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THE 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
THE OHANDOS PORTRAIT OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 Drawn iVom the Picture at Stowe. 
 
Shakes pe<:^ r€y J YVifhanx^ 
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 A K S P E A R E , 
 
 FROM THE TEXT OF JOHNSON, STEEVENS AND REED. 
 
 WITH 
 
 % ^iogni))|intl Herncir, 
 
 SCMAUY REMARKS ON EACH PLAY, COPIOUS GLOSSARY, AND VARIORUM NOTES. 
 
 HmbcllfsJcTi tDitj) a portrait of SJafesjpcarc antJ maiii) KUusttations. 
 
 The house in which Shttkapeflre wns born. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY LEAVITT AND ALLEN, 
 
 27 DEY STREET. 
 1855. 
 

 
 
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BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIK 
 
 OF 
 
 W. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 After all the laborLoas research which has been 
 expended on the subject of Shakspeare's biography, 
 few particulars are known on those points wnich 
 would be most gratifying to the curiosity of his 
 rational admirers. We may trace his ancestors to the 
 doomsday book, and his posterity till they dwindle 
 into tongiieless obscurity ; but of his own habits and 
 domestic character we know comparatively nothing. 
 During his early days, his path in life was so hum- 
 ble, that all our inquiries necessarily terminate in 
 disappointment; and of the more busy period of 
 his existence, when he wrote for the stage, and was 
 the public favourite, his remarkable humility of 
 mind and manners induced him to avoid tlie eye of 
 notoriety ; and, unfortunately, there was no Boswell 
 or Medwin to make memoranda of his conversations, 
 or transmit to our times a fac-siraile of the great 
 dramatist io the familiar moments of relaxation and 
 friendly ij)tercourse. Such hiatuses in the life of 
 Shakspeare cannot now be supplied ; more than 
 two hundred years have elapsed since his mortal 
 remains were left to moulder beneath a tomb, over 
 which Time has shaken the dust of his wings too 
 often to allow of our recovering details, local and 
 fugitive, however interesting. Rowe was the first, 
 whose researches elicited anything like a satisfac- 
 tory memoir of our great bard. Poets and critics 
 have laboriously re-trodden his steps ; the genius of 
 Pope and the acumen of Johnson have been era- 
 ployed on the same subject, but the sun of their 
 adoration liad gone down before their intellectual 
 telescopes were levelled to discover its perfections. 
 Malone has done the most, and appears indeed to 
 have exhausted the subject : but, from inadvertency 
 or carelessness, he has overlooked many particulars 
 which deserve preservation. Having turned over a 
 variety of books, and considted every accessible 
 authority, we shall attempt to condense, under one 
 head, such recollections of Shakspeare, as are at 
 present scattered over many volumes, as well as the 
 more obvious and familiar portions of his history. 
 
 It appears a family, desisrnated inditferently 
 Shaxper, Shakespeare, Shakspere, and Shak- 
 speare, were well known in Warwickshire during 
 the sixteenth century. Rowe says : " It seems by 
 the rei^ister and other public writings of Stratford, 
 that the poefs family were of good figure and fashion 
 tbere, and are mentioned as gentlemen." Ttiis 
 accoupt turns out to be very incorrect; for on 
 reference to the authorities cited, we find that the 
 
 Shakspeares, though their property was respect- 
 able, never rose above the rank of tradesmen or 
 husbandmen. Nothing is known of the immediate 
 ancestors of John Shakspeare, the poet's father, 
 who was originally a glover, afterwards a butcher, 
 and, in the last place, a wool-stapler, in the town of 
 Stratford. Being very industrious, his wealth gave 
 him importance among his neighbours, and having 
 served various offices in the borough with credit, 
 he ultimately obtained its supreme municipal ho- 
 nours, being elected high-bailiff, at Michaelmas 
 1568. His townsfolk no doubt considered this the 
 summit of earthly felicity ; but however reverend 
 the corporation of Stratford in its own estimation, 
 we cannot but smile at these erudite sages, out of 
 nineteen of whom, as we find from their signatures, 
 attached to a public document, J564, only seven 
 were able to write their names. While chief n>a- 
 gistrate of the borough, and on his marriage with 
 Mary Arden, he obtained a grant of arms from the 
 Herald's College, and was allowed to impale his 
 own achievement with thaljOf the ancient family of 
 the Ardens. 
 
 In the deed respecting John Shakspeare, his pro- 
 perty is declared to be worth five hundred pounds, 
 a sum by no means inconsiderable in those days; 
 and, on the whole, we have sufficient evidence of 
 his worldly prosperity. From some unexplained 
 causes, however, his affairs began to alter for the 
 worse about 1574, and after employing such expe- 
 dients to relieve his growing necessities as in the 
 end served only to aggravate them, he at length 
 fell into such extreme poverty, that he was obliged 
 to give security for a debt of five pounds ; and a 
 distress issuing for the seizure of his goods, it was 
 returned : " Joh'es Shakspere nihil habet unde distr 
 potest levari." (John Shakspere has no effects on 
 which a distraint can be levied.) During the last 
 ten years of his life we have no particular account 
 of his circumstances ; but, as in 1597 he describes 
 himself as "of very small wealth and very few 
 friends," we may justly suppose that he remained 
 in great indigence. He seems, indeed, to have fallen 
 into decay with his native town, the trade of which 
 was almost ruined ; as we may learn from the sup 
 plication of the burgesses, in 1590. The town haft 
 then " fallen into much decay, for want of such trade 
 as heretofore they had by clothing, and making of 
 yarn, employing and maintaining a number of poor 
 people by the same, which now live iu great penury 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARli. 
 
 and misery, by reason they are not set at work as 
 before they liuve been." 
 
 John Shakspeare died in 1601. His family con- 
 sisted of ei(jht children, Jane, Margaret, William, 
 Gilbert, Loiie, Anne, Ricliard, and Edmund. 
 Lorie and Margaret died when but a few months 
 old. Of Gilbert nothing is known but the register 
 of his baptism. Jane married one Hart, a hatter 
 of Stratford, and died in 1(345, leaving three sons. 
 .She is mentioned with much kindness in lier il- 
 lustrious brother's will; and the descendants of 
 ht-r chiii'ren were to be found in Stratford within 
 these tew years. In 1794, a house of Shaksjieare's, 
 ii Kenhy -street, belonged to Thomas Hart, a 
 butcher, and the sixth in descpnt from Jane. Anne 
 Shakspeare died an infant ; tlichard, according to 
 the parish register, was buried in 1612. Edmund 
 Shnkspeaie, actuated probably by his brother's re- 
 putation at the theatre, became an actor ; he per- 
 lurined at the Globe, lived in St. Saviour's, Houth- 
 wark, and was interred in the churchyard of that 
 parish, on the 31st of December, 1607. 
 
 William Shakspeare was horn April 23d, 1554, 
 at Stratlbrd-upon-Avon. The house, in which //«e 
 poet first saw the light, was bought in 1597, from a 
 family of the name of Underhill. It had been called 
 the great house, not because it is really large, but 
 ■on account of its having been at that time the best 
 in tiie town. In its present dilapidated state, the 
 ablest artists have exerted their skill, to preserve 
 the outline of so remarkable a building for the 
 gratification of posterity, and the most minute par- 
 ticulars concerning it have been collected with the 
 utmost avidity. 
 
 The chamber, in which onr unrivalled dramatist 
 is said to h;ne drawn his first breath, is pencilled 
 over uilii the nnius if iiinumerabJe visitors in 
 every grade of life. Royalty has been proud to 
 }iay t.is siuiple tribute to exalted intellect ; and 
 genius lias pause 1 in its triumphs, to inscribe these 
 hallowed walls with tlie brief sentences which re- 
 cord Its love and vener:fti()n for the wonderful 
 man, who once lecognised this lowly tenement as 
 \\\)iho)ne. Tlie following lint-s are ascribed to Lii 
 cieii Bminaparte, who, during his stay in England, 
 made an excursion into Warwickshire, expressly 
 to gratify liis curiosity respecting our all praised 
 Shakspeare : 
 
 ' The eye of Genius glistens to admire 
 How memory halls tlie sound of Shakspeare 's lyre. 
 One tear lil shed to form a crystal shrine 
 Of all that's grand, immortal, and divine. 
 Let princes o'er their subject kingdoms rule, 
 'Tis Shakspeare's province to command the soul! 
 To add one leaf, oh, Shak-ipeave ! to thy bays. 
 How vain the effort , and how mean my lays ! 
 Immortal Shakspeare ! o'er thy hallow'd page. 
 Age bu'cumes taught, and youth is e'en made sage." 
 
 This house, so venerable on account of its former 
 inmate, is now divided, one part being a butcher's 
 sliop, and the other a public-house. 
 
 Of Shakspeare's infancy we know-nothing, ex 
 cept that he narrowly escaped falling a victim to 
 the i)lagiie, which at that time almost depopulated 
 his native town. We next find him at the free 
 .; ram in;; school of Stratford, where we may sup- 
 pose he : (uiiired the " small Latin and less Greek," 
 (or wliich Hen Jonsun gives him credit. But even 
 this iinperlVct species of education was soori inter- 
 rupted, the poverty of his father presenting an 
 insurmountable obstacle to his further progress. 
 There can be little doubt, however, that his quick 
 and apprehensive nfind would profit materially even 
 by this limited supply of instruction. In after life, 
 he seems to have been acquainted with Italian and 
 French, but these languages be probably acquired 
 ihrongh his own unassisted industry. He now for a 
 considerable period remained at home, and attended 
 to his fatlier's occupation, that of ■> butcher; and 
 Aubrey, an author in whom we should not put im- 
 
 plicit confidence, relates (hat young Shakspeare 
 killed a calf" in high style," and graced the slaughter 
 with an oration. The same writer informs us, that 
 growing disgusted with this employment, he com- 
 menced schoolmaster, but this, from bis juvenility at 
 the time mentioned, is highly improbable. 
 
 Shakspeare's eighteenth year was scarcely past, 
 when, relinquishing his school, or his oftice, (for 
 Malone makes him an attorney's clerk), he ven- 
 tured to contract that important engagement, on 
 which the happiness or misery of life generally 
 turns. He selected for his wife Anne Hathaway, 
 the daughter of a reputable yeoman in (be vicinity 
 of Stratford. At her marriage, she wa^ fight years 
 older than her husband, and Shakspeare's domestic 
 felicity does not appear to have been advanced by 
 the connexion. In the year following, 1583, his 
 daughter Susanna was born ; and in eighteen months 
 afterwards, his wife bore him twins, a boy and a 
 girl, baptized by the names of Hamnet and Judith. 
 This was the whole of the poet's family ; from which 
 we are perhaps justified in concluding, as there are 
 other circumstances to ntrengthen the opinion, that 
 his connubial lot was not enviable: indeed, his 
 wife's years were so ill-assorted to his own, that 
 little congeniality of sentiment was to be expected. 
 HanVnet, Shakspeare's only son, died at the early 
 age of twelve years, an event long and deeply re- 
 gretted : the daughters, Susanna and Judith, were 
 married, and had children. Shakspeare's last lineal 
 descendant was Lady Barnard, buried, in 1670, at 
 Abingdon in Berkshire. Some branches of the fa- 
 mily still exist, and are resident at Tewkesbury and 
 Stratford ; they are in great indigence, and it reflects 
 disgrace on the age, tl'.at a proposal for their benefit, 
 recently made, received hardly any attention. 
 Surely, when our nobility patronise the refuse of 
 society, in the shape of pedestrians and pugilists, 
 their generosity niij^lit be exercised in succouring 
 those who chum kindred with him, who was the 
 glory of his country and of human nature. 
 
 The marriage of our bard proved his want of 
 worldly prudence; nor was the next important 
 event of his life of a discreeter nature, yet it led 
 to his London journey, and consequently was tha 
 first step towards his future distinction. "' Shuk- 
 sjieare (we quote from Dr. Drake) was now, to all 
 appearance, settled in the country ; he was carrying 
 on his own and his father's business ; he was 
 married, and had a family around him : a situation 
 in\vhich the comforts of domestic privacy might be 
 predicted within his reach, but which augured little 
 of that splendid destiny, that universal fame, and 
 unparalleled celebrity, which awaited his future 
 career." Mere trifles frequently change the whole 
 course of existence, and so it happened in the pre- 
 sent instance. Shakspeare's com|)anions were loose 
 and dissolute, idle, and immoderately fond of plea- 
 sure, and some of them were in the frequent practice 
 of deir-steaUng. The embryo dramatist was often 
 induced to join them in their predatory exploits, 
 particularly in their intrusions on the property of 
 sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Stratford. Detection followed ; and Shak- 
 speare, imagining himself treated with undue seve- 
 rity, affixed in revenge a scurrilous bil'^d to the 
 gate of Charlecote Park. The whole oJ -lis offen- 
 sive production has been recently disoci.^red; we 
 copy it as a curiosity, though it certainly does uo 
 credit to the head or heart of the author. 
 
 Complete Copy of the Verses on Sir Thomas hucij. 
 
 A parliament member, a justice of peace. 
 At home a poor scarecrow, in London an asse : 
 If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall ii , 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. 
 
 He thinks hymsclf greate, yet an asce iu bys sttita, 
 We allowe bye his eares but with asses to masi: 
 If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatetev befall it. 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 He'j • haughty, proud, insolent knishle of the shire, 
 At lifiiiie iiobodye loves, yet there's many him feare : 
 if Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, 
 Syuge lowsie Lucy whatever hefall it. 
 
 To the sessions he went, and did sorely complain 
 
 His parke had lieen rohb'd, and his deer they were slaine : 
 
 This Lucy is lowsie. as some volke miscall it, 
 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatever hefail it. 
 
 He said 'twas a ryot, his men had been beat. 
 His vt-nson was stole, and clandestinely eat : 
 Soe Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. 
 
 So haughty was he when the fact was confess'd, 
 He sayd 'twas a crime that coubl not be redress'd : 
 Soe Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. 
 
 Though lucies a dozen he paints in his ccat. 
 His name it shall Lowsie for Lucy be wrote : 
 For Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, 
 Synge lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. 
 
 If a juvenile frolick he cannot forgive, 
 We'll synge lowsie Lucy as long as we live : 
 And Lucy the lowsie a libel may call it, 
 We'll synge lowsie Lucy whatever befell it. 
 
 Sir Thomas, enraffed at this aggravation of injury 
 iiy insult, increased in harshness to liie .ji;venile 
 nffenrler, who soon felt compelled to quit the home 
 of his infancy, and the residence of his family. Tlie 
 time of his departure is doubtful ; it was probably 
 about 1585. This whole story, however, has lately 
 fallen into disre[)nte, and his removal to London 
 has been ascribed to natural inclination, ordnmes- 
 tic infelicity ; perhaps estrangement from his wife. 
 This supposition is in a degree confirmed, by the 
 negligent way in which she is noticed in his will ; 
 and the circumstance of his not living with her 
 after 1584. It is singular too, that an entry ap- 
 pears in the Stratford register, which records the 
 burial of a child named "Thomas Green, alias 
 Shahspeare." The conclusion which may be drawn 
 from this circumstance is evident. For the sake 
 of the post's memory, we trust that the deer-steal- 
 ing sio'^w \s fabulous; but it is cert liiily confirmed 
 by several particulars in the Second Fart of Henry 
 IV. and, indeed, by the whole character of Justice 
 Shallow. 
 
 The inhabitants of Shakspeare's native town 
 were passionately fond of dramatic entertainn eats. 
 Travelling companies of players appear to have 
 ^isited Stratford on more than twenty occasions, 
 between 1559, (when the poet was utuler six years 
 of age.) and 1587. B irbage and Green, two cele- 
 brated actors, were his townsmen, and even from 
 childhood his attention must have been attracted to 
 the stage, by the i)owei ful influence of no\ elty, and, 
 in all probability, by his personal acquaintance with 
 some of the comedians. When, therel'ore, his views 
 in life were unavoidably altered, it was natural that 
 the theatre should present itselt to his mind as his 
 best asylum ; and directing his fugitive steps to the 
 metro|)olis, he became a player, and, in the end, a 
 writer for the stage. The tale of Sliakspt'are's at- 
 tending at tlie Globe, on his first arrival in London, 
 to take the cliarge of gentlemen's horses, during 
 the performance, is much doubted at present ; but 
 it seems likely that the first office he held in the 
 theatre, was that of c«/^-6(y//, or prompter's attend- 
 ant. He did not long continue in that cajiacity, being 
 soon admitted to perform miuor parts in the popular 
 plays of that period. 
 
 Shakspeare followed the profession of an actir 
 upwards of seventeen years, and till within about 
 thirteen years of his death ; biit we huve good 
 reason fo suppose that six shillings and eight-pence 
 a week was the highest reward i,f his dramatic 
 efTorts. Of his merit as a player, we have no 
 positive data on which to found an estimate, and 
 eccordingly there is gie;it dilteience of opinion 
 among his critics. Tragedians and dramatists were 
 
 VII 
 
 not then so jealously watched as at present; diurnal 
 reviewers were unknown, and an actor's fame 
 depended entirely on the caprice of judges, who 
 were too frequently very incompetent to form a cor- 
 rect decision. From some satirical passages in tlie 
 writings of his contemporaries, we may fairly sup- 
 pose that he was not a favourite performer with the 
 public. His instructions to the players in Handet, 
 however, bespeak such mastery in their art, and are 
 in themselves so excellent, that we are stiongly 
 inclined to believe, that his unpopularity must be 
 attributed more to the bad taste of his auditors, than 
 from the deficiency of his own powers. Acting, 
 considered as a science, was then in its infancy ; he 
 that "strutted and bellowed" most, would be 
 e.steemed the best actor. Shakspeare's adherence 
 to nature would be misunderstood, and his gentle- 
 ness would be censured as lameness. 
 
 The only characters, which we know with cer- 
 tainty to have been personated by Shakspeare, are 
 the Ghost in Hamlet, and .\dam in As You Like It 
 his name appears in the list of players attached to 
 Ben Jonson's Sejanus, and Every Miin in his Hu- 
 mour ; but it is sufficiently evident, that lie never 
 sustained any very important part ; and, but for lii.s 
 genius as a poet, which neither indigence nor ob- 
 scurity could repress, that name, which we now re- 
 peat with reverence and love, would have been lost 
 in the darkness of oblivion. That Shakspeare was 
 not more successful on the stage, might arise from 
 t:ie injust ce and false taste of his audience ; but 
 this is hardly to be lamented, since, had he been 
 eminent as an actor, he would probably have 
 neglected composition. " It may indeed be con- 
 sidered (says Dr. Drake) as a most fortunate cir- 
 cumstance for the lovers of dramatic poetry, that 
 our author, in point of execution, did not attain to 
 the loftiest summit of his profession. He would in 
 that case, it is very probable, have either sat down 
 content with the high reputation accruing to him 
 from this source, or would have found little lime 
 for the labours of com osition ; and, conseqiicnlly, 
 we should have been in a great degree, if nut 
 altogether, deprived of what now constitutes the 
 noblest etforts of human genius." 
 
 Despised as an actor, Shakspeare aspired to 
 distinction as an author; and notwithstanding his 
 mighty capacity, he was for a long time content 
 with altering and revising the productions of others. 
 Of the dramas produced previous to ItiOO, there 
 were some wiiich abounded with felicitous ideas 
 and efl'ective situations; but the writers had used 
 their materials with little skill, and tiie touch of a 
 master was required to reduce them to order and 
 consistency. The noblest geniuses of the age did 
 not refuse such employment. Decker, Rowley, 
 Heywood, and Jonson, were often occupied in con 
 (erring value on such productions: and to tiiis un- 
 thankful labour, the early eil'orts of our bard were 
 modestly confined. 
 
 Dramatists were, generally speaking, abjectly 
 poor ; they were enthralled by managers, either for 
 past favours, existing debts, or tlie woJI-founded 
 apprehension of needing their assistance. What can 
 be" more affecting, tiian to find the illustrious Ben 
 Jonson supplicating fiom Henslowe the advance of 
 a sum so paltry as ^''five shillings." The calling 
 Shakspeare embraced was, in a majority of instances, 
 anything ratiier than profitable : his mighty mind 
 could scarcely liave selected any spiiere of action 
 more barren of revv iid : .but the camp, the senat*», 
 and tiie bar, were then almost exclusively filled 
 by tne young scions of nobility; and preferring to be 
 first among his brotlier authors, however humble 
 their prospects, he poured out all the wealth ofhia 
 intellect on the stage, and laid the foundation of a 
 renown, which is perpetually increasing, and is 
 never likely to be equalled. 
 
 No port.on of Sliakspeare's history is more ob- 
 scure tiiau the period at which he fiist veuturedl to 
 
TiS 
 
 LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 rely on the resources of his own mind, and produce 
 an original drama on the stige which he had so 
 often trod unnoticed. Every attempt to select irom 
 the long list of his wonderful productions the one 
 which had paved the way for his future eminence, 
 his maiden effort in the arena of his coming glories, 
 has ended in uncertainty and disappointment. The 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, and the Comedy of 
 Errors, have been pitched upon, but almo.st any of 
 his other plays might have been chosen with an 
 equal approximation to truth. Our bard, however, 
 was well known as a dramatic writer in 1592, and 
 there is reason to suppose tiiat all his couipusitioiis 
 for the stage were written between 1590 and 1613, 
 a period of about twenty-tliree years. And when 
 't IS considered that we possess thirty of his plays, 
 which are indisputably genuine, besides several, the 
 authenticity of which is doubtful, the marvellous 
 power and range of his intellect will be sufficiently 
 evident. According to the chronologicul order in 
 which the critics have placed his dramas, his genius 
 appears in full vigour from its first flight to the 
 moment when its eagle pinions became quiescent for 
 ever. A Midsummer Night's Dream is the second 
 inscription on the luminous column of his renown. 
 Othello, The Tempest, and Twelfth Night, are 
 engraven in characters of light on its base. Other 
 minds have had their infancy, their maturity, and 
 their decline. In otiier intellects, even the most 
 resplendent, we observe the unfoldings of genius, as 
 of the gradual unfolding of the morning's light, its 
 maturity as of the full blaze ol'noon, and its decline 
 and dfcay as tiie twilight of evening and the 
 darkness of night. Milton wrote Sjrnpson Axonistes 
 befoie Paradise Lost, and Paradise Uegained after 
 it; but the rise, progress, and termination ol Shak- 
 speare's brilliant career were equally glorious. In 
 combining autiior and actor in his own person, the 
 dramatist might in some degree alleviate his pecu- 
 niary diiliculties,butit could scarcely have redeemed 
 him from tiie indigence under which his brother 
 writers were sutiering ; yet his superlative merits 
 as a poet soon advan<:ed him in the regard of the 
 great and the noble. The players in his time were 
 constantly denominated and treated as servants ; 
 and when the actor's duty made his presence neces- 
 sary at his patron's mansion, the buttery was the 
 only place to which he expected admittance. On the 
 contrary, the friendship of the dramatist was lie- 
 qiiently sought by the opulent : even noblemen made 
 him tiieir companion, and chose him at once as the 
 object of bounty and esteem. In this manner, Shak- 
 speare became the bosom associate of tlie all-ac- 
 complished lord Southampton. That nobleman's 
 father-in-law, sir Thomas Heuiinge, was treasurer 
 of tiie queen's chamber, in which capacity it was his 
 duty to reward the actors employed at court: thus 
 plays and players were almost forced upon the notice 
 of lord Southanyton, and the hold theatrical amuse- 
 ments had on his mind, is evident, even at a late 
 period of his life, from his shunning tiie court for a 
 diurnal attendance at the Globe; his entertainment 
 of Cecil with " plaies ;" and iiis ordering Richard II. 
 to be perlbrmed on the night previous to the rebel- 
 lion of the earl of Essex. Shakspeare's intimacy 
 with Southampton commenced when the latter was 
 about twenty years of age, and from the dedications 
 prefixed to Venus and Adonis in 1593, and the Rape 
 of Lucrece in 1594, it is apparent that their friend- 
 siiip was cemented by great liberality in tlie patron, 
 and lively gratitude in the poet. 
 
 Rowe, on the authority of Davenant, relates, that 
 in order to enable Snakspeare to complete a pur- 
 chase, Southampton at one time presented liim with 
 a thousand poun Is, a gift truly princely. The 
 tradition derives credit from the wealth which the 
 dramatist is known to have possessed in a few 
 yenrs subsequently to his arrival in London ; for it 
 IS contrury to probability, that his opulence could 
 hftve arisen Irum his emoluments, either as actor 
 
 or author. All his original productions were sold 
 absolutely to the theatre, and the gain accruiog 
 from them could not have been large, as he neither 
 piiblisiied his plays, nor received advantage from 
 their dedication to the wealthy. Some of his dra- 
 mas were printed in his life-time: but this was done 
 surreptitiously, and was at once a fiaud on author, 
 pro|irietor, and reader. 
 
 Of Shakspeare's comparative 0))ulenre there can 
 be no doubt; in 1597, he purchased New Place, 
 the most respectable mansion in his native Strat- 
 ford, and went to considerable expense in alterations 
 and repairs. A drawing of it is seen in the margir 
 of an ancient survey made by order of sir Oeoigf 
 Carew, (at'terwards baron Carew, of Clopton, and 
 earl of Totness,) and found at Clopton, near Strat- 
 fordupon-Avon, in 1783. 
 
 In the succeeding year, we find Richard Qiiyney, 
 a townsman, applying to him as a person ol sub- 
 stance, for the loan of thirty pounds, and shortly 
 after, we find him expressing his readiness to lend, 
 on proper security, a sum of money for the nse of 
 the town of Stratford. His continued advance in 
 worldly consideration is indicated by his further 
 purchases. In 1602, according to Wheeler, he gave 
 .£320, for one hondred and seventy acres of land, 
 which he added to his estate in New Place. In 
 1605. he bought for £440 a moiety of the great and 
 small tithes of Stratford ; and in 1613, a tenement in 
 Blackfriars for £140. It is remarkable in this latter 
 purchase, that only £80 of the money was paid 
 down, the residue being left as a mortgage on the 
 premises. Malone is of opinion that his annual 
 income could not have been less than £201), which, 
 at the age when he lived, was equal to £800 at 
 present. 
 
 Several of the nobility, particularly the earls of 
 Pembroke and Montgomery, vied with Southampton 
 in conferring benefits on Shakspeare, and he was dis- 
 tinguished ill a most flattering manner, by the favour 
 of two successive sovereigns. We are told that 
 the Merry Wives of Windsor (the first draught of 
 which was finished in a fortnight,) was written ex- 
 pressly at the command of the Viryin Queen, who 
 being highly delighted with Faistutrs humour in 
 Henry IV., wished him to be exhibited under the 
 influence of love. Tlie character of Falstalf, one of 
 the happiest and most origi:ial of all the author's 
 efforts, was, according lo Bowman tiie player, who 
 cited sir VVilliam Bishop as his authority, drawn 
 from a townsman of Stratford, who either faithlessly 
 broke a contgact, or spitefully refused to part with 
 some land, for a valuable consideration, adjoining tO' 
 Shakspeare's, in or near that town. 
 
 The author's reputation was no doubt increased by 
 the approbation of his royal mistress, which in all 
 likelihood was the only solid advantage he obtained 
 from her notice. Rowe celebrates the " many gra- 
 cious marks of her favour" which Sliakspeare re- 
 ceived; but no traces of any pecuniary rewaid from 
 her munificence is to be i'ound, and the almost inva- 
 ri ible parsimony of Elizabeth towards literary men, 
 may fairly induce us to question whether her gene- 
 rosity was exhibited in anything more substantial 
 than praise, notwithstanding all liie elegant flattery 
 wiiicli the poet olfered on the siirine other vanity 
 Elizabeth was certainly a very highly-gilted wo- 
 man, but she was too selfish to pay lor applause, 
 which she was sure of obtaining at an easier rate. 
 
 In. lames I. the stage Ibund a warm and generous 
 patron. In 1599, he gave protection to a company 
 of English comedians in his Scottish capital ; and 
 he had no sooner ascended the Britisii tlirone, than 
 he etfected an absolute change in the theatrical 
 world. In the first year of his reign, an act o'' par- 
 liament passed, which took from the nobility the 
 privilege ol licensing comedians, and all the skele- 
 ton companies then existing were immediately 
 united into three regular establishments, jjatronisea 
 by the royal family. Henry, prince of VValeB, be- 
 
% 
 
 J 
 
TUMU tU' sIlAKi^l'LAUt;. 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 came tbe patron of lord Nottingham's cotnpany, 
 which performed at the Curtain ; the earl of Wor- 
 cester's servants, who commonly acted at the Red 
 Bull, were turned over to the queen, and ulti- 
 mately designated Children of the Revels ; while 
 the king declared the lord chamberlain's company 
 under his own especial care. The license which 
 James granted to Laurence Fletcher, William 
 Shakspeare, Richard Burbage, and others, dated 
 May 19, 1603, constituted them his servants, gave 
 them legal possession of their usual house, the 
 , Globe, and allowed them to exhibit every kind of 
 dramatic representation, in all suitable places in 
 his dominions. From this document we learn that 
 the Globe was the theatre generally occupied by 
 the lord chamberlain's servants ; but they had some 
 interest in the house at Blackfriars, which, in the 
 end, they purchased. At these theatres all Shak- 
 speare's plays were originally acted ; the Globe was 
 the summer, the Blackfriars the tvinier house of 
 .he company with which he was connected. 
 
 Inspired with feelings of gratitude for the dis- 
 tinction accorded to his associates, or in compli- 
 ance with the servile spirit of the times, Shakspeare 
 assiduously courted a monarch, whose ear was 
 ever open to the blandishments of flattery. In op- 
 position to historical evidence, Banquo, the ances- 
 tor of James, is represented in the tragedy of Mac- 
 beth, as noble in mind, and free from the guilt of 
 Duncan's murder. There is another passage in 
 the same play respecting t!\e efficacy of the royal 
 touch in curing the evil, higlily complijnentary, 
 and this delicate praise richly merited the honour 
 it is said to have earned, — " an amicable letter," 
 penned by king James's own hand. Davenant, if 
 we may credit Oldys, possessed tliis curious epis- 
 tle, and related the circumstance to SiietKeld, duke 
 of Buckingham. The favour shown by Elizabeth 
 and her successor to Shakspeare was a lact lamiliar 
 in his own day. Ben Jonson says, — 
 
 " Sweet swan of Avon, what a sight it were 
 To see thee in our waters yet appear; 
 And mark those flights upon the banlis of Thames, 
 That did so please Eliza and our James." 
 
 Shakspeare seems to have cherished a sincere 
 regard for James. There are passages in the last 
 written of his plays, which ret'er to that monarch 
 in highly laudatory terms; and in a curious J\1S. 
 volume of poems, writtetr apparently about the 
 period of the Revolution, the following lines occur, 
 which are confidently ascribed to our poet : — 
 
 " Shakspeare upon the King. 
 
 •Crowneshave their compasse, length of dayes their date; 
 Triuniphes their tombes, felicity her fate : 
 Of more than earth can earth make none partaker. 
 But knowledge ma'i^es the king most like his Maker.' 
 
 Though Elizabeth and James were particularly 
 fond of dramatic representations, it does not appear 
 that they ever visited the public theatres ; they 
 gratified their taste by commanding the comedians 
 to perform plays at court. These entertainments 
 w^re usually given at night, which arrangement 
 su <^d the actors, as the tiieatres were generally 
 opL«- in the morning. The ordinary fee for sucii 
 a f eribrmance in London was i?6: 13s: Ad. and an 
 additional £'3 : 6s : 8d. was sometimes bestowed by 
 the bounty of royalty. 
 
 Shakspeare soon became important in the ma- 
 nagement of the theatre, and participated in all 
 the emoluments of the company. It is impossible 
 to estimate his income from this source : we are 
 ignorant into how many shares this theatrical pro- 
 perty was divided; nor can we tell what proportion 
 of them was enjoyed by our poet. If, however, 
 he svas equal with Heminges, who is joined with 
 him in the license, we are authorized by his partner 
 to assert that it produced " a good yearly income." 
 
 This worldly elevation induced him to quit the 
 drudgery of an actor, which employment he speaks 
 of in his Sonnets with disgust, and henceforth he 
 seems to have yielded all the powers of his com- 
 prehensive mind to the improvement of dramatic 
 literature. The aflectionate wish which Shakspeare 
 formed in early life, to return, after his biiliiaut 
 career, to his native Stratford, and die at home, 
 induced him to purchase New Place, in 1597. In 
 the pleasure ground of that unassuming mansion, he 
 planted with his own hand a mulberry tree, which 
 flourished for many years, and was regard* d with 
 reverence. To this favourite spot, in 1613 or 1614, he 
 retired from the applau.ses of his contemporaries 
 and the bustle of the world, to the genuine repose 
 and unsophist^icated pleasures of a country life. Au- 
 brey informs us, that it was our bard's custom to 
 visit Stratford yearly; but previous to 1596, the 
 place of his residence in London has not been 
 discovered. He then lodged near the Bear Garden 
 in Southwark, and it is not improbable that he 
 remained there till his final retirement from the 
 metropolis. 
 
 We shall now throw together such facts as we 
 have gleaned in a careful course of reading, with 
 reference to the subject, as may serve to illustrate 
 the manners, habits, and individual character of 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The following abstract of his life is from Aubrey : 
 "Mr. Wil liam Shakspeare was bom at Stratl'ord-upoc- 
 Avon, in the county of Warwick ; his father was 
 a butcher, and I have been told heretofore by some 
 of his neighbours, that when he was a bov he ex- 
 ercised his father's trade ; but when he killed a 
 calfe, he would doe it in a high style and make a 
 speech. There was, at that time, another butcher's 
 son in that towne, that was helde not at all inferior 
 to him for a naturall witt, his acquaintance and 
 coetanean, but died young. This Win. being in- 
 clined naturally to poetry and acting, came to Lon- 
 don, I guesse about eighteen, and was an actor at 
 one of the playhouses, and did act exceedingly well. 
 Now B. Jonson never was a good actor, but au 
 excellent instructor. He began early to make es- 
 sayes at dramatic poetry, which at that time was 
 very lowe, and his playes took well. He was a 
 handsome well shap't man, and of a verie readie 
 and pleasant smooth witt : the humour of the consta- 
 ble in A Midsummer Night's Dreame, he happened 
 to take at Grendon, in Bucks, which is the roade 
 from London to Stratforde, and there was li\ing that 
 constable about 1642, when I first came to Oxon. 
 Mr. Jos. Howe is of that parishe, and knew him. 
 Ben Jonson and he did gather humours of men 
 dayly, wherever they came. One time, as he was 
 at a tavern at Stratford- upon-Avon, one Combes, 
 an old rich usurer, was to be buryed, he makes there 
 this extemporary epitaph : 
 
 ' Ten in the hundred the devill allowes, 
 
 But Combes will have twelve, he swearea and voweJ 
 
 If any one ask who lies in this tombc, 
 
 Hob, quoth the devill, 'tis my John o'Combe.' 
 
 " He was wont to goe to his native conntrie once 
 a yeare. I think I have been told, that he left 2 or 
 300 lib. per annum, or thereabout, to a sister. I 
 have heard sir Wm. Davenant and Mr. Thomas 
 Shadwell (svho is counted the best comedian we 
 have nowy say that he had a most prodigious witt- 
 and did admire his naturall parts beyond all other 
 dramaticall writers. He was wont to say, that he 
 never blotted out a line in his life ; sayd Ben Jon- 
 son, I wish he had blotted out a thousand. His 
 comedies will remain witt as long as the Englisli 
 tongue is understood, for that he handles tnores 
 hominutn : now our present writers reflect so much 
 upon particular persons and coxcombities, tliat 
 twenty years hence they will not be understood." 
 
 There is no such character in the Midsummer 
 Night's Dream as a constable. Aubrey most pro- 
 
LIKE OF SHAKSI'EARE. 
 
 bably referred to the saf^acioiis Dog' erry in Mmli 
 Ado about Nolhina;. 'I'iiis accouiit, tlioimh seejn- 
 ingly sanctioned Ijy good authority, and written 
 most i>rob;>!)ly witniii tlilrty years ot .Siiiiksj/eioe's 
 , death, is treated by iiis biograpliers as incredible; 
 yet it IS well worth preservation, for we cannot 
 lind any reasonable grounds on which Aubrey's tes- 
 timony should be rejected. The story of th- epitaph 
 is variously told. In the ibllowing version the wit is 
 certainly heightened : "Mr. John Combe had amassed 
 considerable wealth by the practice of usury ; he 
 was Siiaksppare's intimate friend. In the gaiety of 
 coniersation he told the poet that he fancied he in- 
 tended to furnish his epitaph ; and since whatever 
 might be said of him alter he was dead must be un- 
 known to him, he requested it might be written (brth- 
 with. Tlie bard immediately gave him the following 
 verses : — 
 
 * Ten ill (he hundred lies here engrav'd ; 
 
 'Tis a hundred to (en his soul is not sav'd : 
 
 If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? 
 
 Oil ! oh ! quoth the devil, 'tis my John-a Combe.'' 
 
 Peck, in his Memoirs of Milton, 4to. 1740, has 
 introduced another epitaph, which he attributes, 
 though it does not appear on what authority, to Shak- 
 speare. It is on a Toni-a-Combe, otherwise Thin- 
 beard, brother to the above-named John, who is 
 noticeil by Rowe : 
 
 " Thin in beard, and (hick in purse, 
 Never man beloved worse : 
 He went (0 the grave with many a curse ; 
 The devil and he had both one nurse." 
 
 _ Much has been said of the rivalship and dissen- 
 sion between Ben Jonson and Shakspeare : we shall 
 give a few particidars, from which we think it will 
 appear that they both were entirely free from per- 
 sonal ill will. Pope says, that Junson " loved Shak- 
 sjjeare as wtll as honoured his memory, celebrates 
 the honesty, openness and frankness of his temper, 
 and only distinguishes, as he reasonably ought, 
 between the real merit of the author, aiid the silly 
 and derogatory applauses of the players," (iil- 
 Christ, a very clever critic, published a pamphlet 
 to prove that Jonson was never a harsli or envious 
 rival of Sliakspeare, and that the popular opinion on 
 that subject is altogether erroneous. Rowe gives 
 lis the subjoined anecdote, which has been thought 
 worthy of credit:" Mr. Jonson, who was at that time 
 altogether unknown to the world, had offered one 
 of liis i)lays to the players, in order to have it acted ; 
 and the persons into whose hands it was put, after 
 having turned it carelessly and superciliously over, 
 were just upon returning it to him with an ill-na- 
 tnred answer, that it would be of no service to their 
 company, when Sliakspeare luckily cast his eye 
 upon it, and found something so well in it as to en- 
 gage him first (o read it through, and afterwards to 
 recommend Mr. Jonson and his writings to the 
 public." It is not a little remarkable, that Jonson 
 seems to have held a higher place in | ublic estima- 
 tion than our poet, for more tiian a century after the 
 death of the latter. Within that period, Ben's works 
 went throiigli numerous editions, and were read 
 with eagerness, while Shakspeare's remained in com- 
 parative neglect till the time of Rowe: of this fact, 
 abundant evidence might be given; not only was 
 Jimson preferred, but even Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 with many dramatic writers infinitely below them in 
 merit, were exalted above him. The following pas- 
 sages are cuiioiis, and will satisfactorily show the 
 little estimation our bard's works were held in by 
 the million of that day. 
 
 " ••. Ycu see 
 
 What audience we have, what company 
 To Shakspeare comes ; whose mirth did once beguile 
 Dull hours, and buskiu'd, made even sorrow smile: 
 Sii lovely were the wounds, that men would say. 
 They c uuld endure the bleeding a whole day. 
 • lie has but few friends lately."— Prologue to the Sisters. 
 
 " Shak'ipeare to (hee was dull, whose best jest lieo 
 I' (h' lady's qiiesdous, and the fool's replies ; 
 Whfise wit our nicer times would obsceneness call, 
 And which made bawdry pass for comical. 
 Nature v\ as all his art ; Ihy vein was free 
 As his, but without his scurrility." 
 
 Verses en Fletcher, by William Cartwrisht,l6l7 
 
 " In our old plays, the humour, love, and passion. 
 Like doublet, liiise, and clopk, are rut of fashion; 
 That wliich the world call'd wit in Shakspeare's age. 
 Is laugh'd at as improper for our stage." 
 
 Prologue to Shirley's Love Tricks, 1CC7. 
 
 « At every shop, while Shakspeare's lofty style 
 Ne?'ec(eJ lies to mice and worms a spoil ; 
 Gilt on the back, just smoking from the prss. 
 The apprei)(ice shews you D'Vrfey's Hudibias; 
 Crown's Ma^k, bound up with Settle's choicest labours, 
 And promises some new essay of Babors " 
 
 Satire, published in 1680. 
 
 V 
 
 In the Spectator, Addison has several papers, in 
 which a very high character is given of Shak- 
 speare's genius ; but it is evident from the quota- 
 tions introduced, that the elegant critic had no ac- 
 quaintance with his original, but through the me- 
 dium of Davenant's new modelled editions of his 
 great god-father"s dramas. This fact is partly ac- 
 counted i'or on the principle that classical literature 
 and the learning of the schools were esteemed in 
 those days as the best criterions of talent. Jonson'a 
 constant objection to Shakspeare, was the want of 
 that species of knowledge ; and upon his proficiency 
 in it, he arrogated the superiority to hitnself. All 
 classical scholars, however, did not sanction Jon- 
 son's claims ; since, among the warmest admirers of 
 Shakspeare, was one of the most learned men of his 
 age, the great and excellent Hales. "On one occa- 
 sion, the latter, after listening in silence to a warm 
 debate between sir John Suckling and Jonson, is 
 rej)orted to have interposed, by observing ' that 
 if Shakspeare had not read the ancients, he had 
 likewise not stolen anything from them, and that 
 if he (Jonson) would produce anyone topic finely 
 treated by any of them, he wonid undertake to 
 show something upon the same subject, at least as 
 well written by Shakspeare.' A trial, it is added, 
 being in consequence agreed to, judges were ap- 
 pointed to decide the dispute, who unanimously 
 voted in favour of the English poet, after a candid 
 examination and comparison of the passages pro- 
 duced by the contending parties." All this proves 
 nothing more than a collision of intellect between 
 these great men, which might exist without a particle 
 of enmity or malicious feeling, and there are several 
 circumstances to favour the opinion that Shak- 
 sjjeare and Jonson lived together on the most 
 friendly terms. Our bard, in all probability, as-' 
 sisted in the composition of Sejanns ; and on his 
 death, Jonson wrote an elegy in his honour, in- 
 scribed his effigy with panegyrical verses, and fur 
 nished a preface for the first edition of his pl^s 
 nor did the lapse of years cool his regard, or eflfacfc 
 from his mind the recollection of his companion 
 in his declining days, he declared with all the 
 energy of truth, " I loved the man, and do honoiii 
 his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any.' 
 
 Fuller's comparative view of these illustrious 
 writers is highly interesting : "Shakspeare was ai 
 eminent instance of the truth of that rule : Poeta not 
 Jit, sednaacitur, (one is not made, but born a poet.) 
 Indeed his learning was but very little ; so that as 
 Cornish diamonds are not polished by any lapidary, 
 but are pointed and smoothed even as they are 
 token out of the earth, so nature itself was all the 
 art which was used upon him. Many were the wit 
 combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two 
 I beheld, like a Spanish great yalleon, and an 
 Enrjlish inrm of ivar! Master Jonson, like the 
 former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but 
 slow in his performances. Shakspeare, with the 
 
LfFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 zi 
 
 Bn<)lith man of war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in 
 saiinig, could turn with all tides, anil take advan- 
 tage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and 
 invention." 
 
 The following anecdote, preserved by IVIalone, 
 will serve to show the habits of close intimacy in 
 which these great and amiable men lived. In the 
 serious business of life, rivals, and even enemies, 
 are often obliged to associate , but when vvc find 
 men seeking each other in the season of relaxation, 
 and mingliiiR thoughts in their sportive humours, we 
 may s.ifely pronounce them to be friends. An ami- 
 cable dispute arose concerning the motto of the 
 Globe theatre. " Toiiis vtundus ayit Instrionem ;" 
 (all the world acts a play ; ) some condemned it 
 as anmeauing, others ileclared it to be a fine piece 
 of sententious wisdom : Joiison, being asked for his 
 opinion, wrote on a scrap of paper, 
 
 ■< If but stage Bctors all the worlii displays, 
 WTiere sliall we liiid spectators of their plays?" 
 
 Shakspeare smiled, aud taking the pen, set down 
 these lines tuider Hen's couplet: 
 
 * Little or much of what we see, we do. 
 Were all both actors anil spectators too." 
 
 All this may be called trifling; but even trifles 
 become interesting, when connected witJi a Jonson 
 and a Shakspeare. 
 
 Mr. (Jidnrd has triumphantly proved, that the 
 once generally received opinion of Jonson's malig- 
 nant ffeliugs inwards his friend and benefactor, is 
 void of the slightest foimdation in fact ; on the con- 
 trary, we are justified in believing that the author 
 of Sejanus was, on all occasions, ready to admit the 
 wonderful merit of his less learned, but more highly- 
 gifted contemporary. His lines under Shakspear's 
 effigy breathe the warmest spirit of reverence and 
 love : 
 
 * Tlie fipure that thon here seest put. 
 It was for gentle Slinkspeare cut ; 
 Wlierpin the Rraver had a strife 
 With nature to outdo the life. 
 
 O, could he hut have draw ne his wit 
 As well in hrass. n.i he hath hit 
 His fare, the print would then surpass 
 All that was ever writ in hniss : 
 But since he cannot, reailer, looke 
 Not on his picture but his booke." 
 
 The anecdotes subjoined rest, perhaps, on slight 
 authority; but every particidar relative to our un- 
 rivalled dramatist has such powerful attraction, 
 that we should not feel justified in withbolding thetn. 
 
 (jneen Elizabeth used sometimes to sit behind 
 the scenes, while her favourite playr! were perform- 
 ing: one evening. Shaksware enacted the part of 
 a monarch (probably, in Henry IV.). The audience 
 knew thather majesty was present. She crossed the 
 stage while Shakspeare was acting, and being 
 loudly greeted by the spectators, curtsied politely 
 to the poet, who took no notice of her condescension. 
 When behind the scenes, she caught his eye and 
 moved again, but still he would not throw off his 
 character to pay her any attention. This made her 
 majesty think of some means to know whether she 
 could induce hint to forget the dignity of his charac- 
 ter while on the stage. Accordingly, as he was about 
 to make his exit, she stepped before him, dropped 
 her glove, and re-crossed the stage, which Shak- 
 speare noticing, took it up with the.se words, so 
 immediately after finishing his speech, that they 
 seemed to belong to it ; 
 
 ' Aud fhousb now tient on this hi?h embassy. 
 Yet stoop we to lake up our cousin's glove." 
 
 He then vvithdr»w from the stage, and presented the 
 elove to th,*- queen, \\\v> was much pleased with his 
 Dcbaviour, and complimented liini on its propriety. 
 One evening, Burbage perfprmed Itichard III. 
 
 and while behind the scenes, Shakspeare overheard 
 him making an assignation with a lady of consider- 
 able beauty. Burbage was to knock at her chamber 
 door ; she was to say, " Who comes there ?" and 01. 
 receiving for answer, " 'Tis I, Richard the Third,' 
 the favourite tragedian was to be adnutted. Sliak 
 speare instantly determined to keep the appoint-' 
 meut himself. Tapping at the lady's door, he nwde 
 the expected response to her interrogatory, and 
 gained admittance. The poet's eloquence soon con- 
 verted the fair one's anger into satisfaction ; but the 
 real Simon Pure quickly arrived ; he rapped loudly, 
 and to the expectetl query replied, " 'Tis I, Richard 
 tiie Third." " Then," quoth Shakspeare, " go thy 
 ways, Hurby, for thou knowest that William the 
 Conqueror reiyned before Richard the Thirds 
 
 Shakspeare's associates, during his residence in 
 London, were the great spirits who were engaged, 
 like him, in the |)ursuit of literary distinction : with 
 Fletcher he was particularly intimate, and it is 
 believed he assisted him largely in the composition 
 of The Two Noble Kinsmen, Rowley, Forde, iMas- 
 singer, and Decker were also indebted to his liberal 
 mu.se : indeed, there is scarcely any dramatist of 
 his age to whom the light of his genins was not 
 extended. 
 
 A .tradition exists of a literary club, of which 
 Shakspeare was a member, aud which included the 
 following illustrious names: Jonsim, Fletcher, Sel- 
 den, Cotton, Carew, Martin, Beaumont, and Donne. 
 The meetings of such a phalanx of talent must 
 necessarily have been attended with " the feast of 
 reason and tiie flow of soul." 
 
 Ol Shakspeare's coniivial disposition, the fol- 
 lowing leaendstfy story, told by John Jnrdan, a 
 native of Stratford, might be given as evidt-nce; 
 though, certainly, it does not redound much to his 
 credit. Shakspeare, says the tradition, loved hearty 
 draughts of English beer or ale, and there were two 
 clubs of persons who met at a village called I;id- 
 ford, about seven miles below Stratford, who dis- 
 tinguished themselves by the designation ol tupers 
 and sippers, the former of whom could ilr.nk the 
 most without being intoxicated ; the latter, luiw- 
 ever, were superior to most other drinkers in the 
 coinitry. These lovers of John Barleycorn chal- 
 lenged all England to drink with thorn, to try the 
 strength of their heads; the StratHud bard aii<l his 
 comp'unions accepted it, and went to Bidlord, on 
 a VV hit- Monday, to encwinter the topers; but 
 they were gone to Evesham fair ujion a like expe- 
 dition, so that Shakspeare and his Stratford frieruls 
 were forced to sit down with i\\e sippers ; upon trial, 
 they found themselves inferior to tiseir opponeuls ; 
 the poet and his companions became so intoxicated 
 that they were forced to decline tuither trial. 
 Leaving Bidford, tlipy proceeded honiewatd, but 
 poor VV illiarn. when he had gone about hall a mile, 
 laid himself down on the turf, under the boughs oi 
 a crab - tree, where he reposed for the night. 
 Awaking with the lark, he was invited to return to 
 Bidford and renew the contest, but he refused, 
 telling them, that he had drunk with 
 
 * Piping Pebworlli, Dancing IWarston, 
 Haiiuted Hillborough, and Hunicry Grafton, 
 WilhDadgiiiR Exhall, Papist Wixfmd, 
 Beggarly Broom, aiid Drunken Bidford." 
 
 These epithets, we are told, are still given to these 
 adjoining villages ; and the reader will, according 
 to his degree of faitii, credit or reject a tale tlie 
 particulars of which correspond so ill with the 
 bards character. 
 
 There is a tradition in Stratford, of our pof.i.* 
 likening the carbuncled face of a drunken iiljck 
 smith to a maple. 'I'he smith addressed him as lif 
 leant over a mercer's door, thus : 
 
 " Now, Mr. Shakspeare, trll me if you can, 
 
 llie dill'ereuce belvreen a youth and a j uuug i.'iau." 
 
xu 
 
 LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 To which Shakspeare instantly answered : 
 
 « Thou son of fire, with thy face like a maple, [apple." 
 The same ditfcrence as between a scalded and a coddled 
 
 This story was told, upwards of fifty years since, to 
 .a gentleman at Stratford, by a person who was then 
 more than eighty years old, whose father nuglit 
 have been a contemporary of Shakspeare. Perhaps, 
 however, it was only a version of a story (old ot 
 Tarleton, the clown. 
 
 We come now to speak of some traditional gal- 
 lantries of our poet; they may not deserve entire 
 credence, but it would not be satisfactory to omit 
 tlieiii altogether. In his joiirneyings between 
 Stratford and London, Shakspeare often put up at 
 the Crown Inn, Oxford ; the hostess was beautiful 
 and witty; the host, a discreet citizen, of a satur- 
 nine coniplexioii, but a lover of plays and PJay- 
 wriglits, and, more particularly, of his visitor. The 
 bard's frequent calls, and the loveliness of the 
 landlady, gave occasion to the following story : 
 Young VVilliam Davenant, afterwards sir William, 
 was then a slip of a school-boy, of about eight years 
 old : this lad was so much attached to Sliakspeare, 
 that wiienever he heard of his arrival he would quit 
 the school to see him. One day, an old townsman, 
 observing the boy hastening homewards with 
 breathless impatience, demanded of him whither he 
 was running in that eager manner. " To see my 
 god-father Shakspeare," was the reply. " There's 
 a good boy," said the citizen; "but have a care 
 you don't take God's name in vain." 
 
 From the Sonnets of our autiior we may conclude 
 that he had formed an unhappy attachment, for 
 while he celebrates the charms of his fair enslaver 
 in the most hyperbolical terms, he is at no less pains 
 to proclaim the utter vvortiile.ssness of her charac- 
 ter. He 
 
 « Swore her fcir, and thought her bright. 
 While she was black a» hell, and dark as night.» 
 
 With the perverseness so common in affairs of 
 gallantry, the lady neglected the poet, and placed 
 iier love on a youth of remarkable beauty, the dear 
 Triend and associ;tteof the dramatist himself. The 
 yocng man's participation in this violation of aflec- 
 tion and friendship is uncertain, as appears from 
 several passages, and, in particular, from the 144!.h 
 Sonnet, which we quote, as it epitomises the whole 
 of the tale : 
 
 * Two loves I have of comfort and despair, 
 Which like two spirits do suggest me still ; 
 The better angel is a man right fair. 
 The worser .spirit a woman colour'd ill. 
 To win me soon to hell, my female evil 
 Tempteth my b-tter angel from my side. 
 And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, 
 Wooing his purity with her foul pride : 
 And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, 
 Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; 
 And being bolli from me, both to each friend, 
 1 guess one argel in another's hell : 
 Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt. 
 Till my bad angel tire my good one out." 
 
 A breach, however, did ensue between the bard 
 and his good spirit ; yet the pangs of separation 
 soon proved intolerable; and in defiance of his jea- 
 lousies and doubts, Shaks^jeare took back his friend 
 to his bosom, with an affection which seemed more 
 powerful for this short interruption. 
 
 It has ofttn been mentioned as singular, that 
 Shakspeare does not appear to have written any 
 commendatory verses on his literary companions, 
 to which his greut good nature, it might ha\ e been 
 supposed, would have inclined him ; it was not 
 knccvn that he li^jd composed even a solitary stanza 
 to applaud the living or eulogize the dead. The 
 
 annexed epitaphs, if they be authentic, and they 
 have much of Shakspeare's manner about them, W'.U 
 prove, that in two instances at \en^i, he laid aside 
 that diffidence of his own merits, which made him 
 undervalue the plamlits of a iin se, the slightest 
 breath of whose praise would liove conferred ira- 
 mortalily. In a MS. volume oi poems, by Herrick 
 and others, in the handwriting of Charles I., pre- 
 served in the Bodleian library, is the ioUowing epi- 
 taph, ascribed to our poet: 
 
 " AN EPITAPH. 
 
 " When God was pleas'd, the world unwilling yet, 
 
 Elias Jhmes to nature payd his debt, 
 
 And here reposeth ; as he liv'd, he dyde ; 
 
 The saying in him strongly verehed,— 
 
 Such life, such death ; then, the known truth to tell. 
 
 He liv'd a godly life, and dyde as well. 
 
 « WM. SHAKSPEARE." 
 
 Sir William Dugdale, in his Visitation Book, 
 describes a monument in Tongue church, Salop, 
 erected in memory of sir Thomas Stanley, who died 
 abeut the year 1600. After a long prose inscription, 
 the frail marble was charged with the following 
 poetical encomiums : 
 
 * Tliese following Verses were made by 
 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, the late famous Tragsdian- 
 " Written upon the east end of this tomb. 
 * Aske who lyes here, but do not weepe ; 
 He is not dead, he doth but slecpe. 
 This stony register is for his bones, 
 His fame is more perpetual than these stones: 
 And his own goodness, with himseitlieiiig gone. 
 Shall live, when earthly monument is none." 
 
 * Written upon the west end thereof. 
 * Not monumental stone preserves our fame, 
 Nor skye aspiring pyramids our name. 
 The memiiry of him for whom this slnnds, 
 Shall out-live marble, and delacers' hands. 
 When all to time's c.insumplion shall be given, 
 Stanley, for whom this stands, shall stand in heaven.* 
 
 Shakspeare seems to have had no personal con- 
 nexion with the theatre for about three years pre- 
 viously to his death, and this .scanty remnant of hi:* 
 days was passed in peace and comfort. Ro\ve says : 
 " The latter part of his life was spent, as ail men of 
 good sense would wish theirs may be, in ease, retire- 
 ment, and the conversation ol his friends. His 
 pleasurable wit and good-nature engaged him in 
 the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship, 
 of the gentlemen of the neighbouihood." And in 
 the words of Dr. Drake, " tie was high in reputa- 
 tion as a poet, favoured by the great and accom- 
 plished, and beloved by all who knew him." Nothing 
 can be more delightful than to contemplate this 
 wonderful man, in the vigour of his age, and in the 
 full possession of his amazing faculties, retiring 
 from the scene of his weilearned triumphs, to find, 
 in the comparative seclusion of his native town, 
 that repose and quietude both of miud and body, 
 which is not to be looked for in the bustle of the 
 world. And if he, whose glory was to fill the uni- 
 verse, and whose pursuits (if anything connected 
 with time cau be,) were worthy of an immortal 
 soul, could pant fur retirement in the meridian of 
 his days, what excuse have they, who, in senectude 
 and feebleness, continue to toil among the mole-hills 
 of earth for a little perishable gold, for which they 
 have no use when they have obtained it ? 
 
 Shakspeare retired from the metropolis at a period 
 little past the prime oi life. We meet with no hint 
 of any fuiiure in his constitution ; and the execution 
 of his will, ill " perfect health and memory," on the 
 25th of March, Itil6, warrants no immediate expec- 
 tation of his decease. The curtiiin was now to fall, 
 however, oa bis earthlv stage of existence. He died 
 
LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 XIII 
 
 on the 23d of April, the anniversary of his birth, 
 havino exactly complett'd his tj(ty second year. On 
 the 25th, two days alter liis death, his body was laid 
 in its original dust, beins» buried under the uortl) side 
 of the chancel of the great chiircli at Stratford; a 
 flat stone, protecting all tliat was peri'sliable of the 
 remains of Stiakspeare, bears this inscription: 
 
 • Good frend, for Jesus' sake, forbeare 
 To dig; the dust euclosed here ! 
 Bless 'd be the man that spares these stones. 
 And curst be he that mores my bones." 
 
 The common opinion is, that these lines were 
 written by the poet himself; but this notion has, 
 perhaps, originated solely from the use of the word 
 " my" in the closing line. " The imprecation," says 
 M alone, was probably suggested by an apprehension 
 " that our author's remains might share the same 
 fate with those of the rest of his countrymen, and be 
 added to the immense pile of human hones deposited 
 in Stratford charnel-house." 
 
 VVe shall now give a brief abstractofShakspeare's 
 will, which is yet extnnt in the Prerogative Office. 
 It bears date, March 25, 1616, and commences with 
 tiie following paragraphs : 
 
 " In the name of God, amen. I, William Shak- 
 speare, at Stratford-upon-Avon, in the county of 
 Warwick, gent, in perfect health and memory,(God 
 be praised !) do make anil ordain this my last will 
 and testament in manner and form following; that is 
 to say : 
 
 " First, I cemmend my soul into the hands of God 
 my Creator, hoping, and assuredly believing, through 
 the only merits of Jesus Christ, my S.^viour, to be 
 made partaker of life everlasting : and my body to 
 tile earth, whereof it is made." 
 
 It then proceeds to make the bequests enumerated 
 below : 
 
 'I'o his daugher Judith he gave .f 150 of lawful 
 English money; .flOO to be paid in discliarge of her 
 marriage-portion within one year after his decease, 
 and tlie remaining £50 upon her giving up to her 
 elder sister, Susanna Hall, all her right in a copy hold 
 tenement and appurtenances, parcel of the manor of 
 llowington. To the said Judith he also bequeathed 
 £150 more, if she or any of her issue were living 
 three years from the date of his will ; but, in the 
 contrary event, then he directed that £100 of the 
 sum should be paid to his niece, Elizabeth Hall, and 
 he proceeds of the £50 to his sister Joan, or Jone 
 Hart, for life, with residue to her children. He 
 further gave to the said Judith a broad silver-gilt 
 bowl. To his sister Joan, beside the contingent 
 bequest above mentioned, he gave £20 and all his 
 weai-iug apparel ; also the house in Stratford, in 
 which she was to reside for her natural life, under 
 he yearly rent of twelvepence. To her three sons, 
 
 William Hart, Hart, and Michael Hart, he gave 
 
 £5 a- piece, to be paid within one year after his 
 decease. To his grand daughter, Elizabeth Hall, 
 he bequeathed all his plate, ^k silver bowl above 
 Jicepted. To the poor of Stralfnrd he bequeathed 
 £10; to Mr. Thomas Cole, his sword; to Thomas 
 Russel, £5 ; to Francis Collins, esq. £13 : 6« : 8^. ; 
 Hamlet, (Hammet) saddler, £1 : 6»: ^d. to buy 
 a ring; and a like sum, for the same purpose, to 
 W'ilU.Tin Reynolds, gent. Anthony Nash, gent. John 
 Hemynge, Richard Burbage, and Henry Cundell, 
 his " fellows ;" also, twenty shillings in gold to his 
 godson, William Walker. To his daughter, Susanna 
 Hall, he bequeathed New Place, with its appurte- 
 nances ; two messuages, or tenements, with their 
 appurtenances, situated in Henley-street; also, all 
 his " barns, stables, orchards, gardens, lauds, te- 
 Deinents, and hereditaments whatsoever, situate, 
 lying, and being, or to be had, received, perceived 
 df taken, within the towns, hamlets, villages, fields, 
 
 and grounds of Stratford iipon-.\ von. Old Stratfois! 
 Bi.shopton, and Welcombe, or in any of them, in tjic 
 said county of Warwick ; and also, all that mes- 
 suage or tenement, with the a|jpurtenances, wherein 
 one John Robinson dwelleth, situated, lying, and 
 being in the Blackfiiars, London, near the Ward- 
 robe : and all my other lands, tenements, and 
 hereditamt- nts whatsoever, to have and to hold all 
 and singular the said premises, with their appurte- 
 nances, unto the said Susanna Hall, for and during 
 the term of her natural life ; and, after her decease, 
 to the first son of her body, lawfully issuing, and to 
 the heirs male of her said first son, lawfully issuing ; 
 and for default of such issue, to the second son of 
 her body, lawfully issuing, and to the heirs male of 
 the said second .son, lawfully issuing;" and so Ibrth, 
 as to third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons of 
 her body, and their heirs male : " and for default of 
 such issue, the said premises to be and remain to my 
 niece. Hall, and the heirs male of her body, lawfully 
 issuing; and for default of such issue, to her daughter 
 Judith, and the heirs male of her br)dy, lawfully 
 issuing : and for default of such issue, to the right 
 heirs of me the said William Shakspeare." To tho 
 said Susanna Hall and her husband, whom he ap- 
 pointed executors of his will, under the direction of 
 Francis Collins, and Thomas Russel, esqrs, he 
 further bequeathed all the rest of his "goods, chat- 
 tels, leases, plate, jewels, and household stuff what- 
 soever," after the payment of his debts, legacies, 
 and funeral expenses; with the exception of his 
 " second-best bed, with the furniture" which con- 
 stituted tlie only bequest he made to his wife, and 
 that by insertion after the will was written out. 
 
 A few additional facts respecting Shakspeare'* 
 family may be acceptable. His wife survived him 
 seven years, and was buried between his grave and 
 the north wall of the chancel, under a stone inlaid 
 with brass, and inscribed thus : 
 
 " Heere lyeth interred the bodye of Anne, wife of 
 Mr. William Shakspeare, who departed this life the 
 sixth day of August, 1623, being of the age of sixty- 
 seven yeares." 
 
 It may be supposed that the poet's marriage was 
 not productive of much domestic comfort. She did 
 not reside with him in London ; their children were 
 born very early after their union ; and we have seen 
 how coldly she is noticed in the will. 
 
 The causes which led to the striking difference 
 vyhich Sliakspeare makes in his testament between 
 his daughters are unknown; but Susanna is, evi- 
 dently, the favourite. Judith married Thomas 
 Quiney, a gentleman of good family, by whom she 
 had three children, but they died young, leaving no 
 posterity. The art of writing was not among this 
 lady's accomplishments, as her marl: appears to a 
 deed, still extant, accompanied by the exj'laiiatory 
 appendage of " Signunt Judith S/iakspeartr." Her 
 elder sister married Dr. Hall, a physician ol consi- 
 derable reputation. After her father's deiiih, she 
 resided with her husband at New Place. Siie be- 
 came a widow, and was honoured, for some time, 
 with the company of Henrietta Maria, the queen of 
 Charles I. Her only child, Elizabeth Hall, tlie niece 
 mentioned in Shakspeare's will, continued to reside 
 there when she became lady Barnard. Tins lady, 
 though twice married, left no children. She died in 
 16j9 — 70, and in her the family of our bard became 
 extinct. Mrs. Susanna Hall died in July, 1649, aged 
 sixty-six ; she was buried at Stratford, and the fol- 
 lowing record of her wit, piety, and humanity, was 
 inscribed on her tomb. The lines do not now ap- 
 pear on the stone, but they have been preserved by 
 Dugdale. 
 
 " Witty above her xe\e, but that's not all, 
 Wise to salvation, was good mistress Hall : 
 Something of Shakspeare vras in that, but Ibi* 
 Wholly of him with whom she's now in bliase. 
 
ItV 
 
 LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 Tlien, pnssenger, bast ne'er a teare, 
 To weep with her, that wept with all : 
 
 That wept, yet jel herselfe to chere 
 Them up with comforts cordiall ? 
 
 Her love shall live, her mercy spread, 
 
 When thou hast ne'er a teare to shed." 
 
 We have thus, as briefly as the importance of 
 such a memoir would permit, gone over tlie meagre 
 
 biographical remains of the noblest dramatic poet 
 the world has ever prcdaced. Without attempting 
 to draw the character of this mJitchless writer, we 
 have, occasionally, in the course of our narrative, 
 endeavoured to mark the feeling of respect and ad- 
 miration by which we are intluenced while con- 
 templating the mighty performances of a mind, 
 which, with little assistance from education, sur- 
 passed all the efforts of ancient or modern genius. 
 
 ©hrouolostcal OvXftv of ijhaftjspfave'js SramajS, 
 
 ON THE AUTHORITY OP MALONE, CHALMERS, AND DRAKE. 
 
 The ensuiiig enumeration of Shakspeare's dramas, 
 with the dates assigned by the most generally re- 
 ceived authorities, is given merely as a matter of cu- 
 riosity ; for the learned commentators are so much 
 at variance in their chronology, that it deserves 
 little or no attention. Indeed, when we reflect that 
 the first edition of our author did not appear till 
 several years after his death, and was then pub- 
 lished by the players, who, it can scarcely be sup- 
 posed, would pay any regard to the order of time 
 in their arrangement of the dramas, it must be ob- 
 vious, that with a very few exceptions, the dates 
 givten to those compositions are purely conjectural. 
 
 A cloud rests over Sliakspeaie's career as an author, 
 which is not now likely to be dispersed ; those who 
 were most familiar with the operations of his ex- 
 traordinary genius, seem to have been hardly aware 
 " that he was not for a day, but for all time ;" they 
 paid their shillings and applauded his productions 
 on the stage, perhaps, but they had little tnste or 
 inclination to do them justice in the closet. Shak- 
 speare himself api^iears to have been remarkably 
 careless of his own fame : he produced his great 
 works without effort, and bequeathed them to his 
 country, unconscious of their merit, and reckless o( 
 their fate. 
 
 Malone. 
 
 Pericles not acknoivle 
 
 First Part of King Henry VI 1589 . . 
 
 Second . . ditto 1590 . . 
 
 Third . . ditto 1591 . . 
 
 A Midsummer Night's Dream 1.59'2 . . 
 
 Comedy of Errors 1593 . . 
 
 Taming of the Shrew ... 1594 . . 
 
 liove's Labour's L<ist 1594 . . 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona 1595 . . 
 
 Romeo and Juliet 1595 . . 
 
 Hamlet 1596 . . 
 
 King John 1596 . . 
 
 King Richard II 1597 . . 
 
 King Richard III 1597 . . 
 
 First Part of King Henry IV 1597 . . 
 
 Second . . ditto 1598 . . 
 
 Merchant of Venice 1598 . . 
 
 All's well that Ends well 1598 . . 
 
 KingHenryV 1599 . , 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing 1600 . . 
 
 As You Like It 1600 . . 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor 1601 . . 
 
 King Henry VIII 1601 . . 
 
 Troilus and Cressida 1602 , . 
 
 Measure for Measure 1603 . , 
 
 The Winter's Tale 1604 . . 
 
 King Lear. . . 1605 . . 
 
 Cymbeline 1605 . . 
 
 Macbeth 1606 . . 
 
 Julius Caesar 1607 ^^. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra 1608 ^. 
 
 Timon of Athens 1609 . . 
 
 Coriolanus 1610 . . 
 
 Othello 1611 . . 
 
 The Tempest 1612 . . 
 
 Twelfth Night 1614 . . 
 
 Titus Andronicus. not acknowledged by these critics, nor indeed 
 originally published about 1589. 
 
 Chalmers 
 (i(/ecl . 
 
 ]'589 . 
 
 1590 . 
 
 1.^)95 . 
 
 1598 
 1591 
 1598 
 1592 
 1595 
 1592 
 1597 
 1698 
 1595 
 1595 
 1596 
 1597 
 1597 
 1599 
 1597 
 1599 
 1599 
 1596 
 1613 
 1600 
 1604 
 1601 
 1605 
 1606 
 1606 
 1607 
 1608 
 1601 
 1609 
 1614 
 1613 
 1608 
 
 Drake. 
 
 1590 
 
 1.592 
 
 1592 
 
 1592 
 
 1593 
 
 1591 
 
 1594 
 
 1591 
 
 1595 
 
 1593 
 
 1597 
 
 1598 
 
 1.596 
 
 1595 
 
 1596 
 
 1596 
 
 1597 
 
 1598 
 
 1598 
 
 1599 
 
 1600 
 
 1601 
 
 1602 
 
 1601 
 
 1603 
 
 1610 
 
 1604 
 
 1605 
 
 1606 
 
 1607 
 
 1608 
 
 1602 
 
 1609 
 
 1612 
 
 161 1 
 
 1613 
 
 br any author of credit, but 
 
p 
 
 Y. 
 
 O 
 
 v. 
 
 ■n 
 
TEMPEST. 
 
 It is observed of The Tempest, lliat its plan is regiiliir; lliis the author of Tlie Revisal thinks, what I thiiik too, an 
 accijfiital effect of tlie story, not inteiideU <ir regarded hy our author. But, whatever niiglit be Shakspeare's intention in 
 forming or adopting the plot, he has made it insirumenta'l to I lie production of many characters, diversified' wit li boundless 
 invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate obser\ at ion of 
 life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is 
 the agency of airy spn its, and of an earthly goblin ; the operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventurns r.i 
 a desert island, the nhti\ e effusion of nniaught alfection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair fnr 
 wliom our passions and reason are equally iulercsled. Jvhnsuii. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 ALONSO. King of Naples. 
 
 SKB.\STI.\N, A/s Brother. 
 
 J'KOSI'KKO, the rUjhlJul DuTce of Milan. 
 
 AN'I'DNIO. his Brother, the iisiirpiinj /Juke of Milan. 
 
 FEKDINANU. Sun to the King of Aiip/e.i. 
 
 GONZALO, un honest old Cuidise/lur of Naples. 
 
 ADRIAN, ) .,,, 
 
 CALIBAN, a savage and clef orxied Slave. 
 TUINCL'LO, a Jeiter. 
 
 STEPHANO. a dnmhen Butler. 
 
 Master of a Ship. — Boatsivain, — and Mariners. 
 
 MIRANDA, Daughter to Prospero. 
 
 ARIEL, an airy Spirit. 
 
 IRIS, V 
 
 CERES, ) 
 
 JUNO, > Spirits. 
 
 Nymphs, \ 
 
 Reapers, ' 
 
 Other Spirits attending on Prospero^ 
 
 Scene, — The Sea, ivit/t a Ship; afterwards an uninhabited Island. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene 1. — On a Ship at Sea. — A storm, with 
 thunder and li<jhtnin<j. 
 Enter a Ship-7naster and a Boatswain. 
 Master. Boatswain, — 
 Boats. Here, master: What cheer? 
 Master. Good : Speak to the mariners ; fall to't 
 yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. 
 
 Enter Mariners. \_Exit. 
 
 Boats. Heigh, my hearts ; cheerly, rheerly, my 
 
 hearts ; yaie, yare : Take in the top-sail ; Tend to 
 
 the nia.ster's whistle. — Blow till thou burst thy wind, 
 
 if room enough I 
 
 Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand, 
 ■ GoNZ.'VLO, and others. 
 
 Alon. Good Boatswain, have care. Where's the 
 master? Play the men. 
 
 Boats. I pray now, keep below. 
 
 Ant. Where is the master, Boatswain? 
 
 Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our la- 
 bour; keep your cabins: you do assist tlie storm. 
 
 (io7i. Nay, good, be patient. 
 
 Boats. VVhen the sea is. Hence ! What care 
 these roarers lor the name of king? To cabin: si- 
 lence ; trouble us not. 
 
 Gon. Good; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. 
 
 Boats. None that I more love than myself. You 
 are a counsellor; if you can command the.se ele- 
 ments to silence, and work the peace of the present, 
 we will not hand a rope more; use your authority. 
 *if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, 
 and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mis- 
 hance of the hour, if it so hap. — Cheerly, good 
 hearts. — Out of our way, I say. [Exit. 
 
 Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : me- 
 
 iiks, he hath no drowning mark upon him; his 
 complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, 
 to his hanging I make the rope of his destiny our 
 cable, for our own doth little advantage ! If he be not 
 born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt. 
 Reenter Boatsivain. 
 
 Boats. Down with the topmast ; yare ; lower, 
 lower ; bring her to try with main course. {A cry 
 within.) A plague upon this howling! they are 
 louder than the weather, or our office. — 
 
 Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo. 
 Vet again ? what do you here ? Snail we give o'er, 
 and drown? Have you a mind to sink ? 
 
 Seb. A pox o' your thioat! you bawling, blas- 
 phemous, incharitable dog ! 
 
 Boats. Work you, then. 
 
 Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, insolent 
 noise-maker, we are less afraid to be drowned than 
 thou art. 
 
 Go7i. I'll warrant him from drowning; though 
 the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell, and as 
 leaky as an tinstaunched wench. 
 
 Boats. Lay her ahold, a-hold ; set her two 
 courses ; olf to sea again, lay her olK 
 Enter Mariners, wet. 
 
 Mar. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost I 
 
 [Exetmt. 
 
 Boats. What, must our mouths be cold? [them, 
 
 Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist 
 For our case is as theiis. 
 
 Seb. I am ont of |>atience. [drunkards, — 
 
 Ant. VVe are merely cheated of our lives by 
 This wide-chapped rascal ; — 'Would, thou might'st 
 The washing of ten tides ! [lie drowning, 
 
 Gon. He'll be hanged yet.; 
 Though every drop of water swear against it. 
 And gape at wid'st to glut him. 
 
 [A confused noise within.) — Mercy on us ! We 
 split, we split I — Farewell, my wife and children! 
 Farewell, brother I We split, we split, we split ! — 
 
 Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Exit. 
 
 Seb. Let's take leave of him. \Exit. 
 
 Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of 
 sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath, brown 
 furze, any thing: The wills above be done! but I 
 would fain die a dry death. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — The Island: before the Cell of 
 
 Prospero. 
 
 Enter Prospero and Miranda. 
 
 Mi7-a. If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them: 
 The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitdi 
 But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, 
 Dashes the fire out. O, I have siifi'ered 
 With those that I saw sulfer! a brave vessel, 
 Who had no doubt some noble creatures in hor, 
 Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
 Against my very heart! Poor souls! they pensh'd. 
 Had I been any god of power, I would 
 Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er 
 It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and 
 The freighting souls within her. 
 
 Pro. Be collected 
 
 No more amazement : tell your piteous heart, 
 There's no harm done. 
 
 Mira. O, woe the day ! 
 
 Pro. No harm 
 
 I have done nothing but in care of thee. 
 
TEMPEST. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 {Of tliee, my dear one! thee, my daughter!; who 
 Art ignorant ol v\liat tlioii art, noiiglit kiiowiujj 
 0( whence i am; nor that 1 am mure better 
 Tliaii Pros^jero, master of a luJl poor cell, 
 And thy no greater lather. 
 
 Mira More to know 
 
 Did never meddle with my thoughts. 
 
 Pro. 'Tis time 
 
 [ siiould inform thee further. Lend thy hand, 
 And pluck my magic garment from me. — S.>; 
 
 [Lays down his mantle.) 
 Lie there my art. — Wipe tliou thine eyes; liave 
 
 comfort. 
 The direful spectacle of the wreck, which toucii'd 
 The very virtue of compassion in tliee, 
 I have with such provision in mine art 
 So safely orderefl, tliat there is ni) soul — 
 No, not so much perdition as an hair, 
 Detid to any creature in tlie vessel [down ; 
 
 Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit 
 For thuu must now know further. 
 
 Mira. You have often 
 
 Begun to tell me what [ am ; but stopp"d. 
 And left ine to a bootless inquisition; 
 Concluding, Stay, not yet. — 
 
 Pro. The liour'.s now come ; 
 
 The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; 
 Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember 
 A ti;iie beiore we came unto tliis cell ? 
 I du not think thou can st ; for then thou was not 
 Out tliree years old.- 
 
 Mi 
 
 Certainly, sir, I can. 
 
 Pro. By what? by any other house, or person? 
 Ol any thing the image tell me, that 
 Hatn kept with thy remembrance. 
 
 Mira. ■ 'Tis far off: 
 
 AiiU rather like a dream than an assurance, 
 That iiiy leuiefflbrauce warrants; Had 1 not 
 Four or five women tmce, that tended me? [is it, 
 
 Pro. Tiion had'st, and more, Miranda: but liow 
 That this lives in thy mind ? VV^liut scest thou else 
 In the dark backward and abysm of time ? 
 If thou remember St aught, ere thou cam'st here, 
 How thou cam'st here, thou may'st. 
 
 Mira. _ But tiint I do not. 
 
 Pro. Twelve years since, IMiranda, twelve years 
 Thy father was tlie duke of Milan, and fsince, 
 
 A prince of power. 
 
 Mira. Sir, are not you my Hither? 
 
 Pro. Thy mother was a piece ol' virtue, and 
 She said — thou wast my daughter; and thy fatlier 
 Was dake of Milan ; and his only heir 
 A jirincess; no worse issued. 
 
 Mira. O, the heavens! 
 
 Wiiat foul play had we, that we came from thence? 
 Or blessed was't, we did? 
 
 Pro. Both, both, my girl: 
 
 By ibul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence ; 
 But blessedly luilp hither. 
 
 Mira. O, my heart bleeds 
 
 To think o' the teen that I have turn d you to. 
 Which is from my remembrance ! Please you, i'urther. 
 
 Pro. My brotner, and thy uncle, calfd Antonio, — 
 I pray thee, mark me, — that a brother should 
 Be so perfidious! — he, whom next thyself, 
 Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put 
 The manage of my state ; as, at that time. 
 Through all the signiories it was the firsi, 
 And Prospero the prime diike; being so reputed 
 In dignity, and, for the liberal arts, 
 WitJiout a parallel : those being all luy study. 
 The government I cast upon mv brother. 
 And to my state grew stranger," being transported, 
 
 And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle 
 
 Dost thou attend me ? 
 
 ^l^ra. Sir, most heedfully. | 
 
 Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits. j 
 How to deny them ; wlijui to advance', and whom | 
 To trash for over-topping; new created ftliem, ! 
 
 The creatures that were mine; 1 .say, or changd" ' 
 
 Or else new form'd them ; having both the key 
 Of officer and oflice, set all hearts 
 To what tune pleasVl his ear : that now he was 
 The ivy, whicli had hid my princely trunk, ["(^t. 
 And siu k'd my verdure out ou't. — Thou attend's* 
 J pray thee, mark me. 
 
 Mira. O, good sir, I do. 
 
 Pro. I thus ne^'lertlng wiuldiy ends, all dedicate 
 To closeness, and the bettering of my mind 
 With that, which, but by beiiin so retird, 
 Oer priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother 
 Awak"d an evil nature : and luy trust. 
 Like a good parent, did beget of him 
 A falsehood, in its contrary as great 
 As my trust was; which had, indeed, no limit, 
 A confidence sans bound. He bemg thus lorded, 
 ISot only with what my revenue yieldetl. 
 But what my power might else exicl, — like one. 
 Who having, unto truth, by telling of it. 
 Made such a sinner of his memory. 
 To credit his own lie, — he did believe 
 He was the duke, ; out of the substitution. 
 And executing the outward lace ot royalty. 
 With all prerogative : — Hence his ambition 
 Growing, — Do.st hear ? 
 
 Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 
 
 Pro. To have no screen between this part he 
 play'd, 
 And him he play'd it for, he needs will be 
 Absolute Milan: Me, poor man ! — my library 
 Was dukedom large enough; of tem|)oral royalties 
 He thinks me now incapable : confederates 
 (So diy he was for sway) with the king of Naples, 
 'J'o give him annual tribute, do him homage; 
 Subject his coronet to the ciou n, and bend 
 'i'he dukedom, yetunhow'd, (alas! poor Milan!) 
 To most ignoble stooping. 
 
 Mir 
 
 O, the '' 
 
 -.1 
 
 Pro. Mark his condition, and the e\ent ; then tell 
 If this might be a brother. [ me, 
 
 Mira. I should sin 
 
 To think but nobly of my gn'iidmother : 
 Giiod wouibs have borue bad sons. 
 
 Pro. Now the condition. 
 
 The king of Naples, being an enemy 
 To me inveterate, hearkei s my brother's suit; 
 Which was, that he in lieu o' tlie j)remises, — 
 Of homage, and 1 know rot how much tribute, — 
 Siioiild presently extiipale me and mine 
 Out of the dukedom ; ai d confer fair Alilan, 
 With all the honours, en my brother: Wliereon, 
 A treacherous army levied, one midnight 
 Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open 
 'I'he gates of Miian : and, i'the dead of darkness, 
 The ministers for the jjurjiose Jiiirried thence 
 Me. and thy crying self. 
 
 Mira. Alack, for pity I 
 
 I, not rememb'iing how I cried fut then, 
 Will cry it o'er again : it is a hint. 
 That wrings mine eyes. 
 
 Pro. Hear a little further. 
 
 And then I'll bring thee to the jnesent business. 
 Which now's iijon us : without the which, this story 
 Were most impertinent. 
 
 Mira. Wherefore did they not 
 
 That honr destroy us ? 
 
 Pro. Well demanded, wench ; 
 
 My tale jirovokes that question. Dear, they durst not; 
 (So dear the io\ e my people i)ore me) nor set 
 A mark so b oody on the business ; but 
 With colours fairer painted their foul ends. 
 In few, they hurried us aboard a bark ; 
 Bore lis some leagues to sea ; where they preparJ 
 A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, 
 Norlackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats 
 Instini tnely had quit it : tliere they hoist us, 
 To ciy !o the sea, that roar'd mi ii- ; to sigh 
 'I'o the w inds, whose pity, sighing back again. 
 Did us but loving wrong. 
 
 Ml, a. Alack ! what (lotihir 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Was I then to you ! 
 
 Pro. O ! a cherubim 
 
 TlioJi v\ .Tst, that did preserve pie ! Tliou didst smile, 
 Iidnsed witli u fortitude iroin henven, 
 VVlien I Imve deck'd the sea witli drojjs full salt; 
 Under riiy burden groau'd ; vvliich rais'd in iv.e 
 An undergoing stomach, to bear up 
 Against what should ensue. 
 
 Mira. How came we ashore? 
 
 Pro. By Providence divine. 
 Some t'ood we had, and some fresh water, that 
 A n(ib!e Neapolitan, Conzalo, 
 Out of his charity (who bein^ then appointed 
 • Master of this design,) did give us; witli 
 Rich garments, linens stufls, and necessaries, 
 VVhiih since have steaded much ; so oi his gentleness, 
 Knovving I lov'd my books, he iurnish'd me, 
 Frorii my own library, with volumes that 
 I pnz'd above my dukedom. 
 
 Mira. ' 'Would I might 
 
 But ever see that man ! 
 
 Pro. Now I arise : — 
 
 Sit stdl, and hear the last of our sea-.sorrow. 
 Here in this island we arriv'd ; and here 
 Have I, thy school-master, made thee more profit 
 Than other princes can, that have more time 
 For vainer hours, ami tutors not so carelul. fyoti, sir, 
 
 Mira. Heavens thank you for't ! And now, I pray 
 (For still 'lis beating in my luiud,) vour reason 
 For raising this sea-storm i" 
 
 Pro. Know thus far forth. — 
 
 By accident most strange, bountiftd Fortune, 
 Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 
 Brought to this shore : and by my prescience 
 I find my zenith doth depend •.•pon 
 A most ausjjicious star; wiiose influence 
 If now I court not, but onut, my fortunes 
 Will ever after droop. — Here cease more questions ; 
 Tliou art inclin'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness. 
 And give it way; — I know thou can'st not choose. 
 
 f Miranda sleeps. J 
 Come away, .servant, come: I am ready now ; 
 Approach, my Ariel; come. 
 
 Enter Ariel. 
 
 Art. AM hail, great master ! grave sir, hail ! I come 
 To answer thy best pleasure ; be"t to fiy, 
 'J'o swim, to dive into tlie tire, to ride 
 On the curl'd clouds : to thy strong bidding, task 
 Ariel, and all his quality. 
 
 Pro. Hast thou, spirit, 
 
 Perf'orm'd to point the tempest that 1 bade thee '! 
 
 Ari. To every article. 
 [ boarded the king's ship : now on the be.ik. 
 Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
 I HamM amazement : sometimes I'd divide. 
 And burn in many places ; on the top-mast. 
 The yards and bowsprit, vyonld I (lame distinctly, 
 'J'hen meet and join : Jove's lightnings, the precursors 
 O' the dreadtiil tuuiider-claps, more niomtntary 
 ^Lud sight out running were not : the tire and cracks 
 )f sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune 
 eem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble ; 
 Yea, his dread trident shake. 
 
 Pro. My brave spirit ! 
 
 VVho was so firm, so constant, that this coil 
 Would not infect his reason ? 
 
 Ari. Not a soul 
 
 But felt a fever of the mad. and plav'd 
 Some tricks of desperation : all, but mariners, 
 Piung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the ve.xiel. 
 1 hen all afire with me : the king's son, Feidinand, 
 With hair up staring, (then like reeds, not hair,) 
 Was 'he first man that ieap'd ; cried, " Hell is empty, 
 And all the devils are here." 
 
 Pro. Why, that's my spirit .' 
 
 But was not this nigh shore ? 
 
 Ari. Close by, my master. 
 
 Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe ? 
 
 Ari. Not a hair perish'd : 
 
 On their sustaining garments not a blemish, 
 IJut ftesherthan belnre : and. as tliou bad'st me, 
 In troops 1 have dispeis'd tiiem 'bout the isle 
 'i'he kini;'s son have I landed l)_v himsell ; 
 W hom i left, cooling of the iiir vviin signs 
 In an odd angle of the isle and sitting. 
 His aims in this sad knot. 
 
 Pro. Of t lie king's ship 
 
 The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd, 
 ."Vud all the rest o' the fleet? 
 
 Ari. Safely in harbour 
 
 Is tlie king's sliij) ; in the dee|) nook, where once 
 Thou calldst me up nt midnight to fi-tcli dew 
 From tie still-vex'd Bt-i moot lies, there she's hid : 
 1 he mariners all under hatches stow'd ; 
 whom, with a charm juin'd to their sutfer'd labour 
 1 li ive left asleep : and for the rest, o' the fleet, 
 Wli'ch 1 dis, ers'd, they all have nut again; 
 And are upon the Mediterranean liote. 
 Bound sadly home liir Naples ; 
 Supposing that they saw the king's sliip wreck'd, 
 And his great person perish. 
 
 Pro. Ariel, thy charge 
 
 Exactly is perform'd ; but there's more work : 
 What is the time o'the day? 
 
 Ari. Past the mid season. 
 
 Pro. At least two glasses : the time 'twixt six and 
 Must by us both be spent mcst preciously, [now, 
 
 Ari. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me 
 pains, 
 Let me remember thee what tliou hast promis'd. 
 Which is not yet perform'd me. 
 
 Pro. How now ? moody ? 
 
 What is't thou can'st demand ? 
 
 Ari. My liberty. 
 
 Pro. Before the time be out? no more. 
 
 Ari. I pray thee 
 
 Remember. I have done thee worthy service ; 
 Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd 
 Without or grudge orgruniblings : thou didst promise 
 To bate lue a full year. 
 
 Pro. Dost thou forget 
 
 From what a torment I did free thee ? 
 
 Ari. No 
 
 Pro. Thou dost ; and think'st 
 It much to tread the ooze of tlie salt deep ; 
 To run upon the sharp wind of the north ; 
 To do nie business in (he veins o' the earth, 
 \Vhen it is bak'd with frost. 
 
 Ari. I do not, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing I Hast thou forgot 
 The f'lul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, 
 W as grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her? 
 
 Ari. No, sir. 
 
 Pro. Thou hast : where was she bom ? 
 
 speak ; tell me. 
 
 Ari. Sir, in Argier. 
 
 Pro. O, was she so? I must, 
 
 Once in a month, recount what thou hast been, 
 VVhicli thou forget'st. This danm'd witch, Sycorax, 
 For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
 To enter human hearing, from Aigier, 
 Thou know'st, was banish'd ; for one thing she did. 
 They would not take her life : is not this true ? 
 
 Ari. Ay, sir. ("child, 
 
 Pro. 'I'iiis blueey'd hag was hither bronght with 
 And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave. 
 As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant: 
 And, for thou wert a spirit too delicate 
 To act h> r earthly and abhorr'd commands, 
 Refusing her grand liests, she did confine thee, 
 By help of her more potent ministers. 
 And in her most unmitigable rage. 
 Into a cloven pine ; within which rift 
 Imprison'd, tiioti didst painfully lemain 
 A dozen years ; within which space she died. 
 And h ft thee there; where thou did'st vent thy groans 
 As fast as mill-wheels strike : then was this island, 
 (Sav'e for the son that she did litter here, 
 A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not hononrd with 
 
TEMPEST. 
 
 Act L 
 
 ^ human shape. 
 
 Art. Yes ; Caliban, lier son. 
 
 Pro. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Ciiliban, 
 Whom now I kei'p in service. Tiioii best know"st 
 What torment I did find thee in : thy groans 
 Did make wolvts howl, and penetrate the breasts 
 Of ever-angry bears ; it was a torment 
 To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax 
 Could not again undo; it \vas niiue art, 
 When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape 
 The pine, and let thee out. 
 
 Art. I thank thee, master. 
 
 Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, 
 Ar)d peg thee in his knotty entrails, till 
 Tiioii hast howl'd away twelve winter.s. 
 
 Art. Pardon, master : 
 
 I will be correspondent to command. 
 And do my spiriting gently. 
 
 Pro. Do so ; and after two days 
 
 I will discharge thee. 
 
 Ari. That's my noble master 
 
 What shall 1 do? say what? what snail I do V 
 
 Pro. Go, make thyself like to a nymph of the sea ; 
 Be subject to no sight but mine : invisible 
 To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape. 
 And hither come in t: hence, with diligence. 
 
 \Exit Ariel. 
 Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; 
 Awake ! 
 
 Mira. The strangeness of your story put 
 Heaviness in me. 
 
 Pro. Shake it off: come on ; 
 
 We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never 
 Yields us kind answer. 
 
 Mira. 'Tis a villain, sir, 
 
 I do not love to look on. 
 
 Pro. But, as 'tis. 
 
 We cannot miss him : he does make our fiie, 
 Fetcii in our wood, and serve in nlliLes 
 That profit us. What, ho ! sla\ e 1 Caliban ! 
 Tiiou earth, thou ! Sjieak. 
 
 Cal. CWithin.J There's wood enough within. 
 
 Pro. Come forth, I say : tiiere's other business for 
 Corne forth, thou tortoise! when? — ftliee; 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, like a water-vymph. 
 Fine apparition ! iMy quaint Ariel, 
 Hark in tliine ear. 
 
 Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself 
 Upon thy wicked dam, come lorth I 
 Enter C.\liban. 
 
 Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd 
 Witii raven's feather from unwholesome fen, 
 Drop on you botii ! a southeast blow on ye. 
 And blister you all o'er! [cramps. 
 
 Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have 
 Side-stitches that shall pen thy breatli up ; urchins ■ 
 Sliall, for that vast of night that they may work. 
 All exercise on thee : tliou slialt be pinch'd 
 As tliick as honey-r.otnbs, each pinch more stinging 
 Than bees that made them. 
 
 ■ Cal. I must eat my dinner. 
 
 T is island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
 W'lich thou tak'st from me. Wlien thou cam'st first 
 Thou strok'st me, and mad'st much ot me ; would'st 
 
 give me 
 Water witli berries in't ; and teach me how 
 T"> name the bigger light, and how the less. 
 That burn by day and night : aud then I lov'd tiiee. 
 And shew'd thee all th^qualities o' the isle, [tile ; 
 The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fer- 
 Cursed be I that did so I — All tlie charms 
 Ot Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! 
 For 1 am all the subjects tiiat you lia\e. 
 Which tiist was mine own king : and here you sty me 
 [n tnis hard rock, wliiles you do keep from me 
 The rest of the island. 
 
 Pro. Thou most lying slave, [thee, 
 
 Wiiom stripes may move, not kindness: 1 have us'd 
 
 Filth as thou art, wi(h human care ; and lodg'd the 
 In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate 
 The honourof my child. 
 
 Cal. O ho, O lio ! — 'would it had been done ! 
 Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else 
 This isle with Calibans. 
 
 Pro. Abhorred slave , 
 
 VVhich any print of goodness will not take. 
 Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee. 
 Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hoiii 
 One thing or other : when thou did'st not, savage. 
 Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like 
 A thing most brutish, 1 endow'd thy purposes 
 With words that made them known : but thy vile race. 
 Though thou did'.'it iearn, had that in't, which good 
 
 natures 
 Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou 
 Deservedly confin'd into this rock. 
 Who had'.st deserv'd more than a prison. 
 
 Cal. You taught me language; and my profit on't 
 Is, I know how to curse : the red plague rid you. 
 For learning me your language I 
 
 Pro. Hag-seed, hence ! 
 
 Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou wert best. 
 To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? 
 If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly 
 What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps; 
 Fill all thy bones with aches: make thee roar. 
 That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 
 
 Cal. No, 'pray thee ! — 
 I must obey : his art is of such jiower, \^Aside. 
 
 It would control my dam's god, Sttebos, 
 And make a vassal of him. 
 
 Pro. So, slave : hence ! 
 
 [Exit Caliban. 
 Re-enter Ariel, invisible, playing and siitijiny : 
 Ferdinand folloiuing him. 
 
 ARIEL'S SONG. 
 
 Come unto these yellow sands. 
 
 And then trihe hands : 
 Cotirt'sied tohen you have, and Iciss'd, 
 
 (The ivild waves tvhisf) 
 Foot it featly here and there; 
 And. sioeet sprites, the burdeyt bear. 
 
 Hark, hark I 
 Bur. Biivvgh, wowgh. {Dispersedly.) 
 
 The ivatch-dogs bark : 
 Birr. Bovvgh, wowgh. (Dispersedly.) 
 
 Hark, hark ! I hear 
 The strain of struttiny chaniicher. 
 Cry, Cock-a doodle-doo. 
 Fer. Where should this nmsic be? i' the air, oi 
 the earth? 
 It sounils no more : — and sure, it waits upon 
 Some god of <lie island. Sitting on a bank. 
 Weeping again the king my father's wreck. 
 This nnisic crfpt by me upon the waters; 
 Allaying both their fury, ami my passion. 
 With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it. 
 Or it hath drawn me rather : — But 'tis gone. 
 No, it begins again. 
 
 Ariel sings. 
 Fu/lfathotn Jive thy father lies ; 
 Of his bo?ies are coral made ; 
 Those are pearls tliat were his eyes : 
 
 NoC'.iyiy of him that duth fade. 
 But doth suffer a. sea chamje 
 Into something rich and strange. 
 Sea nympJis hourly ring his knidl : 
 Hark! now I hear Ihem.— ding-dong, bell 
 [Burden, ding-dong 
 Fer. The ditty does remember my drovvn'd father: 
 This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
 That the eaitii owes: — I hear it now above me. 
 
 Pro. The fringed cm tains of thine eye advance. 
 And say, what thou seest yond'. 
 
 Mira. What is't? a spirit? 
 
 Lord, how it looks about' Believe me, sir. 
 
Scene 2, 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 it rarries a brave form : — But 'tis a spirit. ( senses 
 
 Pro. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps, and hath such 
 As we iiave, sucii : this gallant, which thou seest. 
 Was iii the wreck ; and but he's something stain'd 
 With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'stcall 
 A goodly person ; he hath lost his fellows, [him 
 And strays about to find them. 
 
 Mira. I might call him 
 
 A thing divine; for nothing natural 
 I ever saw so noble. 
 
 Pro. It goes on, [Aside.) 
 
 As my soul prompts it: — Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free 
 Within two days lor this. [thee 
 
 Fer. Most sure, the goddess 
 
 Ou whom these airs attend ! — Vouchsafe my prayer 
 May know, if you remain upon this island: 
 And that you wilt some good instruclion give, 
 How I may bear me heie : My |jrime request, 
 Which I do last pronnunce, is, O, you wonder! 
 If vou be maid or no? 
 
 'Mira. No wonder, sir; 
 
 But, certainly a maid. 
 
 Fer. My language ! heavens ! — 
 
 I am the best of them tbat speak this speech, 
 Were I but where 'tis sjmken. 
 
 Pro. How ! the best ? 
 
 What wertthou, if the king of Naples heard thee? 
 
 Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders 
 To hear thee speak of Na les. He does hear me; 
 And, that he does, I weep : myself am Naples; 
 Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld 
 The king my father wreck'd. 
 
 Mira. Alack, for mercy! 
 
 Fer. Ves, faith, and all his lords: the dnke of Milan 
 And ills bra\e son, being twain. 
 
 Pro. The duke of Milan, 
 
 And Ills more braver daughter, could control thee 
 If niiw'twere fit to do't : — At the first sight [Aside.) 
 They ha\e chang'd eyes : — Delicate Ariel, 
 ni set thee free for this! — A word, good sir; 
 t fear you have done yourself some wrong : A word. 
 
 Mira. Why speaks my father so uuKeutly ? This 
 Is the ftiird man that e'er I saw ; the first 
 That e'er.I si^jh'd for: pity move my father 
 To be inclin'd my way ! 
 
 Fer. O, if a virgin, 
 
 And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 
 The queen of Naples. 
 
 Pro. Soft, sir ; one woixl more.- 
 
 They are both in cithers powers; but this swift 
 
 business 
 I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.) 
 Make the prize light. — One word more; I charge 
 
 thee. 
 That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp 
 The name thon ow'st net; and hast put thyself 
 Upon this island, as a spy, to win it 
 I^'rom me, the lord ou't. 
 
 Fer. No, as I am a man. 
 
 Mir. There's nothingill can dwell in such a temple: 
 If the ill spirit have so fiiir an house. 
 Good things will strive to dwell with't. 
 
 Pro. Follow me.- (To Ferd.) 
 
 Speak not yon for liim ; he's a traitor. — Come. 
 I'll miinacle thy neck and feet together: 
 Sea-water shall thou drink, thy lood shall be 
 The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks 
 Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. 
 
 Fer. No ; 
 
 I will resist such entertainment, till 
 Mine enemy has more power. [He draws.) 
 
 Mira. O, dear father, 
 
 Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
 He's gentle, and not fearful. 
 
 Pro. What, I say. 
 
 My foot my tutor! Pot thy sword up, traitor; 
 'Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike, thy con- 
 science 
 ia so possess'd with guilt : come from thy ward ; 
 For I can here disarm tliee with this stick. 
 
 And make thy weapon drop. 
 
 Mira. Beseech you, father! 
 
 Pro. Hence ! hang not on my garments. 
 
 Mira. Sir, have pity, 
 
 I'll be his surety. 
 
 P'-o. Silence ! one word more 
 
 Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! 
 An advocate for an impostor ? hush ! 
 Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he 
 Having seen but him and Caliban : Foolish wench 
 'i'o the most of men this is a Caliban, 
 And they to him are angels. 
 
 Mira. My afTectious 
 
 Are then most humble ; I have no ambition 
 To see a goodlier man. 
 
 Pro. Come on ; obey : [To Ferd 
 
 Thy nerves are in their infancy again. 
 And have no vigour in them. 
 
 Fer. So they are : 
 
 My spirits, as in a dream, are all botmd up. 
 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. 
 The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats, 
 To whom I am subdued, are but liglit to me. 
 Might I but through my prison once a day 
 Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
 [>et liberty make use of; space enough 
 Have I in such a prison. 
 
 Pro. It works : — Come on.— 
 
 Thou hast done well, fine Ariel I— Follow me. — 
 
 [To Ferd. and Mir.) 
 Hark, what thou else shall do me. ( To Ariel.) 
 
 Mira. Beofcomloit; 
 
 My father's of a better nature, sir. 
 Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted. 
 Which now came from hiiu. 
 
 Pro. Thou shiU be as free 
 
 As mountain winds : but then exactly do 
 All points of my command. 
 
 Ari. To the syllable. 
 
 Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. [Fxeiaii 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 1. — Another part of the Island. 
 
 Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, 
 Adrian. Francisco, and others. 
 
 Con. 'lieseech you, sir, be merry : you have cause 
 (So have we all) of joy ; for our escape 
 Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe 
 Is common; everyday, some sailor's wife, 
 'I'he masters of some merchant, and the merchant, 
 Hav e just our theme of woe : bnt for the miracle, 
 I mean onr preservation, few in millions 
 Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh 
 Our sorrow with our comfort. 
 
 A Ion. Pr'ythee, peace. 
 
 Seb He receives comfort like cold porridge. 
 
 A>it. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 
 
 Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; 
 by and by it will strike. 
 
 Gon. Sir,: — 
 
 Seb. One:— Tell. 
 
 Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's olTer'd, 
 Comes to the entertainer — 
 
 Seb. A dollar. 
 
 Go7i. Dolour comes to him, indeed ; you have 
 spoken truer than you purposed. [should. 
 
 Seb. Vou have taken it wiselierthan I m^ant you 
 
 Gvn. Therefore, my lord, — 
 
 Ant. Fy, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! 
 
 Alun. I pr'ythee, spare. 
 
 Go7i. VVell, I have done : But yet — 
 
 Seb. He will be talking. 
 
 Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good 
 wager, first begins to crow? 
 
 Seb. The old cock. 
 
 Ant. The cockrel. 
 
 Seb. Done : The wager ? 
 
 Ant. A laughter. 
 
 Seb. A match. 
 
TEMPEST. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Adr. Though this island seeiu to be desert, — 
 
 Seb. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ant. Si), you've pay'd. 
 
 Adr. Uniuhabitable. aud almost inaccessible, — 
 
 Seb. Yet. 
 
 Adr. Yet — 
 
 Ant. He could not miss it. 
 
 Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and de- 
 licate temperance. 
 
 Ant. Teuiperance was a delicate wench, [livered. 
 
 Seh. Ay, and a .subtle ; as he most learnedly de- 
 
 Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. 
 
 Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 
 
 A7it. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 
 
 Gun. Here is every thing advantageous to life. 
 
 Ant. True ; save means to live. 
 
 Seb. Of that there's none, or little. [green! 
 
 (ion. How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how 
 
 Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. 
 
 Seb. With an eye of green in't. 
 
 Ant. He misses not much. 
 
 Seb. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally. 
 
 Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost 
 oeyond credit), — 
 
 Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. 
 
 Gon. 'I'hat our garments being, as they were, 
 drenchfd in the sea, hold, notuithstandine, their 
 freshness, and glosses ; beiug rather new dy'd, than 
 stain'd with salt water. 
 
 Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would 
 it not say, he lies ? 
 
 Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 
 
 Gon. Methiiiks, our garments are now as t'resh as 
 when we put them on first in Alric, at the marriage 
 of tlie king's fair daughter, Clarjbel, to the king of 
 Tunis. 
 
 Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well 
 in our return. 
 
 Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a 
 paragon to their queen. 
 
 (> tiw. Not since widow Dido's time. 
 
 A7it. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that 
 widow in ? Widow Dido ! 
 
 Seb. What if he had said, widower .i^neas too? 
 good lord, how you take it! 
 
 Adr. Widow Dido, said you ? you make me study 
 of that : She was of Carthage, not ot Tunis. 
 
 Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
 
 Adr. Cartilage? 
 
 Gon. I assure you, Carthage. 
 
 Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. 
 
 A'l-6. He hath rais'd tiie wall, and liouses too. 
 
 Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy 
 next? 
 
 Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his 
 pocket, and give it his son for an apple. 
 
 Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, 
 bring forth more islands. 
 
 Gon. Ay? _ 
 
 Ant. Why, in good time 
 
 Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem 
 now as fresh, as wlien we were at Tunis at the mar- 
 riage of your daughter, who is now queen. 
 
 Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. 
 
 Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 
 
 Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido. 
 
 Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first 
 day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. 
 
 Ant. Thatsoit was well fishd for. 
 
 Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? 
 
 Alon. You cram tliese words into mine ears, against 
 Tiie stomach of my sense. Woidd I had never 
 Married my daugiiter there ! for, coming thence. 
 My son is lost; aud, in my rate, she too. 
 Who is so far Irom Italy remov'd, 
 I ne'er again shall see her. O tliou mine heir 
 Of Naples and oi Milan, wliat strange fish 
 Hath made his meal on thee ! 
 
 Fran. Sir, he may live ; 
 
 I saw him beat the surges under Iiiiii, 
 
 And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water. 
 
 Whose enmity lie flung aside, and breasted 
 
 The surge most swoln thatmet him ; his bold head 
 
 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 
 
 Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
 
 To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd. 
 
 As stooping to relieve him : I not doubt. 
 
 He came alive to land. 
 
 Alon. No, no, he's gone. 
 
 Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loSs , 
 That would not bless our Europe with your daughter. 
 But rather lose her to an African; 
 Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye. 
 Who hath cause to wet the grief on't 
 
 Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. 
 
 Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otlier- 
 By all of us ; and the fair soul hersr If |_wisa 
 
 Wfcigli'd, between lothness and obedience, at 
 Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost 
 I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have [your son. 
 More widows in them of this business' making. 
 Than we bring men to comfort them : the fault's 
 Your own. 
 
 Alo7i. So is the dearest of the loss. 
 
 Gon. My lord Sebastiau, 
 
 The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness. 
 And time to speak it in; you rub the sore. 
 When you should bring the plaster. 
 
 Seb. Very weli. 
 
 Ant. And most chirurgeonly. 
 
 Gon. It is ibul weather in us all, good sir. 
 When you are cloudy. 
 
 Seb. Foul weather ? 
 
 Ant. Very foul 
 
 Gon. Had T plantation of this isle, my lord, — 
 
 Ant. He'd sov,' it with nettle-seed. 
 
 Seb. Or docks, or mallows. 
 
 Gon. And were the king of it. What uoiiW I do? 
 
 Seb. "Scape being drunk, ior want of wine. 
 
 Gon. V the commonwealth, I would by contraries 
 Execute all tilings: for no kind of tratKc 
 Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; 
 Letters should not be known ; no use ot service, 
 Of riches, or oi i overty ; no contracts, 
 Successions ; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none : 
 No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil : 
 No occupation; all men idle, all; 
 And women too ; but innocent and pure : 
 No sovereignty : — 
 
 Seb. And yet he would be king on't 
 
 Atit. The lattiT end of his conmionwealtli forgets 
 the beginning. 
 
 Gon. All tilings in common nature should produce 
 Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony. 
 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need oi any engine. 
 Would I not have : but nature should bring forth. 
 Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance, 
 To feed my innocent people. 
 
 Seb. No marrying among his subjects? 
 
 A7it. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves. 
 
 Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir. 
 To excel the golden age. 
 
 Seb. ' Save his majesty ! 
 
 Ant. Long live Gonzalo! 
 
 Gon. And, do you mark me, sir'? — fn»s. 
 
 Alon. Pr' ytiiee no more : thou dost talk nothing to 
 
 Gon. I do well believe your highness, and did it 
 to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who ^ue 
 of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always 
 use to laugh at nothing. 
 
 Ant. 'Tuas you we laugh'd at. 
 
 Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am no- 
 thitin to you: so you may continue, and laugh at 
 nothing still. 
 
 Ant. Wliat a blow was there given ! 
 
 Seb. An it had not fallen Hat-long. 
 
 Gon. Vou are gentlemen of brave mettle ; you 
 would lift tlie moon out of lier sphere, if she woul'l 
 totitiiiue in it five wcf-ks without changing. 
 
 Enter Ariel invisible, p'aying solemn mtuie 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Seb. We would so, and then ^o a bat fowling'. 
 Anl. Nav, "ood liiy loid, bi' not angry. 
 Gun. No, 1 warruiit y(jii; I will not adventure 
 my dK-iCietion so weakly. Will yon langli me asleep, 
 ior I am very heavy ? 
 
 .4w*. Go sleep, and hear ns. 
 
 {All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant.) 
 
 A Ion. What, all so soon asleep ! I wish nnne eyes 
 
 Would, with theiiiseK es, shut np my thoughts : I 
 
 I'hey are inclind to do so. ["find, 
 
 Seb. Please you, sir. 
 
 Do nut omit the heavy offer of it: 
 It seldom visits .sorrow; when it doth, 
 !t is a coml'orter. 
 
 Ant. We two, my lord, 
 
 Will guard your person, while you take your rest. 
 And watch your safety. 
 
 Alon. Thank yon : Wondrous heavy. — 
 
 lAlonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. 
 
 Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them ! 
 
 Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. 
 
 Seb. Why 
 
 Doth it not then our eye-lids sink ? I find not 
 Myself dispos'd to sleep. 
 
 Ant. Nor T ; my spirits are nimble. 
 
 They fell together all, as by consent; 
 They dropp'd, as by a ihunder-struke. What might, 
 Worthy Sebastian / — O, what might :' — No more : — 
 And yet, methinks, 1 see It in thy face, [and 
 
 What thou should'st be; the occasion speaks tliee ; 
 My strong imagination sees a crowQ 
 Dropping upon thy head. 
 
 Seb. What, art thou waking? 
 
 Anl. Do you not hear me speak ";* 
 
 Seb. I do ; and, snrely. 
 
 It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st 
 Out of thy sleep: What is it tliou didst say? 
 This is a strange repose, to be asleep 
 With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving. 
 And yet so fast asleep. 
 
 Ayit. Noble Sebastian, 
 
 Thou Itt'st thy fortune sleep — die, rather ; wink'st 
 \Vhiies tiiou art waking. 
 
 Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly ; 
 
 Tliere's meaning in thy snores. 
 
 Ant. I am more serious than my custom : yon 
 IMust he so too, if heed me ; which to do, 
 Treblfs thee o'er. 
 
 Seb. Well ; I am standing water. 
 
 Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. 
 
 Seb. Do so : to ebb. 
 
 Hereditary sloth instructs me. 
 
 Ant. O. 
 
 If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish. 
 Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it. 
 You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, 
 ]Most often do so near the bottom run. 
 By their own fear, or sloth. 
 
 Seb. Pr'ythee, say on : 
 
 The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim 
 A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed. 
 Which throes thee much to yield. 
 
 Ant. Thus, sir: 
 
 Although this lord of weak remembrance, this 
 (Who shall be of as little memory, 
 When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded 
 (For he s a spirit of persuasion only,) 
 The king his son's alive ; "tis as impossible 
 That he's uudrown'd, as he that sleeps here, swims. 
 
 Si'b. I h;)ve no hope 
 That he's uudrown'd. 
 
 Ant. O, out of that no hope, 
 
 \Vliat great hope have you ! No hope, that way, is 
 .A,n:ither way so high an hope, that even 
 Anibiti(ju cannot pierce a wink beyond. 
 But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with 
 That Kerdmaud is drown'd? [me, 
 
 Seb He'.s gone. 
 
 Ant. ^ Then, tell me, 
 
 Who's the next heir of Naples? 
 
 Seb. Claribel. " 
 
 Anl. She, that is queen of Tunis ; slie, that dwellj 
 Ten leagui s beyond man's life ; she, that from Naples 
 Can have no note, unless the sun were post, 
 (The m»n i' the moon's too slow,) till new born china 
 Be rough and razorable ; slie, from whom 
 We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, 
 And by that destin'd to perform an act. 
 Whereof what's past is prologue ; what to come. 
 In yours and my discharge. ' 
 
 Seb. What stulfis this?— How say you? 
 
 ''I'is true, my brother's daughter's queen ol Tunis; 
 So is she heir of Naples ; twixt w Inch region.s 
 There is some space. 
 
 A?if. A space whose every cubit 
 
 Seems to cry out, How shall that Ciaribel 
 Measure us back to Naples !^K.ev\) m Timis, 
 And let Sebastian wake! — Say, this were death 
 That now hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no worse 
 Than now they are : there be, that can rule Naples, 
 As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate 
 As amply, and unnecessarily, 
 As tiiis tlonzalo ; 1 myself could make 
 A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore 
 The mind that I do! what a sleep were this 
 For your advancement! Do you understand me? 
 Seb. Methinks, I do. 
 
 Ant. And how does your conten": 
 
 Tender your own good fortune? 
 
 Seb. I remember, 
 
 \ ou did supplant your brother Prospero. 
 
 Ant. True; 
 
 And, look, how well my garments sit upon me ; 
 Much feater than before : My brother's servants 
 Were then my fellows, now they are my men. 
 Seb. But, for your conscience — 
 Aiit. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, 
 'Twould put me to my slipper: but I fee! not 
 This deity in my bosom ; twenty consciences, 
 That stand "twixt me and Milan, candied be they. 
 And uielt, ere they molest I Here lies your brotlier. 
 No better than the eaith he lies upon, 
 If he were that which now he's like ; whom I, 
 With this obedient steel, three inches of it, 
 Can lay to bed for ever: whiles you doing thus. 
 To the perpetual wink for aye might put 
 This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who 
 Sliould not upbraid our course. For all the rest. 
 They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk; 
 They'll tell the clock to any business that 
 We say befits the hour. 
 
 Seb. Thy case, dear friend. 
 
 Shall be my precedent; as thou got st IVIilan, 
 ril^ouie by Naples. Draw thy sword ; one stroke 
 Shall free thee from the tribute which thou jiay'st; 
 And I the king shall love thee. 
 
 Ant. Draw together: 
 
 And when I rear my hand, do you the like, 
 To fall it on Gonzalo. 
 
 Seb. O, but one word. ( They converse apart.) 
 
 Music. Reenter Ariel, invisible. 
 Ari. My master through his ai t foresees the danger 
 That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth, 
 (For else iiis project dies,) to keep them living. 
 
 (Sinys in Gqtizalo s ear.] 
 Wliilf yov here do snoring tie, 
 Open-ey'd Coiispirm y 
 His (inn riulhtakf: 
 If ol lift- v'i'i leerp a cure, 
 Shakf iffs/iinibfr, and beware: 
 Awake ! Awake ! 
 
 Anl. Thin lit ns both be sudden (They tenlce.] 
 
 Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the kii'g ! 
 
 Alon. \\l'y, how now. ho I awake! Wh.\ are you 
 Wherefore tills ghastly looking? [drawn? 
 
 (7„n. Whafs the maiter? 
 
 Seb Whiles we stood here securing uiur repose 
 Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing 
 Like bulls, or ralher lions; did it not wake you 
 It struck niine car most terribly. 
 
 Alan. I heard nothing. 
 
8 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a iiionslers ear; 
 To make an earthquake ! sure it was the roar 
 Of a whole herd of lions. 
 
 Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? 
 
 Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, 1 heHrd a iinmniing, 
 And that a strange one too, vvhieli did awake me : 
 I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd ; as mine eyes opeiid, 
 
 saw their weapons drawn : — there was a noise, 
 'hat's verity : best stand upon our guard ; 
 >r t!iat we quit this place : let's draw our weapons. 
 
 Alon. Lead off' this ground ; and let's make further 
 
 or my poor son. [search 
 
 Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! 
 
 or he is, sure, i' the island. 
 
 Alon. Lead awaj-. 
 
 Ari. Prospero, my lord, shall know wliat I have 
 
 done : (Aside.) 
 
 So, king, go safely' on to seek thy son. [E.xeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another jyart of the Island. 
 Enter Caliban, luith a burden of -wood. 
 A noisf of thunder heard. 
 Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up 
 From bogs, fens, flats, on Prnsper fail, and make him 
 Uy inchmeal a disease! His spirits hear nie. 
 And yet 1 needs must curse. But tiiey'il nor pinch, 
 Friglit me with urciiin sliows, pitch me i' the mire. 
 Nor lead me, like a firebrand,in the dark 
 Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but 
 For every triHe are they set upon me : 
 Sometime like apes, tiiat moe and chatter at me, 
 .And alter, bite me; then like hedge hogs, which 
 Lie tumbling in m> barefoot way, and mount 
 Their pricks at my foot fall ; sometijiie am I 
 All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, 
 Do hiss me into madness: — Lo! now ! lol 
 
 Enter Trinculo. 
 Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me. 
 For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall tlat; 
 Perchance, he will not mind uie. 
 
 Trin. Here's neitiier bnsli nor shrub, to bear off 
 any weather at all, and anolln-i storm brewing; I 
 hear it sing i' the wind: youd' .same black cloud, 
 yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard that 
 would shed his liquor. II' it should thunder, as it did 
 before, I know not wh^re to hide my head : yond' 
 same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfids. — What 
 have we here ■? a man or a lish? Dead or alive 'i* A 
 fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish- 
 like smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John. 
 A strange fish ! Were I in England now (as once 
 I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holyday 
 fool tiiere but would give a piece ot silver: there 
 would this monster make a man ; any strange beast 
 there makes a man: when they will not give a doit 
 . relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see 
 I dead Indian. Leggd like a man ! and his fins like 
 :iriiis ! Warm, o' my troth ' I do now let loose my 
 iijrinion, hold it no longer, this is no fish, but an 
 i>l.inder, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. 
 : Thunder.) Alas ! the stoi m is come again ; my best 
 way is to creep under his gaberdine ; there is no 
 other shelter hereabout: Miseiy acquaints a man 
 widi strange bedfellows. 1 will here shroud, till 
 Ihe dregs of the storm be past. 
 (Writer Stephano, sinrjimj; a bottle in his hand. 
 Steph. I shall no more to sea, to sea, 
 
 Here shall I die ashore ; — 
 'J'his is a very scurvy tune to sing a man's funeral ; 
 Well, here's my comfort. (Drinks.) 
 
 The master, the swabber, the boatsiuain, and I, 
 
 Tlie (limner, and his mate, 
 Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, 
 
 But none of us car' d for Kate : 
 
 For she had a tongue iciih a tang. 
 
 Would cry to a sailor, Ciuhaug : 
 She lov d not the savour of tar nur of pitch, [itch : 
 Yet a tailor might scratch her ichere er she did 
 
 Then to sea, bogs, and lei her yo liui,g. 
 
 This IS a scurvy tune too : but nere's my comfort. 
 
 (Drinhs.) 
 Cal. Do not torment me : O ! 
 Ste. What's the matter'? Have we devils here? 
 Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men 
 of Lide? Ha! f have not 'scap'd drowning, to be 
 afeard now of your four legs ; for it hath been said. 
 As proper a man as ever went on four leg.s, cannot 
 make him give ground : and it shall be said so agfiin, 
 while Stephano breathes at nostrils. 
 Cal. The s|)irit torments me : O ! 
 
 Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four 
 legs ; who hath got, as I take it, an ague : Where 
 the devil should he learn our language'!* I will give 
 him some relief, if it be but for that, of I can re- 
 cover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples 
 with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever 
 trod on neat's-leather. 
 
 (Jal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee ; 
 III bring my wood home faster. 
 
 Ste. He's in his fit now ; and does not talk after 
 the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have 
 never drunk wine aloie, it will go near to remove 
 his fit: if I can recover him. and keep him tame, I 
 will not take too much for him : he shall pay for him 
 that hath him, and that soundly. 
 
 Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hart; tliou wilt 
 Anon, I know it by thy trembling ; 
 Now Prosper works upon thee. 
 
 Ste. Come on your ways ; open your mouth: here 
 is that which will give language to yoii, cat: open 
 your mouth : this will shake your shaking, I can tell 
 you, and that soundly : you cannot tell who's your 
 friend : open your chaps again. 
 
 Trin. I should know that voice : It should be — 
 But he is drowned; and these are devils : O! de- 
 fend me ! — 
 
 Ste. Four legs and two voices ; a most delicate 
 monster! His forward voice now is to speak well 
 of his friend ; his biickward voice is to utter fou! 
 speeches, and to detract. If all the wine in my 
 bottle will recover him, I will help his ague : Come, 
 — Amen! I will |ioursome in tiiy other mouth. 
 
 Trin. Stephano, — 
 
 Ste. Doth thy other mouth call meV Mercy? 
 mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will 
 leave him. i have no long spoon. 
 
 Trin. Stephano! — if thou beest StejAano, toticki 
 me, and speak to n>e ; for I am Trinculo ; — be not 
 afeard, — thy good friead Trincula. 
 
 Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll puIJ 
 thee by the lesser legs ; if any be Trincalo's legs-, 
 these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed. 
 How canist thou to be the siege of this moon-calf* 
 Can he vent 'Irinculos? 
 
 Trin. 1 took him to be killed with a thunder- 
 stroke : — But ait thou not drowned, Stephano ';■ I 
 hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm 
 overblown"/ I hid me under the dead ir.aon-calf'a 
 gaberdine, for fear of the storm : And art thou livings, 
 Stephano'? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scap'd! 
 
 Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about ; wy stomach 
 is not constant. 
 
 Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not sprite.^. 
 That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: 
 I will kneel to him. 
 
 iS'^e. How didst thou 'scape? how cam'st thou 
 hither ? swear by this Ixittle, Iww thou cam'st hither. 
 i escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors 
 heaved over-board, by this bottle ! which 1 ina'de 
 of the bark of a tree, with mine own hands since L 
 was cast a shore. 
 
 Cal. Ill swear, upon that bottle, to be thy 
 True subject; for the liquor is not earthly. 
 
 Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escap'dst. 
 
 Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck; I rnri 
 swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 
 
 Ste. Here, kiss the book : though (hou caRsJ 
 swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. 
 
 Trin. O Stei)ha!io, bast aiii i"-^>e of this? 
 
Act hi. Scene 1. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Ste. The whole butt, man : my cellar is in a rock 
 by the seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, 
 moon-cair? how does thine ague? 
 
 Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? 
 
 Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was 
 the man in the moon, when time was. 
 
 Cal. 1 ha\ e seen thee in her, and 1 do adore thee : 
 My mistress shewed me thee, thy dog, and bush. 
 
 Ste. Come, swear to that ; kiss the book : I will 
 furnish it anon with new contents : swear. 
 
 Trin. By tiiis good light, this is a very shallow 
 monster :— 1 at'eard of him ? — a very weak monster : 
 — The man i' the moon? — a most poor credulous 
 monster : NVeil drawn, monster, in good sooth. 
 
 Cal. I'll shew thee every fertile incii o' the island ; 
 And kiss thy foot : I pr'ythee, be my god. 
 
 Trill. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken 
 monster; wlien liis god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. 
 
 Cat. I'll kiss tiiy toot : I'll swear myself thy siib- 
 
 Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. [ject. 
 
 Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy- 
 headed monster: .\ most scurvy monster' 1 could 
 find in my heart to beat him, — 
 
 Ste. Come, kiss 
 
 Trin. — but that the poor monster's in drink : an 
 abominable monster ! [thee berries ; 
 
 Cal. I'll sliew thee the best springs; I'll pluck 
 I'll fish lor thee, and get thee wood enough. 
 A plague upon the tyrant that J serve ! 
 I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
 'i'hou wond'rous man. 
 
 Trin. A most ridiculous monster; to make a 
 wonder of a poor drunkard. 
 
 Cal. I pr'ythee. let me bring thee where crabs grow; 
 And I, with my long nails, will dig thee pignuts ; 
 Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how 
 to snare the nimble marmozet ; I'll bring thee 
 To clust'riijg tilberds, and sometimes I'll get thee 
 Young sea-mells from the rock. Wilt thou go with me' 
 
 Ste. I pr'ythee now, lead the way, without any 
 more talking. — Trincnlo, the king and all our com- 
 pany else being drowned, we will inherit here. — 
 Here ; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill 
 him by and by again. 
 
 Cal. Fareivell, master ; fareivell, farewell. 
 
 {Si7igs drunkenly.) 
 
 Trin. A howling monster; a drunken monster, 
 
 Cal. No more clams Til make for fish ; 
 Nor fetch in firing 
 At requiring, 
 Nor scrape trenchering , nor wash dish; 
 'Ban, 'Ban, Ca — Caliban, 
 Has a new master — Get a new man. 
 Freedom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom ! freedom, 
 hey day, freedom ! 
 
 Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Before Prospero's Cell. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log. 
 Fer. There be some sports are painful ; but their 
 
 labour 
 Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness 
 Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters 
 Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be 
 .\s heavy to me, as 'tis odious ; but 
 The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead. 
 And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is 
 Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ; 
 .'\nd he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove 
 Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 
 Upon a sore injnnction : my sweet mistress 
 VVeeps, when sue sees me work ; and says, snch 
 Had ne'er like executor. I forget: [baseness 
 
 But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours; 
 Most busy less, when I do it. 
 
 Enter MIK.4ND.V ; aiid Prospero at a distance. 
 
 Mira Alas, now! pray you. 
 
 Work not so hard : I would, the lightning had 
 
 Bnrnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile ! 
 Pray, set it down, and rest you ; when this bums, 
 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father 
 Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yourself; 
 He's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Fer. O most dear mistress. 
 
 The sun will set, before I shall discharge 
 What I must strive to do. 
 
 Mira. If you'll sit down, 
 
 I'll bear your logs the while ■ Pray give me that; 
 I'll carry it to the pile. 
 
 Fer. No, precious creature : 
 
 I had rather crack my sinews, break my back 
 Than you should such dishonour undergo. 
 While I sit lazy by. ^ 
 
 Mira. It would become me 
 
 As well as it does you : and I should do it 
 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it. 
 And yours against. 
 
 Pro. Poor worm ! thou art infected , 
 
 This visitation shews it. 
 
 Mira. You look wearily, [me 
 
 Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with 
 When you are by at night. I do beseech you, 
 (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) 
 VVhat is your name ? 
 
 Mira. Miranda : — O my father, 
 
 I have broke your best to say so I 
 
 Fer. Admir'd Miranda. 
 
 Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth 
 What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 
 I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a time 
 The harmony of tlieir tongues hath into bondage 
 Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues 
 Have I lik'd several women: never any 
 With so full soul, but some defect in her 
 Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd. 
 And put it to the foil : but you, O you, 
 So perfect, and so jjeerless, are created 
 Of every creature's best. 
 
 Mira. I do not know 
 
 One of my sex ; no woman's face remember. 
 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I .seen 
 More that I may call men, than you, good friend, 
 And mv dear father : how features are abroad, 
 I am skill-less of; bnt, by my modesty, 
 (The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish 
 Any companion in the world bnt yon ; 
 Nor can imagination form a shape. 
 Besides yourself, to like of- but I prattle 
 Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
 Therein forget. 
 
 Fer. I am, in my condilion, 
 
 A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; 
 (I would, not so!) and would no more endure 
 'I'his wooden slavery, than I wouM siilfer 
 The flesh-fly blow my mouth. — Hear my soul speak: 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 My heart fly to your service ; there resides. 
 To make me sjave to it; and, for your sake, 
 Am I this patient logman. 
 
 Mira. Do you love me ? 
 
 Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound. 
 And crown what I profess with kind event. 
 If I speak true ; if hollowly, invert 
 VVHiat best is boded me, to mischief! 1, 
 Beyond all limit of what else i' the world. 
 Do love, prize, honour you. 
 
 Mira. I am a f'jol. 
 
 To weep at what I am glad of. 
 
 Pro. Fair encounter 
 
 Of two most rare affections ! Hea\ ens rain grace 
 On that which breeds between them ! 
 
 Fiir. Wherefore weep you * 
 
 Mira. At mine unwortliiness, that dare not oiler 
 ^Vhat I desire to give; and much less fake, 
 What I shall die to want: bnt this is tiifliug-; 
 And all the more it seeks to hide itself. 
 The bigger bulk itshews. Hence, bashful runciDg) 
 And prompt me, plain and holy im.oceuce 
 
10 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 I am your wiie, if yoii will mai-ry ine , 
 If not, I'll die your iu;ii(l : to bf your i'ellow 
 Von m;>y deny uie ; but 111 be your servant, 
 VV^hetlier you will or no. 
 
 Fer. My mistress, dearest. 
 
 And 1 thus humble ever. 
 
 Mira. My husband then ? 
 
 Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
 As bondage e'er of Ireedoni : here's my hand. 
 
 Mira. And mine, with my heart iut : And now 
 farewell. 
 Till half au hour hence. 
 
 Fer. A thousand ! thousand ! 
 
 \Exennt Fer. and Mir. 
 
 Pro. So glad rtf this as they, 1 caimot be. 
 Who are swrpris'd with all ; but my rejoicing 
 At nothing can be more. ['11 to my book ; 
 For yet, ere supper tiu:e, must I perlbrm 
 Much business api)ertainiiig. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Another part of the Island. 
 Enter Steph.vno and Trinculo ; Calib.\n fol- 
 i loivlwj. with a bottle. 
 
 Ste. Tell not me : — when the butt is out, we will 
 drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, 
 and biiard 'eni : Serv.mt-monster, drink to me. 
 
 Trill. Servant tnonster';' the folly of this island ! 
 They say, there's but five upon this isle : vve are 
 three of them; if tlie other two be brained like us, 
 the slate tnlters. 
 
 Ste. Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee; 
 thy eyes are almost set in thy head. 
 
 Trin. Wliere should they be set else? he were a 
 bra\e monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 
 
 Ste. My man-monsttr hc-.th drowned his tongue 
 in sark : for my part, the sea rannut drown me : I 
 suam, eie i could recover the shore, five-andthirty 
 leagues, otf and on, by this light, 'i'hou shalt be triy 
 lieutenant, monster, or my standard. [standard. 
 
 Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no 
 
 Ste. We'll not run, monsieur monster. 
 
 Trin. Nor go neither: but you'll lie, like dogs; 
 and yet say nothing neither. 
 
 Ste. iVlooncalf, speak once in thy life, if thou 
 berst a good moon-calf. 
 
 Cal. How (lots thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe : 
 I'll nut serve him, he is not valiant. 
 
 Trin. Thou liest, most ign<ir;int monster; I am 
 in case to.justle a constable. Why. thou deboshed 
 fish thou, was there e\er a man a coward that hath 
 drunk so much sack as I to-day ? Wilt thou tell a 
 monstrous lie, being but half a fish, and half a 
 monster ? 
 
 Cal. Lo, how he mocks me ! wilt thou let him, 
 my lord ? 
 
 Trin. Lord, quoth he! — that a monster should 
 be such a natural ! 
 
 Cal. Lo, lo, again ! bite hiui to death, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head ; 
 if you prove a mutineer, the next tree — The poor 
 monster's my subject, and he stiaW not sutler in- 
 dignity. 
 
 Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd 
 to hearken once aKain the suit I made thee? 
 
 Ste. Many vvill 1 : kneel and repeat it; I will 
 stand, and so shall Trinculo. 
 
 Enter Ariel, invisible. 
 
 Cal. As I told thee 
 Before, I am subjrct to a tyrant ; 
 A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath 
 Cheated me of this island. 
 
 Ari. Thou liest. 
 
 Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou ! 
 r would my valiant master would destroy thee : 
 i do not lie. 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his 
 tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your 
 
 Trin. VVhy, 1 said nothing. [teeth. 
 
 Ste. Mum then, and no more. — {To Caliban.) 
 Proceed. 
 
 Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle . 
 From me he f;ot it. If thy greatness vvill 
 Revenge it on liiui — for, 1 know, thou dar'st; 
 But this thing dare not. 
 
 Ste. Thai's most certain. 
 
 Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it, and 111 Serve thet. 
 
 Ste. How now shall this be compassed? Cans! 
 thou bring me lo the party ? 
 
 Cal. Yea, yea, my lord ; I'll yield him thee asleep, 
 Wliere thou may'st knock a nail in his head. 
 
 Ari. Tliou liest, thou canst not. [patch! — 
 
 Cal. What a pied ninny's this ? Thou scurvy 
 I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows. 
 And take his bottle horn him . when that's gone. 
 He shall diink nought but brine; for I'll not shew 
 Where the quick freshes are. [hini 
 
 Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger : inter- 
 ru t the monster one word further, and, by this 
 hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a 
 stock-fish of thee. 
 
 Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing: I'll go 
 furthrr oiV. 
 
 Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied ? 
 
 Ari. Thou liest. 
 
 Ste. Do I so? take thou that. {Strikes him.) As 
 yon I'ke this, give me the lie another time 
 
 Trin. I did not give the lie : — Out o' your wits, 
 
 and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle ! this can 
 
 sack, and drinking do. — A murrain on jour monster, 
 and the devil take your fingers! 
 
 Cal. Ha, ha. ha ! 
 
 iS'^t^. Now, forward with your tale. Pr'ythee 
 stand further ofi". 
 
 Cal. Beat him enough : after a little time, 
 I'll beat him too. 
 
 Ste. Stand further. — Come, proceed. 
 
 Cal. Why, as I lold thee, 'tis a custom with him 
 r the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain him, 
 Having first seiz'd his books; or with a leg 
 Batter his skull, or paunch him willi a stiike. 
 Or cut his wezand «i;h thy knife : reinember, 
 First to possess his bcsoks ; for without theiu 
 He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 
 One spirit to command : they all do hate hiiii. 
 As rootedly as I : burn but his books; 
 He has brave utensils, (for so lie callN tiii-ni,) 
 Which, wnen he has a house, he'll deck wilhal 
 And that most deeply to consider, is 
 'I'he beauty of his daiiglitei; he niriis< It 
 Calls her a nouj^areil : I ne'er saw woman 
 But only Sycoiax my dam, and slie ; 
 But she as far surpasseth Sycorax, 
 As greatest does least. 
 
 Ste. Is it so biTive a lass? 
 
 Crt.l. Ay, lord ; she will become thy bed, I warrant, 
 And biingthee forth brave brood. 
 
 Ste. Monster, I will kill this man : his daugliter 
 aiifl I will he king and queen ; (save oiir graces ! ( 
 and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys : — Dost 
 thou like the plot, Trinculo? 
 
 Trin. Excellent. 
 
 Ste. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee : 
 but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. 
 
 Cal. Within this half hour vvill he be asleep ; 
 Wilt thou destroy h ni then ? 
 
 Ste. Ay, on mine honour. 
 
 Ari. This vvill I tell my master. 
 
 Cal. Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of pleasi.re ; 
 Let us be jocund : will you troll the c;rtch 
 You taught me but while-ere ? 
 
 Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, 
 any reason : Come on, Trinculo, let us .sing. [Sinij.s.] 
 
 Flout 'em. and sk out 'em; aiid shout em. and 
 Thowjht is free. [Jtout em; 
 
 Cal. That's not the tune. 
 
 {Artel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe.) 
 Ste. Wliat is this same ? 
 
 Trin. Tins is the tune of our catch, played by the 
 picture of INo-body. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 11 
 
 Sfe. If thou beest a man, shew thyself in thy 
 likeness : if thou heest a devil, take it as thou list. 
 
 'I'rin. O, forgive nie my sins! 
 
 Sfe. He that dies, pays all debts : I defy thee : — 
 Merr.y upon us ! 
 
 C'ai. Art thou afeard? 
 
 Sfe. No, monster, not I. 
 
 C\//. Be not afeard ; the, isle is full of noises, 
 Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. 
 Si)inetimes a thousand twangling instruments 
 Will hum about mine ears; and sometiuits voices, 
 That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, 
 Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, 
 'I'lie clouds, methoiight, would open, and shew riches 
 Heady to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd, 
 I cry'd to dream again. 
 
 Sfe. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, 
 where I shall have my music for nothing. 
 
 Cnl. When Prospero is destroyed. 
 
 Ste. Tl>at shall be by and by : I remember the 
 story. [and after, do our work. 
 
 Triti. The sound is going away : let's ibllow it, 
 
 Sfe. Lead, monster; we'll follow. — I would, 1 
 could see this taborer : he lays it on. 
 
 Trin. Wilt come '? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeiuit. 
 
 Scene III. — Another part of the Island. 
 
 Enter Alonso. Sebastian. Antonio, Gonzalo, 
 Adrian, Francisco, and others. 
 
 Gon. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; 
 Rly old bones ache : here's a maze trod, indeed. 
 Through forth-rights and meanders ! By your pa- 
 I needs must rest lue. [tience, 
 
 Aion. Old lord, 1 cannot blame thee, 
 
 W«o am myself attach'd with weariness. 
 To the dulling of my spirits : sit down, and rest. 
 Eien here I will put oif my hope, and keep it 
 No loiigrr tor my flatterer : he is drown'd. 
 Whom thus we stray to find ; and the sea mocks 
 Our fVdsfriite search on hind. Well, let him go. 
 
 Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope. 
 
 {Aside to Sebastian.) 
 Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
 That you resolv'd to eti'ect. 
 
 Seb. The next advantage 
 
 Will we take thoroughly. 
 
 Ant. Let it be to-night; 
 
 For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they 
 Will not, nor canur.t, use such vigilance. 
 As vi\\f\\ they lire lii-sh. 
 
 Seb. I say, to night : no more. 
 
 Solemn nnd stranye music; «»</ Prospero above, 
 
 invisible Enter several stranue Shapes, brin'j- 
 
 in'j in a banquet ; they dance about it tv/thrie?itle 
 
 actions oj' salutation ; and, invdin<j the Kinr), 
 
 §fc. to eat, they depart. 
 
 Alon. W'uat liarmoiiy is this? my good friends, 
 
 Gon. Marvellous sweet music I [hark ! 
 
 Alon. (jive us kind keepers, heavens! What 
 were these ? 
 
 Seb. A living drollery : Now I will believe. 
 That there are unicorns; that in Arabia 
 There is one tree, the phoenix' throne ; one plicenix 
 At this hour reigning there. 
 
 Ant. I'll believe both : 
 
 And what does else want credit, come to me, 
 And III be sworn 'tis true : Travellers ne'er did lie. 
 Though I'ools at home condemn them. 
 
 Gon. If in Naples 
 
 I slioulfl report this now, would they believe me '!* 
 If I should say, I saw such islanders. 
 For, ceites, these are people of the island,) 
 
 ho, though they are ol nioustrous shape, yet, note. 
 Their manneis are more gentle-kind, tiian of 
 Our human generation you shall find 
 Many, nay, almost any. 
 
 Pro Honest lord. 
 
 Thou hast said well;, for some of you there present. 
 Are worse than de\ils. {Aside.) 
 
 Alon. I cannot too much muse. 
 
 ^' 
 
 Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, ex- 
 
 iressing 
 (Although they want tiie use of tongue) a kind 
 Of excellent dumb discourse. 
 
 Pro. Praise in departing. {Aside.) 
 
 Fran. They va.nish'd strangely. 
 
 Seb. No matter, sine e 
 
 They have left their viands behind; for we have 
 
 stomachs. — 
 Will't please you taste of what is here '? 
 
 Alon. Not I. 
 
 Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear. Wlieu we 
 were boys. 
 Who would believe that there were inountiiineers, 
 Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had iiauging 
 
 at them 
 Wallets of flesh ? or that tliere were such men, 
 Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we 
 Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us [find 
 Good warrant of. 
 
 Alon. I will stand to, and feed, 
 
 Altliough my last : no matter, since 1 feel 
 The best is past: — Brother, my lord the duke. 
 Stand to, and do as we. 
 Thunder andliyhtniny. Enter Ariel like a harpy 
 
 clajis his ivinys upon the table, andtvith a quaint 
 
 device, the banquet vaniithes. 
 
 Ari. Vou are three men of sin. whom destiny 
 (That hath to instrument tins lower worid. 
 And what is in't,) the never-surieited s^a 
 H^itluaused tobelcli up; and on this ishind 
 Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men 
 Bi'ing most unfit to live. I have made you mad; 
 
 {Seeiny Alon. Seb- §'c. draw their swords.) 
 And even witiisucli like valo.ir, men hint; and drown 
 'i'heir proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows 
 Are iiiimsters of fate ; tiie elements, 
 Ol w hoiu your swords are teiiiper'd, may as well 
 Wound the loud winds, or witli bemock d-at stabs 
 Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
 One dowle that's in my plume ; my It-llow-niinisters 
 Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt. 
 Your swoids are now too massy for your strengths, 
 And will not be uplifted : but, remember, 
 (For that s my business to you,) that you three 
 From Milan <lid supplant good Prospero, 
 Expos'd unto the sea, which hath recpiit it 
 Him, and his ionocent child : liir which foul deed 
 The powers, delaying, nut forgetting, have 
 lucens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures 
 Against your peace : thei-, of thy son, Aloiiso, 
 Tliey have bereft ; and do pronounce by me, 
 Ling'riiig perdition (wurse than any death 
 Can be at once,) shall step by step attend [from 
 
 ^ ou and your ways; -.vhose vvraths to guard you 
 (VVhich here, in this most desolnte isle, else falls 
 Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow. 
 And a clear lite ensuing. 
 He vanishes in thunder : then, to soft music, miter 
 
 the Shapes ayain, and dance with mops and 
 
 mowes and carry out the table. [hast thou 
 
 Pro. [Aside.) Hra\ely the figure of this harpy 
 Pertbrmd, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : 
 Of my instruction hast tiiou notiiing bated. 
 In what fhiui hadst to say : so, with good life. 
 And ohservatiiin strange, my meaner ministers 
 Their several kinds have done: my high ch arms woi S., 
 And these, mine enemies, are all knit up 
 In their distractiiuis : they now are in my power; 
 And in these tits I leave tli'Mu, whilst I \ isit 
 Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is d'-own'd,. 
 And his and my lov ed darling. 
 
 lExit Pi 0. from above. 
 
 Gon. r the name of .soinethiiig holy, sir, why stand 
 In this strange stare ? [you 
 
 Alon. O, it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 
 Methought, the billows spoke, and tuld me of it; 
 The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder. 
 That deep and dieadfiil organ pipe, pronounc'd 
 The name of Prosper : it did bass my tre.spa.ss. 
 
12 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act rv. 
 
 Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded ; and 
 '11 seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded. 
 And with him there lie mudded. [Exit. 
 
 Seb. But one fiend at a time, 
 
 ril fight their legions o'er. 
 
 Ant. I'll be thy second. 
 
 I Exeunt Seb. and Ant. 
 
 Gon. All three of them are desperate ; their great 
 Like poison given to work a great time alter, [guilt. 
 Now 'gins to bite the spirits : — I do beseech you. 
 That are of suppler joints, follow thetu swiftly, 
 And hinder them from what this ecstasy 
 May now pro\oke them to. 
 jlofy. Follow, I pray you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT IV. 
 Scene I. — Before Prospero's Cell. 
 
 Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, «?)(/ Miranda. 
 
 Pro. If I have too austerely pu.iisli'd you, 
 Vour ccimpi-nsation makes amends ; for I 
 Have given you here a tiiread of uiine own life. 
 Or tii^t, for wliicl) I live ; wiioui once again 
 i tendf r to tliy hand : all thy vexations 
 Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
 Hast strangely stood the test : here, afore heaven, 
 I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
 Do not smile at me, that I boast her off, 
 For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise. 
 And make it halt behind her. 
 
 Fer. 1 do believe it, 
 
 .Against an oracle. 
 
 Pro. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition 
 Worthily pmclias'd, take my daugliter : but 
 If thou dost break her virgin knot before 
 All sanctiuioni.ius ceremonies may 
 Witii lull and holy rite be miuister'd, 
 No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall 
 To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
 Sour ey"d disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
 The uuiou (if your bed with weeds so loathly, 
 Tliat you shall hate it both : therefore, take heed. 
 As Hymen's lamps shall light you. 
 
 Fer. As I hope 
 
 For q iiet days, fair issue, and long life, 
 Witn such love as 'tis now; the murkiest den, 
 Tlie most opportime place, the sfrong'st suggestion 
 Our worser Genius can, shall never melt 
 Mme iioiiour into lust; to take away 
 The ('due of that day's celebration. 
 When 1 shall tliink, or Plioebus' steeds are founder'd. 
 Or night kept chaiu'd below. 
 
 Pro. Fairly spoke : 
 
 Sit, tuen. and talk with her, she is cliine own. — 
 VViiat, Ariel ; my industrious servant, Ariel ! 
 
 Enter Ariel. 
 
 An. What would my potent master'? here I am. 
 
 Pro. Tlioii and tliy meaner fellows your last service 
 Did wortiiily perform ; and I must use you 
 ill sucii anotlier trick : go, bring tlie rabble. 
 O'er whom I gave thee power, here, to this place : 
 Incite tlieni to quick motion ; for I nnist 
 Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple 
 Some vanity of mine art ; it is my promise. 
 And they expect it from me. 
 
 Ari. Presently? 
 
 Pro. Ay, with a twink. 
 
 Art. Before you can say, Come, and go, 
 And breathe twice ; and cry, so, so ; 
 Each one, tripping ou Ins toe, 
 VV ill be iiere with mop and mowe : 
 f)o you love me, master'? no. 
 
 Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach. 
 Till thou dost hear me call. 
 
 Art. Well, I conceive. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. I^ook, thou be true : do not give dalliance 
 Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw 
 li o the hie i" the blood : be more abstemious. 
 Or else, good night, your vow ! 
 
 Fer. ^ I warrant you, sir , 
 
 The vvhife-cold virgin snow upon my heart 
 Abates the ardour of my liver. 
 
 Pro. Weli.- 
 
 Now come, my Ariel ; bring a corollary, 
 i'ather than want a spirit : appear, and jiertly. 
 No tongue ; all eyes ; be silent. {Soft t/uKic.) 
 
 A Masque. Enter Iris 
 
 Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy ricn leas 
 Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease ; 
 Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, 
 And flat meads, thatch'd with stover, them to keep; 
 'J'hy banks with peonied and lilied brims. 
 Which spongy April at thy best betriins, [groves. 
 To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and the broom 
 Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor ioves. 
 Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ; 
 And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-liard. 
 Where thou thyself dost air: the queen o' the sky. 
 Whose watery arch, and messenger, am I, 
 Bids thee leav e these ; and with her sov ereign grace 
 Here on tliis grass-plot, in this very place. 
 To come and sport : her peacocks tly amain 
 Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain 
 
 Enter Ceres 
 
 C«r_Haill manyculour'd messenger, that ne'et 
 Dost disobey the wile of Jupiter; 
 Who, with thy salfyon wings, upon my flowers 
 Diffiisest honey-drops, refreshing showers; 
 And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown 
 iMy bosky acres, and my unshrubb'd down, 
 llich scarf to my proud earth ; why hath lliy queen 
 Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green'? 
 
 Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate; 
 And some doniition freely to estate 
 On the bless'd lovers. 
 
 Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow. 
 
 If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know. 
 Do now attend the queen'? since they did plot 
 1'he means, that dusky Dis my daughter got. 
 Her and her blind hoy's scandal'd company 
 I have forsworn. 
 
 Iris. Of lier society 
 
 Be not afraid ; I met her deity 
 Cutting the clouds towards Paphos ; and her son 
 Dove-drawn with her; here thought they to have done 
 Some wanton chai m upon tiiis man and maid. 
 Whose vows are that no bed ride shall be paid 
 Till Hymen's torch be lighted ; but in vain ; 
 Mars's hot minion is return'd again ; 
 Her wasjiish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
 Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, 
 And be a boy right out. 
 
 Cer. Highest queen of state. 
 
 Great Juno comes ; I know her by her gait. 
 
 Enter Juno. 
 Jan. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me. 
 To bless tliis twain, that they may | rosperous be 
 And honoured in their issue. 
 
 SONG. 
 Ju7i. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing , 
 Ijong continuance, and increasing, 
 Hourly joys be still upon you I 
 Ju7io sings her blessings on you. 
 Cer. Efirtlis increase, and foizon plenty; 
 Bands and garners never empty ; 
 Vines, with dust ring bunches groivlng , 
 Plants, tvith goodly burden bowing ; 
 Spring come to yon, at the farthest, 
 In the very end of harvest I 
 Scarcity, and ivant. shall shun you ; 
 Ceres' blessing so is on you. 
 Fer. Tliis is a most majestic vision, and 
 Harmonious charmingly: May I be bold 
 To think these spirits'? 
 
 Pro. Spirits, which by mine art 
 
 I have from their confines call'd to enact 
 I\Iy present fancies. 
 
SCENK 1. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 13 
 
 Fe.r. JLiet me live here ever ; 
 
 So rare a wondcr'd father, and a wife. 
 Make this place Paradise. (Juno and Ceres tvhisptr, 
 and send Iris on employment.) 
 
 Pro. S\vt-<'t now, silence ; 
 
 /lino and Ceres whisper seriously ; 
 'l]liere"s something else to do; hush, and be mute, 
 Or else our spell is inarr'd. [brooks. 
 
 Iris. Von nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wandVlng 
 Witii your sedg'd crowns, and ever harmless looks, 
 Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 
 Answer your summons : Juno does counnanJ : 
 Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
 A contract oi true love ; be not too late. 
 
 Enter certain Nymphs. 
 Yon sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary. 
 Come hither from the furrow, and be merry; 
 Make holyday : your rye-straw hats put on. 
 And these fiesh nyuiphs encounter every one 
 111 country footing. 
 
 Enter certain Reapers, propei'hj habited: they 
 join u'ith the Ny)?iphs in a graceful dance ; 
 totaards the end ivhereof Prus]>eru starts sud- 
 denly,- and speaks ; after lohicli, to a. stranye, 
 kollotv. and co7if used noise, they heavihj vanish. 
 Pro. [Aside.) I liad forgot tiiat foul conspiracy 
 Of the beast Caliban, audi his confederates, 
 Against my life; the minute of their plot 
 Is almost come. — [To the Spirits.) Well done; — 
 avoid ; — no more. [passion 
 
 Fer. This is most strange : your father's in some 
 That works him strongly. 
 
 Mira. Never till this day. 
 
 Saw 1 him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. 
 Pro. You do look, my son, in a inov'd sort. 
 As if you were dismay'd : be cheerful, sir: 
 Our revels now are ended : these our actors. 
 As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
 Are melted into air, into thin air : 
 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
 The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces. 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself", 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
 And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded, 
 Lea\ e not a rack behind : we are such stuff 
 As dreams are made of, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. — Sir, 1 am vex'd ; 
 Hear with my weakness ; my old brain is troubled. 
 Be not disturb d with my inhrmity : 
 If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell, 
 And there repose ; a turn or two I'll walk, 
 'I'o still niy beating mind. 
 
 Fer. Mira. We wish you peace. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Pro. 'Come with a thought : — I thank you : — 
 Ariel, come. 
 
 Enter Ariel. 
 Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to: What's thy plea- 
 Pro. Spirit, [sure ? 
 
 We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 
 
 Ari. Ay, my commander; when 1 presented Ceres, 
 [ thought to have told thee of it ; but I fear'd. 
 Lest I mii^ht anger thee. [varlets? 
 
 Pro. Say again, where didst thou lea\e these 
 Ari. I told you, sir, they were red hot with drink- 
 So full of \alour, that they smote the air [iug ; 
 For breathing in their faces ; beat tlie ground 
 For kissing of their feet: yet always bending 
 Toward tlieir project : then I beat my fabor. 
 At which, like unback'd colts, they pritk'd their ears, 
 Advanc'd tlii-ir eye lids, lifted up their noses. 
 As they smelt music ; so I charm'd their ears. 
 That, calf-like, they my lowing fullow'd. through 
 'I'ooth'd biiers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and 
 
 thorns. 
 Which enter'd their frail shins : at last I left them 
 '' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell. 
 There dancing up to the chins, that tjie foul lake 
 O'erstuiik their feet 
 
 Pro. This was well done, my bjitl , 
 
 Thy shape invisible retain thou still : 
 The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hitlier. 
 For stale to catch these thieves. 
 
 Ari. I go, I go. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose n;Uuie 
 Nurture can never stick ; on whom my (laiiis. 
 Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost , 
 And as, with age, his body uglier grows, 
 So his mind cankers : I will plague them all, 
 Re-enter ARiEL,loaden with ijlisterinrj a/)/>arel,§'c. 
 liven to roaring : — Come, hang tiiem on tins line. 
 
 [Prosjtero and Ariel remain invisible.) 
 
 Enter Calib\n, Stephano, <7;?f/TRiNCLi.o, all wet 
 
 Cat. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole 
 may not 
 Hear a foot fall : we now are near his cell. 
 
 Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a 
 harmless fairy, has done little better than played the 
 Jack with us. 
 
 Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss ; at 
 which my nose is in great indignation. 
 
 Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I 
 should take a displeasure against you ; look you,— 
 
 Trin. Thou weit but a lost monster. 
 
 Cat. Good, my lord, give me thy favour still ; 
 Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to [softly. 
 Shall hoodwink this mischance : therefore, speak 
 All's hnsh'd as midnight yet. 
 
 Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool, — 
 
 Ste. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in 
 that, monster, but an infinite loss. 
 
 Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : yet 
 this is your harmless fairy, monster. 
 
 Ste. I will fetch oft" my bottle, though I be o'er 
 ears for my labour. 
 
 Cal. Pr'ytliee, my king, be quiet: seest thou here, 
 This is the mouth o'the cell : no noise, and enter: 
 Do that good mischief, which may make this islainl 
 'i'hine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
 For aye thy tbot-licker. 
 
 Ste. Give me thy hand : I do begin to have bloody 
 thoughts. 
 
 Trin. O king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy 
 Stephano ! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee ! 
 
 Cal. lict it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. 
 
 Trin. O, ho, monster; we know what belongs to 
 a frippery: — O king Stephano ! 
 
 Ste. Put olf that gown, 'i'rinculu ; by this hand, 
 I'll have that gown. 
 
 Trin. T hy grace shall have it. [mean, 
 
 Cal. The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you 
 To doat thus on such luggage ? Let's along. 
 And do the murder first: if he awake, 
 From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches ; 
 Make us strange stuff. 
 
 Ste. Be you quiet, monster. — Mistress line, is not 
 this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: 
 now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and pro>e 
 a bald jerkin. 
 
 Trin. Do, do: we steal byline and level, and' 
 like your grace. 
 
 Ste. 1 thank thee for that jest ; here's a garmrn 
 for't, wit shall not go unrewarded, ivhile I am kin^ 
 of this country : Steal by line and level, is an excel- 
 lent pass of pate ; there's anothei garment for't. 
 
 Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon your 
 fingers, and away with the rest. 
 
 Cal. I will have none on't : we shall lose our time. 
 And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes 
 With foreheads villanous low. 
 
 Ste. Monster, lay-to your fingers; help to bear 
 this away, wliere my hogshead of wine is, or I'll 
 turn you out of my kingdom : go to, carry this. 
 
 Trin. And this. 
 
 Ste. Ay, and this. 
 A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits in 
 
 shape of hounds, and hunt them about: Prca- 
 
 pero and Ariel setfiny them on. 
 
14 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Pro. HeJ^ Mountain, hey I 
 
 Ari. Silver ! there it goes, Silver ! 
 
 Pro. Fiiri/. Fur!/ ! there. Ttjrnnt, there I hark, 
 liark ! [Cal. Ste. and Trin. are driven out. 
 Go, chnrge my gciblins that they grind their joints 
 With dry (^oiiviiisioiis ; shorten up their sinews 
 With aged cramps : and more pinch-spotted make 
 Than pard, or cat o' niounfain. [tliem, 
 
 Ari. Hark, they roar. 
 
 Pro. Let them he hunted snnndly. At this hour 
 [jie at my mercy all mine enemies: 
 Siiortly sliail ail my labours end, and thou 
 Shalt liave the air at freedom : fur a little. 
 Follow, and do me service. \Exeimt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 ScENK I. — Before the Cell of Prospero. 
 Enter Prospero in his magic robes ; and Ariel. 
 
 Pro. Now does my project gather to a head : 
 My cliaim.s crack not; my spirits obey ; and time 
 Goes ii(iriglit with his carriage. How's the day ? 
 
 Ari. (Jii the sixtii hour; at which time, my lord, 
 You said our work should cease. 
 
 Pro. I did say so, 
 
 Wiien first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit. 
 How fares tlie king and his ? 
 
 Ari. Confin'd together 
 
 In tile same fashion as you gave in charge ; 
 Just as vou left them, sir; all prisoners 
 In tiie lime grove, which weatlier-feiids your cell; 
 They cannot budge, till you release. The king. 
 His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted ; 
 And tne remainder mourning over them, 
 Brim lull of sonow, and dismay ; but chiefly 
 Him you term'd, sir. The yood old lord Gonzalo ; 
 His tears run down his bcaid, like winter's drops 
 From eaves of reeds : your cliann so strongly works 
 That if you now beheld tliem, your affections Uhem, 
 Would become tender. 
 
 Pro. -Dost thou think so, spirit ? 
 
 An. .Mine would, sir, were 1 human. 
 
 Pro. And mine shall. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feelinij, 
 Of their afflictions ? and shall not niyself, 
 One of thea- kind, that relish all as sharply. 
 Passion a'* they, be kindlier mov'd than tuou art? 
 Though with tlieir high wrongs, 1 am struck to the 
 Yet, with my nobler reason'gainst my fury [quick. 
 Do I take I art : the rarer action is 
 In virtue th m in vengeance: they being penitent, 
 The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
 Not a frown further: Go, release them, Ariel ; 
 My charm.i I'll break, their senses I'll restore, 
 And they shall be themselves. 
 
 Ari. Ill fetch them , sir. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and 
 .\nd ye, that on the sands with priutless foot [groves, 
 Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him. 
 When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that 
 By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
 Wlieieof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pastime 
 Is to make midnight mushrooms ; that rejoice 
 To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid 
 (Weak masters though ye be,) I have be-dimm'd 
 The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds. 
 And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
 Set roaring war ; to the dread rattling thunder 
 Wi\\e I given fire, and rjited Jove's stout oak 
 With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory 
 Have J made shake ; and by the spurs phick'd up 
 The pine and cedar: graves", at my command, 
 Hav e waked their sleepers; oped, and let them forth 
 By my so potent art. But tuis rough magic 
 I h-re abjure: and, when I haverequird 
 Some heavenly music, (which even now I do.) 
 To work mine end upon their senses, tiiat 
 'I'his any charm is for, I'll break my staff, 
 Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, * 
 
 And deeper than did ever plummet sound, 
 
 I'll drown my book. [Solemn music.') 
 
 Re-enter Ariel : after him Alonso, icith a frantic 
 
 yesture, attended by Gonzalo ; Sebastian and 
 
 Antonio in like manner, attended by Adrian 
 
 and Francisco : they all enter the circle which 
 
 Prospero had made, and there stand charmed; 
 
 iijhick Prospero observiny, speaks. 
 A solemn air, and the best comfortei- 
 To an iitisettl. d fancy, cure thy brains. 
 Now useless, boil'd within thy skull ! 'I'here stand. 
 For you are spell-sto|)p'(l. — 
 Holy Gonzalo, honourable man. 
 Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine. 
 Fall fcllowly dro|.s. — The charm dissolves apace j 
 And as the morning steals upon the night, 
 Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
 Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
 Tlieir clearer reason. — O my good Gonzalo, 
 My true preserver, and a loyal sir 
 'I'o him thou follow'st; I vviil pay thy graces 
 Home, both in word and deed. — Most cruelly 
 Didst thou, Alonso use me and my daughter : 
 Thy brother was a furtlieier in the act; — 
 Thou'rt pinclfd for't now, Sebastian.^FlesIi and 
 You brother mine, that entcrtain'd amhitiou, [blood, 
 Expell d remorse and nature ; who, with Sebastian, 
 (Whose inward iiinches tlierefore are most strong,) 
 Would here have kill'd your king ; I do forgive thee. 
 Unnatural though thou art! — 'I heir understanding 
 Begins to swell ; and the appniachiiig tide 
 Will shortly hll the reasonable slioies, 
 That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, 
 That yet looks on me, or would know nu- : — Ariel 
 Fetch me the hat and rapier m my cell ; [Exit Ari 
 I will dis-case me, and iny.self present. 
 As I was sometime Milan : — quickly, spirit; 
 Thou shalt ere long be free. ]pero 
 
 AlUEL re-enters sinyiny, and helps to attire Pros 
 
 Ari. Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; 
 Li a coHslip's bell I lie : 
 There I couch when oicls do cry. 
 On the bat's back 1 dojiy, 
 Ajter summer, merriiy : 
 Merrily, merrily, shall I lire now, 
 Under the blossom that hanys uv the houyh 
 
 Pro. Why .that's my dainty Ariel : 1 shall miss thee j 
 But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. — 
 To the king's ship, invisible as thou art : 
 'i'here shalt thou find the mariners asleep 
 Under the hatches; the master, and the boatswain, 
 Being awake, enforce them to this place; 
 And presently, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Ari. I drink the air before ine, and return 
 Or e'er your pulse twice beat. [Exit 
 
 Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazemenf 
 Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us 
 Out of this fearful country ! 
 
 Pro. Behold, sir king. 
 
 The wronged duke of Milan, Prospero : 
 For more assurance that a living prince 
 Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; 
 And to thee, and thy company, I bid 
 A hearty welcome. 
 
 Alon. WheV thou beest he, or no, 
 
 Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, 
 As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse 
 Beats, as of flesh and blood ; and since I saw thee, 
 The afiliction of my mind amends, with which, 
 I fear, a madness held me : this must crave 
 (An if this be at all,) a most strange story. 
 Thy dukedom I resign; and do entreat [pero 
 
 Thou pardon me my wrongs ; — Bui how should Pros - 
 Be living, and be here 'I 
 
 Pro. First, noble friend. 
 
 Let me embrace thine age ; whose honour cannot 
 Be measur'd or confin'd. 
 
 Go7i. Whether this bo. 
 
 Or be not, I'll not swear 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 TFMPEST. 
 
 15 
 
 Pt-o. Yon do yet taste 
 
 Some snbtilties o' the isle, that will not let you 
 IJeliei e tliina;s certain. — Wefconie, my friends all :— 
 But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, 
 
 {Aside to Seb. and Ant.) 
 I here could pluck his highness' frown iipou yon, 
 And justify you traitors ; al this time 
 Ml tell no tales. 
 
 Seb. the devil speaks in him. [Aside.) 
 
 Pro. _ No:— 
 
 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
 Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive 
 Thy rankest faidt; ail oitiiem; and require 
 My dukedom of thee, which,perl'orce, 1 know. 
 Thou must restore. 
 
 Aion. If thou beest Prospero, 
 
 Give us particulars of thy preservation : 
 How thou hast met us here, who tiiree hours since, 
 Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost, 
 How sharp the point of this remembrance is ! 
 My dear sou Ferdinand. 
 
 Pro. I am woe for't, sir. 
 
 A/on. Irreparable is the loss ; and Patience 
 Says it is past her cure. 
 
 Pro. I rather think. 
 
 You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace 
 For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid. 
 And rest myself content. 
 
 A /on. You the like loss ? 
 
 Pro. As great to me, as late ; and, portable 
 To makn the dear loss, have I means much weaker 
 Than you may call to comfort you ; for 1 >• 
 
 Have lost my daughter. 
 
 A/o7t. A daughter ? 
 
 heavens ! that they were living both in Naples. 
 The king and queen there ! that tliey were, I wish 
 Myseifvvere mudded in that oozy bed [ter? 
 Where my son lies. When did you lose yonrdaugh- 
 
 Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords 
 At this encounter do so much admire, 
 That they devour their reason ; and scarce think* 
 Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
 Are natural breath : but, hovvso'er you have 
 Been justled from your senses, know for certain. 
 That I am Prospero, and (hat very duke 
 Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely 
 Upon ttiis shore, vvhere you were wreck'd, was landed. 
 To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; 
 For 'tis a chronicle of day by day. 
 Not a relation for a breakfast, nor 
 Befitting tuis tirst meeting. Welcome, sir ; 
 This cell's my court : here have I few attendants. 
 And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. 
 My dukedom since you have given me again, 
 
 1 will requite you with as good a thing; 
 
 At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye. 
 As much as me my dukedom. 
 
 The entrance of the Cell opens, and discovers Fer- 
 DtN.\ND aiid Miranda playing at chess. 
 
 Mir. Sweet lord, you play me false. 
 
 Fer. No, my dearest love, 
 
 [ would not for the world. 
 
 Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should 
 And I would c."!l it fair play. [wrangle. 
 
 A/on. _ If this prove 
 
 A vision of the island, one dear son 
 Shall I twice lose. 
 
 Seb. A most high miracle I 
 
 Per. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful : 
 1 have curs'd them without cause. (Fer. knee/s to A/.) 
 
 A/on. Now all the blessings 
 
 Of a glad father compass thee about ! 
 Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. 
 
 Mira. O ! wonder ! 
 
 How many goodly creatures are there here ! 
 How beauteous mankind is ! () brave new world, 
 Tiiat has such people in't ! 
 
 Pro. Tis new to Ihee. [at play ? 
 
 A/on. What is this maid, with whom thou wast 
 
 Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hoars '. 
 Is she the goddess that h^th sever'd us. 
 And brought us thus together ? 
 
 Fer. Sir, slie's mortai; 
 
 But, by immortal Providence, she's mine ; 
 1 chose her. when I could not ask my lather 
 For his advice; nor thought I had one : slie 
 Is daughter to this famous duke of .Milan, 
 Of. whom so often I have heard renown. 
 But never saw bei'ore ; of whom I liave 
 Receiv'd a second lifi», and second father 
 This lady makes him to me. 
 
 A/on. I am her's ; 
 
 But O, how oddly will it sound, that 1 
 Must ask my eliild forgiveness ! 
 
 Pro. There, sir, stop; 
 
 Let us not burden our remembrances 
 With a heaviness that's gone. 
 
 Gon. I have inly wept. 
 
 Or should have spoke ere thi.s. Look down, y^" god.s. 
 And on tliis couple drop a blessed crown ; 
 For it is you, that have clialk'd forth the way 
 \V Inch brought us hither ! 
 
 A/on. I .say. Amen, (Jnuzala! 
 
 Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue 
 Should become kings of Naples'.' O, lejoice 
 Beyond a common joy ; and set it down 
 With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage 
 Did Clanbel her husband find at Tunis ; 
 And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife, 
 VVhere he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom, 
 In a poor isle : and all of us, ourselves. 
 When no man was his own 
 
 A/on. Give me your hands : [To Fer. and Mir.] 
 Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart, 
 That doth not wish you joy ! 
 
 Gon. ' Re't so ! Amen! 
 
 Re-enter Ariel, ivith the blaster and Boaisivain 
 amazcd/y jo//owin(j. 
 
 look, sir, look, sir; here are more of us ! 
 
 1 prophesied, if a g;illows were on land, 
 
 This fellow could n.,X drown.— Now, blasphemy, 
 That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore ? 
 Hast thou no uioi.th by land':" Wh;(t is the news? 
 
 Boats. The best news is, tiiat we have siifely found 
 Our king and company ; the nest; 0':r siiip, — 
 Which, buttbree glasses since, we gave out split. 
 Is tight, and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when 
 We first put out to sea. 
 
 Art. _ Sii 
 
 Have I done since I wer 
 
 Pro. My tricksy spirit .' 
 
 ^/tiji.Theseare not natural events; they strengtheii; 
 From strau}<e to stranger: — Ssv, how came you hi; 
 
 Bunts. If I did fiiink, sir, I wtie well awake, I'ther ? 
 I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep. 
 And (how we know not,) all clapp'd under hatches. 
 Where, but even now,witli strange niid several noises, 
 Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chain.s. 
 And more diversity of sounds, all horrible. 
 We were awak'd ; straightway, at liberty : 
 Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
 Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master 
 Capering to eye her : on a trice, so ple:^se you. 
 Even in a dre'ain, were we divided from them. 
 And were brought moping hither. 
 
 Ari. VVast well done ? | 
 
 Pro. Bi'avely, my diligence. Thoushalt , {Aside) 
 be free. 
 
 A/on. Tills is as strange a maze as e'er men nod : 
 And there is in this business more than nature 
 Was ever conduct of: some oracle 
 Must rectify our knowledge. 
 
 Pro. Sir, my liege. 
 
 Do not infest your mind with beating on 
 'J'he strangeness of this business ; at pick'd leisure, 
 VVhicli shall be shoitly, single I'il resjlve you 
 (Which to yon shall seem probable,) of every 
 These happeud accidents till when, be cheerfui 
 
 Sir, all tliis service > 
 snt. ^{Aside.] 
 
 My tricksy spirit! 5 
 
16 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Act V 
 
 And Ihink of each thing well. — Come hither, spirit : 
 Set Calihan and his companions free : {Aside.) 
 
 Untie the spell. [Exit ArieL] How fares niy gracious 
 There are yet missing oi' your company [sir? 
 
 Some few odd lads, that you remember not. 
 
 Reenter Ariel drivirKj in Caliban, Stephano, 
 and Trinculo, in their stolen apparel. 
 
 Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no 
 man take care for himself; for all is but fortune : — 
 Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio ! 
 
 Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my 
 head, here's a goodly sight. 
 
 Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed ! 
 How fine my master is 1 I am afraid 
 He will chastise me. 
 
 Seb. Ha, ha ! 
 
 What things are (iiese, my lord Antonio? 
 Will money buy them ? 
 
 Ant. Very like; one of them 
 Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
 
 Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords. 
 Then say, il they be true: — This mis-shapen knave, 
 His mother was a witch ; and one so strong 
 That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs. 
 And deal in her command, without her power: 
 These three have robb'd me : and this demi-devil 
 (For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them 
 To take my life : two of these fellows you 
 Must know, and own; this thing oi darkness I 
 Acknowledye mine. 
 
 Cal. I sliall be pinch'd to death. 
 
 Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? 
 
 Seb. He is drunk now : where had he wine? [they 
 
 Alo7i. And Trinculo is reeling ripe. Where should 
 Find this grand liquor, that hath gilded them ? — 
 How ciim'st thou in this pickle '' 
 
 Triit. 1 have been in such a pickle, since I saw you 
 l.'ist, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones : I 
 »aall not fear fly-blowing. 
 
 Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ? [cramp. 
 
 Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but a 
 
 Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah ? 
 
 Ste. I shoidd have been a sore one then. 
 
 Alon. 'i'his is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on. 
 {Pointing to Caliban.) 
 
 Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners. 
 As in his shape : — Go, sirrah, to my cell; 
 Take with you your companions; as you look 
 I'o have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
 
 Q-iL Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, 
 
 And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass 
 Was I, to take this drunkard for a god. 
 And worship this dull fool '■ 
 
 Pro. Go to ; away ! [found it 
 
 Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where yot; 
 
 *e6. Or stole it rather. [Exeunt Cal. Ste.and Trin. 
 
 Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train 
 To my poor cell : where you shall take your rest 
 For this one night ; which (part of it,) I'll waste 
 With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make i 
 Go quick away : the story of my life. 
 And the particular accidents, gone by, 
 Since 1 came to this isle : and in the morn, 
 I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 
 Where I nave hope to see the nuptial 
 Of these our dear-beloved solenmized; 
 And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
 Every third thought shall be' my grave. 
 
 Alon. 1 long 
 
 To hear the story of your life, which must 
 Take the ear strangely. 
 
 Pro. I'll deliver all ; 
 
 And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales. 
 And sail so expeditious, that sliall catch 
 Your royal fleet I'ar ofl'. — My Ariel ; — cliick, — 
 That is thy charge ; then to the elements 
 Be free, and fare thou well ; — {aside.) Please ynii 
 draw near. [Exeunt 
 
 EPILOGUE.— .S^o/tew by Prospero. 
 
 Now my charms are all o'erthrown, 
 And what strength I have's mine own ; 
 Which is most iaint : now, 'tis true, 
 I must be here confin'd by you. 
 Or sent to Naples. Let me not. 
 Since I ha\e my dukedom got. 
 And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell 
 In this bare island, by your spell; 
 But release me from my bands. 
 With the help of yiiur good hands. 
 Gentle breath of yours my sails 
 Must fill, or else my project fails. 
 Which was (o [ilease : now I want 
 Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; 
 And my ending is despair. 
 Unless I be reliev'd by prayer; 
 Which pierces so, that it assaults 
 Mercy itself, and frees all faults. 
 As you from crimes would pardon'd ty, 
 Let your indulgence set me free. 
 
5 '5 
 
 z'. r. 
 
 a1 
 
 •A 
 
 
 I'l! '! iiiiiii!;'!' ■ 
 
In this piav there is a strange miKlure of knowlfd^e and ignorance, of cnre and negligence. The versificatinii in 
 ten CACrllenl, the allusions are learnpd and just; but the author conveys his hemes by sea from one inland towu 
 to ariotlier in llie same country; he piftces the eniperor at Milan, and sends liis yonne men to attend him, hut icver 
 ■nentions him more; he makes Proteus, alter an interview with Silvia, say he h;is only seen her picture: and, if we 
 may credit the old rojjies. he has, by mislaking places, k-f his scenery inextricable. The reason of all this confusioa 
 seems to lie, that he took liis story from a novel, which he sometimes followed, and sometimes forsook ; sometimes remem- 
 bered, and sometimes lorgot. 
 
 That this i)lay is nghtlv attributed to Shakspeare, I have little doubt. If it he taken from him, to wheifl shall it 
 ,(e ffiveu? This question niay be a.sked of all the disputed plays, except Tilus Andronicui; and it will be found more 
 ( redible, that Shakspeare might sometimes sink below his highest Jliglits, than that any other should rise up to his 
 (oweai. Juhnsoii. 
 
 rUKE OF BIIL\N, rather to Silvia. 
 PHOTEUs'^^' } Gentlemen of Verona. 
 ANTONJO', Father to Proteus. 
 THURIO, a. foolish Rival to Valentine. 
 EGLAiVlOUH, Aijent for Silnia, in her escape. 
 SPEED, a clowttish Sfrvtrnt /i> Valentine. 
 L.iUNCE, Servant to Proteus. 
 
 PANTHINO, Servant to Antonio. 
 
 Host, V here Jniia lodges in Milan. 
 
 Out /airs. 
 
 3 ULI.\ . a Ladt/ of Verona, beloved by Proteus. 
 
 S^L.^■IA. the liiiie's Danrihter. beloved by Valentine, 
 
 LUCETTA, Waiting-tvu7nan to Julia. 
 
 Servants, Musicians, 
 
 Scene, — Sornetimes in Verona; sometimes in Milan; and on the Frontiers of Mantua... 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — An open Place in Verona, 
 Enter Valentine and Proteus. 
 
 Val. Cease to persuade, my loving- Proteus; 
 Honie-keepins; youth have ever homely wits : 
 Wer't not, aftection ciiains thy tender days 
 To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, 
 I rather would entreat thy company, 
 To see the wonders of tiie world abroad, 
 Than living- dolly sliiggardiz'd at home, 
 Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. 
 But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein. 
 Even as I would, when I to love be{;in. 
 
 Pro, Wilt thou begone ? Sweet Valentine, adieu ! 
 Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest 
 Some rare tiote- worthy object in thy travel ; 
 Wish me partaker in thy happiness. 
 When thou dost meet good hap ; and, in thy danger. 
 If ever danger do environ thee. 
 Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, 
 For I will be thy bead"s-man, Valentine. 
 
 Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. 
 
 Pro. Upon some book I love, I'li pray for thee. 
 
 Val. That's on some shallow story of deep love. 
 How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. 
 
 Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love ; 
 For he was more than over shoes in love. 
 
 Val. 'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love. 
 And yet you never swam the Hellespont. 
 
 Pro. Over the hoots ? nay, give me not the boots. 
 
 Val. No, I'll not, for it boots thee not. 
 
 Pro, What? 
 
 Val, Tube 
 
 In love, where scorn is bought with groans; coy 
 
 looks. 
 With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth. 
 With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights : 
 If haply won, perhaps, a hajjless ga'n ; 
 If lost, why then a grievous labour won; 
 However, but a folly bought with wit. 
 Or else a wit by fully vanquished. 
 
 Pro. So, by your circumstance, yon call me fool. 
 
 Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll 
 prove. 
 
 Pro. 'Tis love yon cavil at ; I am not love. 
 
 Val. Love is your master, for he masters you : 
 And he, that is so yoked by a fool, 
 Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. 
 
 Pro. Yet writers say, As in the sweetest bud 
 The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
 Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
 
 Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 liven so by love the young and tender wit 
 
 Is tiirnd to folly; blasting in the bnd, 
 Ijosing his verdure even in the prime, 
 And all the fair effects of future hopes. 
 But v\'herefore waste I lime to counsel thee, 
 'I'hat art a votary to fond desire ? 
 Once more adieu : my father at the road 
 Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. 
 
 Pro. And thitiier will I bring tliee, Valentine. 
 
 Val. Sweet Proteus, no ; no«v let us take our leave . 
 At Milan, let me hear from thee by letters, 
 Of thy success in love, and what news else 
 Betideth here, in absence of thy friend ; 
 And I likewise will visit thee with mine. 
 
 Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan .' 
 
 Val. As much to you at home ! and so, farewell. 
 
 l^Exit Valentine. 
 
 Pro, He after honour htmts, I atter love. 
 He leaves his friends, to dignify them more ; 
 I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. 
 Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me; 
 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time. 
 War with good counsel, set the world at nought; 
 Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. Sir Proteus, save you : saw you my master? 
 
 Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for 
 Mi Ian. 
 
 Speed. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already; 
 And I have play'd the sheep, in losing him. 
 
 Pro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often .itray. 
 An if the shepherd be awhile away. 
 
 Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd 
 then, and I a sheep ? 
 
 Pro. I do. [I wake or sleep. 
 
 Speed, Why then my horns are hishorns. whether 
 
 Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep 
 
 Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 
 
 Pro. True ; and thy master a shepherd. 
 
 Speed. Nay, that I ran deny by a circumstance. 
 
 Pro. It shall go hard, but Fll prove it by another 
 
 Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and notrthe 
 sheep the shepherd ; but 1 seek my master, and nvy. 
 master seeks not me : therefore, I am no sheep. 
 
 Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, 
 the shepherd for food follow s not the sheep ; thou tor 
 wages followest thy master, thy master for wages 
 follows not thee : therefore, thou art a sheep. 
 
 Speed. Such another proof will make me cry.bna. 
 
 Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my idker to 
 Julia? 
 
 Speed. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter 
 to her, a laced mutton ; and she, a laced mutton, 
 gave me. a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. 
 
 Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 of muttons. [best slick her. 
 
 Speed. If the ground be overchar«i'd, you were 
 
 P-ro. Nay, iu tliat you are astriiy ; 'twere best 
 poinifl you. [ lor curiyiiiR yotii' letter. 
 
 SjK-ed. Nay, sir, less than a pound sli.iii serve nie 
 
 Pro. You mistake; I uitan tlie pound, a iiinloid. 
 
 Speed. From a pound Ut a pm? fold it over and 
 
 over. [ lover. 
 
 Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your 
 
 Pro. But what said she ? did she nod ''. 
 
 Speed. I. [Speed nods. 
 
 Pro. Nod, I; why, that's noddy. 
 
 Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod : and 
 you ask tne, if she did nod ; and I say, I. 
 
 Pro. And that set together, is — noddy. 
 
 Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it 
 together, take it for your pains. [letter. 
 
 Pro. No, no, you siiall have it for bearing the 
 
 Speed. \Vell, 1 perceive, 1 must be fam to bear 
 witn you. 
 
 Pro. Why, sir, how do yoii bear with me ? 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, the letter vetyordeily; hav- 
 ing fiiilliinii; but the word, noddy, for my pains. 
 
 Pro. Beshrew me, but you liave a qiuck wit. 
 
 Speed. And yet it cannot overtake ynur slow purse. 
 
 Pro. Come, come, open tiie matter in briel : wiiat 
 said siie ';■ 
 
 Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and the 
 matlt-r, may be botii at ouce deluered. [she? 
 
 Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pams: what said 
 
 Speed. Tiuly, sir, f liiink you'll haidly win her. 
 
 Pro. Why? Could'st thou perceive so much from 
 her? 
 
 Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from 
 her; no, not so much as a ducat ioi dcliveiing your 
 lett r : and bein^ so hard to me that biouglit your 
 mind, I fear, she'll prove as hard to you in tf llmg 
 lier m;u(l. Give her no token but stones; for she's as 
 hard us sfee !. 
 
 Pro. W"liat, said she nothing ? 
 
 Speed. No, not so mucii as — take this for thy 
 
 pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, }ou have 
 
 testern'd me; in requital wuereol, hencftbilh carry 
 
 •your letters yourself: and so, sir, I 11 commend you 
 
 to my master. [wreck ; 
 
 Pro. Go, go, be gme, to save your ship from 
 Wliich canuol perish, having th^e aboard, 
 Bring deslined to a drier deatn on siiore : — ■ 
 I must go send some better messenger: 
 I fear, i!iy Julia would not deign tny lines, 
 Receiving them trom such a worthless post. 
 
 [E.tetmt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Garden of Julia's House. 
 Enter Julia ant/ Lucetta. 
 
 Jid. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, 
 WouI'dst ihou then counsel me to fill in love? 
 
 Luc. Ay, madatn, so you stuuible not unheed<!"'*y. 
 
 Jul. Of all ttie fair resort of gentlemen, 
 Thiit every day with pjrle encounter me, 
 In thy opinion, which is wortiiiest loie? 
 
 Luc. Please yon, repeat their names, I'll shew 
 Aci'iirding to my shallow sim[ile skill. [my mind 
 
 Ji(i Wuat tomk'st tlinu of the fair sir Eglammir? 
 
 Ljtc. As of a kninht well-spoken, neat and fine ; 
 But, were I you, he n.-ver should be mine. 
 
 Jul. What think'st thou of llie rich Mercatio? 
 
 Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, s>), so. 
 
 Jul. Wiiat tiiiuk'st tiion of tne gentie Proteus? 
 
 Luc. Lord, lord.' to see what i'l'lly reigns iu us! 
 
 Jul. How now ! what means this passion at his 
 ^inie ? 
 
 7/ar. Pardon, dear madam ; 'tis a passing shame, 
 That, I, unworthy body as I aui, 
 Siioild censure tlius ou lovely gentlemen. 
 
 Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? 
 
 Lac. Tnen tluis, of many good I think him 
 
 Jul. Yourreasjii? [best. 
 
 Lite. I have no other but a woman's reason ; 
 1 think him so, because I think him so. 
 
 Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on him? 
 
 Luc. Ay, if you tliought your love not cast away. 
 
 Jul. Wliy, he of all rhe rest hath never mov'd me. 
 
 Luc. Yet he of all tiie rest, I think, best loves ye. 
 
 Jul. His little speaking shews his love but small. 
 
 Luc. Fire, that is chisest kept, burns most of all. 
 
 Jul. 'I'hey do not love, that do not show their loxe. 
 
 Luc. O, lliey lo\e I^^ast, that let men know their 
 
 Jul. I would, I knew his mind. [love. 
 
 Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. 
 
 Jul. To Julia, — Say, from whom ? 
 
 Luc. That the contents will shew, 
 
 Jul. Say. say ; who gave it thee ? 
 
 Luc. Sir Valentine's page ; and sent, I think, from 
 Proteus : 
 He would have given it yon, but I, being in the way. 
 Did in your name receive it ; pardon the fault, I pray. 
 
 Jul. Now, by my medesty, a goodly broker! 
 Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? 
 To w hisper and conspire against my youth ? 
 Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth. 
 And you an officer fit for the place. 
 There, take the paper, see it be return'd ; 
 Or else return no more into my sight. [hate. 
 
 Luc. To plead for love, deserves more fee than 
 
 Jul Will you be gone ? 
 
 Luc. 'I'hat you may ruminate. ]_Exit. 
 
 Jul. And yet, I would, I had o'erlook'd the letter. 
 It were a shame to call her back again. 
 And pray lier to a fault i'or which 1 chid her. 
 What foul is she, that knows 1 am a maid. 
 And would not force the letter to my view ! 
 Since mail Is, in modesty, say No, to that 
 Which tlify would have the protl'erer construe. Ay 
 Fie, fie ! how vvayward is this foolish love, 
 'J'hat, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse. 
 And presently, all humble, kiss the rod ! 
 How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 
 VV lieu vvillingly I vvould have had her here ! 
 How angrily 1 taught my brow to frown. 
 When inward joy eufoic'd my heart to smile! 
 My penance is, to call Lucetta back, 
 And ask remission for my folly past: — 
 What ho ! Lucetta ! 
 
 Re- enter Lucett>. 
 
 Lttc. What would youi ladyship? 
 
 Jul. Is linear dinner-time ? 
 
 Luc. I would it were ; 
 
 That you might kill your stomach on your meat. 
 And not upon your maid. 
 
 Jtil. What is't you took up 
 
 So gingerly? 
 
 Luc. Nothing. 
 
 Jul. Why didst thou stoop, then? 
 
 Luc. To take a paper up, that I let fall. 
 
 Jul. And is that paper nothing? 
 
 Luc. Nothing concerning me. 
 
 Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. 
 
 Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns. 
 Unless it have a false interpreter. 
 
 Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. 
 
 Luc. 'I'hat I might sing it, madam, to a tune : 
 iJive me a note : your ladyship can set. 
 
 Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible : 
 Best sing it to the tune of Light o' lore. 
 
 Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. 
 
 Jul. Heavy ? belike, it hath some burden then. 
 
 Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you 
 
 Jul. And why not you? (sing it. 
 
 Luc. I cannot reach so high. 
 
 Jul. Let's see your song : — How now, minion ? 
 
 Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: 
 And vet, methinks. I do not hke this tune. 
 
 Jul. You do not? 
 
 Luc. No, madam, it is too sharp. 
 
 Jul. You, niinioii, are too saucy. 
 
 Luc. Nay, now you are too flat, 
 And mar the concord with too harsh a descant : 
 I'here wanteth but a n.ean to fill your song. 
 
Act it. Scrne 1. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 19 
 
 Jill. The mean is rlrovvn'd with your iitiruly base. 
 
 Lnc. Iiiileeil, I bit) tiie basi- for Pioleiis. 
 
 Jul. This bribble sliall not hfiicfforth trouble me. 
 Heie IS a coil witli (irotestation I — [Tears the ietier.) 
 Go, ^et yon Rone ; and let the papers be : 
 Von wonbl be tiujiennj;; them, to anger me. 
 
 Luc. Sue makes it strange ; but she would be 
 best pleas'd 
 To be so anger'd with another letter. [E.dl. 
 
 Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! 
 O hateful iiands, to tear such losintj wt)rd.s.' 
 
 injurious wasps, to I'eed on such sweet honey, 
 Ami l^ill the bees, that yield it, with vour stings ! 
 Ill kiss eacii several paper for amends. 
 
 And, liere is writ — kind Julia; — unkind Julia! 
 
 As ni revenge of thy ingratitude, _ 
 
 1 throw thy name against the bruising stones, 
 
 'I'lauipling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
 
 Look, here is writ — love-wounded Proteus • — 
 
 Pour wounded name ! my bosom, as a bed, 
 
 Sliall lod^e thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd ; 
 
 And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
 
 Bi»t twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down? 
 
 He calm, good wind, blow not a word away, 
 
 'Jilt I hav. found each letter in the letter. 
 
 Except mine own name ; that some whirlwind bear 
 
 Uiito a ragged, fearful, hanging rock. 
 
 And thiow It tlif nee into the raging sea I 
 
 L 1, hfie in one line is his name twice writ, — 
 
 Piwr forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 
 Tu the sitett Julia ; that 1 II tear away ; 
 
 Ami yrt 1 will not. sith so prettily 
 
 He couples it to his coiiiplainiiig names ; 
 
 'J'hus will 1 fold them one upon another; 
 
 Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. 
 
 Re enter Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father 
 
 Jid. VVi-ll, let us go. [stays. 
 
 liuc. W ii-it. shall these papers lie like tell-tales 
 heie ? 
 
 Jul. U you respect them, best to take them up. 
 
 Luc. Nay, I \\a>; tiken up lor laying them down . 
 Vi t iit-rf they shrill not lie, tor catching cold. 
 
 Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them. 
 
 Lhc. Ay, madaui, you may say what s.glits you 
 I S' ■• things too. altliOMvii yo i j idge 1 wink. [see ; 
 
 Jul. Guiiie, come will't please you go? [Exeunt. 
 
 Sc. III. — The same. A Room in Antonio's house. 
 Enter Antonio and Panthino. 
 
 Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that) 
 VVii'iewilh my brother held you in the cloister? 
 
 Pan. ' Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. 
 
 Aiit. Why, what of him ? 
 
 Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship 
 
 \V ould suffer hiui to spend his youth in' home ; 
 While other men, of slender reputation. 
 Put forth their sons, to seek preferment out : 
 Souie, to the wars, to try their fortune there ; 
 Some, to discover islands far away ; 
 S >nie, to the studious universities. 
 For any, or for all these exercises, 
 He said, that Proteus, your son. was meet; 
 And did request me, to importune you, 
 T<i let him S|)end his time no more at home. 
 Which would be great impeaclMnt-nt to his age, 
 III haviiiu known no travel in his youth. 
 
 Ant. Nor need'st thou nntch importune nie to tliat, 
 Wliereon this month I have been hammering. 
 I have consider'd wnU his loss of time ; 
 And how he cannot be a perft-ct man. 
 Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world: 
 Experience is by industry atchiev'd, 
 And perfected by the swift couise of time : 
 T/ieii, tell me, whitlier were I best to send him? 
 
 Pan. I think, your lordsliip is not ignorant. 
 How his companion, youthlui Valeiiti e, 
 Attends toe emperor ui his royal court. 
 
 Aid. I know it well. [thither 
 
 Pan. ' Twere good, 1 think, your lordship sent him 
 There shall he piactist tilts and tournaments. 
 Hear sweet rliscourse, converse with noblemen ; 
 And be in eye of every exercise, 
 Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. 
 
 Ant. I like thy counsel: well hast thou advis'd 
 And, that tlion inay'st perceive how well 1 like it. 
 The execution of it shall make known ; 
 Even w ith the sjieediest execution 
 I will despatch him to the emperor's court. 
 
 Pan. '\'o morrow, may it please you, Don AI- 
 With other gentlemen of good esteem, Iplionso, 
 
 Are journeying to salute the emperor, 
 And to commend their service to his will. 
 
 Ant. Good company ; with them shall Proteus go ; 
 And, in good time, — now will we break with him. 
 
 Enter Proieus. 
 Pro. Sweet love ! sweet l.nes, sweet life ! 
 Here is her hand, the agent ot her heart; 
 Here is her oath lor love, her honours pawn: 
 O, that our fathers would applaud our loves, 
 'J'o seal our happiness with llieir consents? 
 
 heavenly Julia ! [there? 
 Ant. How now ? what letter are you reading 
 Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a woid or 
 
 Of commendation sent I'rom Valentine, [two 
 
 Deliver'd by a friend that came fiom him. 
 
 Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. 
 
 Pro. 'I'liere is no news, my lord : buttuat he writes 
 How happily he lives, how well-belov'd. 
 And dai y graced by the emperor; 
 Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. 
 
 Ant. And how stand you alfected to his wish? 
 
 Pro. As one relying on your lordsliip's will, 
 And not depending on his Iriendly vvish. 
 
 Anf. My will is something sorted with his wisli : 
 Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed ; 
 For what I will, 1 will, anci tliere an end. 
 i am re.solv'd, that tlio:i shalt spend some time 
 With 'V^alentinus in tlie emperors court ; 
 What maintenance he from liis fiends receives. 
 Like exhibition tlioii shalt have from me. 
 To-moirow be in readiness to go: 
 Excuse it not, for i am peremptory. 
 
 Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided : 
 Please you, delibt-rate a day or two. thee • 
 
 Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent after 
 No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go. — 
 Come on, Paiitliino ; yon sliall be t-mploy'd 
 To hasten on his expedition. [^Exeiint Ant. and Pan. 
 
 Pro. 'I'hus have 1 siiunn'd the tire, for (ear oi 
 burning ; 
 And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd . 
 
 1 fear'd to shew my father Julia's letter. 
 Lest he should take exceptions to my love • 
 .And with the vantage of mine own excuse 
 Hath he excepted most against my love. 
 
 O, how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day; 
 
 Which now shews all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 
 
 Re enter Panthino. 
 
 Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ; 
 He IS m haste; therefore, I ray you, go. 
 
 Pro. Why, this it is I my heart accords thereto; 
 And yet a thousand times it answers no. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT H. 
 
 Scene I. — Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 Speed Sr. your glove. 
 
 Val. Not mine ; my gloves are on. [but one 
 
 Speed. W'liy tiieii tins may be yours, for this is 
 Ynl. Ha ! let me see : ay, gi< •■ it me, it's mine : — 
 
 S\VK t ornament that decks a lliiug diviii ! 
 
 Ail Silvia ! Siivi.i ' 
 
20 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF YERONA. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Speed. Madam Silvia! mailam Silvia.' 
 
 Vol. How now, siirnh ? 
 
 Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. 
 
 Yal. Why, sir, wiio bade you call lier? 
 Speed. \ our \vorshi|), sir; or else I mistook. 
 
 Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. [slow. 
 
 Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too 
 
 VaL Go to, sir; tell nie, do you know madam 
 Speed. She liiat your worship lo\es? [Silvia? 
 
 Va/. Why, how know you that I am in love ? 
 Speed. Marry, by these special marks: — First, 
 you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your 
 arms like a male-content; to relish a love song, like 
 a Kobin-red-breast ; to walk alone, like one that 
 hath the pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that 
 Lad lost his A, B, C ; to weep, like a young wench 
 that had buried her giandam ; to fast, like one that 
 takes diet: to watch, like one that fears robbing; 
 to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. Yuu 
 were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; 
 when you walked, to walk like one of the lions ; 
 when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; 
 when you looked sadly, it was for want of money : 
 and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
 that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you 
 my master. 
 
 Val. Are all these things perceived in me ? 
 
 Speed. They are all perceived without you. 
 
 Vol. Without me '! they cannot. 
 
 Speed. Without you ; nay, that's certain, for, 
 witliout you were 80 simple, none else would; but 
 you are so without these follies, that these follies are 
 within you, and shine through you like the water in 
 an urinal ; that not an eye, that .sees you, but is a 
 phvsician to comment on your malady. 
 
 Vol. But teli me, dost thou know my lady Sylvia ? 
 
 Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at 
 Slipper ' 
 
 VaL Hast thou observed that? even she I mean. 
 
 Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. 
 
 Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, 
 ii«)d yet knowest her not '! 
 
 Speed. Is she not hard-favoured, sir? 
 
 Val. Not so I'air, boy, as well Ikvoured. 
 
 Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. 
 
 Val. VVliat dost tiiou know'' [favoured. 
 
 Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well 
 
 Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her 
 favour infinite. 
 
 Speed. That's because the one is painted, and 
 the other out of all count. 
 
 Val. How painted? and how out of count? 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, so painted to make her fair, 
 that no man counts of her beauty. [beauty. 
 
 Val. Hovy esieeine.st thou me? I account of her 
 
 Speed.You never s<ivv her since she was deformed. 
 
 Val. How long hath she been deformed'.' 
 
 Speed. Ever since you loved her. 
 
 Val. I have hived her ever since I saw her; and 
 (till I see her beautiful. 
 
 Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. 
 
 Val. Why? 
 
 Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had 
 mine eyes; or your own had the lights they were 
 wont to have when you chid at sir Proteus ior going 
 imgartered ! 
 
 Val. What should I see then? 
 
 Speed. Your own present folly, ami her passing 
 deformity: for he, being in love, could not see to 
 garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see 
 to put on your hose. 
 
 Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last 
 morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. 
 
 Speed. True, sir, I was in love with my bed : I 
 thank you, you swinged me for my love, which 
 makes nie the bolder to chid" you for yours. 
 
 Val. In conclusion, I stand ati'ected to her. 
 
 Speed. I would you were set ; so your affection 
 would cease. [line.stoone »\\p loves. 
 
 Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some 
 
 Speed. And have you ? 
 Val. I have. 
 
 Speed. Are they not lamely writ • 
 Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them ; — 
 Peace, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 Speed. O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet ! 
 now will he interpret to her. {Aside.) [morrows. 
 
 Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good- 
 
 Speed. O, 'give you good even ! here's a million 
 of manners. (Aside.) 
 
 Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thou- 
 sand, [it him. [Aside.) 
 
 Speed. He should give her int-^rest, and she gives 
 
 Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter. 
 Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; 
 Which 1 was much iinwillitig to proceed in, 
 But for my duly to your ladyship. [done. 
 
 Sil. I tliank you, gentle servant : 'tis very clerkly 
 
 Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off* 
 For, being ignorant to whom it goes, 
 I writat random, very doubtfully. [pains? 
 
 Sil. Perchance you tliink too much of so much 
 
 Val. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write. 
 Please you command, a thousand times as much : 
 And yet, — ' 
 
 Sil. A pretty period ! Well, I gness the sequel; 
 And yet I will not name it: — and yet I care not; — 
 And yet take this again : — and yet 1 thank you; 
 Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. 
 
 Speed. And yet you will; and yet another yet. 
 [Aside.) _ [like it? 
 
 Val. What means your ladyship? do you not 
 
 6'//. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ : 
 But since unwillingly, take them again ; 
 Nay, take them. 
 
 Val. Madam, they are for you. 
 
 Sil. Ay, ay: you writ them, sir, at my request; 
 But 1 will none of them ; they are for you: 
 I would have had them writ more movingly. 
 
 VaL Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. 
 
 Sil. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over: 
 And if it please you, so; if not, wliy, so. 
 
 Val. If it please me, madam! what then? 
 
 Sil. W hy, if it please you, take it for your labour 
 And so good morrow, servant. [^Exit Sdvia. 
 
 Speed. O. jest unseen, in.'crutable, invisible. 
 As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a 
 steeple ! [suitor. 
 
 My master sues to her; and she hatli taught her 
 He being her |)iipil, to become her tutor. 
 O excellent device ! was there ever heard a better? 
 That my master, being scribe, to liiaiself should 
 write the letter? 
 
 Val. How now, sir? what, are you reasoning with 
 yourself? 
 
 Speed. Nay, 1 was rhyming; 'tis you that have 
 the reason. 
 
 VaL I'odo what? 
 
 Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. 
 
 Val. To whom ? [ figure. 
 
 Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a 
 
 Val. What figure? 
 
 Speed. By a letter, I should say. 
 
 Val. W hy, she hath not writ to me ? 
 
 Speed. What needs she, when she hath made yon 
 write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? 
 
 Val. No, believe me 
 
 Speed. No belie \ing you indeed, sir; but did you 
 perceive her earnest? 
 
 Val. She gave me none, except an angi"y word. 
 
 Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. 
 
 Val. That's' the letter I writ to her friend. 
 
 Speed. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and 
 there an end. 
 
 Val. I would, it were no worse. 
 
 Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: 
 For lift en you havejcrd lo her; and she, in modesty. 
 Or else for ivant of idle time, could not again reply; 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 21 
 
 r f('crri»(j else some messenger, that mirjht her 
 mind discover. 
 Herself hath taught her love himself to ivrite unto 
 
 her lover. — 
 All this I speak in print, for in print I found it — 
 VV'liv tniise you, sir? 'Us dinuer time. 
 Vnl. I iiave dined. 
 
 Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; thongli the cameleon 
 i^ove can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished 
 by my \ ictiials, and would fain have meat; O. be not 
 like your mistress; be moved, be nw\ed. ^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 1 1. — Verona. A Room in Julia's House. 
 
 Elder Proteus and ivux. 
 Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. 
 Jill. I must, where is no remedy. 
 Pro. When possibly 1 can, I will return. 
 Jid. If you turn not, you will return the sooner: 
 K.eep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
 
 {Giving a ring.) 
 Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here, take 
 
 yoii this. 
 .hd. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. 
 Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy; 
 And when that hour oVr slips me in the day, 
 \V herein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, 
 I'he next ensuing hour some loul mischance 
 'i'orment me for my love's forgetfuliiess! 
 .My lather stays my comi;ig ; answer not ; 
 'I'lic tide is now; nay, not the tide of tears; 
 That tide will stay me lunger than I should ; 
 
 [Exit Julia. 
 Julia, farewell. — What! gone without a word ? 
 Ay, so true love should A> : it cannot speak ; 
 For truth Jiath better deeds, than words, to grace it. 
 Enter Panthino. 
 Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. 
 Pro^ Go; I come, 1 come; — 
 Alas J this parting strikes pour iovers dumb. 
 
 lExeunt. 
 
 Sci.NE Hf. — The sam*:. A Street. 
 Enter Launce, leading a dog. 
 Ltiun. Ndy, 'twill be this hour ere I have done 
 vveepiii:;; all the kind of the Launces have this very 
 tliiilt: I have received my proportion, like the pro- 
 <iigi >us sou, and am going with Sir Proteus to the 
 liuijenafs court I think. Crab my dog be the 
 soui'e>t-iiaturfd dog that lives; my mother weeping, 
 iny f it.ier wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, 
 our c.it wringing her hands, ami all our house in a 
 gieat perplexity, yet did not this critel-hearted cur 
 shed one tear; he is a stone, a very pebble-stone, 
 and ins no more pity in him than a dog; a Jew would 
 have wept, txj have seen our parting; why, my grandani 
 having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my 
 parting. Nay, I'll show yon tiie manner of it : This 
 shoe is my father; — no, tliis left shoe is my father; — 
 no, no, this left shoe is my mother; — nay, that cannot 
 be so neither; — yes, it is so, it is so'; it hath the 
 worser sole: this shoe, with the hole in it, is my 
 tnotlier, and this my father; a vengeance on'ti there 
 'tis; now, sir, this stalf is my sister ; for, look you, 
 she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand ; 
 this hat is Nan, our maid; I am the dog: — no, the 
 *log is himself, and I am the dog, — O, the dog is me, 
 
 «nd t a lyself; ay, so, so. Now come 1 to my 
 
 lather ; Father, your blessing ; now should not the 
 «hoe speak a word lor weeping; now should I kiss 
 my father; well, he weeps on: — now come I to my 
 inotlier, (O, that slie could speak now!) like a good 
 woman; — well,! kiss her; — why, there 'tis; here's 
 my mottier's breath up and down; now come I to my 
 sister; mark the moan she makes: now, the dog all 
 this while sheds nut a tear, iior .speaks a word; but 
 tee how I lay tiie dust with my tears. 
 
 Enter PANTiriNo. 
 Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy ma.ster is 
 •hipped and thou art to post alter with oars. What's 
 
 the matter? why weep'.st thou, man? Away, ass, 
 you will lose the tide, if yun tarry any longer. 
 
 Laun. It is no matter if the ly'd were lost; for it 
 is the unkindest ty d that ever any man tvti. 
 
 Pan. What's the unkindest tide ? 
 
 Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog. 
 
 Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the Hood : and 
 in losing the Hood, lose thy voyage; and, in losing 
 thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy master, 
 lose tliy service; and, in losing thy service, — Why 
 dost tliou stop my mouth? 
 
 Liun. For fear thou should'st lose thy tongue. 
 
 Pan. W here should I lose my tongue '/ 
 
 Jjfiun. In thy tale. 
 
 Pan. In thy tail? 
 
 Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the 
 master, and the service? The tide! — Wiiy, man, 
 if the river were dry. I am able to fill it with my 
 tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat 
 with my sighs. [thee. 
 
 Pan. Come, come away, man ; I was sent to call 
 
 Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. w 
 
 Pan. Wilt thou go ? 
 
 Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter V.4LENTINE, SiLVL4, Thurio, and Speed. 
 
 Sil. Servant — 
 
 Va/. Mistress? 
 
 Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you 
 
 Val. Ay, boy, it's for love. 
 
 Speed. Not of you. 
 
 Val. Of my mistress then. 
 
 Speed. 'I'were good, you knocked him. 
 
 6V/. Servant, you are sad. 
 
 Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 
 
 Thu. Seeifl you that you are not? 
 
 Val. Haply I ilo. 
 
 Thu. So do counterfeits. 
 
 Vat. So do you. 
 
 Thti. What seem I, that I am not .' 
 
 Va/. Wi.se. 
 
 Thu. What instance of the contiary? 
 
 Val. Your folly. 
 
 Thu. .4nd how quote you my folly? 
 
 Val. [ (piote it ill your jeiki :. 
 
 Thu. My jerkin is a douhhr. 
 
 Val. Well, then, I'll dmible yo, r lolly. 
 
 Thu. How? fcoloiir? 
 
 Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change 
 
 Val. Givp hi;ii leave, niadum; I.e is a kind of 
 cameleon. 
 
 Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, 
 than lue in your air. 
 
 Va/. You have said, sir. 
 
 Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 
 
 Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you 
 begin. 
 
 Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly 
 shot otf. 
 
 Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. 
 
 Si/. Who is that, servant? 
 
 Va/. Yourself, sweet lady; for yon gave the fire 
 sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's 
 looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your 
 company. 
 
 Thu.' Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I 
 shall make your wit bankrupt 
 
 Va/. I know It well, sir; you have an exchequer 
 of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your 
 followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, thai 
 they live by your bare words. [father. 
 
 Sil. No iiioi e, gentlemen, no more ; here comes my 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset 
 *Sir Valentine, your lather's in good health- 
 What say yon to a letter from your friends 
 Of much good news"' 
 
22 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Val. My lord, I will be thankful 
 
 To !iny l)appy niesseris;er from thence. 
 
 Duke. Know yon Don Antonio, your countryman? 
 
 Val. Ay, my jjood lord, I know tlie gentleman 
 To be of worth, and worthy estimation. 
 And not without desert so well reputed. 
 
 Duke. Hatii he not a son ? 
 
 Val. Ay, my good lord ; a son, tliat well deserves 
 Tiie honour and regard of such a father. 
 
 Duke. You know him well ' 
 
 Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy 
 We liave convers'd, and spent our hours together: 
 And though myself have been an idle truant, 
 Oiiiittinif the sweet benefit of time. 
 To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection; 
 Vet hath Sir Proteus, lor that's his name. 
 Made use and fair advantage of his days; 
 His years but young, but his experience old; 
 His (lead unmellow d, but his jiulguient ripe; 
 And, in a word, (for far behind his worth 
 Come ail the praises that I now bestow,) 
 He is complete in leature, and in mind. 
 With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 
 
 Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good, 
 He is as worthy for an euipress' love. 
 As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
 Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me, 
 With commendation Irom great potentates; 
 And here he n\eaMS to spend his time a-whi'e : 
 I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you. 
 
 Val. Shoidd I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. 
 
 Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth ; 
 Silvia, I speak to you; and you, sirThurio: — 
 For Valentine, I need not 'cite him to it : 
 I'll send him hither to you presently. {Exit Duke. 
 
 Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship. 
 Had come along with me, but that his mistress 
 Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystaj looks. 
 
 Sil. Belike, that now she hath enlrauchisd them 
 Upon some other pawn for fealty. Lstill. 
 
 Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners 
 
 Sil. Nay, then he should be blind ; and, being 
 blind. 
 How conlil he see his way to seek out you ? 
 
 Val. Why, lady, love hutli twenty pair of eyes. 
 
 Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. 
 
 Val. To see such lo\ ers, Thurio, as yourself; 
 Upon a horaely object love can wink. 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Sil. Have done, have done ; here comes tlie gen- 
 tleman, [seech you, 
 
 Val. Welcome, dear Proteus ! — Mistress, I be- 
 Contirm his welcome with some special favour. 
 
 Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither. 
 If this be he, yon oft have wish'd to hear from. 
 
 Val. Mistress, it is : sweet lady, entertain him 
 To be my fellow-servant to your hidyship. 
 
 Sil. 'i'oo low a mistress lor so high a servant. 
 
 Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant 
 To ha\ft a look of such a worthy mistress. 
 
 Val. Leave olf discourse ol disability : — 
 Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. 
 
 Pro. My duty will 1 boast of, nothing el.se. 
 
 iS/7. And duty never yet did want his meed ; 
 Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. 
 
 Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. 
 
 Sil. That you are welcome ":' 
 
 P» o. No i that you are worthless. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak 
 
 with you 
 Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant.) 
 Come, sir Thurio, 
 Go vfith me : — Once more, new servant, welcome : 
 I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; 
 When you have done, we look to hear from you. • 
 Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. 
 
 i Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, aiid Speed. 
 
 Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you 
 
 came ? 
 
 Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much 
 
 Val. And how do yours ? [commended. 
 
 Pro. I left them all in health. 
 
 Val. How does your lady 'f" and how thriies your 
 love? 
 
 Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you ; 
 I know, you joy not in a love-discourse. 
 
 Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: 
 I have done penance for contemning love; 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have piinish'd me 
 With bitter I'asts, with penitential groans. 
 With nightly tears, and daily heart sore sighs; 
 For, in revenge of my contempt ol liive. 
 Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, 
 And made them watihersof niiiieovvn heart's sorrow 
 O, gentle Proleus, love's a mighty lord; 
 And hath so humbled me, as, 1 confess. 
 There is no woe to his correction, 
 Nnr, to his service, no such joy on earth ! 
 Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, siio, and sleep. 
 Upon the very naked name oi love. 
 
 Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye: 
 Was this the idul that you worship so? 
 
 Val. E\en she ; and is she not a heavenly saint? 
 
 Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon. 
 
 Val. Call her divine. 
 
 Pro. I will not flatter her. 
 
 Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. 
 
 Pro. When 1 was sick you gave me bitter pills; 
 And 1 must minister the like to you. 
 
 Val. 'I'hen speak the truth by her; if not divine. 
 Yet let her be a principality. 
 Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 
 
 Pro. Except my mistress. 
 
 Val. Sweet, except not any; 
 
 Except thou will except against my love. 
 
 Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? 
 
 Val. And I will help thee to jnefer her too : 
 She shall be dignified with this high honour, — 
 'I'o bear my lady's train ; lest the base earth 
 Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss. 
 And, of so great a favour growing: proud. 
 Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower. 
 And make rough winter everlasting. 
 
 Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? 
 
 Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all 1 can, is nothing 
 To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing ; 
 She is alone. 
 
 Pro. Then let her alone. [own ; 
 
 Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is miae 
 And I as rich in having such a jewel. 
 As twenty .seas, if all their sands were pearl. 
 The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 
 Forgi\e me, that 1 do not dream on thee. 
 Because thou seest me dote upon my love. 
 My foolish rival, that her father likes. 
 Only lor his possessions are so huge. 
 Is gone with her along ; and I must after. 
 For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. 
 
 Pro. But she loves you ? 
 
 Val. Ay, we a:-e betroth 'd.- 
 
 Nay, more, onr marriage hour. 
 With all the cunning manner of our flight, 
 Determin'd of: how I must climb her window; 
 'I'lie ladder made of cords ; and all the means 
 Plotted ; and 'greed on, for my happiness. 
 Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber. 
 In these aflairs to aid me with thy counsel 
 
 Pro. Go on before ; I shall enquire you forth: 
 I must unto tlie road, to di.sembark 
 Some necessaries that I needs must use ; 
 And then I'll presently attend you. 
 
 Val. Will you make haste? 
 
 Pro. I will. [Exit Va!. 
 
 Even as one heat another heat expels. 
 Or as one nail by strength drives out another. 
 So the remembrance of my former love 
 
 1 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 23 
 
 Is by a newer objprt quite forgdtten. 
 
 Is it mine eye, or Valeiit.iins' pniise, 
 
 Hit true perfection, or riiy false truns){res.sion, 
 
 Tliat tnakes nie reasonless, to reason tlnis ? 
 
 Slie's fair ; and so is Julia, that I love ; — 
 
 That 1 did love, for now my loie is thaw'd; 
 
 Which, like a waxen imaf;e gainst a fire. 
 
 Bears no iinpressinii of the thing it was. 
 
 Methiiiks, Hiy zeal to Valentine is cold ; 
 
 And that [ lo\e him not, as 1 was wont: 
 
 O ! hilt I love his lady too. too much ; 
 
 And that's the reason 1 love him so little. 
 
 Hiiw shall 1 dote on lier with more advice, 
 
 Tiiat thus witliout ad \ ice begin to love her? 
 
 'Tis but her picture I ha\e yet beheld, 
 
 And that hath dazzled my reason's light; 
 
 But whe.n I look on her [lerlV-ctions. 
 
 There is no reason but 1 shall be blind. 
 
 If I can check my erring lo\e I will ; 
 
 If not, to compass her 111 use my skill. [Exit. 
 
 Scene V.— The same. A street. 
 Eiiler Speed and Launce. 
 
 Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to 
 Milan. 
 
 haiin. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; for 1 
 am not welcome. I reckwn tins always — that a man 
 is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor welcome to 
 a place, till some certain shot be paid, and the iiustess 
 say. welcome 
 
 Speed. Ciine on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale 
 house with you presently; where, for one shot of 
 five-pence, taou slialt liaie five tnousand welcomes. 
 But, sirrah, how did thv master part with madam 
 Julia ? 
 
 Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they 
 jjarted \ery fairly in jest. 
 
 Speed. But sliiill slie marry him? 
 
 hnun. No. 
 
 Speed. How then? shall he marry her? 
 
 ItatiH. No, neither. 
 
 Speed. \V'hat, are they broken ? 
 
 Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. 
 
 Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with 
 (lieiii .' 
 
 Laiiti. Marry, thus; when it stands well with 
 him. it stands wt-ll with her. [not. 
 
 Speed. What an ass art thou ? I understand tliee 
 
 Laun. Wliat a block art thou, that thou can'st 
 not! My stall' understands me. 
 
 Sjieed. Whit thou say'st? 
 
 Laun. Ay, and what I do, too: look thee, I'll but 
 lean, and my staff understands me. 
 
 S eed. It stands under thee, indeed. 
 ■ Lniin. W hy. stand under and understand is all one. 
 
 Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ? 
 
 Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay, it will ; if he 
 eav, no, it will ; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, 
 it will. 
 
 Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. 
 
 Lfi/nt. '^riiou Shalt never get such a secret from 
 me. but by a parable. 
 
 Speed. Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, 
 how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable 
 lovf r? 
 
 Lnun. I never knew him otherwise. 
 
 Speed. Tlian how ? 
 
 Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him 
 to lie. [me. 
 
 Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou niistakest 
 
 Laun. Why fool, I meant not thee, 1 meant thy 
 master. 
 
 Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. 
 
 Laun. Why, I tell thee. I care not though he 
 burn himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to the 
 alehouse, so; if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, 
 and not Worth the name of a Christian. 
 
 Speed. Why? 
 
 Laun. Because thou hast not so much charity , 
 
 in thee, as to go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt 
 thou go? 
 
 Speed. At thy service. [Exeunt. 
 
 Sc. VI. — The same. An Apartment in the Palace 
 Enter Pkoieus. 
 
 Pro. To leave my Julia, shall 1 be forsworn; 
 To love fair Silvia, shall 1 be forsworn ; 
 I o wrong my iriend, I shall be much forsworn ; 
 And even luat power, which gave me fiisl my oath 
 Prove. kes me to t,.is threelold perjuiy. 
 Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear; 
 
 sweet-sugg> sling love, if t^iou hast sinn'd. 
 Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 
 .\i first 1 did adore a twiijkling star. 
 
 But now I worship a celestial sun. 
 Uiiheedliil vows may heedliiby be broken; 
 And he wants wit, tliat wants resolved will 
 To learn his wit to change the bad for brtler,— 
 Fye, fye, unreverend tongue! to cad her bad, 
 VVhose sovereignty so olt thou hast pieleir'd 
 With twenty thousand soul confi.iniug oaths. 
 
 1 cannot leave to love, and yet I do; 
 
 But there I leave to love, where 1 slionld love 
 
 Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose: 
 
 ll I keep them, 1 ne^ds must lose myself; 
 
 If 1 lose them, thus find 1 by tlieir lu.ss. 
 
 For Valentine, myself: for Julia, Silvia. 
 
 I to myself ain dearer taan a Irieml ; 
 
 For love is still more precious in itself: 
 
 And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! 
 
 Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. 
 
 I will forget that Julia is alive, 
 
 Kememb'ring that my love to her is dead ; 
 
 And V^aleiitine I'll hold an enemy. 
 
 Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter fiieiid. 
 
 I cannot now prove constant to myself. 
 
 Without some treachery used to Valt- ntine : — 
 
 This night, he meaneth with a corded ladder. 
 
 To climb celestial Silvia's chainber-wiiidow ; 
 
 Myself in counsel, his competitor: 
 
 Now presently 1 11 give her lather notice 
 
 Of their disguising, and pretended fliglit; 
 
 Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine ; 
 
 For Tliurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter: 
 
 But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly ck.ss. 
 
 By some sly trick, blunt Tliiirio's dull pioct-ediiig. 
 
 Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift. 
 
 As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drilt. lEx'it. 
 
 Scene VII. — Verona. A Room in Julias House. 
 Enter J ULIA and Lucetta. 
 
 Jid. Counsel, Lucetta : gentle girl, assist me! 
 .■Xiid, even, in kind love, 1 do conjure thee, — 
 Who art the table wherein all iny thoughts 
 Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, — 
 To lesson me ; and tell me some good mean. 
 How, with my honour, I may undertake 
 A jouri.ey to my loving Proteus. 
 
 Luc. Alas! the way is wearisome and I ng. 
 
 Jul. A true-devott-d pilgmu is not weaiy 
 To measure kingdoms with his feeble strps ; 
 Aliich less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly; 
 And when the flight is made lo one so dear, 
 Ol such divine perfection, as sir Proteus. 
 
 Luc. Beiter finbear, till Proteus ni,tke return. 
 
 Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's 
 Pily the deaith that 1 have pined in, [food? 
 
 By longing for that food so long a time. 
 Didst thou but know the inly touch ol love, 
 'lliou would'st as soon go kindle tire with snow. 
 As seek to quench the fiie of love with words. 
 
 Luc. 1 do not seek to quench your love's hot fire ; 
 But quality the fire's extreme rage, 
 Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
 
 Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns 
 The current, that with gentle niuriniir glides. 
 Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; 
 But, when Ins fair course is not hindered. 
 He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, 
 
24 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Gi\'iiig n goiitle kiss to e\p\\ sedge 
 lit- (.\(-i t;ir.(.-t!i in his |iili;i iinnne ; 
 Arnl si) by many winding nooks lie sirays. 
 ^Vitli willing sijoit, to tlie wild ocean. 
 I'lieii Itt lilt: go, and liindrr not my course: 
 I'll be as [jatient as a gentle stream, 
 And make is [lastiine ot each weary step. 
 Tilt the last step have brought ine to my love; 
 And there I'll rest, as, alter much turmoil, 
 A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 
 
 Luc. I3nt in what habit will you go along? 
 
 Jul. Not like a woman; lor I would preient 
 The loose encounters oi lascivious men : 
 CJentle Lucetta, lit me with such weeds 
 As may beseem some well reputed |)age. 
 
 Jjiic. Why then, your ladysliip must cut your hair. 
 
 Jul. No, girl; I'll knit it u,< in silken strings, 
 With twenty odd conceited true-love knots: 
 To be fantastic, may become a youth 
 Ot" greater time than 1 shall show to be. [breeches? 
 
 Jjicc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your 
 
 Jul. That lits as well, as — " tell me, good my lord, 
 " What couii)ass will you wear your farthingale ?" 
 Why, even that fashion thou bist lik'st, Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece, 
 madam. 
 
 Jul. Out, out, Lucetta; that will be il! favour'd. 
 
 Luc. A round hose, madam, uow's not worth a pin. 
 Unless you have a cod piece to stick pins on. 
 
 Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have 
 What thou think'st ineei, and is most mannerly : 
 But tell me, wench, how \>ill the world repute me. 
 For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? 
 1 lear me, it will make me scaudalizd. 
 
 Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. 
 
 Jul. Nay, that I will not. 
 
 Luc. Then never dream of infamy, but go. 
 If Proteus like your journey, when you come. 
 No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone: 
 I fear me he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 
 
 Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: 
 A thousand oatlis, an ocean of his tears. 
 And instances as infinite of love, 
 \V'arrant me welcome to my Proteus. 
 
 Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.' 
 
 Jul. Base men, that use them to so base eti'ect; 
 Bat truer stars did govern Proteus' birth : 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
 His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart ; 
 His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from esrth. 
 
 Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come 
 to liira I 
 
 Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that 
 To bear a hard opinion of his triilli ; [wrong. 
 
 Only deserve my love, by loving him; 
 And presently go with me to my chamber, 
 'I'o take a note of what I stand in need of. 
 To furnish me u|)oii my longing journey. 
 All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, 
 ^ly goods, my lands, my reputation ; 
 Only, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence : 
 Come, answer not, but to it presently ; 
 I am impatient of my tarriance. {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 ScsNE I. — Milan. An Anfi-room in the Duke's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, Thurio, and Puoteus. 
 
 Duhe. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; 
 
 We have some secrets to confer about 
 
 [Exit Thurio. 
 Now tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me ? 
 
 Pro. My gracious lord, that which J would dis- 
 The law of fiieiidsliip bids me to conceal : [cover. 
 But, when I call to mind your gracious favours 
 Done to me, undeserving as 1 am, 
 -Vly duty pricks me on to utter that, 
 VV iiirh else no vvoridly good should draw from me. 
 
 Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend. 
 
 This ni^ht intends to steal away \oiir ttaughter; 
 
 Myself am one iniSie privy to the plot. 
 
 1 know, you have determin'd to bestow her 
 
 (Jn Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates , 
 
 And should she thus be stolen away from you. 
 
 It w(uild be much vex-tlion to your age. 
 
 I'hus, fir my duty's sake, I rather chose 
 
 To cross tiiy friend in his intended drift. 
 
 Than, by concealing it, heap on yoitr heiid 
 
 A pack of sorrows, which would press _\ou down, 
 
 Being unprevenled, to your timeless grave. 
 
 Dule. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care 
 Which to requite, command me while I hve. 
 This love of theirs myself have often seen. 
 Haply, when they have judged nie last asleep; 
 And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid 
 .Sir Valentine her company, and my court : 
 But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err. 
 And so, unworthily, disgrace the nlin, 
 (A rashness that 1 ever yet have shunn'd,) 
 1 gave him gentle looks; thereby to find 
 Tiiat, which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. 
 And, that thou niay'st perceive my fear o) this. 
 Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, 
 I nightly lodge her in an upper tower. 
 The key whereof myself have ever kejit; 
 And thence she cannot be convey'd away. 
 
 Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis"d a niesKs 
 How he her chamber-window will ascenil. 
 And with a corded ladder i'etch her down ; 
 For which the yoiilhliil lover now is gone. 
 And this way comes he with it presently ; 
 W here, if it please yon, yon may intercept liini. 
 But, good my lord, do it so cuaniiigly. 
 That my discovery be not aimed at ; 
 For love of you, not hate unto my friend. 
 Hath made me publisher of this pretence. 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know 
 That 1 had any light from thee of tins. 
 
 Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine isconving. 
 
 Eiiter Vaxentlnje. [Exti. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentin*; whither away so fast ? 
 
 Val. Please it your grace, there is a messengex 
 That stays to bear my letters to my triends. 
 And I am going to deliver them. 
 
 Duke. Be they of much import? 
 
 Val. The tenor of them doth but s'lgnify 
 My health, and happy l>eiiig at yoar court. 
 
 Duke. Nay, then no matter ; stay with nie awLile; 
 1 am to break with thee of some ailairs. 
 That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 
 'Tis not unknown to thee, that 1 have sought 
 To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter. 
 
 Val. 1 know it well, my lord; and, sure,tlie nia'tcf} 
 Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentleinaa 
 Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities 
 Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : 
 Cannot your grace win her totancy him '! [ward, 
 
 Duke. No, trust me; she is pee\ ish, sullen, frs>- 
 Proiid, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; 
 Neither regarding that she is my child. 
 Nor fearing me as if I were her fathtr: 
 And, may I say to thee, this piide ot hers. 
 Upon advice, hath drawn my loie trom her: 
 And. wlieie I thought the reuuiant of mine age 
 Should have been cnerish"d by her child-like duty, 
 I now am lull resolved to take a wiie. 
 And turn her out to who will take her in : 
 Then let her beauty he her wedding dower; 
 Por me and my possessions she esteems nut. 
 
 Val. What would your grace luive ine to do in tiuaf 
 
 Duke, 'i'herc is a iady, sir, iu Milan, here. 
 Whom I alVect ; but she is nice, and coy, 
 And nought esteems my ageit eloquence : 
 Now, therefore, would i have tliee to my tutor 
 (For Ion ; agone I have forgot to couit: 
 Besides, the fashion of the time is cliang d ;) 
 How, and which way, 1 may beitow myself. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 25 
 
 To be re^^rdeil in her siin-bright eye. 
 
 Val. VV iti lier will) giits, it she r espect not word? : 
 Diinib jewels often, in tlieir silent kiml, 
 More than quick words, do move a \voni;in"s mind. 
 
 Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. 
 
 Val. A woman sometimes scorns wiiat best con- 
 Send iier another; never give her o'er ; [tents her: 
 For scorn at first makes after-lo\ e the more. 
 If she do frown, 'tis Tiot in hate of yon^ 
 But rather to beget more love in yon : 
 If she do chide, 'tis not to have yon gone ; 
 For why, tlie fools are mad, if left alone. 
 Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; 
 For, yet you gone, she doth not mean aivay : 
 Flatter, and praise, commend, extol tlieir graces ; 
 'J'hough ne'er so black, say, they have angels' faces. 
 'I'liat man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
 If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 
 
 Duke. But she, I mean, is pron)is'd by her friends 
 Unto a yotithffd gentleman of worth j 
 .And kept severely from resort of men. 
 That no man hath access by day to her. 
 
 Val. Wliy then I would resoi t to her by tn'ght. 
 
 Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept 
 That no man hath recourse to her by night. [sate, 
 
 Va/. What lets, but one may enteral her window? 
 
 Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground ; 
 And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it 
 Without apparent hazard of his life. 
 
 Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, 
 To cast up with a pair of anciioring hooks, 
 Would serve to scale another Hero's tower. 
 So bcild Leander would adventure it. 
 
 Duke. Now, as thon art a gentleman of blood, 
 Adiise me where I may have such a ladder, [that. 
 
 Va/. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell rae 
 
 Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, 
 Tliat longs lor every thing that he can come by. 
 
 VaL By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. 
 
 Dukf. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone ; 
 Jlow sliall 1 best convey the ladder thither? 
 
 Val. li will be light, my lord, that you may bear it 
 Under a cloak, that is of any length. [turn. 
 
 Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the 
 
 Val. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Duke. Tlien let me see thy cloak : 
 Fll get nie one of such another length. 
 
 Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. 
 Duke.. How sliall I fashion me to wear a cloak "? — 
 1 pray thee, let me feel tliy cloak upon me. — 
 What htter is this same ? What's here?— To Silvia? 
 And here an engine fit for my proceeding I 
 I'll be .so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads. 
 j\Ii/ iliourjhts do harbour toith my Silvia niyhtly ; 
 
 And slaves they are to me, that send tJiemjlyiny : 
 0. could tlieir master come and yo as liyhtly. 
 
 Himself tvould lodye, where senseless they are 
 lyniy. 
 My herald thoughts in thy pure boso?n rest them ; 
 
 While I. their king, that thither them importune. 
 Do cur.se the grace that with such yrace hath 
 bless d them. 
 
 Because myself do want my servattts' fortune : 
 J curse myself, for they are sent by me, [be. 
 
 l^/iot they should harbour where their lord should 
 W hats here ? 
 Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee : 
 
 "I'ls so; and here's the ladder for the purpose 
 
 Why, Phaeton, (for thou art Merops' son,) 
 VV'ilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car. 
 And wilh thy daring folly burn the world? 
 W^ilt thou reach stars, becau.se they shine on thee? 
 Go, base intruder! over-weening sla\el 
 Bestow tiiy fawning smiles on equal mates ; 
 And think, my | atience, more than thy desert. 
 Is privilege for thy departure hence : 
 Thank me for this, more than fjr all the favours. 
 Which, all too much, I haxe bestow'd on thee. 
 But if thou linger in my territories. 
 Longer than swiftest expeditioa 
 
 \\ ill give thee time to leave our royal court, 
 By hea\en, my wrath shall far exceed the love 
 I ever boiv my daughter, or thyself. 
 Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse ; 
 But as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. 
 
 [Exit Duke. 
 Val. And why not death, rather than living tor- 
 To die, is to be banish'd from myself; [lueut ? 
 
 And Silvia is myself: banish'd Jrum her. 
 Is self from sell'; a deadly banishment! 
 What light is light, if Silfia be not seen? 
 What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ? 
 Unless it be to think that she is by. 
 And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
 Except I be by Silvia in the night. 
 There is no music in the nightingale : 
 Unless I look on Sihia in the day. 
 There is no day for me to look upon : 
 She is my essence ; and I lea\e to be. 
 If I be not by her fair inlluenre 
 Foster'd, illumin'd, cherisii'd, kept alive. 
 I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom : 
 Tarry I here, I but attend on death ; 
 But, fly I hence, I fly away from lift-. 
 
 Enter Proteus and Launce. 
 
 Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him ont. 
 
 Laun. So-ho! so-ho! 
 
 Pro. What seest thou ? 
 
 Laun. Him vi'e go to find : there's not a hair on's 
 head, but 'tis a Valentine. 
 
 Pro. Valentine ? 
 
 Val. No. 
 
 Pro. Who then? his spirit? 
 
 Val. Neither. 
 
 Pro. What then? 
 
 Val. Nothing. 
 
 Laun. Can nothing speak ? master, shall I strike? 
 
 Pro. Whom would'st thou strike ? 
 
 Laun. Nothing. 
 
 Pro. Villain, forbear. 
 
 Laun. Why, sir, I'll stnke nothing: 1 pray yon, — 
 
 Pro. Sirrah, 1 say, forbear : — Friend Valentine, 
 a word. [news, 
 
 Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good 
 So much of bad already hath possess'd them. 
 
 Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine. 
 For they are harsh, untuoeable, and bad. 
 
 Vol. Is Silvia dead ? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia ! — 
 Hath she forsworn nie ? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me .' — 
 What is your news? [vani.sh'd. 
 
 Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation tliat you are 
 
 Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news; 
 From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. 
 
 Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already. 
 And now excess of it will make me surfeit. 
 Doth Silvia know that I am banished ? 
 
 Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath otl'er'd to the doom, 
 (Which, unrevers'd, stands in efi'ectual force,) 
 A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears . 
 Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; 
 With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
 Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became 
 .4is if but now they waxed pale for woe ; [tiienie 
 But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, 
 Sad sighs, deep gjoans, nor silver^sheddmg fears. 
 Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire: 
 But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. 
 Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so. 
 When she for thy repeal was suppliant, 
 That to close prison he conmianded her. 
 With many bitter threats of biding there. 
 
 Val. No more; unless the next word, that thoa 
 speak'st. 
 Have some malignant power upon my life : * 
 If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear. 
 
26 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act tit. 
 
 As Piidin? anthem of my endless dolour. 
 
 Pro. Cease to lament for tliat thou can'st not help, 
 Aiid study lielp, (or that whicli tlioii lanient'st. 
 Time is the nmse ar.d breeder of all jjood. 
 Here if thou stiiy, thou canst not see tliy love ; 
 Besides, tliy stayiii)^ will abrii'ge tliy lile. 
 Hope is a lover's sic'tl ; walk heiite with that. 
 And manage it again.st despairing thoughts. 
 'I'hy letters may be here, though tlioii art hence; 
 Wiiich, bi-ing wiit to me, shall be deliver'd 
 Even in the nnlk- white bosom of tliy lo\e. 
 The time now serves not to expostulate : 
 Come, 111 convey thee through the city gate; 
 And, eie i part witli tliee, confer at fin'e 
 Of all that may concern lliy love-atfaiis: 
 As thou lov'st Silvia, thongli not lor thyself, 
 Regard tiiy danger, and along with me. 
 
 TV//. 1 pray tiiee, Launce, an il thou seest my boy. 
 Bid hull make haste, and meet me at tlie north gate. 
 
 Pro. (Jo, sirrah, find him out. — Ciime,Vh!it;t!ne. 
 
 Val. O my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine ! 
 
 lE.veunl Valentine and Protens. 
 
 Laun. I am but a fool, look you; and yet 1 liave 
 the wit to think, my master is a kind of knaie : but 
 that's all one, if lie be but one knave. He lives 
 not now, that knows me to be in love ; yet I am in 
 love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that 
 fniui me; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman: 
 but that woman, 1 will not tell myself; and yet 'tis 
 a milkmaid; yet 'tis n t a maid, for she hath had 
 gossips : yet 'tis a maid, tor she is her master's maid, 
 and serves lor wages. She hath more qualities 
 than a water spaniel, — which is much in a bare 
 christian. Here is the cat-log {Pi(Uing out a pnper) 
 of her conditions. luipriuii.s. She can j'e'ck arid 
 carry. Why, a horse can do no more ; nay, a horse 
 cannot fetch, but only carry ; tiiereliore, is slie better 
 than a jide. Item, She can milk ; look you, a sweet 
 virtue m a maid vvitli clean hauiis. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. How now, signior Launce? what news 
 with your mastership? 
 
 Laun. With my master's s'.ip? why, it is at sea. 
 
 Speed. Well, your old vice still ; mistake the 
 word : what news then in your paper? 
 
 Lritm. The blackest news that ever thou heard'st 
 
 Speed. Why, man, how black? 
 
 Laun. Wliy, as black as ink. 
 
 Sjjeed. Let me read them. 
 
 Laun. Fye on thee, jolt head ; thou canst not read. 
 
 Speed. Thou best, I can. | thee ? 
 
 Lnun. I will try thee : tell me this: who begot 
 
 Speed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. 
 
 Laiin. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of tliy 
 granduiother; this proves, that thmi canst not read. 
 
 Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy paper. 
 
 Laun. There ; and St. Nicholas be thy speed ! 
 
 Speed. Imprimis, She can milk. 
 
 Laun. Ay, tiiat she can. 
 
 Sjjeed. Item, She breivs good ale. 
 
 Laun. And thereof comes the proverb, — Blessing 
 of your heart, you brew good ale. 
 
 Speed. Item, She can sew. 
 
 L^tun. That's as much as to say. Can she so? 
 
 Speed. Item, SJie can knit. 
 
 Laun. What need a man care for a stock with a 
 wench, when she can knit him a stock? 
 
 Speed. Item, She can ivash and scour. 
 
 Laun. A special virtue ; lor then she need not be 
 washed and scoured. 
 
 Speed. Item, She can spin. 
 
 Laun. Then may I set tlie world on wheels, when 
 she can spin (or her living. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath many nameless virtues. 
 
 Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; 
 Ihnt, indeed, know not their fathers, and therefore 
 have no names. 
 
 Speed. Here folloiv her vices. 
 
 Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is not to be kissed fasting, i* 
 respect of her breath. 
 
 Lauti. Well, that fault may be mended with a 
 breaklast : read on. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath a sweet mouth. 
 
 Laun. That makes amends iiir her sour breath. 
 
 Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. 
 
 Laun. It's no matter for that, so .she sleep not in 
 her talk. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is slow in words. 
 
 Laun. O villain, that set this down among her 
 vices ! To be slow in words, is a woinan's only 
 virtue : I pray thee, out with't; and place it for her 
 chief virtue. 
 
 Speed. Item, She is pro24d. 
 
 Laun. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, 
 and cannot be ta'en from her. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath no teeth. [crusts. 
 
 Laun. 1 care n^ t lor that neither, because I love 
 
 Speed. Item, She is curst. 
 
 Laun. VVell ; tne best is, she hath no teeth to bite. 
 
 Speed. She ivill often p-^aise her liquor. 
 
 Laun. It her liquor be good, siie shall : if she will 
 not, I will; for good things should be praised 
 
 Speed. Item, She is too liberal. 
 
 Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ 
 down she is slow of; of her purse she shall not ; for 
 that I'll keep shut: now of another thing she may ; 
 and that I cannot liel|>. Well, proceed. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath more hair than wit, and 
 more faults than hairs, and more wealth than 
 faults. 
 
 Laun. Stop there; I'll have her; she was rnine, 
 and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article : 
 rehearse that once more. 
 
 Speed. Item, She hath more Jiair than ivit, — 
 
 Laun. More hair than wit, — it may be ; I'll prove 
 it: the cover of the salt hides the salt, and there- 
 fore it is more than the salt ; the hair that co\ ers the 
 wit, is more than the wit ; for the greater hides the 
 less. What's next? 
 
 Speed. — And more faults than hairs, — 
 
 Latm. That's monstrous ; O, that that were out .' 
 
 Speed. — And more wealth than faidts. 
 
 Laun. VVhy, that word makes the laults gracious. 
 Well, I'll have her: and if it be a match, as nothing 
 is impossible, — 
 
 Speed. What then? 
 
 Laun. VVhy, then I will tell thee, — that thy 
 master stays tor thee at the north gate. 
 
 Speed For me ? 
 
 Laun. For thee? ay; who art thou? he hath staid 
 for a belter man than thee. 
 
 Speed. And must I go to him? 
 
 Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou ha.st staid 
 so long, that going will scarce serve the turn. 
 
 Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of 
 your love-letters! \Exit. 
 
 Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my 
 letter : an unmannerly slave, that will thrust him- 
 self into secrets!— I'll alter, to rejoice in the boy's 
 correction. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Room in the Duke's Pa- 
 lace. Enter DuKE and Thurio ; Proteus behind. 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love 
 Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. [you, 
 
 Thu. Since his exile she hath despis d me most. 
 Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me. 
 That I am desperate of obtaining her. 
 
 Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure 
 Trench'd in ice; which with an hour's heat, 
 Dis.solves to water, and doth lose his form. 
 A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, 
 And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. — 
 How now, sir Proteus? Is your countryman, 
 According to our proclamation, gone? 
 
 Pro. Gone, mv gooil lord. 
 
 Duke. My daughter takes his going grievou.sly. 
 
 Pro. A little tune, my lor>l, will kill thatgrie£ 
 
Act rV. Scene 1. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 
 
 27 
 
 .Duke. So I believe ; but Thiirio tliinks not so. — 
 Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee, 
 (For thou imst shown some sign of good desert,) 
 Mnkes me the better to confer with thee. 
 
 Pro. LonL;er than I prove loyal to your grace. 
 Let me not live to look npon your grace. 
 
 Dithe. 'J'hou know'st, how willingly I would effect 
 The iii;(ti;h between sir Thurio and my daughter. 
 
 Pro. I do, my lord. 
 
 Did-ff. And also, I think, tliou art not ignorant 
 How she opposes her ngainst my will. 
 
 Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. 
 
 Dulce. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. 
 What might we do, to make the girl forget 
 The lo\e of Valentine, and love sir 'Jliurio ? 
 
 Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine 
 With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; 
 Three things that women highly hold in hate. 
 
 Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate. 
 
 Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : 
 Therelbre it must, with circumstance, be spoken 
 By one, whom slieesteemeth as his friend. 
 
 Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him. 
 
 Pro. And (hat, my lord, I shall be loth to do: 
 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman ; 
 Especially, against his very friend. [him, 
 
 Duke. Where your good word cannot advantage 
 Your slander never can endamage him ; 
 Therefore the office is inditferent. 
 Being entreated to it by your friend. 
 
 Pro. Yon have prevail'd, my lord • if I can do it. 
 By anglit that I can speak in his dispraise, 
 ►She shall not long continue love to him. 
 But say, this weed her love from Valentine, 
 It follows not, that she will love sir 'I'hurio. 
 
 Thu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him. 
 Lest it should ravel, and be good to none. 
 Von must pro\ide to bottom it on me : 
 Wliich must be dcme, by praising me as much 
 As yon in worth dispraise sir Valentine. f kiud ; 
 
 Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this 
 Because we know, on Valentine's report. 
 You are already love's firm votary, 
 And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
 Upon this warrant shall you have access. 
 Where yon with Silvia may confer at large; 
 For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy. 
 And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of yon ; 
 Where you niav temper her, by your persuasion, 
 ''o hate young Valentine, and love my friend. 
 
 Pro. As much as I can do, 1 will effect : — 
 But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough; 
 You must lay lime, to tangle her desires. 
 By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
 Should be full fraught with serviceable vows. 
 
 Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy. 
 
 Pro Say, that upon the altar of i»er beauty 
 Yon sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart; 
 Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears 
 Moist it again; and frame some feeling line. 
 That may discover such integrity : 
 For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews ; 
 Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones. 
 Make tigers tame, and huge leviath^ins 
 Forsake imsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 After your dire lamenting elegies, 
 Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
 With some sweet concert: to their instruments 
 Tune a deploring dump; the night's dead silence 
 Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. 
 This, or else nothing, will inherit her. [love. 
 
 Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in 
 
 Tku. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice : 
 Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, 
 Let us into the city presently. 
 To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music : 
 I have a sonnet that will ser\e the turn. 
 To {live the onset to thy good advice. 
 Duke, ."^bout it, gentlemen. 
 
 Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper : 
 
 And afterwards determine onr proceedings. 
 Duke. Even now about it; I will pardon you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT. IV. 
 Scene I. — A Forest, nenr Mantua. 
 Enter certain Outlaws. 
 
 1 Out. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. 
 
 2 Out. If there be ten, shiink not, but down 
 
 with 'em. 
 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 
 3 Out. Stand, sir, and tlirow us tliat you have 
 
 about you ; 
 If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle yon. 
 
 Speed. Sir, we jire undone ! these are the villains 
 That all the tra\ellers do fear so much. 
 
 \ ftl. IVly friends, — 
 
 1 Out. 'Dial's not so, sir; we are your enemies. 
 
 2 Out. Peace ; we'll hear him. 
 
 3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we ; 
 For lies a proper man. 
 
 Val. Then know , that I have little wealth to lose; 
 .A man I am, crossed with adversity : 
 INly riches are these poor habiliments, 
 Of which if you should here disl'urnish me. 
 You take the sum and substance that I have. 
 
 2 Out.^ Whither travel you ? 
 Vol. To Veiona. 
 
 I Out.' Whence came you? 
 Val. From Milan. 
 
 3 Out. Have yon long sojourn'd there? [staid, 
 \ al. Some sixteen months ; and longer might have 
 
 If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 
 
 1 Out. What, were you banish'd tlience? 
 Val. I was. 
 
 2 Out.^ For what offence ? 
 
 \al. For tliat w hich now torments me to rehearse: 
 I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; 
 But yet I slew him manfully in figlit. 
 Without false vantage, or base treachery. 
 
 1 Out. Why. ne'er repent it, if it were done" 80; 
 But were you banish'd lor sosmall a laiilt? 
 
 Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 
 
 1 Out. Ha\e yon the tongues? 
 
 Val. My youthful timel therein made me happy; 
 Or else I often had been miserable. 
 
 3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar. 
 This fellow were a king for our wild faction. 
 
 1 Out. We'll have him ; sirs, a word. 
 
 Speed. Master, be one of them; 
 
 It is an honourable kind of thievery. 
 Val. Peace, \illain ! 
 
 2 Out. Tell us this : have yon any thing to take to ? 
 Val. Nothing, but my fortune. 
 
 3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen, 
 Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth 
 
 Thrust from the company of awlul men; 
 Myself was from Verona banished, 
 For practising to steal away a lady. 
 An heir, and near allied unto the duke. 
 
 2 Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman. 
 Who >i, in my mood, I sfalib'd unto the heart. 
 
 1 Out. And I. for such like petty crimes as these. 
 But to the purpose, — (for v\e cite our faults. 
 
 That they may hold exciis'd our lawless lives,) 
 Am), paitiv, seeing you are beautified 
 With goodly sliape; and by your ou n report 
 A lingiiint; and a man of such perfection. 
 As we do ill our quality mui:h want; — 
 
 2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, 
 Therefore, abo\e the rest, we parley to you: 
 
 Are you content to be our general ? 
 
 'I'd make a virtue of necessity. 
 
 And live, as we do, in this wilderness? [consort? 
 
 3 Out. What say st lliou ? wilt thou be of our 
 Sav, ay, and be the capta:n of us all : 
 
 We'll do thee homage, and be nil'd by thee. 
 Love thee as our commander, and our king. 
 
 I Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, tiiou diett 
 
28 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 2 Old. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have 
 
 olier'il. 
 Val. I i:\ke your offer, and will live with you ; 
 Provided t lat you do no outrages 
 On silly woruei), or poor passengers. 
 
 3 Out No, we detest such vile base practices. 
 Come, go with us, we'll brinsf tliee to our crews. 
 And shew thee all the treasure we have got; 
 Which, with ourselves, all rest at tliy dispose. 
 
 lExp.unt. 
 
 Scene II.— Milan. Court of the Palace. 
 Enter Protbcjs. 
 Pro. Already have I been fal-e to Valentine, 
 And now I must be as unjust to Thufio. 
 Under tlie colour of commending him, 
 I have access my own hue to pieter; 
 But SiMa is too fair, too true, too holy, 
 To be corrUi ttd with my worthless gitls. 
 When I protest true loyalty to her, 
 Slie twits me with my falsehood to my friend; 
 \V hen to her beauty I commend my vows, 
 8iie bids me tiiink, how I ha\e been i'orsworn 
 In lireakmg laith with Julia whom I lov'd ; 
 And, n itwilhstanding all her smiden qiips, 
 'I'i.e le.ist whereof would quell a lover's hope, 
 Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, 
 Tlie more it grows, and fawnetli on her still, 
 liut here comesThurio: now nmst we to her window. 
 And give some evening music to her ear. 
 
 Enter Thurio and Musicians. 
 
 Tim. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept be- 
 fore us ? 
 
 Pro. Ay, gentle Thiirio; for, yon know, that love 
 Wdl cree . in service where it cannot go. 
 
 Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that yr)u love not here. 
 
 Pro. Sir, but I do ; or else I would be hence. 
 
 Thu. Wiiom? Sdvia? 
 
 Pro. Ay. Silvia, — for your sake. 
 
 Thu. I thank yon for your own. Now, gentlemen. 
 Lets tune, and to it lustily awhile. 
 
 Enter Host, at a distance ; and Julia, in hoy's 
 clothes. 
 
 Host. Now, my young guest ! niethinks you're 
 allycliolly ; I pray you, wiiy is it? 
 
 Jul. Many, mine host.becaiise I cannot be merry. 
 
 Host. Come, we'll have you merry : I'll bring you 
 where you shall hear music, and see the geutlcuiau 
 .jiat you ask'd (or. 
 
 Jul But shall I hear him speak ? 
 
 Host- Ay, that you shall. 
 
 Jul. That will he music. (Music plans.) 
 
 Hu.st. Ha,k! hark! 
 
 Jul. Is he among these ? 
 
 Host. Ay ; but peace, let's hear 'em. 
 
 SOX a. 
 
 fVi'io is Silvia? tvhat is she, 
 
 That all our swains commend her] 
 
 Holij , fair , and wise is she; 
 
 The heavens such qrace did lend her, 
 
 That she miijlit admired be. 
 
 Is she kind, as she is fair ! 
 
 For beauty lives loith kindness: 
 Lore doth to her eyes rej)air. 
 
 To help him of his blindness ; 
 And, beinij help'd, inhabits there. 
 
 Then to Silvia let us sinij. 
 
 That Silvia is e.xcellinq ; 
 She excels each mortal thiiirj, 
 
 Ujwn the dull earth dwellinij : 
 To her let us yarlands briny. 
 
 Host. How now? are you sadder than j'ou were 
 br Core ? 
 How d'l you, Mian? tlie music likes vou not. 
 Jul. ^'oii iMis'ake ; tlie musician likes me not. 
 flust. Wiiy. my pretty youth ? 
 Jul. lit pl'.iys false, tatlier 
 
 Host. How? out of tune on the strings? 
 
 Jul. Not so; but yet so false that he V'!"^ ^'i^s niy 
 very heart-strings. 
 
 Host. You ha\ e a quick ear. 
 
 Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf i it makes me hav 
 a slow heart. 
 
 Host. I jierceive, you delight not in music. 
 
 Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 
 
 Host. Hark, what hne change is in the m isic ! 
 
 Jul. Ay; that change is the spile. [tiling 
 
 Host. You vvould have them always play but on 
 
 Jul. I would always have one play but one tlung 
 But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on 
 often resort ui-ito this gentlewoman ':' 
 
 Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me 
 he loved her out of all nick. 
 
 Jul. Where is Launce ? 
 
 Host. Gone to seek his dog; which, to-morrow, 
 by his master's command, he must cany lor a pic- 
 sent to his lady. 
 
 Jul. Peace .' stand aside I the company parts. 
 
 Pro. Sir 'I'liurio, fear not you 1 I will so plead. 
 That you shall say, my cunning diift eicels. 
 
 Thu. Where meet we ? 
 
 Pro. At saint Gregory's well. 
 
 Thu. Farewell. (Exeunt Thurio and Musicians.) 
 Silvia appears above, at her luindow. 
 
 Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 
 
 Sil. I thank you lor your music, gentlemen ; 
 Who is that, that spake ? 
 
 Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heai t"s truth. 
 You'd quickly learn to kuovv him by his voice. 
 
 Sil. Sir Proteus, as 1 take it. 
 
 Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and vour servant. 
 
 Sil. What is your will ? 
 
 Pro. 'J'hat I may compass yoms. 
 
 Sil. You Irave your wish ; my will is e\en tins, — 
 That presently you hie you home to bed. 
 Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man 1 
 Think'st thou, 1 aui so shallow, so conceitless. 
 To be seduced by thy flattery, 
 That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? 
 Return, return, hnd make tliy love amends. 
 For me, — by this |jah- queirn of night 1 swear, 
 I am so iar Irom gi anting thy request. 
 That I despise thee for thy wroiif.lul suit; 
 And by and by intend to chide myself, 
 Even for this time 1 spend in talking to (liee. 
 
 Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady 
 But she IS dead. 
 
 Jul. 'Tvvere false, if I should speak it; 
 For, I am sure, she is not Imried. [Aside.' 
 
 Sil. Say, that she be ; yet Valentine, tliy tnend. 
 Survives ; to whom, thjselfart witness, 
 I am betrotird : ami art thou not asiiain'il 
 'J'o wrong him with thy ijiiportunacy ? 
 
 Pro. I likewise hear, that Vidt ntine is dead. 
 
 Sil. And so, suppose am 1 ; for in his grave. 
 Assure thysell, my love is buried. 
 
 Pro. Sweet lady, let me lake it from the earth. 
 
 Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence; 
 Or, at tiie least, in hers seimlchre thine. 
 
 Jul. He heard not that. [Aside.) 
 
 Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
 Vouchs.Tfe me yet your picture for my love, 
 The picture that i, hinging in your cliamb-r; 
 To that 111 speak, to that I'll sigh and weep: 
 For, since the substance of your perfect self 
 Is else devoted, I am but a shadow ; 
 And to your shadow I will make true love. (it, 
 
 Jul. If 'twere a substance, you vvould sure deceive 
 And make it hut a shadow, as I am. [Aside.) 
 
 Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir: 
 But, since your fdsehood shall become you well 
 To worship shadows, and adore false shapes, 
 Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it: 
 A\\(\ so, good rest. ^ 
 
 Pro. As wretches have o'er-night, 
 
 That wait for execution in the morn. 
 
 {Exeunt Proteus ; and Silvia., from above 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 29 
 
 J)(l. ITiist, will yon go ? 
 
 Hiist. 13y my liallidoiii, I was fast asleep. 
 
 Jiii. Fray y(jii, where lies sir Proteus? 
 
 Host, ftlarry, at niy house. Trust me, I think, 
 'tis aliiiost (Iny. 
 
 Jul. Not so ; but it hath been the longest nia:ht 
 riiat e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — T/ie same. 
 Enter Eclamoor. 
 
 E'jl. This is the hour that madam Silvia 
 Ruireated u'.e to call, and know her mind ; 
 I'iieres .some great matter s.'ie'd employ me in. — 
 Madum. madam ! 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her ■window. 
 
 Sll. Who calls ■'. 
 
 E(jl. Your servant, and your friend; 
 
 One that attends your ladysiiip's command. 
 
 Sil. Sir Ef^lamour, a thousand times good-morrow. 
 
 E<jl. As many, wortliy lady, to yourself. 
 According to your ladyship's impose, 
 1 am thus early come, to know what service 
 It is your pleasure to command me in. 
 
 Sit. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman, 
 (Tliitik not, I flatter, i'or, I swear, I do not,) 
 Valiant, wise, remorseful, well acconiplish'd. 
 'i'liou art not ignorant, what dear good will 
 I bear unto the banish'd Valentine ; 
 Nor how my father would enforce me marry 
 Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd. 
 Thyself hast lov'd ; and I have heard thee say 
 No grief did ever come so near thy heart. 
 As when tiiy lady and thy true love died, 
 Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. 
 Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, 
 To Mantua, where, I.hear, he makes abode; 
 And, (or the vMys are dangerous to pass, 
 I do desire thy wcrthy company, 
 Upon whose faith and honour I repose. 
 Urge not my tatiier's anger, Eglamour, 
 But think upon my grief, a lady's grief: 
 And on tlie justice of my flying hence, 
 'J'o keep me from a most unholy match, 
 VViiich heaven and fortune still reward with plagues. 
 I do desire thee, even from a heart 
 As full of sorrows as the sea of sands. 
 To bear me company, and go with me : 
 If not, to hide .what I have said to thee, 
 That I may venture to depart alone. 
 
 Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances ; 
 Which since I know they virtuously are placed, 
 I give consent to go along with you ; 
 Recking as little what betideth me 
 As mucli I wish all good betortune you. 
 When will you go? 
 
 Sil. This evening coming. 
 
 Eyl. Where shall I meet you ? 
 
 Sll. At friar Patrick's cell, 
 
 Wiierel intend holy confession. 
 
 Eyl. I will not fail your ladyship: 
 Good-morrow, gentle lady. 
 
 Sil. Guod-niorrow, kind sir Eglamour. {Exeunt.) 
 
 Scene Yf.—The same. 
 Enter Lacnce, with his dog. 
 When a man's servant shall play the cur with 
 him, look you, it goes hard : one that I brought up 
 of a puppy ; one that I saved from drowning, when 
 three or lour of his blind brothers and sisters went 
 to it! I ha^e taught him — e\en as one would say 
 precisely. Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent 
 to deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from 
 my master; and I came no sooner into the dining- 
 chaiuber, but he steps me to her trencher, and steals 
 her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, when a cur 
 cannot keep himself in all companies ! I would 
 have, as one should say, one tiiat takes upon him 
 to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all 
 things. If I had not had more wit than he, to 
 take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he 
 
 had been hanged for't; sure as I live be had snf- 
 iered for't : you shall judge. He thrusts nie him- 
 self into the company of three or four geutleuuin- 
 like dogs, under the duke's table : he had not been 
 there (bless the mark) a pissing while, but all the 
 chamber smelt him. Out with the dtxf. says one 
 What cur is that! says another; Whip him out, 
 says the third ; Hany him vp, says the duke. I, 
 having been acquauited with the smell befoie, 
 knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that 
 whips the dogs : Friend, quoth- 1, you mean to whip 
 the doy ! Ay, marry, do I, quoth he. You do hi 
 the more wrony, quotli I ; 'twas I did the thiny yo' 
 tvot of. He makes me no more ado, but whips me 
 out of the chamber. How many m'asters would 
 do this for their servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I 
 have sat on the stocks for puddings he hath stolen, 
 otherwise he had been executed: I lune stood on 
 the pillory for geese he hath killed, otherwise he had 
 sutt'ered for't: thou think'st not of this now ! — Nay, 
 I remember the trick you served me, when I took 
 my leave of madam Silvia ; did not I bid thee still 
 mark me, and do as I do? When did'st thou see 
 me heave up my leg, and make water against a 
 gentlewoman's farthingale ? didst thou ever see me 
 do such a trick ? 
 
 Enter Proteus and Juli.a. 
 
 Pro. Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well. 
 And will employ thee in some service presently. 
 
 Jul. In what you please; — I will do what I can. 
 
 Pro. I hope thou wilt. — How now, you whoreson 
 peasant ? ( To Launce.) 
 
 Where have you been these two days loitering ? 
 
 Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress SiKia tiie dog 
 you bade me. 
 
 Pro. And what says sh^ to my little jewel ? 
 
 Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur ; and 
 tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a 
 
 Pro. But she received my dog? [present. 
 
 Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here lune I 
 brought him back again. 
 
 Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me ? 
 
 Laun. Ay sir; the other squirrel was stolen from 
 me by the hangman's boys in the maiket-plaee : and 
 then I oftered her mine own ; who is a dog as big as 
 ten of yours, and therefore the gift the gieater. 
 
 Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dug again. 
 Or ne'er return again into my sight. 
 Away, I say : stay'st thou to vex me here ? 
 A slave, that, still an end, turns me to shame. 
 
 [Exit Launce. 
 Sebastian, I have entertained thee. 
 Partly, that I have need of such a youth. 
 That can with some discretion do my business. 
 For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt ; 
 But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour; 
 Which (if my augury deceive me not) 
 Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth: , 
 Therefore know thou, for this 1 entertain thte. 
 Go presently, and take this ring wuh thee. 
 Deliver it to madam Silvia : 
 She loved me well, deliver'd it to me. [token 
 
 Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her 
 She's dead, belike. 
 
 Pro. Not so ; I think, she lives 
 
 Jul. Alas! 
 
 Pro. \Vhy dost thou cry, alas? 
 
 Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. 
 
 Pro. Wherefore should'st tliou pity her? 
 
 Jul. Because, methinks that she loved you as well 
 As you do love your lady Silvia: 
 She dreams on him, that has forgot her love ; 
 You dote on her, that cares not for your love. 
 'Tis pity, love should be so contrary ; 
 And thinking on it makes me cry, alas I 
 
 Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal 
 This letter; — that's her chamber. — Tell my lady, 
 I claim the promise ior her heavenly picture. 
 Your message done, hie home unto my chamber. 
 
30 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 WliPre flioii slialt find me sad and solitary .fKr. Pt-o. 
 Jul. How many woiiK^n would do sncl) a message"/ 
 Alas, poor Pidteijs I tlioii iiast entertained 
 A fox, to be tlie slit-plieril oi thy iambs: 
 Alas , |)Oor fool ! why do I | ity liim 
 That witli liis very heart despisetli me ? 
 Because lie loves lier, lie despisctli me; 
 IJecaiise I love him, I must pity him. 
 This rinu I gave liim, when he parted from me. 
 To bind liiin to remember my good will: 
 And now am 1 (iuilia|)py messenijer) 
 To plt-ad tor that, wiiicli I would not obtain; 
 To carry tint which I would have reins d ; 
 To praise his faith, wiiich I would have disprais'd. 
 I am my master's true confirmed love ; 
 But raimot be true servant to my master, 
 Unlf-ss I prove false traitor to myself. 
 Yet I will woo for him ; but yet so coldly, 
 As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. 
 
 Enter Silvia, a( tended. 
 
 Gentlewoman, good day ! I pray you, be my mean 
 To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia. 
 
 67/. VVhat would you with her, if that I be she ? 
 
 Jul. If you be she, 1 do entreat your patience 
 To hear me speak the message 1 am sent on. 
 
 67/. From whom ? 
 
 Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam. 
 
 Sil. O ! — he sends you for a picture ? 
 
 Jul. ,Ay, madam. 
 
 677. Ursula, bring my picture there. 
 
 {Picture broi'g'it.) 
 Go, give your master tins : tell him from me. 
 One Juiia, that his changing thoughts forget, 
 VVould better fit his chamber than this shadow. 
 
 Jul. M.idam, please you peruse this letter. 
 
 Pardon me, madam ; I have nnadvis'd 
 Delivered you a paper that I should not ; 
 Tiii-i is tile letter to your ladysiiip. 
 
 677. I pray thee, let me look on that again. 
 
 JiiJ. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. 
 
 Sd. 'I'heie, hold 
 1 will not look upon your master's lines: 
 I know they are stuff'd with protestations, 
 And full of newfound oaths; which he will break. 
 As easily as 1 do tear his paper. 
 
 Jid. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. 
 
 6//. I'he more shame for him that lie sends it tae ; 
 For, I have heard him say a thousand times. 
 His Julia gave it him at his departure: 
 'I'lioiigh his false finger hath profan'd the ring, 
 IVline shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
 
 Jul. She thanks you. 
 
 Sil. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Jul. I thank you, madam, that yon tender her: 
 Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much. 
 
 677. Diist thou know her? 
 
 Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself: 
 To think upon Iter woes , I do protest. 
 That I have wept an hundred several time.s. [her. 
 
 6/7. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook 
 
 Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of 
 
 677. Is .«he not passing fair? [sorrow. 
 
 Jul. S!ie hath been tairer, madam, than she is: 
 \\ lien she did tiiink my master lov'd her well, 
 Slie, in my .judgment, was as fair as you ; 
 But since she did neglect her looking-glass. 
 And threw her sun expelling mask away, 
 Tlie air hatii stai v'd tlie roses in her cheeks. 
 And piiich'd the liiy-tinctiire of her face, 
 Th it now she is become as black as I. 
 
 6//. How tall was she? 
 
 Jul. .About my stature: for, at Pentecost, 
 Win-n ail our pageants of deliglit were play'd. 
 Our yo'ifh «ot me to play the woman's part, 
 And I was trimm'd in iiiidam Jul a s gown ; 
 Which Sfiveil me as fit, by all men's judgment. 
 As it til!' g.inniiit had been made for inr ; 
 Tiierel.ire I know she is about my height. 
 And, ill til. II time, I madf her weep a good. 
 
 For I did play a lamentable part; 
 Madam, twas Ariadne, passioning 
 For Theseus' iiei.jiiry, and unjust flight; 
 W^hich I so lively acted witli my tears. 
 That my poor mistress, moved tiieiewithal, 
 Wept bitterly ; and, would I might be dead. 
 If I in thought felt not her very sorrow. 
 
 6//. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth ! — 
 Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left! — 
 I weep myself, to think upon tliy words. 
 Here, youth, there is my purse; I give tliee this 
 For tliy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'sther 
 Farewell. [Exit Sdvia 
 
 Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you 
 know her. 
 A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. 
 I hope my master's suit will be but cold, 
 Since she respects my mistress' love so much. 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 
 Here is her picture: let me see ; I think. 
 If 1 had such a tire, tliis face of mine 
 VV ere full as lovely as 's this of heis : 
 And yet the painter ilatter'd her a little. 
 Unless I flatter with myself too much. 
 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow : 
 If that be all the difference in his love, 
 I'll get me sucli a coloured periwig. 
 Her eyes are grey as glnss , and so are mine: 
 Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high 
 What should it be, that he respects in lier. 
 But I can make respective in myself. 
 If fliis fond love were not a blinded god? 
 Come, sliadow, come, and take tliis shadow np, 
 For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless iorni, 
 Tlioii siialt be worslniip'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd, 
 And, were tliere sensf in this idnhiti y, 
 My substance should be statue in thy stead. 
 I'll use thee kindly for thy misties.s' sake, 
 That us'd me so; or else, bv Jo\e, I vow 
 I should have sciatch'd out your uiiseeiiig eye.s. 
 To make my master out of love witli thee. [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. — The same. An Abbey. 
 Enter Egl.\mour. 
 Egl The sun begins to gild the western sky • 
 And now, it is about the very hour 
 That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me. 
 She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours. 
 Unless it be to come before their time ; 
 So much they spur their expedition. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 See where she comes : Lady, a happy evening f 
 
 Sil. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour ! 
 Out at tlie postern by the abbey-wall; 
 I frar I am attended by some spies. 
 
 Egl. Fear not : the forest is not three leagues off: 
 If we recover that, we are sure enough. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — The same. An Apartment in the 
 
 Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia. 
 
 Tku. Sir Proteus, what savs Silvia to my suit? 
 
 Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than slie was ; 
 And yet she takes exceptions at your persos. 
 
 Thu. What, that my leg is too long? 
 
 Pro. No; that it is too little. [rounder. 
 
 Thu. I'll wear a boot, to make it somevvhat 
 
 Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to wliat it loaths. 
 
 Tint. What says she to my face ? 
 
 Pro. Siie says, it is a fair one. 
 
 Thu. Nay, tlien the wanton lies ; my face is black. 
 
 Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, 
 Black men are pearls in beauteous ladii s" eves. 
 
 Jul. ' I'is true, such pearls as put out ladies' eves 
 Foi I had rather wink llian look on them. (Aside.} 
 
 Thu. How likes she my discourse ? 
 
 Pro. Ill, when yon talk of war. (pence? 
 
 7yi!«. But Well, when I discourse of luvc and 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 31 
 
 Jul. But better, indeed, whMi you hold your 
 peace. (Aside.) 
 
 Thu. Wliat says she to my valour? 
 Pro. O, sir, slie makes no doubt of that. 
 Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. 
 
 (Aside.J 
 Thu. What says she to my birth? 
 Pro. That you are well deriv'd. 
 Jul. True ; from a gentleman to a fool. (Aside.J 
 Thu. Considers she my possessions? 
 Pro. O. ay ; and pities them. 
 Thu Wherefore? 
 
 Jul. That such an ass should owe them. (Aside.J 
 Pro. That they are out by lease. 
 Jul. Here comes the duke. 
 
 Enter DuRi 
 
 Duke. How now, sir Proteus ! how now, Thurio .' 
 Wliich of you saw sir Eglamour of late? 
 
 Thu. Not l. 
 
 Pro. Nor I. 
 
 J)uhe. Saw you my daughter? 
 
 Pro. Neither. 
 
 Duke. Why, then she's fled unto that peasant 
 And Eglamour is in her company. [Valentine ; 
 
 'Tis true ; for friar Laurence met them both. 
 As he in penance wander'd through the forest : 
 Him he knew well, and guess'd tliat it was she ; 
 But, being mask'd, he was noisureof it: 
 Besides, she did intend confession 
 At Patrick's cell this even ; and there she was not: 
 These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. 
 Tlierefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse. 
 But mount you presently ; and meet with me 
 Upon the rising ofthe mountain-loot 
 TiiHt leads towards M^intua, wliither they are fled. 
 Des|)atcii, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [Exit. 
 
 Thu. VVIiy, tiiis it is to be a peevish girl. 
 That Hies iier tbrtune whrn it follows iier; 
 I'll alter, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour, 
 TInii for the love of reckless Silvia. [Exit. 
 
 Pro. And I will follow more lor Silvia's love, 
 TliHii hate of Eglamour that goes with her. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. \u<\ I will follow, more to cross that love. 
 Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest. 
 
 Enter SiLVU. and Outlaws. 
 
 1 Out. Come, come ; 
 
 Be patient, we must bring you to our captain. 
 
 Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one 
 Have leanid me how to brook this patieutly. 
 
 2 Out. Come, bring her away. 
 
 1 Out. Wiiereislhegentleman that was with her? 
 
 3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us. 
 But Moyses, and Valerius, (bllovv him. 
 
 Go thou with her to the west end ofthe wood. 
 There is our captain: we'll follow him that's tied : 
 The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape. [cave : 
 
 1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's 
 Fear not ; he bears au honourable n>ind. 
 And ^vill not use a woman lawlessly. 
 
 Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — Another part ofthe Forest. 
 Enter Valentine. 
 Vol. How use doth breed a habit in a man! 
 This siiadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
 I better brook than flourishing peopled towns : 
 Here can I sit alone, imseen of any, 
 Anil, to the nightingale's complaining notes. 
 Tune my distresses, and record ray woes. 
 O tliou that dost inhabit in»my breast. 
 Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ; 
 Lest, growing ruinous, the building lall, 
 And leave no memory of what it vyas ! 
 Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
 Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn SAvain ! 
 Wliat hallooing, and what stir, is this to-day ? 
 These are my mates, that make their wills ilieir law. 
 
 Have some unhappy passenger in chase : 
 'i'hey love me well : yet 1 have much to do, 
 'J'o keep them from uncivil outrages. 
 Withdraw thee, Valentine ; who's this comes here? 
 
 [Steps aside 
 
 Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Jllia. 
 
 Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, 
 (Though you respect not aught your servant duth,; 
 To hazard life, and rescue you from him 
 'I'hat would have forc'd your honour and your love 
 Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one lair look ; 
 A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, 
 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
 
 Val. How like a dream is tiiis 1 see and hear! 
 Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. {Aside.) 
 Su. O miserable, unhappy that I am ! 
 Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; 
 But, by my coming, I have niiide you happy. 
 
 Sil. By thy approach thou niak'st me most unhappy. 
 Jul. And tne, when he approacheth to your pre- 
 sence, i Aside. ^ 
 Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, 
 I would have been a breakfast for the beast. 
 Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. 
 O, heaven be judge, how I love Valentine, 
 Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ; 
 And full as much, (for more there cannot be,) 
 I do detest false perjur'd Proteus : 
 Therefore be gone, solicit n;e no more. 
 
 Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death. 
 Would I not undergo for one calm look ? 
 O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd. 
 When women cannot love where they're belov'd. 
 
 Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd. 
 Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love. 
 For whose dear s:ike thou didst then rend thy faith 
 Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths 
 Descended info perjury, to love me. 
 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou had'st twq 
 And that's far worse than none ; better have none 
 'ihan plural faith, which is loo much by one : 
 Thou counterfeit to thy true friend J 
 
 Pro. In love^ 
 
 Who respects friends ? 
 Sil. All men but Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words 
 Can no way change you to a milder form, 
 I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ; 
 And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you. 
 Sii. O heaven ! 
 
 Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. 
 
 Val. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; 
 Thou friend of an ill fashion! 
 
 Pro. Valentine ! [lore ; 
 
 Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or 
 (For such is a friend now,) treacherous man ! 
 Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye 
 Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say, 
 1 have one friend alive; tliou vvouM'st disprove ine. ' 
 VVlio should be trusted now, when one's right hand 
 Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus, 
 I am sorry I must never trust thee more, 
 But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
 The private wound is deepest : O time, most cnrst! 
 'iMongst all foes, that a friend should be the wotst! 
 
 Pro. My shime and guilt, confound me. — 
 Foigi\e me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow 
 Be a sufficient ransom for offence, 
 I tender it here ; I <loas truly sutler. 
 As e'er I did commit. 
 
 Val. Then I am paid ; 
 
 And once again I do leceive thee honest : — • 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied, 
 Is not of heaven, nor eaitli ; lor these are pleas'd j 
 By penitence the Etern.d's wratii's appeas'il : — 
 Anrl, that my love may appear plain ,ind iV-ee, 
 All Ihnt was mine in Silvia Igive thee. 
 
 ////. O me, unhappy ! (Faints.) 
 
 Pro. Look to the boy. 
 
32 
 
 T"\70 GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Acr V, 
 
 Val. ^V^ly, boy ! why, waj? ! how now ? what is 
 Look up ; speak. [tlit matter ? 
 
 Jul. O gocid sir, my master chaig'il me 
 
 S'o deliver a rinn to ina<l;iin Silvia ; 
 VVhicli, out oi' my iiei;lect, was never done. 
 
 Pro. Where is tiiiit riiiu, hoy V 
 
 Jul. Here 'tis ; this is it. {Gives a rins ) 
 
 Pro. How I let me see ; 
 vVliy this is the ring I gave to Jnlia. 
 
 Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook. 
 This is the ring you sent to SiKia. 
 
 {Shews -motker ring ) 
 
 Pro. But how cam'st thou hy this -ing? at my 
 I gave it unto Julia. -. [depart, 
 
 Jul. And Julia herself did give it me , 
 And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 
 
 Pro. Howl Julia ! 
 
 Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all tliy oaths, 
 And entertain'd them deeply in her h-^art : 
 How oil hast thou with i)erjury cleft IIk root? 
 O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ; 
 Bethouasliani'd, that I have took upon me 
 Such an immodest raiment; ifjhame hve 
 In a disguise of love : 
 
 it is the lesser blot, modesty finds, [minds. 
 
 \Vonien to change their shapes, than men their 
 
 Pro. Than men their minds ! "tis true ; ') heaven ! 
 were man 
 But constant, he were perfect : that one error Isins ; 
 Fills him with faults ; makes him run through all 
 Inconstancy falls olf, ere it begins: 
 What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy 
 Wore fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ? 
 Val. Come, come, a hand from either: 
 Let me be blest to make this happy close ; 
 Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. 
 
 Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for 
 
 Jul. And I have mine. [ever. 
 
 Enter Outlaws, tvith Duke and Thurio. 
 
 Out. A prize, a prize, a prize ! 
 
 Val. Forbear, Isay : it is my lord the duke, 
 /our grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, 
 ^diiish'd Valentine. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine ! 
 
 Tnu. Yonder is Silvia; ; and Silvia's mine. 
 
 Val. Thurio, give back, orelse embrace thy r^ealli; 
 Come not within the measure of my wrath: 
 
 Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again, 
 IMiUn shall not behold thee. Here she st.uids. 
 Take but pos'^essiori of her with a tiiui h ; — 
 1 daie the^ hut to breathe upon my love. — 
 
 Thif- Sir V^alentiue, 1 care not iiir her, 1 ; 
 I hold him but a fool, that will endanger 
 His body for a girl, that loves him not. 
 I claim iier not, and therefore she is thine. 
 
 Duke. The more degenerate and base ait thou, 
 To make such means for her as thou hast done, 
 And leave heron such slight conditions. — 
 Now, by tile honour of my ancestry, 
 I do apjjiaud thy spirit, Valentine, 
 And tiiink thee worthy of an empres.s' love. 
 Know, then, I here forget all former griefs. 
 Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.— > 
 Plead a new state in thy tmrivall'd merit. 
 To wliich I tlms subscribe, — sir Valentine, 
 Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ; 
 Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deser\'d her. 
 
 Vol. I thank your grace ; the gift hath made me 
 happy. 
 I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, 
 To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. 
 
 Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. 
 
 Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal, 
 Are men, endued with worthy qualities; 
 Forgive them what they have committed here. 
 And let them be recall'd from their exile : 
 'I'hey are reformed, civil, full oi'good. 
 And fit for great em|)loyment, worthy lord. [thee ; 
 
 Duke. Thou hast prevail'd: I pardon them and 
 Dispose of them, as tiiou know'st their deserts. 
 Come, let us go ; we will include all jars 
 With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. 
 
 Val. And as we walk along, I dare be bold 
 With our discourse to make your grace to smile : 
 What think you of this page, my lord ? [blushes. 
 
 Duke. I think the boy hath grace in I'im ; he 
 
 Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy 
 
 Duke. What mean you by that saying ? 
 
 Val. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass ale vg. 
 That you will wonder what hath fortuned. — 
 Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance, but to hear 
 The story of your loves discovered : 
 That done, our day of marriage shall be yours : 
 One feast, one house, one mutual iiappiuess. [Ex 
 
!zi 
 W 
 
 O 
 
 Q 
 
 O 
 
 '"I 
 P4 
 
 Q 
 
Of tills play (Iiere is a tradition preserved by Mr. Uowe, lliat it was writlen at tlie cummand of Queen Elizabeth, 
 who was sn delighted with the charactt-r of Falstatf, that she wished it lo be diffiiseU through more plays; but suspecting 
 Iliat it niiijht pall by continued unitorinity, direited Ihe poet to diversify his manner, Dy shewing him in love. No 
 (ask is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew «liHt the queen, if the story be true, 
 seems not lo have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish crnf;, Ihe careless jcllily, and the lazy 
 lUMiry of Falsiart" must have suli'i red so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstnil 
 could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaif. H* could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompled, 
 not by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approaihed as near a< he could to the work enjoined 
 liin; yet having perhaps in the former plays completed his own idea, seems not lo have been able to give FalstalT 
 all his former power of entertainment. 
 
 This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, who exhibit more characters appropri- 
 ated and discriminated, than perhaps can be found in any other play. 
 
 Whether Shakspeare was the lirst that produced upon Ihe English .stage the effect of language distorted and depraved 
 by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly decide. This mode of forming riiiiculuus charaiteis can 
 confer praise only on him who originally discovered it. for it requires not much of either wit or .judgment; its 
 success must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a sltilfjl mouth, even he that despises it 
 is unable to resist. 
 
 The conduct of this drama is deficient; Ihe action besins and ends often, before the conclusion, and the different 
 parts might change places wilhoiit inconvenience : but its general power, that power by which all works of genius shall 
 finally be tried, is such, that perhaps it never yet had reader or spectator who did not think it too soon at the end. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 
 
 FKNTON. 
 
 SHALLOW, n country Jnsticf. 
 
 SLENDEU, Cousin lo Shallow. 
 
 Mr PACK 1 tV'^o Gentlemen (livei'ing at Win<lsor. 
 WILLI.ABl I'AGE. a Boy. Son In Mr. Page. 
 jIR HUUH EVANS, a Welch Fnrson. 
 Dr. CAIUS, a French Physician. 
 Host of the Garter Inn. 
 
 BARDOLPH,— PISTOL,— NYM, Followers (\f Fahtaff. 
 
 ROBIV. Puge to FALSTAFF. 
 
 SIMPLE, Sirvant to Slender. 
 
 RUGBY. Servant to Dr. Cains. 
 
 Mrs. FORI). 
 
 Mrs. PAGE. 
 
 Mrs. ANNE PAGE, her Dnvqhter, in love with Fenton. 
 
 ftirs QUICKLY, Serrant to Dr. Cains. 
 
 Servants to Page, Ford, etc. 
 
 Scene, — TVhidsor, and the Parts adjacent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Windsor. Before Paye's House. 
 
 Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and Sir Hugh 
 Evans. 
 
 Shnl. Sir Hiioli, persuade me not ; I will make 
 a Star-chamber matter of it : if lie were twenty sir 
 John Fulstatfs, lie shall not abuse Robert Shallow, 
 esquire. 
 
 Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, 
 and coram. 
 
 Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum. 
 
 Sleti. Ay, and ratolorum too ; and a gentleman 
 born, master parson ; who writes himself «rw//i/ero; 
 in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armi- 
 <jero. 
 
 SJial. Ay, that we do ; and have done any time 
 these three hundred years. 
 
 Slen. All his succe.ssors, gone before him, have 
 done't ; and all his ancestors, that come after him, 
 may : they may give the dozen white luces in their 
 
 Shal. It is an old coat. [coat. 
 
 Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old 
 coat well ; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar 
 bea.st to man, and signifies — love. 
 
 Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is 
 an old coat. 
 
 Slen. I may quarter, coz? 
 
 Shal. You may, by marrying. 
 
 Eva. It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it. 
 
 Shal. Not a whit. 
 
 Eva. Ye.s, py'r lady ; if he has a quarter of your 
 coat, there is but tliree skirts for yourself, in my 
 .simple conjectures : but this is all one : if sir John 
 Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, 
 I am of the church, and will be glad to do my be- 
 nevolence, to make atonements and compromises 
 between you. 
 
 Shal. Tlie Council shall hear it : it is a riot. 
 
 Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot ; 
 there is no fear of Got in a riot : the Council, look 
 you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not 
 to hear a riot ; take your vizametits in that. 
 
 Shal. Ha! o" my life, if I were youni; again, the 
 sword should end it. 
 
 Kva. It is petter tiiat friends is the sword, and 
 end it ; and there is another device in my prain, 
 which, perailventiire, prings goot discretions with 
 it : there is Anne Page, which is daughter to 
 master George Page, which is pretty virginity. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne Page ? She has brown hair, 
 and speaks small like a woman. 
 
 Eva. It is that fery verson for all the 'orld, as 
 just as you will desire ; and seven hundred pounds 
 of monies, and gold, and silver, is htr grandsire, 
 upon his death's-bed, ( Got deliver to a joyful 
 resurrections!) give, when she is able to overtake 
 seventeen years old : it were a goot motion, if we 
 leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a 
 marriage between master Abraham, and mistress 
 Anne Page. [pound? 
 
 Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred 
 
 Eva. Ay, and her father is make her a [letter penny, 
 
 Shal. I know the young gentlewoman; she has 
 good gifts. 
 
 Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, 
 is good gifts. 
 
 Shal. Well, let ns see honest master Page : i.s 
 Falstaft" there '! 
 
 Eva. Shall 1 tell you a lie ? I do despise a liar, 
 as I do despise one that is false : or, as I despise 
 one that is not true. The knight, sir John, is 
 there ; and I beseech you, be ruled by your well- 
 willers. I will peat the door [knocks] for master- 
 Page. What, hoa .' Got pless your house here ! 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. Who's there ? 
 
 Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and 
 justice Shallow : and here young master Slender: 
 that, peradventures, shall tell you another tale, ii 
 matters grow to your likings. 
 
 Page. I am glad to see your worships well : 1 
 thank you for my venison, master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. Master Page, I am glad io see rou ; much 
 good do it your good heart ! I wished your venisou' 
 better; it was ill killed : — How doth good mistress 
 Page ? — and I love you always with my heart, la 
 
 Page. Sir, I thank you. [with my heart 
 
 Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do, 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Hfiijt. I am gidd see yon, good master Slender. 
 
 Slen. How does your tallow greyhound, sir? I 
 heiir.l s;»y, he was oiit-riiii on Cotsale. 
 
 Pnrje. It could not be judged, sir. 
 
 Slf7i. V ou'll not confVss, you 11 not confess. 
 
 Slial. Tuat he will not; — "tis your fault, "lis your 
 ault : — "tis a good dog. 
 
 Pafje. A cur, sir. 
 
 S/ia/. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; can 
 there he more said V he is good, and fair. — Is sir 
 John FalstafF here ? 
 
 Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could do 
 a pood office between you. 
 
 Eva. It is s, oke as a Christians ought to speak. 
 
 S/ial. He hath wrong'd me, master Page. 
 
 Paye. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it 
 
 S/ial. If it be confess'd, it is not redress"d ; is not 
 that so, master Page? He hath wrong'd me; in- 
 deed, he hath ; — at k word he hath ; — believe me ; — 
 Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is vvroiig'd. 
 
 Page. Here comes sir John. 
 
 /"Jw^er SjV John Falst AFP, Bardolph, Mym, and 
 Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Now, master Shallow ; you'll complain of 
 •JMe to tjie king ! 
 
 Shal. Knifiiit, you have beaten my men, killed 
 ,i«y deer, and broke open my lodge. 
 
 'Pal. But not kiss'd your keeper's daiigliter? 
 
 Shal. Tut, a pin ! this shall be answer'd. 
 
 Fal. I will answer it straight; — I have done all 
 this : — tljat is now answer'd. 
 
 Shal. 'I'iie Council shall know tiiis. 
 
 Fal. 'Twere better i'or you, if it were known in 
 counsel : you'll be laugh'd at. 
 
 Eva. Pauca verba, sir John, goot worts. 
 
 Fal. Good worts ! good cabbage. — Slender, I 
 broke your head ; what matter have you against me ? 
 
 Sle7i. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against 
 you ; and against your coney-catching rascals, Bar- 
 dolph, Nym, and Pistol. They cirried me to the 
 tavern, and made me drunk, and afterwards picked 
 my pocket. 
 
 Bard. You Banbury cheeas ! 
 
 Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 
 
 Pist. How now, Mephustophilus? 
 
 Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 
 
 Nym. Slice, I say ! pauca, pauca ; slice ! that's 
 my humour. [cousin ? 
 
 Sien. Where's Simple, my man ? — can you tell, 
 
 Era. Peace : I pray you ! Now let us under- 
 stand • there is three umpires in this matter, as I 
 understand : that is — master Pagfyjidelicet, master 
 Paj^e; and there is wyaeW, Jidelicet, myselt ; and 
 liie three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of 
 thj Garter. [them. 
 
 Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between 
 
 Eva. Ferry goot : I will make a prief of it in my 
 ote-book; and we will afterwards 'ork upon the 
 cause, with as great discreetly as we can. 
 
 Fal. Pistol,— 
 
 Pist. He hears with ears. 
 
 Eva. The tevil and his tam ! what phrase is this. 
 He hears with ears? Why, it is atfectations, 
 
 Fal. Pistol, did you pick master Slender's purse ? 
 
 Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, (or I would I 
 might never come in mine own great chamber again 
 else,) of seven groats in mill sixpences, and two 
 Edward shovel boards, that cost me two shilling and 
 two pence apiece of Vead Miller, by these gloyes. 
 
 Fal. Is this true, Pistol? 
 
 Eva. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. 
 
 Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner I — Sir John and 
 master mine, 
 .1 combat challenge of this latten bttbo: 
 Word of denial in thy labras here ; 
 Word of denial : froth and scum, thou liest. 
 
 Slen. By these gloves, then 'twas he. 
 
 Nym. Be advis'd, sir, and pass good humours; I 
 will say, marry trap, with you, if you run the nut- 
 
 hook's humour on me; that is the very note of it 
 
 Slen. By tiiis hat, tlien he in the red face had it: 
 for though 1 cannot remember what I did when you 
 made n\f drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. 
 
 Fal. What s.iy yon. Scarlet ami Jolin ? 
 
 Bard. Wliy, sir, for my part, 1 say, the genlle- 
 mai) had druuk liiuiselt out of his five sentences. 
 
 Eva. It is his live senses: fie, what the ignorance is' 
 
 Bard. -And being tap, sir, was, as tliey say, ca- 
 sliier'd ; ;)nd so conclusions pass'd the careires. 
 
 Slen. Ay, you Sjiake in Latin then too; but 'tis 
 no matter: I'll ne'er be drunk whilst 1 live again, 
 but in honest, civil, godly ccmipany, lor this trick 
 if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those tiiut have 
 the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. 
 
 Eva. So God 'udge me, that is a virtuous mind. 
 
 Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentle- 
 men ; you hear it. 
 
 Filter Mistress Anne Page, loith wine; Mistreat 
 FoKD and Mistress Page following. 
 
 Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in : we'll 
 drink within. [Exit Anne Page. 
 
 Slen. O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page. 
 
 Page. Hovv now, mistress Ford ? 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well 
 met : by your leave, good tMstre t<s.[Kissing her.) 
 
 Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome : — 
 Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come, 
 gentlemen, I hope we siiull drink down all unkind- 
 ness. \ Exeunt all but Shal. Slen. and Evans. 
 
 Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, 1 had my 
 book of Songs and Sonnets here : — 
 
 Enter Simple. 
 
 How now. Simple ! Where have you been ? I must 
 wait <m myself, must I ? You have not The Book 
 of Riddles about you, have you ? 
 
 Sim. Book of Riddles '. wliy, did you not lend it 
 to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowinas last, a iort- 
 night afore Michaelmas ? 
 
 Shal. Come, coz ; come, coz ; we stay for you. 
 X word with you, coz: marry, tliis, coz : there is. 
 as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off 
 by sir Hugh here; — do you understand me? 
 
 Sle)i. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable ; if it 
 be so, I shall do tliat that is reason. 
 
 Shal. Nay, but understand me. 
 
 Slen. So i do, sir. 
 
 Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender. I 
 will description the matter to you, if you be capacity 
 ofiL 
 
 Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says ; 
 I pray you, pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in 
 his country, simple though I stand here. 
 
 Eva. But this is not the question ; the question 
 is concerning your marriage. 
 
 Shal. .\y, there's the point, sir. 
 
 Eva. Marry, is it; the very point of it; to mistress 
 Anne Page. 
 
 Slen. Why, if it be so, I will raairy her, upon 
 any reasonable demands. 
 
 Eva. But can you ati'ection the 'oman ? Jjet us 
 command to know that of yo-ir mouth, or of your 
 lips; for divers philosophers hold, that the lips is 
 parcel of the mouth ; — Iherelbre, precisely, can 
 you carry your good will to the maid ? 
 
 Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, canyon love her? 
 
 Slen. I hope, sir, — I will do. as it shall become 
 one that would do reason. 
 
 Eva. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies, you must 
 speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires 
 towards her. 
 
 Shal. That you must : will you, upon good 
 dowry, marry her ? 
 
 Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, upon 
 your request, cousin, in any reason. 
 
 Shal. Nay, conceive me. conceive me, sweet 
 coz ; what I do. is to pleasure you, coz : can you 
 love the maid? 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 35 
 
 Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request: but 
 iflliLiv be no gieiit luxe in the beginning-, yet hea- 
 ven may decrease it npon better acquaintance, when 
 we are married, anJ have more occasion to know one 
 nni)ther: 1 liope, ii[)Oii tainiharity will grow more 
 contempt; but if you say, marry her, I will marry 
 er, tliat i am I'reely d.ssolved, and dissolutely. 
 
 hva. It IS a feiy discretion answer; save, the 
 aiil IS ill t'ne "ort dissuliitely : the 'ort is, according 
 o our meanmg, resolirtely ; — his meaning is good. 
 
 Shal. Ay, 1 think my cousin meant well. 
 
 Sien. Ay, or else 1 would I might be hanged, la. 
 
 Re enter AvNE Page. 
 
 Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne : — Would 
 I Were young, for your sake, mistress Anne! 
 
 Anne, 'i'lie dinner is on the table ; my father 
 desires your worsiiips' company. 
 
 Shal. I \vill wait on him, fair mistress Anne. 
 
 Eva. Oil's plessed will ! I will not be absence at 
 tlie grace. [Exeunt Shal. and Sir H. Evans. 
 
 Anne. WilTt please your worship to come in, sir? 
 
 Slen. No, I thank yon, forsootii, heartily ; I am 
 
 Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. [very well. 
 
 S(en. 1 am not a-hungry, 1 tliank you, iorsooth. 
 
 o, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon 
 
 y cousin Shallow: [Exit Simple.] A justice of 
 
 peace sometime may be beholden to his friend lor 
 
 a man: — 1 keep but three men and a boy yet, till 
 
 my mother be dead: but what though? yet I live 
 
 like a poor gentleman born. 
 
 Anne. 1 may not go in without your worsiiip : 
 thev would not sit till you come. 
 
 ^len. J'faith, I'll eat nothing : I thank you as 
 much as though 1 did. 
 
 Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. 
 
 Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you; I 
 bruised my siiin the other day with playing at sword 
 and dagger with a master of fence, three veneys 
 for a dish of .«tewf d prunes; and, by my troth, J 
 cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Wliy do 
 your dugs bark so ? be there bears i' the town \ [of. 
 
 Anne. I think there are, sir; [ hearil them talked 
 
 Slen. I love the sport well : but I shall as soon 
 quarrel at it, as any man in England: — you are 
 afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not ? 
 
 Anne. Ay, indeed, sir. 
 
 Slen. 'Uiat's meat and drink to me now : I have 
 seen .Sackerson loose, twenty time.? ; and have taken 
 him by the chain : but, I warrant you, the women 
 liaxe so cried and shriek'd at it, that it pass'd :— but 
 women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill- 
 favoured rough things. 
 
 Re-enter Page. 
 
 Parje. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we 
 stay tor you. 
 
 Slen. I'll eat nothing, 1 thank you, sir. 
 
 Page. By cock and pye, you shall not choose, 
 sir : come, come. 
 
 Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. 
 
 Paije. Come on, sir. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. 
 
 Anne. Not I, sir; pray you, keep on. 
 
 Slen. Trnly, I will not go first ; truly, la: I will 
 not do you that wroig. 
 
 Anne. I |)ray you, sir. 
 
 Slen. Ill rather be unniannerly than troublesome ; 
 ou do yourself wrong, indeed, la. iExeimt. 
 
 Scene \\.~The same. 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans awrf Simple. 
 Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Cains' 
 inse, which is the way : and there dwells one mi.s- 
 ress Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, 
 ir his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his 
 washer, and his wringer. 
 Simp. Well, sir. 
 
 Eva. Nay, it is petter yet :— give her this letter ; 
 for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with 
 
 mistres.i Anne Page: and the letter is to desiie and 
 require her to solicit your master's desires to mis- 
 tress Anne Page : I pray you, begone : I will make 
 au end of my aiuner; there's pippins and cheese to 
 come. t Exeunt 
 
 Scene II I. — A Room in the Garter Inn. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, 
 and Robin. 
 
 Fal Mine host of the Garter,— 
 
 Host. What says my bully-rook ? Speak scho- 
 larly, and wisely. [of my followers. 
 
 Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some 
 
 Host. Discard, bully Hercules; casliier : let them 
 wag ; trot, trot. 
 
 Fal. I sit at ten pounds a week 
 
 Host. Thou'rt an emperor, Cassar, Keisar, and 
 Pheezar. 1 will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw, 
 he shall tap ; said 1 well, bully Hector? 
 
 Fal. Do so, good mine host. 
 
 Hont. I have spoke; let him follow : let me see 
 thee froth, and lime : I am at a word ; follow. 
 
 [Exit Host. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, follow him; a tapster is a good 
 trade : an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered 
 serving-man, a fresh tapster go ; adieu. 
 
 Bard. It is a life that 1 have desired; I will 
 thrive. [Exit Bard. 
 
 Pist. O base Gongarian wight' wilt thou the 
 spigot wield ? 
 
 Nf/in. He was gotten in drink : is not the hurnonr 
 conceited V His mind is not heroic, and there's the 
 humour of it 
 
 Fal. I am glad, I am so acquit of this tinder- 
 box ; his thelYs we^-e too open ; Ins filching was like 
 an unskilful singer, he kept not time. [rest. 
 
 Nym. The good humour is, to steal at a minute's 
 
 Pis. Convey, the wise it call : steal ! foh ; a fico 
 for the phrase ! 
 
 Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. 
 
 Pi:it. VVhy then, let kibes ensue. 
 
 Fal. There is lio remedy; 1 must coney-catch; 
 ! must shift. 
 
 Pist. Young ravens must have food. 
 
 Fa2. Which of you know Ford of this town? 
 
 Pist. 1 ken the wight; he is of substance good. 
 
 Fal. IVIy honest lads, I will tell you what I am 
 
 Pist. Two yards, and more. [about. 
 
 Fal. No quips now. Pistol : indeed I am in the 
 waist two yards about : but I am now about no waste; 
 I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love 
 to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment in her; she dis- 
 courses, she car\ es, she gives the leer of in\ itation : 
 I can construe the action of her familiar style ; and 
 the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be Englishd 
 rightly, is, 1 am sir John Falstaff's. 
 
 Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated 
 her well; out of honesty into English. [pass? 
 
 Ny7n. The anchor is deep ; will that humou 
 
 Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule 
 of her husband's purse; she hath legions of angels 
 
 Pist. As many devils entertain ; and, To her, boy, 
 say r. [nie the angels. 
 
 Nym. The humour rises ; it is good : humour 
 
 Fal. 1 have writ me here a letter to her : and 
 here another to Page's wife ; who even now gave 
 me good eyes too, exainin'd my part." with most 
 judicious eyelids : sometimes the beam of her view 
 gilded my foot, sometimes my portly belly. 
 
 Pist. Then did the sun on dung-hilt shine. 
 
 Nym. I thank thee for that humour. 
 
 Fal. O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with 
 such a greedy intention, that the appetite of het 
 eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning glass 
 Here's another letter to her: she bears the purse 
 too ; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. 
 I will be cheater to them both, and they shall be 
 exchequers to me ; they shall be my East and West 
 Indies, am? I will trade to them both. Go, beai 
 
36 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 thou tliis letter tu mistress Page ; and tboii this to 
 mistress Ford : we will thrive, lads, we will thrive. 
 
 Pist. Shiill 1 sir Paiidarus of Troy become, 
 And by my side wear steel? then, Lucifer take ail ! 
 
 Nym. 1 will run no base humour ; here, take the 
 humour letter ; 1 will keep the 'haviour of reputation. 
 
 Fed. Hold, sirrfdi, {to Rob.) bear you these let- 
 ters tightly ; 
 Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — 
 Ungues, hence, avannt ! vanish like hail-stones, go ; 
 'I'rudge, plod, away, o' the houf ; seek shelter, pack I 
 Falstatl' will learn the humour of this age, 
 French thrift, you rogues ; mvself, ami skirted page. 
 [Exeunt Ful. and Robin. 
 
 Ptst. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and 
 fullam hiilds. 
 And high and low beguile the rich and poor." 
 Tester I'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack, 
 Base Phrygian Turk ! 
 
 Ni/m. I have operations in my head, which be 
 humours of revenge. 
 
 Pist. Wilt thou revenge ? 
 
 Niftn. By welkin, and her star! 
 
 Pint. With ivil, or steel ';' 
 
 Nytn. With both the humours. I : 
 
 I will discuss the humour of tliis love to Page. 
 
 Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold. 
 How Fidstatr, varlet vile, 
 His dove will prove, his gold wi!l hold. 
 And his soft couch defile. 
 
 Ni/tn. My humour shall not cool : I will incense 
 Page to deal with poison; I will possess him with 
 yellowness, for tiie revolt of mien is dangerous : that 
 IS my true humour. 
 
 Pist. Thou art the Mans of malcontents : I se- 
 cond thee ; troop on. [Exemit. 
 
 Scene I V. — A Room in Dr.Vaius' House. 
 
 Enter 31istress Quickly, Si.mple, and Rugby. 
 
 Quick. What: John Rugby! — I pray thee, go 
 to the casement, and see if you can see my master, 
 master Doctor Caius, coming : if he ilo, i'laith, and 
 find any body in the house, here will be an old 
 abusing of God's patience, and tlie king's English. 
 
 Rug. I II go watch. [Exit Rugby. 
 
 Quick. Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soun at 
 niglit, in faith, at the latter end of a seacual fire. 
 An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant 
 shall come in house withal; and, I warrant you, no 
 tell-tale, nor no breed-bate; his worst fault is, that 
 he is given to prayer; he is something peevish that 
 way: but nobody but has his tault;^— but let that 
 pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is '? 
 
 Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. 
 
 Quick. And master Slender's your master'? 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsooth. 
 
 Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, 
 like a glover's paring knife ? 
 
 Sim. No, forsooth : he hath but a little wee face, 
 with a little yellow beard; a Cain -coloured beard. 
 
 Quick. A softly-spiighted man, is he not"? 
 
 Sun. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tail a man of his 
 hands, as any is between this and his head ; he hath 
 fought with a warrener. 
 
 Quick. How say you '? — O, I should remember 
 him ? Di:es he not hold up his head, as it were'? and 
 strut in his gait"? 
 
 Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. 
 
 Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse 
 fortune ! Tell master parson Evans, 1 will do what 
 I can lor your master: Anne is a good girl, and I 
 wish — 
 
 Re-enter Rugby. 
 
 Ru(j. Out, alas ! here come-? my master. 
 
 Quick. We shall all be shent : run in here, good 
 young man; go into this' clcset. (S/iuts Simple in 
 the closet) He will nut stay loni;.— Wdat, John 
 Rugby ! John, what, John, I say I — (io, John, go 
 enquire for my master; I doubt! he be not .\ell. 
 
 that he comes not home : — and doivit, dovm, ad- len- 
 a, &c. [Sinys.) 
 
 Enter Doctor Caih.S. 
 
 Caius. Vat is you sing '? I do not like dese toys ; 
 Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet un boitier 
 vera; a box, a green-a box ; do intend vat I speak ? 
 a green-a box. 
 
 Quick. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad 
 he went not in himself: if he had found the young 
 man, he would have been horn-mad. [Aside.) 
 
 Caius. Fe.fe fe.J'e. tnaj'oi, ilfnitfort ckaua. 
 Je vien vais a la Cour, — la grande affaire. 
 
 Quick. Is it this, sir '? 
 
 Caius. Ouy : mette /e «m ?Kon pocket; depeche 
 quickly : — Vere is dat knave Rugby"? 
 
 Quick. What, John Rugby ! John ! 
 
 Rug. Here, sir. 
 
 Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack 
 Rugby : come, take-a your rapier, and come after 
 my heel to de court. 
 
 Rucf. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. 
 
 Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long: — Od's me! 
 Qu'ay j oublief dere is some simples in my closet, 
 dat 1 will not for the varld 1 shall leave behind. 
 
 Quick. Ah me ! he'll find the young man there, 
 and be mad ! 
 
 Cains. diable, diable ! vat is in my closet? — 
 Villainy ! larronl [Pulling Simple out.) Rugby, my 
 
 Quick. Good master, be content. [rapier. 
 
 (.'aius. Verefore shall I be content-a? 
 
 Quick. The young man is an honest man. 
 
 Caius. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet? 
 dere is no honest man dat shall come iif iny closet. 
 
 Quick. I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic ; hear 
 the truth of it : he came of an errand to- me from 
 
 Caius. Veil. [parson Hugh. 
 
 Sim. Ay, Ibrsooth, to desire her to — 
 
 Quick. Peace, I pray you. 
 
 Caius. Peace-a your tongue : — Speak-a your tale. 
 
 Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your 
 maid, to speak a good word to Mrs. Anne Page for 
 my master, in the way of marriage. 
 
 Quick. Tnis is all, indeed, la ; but I'll ne'er put 
 my finger in the fire, and need mit. 
 
 Caius. Sir Hugh seud-a you"? — Rugby, baillez 
 me sinie paper: tarry you a littlea while. [IT rites.") 
 
 Quick. I am glad he is so quit t : if he had been 
 thoroughly moved, you should have heard hiui so 
 loud, and so melancholy ; — but notwithstanding, 
 man, I'll do your master what good I can : and the 
 very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my mas- 
 ter, — I may call him my master, look you, for I 
 keeji his house ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, 
 scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and 
 do all myself: — Lhand. 
 
 Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under one body's 
 
 Quick. Are you avis'd o' that? you shall find it a 
 great charge : and to be up early and down late ; — 
 but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your ear: I 
 would have no words of it;) my master himself is 
 in love with mistress Anne Page : but notwithstand- 
 ing that, — I know Anne's mind, — that's neither 
 here nor there. 
 
 Caius. \o» jack 'nape; give-a dis letter to sir 
 Hugh ; by gar, it is a shalienge ; I will cut his troat 
 in de park ; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape 
 priest to meddle or make: — you may be gone ; it is 
 not good you tarry here : — by gar, I will cut all his 
 two stones ; by gar, he shall not have a stone to trow 
 at his dog. [Exit Simple. 
 
 Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. 
 
 Cains. !t is no matter-a for dat; — do not you 
 tell-a me dat I shall have Amie Page lor myself? — 
 by gar, I vill kill de Jack Priest; and I have ap 
 pointed mine host of de Jarterre to measure our 
 weai on : — by gar, I vill myseif have Anne Page. 
 
 Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be 
 well : ue must give folks leave to prate : what, tbt> 
 good-jer ! 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 37 
 
 Cr"'i/s. Rugby, come to de court vit me : — By 
 (f;ir it I liave not Anne Page, I shall tiiin your liead 
 out of my door : — Follow my lieels. llnsby. 
 
 [Exetaii Cnius and Rurjbif. 
 
 Quick. V'ou shall ha\e An iools head ofyonroun. 
 No, I know Anne's mind Cor that: never a uoman in 
 Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do; 
 jior can do more ihan I do with her, I thank heaven. 
 
 Fen t. [Within.) Who's within there, ho? 
 
 Quick. Who's there, I trow? Come near the 
 fioiise, I pray you. 
 
 Enter Fenton. 
 
 Fen. How now, ffood woman ; how dost fiioii ? 
 
 Quick. The better, that it pleases your good 
 worshif) to ask. [Anne? 
 
 Feti. What news ? iiow does pretty mistress 
 
 Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, 
 and gentle; and one tiiat is your friend, I can tell 
 yon tlu'.t by the way; I praise heaven for it. 
 
 Feni. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou? Shall 
 t not lose my suit ? 
 
 Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above : but 
 iiotwilhstandiiig, master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a 
 book, she loves you: — have not your worship a 
 wart above your eye ? 
 
 Fent. Yes, marry, have I; what of that? 
 
 Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale; — good faith, 
 it is such another Nan : — but. I detest, an honest 
 maid as ever broke bread : — we had an ho-.ir's talk 
 of that wart: — I shall never laugh but in that 
 maid's company 1 But, indeed, she is given too 
 much to ailiciiolly, and musing : but for yon — 
 Well, go to. 
 
 Fent Well, I shall see her to-day ; hold, there's 
 niotiey for tlvee ; let me have thy voice in my behalf: 
 if IJKHi seest her beloie me, commend me — 
 
 Quick. Will I? iTaith, that we will; and I will 
 tell your wors'liip more of the wart, the next time 
 we have confidence; and of other wooers. 
 
 Fent. Well, farewell; Iain in great haste now. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quick. Farewell to your worship. — Truly, an 
 honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; fori 
 know Aime's mind as well as another does : — out 
 tipon't ! what have I forgot ? \_Exit. 
 
 ACT n. Scene I. — Before Page's House. 
 Enter Mistress Page, ivitk a letter. 
 
 Mm. Page. What ! have I 'scap'd love-letters in 
 <he holy-day time of my beauty, and am I now a 
 subject for them ? Let me see ; [Reads:) 
 
 A sk me no reason ivliy Hove you; for though love 
 ti.se reason for his precisian , he admits him not for 
 his counse/lrir : yon are not young, no more am I ; 
 go to then, there's sympathy : you are merry, so am 
 I ; Ha ! ha 1 then there's more sympathy : you love 
 sack, and so do I : tvould you desire better sympa- 
 thy ! Let it suffice thee^ tnistress Page, [at the least, 
 if the love of a sold'ur can sujjficfr), that I lore thee. 
 J ivill not say, pity me, ti-s not a sold'ier-l'ike 
 phrase; but I say, love me. By me, 
 
 ■, Thine own true knight. 
 
 By day or night. 
 Or any kind of light, 
 IVith all his might 
 For thee to fight, John Falstaff. 
 
 What a Herod of .fewry is this !— O wicked, wicked 
 world ! — one that is well nigh worn to pieces with 
 age, to show himself a young gallant! What an 
 nnvveiuhed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard 
 picked (with the devil's name) out of my conver- 
 sation, tliat he dares in this manner assay me ? 
 W'hy, he hath not been thrice in my company I — 
 What should I say to him ? — I was then frugal of 
 my mirth : — heaven forgive me! — Why, I'll exhib't 
 n bill in the parliament fir the putting down of men 
 How shall I be revenged on him? forrevenged I 
 will be HS sure as his guts are made of puddings. 
 
 Enter Mistress FoRD. 
 Mrs. Ford. JVlislress Page ! trust me, 1 was going 
 
 to your hoi'se. 
 
 Mrs. Pagc.^nd, trust me, I was coming to yon. 
 You look very ill. [show to the contrary 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne 'er believe that ; I have to 
 
 Mrs. Page. "Faith, but yon do, in my uiii.d. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then; yet, 1 say, I c>udd 
 show you to the contrary : O, mistress Page, give 
 me some counsel ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one 
 trifling respect, 1 conld come to such honour! 
 
 Mrs, Page. Hang the trifle, woman; take the 
 honour : wiiat is it? — dispense with trifles;— 
 what is if 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If I wotdd but go to hell for an eter- 
 nal moment, or so, I could be knighted. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What? thou liest !— Sir Alice Fordi 
 — These knights will hack ; and so thou shouldst 
 not alter the article of thy gentry. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We burn day light : — here, read, 
 read ; — perceive how I might be knighted. — I shall 
 think the worse of fat men, as long as ( have an 
 eye to make dilference of men's liking : and yet 
 he woidd not swear ; praised women s modesty : 
 and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to 
 all uiicomeliness, that I would have sworn his dis- 
 position would have gone to the truth of his words : 
 but they do no more adhere and keep place together 
 than the hundredth Psalm to the tune of Green 
 Sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, 
 with so many tons of oil in his belly, ashore at 
 Windsor ? How shall I be revenged on him ? 1 
 think the best way were to entertain him with hope, 
 till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his 
 own grease. — Did you ever hear the like ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Letter for letter ; but that the name 
 of Page and Ford differs ! — To thy great comfort 
 in this mystery of ill opniions, here's the twin- bro- 
 ther of thy letter : but let thine inherit first ; for, { 
 protest, mine never shall. 1 warrant, he hath a 
 thousand of these letters, writ with blank space fot 
 different names (sure more), and these are of the 
 second edition : he will | rint them out of doubt; 
 for he cares not what he puts i«ito the press when 
 he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, and 
 lie under mount Pelion. Well, I will find you 
 twenty lascivious turtles, ere one chaste man. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same ; the very 
 hand, the very words: what doth he think of ns? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not : it makes me al- 
 most ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll 
 entertain myself like one, that I am not acquainted 
 withal ; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, 
 that I know not myself, he would never have board- 
 ed me in this fury. 
 
 Mrs. ForcL Boarding, call you it ? I'll be sure 
 to keep him above deck. 
 
 Mrs. Page. So will I ; if he come under my 
 hatches. III never to sea again. Let's be reveng'd 
 on him: let's a|)j)oint him a meeting; give him a 
 show of comfort in his suit ; and lend him on with 
 a fine baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to 
 mine host of the Garter. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any vil- 
 lany against him. that may not sully the chariness 
 of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter, 
 it would give eternal food to his jealousy. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, look, where he comes ; and 
 my good man too : he's as far from jealousy, as I 
 am from giving him cause ; and that, I hope, is an 
 umneasurable distance. 
 Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman. 
 Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this 
 greasy knight : come hither. \They retire. 
 
 Enter FoRD. Pistol, Page, /?«<? Nym. 
 Ford. Well, I lioi)e. it be not so. 
 P'lst. Ho|»e is a curtail dog in some affairs* 
 Sir John afl'ects thy wife. 
 
38 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Ford. Why, sir, my wife is nol young. fpoor, 
 Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich and 
 Botli young and old, one with another. Ford ; 
 He h)ves thy gally-inaufry ; Ford, perpend. 
 
 Ford. Love ray wife ? [thon, 
 
 Pist. With liver burning hot : prevent, or go 
 Like sir Acteun, witli Uingwood at tiiy lieels : — 
 U, odious is llie name ! 
 
 Ford. What name, sir ? 
 
 Pist. The horn, I say : farewell. [night : 
 
 Take lieed ; have open eye , for thieves do foot by 
 Take heed, ere sunuiier couies, or cuckoo liirds do 
 
 Away, sir corporal Nym. Tsinj?. — 
 
 Believe it. Page ; he speaks sense. [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Ford. I will be patient; I will lind out this. 
 
 Nym. And this is (rue; [to Page.) I like not 
 the iiuMiour of lyiuft. He hath wronged me in 
 some humours ; I should have borne the humoured 
 letter to her: but I have a sword, and it sliall bite 
 upon my necessity. He loves your wife; tliere's 
 the short and ttie long. My name is corporal 
 Nym ; 1 speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true : — my 
 name is Nym, and Faistaif loves your wife. — Adieu ! 
 1 love not the liinnour of bread and cheese ; and 
 there's th ■ humour of it. Adieu. [Exit Nym. 
 
 Paye. The humour of it, quoth'a ! here's a feilow 
 frights humour out of his wits. 
 
 Ford- I will seek out Falstaff. [rogue. 
 
 Paye. I never heard such a drawling, atiecting 
 
 Ford. If 1 do find it, well. 
 
 Paye. 1 will not believe such a Cataian, though the 
 priest o' the town commended him for a true man. 
 
 Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow : well. 
 
 Paye. How now, Meg? [you. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. W^liither go you, George ? — Hark 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank '! why art 
 thou Tuelancholy ? 
 
 Ford I melanchjly ? I am not melancholy. — 
 Get you home; go. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. "Faith, thou hast some crotchets in 
 thy head now. — Will you go, mistress Page ? 
 
 Mrs. Paye Have with you. — You'll come to 
 dinner, George ? Look, who comes yonder : she 
 shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. (Aside 
 to Mrs. Ford.) 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Truslnie, I thoiighton her: she'll fit it. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. \ ou are come to see my daughter 
 Anne '! Lgiwd mistress Anne? 
 
 Quiclc. Ay, forsooth ; and, I pray, how does 
 
 Mrs. Paye. Go in with us, and see : we have an 
 hours talk with you. 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Paye, Mrs. Ford a?id Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Paye. How now, master Ford ? 
 
 Ford. You have heard what this knave told me ; 
 did you not ? [me ? 
 
 Paye. Yes ; and you heard what the other told 
 
 Ford. Do you think there is truth in them ? 
 
 Paye. Hang 'em, slaves; I do not think the 
 knight would olfer it : but these that accuse him in 
 his intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his 
 disrariled men : very rogues, now they be out of 
 
 Ford. Were they his men ? [service. 
 
 Paye. Marry, were they. 
 
 Ford. I like it never the better for that.— Does 
 he lie at the Garter? 
 
 Paye. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend 
 this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her 
 loose to him ; and what he gets more of her than 
 sharp words, let it lie on my head. 
 
 Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife • but I would 
 be loath to turn them together : a man may be too 
 confident: 1 would have nothing lie on my head : 
 1 cannot be thus satisfii-d. 
 
 Paye. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter 
 comes: there is either liquor in his pate, or money 
 •nhis purse, when he looks so merrily. — How now, 
 e host ' 
 
 Enter Host and Shallow. 
 
 Host. How now, bully-rook ? tlioii'rt a gentle 
 mail : cavalero-justice, I say. 
 
 Shal. 1 follow, mine host, I follow. — Good even, 
 and twenty, good master Page ! Master Page, will 
 you go witii us ? we have sport in hand. [rook. 
 
 Host. Tell him, cavalero justice ; tell him, bully- 
 
 Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be loiight, between 
 sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Cains the French 
 doctor. [you. 
 
 Ford. Good mine ho.st o'the Garter, a word with 
 
 Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook? [They yt 
 aside.) 
 
 Shal. Will you {to Page) go with us to behold 
 it? jMy merry host hath liaa the measuring of their 
 weapons; and, I think, he hath ajipoiiited them 
 contrary places: for, believe me, I lieiU', the parson 
 is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport 
 shall be. [guest-cavalier? 
 
 Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my 
 
 Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle 
 of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell 
 him my name is Brook : only for a jest. 
 
 Host. My hand, bully : thou shall have egress and 
 regress; said I well? and i!iy name shall be Brook: 
 it is a meny knight. — ^Vill you go on, hearts? 
 
 Shal. Have with you, mine host. 
 
 Paye. 1 have heard, the Frenchman hath good 
 skill in his rapier. 
 
 Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more : in 
 these times you stand on distance, your passes; 
 stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart, 
 master Page ; "tis here, 'tis here. I have seen tlie 
 time, witii my long sword, I would have made you 
 four tall fellows skip like rats. 
 
 Host. Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag? 
 
 Paye. Have with you: — I had rather hear them 
 scold than fight. [Exeunt Host, Shallow and Paye. 
 
 Ford. Tlioiigh Page be a secure fool, and stands 
 so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put otf 
 my opinion so easily ; she was in his company at 
 Page's house ; and, what they made there, I know 
 not. Well, I will look further iiito't: and I have a 
 disguise to sound Falstatf: if I find her honest, 
 I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour 
 well bestovved. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Garter hm. 
 
 Enter Falstaff and Pistol. 
 
 Fal. I will not lend thee a penny. 
 
 Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster, 
 Which 1 with sword will open. — 
 I will retort the sura in equipage. 
 ■ Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you 
 should lay my countenance to pawn: I have grated 
 upon my good friends tor three reprieves for you and 
 your coach-fellow, Nym; or else you had looked 
 through the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am 
 damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, 
 you were good soldiers, and tall fellows: and when 
 mistress Bridget lost tiie handle of her fan, 1 took't 
 upon mine honour, thou liadst it not. 
 
 Pist. Didst thou not share ? hadst thou not fif- 
 teen pence ? 
 
 Fal. Reason, you rogne, reason : think'st tho 
 I'll endanger my soul, yratis? At a word, hang 
 no more about me, I am no gibbet for yon: — go.— 
 A short knife and a throng ; — to your manor oi 
 Pickt-hatrli, go. — You'll twit bear a letter for me, 
 you rogue ! — You stand upon your honour! — Why 
 thou •Dconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can 
 do to keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, 
 I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven on 
 the left hand, and hiding mine honour iu my neces- 
 sity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch; and 
 yet you, rogue, will esconce your rags, your cat- 
 a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and 
 your bold beating oaths, under tiie shelter of your 
 hoDUur ! You will not do it, you > 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MERRY AVIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 39 
 
 I'isl. I do relent; Wliat vvonld'st thou more of 
 Enter Kobin. [inan / 
 
 Jlob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. 
 Fal. Let her approach. 
 
 Enter Misiress Quickly. 
 
 Quick. Give your worsliip good-morrow. 
 
 Fal. Good-morrow, good wife. 
 
 Quick. Not so, an"t please your worship. 
 
 Fal. Good maid, then. 
 
 Quick. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, the first 
 Jiour I was born. 
 
 Fal. I do believe the swearer; what with me? 
 
 '^uick. Shall I vouchsafe your worsliip a word 
 or two '! 
 
 Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouch- 
 safe thee the hearing. 
 
 Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir; — I pray, 
 come a little nearer this ways: — 1 myself dwell 
 with master doctor Cains. 
 
 Fal. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say, 
 
 Quick. Your worship s:iys very tiue : I pray 
 your worship, come a little nearer tliis ways. 
 
 Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears;— mine own 
 people, mine own people. 
 
 Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and 
 innke them his servants! 
 
 Fal. Well: Mistress Ford ;— what of her? 
 
 Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, 
 lord ! your worship's a wanton : well, heaven for- 
 |;ive you, and all oi us, I pray! 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford ; — come, mistress Ford, — 
 
 Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of 
 it; you have brought her into such a canaries, as 
 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them ail, when 
 the court lay at Windsor, could ne\er have brought 
 her to such a canary. Yet there lia'! been knights, 
 and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; 1 
 warrant you, coach after coach, lettrr alter letter, 
 gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, (all musk,) and 
 so rushiing, I warrant you, in silk and gold ; and 
 in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar 
 «f the best, and the fairest, that would have won 
 any woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could 
 never get an eye-wink other. — I had myself twenty 
 angels given me this morning : but 1 defy all an- 
 gels, (in any such sort, as they say,) but in the way 
 of honesty: — and, I warrant you, they could nc\er 
 get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest 
 of them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, 
 which is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all 
 is one with her. [good slie Mercury. 
 
 Fal. But what says she to me ? be brief, my 
 
 Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter; for 
 the which she thanks yon a thousand times : and 
 she gives you to notify, that her husband will be 
 absence from his house between ten and eleven. 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven? 
 
 Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and then you may come 
 and see the picture, she says, that you wot of; — 
 master Ford, her husband, will be from home. 
 Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him; 
 he's a very jealousy man : she leads a very fraui- 
 pold life witii him, good heart. 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven : woman, commend me to 
 her : I will not fail her. 
 
 Quick. Why, you say well : but I have another 
 messenger to your worshi|) : Mistress Page hath 
 her hearty commendations to you too; — and let 
 me tell you in your ear, she's as iartuous a civil 
 modest wife, and one ( I tell you ) that will not miss 
 yiui morning nor evening prayer, as any is in 
 Windsor, whoe'er be the otiier : and she bade me 
 tell your worship, that her husband is seldom from 
 home ; but, she hopes, there vvill come a time. I 
 never knew a woman so dote npon a man ; surely, 
 I think you have charms, la ; yes, in truth. 
 
 Fal. Not 1, I assure thee; setting the attraction 
 of my good i>arts asido, I have no other charms. 
 
 Quick. Blessing on your heart for't ! 
 
 Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this : has Ford's 
 wife, and Page's wife, acijuaiuted each other how 
 they lose me '! 
 
 Quick. That were a jest, indeed ! — they have not 
 so little grace, I hoi^e: — that were a trick, indeed! 
 But mistress Page vvould desire you to send her 
 your little page, of all loves; her husband has a 
 marvellous inlectiou to the little page : and, truly, 
 master Page is an honest man. Never a wile id 
 Windsor leads a better life than she dots; do what 
 she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to 
 bed when she list, rise when she list, iill is as she 
 will; and, truly, slie deserves it: for il' there be a 
 kind woman in Windsor, she is one. Y'ou must 
 send her your page ; no remedy. 
 
 Fal. Why,! will. 
 
 Quick. Nay, but do so then: and look you, he 
 may come and go between you both; and, in any 
 case, have a nay word, that you may know one 
 another's mind, and the boy never need to under- 
 stand any thing; fur 'tis nut good that chihlrea 
 should know any wickedness : old folks, you know, 
 have discretion, as they say, and know the woild. 
 
 Fal. Fare thee well : commend me to them both : 
 there's my purse; I am yet thy debtor. — Bov, go 
 
 along with tliis woman. This news distracts me ! 
 
 [Exeunt Quickly and Robin. 
 
 Pist. This punk is one of Oupids cairiers: 
 Clap on nuue sails; pursue, uf) with your fights; 
 Give fire ; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all I 
 
 [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack? go thy ways; I'll 
 make more of thy old body than I have done. Will 
 they yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the 
 expetice of so much money, be now a gainer? 
 Good body, I thank thee : let them s:\y, 'tis grossly 
 (lone ; so it be fairly done, no matter. 
 
 Enter Bardolfh. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, there's one master Brook below 
 would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with 
 you ; and hath sent your worship a morning's 
 
 Fal. Brook, IS his name? [draught of sack. 
 
 Bard. Ay, sir. 
 
 Fal. Call him in. [Exit Bardotph.] Such Brooks 
 are welcome to me, that oeriiow such liquor. Ah ! 
 ha ! mistress Ford and mistress Page, have I en- 
 compassed you ? go to ; via ! 
 
 Re enter B.vRDOLPH, with Ford disguised. 
 
 Furd. Bless you, sir. 
 
 Fal. And you, sir: would you speak with me? 
 
 FWd. I make bold to press with so little pre- 
 paration upon yon. 
 
 Fal. You're welcome: what's your will? — Give 
 us lea\e, drawer. [Exit Bardolph. 
 
 Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent 
 much ; my name is Brook. 
 
 Fal. Good master Brook, I desire more ac- 
 quaintance of you. 
 
 Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours : not_ to 
 charge you; for I must let you understand, I think 
 myself in better plight for a lender tlian you are; 
 the which hath something emboldened me to this 
 unseasoned intrusion : for they say, if money go 
 before, all ways do lie open. 
 
 Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. 
 
 Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here 
 troubles me : if you will help me to bear it, sir 
 John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage. 
 
 Fal. Sir, I know not how 1 may deserve to be 
 your porter. [hearing. 
 
 Ford. 1 will tell you, sir, if you will give me the 
 
 Fal. Speak, good master Brook ; I shall be glad 
 to be your servant. 
 
 Ford. Sir, 1 hear you are a scholar, — I will be 
 
 brief with you, and you have been a man long 
 
 known to me, though I had never so good means, 
 as desire, to osake myself acquai'ited with vo". ] 
 
40 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 sliall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very 
 much lay open mine own imperl'ectioii : but, good 
 sir John, as you have one eye wpun mj follies, as 
 yon hear them unfolded, turn another into the re- 
 gister of your own : that I may pass with a reprmif 
 the easier, sith, you yourself know, how easy it is 
 to he su(;h an offender. 
 
 Fal. Very well, sir; proceed. 
 
 Furd. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her 
 husband's name is Ford. 
 
 Fal. Well, sir. 
 
 Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to 
 yon, bestowed much on her; followed her with a 
 noting observance ; engrossed opportunities to meet 
 her; fee'd every slight occasion, (hat could but 
 niggardly gi\e me sight of her; not only bought 
 many presents to give her, but ha\e given largely 
 to many, to know what she would have given : 
 briefly, I have pursued her, as love hath pursued 
 me ; which hath been, on the wing of all occasions. 
 But whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind 
 or in my means, meed, I am sure, I have receiied 
 none; unless experience be a jewel; that I have 
 purchased at an infinite rate ; and that hath taught 
 me to say this [sties ; 
 
 Love like a shadow files, zvhen substance love piir- 
 Pursuiny that that flies, and flying ivhat pursues. 
 
 Fal. liave you received no promise of satisfac- 
 tion at her hands ? 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal. Have you importuned her to such a purpose ? 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal. Of what quality was your love then ? 
 
 Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another man's 
 ground ; so that I have lost my edifice, by mistak- 
 ing the place where I erected it. [ nie ? 
 
 Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded this to 
 
 Ford. When 1 have told you that. 1 have told 
 you all. Some say, that, though she appear honest 
 to me, yet, in other places, she enlargeth her mirth 
 so far, that there is shiewd construction made of 
 her. Now, sir John, here is the heart of my pur- 
 pose : you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, 
 aduiiiiible discourse, of great admittance, authen- 
 tic ill your place and person, generally allowed for 
 your many war-like, court-like, and learned pre- 
 parations. 
 
 Fal. O, -sir! 
 
 Ford. Believe it, for you know it: — There is 
 money ; spend it, spend it ; spend more ; spend all 
 I have ; only give me so much of your time in ex- 
 change of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the ho- 
 nesty of this Ford's wife : use your art of wooing, 
 win her to consent to you; if any man may, you 
 may as soon as any. 
 
 Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of 
 your affection, that 1 should win what you would 
 enjoy? Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very 
 preposterously. 
 
 Ford. O, understand my drift! she dwells so 
 securely on the excellency of her honour, that the 
 folly of my sotd dares nut present itself; she is too 
 bright to be looked against. Now, could I come to 
 her with any detection in my hand, my desires had 
 instance and argument to commend themselves ; I 
 could drive her then from the ward of her purity. 
 her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand 
 other her defences, wliich now are too strongly em- 
 battled against me • what say you to't, sir John ? 
 
 Fal, Master Brook, I will first make bold with 
 your money ; next, give me your haml ; and last, 
 as I auiagentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy 
 Ford's wite. 
 
 Ford. O, good sir ! 
 
 Fal. ftlaster Brook, I say you shall. | none. 
 
 Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want 
 
 Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you 
 shall want none. ! shall be with her, ( I may tell 
 you), by her own appointnietit : even as yoi. came 
 •n to me. her assistant, or go bel .veto, parted from 
 
 me : 1 say, 1 shall be with her between ten and 
 
 eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave, 
 her husband, will be I'orth. Come you to nie at 
 night; you shall know how I speed. 
 
 Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you 
 know Ford, sir? 
 
 Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave ! I know 
 him not: — yet 1 wrong him to call hini poor; they 
 say, the jealous vvittolly knave hath masses of mo- 
 ney : for the which his wife seems to me well fa- 
 voured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly 
 rogue's colfer; and there's my harvest home. 
 
 Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir; that you 
 might avoid hiui, if you saw him. 
 
 Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! 
 I will stare him out of his wits; I will awe him 
 with my cudgel : it shall hang like a meteor 
 o'er the cuckold's horns : master Brook, thou shalt 
 know, I will predominate o'er the peasant, and thou 
 shalt lie with his wife. — Come to me soon at night : — 
 Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his stile ; thou, 
 master Brook, shalt know him for a knave and 
 cuckold : — come to me soon at night. {Exit. 
 
 Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this ! 
 — My heart is ready to crack with impatience. — 
 Who says, this is improvident jealousy ? My wife 
 hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is 
 made. Would any man ha\e thought this? — .See 
 the hell of having a false woman '. my bed shall be 
 abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn 
 at; and I shall not only receive this villanoua 
 wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable 
 terms, and by him that does me this wrong. 
 Terms I names I Amaimon sounds well; Luci- 
 fer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are devils' ad- 
 ditions, the names of fiends : but cuckold ! wittol- 
 cuckold ! the devil himself hath not such a name. 
 Page is an ass, a secure ass ; he will trust his wife, 
 he will not be jealous : I will rather trust a Fleming 
 with my butter, par.son Hugh the Welchman with 
 my cheese, an Iiishman with my aquavitee bottle, 
 or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my wife 
 with herself: then she plots, then she ruminates, 
 then she devises : and what they think in their 
 hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts 
 but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my 
 jealousy ! — Eleven o'clock the hour ; — I will pre- 
 vent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, 
 and laugh at Page. I will about it; better three 
 hours too soon, than a nnniite too late. Fie, fie, fie ! 
 cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold I [Exit 
 
 Scene III, — Windsor Park. 
 
 Enter Caius and Rugby. 
 
 Caius. Jack Rugby. 
 
 Ru(j. Sir. 
 
 Caius. Vat is de clock. Jack? 
 
 Ru<j. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- 
 mised to meet, 
 
 Caius. By gar, he has save his soid, dat he is no 
 come ; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he is no come : 
 by gar. Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be 
 come. 
 
 Rug. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would 
 kill him if he (;ame. 
 
 Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I viH 
 kill him. Take your rapier. Jack; I vill tell yoi» 
 how I vill kill him. 
 
 Ruq. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 
 
 Caius. Villany, take your rapier. 
 
 Rug. Forbear; here's company. 
 
 Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Pagb. 
 
 Host. 'Bless thee, bully doctor. 
 Shal. Save you, master doctor Caius. 
 Page. Now, good master doctor! 
 Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir. 
 Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come 
 for ? 
 
 Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see 
 
I 
 
 >-3 r 
 
 
Act IIP. Scene 1. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 41 
 
 thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there ; to 
 see thee pass thy pdtito, tliy stock, thy reverse, thy 
 (listaiice, tliy iiioiitant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? 
 is he dead, my Francisco? ha. bully ! What says my 
 Ksciilapiiis :' cny Galen ? itiy heart of elder ? ha! is 
 he dead, bully Stale? is he dead ? 
 
 Caiits. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of the 
 vorld ; he is not show his face. 
 
 Host. Thou art a Castiliaii king, Urinal! Hector 
 of Greece, my boy ! 
 
 Caius. I pray you, bear vitness dat nie have stay 
 six or seven, two or tree hours for him, and he is no 
 come. 
 
 S/ial. He is the wiser man, master doctor : he is 
 a cnrer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you 
 should fi^lit, you go against the hair of your proiies- 
 sion ; is it not true, master Page? 
 
 Pa(je. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a 
 great fighter, though now a man of peace. 
 
 Shal. Hodykins, master Page, though 1 now be 
 old, and of (lie peace, if I see a sword out, my linger 
 itches to make one : though we are justices, and 
 doctors, and churchmen, master Page, v\e have some 
 salt of our youth in us; we are tiie sons of women, 
 master Page. 
 
 Piiije. ' I'is true, master Shallow. 
 
 Shell. It \\\\\ be found so, master Page. Master 
 doctor C lius, I am come to fetch you home. I am 
 sworn of tiie peace; yon have showed yourself a 
 wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself a 
 wise unil patient churchman : you must go with me, 
 master doctiir. 
 
 Host. Pardon, guest justice : — A word, monsieur 
 Muck-water. 
 
 Cniits. Aiuck-vather! vat is dat ? 
 
 Host. Miak - water, in our English tongue, is 
 valour, bully. 
 
 Cuius. By gar. then I have as much niuckvater 
 
 as de Englisliman. Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, 
 
 ine vill cut his ears. 
 
 Host. He will clapper claw thee, tightly, bully. 
 
 Cains. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat? 
 
 Host. 'I'liat IS, he will make thee amends. 
 
 Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall clapperde- 
 cla\v me, fur, by gar, me vill ha\e it. 
 
 Host. And I will provoke him tot, or let him wag. 
 
 'Caius. Me tank you for dat. 
 
 Host. And moreover, bully, — But first, master 
 guest, and masted Page, and eke caxalero Sender, 
 go you through the town to Frogmore. ( Aside to 
 them. ) 
 
 PcKje. Sir Hugh is there, is he ? 
 
 Host. He is there ; see what humour he is in ; and 
 I will bring the doctor about by the fields : will it 
 do well 1 
 
 Shal. We will do it. 
 
 Paije, Shal. andSlen. Adieu, gooil master doctor. 
 [ Exeunt Paye, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Cains. By gar, me vill kill de priest: ibr he 
 speak for a j.ick an-ape to Aime Page. 
 
 Host. Let liiin die : but, first, siieath thy impa- 
 tience; tlirow cold ivatL'r on tiiy tholer : go about 
 the fields with me tlirough Frogmore ; I will bring 
 thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farmhouse, 
 aleastiug: and thou slialt woo lier : Cry'd game, 
 said 1 well? 
 
 Call's. By gar, me tank you for dat : by gar, I 
 love you ; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, 
 de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my 
 patients. 
 
 Host. For the which I will be thy adversary 
 towards Anne Page; said I well'' 
 
 Cains. By gar, tis good; veil said. 
 
 Host. Lei us wag then. 
 
 Caius. Come at my heels, .lack Rugby. I Exeunt. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Scene 1. — A Field near Froymore. 
 Enter Sir Hugh Eva.ns and Simple. 
 Eva. 1 pray you now, good master Slenders ser- 
 
 ving man, and friend Simple by your name, vvnich 
 way have you looked for master Caius, that calls 
 himself Doctor of Physic ? 
 
 Sim. Many, sir, the city-ward, the jiark-ward, 
 every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but 
 the town way. 
 
 Eva. I most feheraently desire you, you will alsc 
 look that way. 
 
 Sim. I will, sir. 
 
 Fva. 'Pless my soul ! how full of cho!ers I am, 
 and trempling of mind! — I shall be glad, if he have 
 deceived me : — how nielancolies I am ! — I will 
 kiiog his urinals about his knave's costaid, when I 
 have good opportunities for the 'ork — 'pless my 
 soul ! ( Sings. ) 
 
 To sJuilloiu ri»frs, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds siny niadriyals; 
 There will we moke our peds of roses. 
 And a thousand vayrnnt posies. 
 
 To shallow — 
 'Mercy on im? ! 1 lia\e a great dispositions to cry. 
 Melodious birds sing niadriyals : 
 When OS I sat i)i Pabylon, — 
 And a thousand vayraiu posies. 
 
 To shallow — 
 
 Sim. Y(mder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. 
 
 Eva. He's welcome : — 
 
 To shallow rivers, to ivhose falls — 
 Heaven prosper the right! — Wliat weapons is he? 
 
 Sim. No weapons, sir : there comes luy master, 
 master Siiallow, and another gentleman from Frog- 
 more, over the stile, this way. 
 
 Eva. Piay you, give me my gown ; or else keep 
 it in your arms. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Shal. How now, master parson' Good-morrow, 
 good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester iroui the dice, 
 and a good student from his book, and it is won- 
 
 Slen. .\li, sweet Anne Page ! [derful. 
 
 Paye. Save you, good sir Hugh ! 
 
 Eva. 'Pless you troin his iiuircy sake, all of you ! 
 
 Shal. What ! the sword and the word ! do you 
 study them both, master parson? 
 
 Paye. And youthful still, in your doublet and 
 hose, lliis raw rheumatic day ? 
 
 Eva. There is reasons and causes for it. 
 
 Paye. We are come to you, to do a good office, 
 master parson ? 
 
 Eva. Fery well : what is it? 
 
 Paye. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, 
 belike, hawiig received wrong by some person, is at 
 most odds with his own gravity and patience, that 
 ever you s iw. 
 
 Shal. I have lived fourscore years, and upwards; 
 I never heard a man of his [place, gravity, and learn- 
 ing so wide of his ow n reSjiect. 
 
 Eva. NVhat is he ? 
 
 Paye. I think you know him ; master doctor 
 Cains, the renowned French physician. 
 
 Eva. Got's will, and his passion of my heart ! ] 
 had as lief von would tell me of a niess of porridge. 
 
 Paye. W'hy ? 
 
 Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hihocrates 
 and Galen, — and he is a knave besides; a cowardly 
 knne, as you would desires to be acquainted withal. 
 
 Paye. \ warrant you, he's the man should fight 
 with him. 
 
 Slen. O, sw^ et .\nne Page I 
 
 Shal. It appears so, by his weapons : — Keep them 
 asunder; — here comes doctor Caius. 
 
 Enter Host, Caius, and Rue BY. 
 
 Paye. N.iy, good master parson, keep in your 
 
 Shal. So do you, good master diii:tor. [weapon. 
 
 Host. iJisariu them, and let them quest ion ; let 
 them kee|) their limbs whole, and hack our Entrllsh. 
 
 Caius. I pray you, let a me speak a word vityoui 
 ear: verefoie nil you iiotmeeta me? 
 
 Eva. Pray you, use your patience : in good time. 
 
42 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, 
 John ape. 
 
 Eva. I'ray yon, let its not be laiiffliinsi-stogs to 
 othrr nKMi's liumoiirs ; I desire you in trieiidsliip, and 
 I will oiie way or other make yon amends: — I will 
 knog your urmaLs about your kna\e's cogsconib, for 
 missing your ineetin.;s and appointments. 
 
 Caius. Diable! — Jack Hugby, — mine Host de 
 Jarterre, tiave I not stay for hiui, to kill him ? Iia\e 
 I nut, at de place 1 did appoint? 
 
 Eva. As 1 am a Christian's soul, now, look you, 
 this is tlie place appointed ; I'll be judgment by mine 
 lio.st ol' the tiarter. 
 
 Host. Peace, I say, Giiallia and Gaul, French 
 and \Vtlcli ; soul cuier and body curer. 
 
 Caius. Ay, dat is very good! excellent! 
 
 Host. Peace, I say ; hear mine host of the Garter. 
 Am 1 politic? am 1 subtle? am 1 a Machiavel? 
 Shall I lose my doctor? no ; he gives me the potions, 
 and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? my priest? 
 my sir Hugh ? no ; he gives me tlie proverbs, and the 
 no-verbs. — Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so : — Give 
 
 me thy hand, celestial ; so. Boys ol' ait, I have 
 
 deceived you both; I havedi.ecled you to wrong 
 places : your hearts are mighty, your skins are 
 whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. — Come, lay 
 their swoi ds to pawn . — Follow me, lad ol peace ; 
 follow, follow, liillow. 
 
 Shal. Trust me, a mad host : — Follow, gentle- 
 men, i'ullow. 
 
 Slen. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 [Exeunt Shallow, Slender, Paye and Host. 
 
 Caius. Ha! do I perceive dat? have you makea 
 de sot of us ? ha, ha ! 
 
 Eva. Tins is well ; he has made us his vlouting- 
 stog. I desire you, that we may be Iriends, and let 
 us knog our prains together, to be revenge on this 
 same scab, scurvy, cogging companion, the host of 
 the Gaiter. 
 
 Caius. By gar, vit all my heart; he promise to 
 bring nie vere is Anne Page : by gar, he deceive nie 
 too. 
 
 Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles : — Pray you, 
 follow. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Street in Windsor. 
 Enter Mistress Paue and Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Pu(je. Nay, keep your way, little gallant; 
 you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a 
 leader : whether had you lather, lead mine eyes, 
 or eye your muster's heels? 
 
 Rob. 1 had rather, forsooth, go before you like a 
 man, than lollow him like a dwarf. 
 
 Mrs. Paije. O yon are a flattering boy ; now, I 
 see, you'll be a courtier. 
 
 Enter FoRD. 
 
 Ford. Well met, mistress Page : whither go you ? 
 
 Mrs. Parje. Truly, sir, to see your wile : is she 
 at home ? 
 
 Ford. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, 
 for want of company : I think, if your husbands 
 weri:- dead, you two would marry. 
 
 Mrs. Parje. Be sure of that, — two other husbands. 
 
 Ford. Wliere had you this pretty weathercock ? 
 
 Mrs. Paije. I cannot tell what the dickens his 
 name is my liiisband had him of: what do you call 
 your kniiiht's naiiip, sirrah? 
 
 Rob. Sir John Falstatf. 
 
 Ford. Sir Jolji. Falstatf! 
 
 Mrs. Paye. He, he; 1 can never hit on's name. 
 — There is such a league between my good man and 
 Le ! — Is y<*ur wife at lioine, indeed ' 
 
 Ford. I ideed, she is. 
 
 Mrs. Pnije. By your leave, sir ; — I ain*sick, till 
 I see hf r. [ Exeunt Mrs. Paye and Robin. 
 
 Ford. Has Page any br.nns i" hatii lie any eyes ? 
 hath he anv tiiiiiking'? Sure, they sleep; he hath 
 
 no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter 
 twenty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point- 
 blank twelve score. He pieces out his wile's incli- 
 nation ; he gives her folly motion, and ailvantage 
 and now she's going to my wife, and Falstaft's boy 
 with her. A man may hear this shower sii.g in the 
 wind ! — and P^alstalfs boy with her ! — Good plots I 
 — they are laid ; and our revolted wives share dam- 
 nation together. Well; I will take him, then lorture 
 my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from 
 the so seeming Mrs. Page, divulge Page himself fcr 
 a Secure and willul Actfeon ; and to these violent 
 proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim. [Clock 
 strikes.) The clock gives me my cue, and my as- 
 surance bids me search ; there I shall find FalstatV : 
 I shall be rather praised for this, than mocked : i'or 
 it is as positive as the earth is firm, that Falstaft' is 
 there : I will go. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh 
 Evans, Caius, and Hlgby. 
 
 Shal. Paye, §)~c. Well met, master Ford. 
 
 Ford, 'i'rust me, a good knot : I have good cheer 
 at home ; and, I pray you, all go with me. 
 
 Shal. I must excuse myself, master Ford. 
 
 Slen. And so must I, sir ; we have ap|,ointed to 
 dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break 
 with her for more money than I'll speak of. 
 
 Shal. We have lingered about a match between 
 Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we 
 shall have ou.- answer. 
 
 Slen. I hope, I have your good will, father Page. 
 
 Paye. You have, master Slender; I stand wholly 
 for you : — but my wife, master doctor, is for you 
 altogether. 
 
 Caius. Ay, by gar; and de maid is love-a me; my 
 nursh-a Qr.ickly tell me so mush. 
 
 Host. What say you to young master Fenton? he 
 capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes 
 verses, he speaks holyday, he smells April and May • 
 he will carry't, he will carry't; 'tis in his buttons 
 he will carry't. 
 
 Paye. Not by my consent, I promise you. The 
 gentleman is of no having : he kept company with 
 the wild Prince and Poins ; he is of too nigh a re- 
 gion, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a 
 knot in his fortunes vvilh the finger of my substance ; 
 if he take her, let him take her simply 1 the wealth I 
 have waits on my consent, and my consent goes not 
 that way. 
 
 Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go> 
 home with me to dinner; besides your cheer, you 
 shall have sj.ort; I will shew you a monster. — 
 Master doctor, you shall go; — so shall you, master 
 Page ; — and you, sir Hugh. 
 
 Shal. Well, fare you well : — we shall have the 
 freer wooing at master Page's. 
 
 [Exeunt SItnlloiv and Slender. 
 
 Caius. Go home, John Uugby ; I come anon. 
 
 {Exit Ruybtj. 
 
 Host. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my honest 
 kniglit Falstaf}', and drink canary with him. 
 
 [Exit Host. 
 
 Ford. [Aside.) I think, I shall drink in pipewine 
 first with linn; I'll make him dance. Will you go, 
 gentles ? 
 
 All. Have with you, to see this monster. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in Ford's house. 
 Enter Mistress FoRU and Mistress Page. 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John ! what, Robert I 
 Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly ! Is the buck bas- 
 ket- 
 Mrs. Ford. I warrant : — What, Robin, I say. 
 
 Enter Servants, ivith a basket. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. Come, come, come. 
 Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down. [be bricl. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. Give your men the charge ; we must 
 Mrs. Ford. Marrv, as I told you before, John, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 43 
 
 and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew- 
 house ; and, when I suddenly call yon, come forth, 
 and 'without any pause, or staggerins). take this 
 basket on your shoulders : that done, trudge with it 
 in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in 
 Datchet mead, and there empty it iu the muddy 
 ditch, close by the Thames side. 
 
 yirs. Page. You will do it? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over ; they 
 lack no direction : be gone, and come when you are 
 called. [Exeunt Servants. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin. 
 
 Enter Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musket? what 
 news « ith you ? 
 
 Rob. My master, sir John, is come in at your back- 
 door, mistress Ford ; and requests your company. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You little Jack-alent, have you been 
 true to us? 
 
 Rob Ay, I'll be sworn: my master knows not of 
 your being here : and hath threatened to put me 
 into everl-.isting liberty, if I tell you of it; for, he 
 swears, he'll turn me away. 
 
 Mna^ Page. Thou'rt a good boy ; this secrecy of 
 thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shidl make thee 
 a new doublet and hose. — I'll go hide me. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Do so:— CJo tell thy master, lam 
 alone. Mrs. Page, remember you your cue. 
 
 [Exit Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I warrant thee ; if T do not act it, 
 hiss me. \Exit Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go to then ; we'll use this unwhole- 
 some humidity, this gross watery pnmpion; — we'll 
 teach him how to know turtles from jays. 
 
 E?>ter FALST.4FF. 
 
 Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? 
 Why, now let me die, for I ha\ e lived long enough ; 
 this is (he period of my ambition : O this blessed 
 hour ! 
 
 Mr.i. Ford. O sweet Sir John .' 
 
 Fal. .Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, 
 mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: 1 
 would thy husband were dead ; I'll speak, it before 
 the best fird, I would make thee my lady. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John ! alas, I should 
 be a pitiful lady. 
 
 Fal. Let the court of France show me such an- 
 other; I see how thine eye would emulate the dia- 
 mond : thou hast the right arched bent of the brow, 
 that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any 
 tire of Venetian admittance. 
 
 jMrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, sir John : my brows 
 bennue nothing else; nor that well neither. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so : thou woiild'st 
 make an absolute courtier; ajid the tirm tixture of 
 thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, 
 ill a srmi-circled fartflingale. I see what thou wert, 
 it lortune thy foe were not ; nature is thy friend : 
 cuine, tliou canst not hide it. [me. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing in 
 
 Fal. VVaat made me love thee ? let that persuade 
 thee, there's something exlraoidiiiaiy in thee. Come, 
 I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and that, like a 
 many of these lisping hawtiiorn buds, that come like 
 wonien in men s apparel, and suu'll Lke Buckler's- 
 biiry in sim le-time ; I cannot : but 1 love thee ; none 
 but thee: and thou deservest it. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir ; I fear, you 
 lovf mistress Paue. 
 
 Fal. Thou might'st as well say, I love to walk by 
 the Ciiiiuter-gate ; wliich is as hateful to me as tiie 
 reek of a limekiln. 
 
 ^Irs. Furd. Well, heaven knows, how I love 
 you ; aiul yuu shall one day tind it. 
 
 Fal. Ivfep in that mind; [ II de.serve it. 
 
 Mrii. Ford. i\ay, I must tell you, so you do ; or 
 else 1 could not be in that mind. 
 
 Rob. [within.) Mistress Ford, mistress Ford I 
 here's mistress Page at the door, sweating, and 
 blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak 
 with you presently. [behind the arras. 
 
 Fal. .She shall not see me ; I will ensconce me 
 Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so : she's a very tattling 
 woman. — (Falstaff hides himself.) 
 
 Enter Mistress Page and Robin. 
 
 What's the matter? how now? 
 
 Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you 
 done ? You're shamed, you are overthrown, you are 
 undone for ever. [Page ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mistress 
 
 Mrs. Page. O well-a day, mistress Ford ! having 
 an honest man to your husband, to give him such 
 cause of suspicion I 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion? 
 
 Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion ? — Out up- 
 on vou ! how am I mistook in you ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, alas ! what's the matter? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, wo- 
 man, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for 
 a gentleman, that, he says, is here now in the honse, 
 by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his ab- 
 sence. You are undone. [so. I hope. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Speak louder. — [Aside) — Tis not 
 
 Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you 
 have such a man here ; but 'tis most certain, your 
 husband's coming with half Windsor at his heels, to 
 search for such a one. I come before to tell you ; 
 if you know yourself clear, why I am glad of it: 
 but if you have a friend here, convey, con\ey hiui 
 out. Be not amazed ; call all your senses to you i 
 defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good 
 life for ever. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What shall J do ? — There is a gentle- 
 man, my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own 
 shame, so much as his peril : I had rather than a 
 thousand pound, he were out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had ra- 
 ther, and you had rather ; your husband's here at 
 hand, bethink you of some conveyance : in the 
 house you cannot hide him. — O, how have you de- 
 ceived me! — Look, here is a basket; if he be of 
 any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ; and 
 throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going to 
 bucking: or,it is whiting-time, send him by your 
 two men to D.itchet mead. fshall I do? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there : what 
 
 Reenter Falst.\fp. 
 
 Fal. Let me see't, let me see't! O let me see't ! 
 I'll in, I'll in ; — follow your friend's counsel : — I'll iu. 
 
 Mrs. Page. What! Sir John Falstatf ! Are these 
 your letters, knight? 
 
 Fal. I love tliee, and none but thee; help rae 
 away : let me creep in here ; I'll never — 
 [He goes into the basket ; they cover him tvith 
 foul linen.) 
 
 Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy: call 
 your men. mistress Ford : — You dissembling knight! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! [Exit 
 Robin. Re-enter Servants.] Go take up these 
 clothes here, q'lickly ; where's the cowl-staff? look, 
 hinv you dniiiible : carry them to the laundress in 
 D;itchet mead ; quickly, come. 
 Enter Ford, Pace, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Ford. Pray you, come near : if I suspect without 
 cause, why tiien make sport at me, then let me be 
 your jest; I deserve it. — How now? whither bear 
 you this ? 
 
 Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. 
 
 Mrs. i^orc^.Why, what have you to do whither they 
 bear it ? you were best meddle witii buck washing. 
 
 Ford. Buck? I would I could wash myself of 
 the buck! Buck, buck, buck? ay, buck! I war. 
 rant yon. buck ; and of the season too; it shall ap. 
 pear. I Exeunt Servants with the bayk-et.] (Jentle- 
 
44 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 men, I have Jreamed to-night; Til tell you my 
 dream. Here, here, here be my keys : ascend my 
 chambers, search, seek, find out : I'll Avarrant we'll 
 unkennel the lox :— Let me stop this way first:— 
 so, now nncape. 
 
 Paije. Good master Ford, be contented : you 
 wronj; yourself too much. 
 
 Ford. True, master Page.— Up, Gentlemen ; you 
 shall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. [Exit. 
 
 Eva. I'liis is fery fantastical humours, and jea- 
 lousies. 
 
 Cuius. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of l ranee : it is 
 not jealous in France. 
 
 Pa(/e. Nay, follow him, a;entlemen ; see the issue 
 of his search. lExeuiit Evans, Page, and Caws. 
 
 Mrs.Paye. Is there not a double excellency in tins? 
 
 Mrs. Furd. I know not which pleases me better, 
 that my husband is deceived, or sir Jolm. 
 
 Mrs. Paije. What a taking was he in, when your 
 husbiiiid iisked who was in tlie basket 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of 
 vvasliiuj; ; so throwing him into the water will do him 
 a beiieht. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal ! I would 
 all ol the siime strain were in the same distress. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. 1 think, my husband hath some special 
 suspicion of Falstatt' s being lieie, fi)r I never saw 
 him so gross in his jealousy till now. 
 
 Mrs. Pu'je. I will lay a plot to try that : and we 
 will yet lia\e more tricks with Falstatl": his disso- 
 lute disease will scarce obey this medicine. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Shall we send Uiat foolish carrion, 
 mistress t^uickly, to him, and excuse his throwing 
 into tlie water; and give him another hope, to be- 
 tray him to another punishment? 
 
 Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent for to- 
 tnoriiiw eit;lit o'clock, to have amends. 
 Weenie/- Ford, Page CM\is,ondSir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Ford. I cannot find liiin : may be, the knave 
 brag:.;ed of tliat he could not compass. 
 
 Mrs. Paije. Heard you tiiat? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace:— y>u use me well, 
 masti-r Ford, do you? 
 
 Fo/-(/. Ay, I do so. [thoughts! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven make vou better than your 
 
 Ford. Amen. Iter I'ord. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, mas- 
 
 Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it. 
 
 Eva. If lliere be any pody in the house, and in the 
 chamber?, and in the cotters, and in the presses, 
 heaven Ibrgive my sins at the dv.y of judgment .' 
 
 Cains, by gar, nor 1 too; dere is no bodies. 
 
 Page. Fie, fie, master Ford . are you not ashamed? 
 What spiiit, what devil suggests tuis imagination? 
 i would not have your distemper in this kind, tor 
 the wealth of Windsor Castle. 
 
 Furd. Tis my fault, master Page : I sufl'er for it. 
 
 Eva. Vou suiter for a pad conscience : your \vife 
 is as iionest a 'oinans, as I will desires auioiig five 
 thousand, and five luiiidred too. 
 
 Cains. By gar, I see 'tis an Iionest woman. 
 
 Ford. Well; — I promised you a dinner :— Come, 
 come, walk in the park : I pray you, pardon me ; 1 
 will hereafter make known to you, why 1 have done 
 this.— Come, wife;— come, mistresi Page; I pray 
 you. pardon me; pray heartily, pardon me. 
 
 Page. Lets go in, gentlemen ; but, trust me, we'll 
 mock liiiii. 1 do invite you to-m-urow morning to 
 my house to breakfast; after, well a-birdin< toge- 
 ther ; I tiave a fine hawk for the bush : snail it be so ? 
 
 Ford. -Any thing. [company. 
 
 Eva. if mere is one, I shall make two in tue 
 
 Cams. It tiieie be one or two, I shall make-a de 
 
 Eva III your teeth : for shame. [turd. 
 
 Ford. Pray you go, master Page. 
 
 Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow 
 on the lousy knave, n'ine host. 
 
 Caiits. Dat is good by gar, vit ;ill my heart. 
 
 Eva. A lousy krnve ; to have his gibes, and his 
 
 ockeries. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. j4 Room m Page's Hottse. 
 Enter Fenton and Mistress Anne PaGB. 
 
 Fent. I see, I cannot get thy father's love ; 
 Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 
 
 Anne. Alas I how then ? 
 
 Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. 
 
 He doth object, I am too great of birth; 
 And that, my state being gall'd with my eicpence. 
 I seek to heal it only by his wealth : 
 
 Besides these, other bars he lays before me, 
 
 Wy riots past, my wild societies; 
 And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible 
 I should love thee, but as a property. 
 
 Anne. May be, he tells you true. 
 
 Fe7it. No, heaven so speed me in my time to come. 
 Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth 
 Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne ; 
 Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value 
 Th^n stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags ; 
 And tis the \ery riches of thyself 
 Tliat now I aim at. 
 
 Anne. Gentle master Fenton, 
 
 Yet seek my father's love : still seek it, sir: 
 J t' opportunity and humblest suit 
 .Cannot attain it, why then— Hark you hither. 
 
 {T/iey converse apart,') 
 
 Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mas. Quickly. 
 
 Shal. Break their talk, mistress Quickly ; my 
 kinsman sliall speak for liiinself. 
 
 Sleii. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't : slid, 'tis but 
 venturing. 
 
 S/utl. Be not dismay 'd. 
 
 Slen. No, she shall not dismay me : I care not 
 for that, — but that 1 am afeard. 
 
 Quick Hark ye; master Slender would speak a 
 Word with you. 
 
 Anne. 1 come to him. — This is my father's choice, 
 O, what a world of \ile ill-favoiir'd taults 
 Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Quick. And how does good master Fentin ? Pray 
 you, a word with you. 
 
 Ska/. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou 
 hadst a father ! 
 
 Slen. I had a father, mistress Anne; — my uncle 
 can tell you good jests of him : — Pray you, uncle, 
 tell mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two 
 geese out of a pen, good uncle. 
 
 S/ial. Mistress Anue, my cousin loves you. 
 
 S/e7i. Ay, (hat 1 do ; as well as I love any woman 
 in (jloiicestershiie. 
 
 SAal. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman 
 
 Sten. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, un 
 der the degree of a 'squire. 
 
 S/iaL He will make you a hundred and fifty- 
 pounds jointure. [himself. 
 
 Anne. Good master Shallow, let him woo for 
 
 S/iaL Ma.>-ry, I thank you for it; I thank you for 
 that good comtiirt. — She calls you, coz : 1 11 leave you. 
 
 Anne. Now, master Slender. 
 
 Sien. Now, good Mistress Anne. 
 
 Anne. What is your will? 
 
 Sleu. iMy \\ill? 'od's heartlings, that's a pretty 
 jt-st, indeed ! I ne'er made my will yet, I tliank 
 Ilea \ en; I am not such a sickly creature, I give 
 heaven praise. f«ith me? 
 
 Anne. 1 mean, master Slender, what would you 
 
 Sle7t. Truly, for mine own part, I would liitle or 
 notiiing with you : your father, and my uncle, have 
 made motions: if it be my fuck, so; if not, happy 
 man be his dole ! They can tell you how things go, 
 better than I can : you may ask your father; hert 
 he comes. 
 
 Enter Pace atid Mistress Pace. 
 
 Page. Now, master Slender : — Love him, daugh- 
 ter Aline. — 
 Why, how now I Whit does master Fenton here' 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 45 
 
 You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house : 
 I told yoii, sir, rtiy daiisliter is disposed of. 
 
 Fenl. Nay, master Page, be nut impatient. 
 
 Mrs. Parje. Good master l-'entun, come not to my 
 
 PiKje. Slie is no matcli i'or yon. [child. 
 
 Fe7it. Sir, will you hear me ? 
 
 Page. No, good master Fenton. 
 
 Come, master Shallow; come, son Slender; in: — 
 
 Knowing my mind, yoii wron^ me, master Fenton. 
 
 [Exeunt Pc</e, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Quick. Speak to mistress P.»ge. [daughter 
 
 Pent. Good mistress Page, i'or that I love your 
 fn such a righteous fashion as I do. 
 Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, 
 I must advance the colours of my love. 
 And not retire: let me have your good will. 
 
 Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yood' 
 fool. [husband. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I mean it not ; I seek you a better 
 
 Quick. 'I'liat's my master, master doctor. 
 
 Anne. Alas, I had rather be. set quick i' the earth. 
 And bowld to death with turnips. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself : good 
 master Fenton, 
 I will not be yonr friend, nor enemy : 
 My daughter will I question how she loves you, 
 And as i fmd her, so am I atlected ; 
 'Till then, farewell, sir: — She must needs go in ; 
 Her father will be angry. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Page and Anne. 
 
 Pent. Farewell, gentle mistress: iarewell. Nan. 
 
 Quick. This is my doing now; — Nay, said i, will 
 you cast away your child on a fool, and a physician? 
 look on n)-ister Fenton : — this is my doing. 
 
 Pent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to night 
 Give my sweet Nan this ring : there's lor thy pains. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quick. Now heaven send thee good fortune ! A 
 kind heart he hath : a woman would run through tire 
 and water for such a kind heait. But yet, 1 would 
 my iiiasler had mistress Anne; or I would master 
 Slender h-ul iier ; or, in sooth, I would master Fenton 
 had her : I will do what I can for them all three ; for 
 so I have promised, and I'll be as good as my word ; 
 but speciously for master Fenton. Well, 1 must of 
 another errand to sir John Falstaff from my two mis- 
 tresses; what a beast am I to slack it! [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — A Room in the Garter Iii?t. 
 
 Enter F.4LsrAFF a7id B.\rdolph. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, I say, — 
 
 Bnrd. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack : put a toast m't. 
 [Exit Bard.] Have I lived to be carried in a basket, 
 like \ barrow of butcher's ollal ; and to be thrown 
 into thi^ Thames? Well, if I be served such another 
 trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out, and butter'd, and 
 give them to a dog for a new year's gilt. The rogues 
 slighted me into the river with as little remorse as 
 they would have drowned a bitch's blind puppies, 
 filteen i' the litter : and you tnay know by my size, 
 that 1 ha\e a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bot- 
 totn \vre as deep as liell, 1 should down. I had 
 been drowned, but th^t the shore was shelvy and 
 shallow; a death that I abhor; for the water swells 
 a man; and what a thing should I have been, when 
 I had been swelled ! I sliould have been a mountain 
 of mummy. 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph, toit/i the ivine. 
 
 Bard Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with 
 you. • 
 
 Fal. Come, let me pour in some .sack to the 
 Thames water; for my belly's as cold, as if 1 had 
 swallowed snow balls lor jiills to coo! the reins. C^ll 
 
 Bard. Couie in, woman. [her in. 
 
 Enter Mistre.<is Quickly. 
 
 Quick. By yiiur leave ; I cry you mercy : give 
 your woisliip good-morrow. 
 
 Fal. Take away these cludices : go brew ine a 
 pottle of sack finely. 
 
 Bard. With eggs, sir? 
 
 Fal Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my 
 brewag*. — [Exit Bardolph.] — How now ? 
 
 Quick. Many, sir, 1 come to your worship from 
 mistress Ford. 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough : I 
 was thrown into tiie ford : I have my b'-liy full ol ford. 
 
 Quick. Alas the day ! gO"d heart, tiiat was not her 
 lault : she does so take on with her men ; they mistook 
 their erection. [man's promise. 
 
 Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish wo- 
 
 Quick. Well, she laments, sir, lorit,'that it would 
 yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this 
 morning a-birding; she desires you once more to 
 come to her between eight and nine : I must carry 
 her word quickly : she'll make you amends, 1 warrant 
 yoij. 
 
 Fal. Well, I will visit her : tell her so; and bid 
 her think what a man is: let her consider his frailly, 
 and then judge of my merit. 
 
 Quick. I will tell her. 
 
 Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou? 
 
 Quick. Eight and nine, sir! 
 
 Fal. Weil, be gone : I will not miss her. 
 
 Quick. Peace be with you, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. 1 marvel, 1 hear not of master Brook : he 
 sent me word to stay within : 1 like his money well. 
 O, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Ford. 
 
 Ford. Bless you, sir ! 
 
 Fal. Now, master Brook ? you come to know 
 what hath passed between me and Foid's wife? 
 
 Ford. That, indeed, sir John, is my business. 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; I was at 
 her house the hour she appointed me. 
 
 Ford. And how sped you, sir? 
 
 Fnl. Very ill-favouredly, master Brook. 
 
 Ford. How so, sir? Did she change her deter- 
 mination? 
 
 Fal. No, master Brook ; but the peaking coniuto, 
 her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a continual 
 'laruni of jealousy, comes me in tiie instant ol our 
 encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, 
 and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy ; 
 and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thitliei 
 provoked and instigated by his distemper, and, for- 
 sooth, to search his house for his wife's love. 
 
 Ford. What, while you were there ? 
 
 Fal. While I was there. 
 
 Ford. And did he search for you, and could not 
 find you ? 
 
 Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, 
 comes in one mistress Page; gives intelligence of 
 Ford's approach ; and, by her invention and Find's 
 wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck- 
 
 Ford. A buck-basket I [basket. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket: rammed me in 
 with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, 
 and greasy napkins; that, master Brook, tliere was 
 the rankest compound of \illanous smell, that ever 
 oli'ended nostril. 
 
 Ford. And how long lay you there? 
 
 Fal. Nay, you shall hear, m.ister Brook, what I 
 ha\e suffered to briug (his woman to evil for your 
 good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple 
 of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were called forth by 
 their mistress, to carry me in the name oi foul clothes 
 to Datcliet lane : they took me on their shoulders; 
 met the jealous knave their master in the dixir, who 
 asked them once or twice what they had in their 
 basket: I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave 
 would !iave searched it; but fate, ordaining he should 
 be a cuckold, held his hand. Well : on went he for 
 a search, and away went I for foul cluthcs. But 
 mark the sequel, master Brook : I siilfeied the pangs 
 of three several deaths : first, an iutnleriible fright, 
 to be detected w.th a jealous rotten bell-wether; next. 
 
46 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 to be compassed, like a good bilbo, in the circum- 
 ference ol a peck, hilt to point, heel to head : and 
 then, to be stopped in, like a strong distillation, with 
 stinking clothes, that fretted in their own grease : 
 think of that, — a man of my kidney, — think cfthat; 
 that am as subject to heat, as butter; a man of con- 
 tinual dissolution and thaw ; it was a miracle to 
 'scape suilbcation. And in the height of this bath, 
 when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a 
 Dutch di.sh, to be thrown into the Thames, and 
 cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe ; 
 •jiiiik of that, — hissing hot, — think of that, master 
 Brook. 
 
 Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my 
 sake you have sutiered all this. My suit then is 
 desperate ; you'll undertake her no more. 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, 
 as I have been into Thames, ere I will teave her thus. 
 Her husband is this morning gone a-birding : 1 haie 
 received from her another embassy of meeting ; 'twixt 
 eight and nme is the hour, master Brook. 
 
 Ford. 'Tis past eight already, sir. 
 
 Fal. Is it? I will then add.ess me to my appoint- 
 ment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and 
 you shall know how I sjjeed ; and the conclusion 
 shall be crowned with your enjoying her : adieu. 
 Vou shnll have her, master Brook ; master Biook, 
 you shall cuckold Ford. [Exit. 
 
 Ford. Hum ! ha ! is this a vision ? is this a dream ? 
 do I sleep? Master Ford, awake; awake, master 
 Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, master 
 Ford. 'I'his 'tis to be married ! this 'tis to have linen 
 and buck-baskets! — Well, I will proclaim myself 
 what I am : I will now take the lecher; he is at my 
 house : he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impossible he 
 should ; he cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor 
 into a pepper-box ; but, lest the devil that guides 
 him should aid him, I will search impossible places. 
 'I'hounh what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I 
 would not, shall not make me tame ; if 1 have horns 
 to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, I'll 
 be horn-mad. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I.— The Street. 
 
 Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Qukikly, and 
 William. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Is he at master Ford's already, think'st 
 thouV 
 
 Quick. Sure he is by this, or will be presently; 
 but truly he is very courageous mad, about his 
 throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you 
 to come suddenly. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. I'll be with her bv and by; I'll but 
 bring my young man here to school. Look, where his 
 master comes; 'tis a playing day, I see. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 How DOW, sir Hugh? no school to-day ? [play. 
 
 Eva. No; master Slender is let the boys leave to 
 
 Quick. Blessing of his heart ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, my son 
 prohts nothmg in the world at his book ; I pray 
 you, ask him some questions iu his accidence. 
 
 Eva. Come hither, William ; hold up your head ; 
 come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah : hold up your head ; 
 answer your master, be not afraid. 
 
 Eva. William, how many numbers is in nouns ? 
 
 ffill. Two. 
 
 Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one num- 
 ber more ; because they say, od's nouns. 
 
 Eva. Peace your tattlings. — What is fair, Wil- 
 
 fTill. Pulclier. [liam? 
 
 Quick. Poidcats ! there are fairer things than 
 poulcats. sure. 
 
 Ev. You are a very simplicity 'oman; I pray 
 you, peace. — What is lapis, VVilliam ? 
 
 Will. A stoue. 
 
 Eva. And what is a stone, William? 
 
 Will. A pebble. [your prain. 
 
 Eva. No, it is lapis; I pray you remember in 
 
 fVill. Lapis. 
 
 Eva. 'that is good, William. What is he, Wil- 
 liam, that does Itiid articles ? 
 
 Will. Articles are borrowed of the pronouu; and 
 be thus declined, Singulariter, nominative, hie 
 licEc. hoc. 
 
 Ev. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; — pray you 
 mark ; genet ivo htijtis : well, what is your accusa- 
 tive case '/ 
 
 [fill. Accusativo, hinc. 
 
 Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child ; 
 Acrttsativo, hing, hang. hog. [you. 
 
 Quick. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant 
 
 Eva. Leave your prabbies, 'oman. What is the 
 focative case, William ? 
 
 Will. O — vocativo. O. 
 
 Eva. Remeniber, VVilliam, focative is caret. 
 
 Quick. And that's a good root. 
 
 Eva. 'Oman, Ibrbear. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Peace. 
 
 Ev. What is your genitive case plural, William ? 
 
 Will. Genitive case ? 
 
 Eva. Ay. 
 
 Will. Genitive, — horum, harum, horuin. 
 
 Quick. 'Vengeance of Jenny's case ! fie on her ! 
 — never name her, child, if she be a whore. 
 
 Eva. For shame, 'oman. 
 
 Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words: 
 he teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll 
 do fast enough of themselves, and to call horum: — 
 fie upon ynu ! 
 
 Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no 
 ui'derstandings for thy cases, and the numbers of 
 the genders: Thou art as foolish christian crea- 
 tures as I would desires. 
 
 Mrs. Paye. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace. 
 
 Eva. Shew me now, William, some declensions 
 of your pronouns. 
 
 fFilL Forsooth, I have forgot. 
 
 Eva. It is ki, k<s, cod; if you forget your kies, 
 your kas, and your cods, you must be preeches. 
 Go your ways, and play, go. [he was. 
 
 Mrs. Page. He is a better .scholar, than 1 thought 
 
 Eva. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, 
 mistress Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. [Exit Sir 
 Htigh.] Get you home, boy. — Come, we slay too 
 long. • [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Ford's House. 
 Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford. 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my 
 sufferance : I see, you are obsequious in your love, 
 and 1 profess requital to a hair's breadth ; not only, 
 mistress Ford, iu the simple office of love, but in all 
 the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony of it. 
 But are you sure of your husband now? 
 Mrs. Ford. He's a-birding, sweet sir John. 
 Mrs. Page. {Within.) What hoa, gossip Ford : 
 what hoa I 
 Mrs. Ford- Step into the chamber, sir John. 
 
 [Exit Falstaff 
 
 Enter Mistress Page 
 Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart? who's at 
 home beside yourself? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. 
 Mrs. Page. Indeed? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. No, certainly :— speak louder. {Aside.) 
 Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why? 
 
 rhere. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his 
 old lunes again : he so takes on yonder with my 
 husband; so rails against all married mankind ; so 
 curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion 
 soever; and so buffets himself on the forehead, 
 crying Peer-out, peer-out! that any madness, I ever 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 4T 
 
 yet beheld, seemed but tameness, civility, and pa- 
 iiem-.e, to tins his distemper he is in now : I am glad 
 the i'nt i;iii)>ht is not here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and swears, he 
 was carried out, the last time he searched for him, 
 in a basket : protests to my husband, he is now here ; 
 and iiath drawn him and tiie rest of their company 
 from their sport, to make anotlier experiment of his 
 suspicion ; but 1 am glad llie knight is not here ; now 
 he .shall see his own Ibolery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at street end ; he will be 
 here anon. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! — the knight is here. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, then you are utterly shamed, 
 and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you ? 
 — Away with him, away with him ; better shame 
 than murder. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how should 
 I bestow hiuj ? Shall I put him into the basket again '! 
 
 Reenter Falstafp. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I 
 not go out, ere he come ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's brothers 
 watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue 
 out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. 
 But what make you here? ichimney. 
 
 Fa/. What shall I do"? — I'll creep up into the 
 
 Mrs. Furd. There they always used to discharge 
 their birding pieces: creep into the kiln-hole. 
 
 Fa/. Where is it ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my word. 
 Neitlif r press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, ^ault, but 
 he hatii an abstract for the remembrance of such 
 places, and goes to them by his note : there is no 
 hiding you in the house. 
 
 Fa/. I'll go out then. 
 
 Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own semblance, 
 you die, sir John. Unless you go out disguised, — 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How migiit we disguise him? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There is 
 no won>an's gown big enough for him; otherwise, 
 he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and 
 so escape. 
 
 Fa/. Good hearts, devise something: any extre- 
 mity, rather than a mischief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of 
 Brentford, has a gown above. 
 
 Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's 
 as big as he is ; and there's her thruni'd hat, and her 
 muffler too: run up, sir John. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet sir John : mistress Page 
 and I will look some linen for your head. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Quick, quick ; we'll come dress you 
 straight: put on the gown the while. [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I would, my husband would meet 
 him in this shape : he cannot abide the old woman of 
 Brentford ; he swears, she's a witch ; forbade her 
 my house, and hath threatened to beat her. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's 
 cudgel; and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he; and 
 talks of the basket too, hotvsoever he hath had in- 
 telligence. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll tiy that; for I'll appoint my 
 men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the 
 door with it, as they did last time. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently : 
 let's go dress him like the witch of Brentford. ■ 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they 
 shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen 
 for him straight. [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we can- 
 not misuse him enough. 
 
 We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, 
 Wives may be merry, and yet honest too : 
 
 We do not act, that often jest and laugh ; 
 
 'Tis old but true, Sti/l swine eat all the draff". 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Re-en/er Mistress I-ord, tcith tivo Servants. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your 
 shoulders ; your master is hnrd at door ; ii he bid you 
 set it down, obey him : quickly, despatch. [Exit. 
 
 1 Sen'. Come, come, take it up. [again. 
 
 2 Serv. Pray heaven, it be not full of the kuigh 
 1 Serv. I hope not; 1 had as lief bear so much 
 
 lead. 
 Enter Ford, Page. Shallow, Caius. and Sir 
 
 Hugh Evans. 
 Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Pag-e, 
 have you any way then to unfool me again? — Set 
 down the basket, villain: — Somebody call my wife: 
 
 Vou, youth in a basket, come out here ! — O, 
 
 you panderly rascals ! there's a knot, a ging, a pack, 
 a conspiracy against me : now shall the devil be 
 shamed. \\ hat I wife, I say! come, come forth; 
 behold v\hat honest clothes you send forth to the 
 bleiching. 
 
 Page, Why, this passes; Master Ford, you are 
 not to go loose any longer; you must be pinioned. 
 
 Eva. Why this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad 
 
 dcg! [deed. 
 
 Shal. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; in- 
 
 Enter Mistress Ford. 
 Ford. So say 1 too, sir. — Come hither, mistress 
 Ford ; mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest 
 wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool 
 to her husband ! I suspect without cause, mistres.s, 
 do I ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you 
 suspect me in any dishonesty. 
 
 Ford. Well said, brazen-face ; hold it out. 
 
 Come forth, sirrah. 
 
 [Pii/ls the clothes out of the basket. 
 Page. This passes ! [alone. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Aie you not ashamed ? Ift the clothes 
 Ford. I shall find you anon. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis unreasonable ! Will you take up your 
 wifi''s clothes? Come away. 
 Ford. Empty the basket, I say. 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why — 
 Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one 
 conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket: 
 why may not he be there again? In my house 1 
 am sure he is : my iutelligence is true . my jealousy 
 is reasonable : pluck me out all the linen. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die 
 a flea's death. 
 
 Page. Here's no man. 
 
 Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford ; 
 this wronsis you. 
 
 Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not fol- 
 low the imaginations of yoiir own heart: this is 
 jealousies. 
 
 Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for. 
 Page. No, nor no where else, but in your brain. 
 Ford. Help to search my house this one time : if 
 I find not what I seek, show no colour for my ex- 
 tremity, let me for ever be your t<»ble-s|)ort ; let 
 tliem say of me, As jealous as Ford, that searched 
 a hollow walnut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me 
 once more ; once more search with me. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page ! come yon, 
 and the old woman, down ; my husband will come 
 into the chamber. 
 
 Ford. Old woman! What old woman's that? 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brent 
 ford. 
 
 Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! 
 Have 1 not forbid her my house ? She comes of 
 errands, does she ? We are simple men ; we do not 
 know vvhat's brought to pass under the profession 
 of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, 
 by the figure, and such daubery as this is ; beyond 
 our element: we know nothing. — Come down, you 
 witch, you hag you ; come down, i say . 
 
48 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act rv. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet nnsbiiml, — good 
 gentlemen, let hiiu not strike the old woman. 
 
 Enter Fals taff in ivomeri's clothes, led by Mistress 
 Pace. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, mother Prat, come, give me 
 yotir hand. 
 
 Ford. I'll prof her: Out of my door, you 
 
 witch {beats Aim), you rag, yon baggage, you j.ole- 
 cat, you ronyon! out! out! Ill conjure yon, I'll lur- 
 iine tell von. [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Airs. Paye. Are you not ashamed '! 1 think, you 
 fiave kilit'd the |)0or woman. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it:— 'Tis a goodly 
 credit lor you. 
 
 Ford. Hang her,' witch ! 
 
 Eva. By yea and no, 1 think, the 'oman is a witch 
 indeed : I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ; 
 I spy a great peard under her mnffler. 
 
 Ford. Will yon follow, gentlemen? I heseech 
 you, follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy : if I 
 cry out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I 
 open again. [come, gentlemen. 
 
 Page. Let's obey his humour a little further : 
 
 [Exeunt Page, Ford, SJiallotv, and Evans. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not ; 
 he beat him most nnpitifully, methonght. 
 
 M7-S. Page. Ill have the cudgel h.-»llowed, and 
 hung o'er the altar ; it hath done nu ritorious service. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What think you 'I May we, with the 
 warrant of womanhood, and the witness of a good 
 conscience, pursue him with any farther revenge ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, 
 scared out of him ; if the devil have him not in fee- 
 simple, with fi^ie and recovery, he will never, 1 think, 
 in the way of waste, attempt us again. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we 
 have served him ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but to 
 Bcrape the ligures out of your husband's brains. If 
 they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous fat 
 knight shall he any further afflicted, we two will still 
 be the ministers. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him publicly 
 shamed ; and, methinks, there would be no period to 
 the jest, should he not be publicly shamed. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape 
 it : I would nut have things cool. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in the Garter Inn, 
 Enter Host and Bardolph. 
 Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of 
 your horses: the duke himself will be to-morrow at 
 court, and they are going to meet him. 
 
 Host. What duke should that be, comes so se- 
 cretly 'l I hear not of him in the court: let me .speak 
 with the gentlemen ; they speak English ? 
 Bard. Ay, sir; I'll call them to yon. 
 Host. Tliey shall have my horses ; but I'll make 
 them pay, 111 sauce them: they have had my house 
 a week at command; I have turned away my other 
 guests: they must come oif; I'll sauce them: come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Ford's House. 
 
 EnlerFxoE, Ford, MistressF ace, MistressFoRD, 
 and Sir Hugh Fvans. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis one of the pe.st discretions of a 'oman as 
 ever 1 did loi>'.~ mixim. [an instant "i" 
 
 Page. And did he send yon both these letters at 
 
 Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Ford. Pardon me, wife : henceforth do what thou 
 I rather will suspect the sua with cold, [wilt ; 
 
 Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour 
 In him, that was of lute an heretic, [stand. 
 
 As firm as faith. 
 
 Pagt. 'Tis well, 'tis well ; no more. 
 
 Be nut as extreme in submission, 
 
 As in ollence ; 
 
 lint let our pl(;t go forward : let our wives 
 
 \ et once aHain, to make ns public spuit. 
 
 Appoint a nieetin^^ with this uiil fat fellow, 
 
 Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it. 
 
 Ford. I'here is no better way tliau that they 
 spoke oi. 
 
 Page. How ! to send him word they'll meet him 
 in file park at midnij hi! fie, fie; he'll never come. 
 
 Eva. You say, he hesbeen throvvn into the rivers; 
 and has been grievcusly peaten, as an old 'onian ; 
 methinks, there should be terrors in him, that he 
 should not come ; methinks, his llesh is puiiislied, he 
 shall have no desires. 
 
 Page. So tliink J too. [becomes, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when 
 And let us two devise to bring him thither. 
 
 M7-S. Page. Tuere is an old tale goes, that Heme 
 the htmter, 
 Sometime a keeper here in Windsor foiest. 
 Doth all the winter time, at still midnight. 
 Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; 
 And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; 
 And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a 
 In a most hideous and dreadful manner : [chain 
 
 You have heard of such a spirit; and well yon know. 
 The superstitions idle-headed eld 
 Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age. 
 This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth. 
 
 Page. VVhy, yet there want not many that do 
 In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak : [fear 
 But wiiat of this? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ; 
 That Falstati'at that oak shall meet with ns, 
 Di.iiguised like Heme, with huge horns on his head. 
 
 Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come 
 And in this shape : when you have brought him 
 
 thither, 
 What shall be done with him ? what is yonr plot ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thouglit upon, 
 and thus : 
 Nan Page, my daughter, and my little son, 
 And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress 
 Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white. 
 With rounds of waxen tapers on tlieir heads. 
 And rattles in their hands; uijon a sudden. 
 As Falstaif, she, and I, are newly met. 
 Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once 
 With some dilfused song ; upon their sight, 
 We two in great amazedness will fly : 
 Then let them all encircle him about. 
 And, fairy like, to pinch the unclean knight ; 
 And ask him, why, that hour of fairy revel. 
 In their so secret paths he dares to tread, 
 In shape profane. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, 
 
 Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, 
 And burn him with their tapers, 
 
 Mrs. Page. The truth being known. 
 
 We'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit. 
 And mock him home to Windsor. 
 
 Ford. The children must 
 
 Be practls'd well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. 
 
 Eva. I will teach the children their behaviours; 
 and I will be like a jack-a-napes also, to burn the 
 kniiiht with my taber. [vizards. 
 
 Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy (liem 
 
 Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all tiie 
 Finely attired in a robe of white. [fairies. 
 
 Page. That silk will I go buy :— and in that time 
 Shall master Slender steal my Nan away, (Aside.) 
 
 And marry her at Eton. Go, send to lalstaii 
 
 straight. 
 
 Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in the name of Brook 
 Hell tell me all his purpose : sure, he'll come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fear not you that: go, get ns pro- 
 And tricking for our fairies. [perties, 
 
 Eva. Let us about it : it is admirable pleasures, 
 and very honest knaveries. 
 
 [Exeunt Page, Ford, and Evanh 
 
SCGNB 6. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 49 
 
 Mrs. Pay If. Go, Mrs. Ford, 
 Send quickly to Sir Juhu, to know liis mind. 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Ford. 
 I'll to the doctor; he hath my good will, 
 And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. 
 That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot ; 
 And he my husband best of all allects : 
 The doctor is well money'd, and liis friends 
 Potent at court; he, none but he, shall have her. 
 Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. 
 
 lExit 
 Scene V. — A Room in the Garter Inn. 
 Enter Host and Suiple. 
 
 Host. What would'st thou have, boor? wtat, 
 thick-skin ? speak, breathe, discuss ; brief, short, 
 quick, snap. 
 
 Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir John 
 Faistaff from my master Slender. 
 
 Host. There's his chamber, his house, his castle, 
 his standing-bed, and truckle-bed ; 'tis painted 
 about with the story of the prodigal, fresh and new : 
 ho, knock and call; he'll speak like an ^^«</iro/}o- 
 phaainian unto thee : knock, I say. 
 
 Svn. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone 
 np into his chamber : I'll be so bold as stay, sir, 
 till she come down : I come to speak with her. 
 indeed. 
 
 Host. Ha ! a fat woman I the knight may be 
 robbed : I'll call. — Buily knight ! Bully sir John ! 
 speak from thy lungs military : art thou there ? it 
 is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls. 
 
 Fal. [Above.) How now, mine host? 
 
 Host. Here's a Ijohemian-Tartar tarries the com- 
 ing down of thy fat woman : let her descend, bully, 
 let her descend ; my chambers are honourable : fye ! 
 privacy ? fye I 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman even 
 now with me ; but she's gone. [Brentford ? 
 
 Sim. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of 
 
 Fal. Ay, marry, was it, muscle-shell : what would 
 you with her ? 
 
 Sim My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to 
 her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, 
 sir, whetiier one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a 
 chain, had the chain, or no. 
 
 Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. 
 
 Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir? 
 
 Fal. JMarry, she says, that the very same man, 
 that beguiled master Slender of his chain, cozened 
 him of it. 
 
 Sim. I would I could have spoken with the wo- 
 man herself; I had other things to have spoken with 
 her too, from him. 
 
 Fal. What are they ? let us know. 
 
 Host. Ay, come ; qiiick. 
 
 Sim. I may not conceal them, sir. 
 
 Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest. 
 
 Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about mi». 
 tress Ann Page : to know if it were my master's 
 fortune to have her, or no. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune. 
 
 Sim. What, sir? [told me so. 
 
 Fal. To have her, — or no: go; 1 say the woman 
 
 Sim. May I be so bold to say so, sir? 
 
 Fal. Ay, sir Tike ; who more bold ? 
 
 Sim. I thank your worship : I shall make my 
 master glad with these tidings. [Exit Sitnple. 
 
 Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, sir John. 
 Was there a wise woman with thee ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host ; one, that 
 hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before 
 in my life : and I paid nothing for it neither, but 
 Was paid for my learning. 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Out. alas, sir ! cozenage ! mere cozenage ! 
 Host. Where be my horses? speak well of them, 
 varletto. 
 
 Hard. Rim away wilh the cozeners: for so soon 
 as I came beyond Eton, they threw me oil", from 
 behind one of them, in a slough of mire: and f^'t 
 spurs, and away, like three German devils, three 
 Doctor Fausttises. 
 
 Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, vil- 
 lain : do not say, they be fled ; Germans are honest 
 men. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Eva. Where is mine host ? 
 
 Host. What is the matter, sir ? 
 
 Eva. Have a care of your entertainments: there 
 is a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there is 
 tliree cousin Germans, that has cozened all the 
 hosts of Reading, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, 
 of horses and money. I tell you for good-will, 
 look you : you are wise, and full of gibes and 
 vlouting stogs ; and 'tis not convenient you should 
 be cozened : fare you well. ZExit. 
 
 ■ Enter Dr. Caius. 
 
 Cuius. Veie is mine host de Jarterre ? 
 
 Host- Here, master doctor, in perplexity, and 
 doubtful dilemma. 
 
 Cniiis. I cannot tell vat is dat : but it is tell-a 
 me, dat you make grand preparation for a duke 
 de Jarmany . by my trot, dere is no duke, dat de 
 court is know to come ; I tell you for good vill ; 
 adieu. {Exit. 
 
 Host. Hue and cry, villain, go : — assist me, knight ; 
 f am undone : — fly, run, hue and cry, viflain, I am 
 "udone ! {Exeunt Host andBardolph. 
 
 Fal. I would all the world might be cozened : for 
 [have been cozened and beaten too. If it should 
 come to the ear of the court, how I have been 
 transformed, and how my transformation hath been 
 washed and cudgeled, they would melt me out of 
 my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots 
 with me ; I warrant they would whip me with their 
 line wits till I were as crest-fallen as a dried pear. 
 I never prospered since I forswore myatMaiprimero. 
 Well, if my wind were but long enough to say my 
 prayers, I would repent. — i 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Now ! whence come you ? 
 
 Quick. From the two parties, forsooth. 
 
 Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam the 
 oilier, and so they shall be both bestowed ! I have 
 siifl'ered more for their sakes, more, than the villanous 
 inconstancy of man's disposition is able to beai. 
 
 Quick. And have not they sutfered ? Yes, I war- 
 rant; speciously one of them ; mistress Ford, good 
 heart, is beaten black and blue, that you cannot see 
 a white spot about her. 
 
 Fal. What tell'st thou nie of black and blue ? I 
 was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow ; 
 and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of 
 Brentford ; but that my admirable dexterity of wit, 
 my cotmterfeiting the action of an old woman, de- 
 livered me, the knave constable had set me i' the 
 stocks, i' the common stocks, for a witch. 
 
 Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your cham- 
 ber : you shall hear how things go; and, I warrant, 
 to your content. Here is a letter will say souie- 
 what. Good hearts, what a do here is to bring you 
 together ! Sure, one of you does not serve heaven 
 well, that you are so crossed. 
 
 Fal. Come up into my chamber, [Exeunl. 
 
 ScEN'E VI. — A nother Room in the Garter Inn. 
 Enter Fenton and Host. 
 
 Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my nund 
 is heary, I will give over all. 
 Fent. Yet hear me speak : assist me in my pur 
 pose, 
 .\nd, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee 
 A hundred pounds in gold more than your loss. 
 
 6 
 
60 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Hust. I will hear yoii, master Fenton ; aud I 
 will, at the least, keep your counsel. 
 
 Feiit. From time to time I have acquainted you 
 Witli the dear love I bear to fair Anne P.ige ; 
 VViio, mutually, hath aiiswer'd my alfection 
 (80 far forth as herself might be her chooser,) 
 Even to my wish : 1 have a letter Irotn her 
 Of such contents as you will wonder at; 
 'j'he mirth whereof so larded with my matter, 
 That neitiier, singly, can be manifested, 
 WitJiout the show of both ; — wlierein fat Falstaff 
 Hath a great scene : the imyge of tlie jest 
 
 (Showimj the letter.) 
 I'll siiow yon here at large. Harli, good mme host : 
 To-night at Heme's caiv, just "twixt twelve and one, 
 Must my sweet Nan present the tairy queen : 
 Tlie purpose why, is lieie; in which disguise, 
 VVhile otlier jests are something rank on foot. 
 Her father iiath commanded iier to slip 
 Away with Slender, and with him to l^ton 
 In)mediately to marry : she hath consented : 
 Now, sir. 
 
 Her mother, even strong .ngainst that match, 
 And firm for doctor Gains, hath appointed 
 That lie shall likewise shuffle her away, 
 While other sports are tasking of their minds. 
 And at tlie deanery, where a priest attends, 
 ytraight marry her : to this her niother's plot 
 JShe, seemingly obedient, likewise hatli 
 Made promise to the doctor ; — Now, thus it rests : 
 Her father means she sliall be all in white ; 
 And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
 To take her by the hand, and bid her go, 
 She shall go with him : — her mother hath intended. 
 The better to denote her to tlie doctor, 
 {For they must all be mask'd and vizarded,) 
 That, quaint in green, she shall be loose enrob'd, 
 Witli ribbands pendant, tiaiiiig 'bout her head ; 
 And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe. 
 To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, 
 The maid liatli gi\en consent to go with him. 
 
 Host. Whicli means she to deceive"? father or 
 mother'.' 
 
 Pent. Both, my good host, to go along with nie : 
 And here it rests, — that you'll procure the vicar 
 To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve aud one. 
 And. in the lawful name of marrying, 
 'I'o give our hearts united ceremony. [vicar; 
 
 Host. Well, husband your device; I'll to the 
 Bring you the inaid, you shall not lack a priest. 
 
 Fent. So shall 1 ever more be bound to thee; 
 Besides, I'll make a present recompense. [Exeuiil. 
 
 ACT V. — Scene I. — A Room in the Garter Inn. 
 Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythee, no more pratt'ling ; — go I'll 
 
 hold, this IS the third time; 1 hope, good hick 
 lies in odd numbers. Away, go ; they say, there is 
 divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, 
 or death. — Away. 
 
 Quick. I'll provide you a chain : and I'll do what 
 [ can to get you a pair of horns. 
 
 Fal. Away, I say ; time wears : hold up your head, 
 and mince. [Exit Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Enter FoKD. 
 How now, master Brook ';' Master Brook, the matter 
 will be known to-iiiglit, or never. Be you in the 
 Park about midnight, at Heme's oak, and you shall 
 see wonders. 
 
 Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you 
 told me you had appointed'? 
 
 Fal, I went to her, master Brook, as you see, 
 like a poor old man : but I came frnm her, master 
 Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave, 
 her husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy 
 in him, master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. 
 "I will tell you. — He beat me grievously, in the shape 
 of a woman ; for in the shape of man, inaster Brook, 
 'i Ceai not Goliah will) a weaver's beam; because I 
 
 know also, life is a shuttle. I am in haste , go along 
 with me; I'll tell you all, master Brook. Since I 
 phick'd geese, play'd truant, and whip'd top, I knew 
 not what it was to be beaten, till lately. Follow me • 
 I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford : on 
 whom to night I will be revenged, and I will deliver 
 his wife into your hand. — Follow: strange things in 
 hand, master Hi 00k ! follow. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — Windsor Park. 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Page. Come, come : we'll couch i' the castle- 
 ditch, till we see the light of our I'airies. — Reniem 
 ber, son Slender, my daughter. 
 
 S^e7i. Ay, forsooth ; 1 have spoke with her, and 
 we have a nay-word, how to know one another. I 
 come to her in white, and cry, mum; she cries, 
 budget ; and by that we know one another. 
 
 Shal. That's good too: but what needs either your 
 mum, or her budget t the white will decipher her 
 well enough. — It hath struck ten o'clock. 
 
 Page. The night is dark; light aud spirits \>ill 
 become it well. Heaven prosper our sport ! No man 
 means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by 
 his horns. Let's away ; follow me. .Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The Street in Windsor. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Dr. Caius. 
 
 Mrs Page. Master Doctor, my daughter is in 
 green : when you see your time, take her by the 
 liand, away with her to the deanery, and despatcii 
 it quickly : go before into the park ; we two must 
 go together. 
 
 Cains. I know vat I have to do ; adieu. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit Caius. 
 
 My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of 
 Falstaff, as he will chale at the doctor's marrying my 
 daughter : but 'tis no matter; better a little chiding, 
 than a great deal if heart break. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of 
 fairies '.' and the Welch devil, Hugh 'I 
 
 Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit haril by 
 Heme's oak, with obscure lights ; which at the vci) 
 instant of Falstalf's and our meeting, they will at 
 once disiday to the night. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him. 
 
 Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will be 
 mocked ; if he be amazed, he will every way be 
 mocked. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. [lechery, 
 
 Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and their 
 Those that betray them do no treachery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on ; to the oak, to 
 the oak I [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Windsor Park. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans, and Fairies. 
 
 Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember 
 
 your parts : be pold, I pray you: follow me into the 
 
 pit; and when I give you the watch-'ords, do as I 
 
 pid you ; come, come ; trib, trib. [Exeunt- 
 
 Scene V. — Another part of the Park. 
 Enter Falstaff disguised, with a buck's head on 
 Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve : the 
 minute draws on; now, the hot-blooded gods assist 
 me : — Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy 
 Europa ; love set on thy horns. — O, powerful love I 
 that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; iu 
 some other, a man a beast. — You were also, Jupiter, 
 a swan, for the love of Leda : — O, omnipotent lov 
 how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose 
 — A fault done fir.st in the form of a beast;— O. Jove, 
 a beastly fiult! and then another fault in the sem- 
 blance of a ibwl- think on't, Jove; a foul fault- 
 When gods have dot backs, what shall piwr men do'? 
 For me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest, 
 I think, i' the forest: send me a cool rut time, Jove, 
 or who can blame me to piss my tallow 'J-^Who 
 comes here '' my doe '? 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 MERRY Wn^ES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 n 
 
 Enter Mrs. Ford and Mrs. P.\ge. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my deer, 
 my iii.ile deer ? 
 
 Fal. My doe with the black sent? — Let the sky 
 rain jjotatoes; Vi it thunder to the tnne of Greeii 
 Sleeves ; hail kissinp; comfits, and snow eringoes ; It-t 
 there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter 
 me here. [Embracing her.) 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, 
 sweetheart. 
 
 Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haimch : 
 I will keep my sides to myselt, my shoulders for the 
 fellow of this walk, and my horns 1 bequeath to your 
 husbands. Am I a woodman? ha! Speak I like 
 Heme the hunter? — Why, now is Cupid a child of 
 conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am a true 
 spirit, welcome I (Noise witliin.) 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas! what noise? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven Ibrsive our sins! 
 
 Fal. What should this be ? 
 
 firl: fage. } ^^'"'^' ^^"y- (^^'^^^ ''«" "-^^ 
 Fal. I think the devil will not have me dnmned, 
 
 lest the oil that is in "me should set hell on fire ; he 
 
 would neverelse cross me thus. 
 
 Enter Sir HrcH Evans, like a satyr; Mrs. 
 Quickly, and Pistol ; Anne Page, as the Fairy 
 Queen, attended by her brother and others, 
 dressed like fairies, with waxen tapers on their 
 heads. 
 
 Quick. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white. 
 You moonshine revellers, and shades of night. 
 You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny. 
 Attend your office, and your quality. — 
 Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes. [toys. 
 
 Pist. Elves, list your names; sik-nce, yoii airy 
 Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: 
 Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearts unswejit. 
 There |)inch the maids as blue as bilberry: 
 Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. 
 
 Fal. Tiiey are fairies; he ttiat speaks to them, 
 shall die: 
 I'll wink and couch : no man tli^-ir works mnst e5-e. 
 [Lies down upon his face.) 
 
 Eva. Where's Pedef — Go you, and wticre you 
 find a maid, 
 That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said. 
 Raise up the organs of her fantasy, 
 Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; 
 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins. 
 Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and 
 
 Quick. About, about; [shins. 
 
 Search Windsnr-castle, elves, within and out: 
 Strew good luck, onphes, on every sacred room ; 
 That it may stand till the perpetual doom, 
 [n state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit; 
 Worthy the owner, and the owner it. 
 'I'he several chairs of order look you scour 
 With.iuice of balm, and every precious llower: 
 Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest. 
 With loyal blazon, evermore be blest! 
 And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, 
 liike to the Garter's compass, in a ring: 
 The expressiire that it bears, green let it be. 
 More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; 
 And, Huny soil qui mnl y pense, write. 
 In emerald tiilts, fiowers purple, blue, and white: 
 Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embifii'leiy, \ 
 
 Buckled below fair kniuhfhaod's bending knee: > 
 Fairies use flowers lor their charactery. J 
 
 Away ; disperse : but, till 'tis one o"cl(«:k. 
 Our dance of custom, round about the oak 
 Of Heme the hunter, let us not forget. 
 
 Ev(f. Pray you, lock hand iu hand ; your.sel\es in 
 order set: 
 And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, 
 't"o guide our measure round about the tree. 
 But, stay ; I smell a man of middle earth. 
 
 Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welch fairy ! 
 Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese ! 
 Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'er-look'd even in 
 thy birth. 
 
 Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end: 
 If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, 
 And turn him to no pain ; but if he start. 
 It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. 
 
 Pist. A trial, come. 
 
 Eva. Come, will this wood take fire? 
 
 [They burn him tvith their tapers.) 
 
 Fal. Oh, oh, oh : ^ '' 
 
 Quick. Cui nipt, corrupt, and tainted in desire ! 
 About him, fairies ; sing a scornful rhyme : 
 .4nd, as you trij), still pinch him to your time. 
 
 Eva. it is right; indeed he is full of lecheries and 
 iniquity. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Fie on sinful fantasy '. 
 
 Fie on lust and luxury ! 
 
 Lust is but a bloody fire. 
 
 Kindled with unchaste desire. 
 
 Fed in heart ; whose fiames a.ipire. 
 
 As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher 
 
 Pinch him. fairies, mutually ; 
 
 Pinch him for his villany ; 
 Pinch him, and burn him. and turn him about, 
 Till candles, and starlight, and moonshine be out 
 
 During this song, the fairies pinch Falstoff. 
 Doctor Caius comes one way, and steals away 
 a fairy in green; Slender another way, and 
 takes off a fairy in tvhite ; and Fenton comes, 
 and steals away Mrs. Anne Page. A noise of 
 hunting is made within. All the fairies run 
 away. FalstaJf'pullsoJ/his bucks head, andrises. 
 
 Eriter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Ford. 
 
 They lay hold of him. 
 
 Page. Nay, do not fly ; I think, we have watch'd 
 j'ou now : 
 Will none but Heme the hunter serve your turn? 
 
 Mrs. Page. 1 pray you, come ; hold up the jest no 
 hi^;her: — 
 Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives? 
 See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes 
 Become the forest better than the town ? 
 
 Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? — Master 
 Brook, FalstatTs a knave, acuckoldly knave; here 
 are his horns, master Brook ; and, master Brook, he 
 hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, 
 Ilis cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which 
 must be paid to Master Brook ; his horses are 
 arrested f^)r it, master Brook. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we 
 could never meet. I will never take you for my 
 love again, but I will always count you my deer. 
 
 Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass. 
 
 Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; botii the proofs are 
 extant. 
 
 Fal. .Xnd these are not fairies? I was three or 
 four times in the thought, they were not fairies: and 
 yet the guiltiness of iny mind, the sudden surprise 
 of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery 
 into a received belief, in despite of (he teeth of all 
 rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now, 
 how wit may be made a Jack-a lent, when 'tis upon 
 ill emftliiyiiient ! 
 
 Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your 
 desires, and fairies will not pinse you. 
 
 Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. ^yon 
 
 Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray 
 
 Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till 
 thou art able to wtx) her in good English. 
 
 Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried 
 it, that it wants matter to (irevent so gross o'er- 
 .-eaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch gnat 
 too? Shall I have a coxcomb of fiize? Tis time 
 I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese. 
 
52 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Kva. Seese is not good to give putter ; your pelly 
 u iill piitter. 
 
 Fed. Sei'se and putter! have I lived to stand at 
 Hie taunt of one tliat niakes fritters of English? This 
 is enough to be the decay of hist and late-walking, 
 throngli the realm. 
 
 M7S. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though 
 we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the 
 head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without 
 scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made 
 you our delight? 
 
 Ford. What, a hodge- pudding? a bag of flax? 
 
 Mm. Page. Apulftdman? [trails? 
 
 Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable en- 
 
 Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ? 
 
 Page. And as poor as Job ? 
 
 Ford. And as wicked as his wife? 
 
 Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, 
 and sack, and wine, and nietheglins, and »o drinkings, 
 and swearings, and slarings, pribbles, and prabhies? 
 
 Fal. Well, I am your theme : you have the start 
 of me ; I am dejected ; I am not able to answer the 
 Welch flannel : ignorance itself is a plummet o'er 
 nie ; use me as you will. 
 
 Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to 
 one master Brook, that you have cozened of money, 
 to whom you should have been a pander: over and 
 above that you have suflered, I think, to repay that 
 money will be a bitina: affliction. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make 
 amends : 
 Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. 
 
 Ford. Well, here's my hand ; all's forgiven at last. 
 
 Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : thou shalt eat a 
 posset to-night at my house ; where I will desire thee 
 to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee : tell 
 her, master Slender hath married her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page be 
 my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Cains' wife. 
 
 i^Aside.) 
 
 Enter Slender. 
 
 Skn. Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page ! 
 
 Page. Son! how now? how now, son? have you 
 despatched ? 
 
 Slen. Desiiatched !— I'll make the best in Gloces- 
 tershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else. 
 
 Page. Of what, son? 
 
 Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress 
 Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy : if it had 
 not been i' the church, I would ha\e swinged him, 
 or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it 
 had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 
 'tis a post-master's boy. 
 
 Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong. 
 
 Slen. What need you tell me that ? I think so. 
 when 1 took a boy for a girl : if I had been married 
 to him, for a I he was in woman's apparel, I would 
 oot have had him. 
 
 Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell 
 you, how you should know my daughter by her gar- 
 nicuti '' 
 
 Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd ;rt»«m,and 
 she cried budget, as Anne aud i had appointed j and 
 yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. 
 
 Eva. Jeshu ! Master Slender, cannot you see but 
 marry boys ? 
 
 Page. O, I am vexed at heart: what shall 1 do? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry : 1 knew 
 of your purpose ; turned my daughter into green ; 
 and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the 
 deanery, and there married. 
 
 Enter Caius. 
 
 Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am 
 cozened; I ha' married tm gargon, a boy ; un }iay- 
 san, by gar, a boy ; it is not Anne Page : by gar, I 
 am cozened. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green ? 
 
 Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy : be gar, I'll raise 
 all Windsor. [Exit Vaius. 
 
 Ford. This is strange : who hath got the right 
 Anne? 
 
 Page. My heart misgives me : here comes master 
 Fenton. 
 
 Enter Fenton anrf Anne Page. 
 
 How now, master Fenton? [pardon! 
 
 Anne, Pardon, good father ! good my mother, 
 
 Page. Now, mistress ! how chance you went not 
 with master Slender ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doc- 
 tor, maid ? 
 
 Fent. You do amaze her; hear the truth of it. 
 You would have married her most shamefully. 
 Where there was no proportion held in love. 
 The truth is, She and I, long since contracted. 
 Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. 
 The offence is holy, that she hath committed ; 
 And this deceit loses the name of craft. 
 Of disobedience, or unduteous title : 
 Since therein she doth evitate and shun 
 A thousand irreligious cursed hours, [her. 
 
 Which forced marriage would have brought upon 
 
 Ford. Stand not amazed : here is no remedy : — 
 In love, the heavens themselves do guide the .state j 
 Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. 
 
 Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special 
 stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. 
 
 Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give 
 thee joy ! 
 \N'^hat cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd 
 
 Fal, When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are 
 chas'd. 
 
 Eva. 1 will dance and eat plums at your wedding. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further . — 
 Master Fenton, 
 Heaven give you many, many merry days! — ' 
 Good husband, '.et us every one go 'ome. 
 .And laugh this sport o'er by a country tire ; 
 Sir Jihn and all. 
 
 Fo^d. Let it be so:— Sir John, 
 To master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; 
 For he, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. [Fxeutit 
 
I 
 
 •ir, 
 
 Q 
 < 
 
 ■< ^ 
 
 o 
 
 h1 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 This play is in the graver par* elesant and e»xy, and in s^me of the lighter scenes exquisitely hnmon.m, Aguo- 
 ehepk is drawn with Krcat proprietv, but liis rhariioter U, in a great mensure, that of natural fatuity, and is there- 
 fore not the proper prey of a satirist. The soliloquy of Malvolin is trulv comic ; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by 
 iiis pride. iTie marriage of Olivia, and the su ceeding pt-rplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the 
 sta-'e. wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no jus' 
 
 picture of life. 
 
 JaknsoH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 ORSrNO. Ditke vf Ulyrta. 
 
 SEBASTIAN, a young Gentleman, Brother to Viiihi 
 ANTONIO, a Sea Captain, Friend to Sebastian. 
 A Sea Captain, friend io Viola. 
 
 CURHX^'^^" I C!f7}t!emeu attendiag onthe Duke. 
 -SIR TOBY BRLCH, Vnrle of Olivia. 
 SIR ANDREW AGUE CHEEK. 
 
 SrALVlOLIO, Steward to Olivia. 
 
 ^clnvn^' } *<■'■'''"''•' '" Olivia. 
 OLIVIA, a rich Coi/ntess. 
 VIOL\, in luve with the Duke. 
 M.VRIA, OliriaS Woman. 
 Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, 
 Attendants. 
 
 Mtesicians and other 
 
 Scene, — A City in Ilhjria ; and the Sea coast near it. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 Scene I. — An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Duke, Curio, Lords : Musicians attendiwj. 
 
 Duke. If tinisic be the food of love, play on. 
 Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting; 
 
 'J'he appetite may sicken, and so die. 
 
 'I'liat strain again; — it iiad a dying fall: 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
 Tliat breathes upon a bank of violets. 
 Stealing, and giving odour. — Enough: no more, 
 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before, 
 t) sf)irit of love, how quick and fresh artfclioa! 
 'I'liat, notwithstanding tiiy caj^city 
 Heceiveth as the sea, nought enters there, 
 Of what validity and pitch soever. 
 Hut falls into abatement and low price, 
 Even in a minute ' so full of shapes is fancy, 
 'J'ii^it it alone is high-fanta.stical. 
 
 Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? 
 
 Duke. What Curi.. ? 
 
 Cur. The hart. 
 
 Duke. Why^ so I do, the noblest that I have : 
 O, vviieu mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
 Methouglit she purged the air of pestilence : 
 Tiiat instant was 1 turn'd into a hart; 
 And uiy de.^ires, like fell and cruel hounds, 
 E'er since pursue nie. - How now? what news from 
 her? 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 
 Val. So please my lord, I might not be admitted. 
 But from her handmaid do return this answer: 
 'I'lie element itself, till seven years heat. 
 Shall not behold her face at ample view; 
 But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk, 
 And water once a-day her chamber round 
 With eye offending brine : all this, to season 
 A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh, 
 And lasting, in her sad remembrance. 
 
 Duke. 0, she that hath a heart of that fine frame. 
 To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
 How will she love, when the rich golden shaft 
 Hath kill'd the flock of all alFections else 
 That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, 
 These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd, 
 ( Her sweet perfections) with one self king!— ^ 
 Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; 
 Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Sea-coast. 
 Etder Viola, Captain, and Sailors. 
 Vio. What country, friends, is this? 
 
 Cap. . Illyria, lady 
 
 Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? 
 My brother he is in Elysium. sailors ? 
 
 Perchance he is not drown'd : — VVhat think yon, 
 
 Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were saved. 
 
 Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, 
 may he be. [^chance. 
 
 Cap. True, madam : and, to comfort you with 
 *ssure yourself, after onr ship did split, 
 \Vhen you, and that poor number saved with yon, 
 (lung on our driving boat, I saw your brother. 
 Most provident in peril, bind himself 
 ''Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) 
 To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; 
 Where, like Arion on the dolphin's hack, 
 I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, 
 .ft) long as I could see. 
 
 Vio. For saying so, there's gold- 
 
 Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope. 
 Whereto thy speech serves for authority. 
 The like of him. Know'st thou this country? 
 
 Cap. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and born 
 Not three hours' travel from this very place. 
 
 Vio. Who governs here ? 
 
 Cap. A noble duke, in nature. 
 
 As in his name. 
 
 Vio. What is his name ? 
 
 Cap. Orsino. 
 
 Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him : 
 Hi' was a bachehir then. 
 
 Cap. And so is now. 
 
 Or was so very late : for but a month 
 -Ago I went from hence; and then 'twas fresh 
 In murmur, ( as, you know, what great ones do, 
 'i'lie less will prattle of, ) that he did seek 
 The love of fair Olivia. 
 
 Vio. Whafs she? 
 
 Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count , 
 That died some twelve month since; then leaving her 
 In the protection of his son, her brother, 
 Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, 
 'They say, she hath abjured the company 
 And sight of men. 
 
 Vio. O, that I served that lady 
 
 \nd might not be delivered to the world. 
 Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
 What my estate is. 
 
 Cap. That were hard to compass ; 
 
 Because she will admit no kind of suit. 
 No. not the duke's. 
 
 Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captaiu; 
 And tiiough that nature vvith a beauteous wall 
 Doth ol't close in pollution, yet of thee 
 1 wiil believe, thou hast a mind that suits 
 
54 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 With this thy fair and outward character. 
 I pray thee, and I'll pay (hee bounteously. 
 Conceal nie what I am, and be my aid 
 For such disguise as, haply, shall become 
 'J'he Ibrni of my intent. I'll serve this duke; 
 Thou shall present nie as an eunuch to him, 
 It rn^y be worth thy pains; for I can sing. 
 And speak to him in n>any sorts of nuissu, 
 Tiiat will allow me very worth his service. 
 VVIiat else may hap, to time I will commit; 
 Only shape thou tliy silence io my wit. 
 
 Cfip. Be you his eunuch, and your mute lil be : 
 When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyts not see ! 
 
 Vio. I thank thee : lead me on. \ Exeiint. 
 
 Scene III. — A Room hi Olivia's house. 
 Enter 8iR Toby Belch and Makia. 
 
 Sir T. What a plague means my niece, to take 
 the death oi' her biotlier thus';" I am sure, care's an 
 enemy to life. 
 
 Mar. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in 
 earlier o'mghts ; your cousin, my lady, takes great 
 exceptions to your ill hours. 
 
 Sir To. Wliy, let her except before excepted. 
 
 Mar. Ay. but you must confine yoursell within 
 the modest limits of order. 
 
 Sir To. Confine ! I'll confine myself no finer than 
 I am : these clothes are good enough to drink in, 
 and so be these boots too ! an they be not, let them 
 hang themseUes in their own straps. 
 
 Mar. 'i'hat (jnaSing and drinking will undo you : 
 I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a 
 foolish knight, that you brought in one night heie 
 to be her wooer. 
 
 Sir To. Wiio? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek? 
 
 Mar. Ay, he. 
 
 Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in lilyria. 
 
 Mar. Wh^fs that to the purpose? 
 
 Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a-year. 
 
 Mar. Ay; but he'll havf but a year in all these 
 ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal. 
 
 Sir To. Fye, ttiat you'll say so ! he plays o'the 
 viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or four languages 
 wonl for word without book, and iiafh all the good 
 gilts ot nature. 
 
 Mar. lie hath, indeed, — almost natural : for, be- 
 sides that he's a fool, he's a gieut quarreller; and, 
 but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the 
 gust lie hath in quarielling, 'tis thought among the 
 prudent, he would quickly have the gilt of a grave. 
 
 Sir To. By this iiand, they are scoundrels, and 
 substractors, that say so of him. Who are they ? 
 
 Mar. 'I'hey that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly 
 in your company. 
 
 Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece ; I'll 
 drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my 
 throat, and drink in Illyria : he's a coward, and a 
 coystril, that will not drink to my niece, till his 
 brains turn o' the toe like a parish top. What, 
 wen(-h? Castillano viilgo; for here comes sir An- 
 drew Ague-face. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. 
 
 Sir A. Sir Toby Belch ! how now, .sir Toby Belch ? 
 
 Sir To. Sweet sir Andrew! 
 
 Sir And. Uless you, fair shrew. 
 
 Mar. And you too, sir. 
 
 Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost. 
 
 Sir And. What's that"!" 
 
 Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire better ac- 
 
 Mar. My name is Mary, sir. Lquaintance. 
 
 Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost 
 
 Sir To. Vou mis'ake, kmgiit; accost, is, front 
 her, board her, woo her, assail her. 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, 1 would not undertake her 
 in this company. Is that the meaning of accost? 
 
 Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen 
 
 Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, 'would 
 thou might'st never draw sword again. 
 
 Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would I 
 might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you 
 think you have fools in hand ? 
 
 Mar. Sir, I have not you by the liand. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's 
 my hand. 
 
 Mar. Now, sir, thought is free : I pray you, bring 
 your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink. 
 
 Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your 
 
 Iriar. It's dry, sir. [metaphor? 
 
 Sir And. Why, I think so ; I am not such an as-s 
 but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest .' 
 
 Ma>: A dry jest, sir. 
 
 Sir A7id. Are yon full of them? 
 
 Mar. Ay, sir; 1 have them at my fingers' ends 
 marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. 
 
 [Exit Maria 
 
 Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary 
 when did I see thee .so put down? 
 
 Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you 
 see canary put me down : methinks, sometimes I 
 have no more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary 
 man has : but I am a great eater of beef, and, 1 be- 
 lieve, that iloes harm to my wit. 
 
 Sir To. No question. 
 
 Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll 
 ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. 
 
 Sir To. Ponrqnoy, my dear knight ! 
 
 Sir And. What is poiirquoy f do or not do? I 
 would I had bestowed tliat time in tJie tongues, that 
 I have in fencing, dancing, and beai-baitiQg : O, had 
 I but followed the arts! [of hair. 
 
 Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head 
 
 Sir And.W ity , would that have mended my hair? 
 
 Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest, it will not 
 curl by nature. [not ? 
 
 Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, uoe.s't 
 
 Sir To. Excfllent! it hangs like flax on a distaff: 
 and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her 
 legs, and spin it off. 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby : 
 your niece will not be seen; or, if she be, it's four 
 to one she'll none of me : the count himself, here 
 hard by, wooes her. 
 
 Sir To. She'll none o' the count ; she'll not mate 
 above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit: 
 I have heard lier swear it. Tut, there's life in't, man. 
 
 Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. 1 am a fellow 
 o' the strangest mind i' the world ; I delight in 
 masques and revels sometimes altogether. 
 
 Sir To. Art thou good at these kickshaws, knight? 
 
 Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he 
 be, under the degree of my betters; and yet 1 will 
 not compare with an old man. 
 
 6'?VTo. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? 
 
 Sir And. 'l-'aith, 1 can cut a caper. 
 
 Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't. 
 
 Sir Atid. And, I think, I liave the back- trick, 
 simply as strong as any man in Illyria. 
 
 Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid ? where- 
 fore have these gifts a curtain before them ? are 
 they like to take dust, like mistress Mall's pic- 
 ture ? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard ? 
 and come'home in a coranto? My vei-y walk should 
 be a jig ! I would not so much as make water, but 
 in a sink a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a 
 world to hide virtues in ? I did think, by the excel- 
 lent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the 
 star of a galliard. 
 
 Sin And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does uidifferent 
 well in a llame-coloured stock. Shall we set about 
 some revels? [under Taurus ? 
 
 Sir To. What shall we do else? were we not boro 
 
 Sir And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. 
 
 Sir To. No sir ; it is legs and thighs. Let me 
 seethe-- caper: ha! higher: ha, ha! — excellent! 
 
 [Exeu/it. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 55 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Valentine, anrf Viola in mail's atlire^ 
 
 Val. If the duke continue these f.ivoiirs towai'ils 
 yon, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced : 
 he hath known you but three days, and already you 
 are no stranger. 
 
 Vio. Vou fitlier fear his humour, or njy negli- 
 cence, that you call in question the continuance of 
 iiis love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? 
 
 Val. No, believe me. 
 
 Enter Duke. CuRio, and Attendants. 
 
 Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
 
 Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ? 
 
 Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here. 
 
 Duke. Stand you awliile alouf. — Cesario, 
 Thou know'st no less but ail; I liave unclasp"d 
 To thee the book even of my secret sou! : 
 'i'lierefore, good youth,addressthy j^ait unto her; 
 Be not deny'd access, stand at lier doors, 
 And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow, 
 Till thou have audience. 
 
 Vio. Sure, my noble lord. 
 
 If she be so abandon'd to lieu sorrow 
 As it is spoke, she never will aduiit me. 
 
 Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all ci\il bounds. 
 Rather than make unprofited return. 
 
 Vio- Say, I do speak with her, my lord ; what then? 
 
 Duke. 0, then unfold the passion of my \o\e. 
 Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: 
 It shall become thee well to act my woes ; 
 She will attend it better in thy youth, 
 Than in a nuncio of more grax e aspect 
 
 Vio. I think not so, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Dear lad, believe it; 
 
 For they shall yet belie thy ha py years. 
 That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip 
 Is not more smooth and rubious ; tliy small pipe 
 Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, 
 And all is semblative a woman's part. 
 I know, thy constellation is right apt 
 For this affair : — Some four, or live, attend him; 
 All, if you will; fori myself am best, 
 H lien least in company : — Prosper well in this. 
 And thou slialt live as freely as tiiy lord, 
 'i'o call his fortunes thine. 
 
 Vio. I'll do my best, 
 
 To woo your lady : yet (Aside.) a barful strife ! 
 Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V- —A Room in Olivia's house. 
 Enter Maria and Clotvn. 
 
 Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, 
 or I will not open my li|)s so wide as a bristle may 
 enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee 
 for thy absence. 
 
 Clo. Let her hang me ! he, that is well hanged in 
 this world, needs to fear no colours. 
 
 Mar. Make that good. 
 
 Clo. He shall see none to fear. 
 
 Mar. A good lenten answer. 1 can tell thee where 
 that saying was born, of I fear no colours. 
 
 Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? 
 
 Mar. In the wars ; and that may you be bold to say 
 in your foolery. 
 
 6'/o. Well, Uod give them wisdom, that have it; 
 and those that are fools, let them use their talents. 
 
 Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long 
 absent : or, to be turned away, is not that as good as 
 a hanging to you ? 
 
 Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar- 
 riage ; and for turning away, let summer bear it out. 
 
 Mar. You are resolute then? 
 
 Clo. Not so neither; but • am resolved on two 
 points. 
 
 Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold ; or, if 
 both break, your gaskins fall. 
 
 Clo. Apt. in good faith ; very apt ' Well, go thy 
 
 way ; if s.r'l oby would leave drinking, thou wert as 
 nittv a piece ol Eve's ilesh as auv in Illyria 
 
 Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that; here 
 jouies my lady : make your excuse wisely, you wexe 
 "'''''• ■ I Exit. 
 
 Enter Olivia «7<c/Malvolio. 
 Clo. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into jrood 
 foolmg! lliose wits, that think they have thee do 
 very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack tiiee. 
 may pass for a wise mau : for what says Quinaijalos / 
 
 iJetter a witty fool, than a foolish wit God bles« 
 
 thee, lady I 
 
 Oli. Take the fool away. [lady. 
 
 ( lo. Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away the 
 Oh. Go to, you're a dry fool ; III no more of you : 
 besides, you grow dishonest 
 
 Clo. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good 
 counsel wdl amend ; for give tlie dry fool drink, 
 then is the fool not dry; bid the dishonest man 
 mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer disho- 
 nest ; if he cannot, let the botcher mend liim : any 
 thing, that's mended, is but patched: virtue, that 
 transgresses, is but patched with sin ; and sin, that 
 amends, is but patched with virtue : if that this 
 simple .syllogism will serve, so; if it will not. what 
 remedy ? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, 
 so beauty's a flower:— the lady bade take away the' 
 fool ; therefore, I say again, take her away. 
 Oli. Sir, 1 bade them take away you. 
 
 Clo. INlisprision in the highest degree! Lady, 
 
 Cucullus non facit munacum ; that's as much as 
 to say, I wear not motley in my brain. Good ma- 
 donna, give me leave to prove you a fool. 
 Oli. Can you do it? 
 Clo. Dexterously, good madonna. 
 Oli. Make your proof. 
 
 Clo. I must catechise you for it, madonna; good 
 my mouse of virtue, answer me. 
 
 Oli. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll 'bide 
 your proof 
 
 Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou ? 
 * Oil. Good fool, lor my brother's death. 
 etc. I think, his soul is in hell, madonna. 
 Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 
 Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to iiioiirn for 
 your brother's soul being in heaven. — Tv .e away the 
 fool, gentlemen. 
 
 Oli. What think you of this fool, ^.alvolio? doth 
 he not mend ? 
 
 Mai. Yfs; and shall do, till the pangs of death 
 shake him : infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever 
 make the better fool. 
 
 tVo. God send you, sir. a .speedy infirmity, for the 
 better increasing your folly ! Sir Toby will be sworn 
 that I am no fox ; but he will not pa.ss his word for 
 two-pence that you are no fool. 
 
 Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ? 
 Mai. I marvel your ladyshij) takes delight in such 
 a barren rascal ; I saw him put down the other day 
 with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than a 
 stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; 
 unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, lie is 
 gagged. I protest. I take these wise men, that crow 
 so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' 
 zanies. 
 
 Oli. O, you are sick of selflove, Malvolio, and 
 taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, 
 guiltless, and of free, disposition, is lo take those 
 things for bird bolts, that y«u deem canuon-biillets; 
 there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do 
 nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known discreet 
 man, though he do nothing hut reprove. 
 
 Clo. Now Merciiiy endue thee \vitli leasing, for 
 thou speakest well of fools. 
 
 Re-enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gc». 
 tleman, much desires to speak with you. 
 Oli. From the count Oisiuo, is it? 
 
56 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 ^tcn■. I know not, mndam ; 'tis a fair young nnan, 
 .uid well attended. 
 
 OH. Who of my people hold him in delay? 
 
 Mar. Sir Toby, n>adani, your kinsman. 
 
 Oli. Fetch him otl", I pray yon ; he speaks nothing 
 nt madman: tie on him! [Exit Maria.] Go you, 
 iMalvolio : if it be a snit from the count, 1 am sick, 
 or not at home ; what you wi I, to dismiss it. fExU 
 Malvolio. 1 Now yon see, sir, how your fooling grows 
 old, and people dislike it. 
 
 Clo. Tliou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy 
 eldest son should be a fool ; whose skidl Jove cram 
 with brains, for here he comes, one ot tiiy kin, has 
 a most weak pia mater. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Bp.i.rH. 
 
 Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at 
 the sate, cousin ? 
 
 iS(V To. A fjentleman. 
 
 OH. A gentleman ? What gentleman" 
 
 Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here--A plague o' the.<e 
 pickle-herrinj^s I — How now, sot? 
 
 Clo. Good Sir 'i'oby, 
 
 OH. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early 
 l>v tins lethargy? I the gate. 
 
 Sir To. Lechery ! I defy lechery: there's one at 
 
 Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he ? 
 
 Sir To. Let him be the devil, an he will, I care 
 ik>t ; give me faith, say L Well, its all oiw.iExit. 
 
 OH. What's a drunken man like, fool? 
 
 Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman : 
 one draiiglit above heat makes him a fool ; the second 
 mads iiim ; and a third rrovvns hiui. 
 
 OH. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him sit 
 o' my coz ; fur he's in the third degree of drink, he's 
 drown'd : go, look after hiiri. 
 
 Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool 
 .shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. 
 
 lie-enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he wil' 
 .speak with you. 1 told hiui you were sick : he takes 
 on him to iindersti.nd so much, and therefore comes 
 to sp'^ak with you : I told hiui you were asleep; he 
 stems I ' have a lore-knowledge of that too, and 
 therefore comes to speak with you. Wiiat is to be 
 saiil to him, lady? he's t'ortitied against any denial. 
 
 Oli. 'I'ell iiim, he shall not speak with me. 
 
 Mai. He has been told so ; and he says, he'll stand 
 at your door likft a siieiilf's post, and be the sup- 
 porter of a bench, but he'll speak with you. 
 
 OH. What kind ot man is he ? 
 
 Mai. Why, of man kind. 
 
 Oli. What manner of man? 
 
 Mai. Of very ill manner ; he'd speak with you, 
 will you, or no. 
 
 OH. Of what personage, and years, is he ? 
 
 31al. Not yet old enough for a man. nor young 
 enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peas- 
 cod, or a codling when 'tis almost an apple : 'tis with 
 him e'en standing water, between boy and man. He 
 is very well-favoured, and he speaks very shrewislily; 
 one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out 
 of him. 
 
 Oli. Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. 
 
 Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Mari.\. 
 Oliv. Give me my veil : cojne, throw it o'er my 
 face ; we'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 
 
 E7iter Viola. 
 
 Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is 
 •he'.'_ Cwill? 
 
 Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her ; your 
 Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable 
 ''eauty, — I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady ol 
 the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to 
 cast away my speech ; for, besides that it is excel- 
 lently well penn'd, I liave taken great pains to con 
 
 it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn • I am 
 very comptible, even to the least sinister usag*. 
 
 OH. Whence came you, sir ? 
 
 Vio. I can .say little more than I have studied, 
 and that question's out of my part. Good gentle 
 cue, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady of 
 the house, that I may proceed in my speech. 
 
 Oli. Are you a comedian ? 
 
 Vio. No, my profound heart : and yet. by the very 
 fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play. Are 
 you the lady of the house? 
 
 Oli. If I do not usurp myself, I am. 
 
 Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp 
 yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours to 
 reserve. Hut this is from my commission: 1 willoit 
 with my speech in your praise, and then shew you 
 the heart of my message. 
 
 Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgive you 
 the praise. fpoetical. 
 
 Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis 
 
 Oli. It is the more like to be feigned , I pray you, 
 keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and 
 allowed your approach, rather to wonder at you than 
 to hear you. If yon be not mad, be gon*»; if you 
 liave reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with 
 me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue. 
 
 Mar. Will you hoist sail sir? here lies your way. 
 
 Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a little 
 longer. — Some mollification for your giant, sweet 
 
 OH. Tell me your mind. [lady. 
 
 Vio. I am a messenger. 
 
 OH. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de- 
 liver, when the courtesy of it is so feartul. Speak 
 jour ofiice. 
 
 Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no 
 overture of vvar, no taxation of homage ; 1 hold the 
 olive in my hand ; my words are as full of peace as 
 matter. 
 
 OH. Yet you began rudely. What are you ? what 
 would you ? 
 
 Vio. The rudeness, that hath appeared in me. 
 have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I an>, 
 and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead: to 
 your ears, divinity; to any other's, profanation. 
 
 Oli. Give us the place alone : we will hear this 
 divinity. [Exit Maria. \ Now, sir, what is your text? 
 
 Vio. Most sweet lady, 
 
 Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be 
 said of it. Where lies your text? 
 
 Vio. In Oisino's bosom. 
 
 Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom? 
 
 Vio. To answer by the method, in the tirst of hi.^ 
 heart. [more to say? 
 
 OH. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you no 
 
 Vio. Good madam, let me see your face. 
 
 Oli. Have you any commission from your lord to 
 negociate with my face ? you are now out of your 
 text : but we will draw the curtain, and shew you 
 the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as 1 was 
 this present : is't not well done ? { Unveiling.' 
 
 Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. [weather. 
 
 OH. 'Tis ill grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and 
 
 Vio. "Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white 
 Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on t 
 Lndy, your are the cruel'st she alive. 
 If you lead these graces to the grave. 
 And leave the world no copy. 
 
 Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I wil! 
 give out divers schedules of my beauty : it shall 
 be inventoried ; and every particle, and utensil, 
 labelled to my will : as, item, two lips indilferent 
 red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to tliem; item, 
 one neck, one cliin, and so forth. W^ere you seal 
 hither to 'praise me ? 
 
 Vio. I see you what you are : you are too proud : 
 But, if you were the devil, you are fair. 
 My lord and master loves you; O, such love 
 Could be but recouipens'd, though you were crowa'd 
 Tlie nonpareil of beauty ! 
 
 Oli How does he love me ' 
 
Act II. Scene 2. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 57 
 
 Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears, 
 Witli groans tliat thunder Idve. witli sighs of fire. 
 
 Oil Voiir lord does know my miud, 1 cannot love 
 him : ^ 
 
 Vet I suppose him virtiinus, know him noole, 
 Of great estate, oi fresh and stainless youth ; 
 In voices well divulg'd, free, learn"d,and valiant, 
 And, in dimension, and the sliape ot natvire, 
 A gracious person : but yet I cannot love hira ; 
 He tnigiit have took, his answer long ago. 
 
 Vio. 11 1 (lid love you in my master's flame, 
 With such a siitfering, such a deadly life. 
 In your denial I would find no sense, 
 Iwould not understand it. 
 
 on. Why, what would you ? 
 
 Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
 And call upon my soul within the house ; 
 Write loyal cantons of contemned love; 
 Anil sing theui loud even in the dead of night; 
 Holla your name to the reverberate hills, 
 And make the babbling gossip of the air 
 Cry out, Olivia ! O, you sliould not rest 
 Between tiie elements of air and earth, 
 Uut you ^lould pity me. [ogc ' 
 
 on. Vou miglit do much : what is your parent- 
 
 Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : 
 I am a gentleman. 
 
 0/i. Get you to your lord ; 
 
 I cannot love him : let him send no more ; 
 Cinless, perchance, you come to me again, 
 'I e tell me how he takes if. Fare you well : 
 1 th;uik you for your pains : spend this for me. 
 
 Vio. 1 am no fee'd post, lady ; keep your purse ; 
 My master, not myself, lacks recompense. 
 Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love; 
 And let your fervour, like my master's, be 
 Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit. 
 
 0/i. What is your parentage '! 
 Above HI!/ Jhr tunes, yet my state is well; 
 
 I am a ijeutieiuan. 1 II be sworn tliou art; 
 
 Tny foiigiie, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit. 
 Do give thee five-fold blazon : — Not too fast : — soft ! 
 
 sott I 
 Unless the master were the man. — How now? 
 Even so quickly may one catch the plague? 
 Metiiinks, 1 feel this youth's perfections. 
 With an invisible and subtle stealth, 
 'l"o creep m at mine eyes. Welt, let it be. — 
 What, ho, Malvolio! 
 
 Re-enter Malvolio. 
 
 MaL Here,. mad;im, at your service. 
 
 on. Run after that same peevish messenger, 
 The county's man : he left tiiis ring behind him. 
 Would I, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. 
 Desire him not to flatter with his lord. 
 Nor hold him up witli hopes ; I am not for him: 
 If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, 
 I'll give him reasons I'or't. Hie thee, Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. Madam, I will. ^Exit. 
 
 on. I do I know not what ; and fear to find 
 Mine eye too great a flatterer tor my mind. 
 Fate, siiew thy force : ourselves we do not owe ; 
 What is decreed, must be ; and be this so ! [Exit. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 Scene L — The Sea-coast. 
 Enter Antonio and Sebasti.^n. 
 
 Ant. Will you stay no longer? nor will you not 
 that I go with you ? 
 
 Seh. By your patience, no: my stars shine darkly 
 over me ; the malignancy of my fate might, per- 
 haps, distemper yours ; therefore 1 shall crave of you 
 your leave, that J may bear my evils alone : it were 
 a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them 
 on you. ("bound. 
 
 Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are 
 
 Sfh. No, 'sooth, sir ; my determinate voyage is 
 mere extra^agancy. But 1 perceive in you so ex- 
 
 cellent a touch of modesty, tliat you will not extort 
 from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it 
 charges me in manners the rather to express my- 
 self. You must know of me, then, Antonio, my 
 name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo ; my 
 father was that Sebastian of Mes.saliiie, whom, 1 
 know, you have heard of : he left behind him, my. 
 silf, and a sister, both born in an hour. Jf the heji- 
 vens had been pleased, 'would we had so ended.' 
 but, you, sir, altered that; for, some hour befoie you 
 took me from the breach of the sea, was my sister 
 
 Ant. Alas, the day ! [drown'd. 
 
 Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re- 
 sembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful; 
 but, though 1 could not, with such estimable won- 
 der, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly 
 publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not 
 but call fair : she is drowned already, sir, with salt 
 water, though I seem to drown her remembrance 
 again with more. 
 
 Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. 
 
 Seb. O, goof'i .■\ntonio, forgive me your trouble. 
 
 Ant. If yo'j will not murder me for my love, let 
 rae be your ;,ervant. 
 
 Seb. If you will not undo what you have done, 
 that is, kiU him whom you have recovered, desire it 
 not. Faie ye well at once : my bosom is full of 
 kindness ; and I am yet so near the nianners of my 
 mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine 
 eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the cnuiit 
 Orsiiio's court : farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with tliee 1 
 I have many enemies in Orsino's court, 
 Else would I very shortly see thee there : 
 But, come what may, I do adore thee so. 
 That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit, 
 
 Scene II. — A Street. 
 
 Enter Viola ; Malvolio following. 
 
 Mai. Were not you even now with the countess 
 Olivia ? 
 
 Vio. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I h^.ve 
 since arrived but hither. 
 
 Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir ; yoa might 
 have saved me my pains, to have taker it away 
 yourself She adds moreover, that you nould put 
 your lord into a desperate assurance f ne will none 
 of him : and one thing more; that y:>ii be never* so 
 hardy to come again in his affairs, inless it be to 
 rejwrt your lord's taking of this. P jceive it so. 
 
 Vio. She took the ring of me : I'll none of it. 
 
 Mai. Come, sir, you peevis' ly threw it to her; ' 
 and her will is, it should be so returned : if it be 
 worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye ; if not, 
 be it his that finds it. [Exit 
 
 Vio. I left no ring with her : what means this 
 lady ? 
 Fortune fubid, my outside have not charm'd her .' 
 She made good view of me ; indeed, so much, 
 That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her tongus. 
 For she did speak iti starts distractedly. 
 She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion 
 Invites me in this churlish messenger 
 None of my lord's ring ! why, he sent her none. 
 I am the man ; — if it be so (as 'tis). 
 Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
 Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness. 
 Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. 
 How easy is it for the proper-false 
 In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! 
 Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ; 
 For, such as we are made of, such we be. 
 How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly; 
 And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ; 
 And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : 
 What will become of this ? As I am man. 
 My state is desperate for my master's lo'-ei 
 As I am vv<mian, now alas the djiy ! 
 VV^hat thriftless sighs shall poorOlivia breathe f 
 
5S 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 O time, thon must untangle this, not I; 
 (t is too haid a knot i'or tne to untie. 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in Olivia's house. 
 Enter Sir ToBY Belch and Sir Andrew Ague- 
 cheek. 
 
 Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-berl 
 nf'tcr midnii;ht, is to be up betimes; and diluculo 
 siirijc.re, thou know'st, — 
 
 Sir And. Nay, by my trotli, I know not': but I 
 know, to be u|) late, is to be up hite. 
 
 Sir To- A false conclusion ; I hate it as an un- 
 filled can : to be up after midnight, and to go to bed 
 llirn, is early : .so that, to go to bed after niiduight, 
 is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives consist of 
 the four elements? 
 
 Sir And. 'Faith, so they say ; but, I think, it rather 
 consists of enting and drinking. 
 
 Sir To. Thou ait a scholar; let us therefore eat 
 and drink. — Marian, I say ! a stoop of wine ! 
 
 Enter Cloivn. 
 
 Sir And. Here comes the fool, i'faith. 
 
 Clo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never see 
 the pictin-e of we three ? 
 
 Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. 
 
 Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent 
 breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such 
 a leg; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. 
 In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last 
 niuht, when thou spokest of Pigrogroniitus, of the 
 Vapians passing the equinoctial of Qiienbus ; 'twas 
 very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy 
 leman ; hadst it ? 
 
 Clo. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's 
 no-<e is no whi: stock : my lady has a white liand, 
 and the myrmidons are no botlleale houses. 
 
 Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best fool- 
 ing. wh(-n all is done. Now. a song. 
 
 Sir To. Conie on ; there is sixpence for you : let's 
 have a sona'. 
 
 Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one knight 
 give a [good life? 
 
 C/o. Would you have a love-song, or a song of 
 
 6V'- To. A love-song, a love-song. 
 
 Sir And. Ay, ay ; I care not for good life. 
 
 SONG. 
 Clo. n:istress mine, where are you roatning? 
 0, stcrv, and hear ; your true love's cominc/. 
 
 That can sing both high and low : 
 Trip no further, pretty siveeting ; 
 Journeys ^"^d in lovers' tfieeting. 
 Every ivi. e man's son doth know. 
 
 Sir And. Excellen\good, i'faith I 
 
 Sir To. Good, good.^ 
 
 Clo. What is love ! 'tis not hereafter; 
 
 Present mirth hath present laughter ; 
 
 fVhat's to come, is still unsure : 
 In delay there lies no plenty ; 
 Then come kiss me, stveet-and-ttvetity, 
 \outh's a stuff will not endure. 
 
 Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am a true knight. 
 
 Sir To. A contagious breath. 
 
 SirAvd. V*ry sweet and contagious, i'faith. 
 
 Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in 
 contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance 
 indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, 
 that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall 
 we do that ? [a catch. 
 
 Sir And. An you love me, let's do't : I am a dog at 
 
 Clo. Hy'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. 
 
 Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou 
 knave. 
 
 Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? I .shall 
 be con.strain'd in't to call thee knave, knight. 
 
 Sir And. Tis not the first time I have con.strain'd 
 one to call nie knave. Begin, fool ; it begins, Hold 
 thy peace. 
 
 Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace. 
 
 Sir And. Good, iTaith . Come, begin. [They smy 
 a catch.) 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here. 
 If my lady have not called up her steward, Mai- 
 volio, and bid him turn you out of doors, never 
 trust me. 
 
 Sir To. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians ; 
 Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsay, and Three merry men 
 he tve. Am not I consanguineous'-' am I not of her 
 blood? Tilly vally, lady ! There dwelt a man iii 
 Babylon, lady, lady I [Singing.) [fooling. 
 
 Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable 
 
 Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis- 
 posed, and so do 1 too; he does it with a better 
 grace, but I do it more n.ntural. 
 
 Sir To. 0, the twelfth day of December, — 
 
 [Singing.) 
 
 Mar. For the love o' God, peace. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. My masters, are you mad ? or what are you? 
 Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble 
 like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an 
 alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out 
 your coziers' catches without any mitigation or 
 remorse of voice ? Is there no respect of place, 
 persons, nor time, in you? [Sneck up ! 
 
 Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. 
 
 Mai. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My 
 lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you 
 as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. 
 If yon can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, 
 you are welcome to the house ; if not, an it would 
 please yon to take leave of her, she is very willing 
 to bid you farewell. \needs be gone. 
 
 Sir To. Fareivell, dear heart, since I must 
 
 Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. 
 
 Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done, 
 
 Mai. Is't even so ? 
 
 Sir To. But I tvill never die 
 
 Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie. 
 
 Mai. This is much credit to you. 
 
 Sir To. Shall I bid him go ? [Singing.) 
 
 Clo. TT'hatanifyoudo'f 
 
 Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not? 
 
 Clo. 710. no, no, no, you dare not. 
 
 Sir To. Out o' time? sir, ye lie. — Art any more 
 than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art 
 virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ? 
 
 Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall be hot 
 i' the mouth too. 
 
 Sir To. Tiiou'rt i'the right. — Go, sir, rub your 
 chain with crams: — A stoop of wine, Maria.' 
 
 Mai. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's fa- 
 vour at any thing more than contempt, you would 
 not give means for this uncivil rule ; she shall know 
 of it. by this hand. [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Go shake your ears. 
 
 Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to diink when, 
 a man's a-hungry, to challenge him to the field ; and 
 then to break promise with him, and make a fool 
 of him. 
 
 Sir To. Do't, knight ; I'll write thee a challenge ; 
 or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word oi 
 month. 
 
 Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to night ; 
 since the youth of the count's was to-day with my 
 lady, she is nmch out of quiet. For monsieur Mal- 
 volio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him 
 into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, 
 do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my 
 bed : I know, I can do't. 
 
 Sir To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us soraetliing 
 of him. 
 
 Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu- 
 nt-.tn. fdog. 
 
 Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a 
 
 X 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 59 
 
 Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exqui- 
 site reason, clear knight? 
 
 Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I 
 have reason good enough. 
 
 ]\lar. Tiie devil a Puritan that he is, or any 
 tiling constantly but a time pleaser; an affectioned 
 ass, that cons state without book, and utters it by 
 great swarths : the best persuaded of hitnself, so 
 rraiiimed, as he thinks, with excellencies, tiiat it is 
 his ground of faith, that all, that look on liiui, lo\e 
 him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find 
 notable cause to work. 
 
 Sir To. What wilt thou do? 
 
 Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles 
 of love: wherein, by the colour of his beard, the 
 shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres- 
 sureofhis eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall 
 find himself most feelingly personated : I can write 
 very like my lady, your niece ; on a forgotten matter 
 we can hardly make distinction of our hands. 
 . Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device. 
 
 Sir Ami. I have't in mv nose too. 
 
 Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou 
 wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that 
 she is in love with him. [colour. 
 
 Mar. JVIy purpose is, indeed, a horse of that 
 
 Sir And. And your horse now could make him 
 
 Mar. Ass, I doubt not. [an ass. 
 
 Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. 
 
 3[ar. Sport royal, I warrant yon : I know, my 
 physic will work with him. 1 will plant you two, 
 and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the 
 letter; observe his construction of it. For this night, 
 to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. tJood night, Penthesilea. 
 
 Sir And- Before nie, she's a good wench. 
 
 Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that 
 adores me ; what o'that':" 
 
 Sir And. I was adored once too. 
 
 Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. — Thou hadst need 
 send for more money. 
 
 Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a 
 foni vv;iv out. ; 
 
 Sir To. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her 
 not in the end. call me Cut. [}'*"' will. 
 
 Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take it how 
 
 Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack, 
 'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight ; come, 
 knight. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in the Dukes Palace. 
 Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others. 
 
 Duke. Give me some music: — Now, good mor- 
 row, friends : 
 
 Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 
 That old and antique song we heard last night ; 
 Melhought it did relieve my passion mnch ; 
 More than light airs and recollected terms. 
 
 Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times ; 
 
 Come, but one verse. [should sing it. 
 
 Ciir. tie is not here, so please your lordship, that 
 
 Duke. Who was it ? 
 
 Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord ; a fool that the 
 lady Olivia's father took much delight in: he is 
 about the house. 
 
 Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. 
 
 [Exit Curio. — Music. 
 Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love. 
 In the sweet pangs of it remember me : 
 For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
 Save, in the constant image of the creature 
 That is belov'd. — How dost thou like this tune? 
 
 Yio. It gives a very echo to the seat 
 Where love is thron'd 
 
 Duke. Thou dost speak masterly : 
 My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye 
 Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ; 
 Hath it not, boy? 
 
 yio. A little, by v'ui" favour. 
 
 Duke. What Kind of woman is't? 
 
 Vio. Of your coniplexipo 
 
 Duke. She is not worth thee then. What years, 
 
 Vio. About your years, my lord. fiTaith ? 
 
 Duke. Too old, by heaven : let still the woman 
 An elder than herself; so wears she to him, [take 
 So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
 For, boy, however we do praise ourselves. 
 Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm. 
 More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
 Tiian women's are. 
 
 Vio. I think it well, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself. 
 Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: 
 For women are as roses ; whose fair flower. 
 Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. 
 
 Vio. And so they are : alas, that they ai-e so; 
 To die, even when they to perfection grow! 
 
 Re-enter CuRio, and Clmvn. 
 
 Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last 
 Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain: [night: — 
 Tlie spinsters and the knitters in the sun. 
 And the free maids, that weave their thread with 
 Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth, [bones. 
 
 And dallies with the innocence of love. 
 Like the old age. 
 
 Clo. Are you ready, sir? 
 
 Duke. Ay ; pr'ythee, sing. {Music.} 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. Come away, come away, death. 
 And in sad cypress let me be laid; 
 
 Fly away, fiy aioay, breath ; 
 I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
 My shroud ofivhite, stuck all with yew, 
 
 0, prepare it ; 
 My part of death no one so true 
 Did share it. 
 Not a flower, not aflotoer sweet. 
 On my black coffin let there be strown ; 
 
 Not a friend, not a friend areet [throicn; 
 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be 
 A thousand thousand sighs to save. 
 
 Lay me, 0, where 
 Sad (rue lover ne'er find my grave. 
 To iveep there. 
 Duke. There's for thy pains. 
 Clo. No pains, sir; I take pleasure insinginjr, sir. 
 Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 
 Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one 
 time or another. 
 
 Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 
 Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee ; and 
 the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taifata, 
 for thy mind is a very opa! ! — I would have men of 
 such constancy put to sea, that their business might 
 be every thing, and their intent every where ; for 
 that's it, that always makes a good voyage of no- 
 thing. — Farewell. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Duke. Let all the rest give place. 
 
 [Exeunt Curio and Attendants. 
 Once more^ Cesario, 
 Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty : 
 Tell her, my love, more noble than the world. 
 Prizes not quantity of dirty lands: 
 The parts, that fortune hath bestow'd upon her. 
 Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; 
 But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems. 
 That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. 
 Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir? 
 Duke. 1 cannot be so answer'd. 
 Vio. 'Sooth, but yon must 
 
 Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is. 
 Hath for your love as great a pang of heart 
 As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; 
 Vou tell her so : must she not then be answer'd? 
 
 Duke. There is no woman's sides. 
 Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
 As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart 
 
GO 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act TT. 
 
 feo bis, to hold so much ; they lack retention. 
 Alas, their love may be called a|)petite, — 
 No motion of the liver, but the palate, — 
 'J'hat sutler snri'eit, cloyment, and revolt ; 
 But mine is all as hungry as the sea, 
 And can digest as much : make no compare 
 Between that love a woman can bear nie, 
 And that I owe Olivia. 
 
 Viu. Ay, but I know, — 
 
 Duke. What dost thou know ? 
 
 Vio. Too well what love women to meu may owe : 
 In taith, they are as true ol heart as we. 
 My fatliei- had a daughter loved a man, 
 As it miglit be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
 J should your lordship. 
 
 JJid-e. And what's her history? 
 
 Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love, 
 But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
 Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ; 
 And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
 .She sat like patience on a monument, 
 Suiiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? 
 We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed, 
 Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove 
 Much in our vows, but little in our lo\e. 
 
 Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? 
 
 Vio. I am all tiie daughters of my father's house. 
 And all the brothers t(io ; — and yet I know not. — 
 Sir, shall 1 to this lady? 
 
 Duke. Ay, that's the theme. 
 
 To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say, 
 My love can give no place, bide no delay. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Olivias Garden. 
 
 E«/«r Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague cheek, 
 
 and Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. 
 
 Faff. Nay, 1 11 come ; if I lose a scruple of this 
 sport, li-t me be boiled to death with melancholy. 
 
 Sir To. Woidd'st tliou not be glad to have the 
 niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable 
 shame ? 
 
 Fa/). I would exult, man : you know, he brought 
 me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baitnig 
 here. 
 
 Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again ; 
 and we will fool him black and blue: — Shall we 
 not. .Sir Andrew ? 
 
 Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 
 
 Enler Maria. 
 
 Sir To. Here comes the little vilJain : — How 
 now. my nettle of India? 
 
 Mar. tJet ye all three into the box-tree: Mal- 
 ^(ilids coming down this walk ; he has been yonder 
 i' the Sim, practising behaviour to his own sliadow, 
 this hall" hour : oliserve iiim, fur the love of mockery ; 
 (or, I know, this letter will make a contemplative 
 idiot (if him. Close, in the name of jesting ' {The 
 mi'ii hide ihemxelves.) Lie thou there ; {throws 
 down a letter] ibr here comes the trout that must 
 Ije caught with tickling. [Exit Maria. 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 Mai. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria 
 once told me, she did atlect me : and I have heard 
 herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it 
 should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses 
 me wiih a more exalted respect, than any one else 
 that follows her. What should I think on't? 
 
 Sir To. Here's an over-weening rogue.' 
 
 Fah. O, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare 
 turkey-cock of him ; how he jets under his advanced 
 plumes ! 
 
 Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue ! — 
 
 Sir To. Peace, I say. 
 
 Mai. To be Count Malvolio!— 
 
 Sir To. Ah, rogue ! 
 
 Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. 
 
 Sir To. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Mai. There is example for't; the lady of the 
 strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 
 Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel I 
 Fab. O, peace! now he's deeply in; look, how 
 imagination blows him. 
 
 Mai. Having been three months married to her, 
 sitting in my state, — 
 
 Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye ! 
 Mai. Calling my officers about me, in my branched 
 velvet gnwn; having come from a day-bed, where 
 I left Olivia sleeping. 
 
 Sir To. Fire and brimstone ! 
 Fab. O, peace, peace I 
 
 Mai. And then to have the humour of state : and 
 after a demure travel of regard, — telling them, I know 
 my place, as 1 would they should do theirs, — to ask 
 for my kinsman Toby : 
 
 Sir To. Bolts and shackles! 
 Fab. O, peace, peace, peace ! now, now. 
 Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, 
 make out for him : I frown the while ; and per- 
 chance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich 
 jewel. Toby approaches; court'sies there to me: 
 Sir To. Shall this fellow live ? 
 Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with 
 cars, yet peace. 
 
 Mai. I extend my hand to him, thus, quenching 
 my lamiliar smile with an austere regard ot control : 
 6'/> To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the 
 lips then ? 
 
 Mai. Saying, Cousin Toby , nitj fortunes havinij 
 cast vie on your niece, <jive me this prerorjative oj 
 speech : — 
 
 Sir To. What, what? 
 Mai. Yon must amend your drunkenness. 
 Sir To. Out, scab ! 
 
 Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of 
 our plot. 
 
 Mai Besides, you tvaste the treasure of your 
 time with a foolish kniyht ; 
 
 Sir And. I'liat's me, 1 warrant you. 
 Mai. One Sir Andrew: [fool. 
 
 Sir And. I knew, 'twas I ; for many do call me 
 Mai. VVhat employment have we here ? {Tak- 
 ing vp the letter.) 
 
 Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
 Sir To. O, peace ! and the spirit of humours in- 
 timate reading aloud to him ! 
 
 Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand : these 
 be her very C's, her U's, and her 7"s; and thus 
 makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of 
 question, her hand. 
 
 Sir And. Her C'a, her U's and her Ts : why 
 that? 
 
 Mai. {reads.) To the unknown beloved, this, and 
 my good wishes: her very phrases! — By your 
 leave, wax.— Soft! — and the impressiire her Lu- 
 nece, vvitli vvhicii she uses to seal : 'tis my lady : 
 to whom should this be ? 
 
 Fab. This wins him, liver and all. 
 Mai. {reads.) Jove knows I love : 
 But tohof 
 Lips do not move. 
 No man must knoiv. 
 No tnan must know. — What follows? the numbers 
 altered ! — No man must know: — If this should be 
 thee, Malvolio? 
 
 Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock ! 
 Mai. I may command, where I adore: 
 But siletice, like a Lucrece knife, 
 TJ ith bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; 
 M, O, A, i, doth sway my life. 
 Fab. A Fustian riddle I 
 Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 
 Mai. M, O, A, I, doth sway myJtfe.—Nay, but 
 first, let me see,— let me see,— let e see. 
 
 Fab. What a dish of poison hath she dress'd him ! 
 Sir To. A.iid witli what wing the stannyel checks 
 at it. 
 
 Mai. I may command where I adore. Why, she 
 
Act ITI. Scene L 
 
 OR, AYHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Gl 
 
 may command me; I serve lier, she is my lady. 
 VV^hy, this is evident to any formal capacity. There 
 '\s no obstruction in this: — And the end,— \yhat 
 sliotild that alphabetical position portend ? if I 
 could make that resemble something iu me, — 
 Softly '.—M, O, A, I.— 
 
 Sir T. O, ay ! make up that : — he is now at a 
 cold scent. 
 
 Fab. Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, though 
 it he as laak as a fox. 
 
 Mff/. Jt/,— Malvolio; — M, — why, that begins my 
 name. 
 
 Fab. Did not I say, he would word it out ? the 
 cur is excellent at faults. 
 
 Mai. M, — But then there is no consonancy in the 
 sequel ; that sutlers under probation : A should 
 follow, but O does. 
 
 Fab. And shall end, I hope. 
 
 Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him 
 cry, 0. 
 
 Mai. And then / comes behind. 
 
 Fab. Ay, an you had an eye behind you, yon 
 might see more detraction at your heels, than for- 
 tniies before yon. 
 
 Mai. M, O, A, I; — This simulat'on is not as the 
 former: — and yet, to crush this a little, it would 
 bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my 
 name. Soft! here follows prose. — If this fall into 
 thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee ; 
 but be not afraid of greatness : some are born 
 yreat, some achieve yreatness, and some have 
 'jreatness thrust upon them. Thy fates open their 
 u!>ids ; let thy blood anil spirit embrace them. 
 And, to inure thyself to ivhat thou art like to be, 
 cast thy humble sloiujh, and appear fresh. Be 
 opposite ivith a kinsman, surly wit/i sei'vnnts : 
 let thy tonyue tany aryiunents of state ; put thy- 
 s:'lf into the trick of sinyularity : she thus advises 
 thee, that sighs for thee. Remember ivho com- 
 mended thy yellow stockings ; and wished to see 
 thee ever cross-gartered : I say, remember. Go 
 to; thou art ?nfide, if thou desirest to be so; if 
 not, let me see thee a steiuard still, the fellow of 
 servants, and not worthy to touch fortune's 
 lingers. Farewell. She, that would alter services 
 with thee. 
 
 The fortunate-unhappy. 
 
 Day-light and champian discovers not more : this 
 is open. I will be proud, I will read politic au- 
 thors, I will baflle Sir Toby, 1 will wash olf gross 
 acquaintance, I will be point.de->ice, the \ery man. 
 i do not now fool nij>self, to let imagination jade 
 me ; for every reason excites to this, that my lady 
 loves me. Slie did coumiend my yellow stockings 
 of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered ; 
 and in this she manifests hersell to my love, and, 
 with a kind of injunction, drives me to these habits 
 of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy. I 
 will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and 
 cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting 
 on. Jove, and my stars be praised I — Here is yet 
 a postscript. Thou canst not choose but know who 
 I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear 
 in thy smiling ; thy smiles beco7ne thee well : 
 therefore in my presetice still smile, dear my 
 sweet, I pr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee. — I will 
 smile ; I will do every thing that thou wilt have me. 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 Fab. I will not give my part of this sport lor a 
 pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. 
 
 Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device : 
 
 Sir And. So could I too. 
 
 Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but 
 siicli another jest 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 fiir And. Nor 1 neither. 
 Fab. Kc-re comes my noble gnll-catcher. 
 Sir To. \V ilt thou set thy foot o' ray neck ? 
 S,r And. Or o' mine either i' 
 
 Sir To. Shall 1 play my freedom at tray -trip and 
 become thy bond sla>ei' 
 
 Sir And. I'laith, or I either? 
 
 Sir To. W^iiy, tuou hast put him in such a dreaii 
 that when the image of it leaves him, he must run 
 mad. 
 
 Mar. Nay, but say true; does it work npon him? 
 
 Sir To. ^jike aqua-vitas with a midwife. 
 
 Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, 
 mark his Hrst approach before my lady : he will 
 come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour 
 she abhors ; and cross-gartered, a fashion she de- 
 tests; anil he will smile npon her, which will now 
 be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted 
 to a melancholy as she is, that it caunot but Iuid 
 him into a notable contempt : if you will see it, 
 follow me. 
 
 Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel- 
 lent devil of wit! 
 
 Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT. III. 
 
 Scene I. — Olivia's Garden. 
 
 Enter Viola, and Clown tvith a tabor. 
 
 Vio. Save thee, fiiend, and thy music : dost thou 
 live by thy tabor? 
 
 Clo. No, sir, I live by the church. 
 
 Vio. Art thou a churchman? 
 
 Clo. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the cliurch : 
 for I do live at n)y house, and my house doth st:ind 
 by the church. 
 
 Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies by a beg- 
 gar, if a beggar dwell near him ; or, the church 
 stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the 
 church. 
 
 Clo. You have said, sir. — To see this age ! — A 
 sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; how 
 quickly the wrong side may be turned outwaril I 
 
 Vio. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely 
 with words, may quickly make them wanton. 
 
 Clo. 1 would, therelbre, my sister had had no 
 
 Vio. Why, man? [name, sir. 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word ; and to dally 
 with that word, might make my sister wanton : hut, 
 indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds dis- 
 graced them. 
 
 Vio. Thy reason, man? 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without 
 words; and words are grown so false, 1 am loath to 
 prove reason with them. 
 
 Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry fellow, and 
 carest for nothing. 
 
 Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something : but in 
 my conscience, sir, I do not care for you ; if that be 
 to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you 
 invisible. 
 
 Vio. Art thou not the lady Olivia's fool ? 
 
 Clo. No, indeed, sir ; the lady Olivia has no folly : 
 she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and 
 fools are as like husbands, as iiilchards ai(- to her- 
 rings, the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not 
 her fool, but her corrupter of wortls. 
 
 Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's. 
 
 Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like 
 the sun ; it shines every where. 1 would be sorry, 
 sir, but the fo(.l should be as oft with your inastir, 
 as with my mistress: I tnink f saw your wisdom 
 there. 
 
 Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more 
 with thee. Hold, there's eipeuces lor thee. 
 
 Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, 
 send thee a beard ! 
 
 Vio. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick 
 for one; tliough 1 would not have it grow on my 
 chin. Is thy lady within? 
 
 Clo. Would not a pair of these ha\e bred, sir? 
 
 Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. 
 
 Clo. I would play Icird Faiidariis ol Phrygia. sir, 
 to bring a Cie.ssida to this Tro.lus. 
 
C2 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 Vio. I understand you, sir ; 'tis well begg'd. 
 
 do. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, beg- 
 ging but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. My 
 lady is within, sir. 1 will construe to them whence 
 you come ; who yon are, and wluit you would, are 
 out of my welkin : I might say, element; but the 
 word is over-worn. {Exit. 
 
 Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ; 
 And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit : 
 He must observe tiieir mood on whom he jests. 
 The quality of persons, and the time ; 
 And, like the haggard, check at every feather 
 That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 
 As full of labour as a wise man's art : 
 For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ; 
 But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Ague- 
 
 ClIEEK. 
 
 Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
 
 Vio. And you, sir. 
 
 Sir And. JDieu vous garde, monsieur, 
 
 Vio. El vous aussi ; votre serviteur. 
 
 Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours. 
 
 Sir To. Will you encoimter the house ? my niece 
 is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. 
 
 Vio. I aui bound to your niece, sir: I mean, she 
 is the list of my voyage. 
 
 Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion. 
 
 Via. My legs do better understand me, sir, than 
 I understand what you mean by bidding me taste 
 
 Sir To. I mean to go, sir, to enter. [my legs. 
 
 Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance : 
 but we are prevented. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain 
 odours on you I [odours! vitW. 
 
 Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier : Rain 
 
 Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, butlo your 
 own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. 
 
 Sir And. Odours, preynurd, and vouchsafed : — 
 I'll get 'em all three ready. [to my hearing. 
 
 Oli. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria. 
 Give me your hand, sir. 
 
 Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service. 
 
 Oli. VV hat is your name ? 
 
 Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. 
 
 Oli. My ser\ant, sir ! 'Twas ne\fcr merry world. 
 Since lowly feigning was call'fl compliment: 
 You are servant to the count Orsino, youth. 
 
 Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be 
 yours ; 
 Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
 
 OH. For him, 1 think not on him: for his 
 
 thoughts, [nie ! 
 
 Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with 
 
 Vio. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts 
 On his behalf:— 
 
 OH. O, by your leave, I pray you ; 
 
 I bade you never speak again of him : 
 But, would you undertake another suit, 
 1 hrtd nither hear you to solicit that, 
 Tlian music from the spheres. 
 
 Vio. Dear lady, 
 
 Oh. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did' send, 
 Atter the last enchantment you did here, 
 A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
 Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you : 
 Under your hard construction must 1 sit. 
 To force that on you, in a shamefid cunning. 
 Which you knew none of yoars : what might you 
 Have you not set mine honour at the stake, [think '? 
 And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts. 
 That tyrannous lieart can think ? To one of your 
 
 receiving 
 Rnougl) is shown ; a Cyprus, not a bosom, 
 Hides my poor fieart: so let me hear you speak. 
 
 Vio. I pity you. 
 Oli. That's a degree to love. 
 Vio. No, not a grise ; for 'tis a vulgar proof. 
 That very oft wc pity enemies. 
 
 Oli. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to sniil 
 
 world, how apt the poor are to be proud I [again 
 Jf one should be a prey, how much the better 
 
 To fall before the lion than the wolf? {Clock strikes. 
 The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. — 
 Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you : 
 And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest. 
 Your wife is like to reap a proper man : 
 There lies your way, due west. 
 
 Vio. Then westward-h 
 
 Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship .' 
 You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ? 
 
 Oli. Stay : 
 
 1 pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me. 
 
 Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are. 
 
 Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. 
 
 Vio. Then think you right ; I am not what I am. 
 
 Oli. I would you were as I would ha\e you be ! 
 
 Vio. Would it be better, madam, than 1 am, 
 I wish it might ; for now I am your fool. 
 
 Oli. O, what a deal oi scorn looks beautiful 
 In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
 A murd'rous guilt shews not itself more soon 
 Than love that would seem hid : love's night is noon. 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
 By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
 I love thee so, that, niaugre all thy pride. 
 Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
 Do not extort thy reasons from this clause. 
 For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause : 
 But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter : 
 Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better. 
 
 Vio. By innocence 1 swear, and by my youth, 
 I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth. 
 And that no woman has ; nor never none 
 Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
 And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
 Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 
 
 Oli. Yet come again: for thou, perh.ijs, luhn's/ 
 mo\e 
 That heart, which now abhors, to like his lii\<'. 
 
 [Exa'fl 
 
 Scene 11. — A Room in Olivia's house. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Ague 
 cheek, and Fabian. 
 
 Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. 
 
 Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy rea.'-'on. 
 
 Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir An- 
 drew. 
 
 Sir And. Marry, I saw your, niece do more favonra 
 to the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed 
 upon me ; I saw't i'the orchard. [me that. 
 
 Sir To. Did slie see thee the while, old boy ? tell 
 
 Sir And. As plain as I see you now. 
 
 Fah. This was a great argument of love in her 
 toward you. 
 
 Sir And. 'Slight ! will you make an ass o' me ? 
 
 Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oathsi 
 of judgn\ent and reason. 
 
 Sir To. And they have been grand jurymen, since 
 before Noah was a sailor. 
 
 Fab. She did shew favour to the youth in your 
 sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dur- 
 mouse valour, to j)ut fire in your heait, and brim- 
 stone in your liver : you shotdd then have accosted 
 her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from 
 the mint, you should have banged the youth into 
 dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and 
 this was baulked: the double gilt of this opportu- 
 nity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed 
 into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will 
 hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless 
 you do redeem it by some laudable attempt, either 
 of valour, or policy. 
 
 Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with va- 
 
Scene 
 
 (^R, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 63 
 
 lour ; for policy I hate : I had as lief be a Brownist 
 as a |)oliftcian. 
 
 Sir To. Why then, hnild me thy fortunes upon 
 the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth 
 to fight with liim ; hurt him in eleven places ; my 
 niece shall takenoteof it ; and assure thyself, there is 
 no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's 
 commendatiou with woman, than report of valour. 
 Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. 
 Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge 
 to him ? 
 
 Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand ; be cnrst 
 and brief; it is no matter how wdtty, so it be elo- 
 quent and full of invention : taunt him with the 
 licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it 
 shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in 
 thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big 
 enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em 
 down ; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in 
 thy ink ; though thou write with a goose-pen, no 
 matter : about it. 
 Sir And. Where sliall I find yon ? 
 Sir To. We'll call thee at the citbiculo : go. 
 
 [Exit Sir Andrew. 
 Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. 
 Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad ; some two 
 thousand strong, or so. 
 
 Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him : but 
 you'll not deliver it. 
 
 Sir To. Never trust me then ; and by all means 
 stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and 
 wainropes cannot hale them (oi^ether. For Andrew, 
 if he were opened, and you find so much blood in 
 his liver as will clog the foot of a tlea, I'll eat the 
 rest of the anatomy. 
 
 Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his 
 visage no great presage of cruelty. 
 Enter Maria. 
 Sir To. Look where the youngest wren of nine 
 comes. 
 
 Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 
 yourselves into stitches, follow me : yon' gull Mal- 
 volio is turned heathen, a very renegado ; for there 
 is no Christian that means to be saved by believing 
 rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages 
 of crossness. He's in yellow stockings. 
 Sir To. .\nd cross-gartered ? 
 Mar. Most villanously ; like a pedant that keeps 
 a school i' the church. — I have dogged him, like bis 
 murderer: he does obey every point of the letter 
 that I dropped to betray him. He does smile his 
 •"ace into more lines, than are in the new map, with 
 the augmentation of the Indies : you have not seen 
 such a thing as 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling 
 things at him. I know, my lady will strike him ; if 
 she do, he'll smile, and take't for a great favour. 
 Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 Scene III. — A Street. 
 Enter Antonio and Sebastian. 
 Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you; 
 But, since y<tu make your pleasure of your pains, 
 1 will no further cliide you. 
 
 Ant. I cuuld nut stay behind you ; my desire. 
 More sharp than filed steel, did spur nie forth; 
 And not all love to see you, (though so much, 
 As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, ) 
 Hut jealousy what might befal your travel. 
 Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, 
 Unguided, and unfriended, often prove 
 Kough and unhospitahle . my willing love. 
 The rather by these arguments of fear, 
 Sei foi th in your pursuit. 
 
 Seb. My kind Antonio, 
 
 I can no other answer make, but, thanks, 
 And thanks, and ever thanks. Often good turns 
 Are shuflled otV with such nncunent pay : 
 But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm. 
 You should find better dealing. What's to do ? 
 
 Shall we to see the reliques of this town ? 
 
 Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first go see youi 
 lodging. 
 
 Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night ; 
 I pray you let us satisfy our eyes 
 With the memorials, and the things of fame. 
 That do renown this city. 
 
 Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon nie, 
 
 I do not without danger walk these streets : 
 Once, in a sea-fight,'gainst the count his gallies 
 I did some service ; of such note, indeed. 
 That, were I ta'eu here, it would scarce be answer'd 
 
 Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people. 
 
 And. The offence is tpA of such a bloody nature ; 
 Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel. 
 Might well nave given us bloody argument. 
 It might have since been answer'd m repaying 
 What we took from them ; which, for traffic's sake, 
 Most of oiir city did : only myself stood out; 
 For which, if 1 be lapsed in this place, 
 I shall pay dear. 
 
 Seb. Do not then walk too open. 
 
 And. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my 
 In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, [purse ; 
 
 Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet, 
 W^hiles you beguile the time, and feed your know- 
 
 With viewing of the town ; there shall yon have me. 
 
 Seb. Why I your purse ? 
 
 Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy 
 You have desire to purchase ; and your store, 
 I think, is not for idle markets, sir. [an hour. 
 
 Seb. I'll be vour purse-bearer, and lea\e you foi 
 
 Aitt. To the 'Elephant.— 
 
 Seb. I do remember. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Olivia's Garden. 
 Enter Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Oli, I have sent alter him : he says, he'll come ; 
 How shall I iieast him ? what bestow on him ? 
 For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or bor- 
 
 I speak too loud. [row'd. 
 
 Where is Malvolio? — he is sad and civil, 
 
 And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ; — 
 
 Where is Malvolio? 
 
 Mar. He's coming, madam ; 
 
 But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. 
 
 Oli. Why, what's the matter? does he rave ? 
 
 Mar. No, madam, 
 
 He does nothing but smile : your ladyship 
 Were best have guard about you, if he come 
 For. sure, the man is tainted in his wits. 
 
 Oli. Go call him hither. — I'm as mad as he. 
 If sad and merry madness equal be. — 
 
 Enter Malvolio. 
 How now, Malvolio ? 
 
 Mat. Sweet lady, ho, ho. {Smiles fantastically. ) 
 
 Oli. Smil'st thou ? 
 I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. 
 
 Mai. Sad, lady? I could be sad : this does make 
 some obstruction in the blood, this cross gartering • 
 but what of that, if it please the eye of one, it is 
 with me as the very true sonnet is : Please one, an J 
 please all. 
 
 Oli. Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the matter 
 with thee ? 
 
 Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in 
 my legs: it did come to his hands, and ronmiands 
 shall be executed. I think, we do know the swtt-t 
 Roman hand. 
 
 Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? [to thee 
 
 Mai. To bed? ay, sweetheart; and I'll come 
 
 Oli. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so 
 and kiss thy hand so ott? 
 
 Mar. How do you, Malvolio? 
 
 Mai. At your request? Ves ; nightingales an- 
 swer daws. 
 
 Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold 
 ness before my lady ? 
 
 Mai. Be nut afraid of greatness : — 'twas well writ 
 
64 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act III. 
 
 OIL Wliat meanest thou l)y that, Malvolio? 
 
 Hal. Some are born nreat, — 
 
 on. Ha ? 
 
 Mai. Home achieve qreatness, — 
 
 Oil. What sayst thou ? 
 
 Mai. And some have greatness thrust upon them. 
 
 OH. Henveii restore thee ! 
 
 Mai. Reineinber tvho commended thy yellow 
 
 on. 'J"hy yelU)W stockinj;s ? [stockings: — 
 
 Mai. And wished to see thee cross-gartered. 
 
 on. Cr.jss gartered ? [so; — 
 
 Mai. Go to ; thou art made, if thou desirest to be 
 
 on. Am I made? 
 
 Mai. If not, let me see thee a servant still. 
 
 on, Wliy, this is very midsummer madness. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Madara, the yoimg gentleman of the connt 
 Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly entreat him 
 back : he attends your ladyship's pleasure. 
 
 on. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good 
 Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my 
 cousin Toby ? Let some ol" my people have a special 
 care ol him; I would not have him miscarry for the 
 fialt of my dowry. 
 
 [Exeunt Olivia and Maria. 
 
 Mai. Oh , oh I do you come near nie now r" no 
 worse man tlian sir Toby to look to me ? This con- 
 curs directly with the letter: she sends him on 
 purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him ; for she 
 incites me to that in tlie letter. Cast thy humble 
 slough, says she ; — be opjwsite tvith a kinsman, 
 surly tvith servants, — let thy tongue tang argu- 
 ments of state,— put thyself into the trick of sin- 
 gularity; and, cwnsequently, sets down the man- 
 ner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow 
 tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. 
 I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove 
 make me tli;uik!'ul ! And, when she went away m)w. 
 Let this fellow be looked to: Fellow! not Malvolio, 
 nor alter my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing 
 adheres together; that no dram of a scruple, no 
 scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous 
 or unsafe circumstance, — Wiiat can be said? No- 
 thing, tliat can be, can come between me and the full 
 jji-cspect of my liopes. Well, Jove, not \, is the doer 
 of this, and he is to be thanked. 
 
 Re-enter Maria, with Sir Toby Belch and 
 Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanc- 
 tity ? I( all the devils in hell be drawn in little, and 
 Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll sprak to him. 
 
 Fab. Here he is, here he is: — How is't with you, 
 sir :* how is't with y(m, man ? 
 
 Mai. (Jo off; 1 discard you ; let me enjoy my pri- 
 vate ; go o(f. 
 
 Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within 
 him! did not I tell you? — Sir Toby, my lady prays 
 you to have a care of him. 
 
 Mai. Ah. ah ! does she so? 
 
 Sir To. ,Go to, go to ; peace, peace, we must deal 
 ently with him; let me alone. — How do y(»u, Mal- 
 rolio ? how is't with you ? What, man ! defy the 
 devil : consider, he's an enemy to mankind. 
 
 Mai. Do you know what yim say ? 
 
 Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he 
 takes it at heart ? Pray God, he lie not bewitched ! 
 
 Fab. Carry his water to the wise woman. 
 
 Mar. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow 
 morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for 
 more tliais I'll say. 
 
 Mai. How now, mistress? 
 
 Mar. O lord ! 
 
 Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace ; this is not the 
 way : do you not see, you move him ? let me alone 
 witli him. 
 
 Fab. No way but gentleness ; gently, gently : the 
 fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. 
 
 Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock? how dost 
 
 Ithon, chuck ? 
 
 Mai. Sir? 
 
 Sir To. Ay, iJiddy, come with me. What, man I 
 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with tsatan : 
 Hang him, fbid collier! 
 
 Mar. Get him to say his prayers; good sir Toby, 
 get him to pray. 
 
 Mai. My prayers, minx ? [ lincss. 
 
 Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of god- 
 
 Mal. Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle slial- 
 low things: I am not of your element; you shuli 
 know more hereafter. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Is't possible? 
 
 Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, 1 
 could condenm it as an improbable fiction. 
 
 Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection 
 of the device, man. 
 
 Mar. Nay, pursue him now ; lest the device take 
 air, and taint. 
 
 Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. 
 
 Mar. The house will be the quieter. 
 
 Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, 
 and bound. My niece is already in the belief, that 
 he is mad ; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure, 
 and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of 
 breath, prompt us to have mercy on him : at which 
 time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown 
 thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. 
 Enter SiK Andrew Aoue ciieek. 
 
 Fab. More matter for a May morning. 
 
 Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I wai- 
 rant, there's vinegar and pepper in't. 
 
 Fab. Is't so saucy ? 
 
 Sir And. Ay, is it, I warrant him : do but read. 
 
 Sir To. (Jive me. (Reads) Youth, whatsoever 
 thou art, thou art but a scurvy felloio 
 
 Fab. Good and valiant 
 
 Sir To. Wonder 7iot, nor admire not in thy mend, 
 tvhyldo call thee so,forltvill shew thee no reason 
 fort. 
 
 Fab. A good note : that keeps you from the blow 
 of the law. 
 
 Sir To. Thou earnest to the lady Olivia, and in 
 my sight she itses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy 
 throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for. 
 
 Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense less. 
 
 6'/V To. I will way-lay thee going home ; where 
 if it be thy cliance to kill me, 
 
 Fab. Good. 
 
 Sir To. Thoukitlest me like a rogue and a villain. 
 
 Fab. Still you keep o'the windy side of the law; 
 good. 
 
 Sir To. Fare thee well ; and God have mercy 
 upon one of our souls '. He may have mercy upon 
 mine ; but my hojie is better, and so look to thyself. 
 Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sicorn 
 enemy, Andrew AcuE-ciiiiEK. 
 
 Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs 
 cannot : I'll give't him. 
 
 Mar. Yon may have very fit occasion for't ; he is 
 now in some commerce with my lady, and will by 
 and by depart. 
 
 Sir To. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the 
 corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiif: so soon 
 as ever thou seest him, draw ; and, as thou drawest 
 swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft, that a ter- 
 rible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged 
 otf, gives manhood more approbation than e\er 
 proof itself would have earned him. Away. 
 
 Sir Aiid. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter : lor the 
 behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to 
 be of good capacity and breeding; his employment 
 between his lord and my niece confirms no less ; 
 tlierefore this letter, being so excellently ij^norant, 
 will breed no terror in the youth, he will find it 
 comes from a clodpole. But, sir, 1 will deliver his 
 challenge by word of mouth ; set upon Ague cheek 
 a notable report of valour ; and drive the gentleman, 
 (as, I know, his youth will aptly receive it,) into a 
 most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and itn- 
 
Scene i. 
 
 Oil, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 65 
 
 petiiosity. This will so irignt tnem botn, that they 
 will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Viola. 
 
 Fah. Here he comes with your niece : give them 
 \v;iy. till he t;ike leave, and pieseiitly after liitn. 
 
 Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some horrid 
 message lor a challpoge. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir To. Fah. ^ Mar. 
 
 Oil. I have said too much unto a heart of stone. 
 And laid mine honour too luichary out: 
 There's something in me, that reproves ray fault; 
 Uut such a headstrong potent fault it is, 
 That it but mocks reproof. [hears, 
 
 Vio. Witii the same 'haviour that your passion 
 (5o on my master's griefs. 
 
 OH. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture ; 
 Retuse it not. it hath no tongue to vex you : 
 And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. 
 What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny: 
 That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give';' fter. 
 
 Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my mas- 
 
 Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that, 
 Which I have given to you'^ 
 
 Vio. I will acquit you I 
 
 Oli. Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee well: 
 -A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Sir To3Y Belch a7id Fabian. 
 
 Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. 
 
 Vio. And vou, sir. 
 
 Sir To. Tiiat defence thou hast, betake thee to't : 
 of what nature the wrongs are tiiou hast done him, 
 I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despight, 
 bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard 
 end : dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, 
 for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly. 
 
 Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath 
 ;.ny (piarrel to me; my remembrance is very free 
 aiiii clear from any image of otfence done to any man. 
 
 Sir To. Y'ou'U find it otherwise, I assure you : 
 flifiefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake 
 yn.i to your guard ; lor your opposite hath in him 
 r>Oiat youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish 
 
 Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he ? [man withal. 
 
 Sir To. He is knigl-.t, dubbed with unbacked 
 r:ipier, and on carpet consideration ; but he is a 
 dex il in private brawl ; souls and bodies hath he 
 divorced three ; and his incensement at this moment 
 is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but 
 by pangs of death and sepulchre : 'hob, nob, is his 
 woid ; give't, or take't. 
 
 Vio. I will return again into the house, and desire 
 some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. 1 have 
 heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels pur- 
 posely on others, to taste their valour : belike this 
 is a man of that quirk. 
 
 Sir To. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out 
 of a very conjpetent injury ; therefore, get you on, 
 and give him his desire, liack you shall not to the 
 house, unless you undertake that with me, which 
 with as much safety you might answer him: there- 
 fore, on, or strip your sword stark naked ; for meddle 
 you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron 
 about you. 
 
 Vio. Tills is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech you, 
 do uie tills courteous office, as to know of the knight 
 what my otfence to him is; it is something of my 
 iieulii;eiice, nothing of my purpose. 
 
 Sir To. I will do so. — Signior Fabian, stay you 
 by lliis gentleman till my return. [Exit Sir Toby. 
 
 Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter"? 
 
 Fad. I know, the knight is incensed against you, 
 f-Mii to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the 
 ciiiuui.staiice more. 
 
 Vio. I bi'.seech yon, wliat manner of man is he ? 
 
 Fob. Nothing of that wonleifcil promise, to read 
 him by lii.s t'orm, as you are like to find him in the 
 o'ool of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, tlie most 
 
 •iiiil, bloody, and fatal opposite, that you could 
 
 possibly have found in any part of Illyiia ; will 
 you walk tovvards him ? I will make your peace 
 with hirn, if I can. 
 
 Vio. I shall be much bound to you fort: I ara 
 one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir 
 knight : I care not wlro- knows so much of my 
 mettle. lExeunt 
 
 Re-enter Sir 'I'oby, ivit/i Sir Andrew. 
 
 Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I have not 
 seen such a viras^o. I had a pass with him, rapier, 
 scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in with 
 such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on 
 the answer, he pays yon as surely as your feet hit 
 the ground they step on : they say, he has beeu 
 fencer to the Sophy. 
 
 Sir And. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. 
 
 Sir To. Ay, but lie will n^t now be pacified • 
 Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. 
 
 Sir And. Plague on't ; an I thought he had been 
 valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him 
 damned ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let the 
 matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey CapileL 
 
 Sir To. I'll make the motion : stand here, make 
 a good show on't; this shall end without the perdi- 
 tion of souls : marry, I'll ride your horse as well as 
 I ride you. {Aside ) 
 
 Re-enter Fabian and Yiola. 
 
 I have his horse {to Fab.) to take up the quarrel ; 
 I have persuaded him the youth's a devil. 
 
 Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him ; ana 
 pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels 
 
 Sir To. There's no remedy, sir ; he will fight with 
 you for his oath's sake : marry, he hath better be- 
 thought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now 
 scarce to be woith talking of: therefore draw, fur 
 the supportance of his vow ; he protests, he will nol 
 hurt you. 
 
 Vio. Pray God defend me ! A little thing wonld 
 make me tell them how much I lack of a man. [Aside 
 
 Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious. 
 
 Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no remedy 
 the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one 
 bout with you ; he cannot by the duello avoid it : 
 but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a 
 soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on: to't. 
 
 Sir And. Pray God, he keep his oath. {Draws 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Vio. I do assure you 'tis against my will. {Draws 
 
 Ant. Put up your sword ; — if this young gentle 
 Have done offence, I take the fault on me ; [man 
 If you offend him, I for him defy yon. {Drawing. 
 
 Sir To. You sir"? why, what are you? 
 
 Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more 
 Than you have heard him brag to vou he will. 
 
 Sir To. Nay, if you be an uncTertaker, I am fbi 
 you. {Draios.) 
 
 Enter two Officers. [ficers. 
 
 Fab. O good sir Toby, hold ; here come the of- 
 il':r To. I'll be with you anon. [To Antonio.) 
 Vio. Pray, sir, put up j'our sword, if you please. 
 
 ( To Sir A ndrew. / 
 Sir And. Marry, will I, sir ; — and, for that I 
 prt>mised you, I'll be as good as my word : he 
 will bear you easily, and reins well. 
 
 1 Off. This is the man ; do thy office. 
 
 2 OJ/'. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit 
 Of count Orsino. 
 
 Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 
 
 I Offi No, si.', no jot; 1 know your favour well, 
 Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. 
 Take him away ; he knows, I know him well. 
 
 Ant. I must obey. — This comes with seeking you ; 
 But there's no remedy ; I shall answer it. 
 What will you do'? Now my necessity 
 Makes me to ask you for my purse : it grieves nie 
 Much more, for what I cannot do for you, 
 Than what befals myself. You stand amaa'd : 
 
66 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 [int be of comfort. 
 2 Off. Come, sir, away. 
 
 Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money. 
 Vio. WlKit money, sir 1 
 For tlie fair kindness you liave show"d me here, 
 And, part, hein^ prompted by your present trouble. 
 Out of my lean and low ability 
 I'll lend you something : my having is not much ; 
 I'll make division of my present with you : 
 Hold, there is half my coffer. 
 
 Ant. Will you deny me now ? 
 
 Is't possible, that my deserts to you 
 Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery. 
 Lest that it make me so unsound a man, 
 As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
 That I have done for you. 
 
 Vio. I know of none ; 
 
 Nor know I you by \ oice, or any feature ; 
 I hate ingratitude more in a man, 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness. 
 Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption 
 Inhabits our frail blood. 
 
 Ant. O heavens themselves! 
 
 2 Off. Come, sir, 1 pray you, go. [see here. 
 
 Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth, that you 
 I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ; 
 
 Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love, 
 
 And to his image, which, methonght, did promise 
 Most venerable worth, did I devotion. [away. 
 
 1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by; 
 Ant. But, O, how \ile an idol proves this god ! — 
 Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. — 
 In nature there's no blemish, but the mind ; 
 None can be calTd deform'd, but the unkind : 
 Virtue is beauty; but the beanteous-evil 
 Are empty trunks, o'ertlourisli'd by the devil. 
 
 1 Off. The man grows mad ; uway with him. 
 Come, come, sir. 
 Ant. Lead me on.[Exettnt Officers tvith Antonio. 
 Vio. Methinks, his words do from such passion 
 That he believes himself; so do not I. Lily, 
 
 Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, 
 That I, dear brother, be now ta'en lor you ! 
 
 Sir To. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fa- 
 bian : we'll whisper o'ei a couplet or two of most 
 sage saws. 
 
 Vio. He nam'd Sebastian ; I my brother know 
 Vet living in my glass; even such and so, 
 In favour was my brother ; and he went 
 Still in this fashion, colour, ornament. 
 For him I imitate : O, if it prove. 
 Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a 
 
 coward than a hare : his dishonesty appears, in 
 
 leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying 
 
 liim; and for hia cowardship, ask Fabian. [in it. 
 
 Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious 
 
 Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him. 
 
 Sir To. Do, cull" him soundly, but never draw 
 
 'thy sword. 
 
 Sir And. An I do not, — [Exit. 
 
 Fab. Come, let's see the event. 
 Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing 
 ^yet [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The Street before Olivia's House. 
 Enter Seuastian and Clouni. 
 
 Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not 
 sent for you ? 
 
 Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ; 
 Let me be clear of thee. 
 
 Clo. Well held out, i'faith ! No, I do not know 
 yon ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid 
 you come speak with her ; nor your name is not 
 master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither. — 
 Nothing, that is so, is so. 
 
 Seb. 1 pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else ; 
 Thouknow'st not me. 
 
 Clo. Vent my folly ! he has heard that word of 
 some great man, and now ajiplies it to a fool. Vent 
 my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, 
 will prove a cockney. — I pr'ythee now, nngird thy 
 strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my 
 lady : shall I vent to her, tliat thou art coming i" 
 
 Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ; 
 There's money for thee ; if you tarry longer, 
 1 shall give worse payment. 
 
 Clo. by my troth, thou hast an open hand : — 
 These wise men, that give fools money, get them- 
 selves a good report after fourteen years purchase. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew, Sir Toby, atid Fabian. 
 
 Sir And. Now, sir, have I met yon again ? there's 
 for you. [Strikin'j Sebastian.) 
 
 Seb. Why, there's for thee, and theie, and there : 
 are all the people mad? [Beating Sir Andreto.) 
 
 Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er 
 the house. 
 
 Clo. This will 1 tell my lady straight : I would not 
 be in some of your coats for two-pence. [E.xit. Clo. 
 
 Sir To. Come on, sir; hold. [Holding Sebastian.) 
 
 Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way 
 to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery 
 against him, if there be any law in Illyria : though 
 1 struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. 
 
 Seb. Let go thy hand. 
 
 Sir To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come, 
 my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well 
 fleshed ; come on. [thou now ? 
 
 Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst 
 If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. 
 
 [Dratvs.) 
 
 Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must have an 
 ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. 
 
 Enter Olivia. [Dratvs.) 
 
 OH. Hold, Toby ; on thy life, I charge thee, hold. 
 
 Sir To. Madam ? 
 
 on. Will it be ever thu.s ? Ungracious wretch. 
 Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves. 
 Where manners ne'er were ijreach'd ! out of my 
 
 I3e not ofi'ended, dear Cesario! [sight ! 
 
 Rudesby, be gone ! — I pr'ythee, gentle friend, 
 
 [Exeunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian. 
 
 Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
 In this uncivil and unjust extent 
 Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ; 
 And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks 
 This ruffian hatlf botch'd up, Ihat thou thereby 
 May'st smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go, 
 Do not deny : beshrew his sonl for me. 
 He started one poor heart of mine in thee. 
 
 Seb. What relish is in this ? how runs the stream ? 
 Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : — 
 Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ; 
 If it be thus to dream, still Jet me sleeu. 
 
 OH. Nay, come, I pr'ythee : 'would thou'dst be 
 
 Seb. Madam, I will. [rul'd by me ! 
 
 OH. O, say so, and so be ! [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. A Room in Olivia's House. 
 Enter Maria and Clotvn. 
 
 Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and tlii 
 beard ; make him believe thou art sir Topas the 
 curate; do it quickly : I'll call sir Toby the whilst 
 
 [Exit Maria 
 
 Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble 
 myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever 
 dissembled in such a gown. I am not fat enough 
 to become the function well; nor lean enough tt 
 be thought a good student : but to be said, au ho 
 nest man, and a good housekeeper, goes as fairly 
 as to say, a careful man, and a great scholar. The 
 competitors enter. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch and Marl«. 
 
 Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. 
 Clo. Bonos dies, Sir Toby ; for as the old 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 07 
 
 of Prague, tliat never snw pen and ink, very wittily 
 said to a niece of king Gorbodiic, That, that is, is : 
 so I, beinj; master parson, am master parson ; lor 
 what is tiiat, but tliat ? and is, but is ? 
 Sir To. To liini, sir Topas. 
 Clo. What, hoa, I say, — Peace in this ()rison ! 
 Sir To. Tlie knave counterlieitswell ; a j^ood knave. 
 Mai. [in an inner chamber.) VVlio calls there "'' 
 C'to. Sir Tojias, the curate, wlio conies to visit 
 Maivoho tiie lunatic. [my lady. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good Sir Touas, go to 
 
 do. Out, hyperbolical liend ! iiow vexest thou 
 this man .•' talkest thou nothing but of ladies ? 
 Sir To. Well said, nisster parson. 
 
 Mai. Sir 'I'opas, never was man thus wronged : 
 good sir Topas, do not think I am mad ; they have 
 laid me here in hideous darkness. 
 
 Clo. Fye, tiiou dislionest Sathan ! I call thee by 
 the most modest terms ; for I am one ot' those 
 gentle ones, that will use the devil hirnsell' with 
 courtesy : say'st thou, that house is dark ? 
 
 Mai. As hell, sir Topas. 
 
 Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows, transparent as 
 barricadoes, and the clear stones towards tin- 
 soutli-north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet 
 complainest thou of obstruction ? 
 
 Mai. I am not mad, sir Topas ; I say to you, 
 this house is dark. 
 
 Clo. i\laduian, thou errest : I say, there is no 
 darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art more 
 phzzled, tiian the Egyptians in tlieir fog. 
 
 Mai. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, 
 though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say, 
 there was never man thus abused : I am no more 
 mad than you are ; make the trial ol' it in any con- 
 stant question. 
 
 Clo. What is tlie ojjinion of Pythagoras, con- 
 cerning wild (owl .'' (inhabit a bird. 
 
 Mai. That the soul of our grandani might haply 
 
 Clo. What thiiikest thou of his opinion V 
 
 Mai. I think nobly of tiie soul, and no way ap- 
 prove his opinion. 
 
 Clo. Fare thee well ; remain thou still in dark- 
 ness : thou slialt hoid the opinion of Pythagoras, 
 ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a 
 woodcock, lest t'lou dispossess the soul of thy 
 grandam. Fare thee we'A. 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas ! 
 
 Sir To. JMy most exquisite sir Topas ! 
 
 Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. 
 
 Mar. Tliou might'st have done this without thy 
 beard, and gown ; he sees thee not. 
 
 Sir To. 'I'o him in thine own voice, and bring 
 me word how thou findesf him : I would we were 
 well rid of this knavery. If he may be convenient- 
 ly delivered, I would he were ; for I am now so 
 far in ottence with my niece, that I cannot pursue 
 with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by 
 and by to my chamber. [Exeunt SirToby and Maria. 
 
 Clo. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, 
 
 Tell me now thy lady does. (Singing.) 
 
 Mai. Fool, — 
 
 Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. 
 
 Mai. Fool, — 
 
 Clo. Alas, why is she so 1 
 
 Mai. Fool, 1 say ; — 
 
 Clo. She loves another — Who calls, ha ? 
 
 Mai. Good iool, as ever thoa wilt deserve well 
 at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and 
 paper : as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thank- 
 
 Clo. iVIaster Maholio ! [ful to thee for't. 
 
 Mai. Ay, good fool. 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits ? 
 
 Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously 
 abused : I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art, 
 
 Cln, But as well i then you are mad, indeed, if 
 \ou be no better in your wits than a fool. 
 
 Mai. They have here ^iropertied me ; keep me 
 In darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do 
 all they can to face me out of my wits. 
 
 Clo. Advise you wliat you say ; the minister is 
 here. — Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens 
 restore I endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy 
 
 Mai. Sir Topas, [vain bibble babbie, 
 
 Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow. 
 
 Wiio, I, sir i' not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir 
 Topas. — i\larry, amen. — I will, sir, 1 will 
 
 Mai. Fool, "tool, ibol, I say. — 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir ? 1 
 am shent tor speaking to you. 
 
 Mai. Good fool, help nie to some light, and 
 some paper ; 1 tell thee, 1 am as well in my wits as 
 any man in Illyria. 
 
 Clo. Weil-a-day, — that you were, sir; 
 
 Mai. By this hand, I am : good tool, some ink, 
 paper, and light, and convey what I will set down 
 to my lady ; it shall advantage thee more than ever 
 the bearing of letter did. 
 
 Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, aie 
 you not mad indeed i or do you but counterfeit V 
 
 Mai. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. 
 
 Clo, Nay, Til ne'er believe a madman, till I see 
 his brains. 1 will fetch you light, and paper, and ink. 
 
 Fal. Fool- I'll requite it in the highest degree : 
 I pr'ythee, be gone. 
 
 Clo. I am gone, sir. 
 
 And anon, sir, 
 III be with you again. 
 In a trice. 
 Like to the old vice, 
 Ifour need to sustain; 
 
 Who icith dagger of lath. 
 In his rage and his tcrath. 
 
 Cries ah, ha ! to the devil : 
 Like a mad lad. 
 Pare thy nails , dad, 
 
 Adieu, ijoodiiian drivel. \Exil. 
 
 Scene ITI. — Olivia's Garden. 
 
 Enter Sebastian. 
 
 iS'eZi. This is the air; that is the glorious sun 
 This pearl she gave me, I do feel't, and see't : 
 And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus. 
 Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Atitonio then ? 
 I could not find him at the Elephant : 
 'ifet there he was; and there 1 found this credit, 
 That he did range the town to seek nie out. 
 His counsel now might do me golden service . 
 For though my soul disputes well with my sense, 
 That this may be some error, but no madness. 
 Vet doth this accident and flood of fortune 
 So far exceed all instance, all discourse. 
 That I am ready to distrust mine eyes. 
 And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me 
 To any other trust, but that I am mad. 
 Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if 'twere so, [lowers, 
 She could not sway her house, command her fol- 
 Take, and give back, affairs, and their despatch. 
 With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing. 
 As, I perceive, she does : there's somethimr in 't, 
 That is deceivable. But here comes the lady. 
 
 Enter Olivia and a Priest. 
 
 OH. Blame not this haste of mine: if you mean 
 Now go with me, and with this holy man, [>'ell. 
 Into the chantry by : there, before him, 
 And underneath that consecrated root, 
 F'light me the full assurance of your <a''h : 
 'Jhat my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
 I\lay live at peace : he shall conceal it. 
 Whiles you are willing it shall come to note ; 
 What time we will our celebration keep 
 According to my birth. — What do you say ? 
 
 Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you ; 
 And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 
 
 Oli. Then lead the way, good father ; And 
 
 heavens so shine, 
 That they may fairly note this act of mine ! [Exeunt 
 
68 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The Street before Olivia's house. 
 Enter Clown and Fabian. 
 Fnh. Now, as tliou lovest me, let ine see his letter. 
 CVo.Ooud mastsi- Fabian, grant me another request. 
 Fab. Any thing. 
 
 (Ho. Di) not (JesH-e to see tliis letter. 
 Fab. Tliat is, to give a dog, and, iu recompense, 
 iesire my dog again. 
 
 Enter Duke, Viola, arid Attendmtts. 
 
 Dale. Belong you to the lady Olivia, iriends? 
 
 do. Ay, sir ; we are some ol' her trappings. 
 
 DuL-e. 1 know tliee well : how dost thou, my 
 good t'cllow '! [worse for my friends. 
 
 Clo. 'IVuly, sir, the better for my i'oes, and the 
 
 Duke. Just tlie contrary ; the better for thy friends. 
 
 Clo. No, sir, the worse. 
 
 Duke. How can that be V 
 
 Clo. Many, sir, they praise me, and make an ass 
 of me ; now, my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : 
 .so tliat hy my foes, sir, 1 prolit m the knowledge ol 
 myself; and by my iiiends I am abused : so th:it, 
 conclusions to be as kisses, if your I .ur negatives 
 make your two allirmatives, why, then the worse 
 for iiiy friends, and the better lor my ibes. 
 
 Duke. Why, this is excellent. 
 
 Clo. liy my troth, sir, uo ; though it please you 
 to lie one of my friends. [there's gold. 
 
 Duke. 'I'hou shdlt not be the worse for nie ; 
 
 Clo. liut that it would be double-dealing, sir, 1 
 woidd you could make it anotliei'. 
 
 Duke. O, you give me ill counsel. 
 
 Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this 
 once, and let your (lesh and blood obey it. 
 
 Duke. Well, 1 will be so much a sinner to be a 
 double dealer; tiiere's :iiiother. 
 
 Clo. Primo, sec undo, tertio, is a good play j and 
 tile old saying is, the tliird pays for all : tlie triplex, 
 sir, is a good trippmg measure; or the bells of St. 
 Brunet, sir, may put you in miuu; One, two, three. 
 
 Duke. You can fuol no moie money out of me 
 at this throw : if you will let your lady know, I cm 
 here to speak with her, and bring her along with 
 you, it may awake my bounty lurtlier. 
 
 Clo. Marry, sir, lulluby to your bounty, fill I 
 couie again. 1 go, sir; butl would not have you 
 to thuik, that my desire of having is the sin of 
 covetoMsness : but, as you say, sir, let your bounty 
 take a nap, 1 will awake it anon. [Exit Clown. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Officers. 
 
 Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. 
 
 Duke. That face of his I do remember well ; 
 Vet, wiieii 1 saw it last, it was besmear'd 
 As bltick as Vulcan, in the smoke of war: 
 A bawbiinj; vessel was he captain of. 
 For shallow draught, and bulk, unjirizable; 
 \V itii which such scathful grapple did he make 
 With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 
 'I'hat very envy, and the tongue of loss, 
 Cry'd fame and honour on him. — What's the matter? 
 
 1 Oj)'. Orsino, this is tiiat Antonio, 
 That look the Phoenix, and her fraught, from Candy ; 
 Aiitl this is^e, that did the 'I'iger board, 
 VV hen your young nephew Titus lost his leg : 
 Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state. 
 In private brabble did we apprehend him. 
 
 Vio. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side ; 
 But, in ciiucliision, put strange speech upon me, 
 
 I know not what 'twas, but distraction. 
 
 IJuke. Notable pirate ! thou salt-water tliief! 
 Wlkit liiolish jjolduess brought thee to their mercies, 
 V\"ii,im thou, iu terms .so bloody, and so dear, 
 
 II st made thine enemies? 
 
 Ant. Orsino, noble .sir, 
 
 B- phas'd that I shake off these names you give me ; 
 Aiitouio never yet was thief, or pirate. 
 Though, i confess, on base and gionnd enou;;h 
 
 Orsino s enemy. A witchcraft drew nie hither; 
 
 That most ungrateful boyithere, by your side, - 
 
 From the rude sea's emag'd and foamy mouth 
 
 Did 1 redeem ; a wreck past hope he was ; 
 
 His life 1 gave him, and did thereto add 
 
 My love, without retention, or restraint, 
 
 All his in dedication : for his sake. 
 
 Did 1 expose myself, pure for his love. 
 
 Into the danger of this adverse town; 
 
 Drew to delend him, when he was beset; 
 
 Where being apprehended, his false cunning 
 
 (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) 
 
 Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance. 
 
 And grew a tweuty-years-removed thing, 
 
 While one would wink ; denied me mine own purse 
 
 Which I had recommended to his use 
 
 Not half an hour before. 
 
 Vio. How can this be ? 
 
 Duke. When came he to this town ? [fore, 
 
 Ajit. To-day, my lord; and for three months be- 
 (No interim, not a minute's vacancy,) 
 Both day and night did we keep company. 
 
 Enter Olivia and Attendants. 
 
 Duke. Here comes the countess; now heavec 
 
 walks on earth. 
 
 But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness : 
 'I'hree months this youth hath tended upon me; 
 But more of that anon. Take him aside. 
 
 Oli. What would my lord, but that he may not 
 Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ? — [have, 
 Cesario, you do not keep promise with nie. 
 
 Vio. Madam ! 
 
 Duke. Gracious Olivia, [lord, — 
 
 OH. What do you say, Cesario ? — Gooi my 
 
 Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me 
 
 Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, uiy lord, 
 It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear 
 As howling after music. 
 
 Duke. Still so cruel ? 
 
 Oli. Still so constant, lord. 
 
 Duke. What! to perveiseness? you uncivil lady. 
 To whose ingrate and unmispicioiis altars 
 My soul the laitiifull'st otlerings hath breath'd out, 
 Ti'.;tt e'er devotion tender'd ! VVhat shall I do? 
 
 Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall 
 become him. 
 
 Duke. Why should 1 not, had I the heart to do it. 
 Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death. 
 Kill what I love; a savage jealousy. 
 That sometimes savours nobly ? — But hear me this . 
 Since you to non-regardance cast my faith. 
 And that 1 partly know the instrument 
 That screws me from my true place in your favour. 
 Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, s.ill; 
 But this your minion, whom, i know, you love. 
 And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly 
 Him will I tear out of tiiat cruei eye. 
 Where he sits crovvned in his master's spite. — 
 Come, boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mis. 
 I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, [chief* 
 
 To spite a raven's heart within a dove. {Going. 
 
 Vto. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly. 
 To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
 
 {Following. 
 
 Oli. Where goes Cesario ? 
 
 Vio. After him I love 
 
 More than I love these eyes, more than my lile. 
 More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife; 
 If I do feign, you witnesses aboie, 
 Punish my life, for tainting of niy love ! 
 
 Oli. Ah me, detested ! how am 1 beguil'd ! 
 
 Vio. Who does beguile you ? who does do you 
 
 wrong 
 
 V 
 
 Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? — 
 Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant 
 
 Duke. Come away. {To Viola.) 
 
 Oli. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay 
 Duke. Husband ? 
 Oli. Ay, husband ; can he that deny 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 09 
 
 Duke. Her husband, sirrah ? 
 
 Vio. ^o, my lord, nol I. 
 
 (in. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear. 
 That makes tliee strangle thy propriety : 
 Pear not, Cesario, take thy I'ortunes up; 
 Be that thou know'st thou art, and tlieii thou art 
 As great as that thou fear'st. — O, welcome, father ! 
 
 Re-enter Attendant and Priest. 
 Father, 1 charge thee, by thy reverence. 
 Here to unfold (though lately we intended 
 To keep iu darkness, what occasion now 
 Iteveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know. 
 Hath newly past between this youth and me. 
 
 Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 
 Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, 
 Attested by the holy close of lips, 
 Strengthend by iiiterchangement of your rings ; 
 And all the ceremony of this compact 
 Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: 
 .Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my 
 I have travelled but two hours. [grave 
 
 Duke. O, thou dissembling cub I what \\ilt thou be, 
 When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? 
 Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, 
 That thine own trip shall be tiiitie ovrrtluow? 
 Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet, 
 Where tliou and I henceforth may never meet 
 
 Vio. My lord, 1 do protest, — 
 
 OH. O, do not swear; 
 
 Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, ivith his head 
 broke. 
 
 Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; send 
 one presently to sir Toby. 
 
 OH. What's the matter? 
 
 Sir And. He lias broke my head across, and has 
 given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too : ibr the love of 
 God, your help; I had ratiier than ibrty pound I 
 were at home. 
 
 0/i. Who has done this, sir Andrew? 
 
 Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario : 
 we took hnn for a coward, but he's the very devil 
 
 Duke. My gentleniaa, Cesario! [incardinate. 
 
 Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is : — You broke 
 my head lor noticing ; and that that I did, I was set 
 on to do't by sir Toby. 
 
 Vio. VVliy do you speak to me ? I never hurt you : 
 You drew your sword upon me, without cause ; 
 Hut 1 bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 
 
 Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you 
 have hint me ; I think, you set nothing by a bloody 
 coxcomb. 
 
 Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the Clown. 
 Here conies Sir Toby halting, you shall liear more : 
 bnt if he had not been in drink, he would have iickled 
 you othergates than he did. 
 
 Duke. How now, gentleman? how is't with you ? 
 
 Sir To. That s all one ; he has hurt nip, and there's 
 the end on't. — Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon, sot? 
 
 Clo. O, he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; his 
 eyes were set at eight i' the morning. 
 
 Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, 
 or a pavin, I hate a drunken rogue. 
 
 on. Away with him : who hath made this havock 
 with them? [be dressed together. 
 
 Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll 
 
 Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a cox- 
 comb, and a knave? a tiiin-tiiced knave, a gull? 
 
 OH. (let him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. 
 [Exeunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andreit. 
 
 Enter Supastian. 
 Seb. I am sony, madam, I have hurt your kinsman ; 
 But, had it hetn the brother of my blood, 
 I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. 
 You throw a strange regard upon me, and 
 By that I do perceive it hath olfended you ; 
 Pardon uie, sweet one, even ibr tiie vows 
 We made each otiier but so lale Ujjo. 
 
 Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two 
 
 A ii.ii ir.il peispective, that is, and is not. [persons; 
 
 Seb. Antonio, O ni\ dear Antonio ' 
 How have the huiirs rack'd und tortur'd me, 
 Since I have lost thee. 
 
 Ant. Sebastian are you? 
 
 Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio? 
 
 A^tt. How have you made division ot \oiirself?-. 
 An apple, cleft in two, is nut incue twin 
 Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? 
 
 OH. Most wonderlul 1 
 
 Seb. Do I stand there? I never had a brother 
 Nor can there be that deity in my nature. 
 Of here and every where. 1 luid a sister. 
 Whom the blind waves and surges have dev oiir'd :- 
 Of charity, what kin are you to me ? [To Viola.) 
 What countryman? what name V what parentage V 
 
 Vio. 01 Messaline : Sebastian was my lather; 
 Such a Sebastian was my brotlier loo. 
 So went he siiittd to his watery tomb : 
 If spirits can assume both form and suit. 
 You come to frinlit us. 
 
 Seb. A spirit 1 am, indeed ; 
 
 But am in that dimension grossly clad. 
 Which from the womb I did participate. 
 Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
 I should my tears let fall upon your cht-ek, 
 And say — Thrice welcome, diowiied Viola! 
 Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. 
 
 Seb. And so had mine. 
 
 Vio. And died that day, when Viola fiom her birth 
 Had niimber'd thirteen years. 
 
 Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul ! 
 He finished, indeed, his mortal act, 
 'J'hat day that made my sister thirteen years. 
 
 Vio. If nothing lets to make iis happy both, 
 Bnt this my masculine usiirp'd attire. 
 Do not embrace me, till each cinuimstance 
 Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump^ 
 That I am Viola : which to confirm, 
 I'll bring you to. a captain in this town, 
 Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help 
 I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count : 
 All the occurrence of my fortune since 
 Hath been between this lady, and this lord. 
 
 Seb. So comes it, lady, you liav e been mistook : 
 But nature to her bias drew in that. {To Olivia?) 
 You wou'd have been contracted to a maid; 
 Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd. 
 You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 
 
 Duke. Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood. — 
 If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, 
 I shall have share in this most happy wreck : 
 Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times, { To \ io } 
 Thou never shoiild'st love woman like to me. 
 
 Vio. And all tho.se sayings will 1 oyer swear ; 
 And all those swearings keep as true in soul. 
 As doth that orbed continent the fire 
 'i'liat severs day from night. 
 
 Duke. Give me thy hand ; 
 
 And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 
 
 Vio. The captain, that did bring ine first on shore. 
 Hath my maid's garments : he, upon some action, 
 Is now in durance ; at Malvolio's suit, 
 A gentleman, and follower of my lady's^. 
 
 OH. He sh til enlarge him : fetch Malvolio hither: — 
 And yet, alas, now I remember me. 
 They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. 
 
 Re-enter Cljwn, with a letter, 
 
 A most extracting frenzy of mine own 
 
 From my remeinbran>e clearly banish'd his. — 
 
 How does he, sirrah? 
 
 ( iu. '1 riily, madam, he hihfs Bi Izebnb at the 
 stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do: 
 he has here writ a letter to you, I should have giv eu 
 it you to-day morning; but as a madinan's e|)isl!e« 
 are iin j;. s) els, so it skills not much, when tiiey are 
 
 OH. Oijen U, and read it. (delivered. 
 
70 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Vlo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool 
 delivers the mndnian : — By the Lord, madam, — 
 
 OIL How now ! art thou mad ? 
 
 Vio. No madam, I do but read madness : an your 
 iidvship will have it as it ought to be, yon must 
 
 On. Fr'ytWee, read i' thy right wits, [allow I'ox, 
 
 Clo. So I do, madonna ; but to read his right wits, 
 is to read thus : therefore perpend, my princess, and 
 give ear. 
 
 OH. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian.) 
 
 Fab. (reads.) By the Lord, madam, you lorong 
 me, and the ivorld shall knoiv it : though you have 
 f)ut me into darkness, and given your drtmhen 
 cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my 
 senses as ivell as your ladyship. I have your otvn 
 letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; 
 with the which I doubt not but to do myself much 
 right or you much shame. Think of me as you 
 please. 1 leave my duty a little unthought of, and 
 speak out of my injury. 
 
 The madly-used Malvolio. 
 
 OH. Did he write this ? 
 
 Clo. Ay, madam. 
 Duke. This i 
 
 I savours not much of distraction. 
 Oli. See him delivered, Fabian: bring hiui hither. 
 
 [Exit Fabian. 
 My lord, so please you, these things further thought 
 To think me as well a sister as a wife. [on, 
 
 One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please yon. 
 Here at my house, and at my proper cost. 
 Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your 
 offer. — 
 Your master quits you; [To Viola.) and, for your 
 
 service done him. 
 So much against the mettle of your sex, 
 So far beneath your soft and tende;- breeding, 
 And since you cali'd me master for so long. 
 Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be 
 Your ma.ster's mistress. 
 
 Oli. A sister ? — you are she. 
 
 Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 
 
 Duke. Is this the madman ? 
 
 Oli. Ay, my lord, the same : 
 
 How now, Malvolio? 
 
 Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong. 
 
 Notorious wrong. 
 
 Oli. Havel, Malvolio? no. 
 
 Mai. Lady, yon have. Pray you, peruse that letter : 
 You must not now deny it is your hand. 
 Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase; 
 Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention: 
 You can say none of this : well, grant it then, 
 And tell me, in the modesty of honour, 
 Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ; 
 Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to you, 
 To put on yellow stockings, and to frown 
 Upon sir Toby, and the lighter people : 
 .And, acting this in an obftdient hope. 
 Why have yon su,T''>-'d me to be imprison'd. 
 Kept in a dark bous-, visited by the priest, 
 And made the most notorious geek, and gull. 
 That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why. 
 
 Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, 
 Though, 1 confe«3, much like the character : 
 But, ontof ones' on, 'tis Maria's hand. 
 Anil now I do b) think me, it was she 
 
 First told me, thou wast niad ; then r»ni st in smiling, 
 And in such forms which here were presuppos'd 
 Upon thee in the letter. Pry'thee, be content: 
 This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee; 
 But, when we know the grounds and authors of it. 
 Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
 Of thine own caase. 
 
 F'ab. Good madam, hear me speak; 
 
 And let no qnarrel, nor no brawl to come. 
 Taint the condition of thi.s present hour. 
 Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not. 
 Most freely I confess, myself and Toby, 
 Set this device against Malvolio here, 
 Upon some stubborn and uncourteons parts 
 We had conceiv'd against him : Maria writ 
 The letter, at sir Toby's great importance ; 
 In recompense whereof, he hath married her. 
 How with a sportful malice it was fbllow'd. 
 May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; 
 If that the injuries be justly weigh'd, 
 That have on both sides past. 
 
 Oli. Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled thee ! 
 
 Clo. Why, some are born great, some achievf 
 greatness, and some have greatness throicn upon 
 them. I was one, sir, in this interlude ; one Kr 
 Topas, sir; but that's all one : — By the Lord, fool, 
 I am not mad; — But do you remember? Madam, 
 ivhy laugh you at such a barren rascal'/ an yvu 
 smile not, he's gagg'd : and thus the whirligig of 
 time brings in his revenges. 
 
 Mai, I'll be revenged on the whole pack of yon. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 OH. He hath been most notoriously abu.s'd. 
 
 Duke. Pursue him. and entreat him to a peace :— 
 He hath not told us of the captain yet; 
 When that is known, and golden time convent?, 
 A solemn combination shall be made 
 Of our dear souls. — Meantime, sweet sister, 
 VVe will not part from hence. — Ce.sario, come ; 
 For so you shall be, while you are a man ; 
 But, when in other habits you are seen, 
 Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen. | Exeutii^ 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Clo. When that I was and a little tiny boy. 
 
 With hey, ho, the ivind and the rain, 
 A foolish thing was but a toy. 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came to man's estate. 
 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the ram, 
 
 ^Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate. 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came, alas! to wi?'e. 
 
 With hey, ho, the vjind and the rain. 
 By stvaggering could I never thrive. 
 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 But when I came unto my bed. 
 
 With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. 
 
 With toss-pots still had drunken head. 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 
 A great while ago the ivorld begun. 
 With hey, ho, the ivind and the rain. 
 
 But that's all one, our play is done. 
 And we'll strive to please you every dtn/. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 "liB novel of Giraldi Ci!)tliio, from which Shakgoeare is supposed to have horroweil this fable, may be real in 
 S'l'tixvare Jlliistraied, elegantly translated, with remarks which will assist the inquirer to discover how much 
 h.iMit.litv Shakspeare has admitted or avoided. „„..,. ... , , ■ ,. • 
 
 I caniiot but suspect Ihnt siime other had new-modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story which in seme 
 tiarticulars resembled it, and ihat Cinthio was not the author whom Shaksii«are immediately followed. The emperor 
 111 Cinthio Is named Maxiraine : the duke, in Shakspean's enumeration of the persiuis ot the drama, is called Vin- 
 ceiilio Thi.s appears a very .slight remark; but since the duke has noname in (he play, nor is ever mentioned but by 
 his title whv should he be called Vinrentio aini.ng the persons, but because the name was copied from the story, 
 and placed superfluously at the head of the list, bv the mere hahit of transcription? It is therefore likely that there 
 was (hen a story of Vincentio duke of Vienna, ditferent from that of Maximine emperor of the Romans. 
 
 Of this play, the light or comic part is very natural and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a tew passages lie 
 excepteil, have more labour than elegance. The plot is rathfr intricate than artlul. The tune of the action is inde- 
 finite • some time we know not how much, must have elapsed between the recess of the duke and the imprisonment 
 of Clodio; for lie must have If-arned tlie story if Mariana in his disguise, or he delegated his power to a man already 
 known to be corrupted. The unities of action and place are sufficiently preserved. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 VINCENTIO, Duke of Ylemiu. 
 
 ANGELO, Lord Deputy in the Duke's nbsence. 
 
 ESCALLS, ail ancient Lord, joined v:ith Angela in the 
 
 dtputtition. 
 CL.MJDIO, a vonna Oenthman. 
 LUCID, n F-iiitns'ic. 
 Two other likp Gentlemen. 
 
 VARRIUS, « Gentlema7i, Servant to the Duke. 
 Provost 
 
 THOMAS,— PETER,— two Friars 
 A Justice. . 
 ELBOW, a simple Constable. 
 
 FROTH, a foolish Gentleman. 
 Cloun. .Servant to Mrs. Over-done. 
 AI5H0RS0N. art Executioner. 
 BARNARD INE, a dissolute Prisoner. 
 
 ISABELLA, Sister to Claudia. 
 MARl.\NA, betrothed to Angela. 
 JULIET, beloved by Claudia. 
 FRANCISCA. a Nun. 
 Mistress OVER DONE, a Bawd. 
 
 Lards, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Vienna. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Duhe. Escalus, — 
 
 Escal. My lord. 
 
 Duke. Of government the properties to unfold, 
 Would seem in me to aft'ect speech and discourse; 
 Since [ am put to know, that your own science 
 Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice 
 My strength can give you : then no more remains 
 IJut that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able. 
 And let tiieni work.. The nature of our people, 
 Our city's institutions, and the terms 
 For common justice, you aie as pregnant in, 
 .\s art and practice hath enriched any 
 I'hat we remember: there is our commission. 
 From which we would not have you warp. — Call 
 I say, bid come before us Angelo. — [hither, 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 What fiijure of us, think you, he will bear? 
 For you must know, we have with special soul 
 Elected him our absence to supply; 
 Lent him our terror, drest him with our love ; 
 And given his deputation all the organs 
 Of our own power: what think you of it? 
 
 Escal. If any in Vienna he ot worth 
 To undergo such ample grace and hour, 
 ft is lord Angelo. 
 
 Enter Anuelo. 
 
 Dulce. Look, where he comes. 
 
 .Ang. Always obedient to your grace's will, 
 ' f.'ine to know your pleasure. 
 
 Duke. Angelo, 
 
 There is a kind of character in thy life. 
 That, to the observer, doth thy history 
 Fully unfold: thyself and thy belongings 
 Are not thine own so proper, as to waste 
 'J'hyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. 
 Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do; 
 Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues 
 Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
 As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd, 
 I>iit to fine issues: nor nature never lends 
 The smallest scruple of her excellence, 
 
 But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
 
 Herself the glory of a creditor. 
 
 Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech 
 
 'I'o one, that can my part in him advertise ; 
 
 Hold therefore, Angelo ; 
 
 In our remove, be thou at full ourself; 
 
 Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
 
 Live in thy tongue and heart: Old Escalus, 
 
 Though first in question, is thy secondary : 
 
 Take thy commission. 
 
 An(j. Now, good my lord. 
 
 Let there be some more test made of my metal. 
 Before so noble and so great a figure 
 Be stamp'd upon it. 
 
 Duke. No more e\ asion : 
 
 We have, with a leaven'd and prepared choice. 
 Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours. 
 Our h.^ste from hence is of so quick condition, 
 That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd 
 Matters of needful value. We shall write to you. 
 As time and our concernings shall importune. 
 How it goes with us ; and do look to know 
 What doth befall you here. So, fare you wel: 
 To the hopeful e,xecution do I leave you 
 Of your commissions. 
 
 Amj. Yet, give leave, my lord 
 
 That we may bring you something on the way. 
 
 Duke. My haste may not admit it ; 
 Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do 
 With any scruple : your scope is as niine own ; 
 So to enforce, or qualify the laws. 
 As to your soul seems good. Give me your h iiid; 
 I'll privily away : I love the people. 
 But do not like to stage me to tlieir eyes : 
 Though it do well, I do not relish well 
 Their loud applause, and aves vehement : 
 Nor do I think the man of safe discretion. 
 That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. 
 
 Any. The heavens give safety to your purposes. 
 
 Eacal. Lead forth, and bring you back in happi 
 ness. 
 
 Duke. I thank yon : fare you well. [Extt. 
 
 Escal. I shall desire yon, sir, to give me leave 
 To have free speech with you ; and it concerns me 
 To look into the bottom of my place : 
 A power I have; but of what .strength and nature 
 
72 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 i am not yet instructed!. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis so with me: — Let us withdraw toge- 
 And we may soon our satisfaction have [ther, 
 
 Touching that point. 
 
 Escal. I'll wait upon your honour. [.Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Street. 
 Enter Lucio and two Gentlemen. 
 Lncin. It" the duke, with the other dukes, come 
 not to composition with the king of riun^jary, why, 
 then all the dukes fall upon the king. 
 
 1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the 
 king of Hungary's ! 
 
 2 Gent. Amen. 
 
 Itucio. Tiiou concludest like the sanctimonious 
 
 C irate, tliat went to sea with the ten commandments, 
 ut scraped one out of the table. 
 2 Gent. Thou shalt not steal ? 
 liucio. Ay, that he razed. 
 
 1 Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to command 
 the captain and all the rest tiom their fnuctidns; 
 they put torth to steal : there's not a soldier of ns all, 
 that, in the thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the 
 petition well, that prays for peace. 
 
 2 Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it. 
 liucio. I believe thee ; ibr, I think, thou never 
 
 wast where grace was said. 
 
 2 Gent. No? a dozen times at least. 
 
 1 Gent. What? in metre? 
 
 Jjitcio. In any proportion, or in any language. 
 
 I Gent. I think, or in any religion. 
 
 Lucio. Ay ! why not'-' Grace is grace, despite ol 
 all coiitniveisy : as for example; Thou tliysL'lf art 
 a wicked villain, despite of all grace. 
 
 I Gent. Well, tliere went but a pair of sheers 
 between us. 
 
 Lucio. 1 grant; as there may between the lists 
 and tlie vehet: thou art the list. 
 
 1 Gent. And thou the velvet: thou art good vel- 
 vet; thou art a three-pil'd piece. I warrant tliee : 
 I had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be 
 pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French vehet. Do 1 
 speak feelingly now •' 
 
 Lucio. I tliink thou dost; and, indeed, with most 
 painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine 
 own confession, learn to begin thy health ; but, whilst 
 I live, forget to drink after thee. 
 
 1 Gent. 1 think, I have done myself wrong; have 
 I not ? [tainted or free. 
 
 2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whettier llion art 
 Lucio- Behold, behold, where madam Mitigation 
 
 comes! I have purchased as many diseases under 
 her roof, as come to — 
 •J Gent. To what, I pray? 
 
 1 Gent. Judge. 
 
 2 Gent. 'Vo three thousand dollars a-year. 
 1 Gent. Ay, and more. 
 
 Lucio. A French crown more. 
 
 I Gent. Thou art always figiiring diseases in me : 
 iiut thou art full of error; I am sound. 
 
 Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy ; but 
 -so sound, as tilings that are hollow: thy bones are 
 hollow : impiety has made a feast c-f thee. 
 
 Enter Bawd. 
 1 Gent. How now ? which of your hips has the 
 
 most profound sciatica? 
 
 Bawd. Well, well ; there's one yonder arrested, 
 and carried to prison, was worth five thousand oi 
 you ail. 
 
 1 Gent. Who's that, I pray thee ? 
 
 Bawd. Marry, sir, tlial's (JIaudio, signior Claudio. 
 
 1 Gent. Clauilio to |)rison ! 'tis not so. 
 
 Bawd. N.iy. hut I know, 'tis so: I saw him ar 
 rest"') ; -::nv iiuii c^init-fl ^iway : aiul, w'lich is more, 
 within these three days his head's to be cho.iped oft. 
 
 Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would not have 
 it so: ait llioii bUie ut tliis :' 
 
 iitiwd. I ani too sure of it: and it is forgetting 
 niadaiu Jiiliettu witii child 
 
 Lucto. Believe me, this may be ; he promised to 
 meet me two hours since ; and he was ever precis** 
 in promise- keeping. 
 
 2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something 
 near to the speecli we had to such a purpose. 
 
 1 Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the pro- 
 clamation. 
 
 Lucio. Away ; let's go learn tiie truth of it. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen. 
 
 Bawd. Thus, whit with the war, wliat with the 
 sweat, wliat with the gallows, and wtiat with po- 
 verty, I am custom-shrunk. How now? what's the 
 news with you ? 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison. 
 
 Baivd. Well ; what has he done ? 
 
 VIo. A WMinan. 
 
 Bawd. But what's his offence? 
 
 Clo. Grojiing for trouts in a peculiar river. 
 
 Bawd. What, is there a maid with child by him? 
 
 Clo. No; but there is a woman with maid by him: 
 you have not heard of tiie proclamation, have you ? 
 
 Bawd. What proclamation, man? 
 
 Clo. Ail houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be 
 pliick'd down. 
 
 Bawd. And whatshall become of those in the city? 
 
 Clo. Tliey shall stand for seed : they had gone 
 down too, but tnat a wise burgher put in for them. 
 
 Batvd. But shall all our houses of resort in the 
 suburbs be puUd down? 
 
 Clo. To the ground, mistress. 
 
 Batvd. Wliy, here's a change, indeed, in the com- 
 monwealth I What shall become of me? 
 
 Clo. Come ; fear not you : good counsellors lack 
 no clients : though you change your place, you need 
 not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. 
 Courage; there will be pity taken on you: you, that 
 have worn your eyes almost out in the ser* m e, y u 
 will be considered. [withdraw. 
 
 Bawd W hat's to do here, Thomas Tapster ? Let's 
 
 Clo. Here conies siguior Claudio, led by tiie pro- 
 vost to prison ; aiifl tiiere's madam Juliet. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Tlie same. 
 
 Enter Provost, Claudio, Jin^iET, and Officers; 
 Lucio, and two Gentlemen. 
 
 Claud. Fellow, why dost thou sliow me thus to 
 the world ? 
 Bear me to prison, where I am committed. 
 
 Pro. I do it not in evil disposition. 
 But from lord Angelo by special charge. 
 
 Claud. Thus can the denii god. Authority, 
 Make us pay down for our offence by weight. — 
 I'lie words of lieaven ; — on whom it will, it will ; 
 On whom it will not, so; yet still tis just. 
 
 Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence cornea 
 this restraint? 
 
 Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, libertj 
 As surfeit is the father of much fast, 
 8o every scope by the immoderate use 
 Turns to restraint : our natures do pursue, 
 (Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,) 
 A tiiirsty evil ; and wlien we drink, we die. 
 
 Lucio. It I could speak so wiseiy under an arresi 
 I woutd Send {or certain of my creditrrs : and yet, 
 t say the truth, I had as lief have tlie foppery oj 
 freedom, i^s the morality of imprisonment. — Wliat's 
 thy oli'ence, Cluuili' ? 
 
 Claud. What, but to speak of would otfend again. 
 
 Lucio. What is it ? niurder i 
 
 Claud. No. 
 
 Lucio Lechery? 
 
 Claud. Call it so. 
 
 Pr.,v. Away, sir; you must go. 
 
 Claud. One word, good friend : — Lucio, a word 
 with you. {Takes him aside.) 
 
 Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. — 
 Is lechery so look'd after? (contract, 
 
 Claud, 'i'hus stands it with me: — Upon a true 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 73 
 
 I {fot possession of Jiilietta's bed ; 
 
 Yon know tlie lady; she is fast my wife. 
 
 Save (liat we do the deniniciatiuii lack 
 
 Of outward order: tliis we catne not to, 
 
 Only for propagation of a dower 
 
 Ueniaiiiing: in tlie ooffer of her friends ; 
 
 From whom we thonght it meet to hide our love. 
 
 Till time had made them for ns. But it chances, 
 
 The steaitii of our most nmtual entertaiinnent, 
 
 With character loo gross, is writ on Juliet. 
 
 Jjiicio. VV^ith child, perhaps ? 
 
 Claud. Unhappily, even so. 
 And the new deputy now for the duke, — 
 Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness • 
 Or whether that the body public be 
 A horse, where<ja the governor doth ride, 
 Who, newly in the seat, that it may know 
 He can command, lets it straight I'eel the spur : 
 Whether the tyranny be in his place, 
 Or in his eminence that fills it up, 
 I stagger in: — But this new governor 
 Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, [wall 
 
 Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the 
 So long, that nineteen zodiacs have gone roimd, 
 And none of Ihem been worn ; and, tor a name, 
 Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
 Freshly on me : — 'tis surely, lor a name. 
 
 Lucio. I warrant, it is: and thy head stands so 
 tickle on thy shoulders, tiiat a milk-maid, if she be 
 in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and 
 appeal to him. 
 
 Claud. J have done so, but he's not to be found. 
 I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service; 
 This day my sister should the cloister enter, 
 And there receive her approbation : 
 Acquaint her with the danger of my slate; 
 Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends 
 To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him ; 
 I have great hope in ti)at: ibr in her youth 
 There is a prone and speechless dialect. 
 Such as moves men ; beside, she hath prosperous art. 
 When she will play with reason and discourse. 
 And well she can persuade. 
 
 Lucio. I pray, she may • as well for the encou- 
 ragement of the like, which else would stand under 
 grie\ous imposition; as for the enjoying of thy life, 
 who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost 
 at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. 
 
 Claud. 1 thank you, good friend Lucio. 
 
 Lucio. Within two hours, 
 
 Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — A Monastery. 
 Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. 
 
 Duhe. No, holy father; throw away th:it thought ; 
 Believe not, that the dribbling d^irt of love 
 Can pierce a complete bosom : wTiy I desire thee 
 To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose 
 More grave and wrinkled tlinn the aims and ends 
 Of burning youth. 
 
 Fri. May your grace speak of it? 
 
 Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you 
 How 1 have ever lov"d the life remov'd ; 
 And !ield in idle price to haunt assemblies. 
 Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. 
 1 have deliver'd to lord Angelo 
 (A man of stricture, and firm abstinence,) 
 iVJy absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
 And he supposes me travell'd to Poland ; 
 For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, 
 And sii it is receiv'd : now, pious sir. 
 You will demand of me, why I do this? 
 
 Fri. Gladly, my lord. [laws, 
 
 Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting 
 (The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds,) 
 VVhicli (or these fourteen years we have let sleep; 
 Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave. 
 That goi-s not out to prey: now, as f uid fitliers 
 Having buiiud up the threat'ning twigs of birch 
 Only to stick it in their children's sight, 
 
 For terror, not to use ; in time the rod 
 Becomes more moc k'd than fear'd : so our decrees. 
 Dead to inlliction, to themselves are dead ; 
 And liberty plucks justice by the nose ; 
 The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
 CJoes all decorum. 
 
 Fri. It rested in your grace 
 
 To unloose this tied up justice, when you pleas'd: 
 And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd. 
 Than in Lord Angelo. 
 
 Duke. I do iear, too dreadful : 
 
 Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 
 'I'woidd be my tyranny to strike, and gall them 
 For what I bid them do : for we bid this be done. 
 When evil deeds have their permissive pass. 
 And not the punishment, riierefore, indeed, ni 
 I have on Angelo inipos'd the office ; [father 
 
 Who may, in the amliush of my name, strike home, 
 And yet my nature never in the sight. 
 To do it slander: and to behold his sway, 
 1 will, as 'twere a brother of your order. 
 Visit both prince and people : therefore, I pr'ythee. 
 Supply me with the habit, and instruct me 
 How 1 may forma'ly in person bear me 
 Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, 
 At our more leisure shall I render you ; 
 Only, this one : — Lord Angelo is precise ; 
 Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses 
 That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
 Is more to bread than stone : hence shall we see. 
 If power change purpoiie, what our seemers be. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene V. — A I<lunnery. 
 Enter Isabella and Francisca. 
 
 Isah, And have yon nuns no further privileges? 
 
 Fran. Are not these large enough ? 
 
 Isah. \ es, ti Illy : I speak not as desii ing more ; 
 But rather wisliing a more strict restraint 
 Upon the sister-hood, the votarists of saint Clare. 
 
 Lucio. Ho ! Peace be in this place I ( Within.) 
 
 Isab. Wlio's lliat which calls? 
 
 Fran. It is a man's voice* gentle IsabeUa, 
 Turn you the key, and know his business of iiitn; 
 You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn : 
 When you have vow'il, you must not speak will) 
 But in the presence of the prioress: [men. 
 
 Then, if you speak, you must not shew your face; 
 Or, if you shew your face, you must not speak. 
 He calls again ; I pray you answer him. [Exit. 
 
 Isab. Peace and prosperity ! Who ist that calls? 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be ; as those cheek-roses 
 Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me. 
 As bring me to the sight of Isabella, 
 A novice of this place, and the fair sister 
 To her unhappy brother Claudio? 
 
 Isab. Wiiy her unhappy brother? let me ask ; 
 The rather, for I now must male you know 
 I am that Isabella, and his sister, [you: 
 
 Lucio. Gentle and fair, your lirother kindly greets 
 Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. 
 
 Isab. Woe me! For what? 
 
 Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge 
 He should receive his punislimnnt in thanks- 
 He hath got his friend with cliild. 
 
 Isab. Sir, make me not your story. 
 
 Lucio. It is true. 
 
 I would not — though 'tis my familiar sin 
 With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest. 
 Tongue far from heart, — play with all virgins so: 
 I hold you as a thing ensky'd, and sainted ; 
 By your renouncement, an immortal spirit; 
 And to be talk'd with in sincerity, 
 As with a saint. 
 
 Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me 
 
 Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth 
 'tis thus : 
 Your brother and his lover have embrac'd . 
 
74 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 As those that feed grow full ; as blossoraiDg time, 
 'I'lint from the seedness the bare fallow brings 
 To teeming foison ; even so her plenteous womb 
 Expresseth his fdl tilth and husbandry. 
 
 isab. Some one with child by him?— My cousin 
 Juliet? 
 
 Lucio. Is she your cousin ? [names, 
 
 Isab. Adoptedly ; as sciiool-maids change their 
 J3y vain, thougli apt affection. 
 
 Lucio. She it is. 
 
 /srtZi. O, let him marry her! 
 
 Lucio. This is the point. 
 
 The duke is very strangely gone from hence ; 
 Bore many gentlemen, myself being one. 
 In hand, and hope of action ; but we do learn 
 By those that know the very nerves of state. 
 His givings out were of an infinite distance 
 From his true-meant design. Upon his place. 
 And with full line of his authority. 
 Governs lord Angelo ; a man whose blood 
 fs very snow broth ; one who never feels 
 The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; 
 But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 
 With ijrofits of the mind, study and fast. 
 He (to give fear to use and liberty, 
 Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, 
 As mice by lions), hath pick\l out an act, 
 Under whose heavy sense your brother's life 
 Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; 
 And follows close the rigour of the statute. 
 To make him an examiile: all hope is gone. 
 Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer 
 To soften Angelo: and that's my pith 
 Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother. 
 
 Isab. Doth he so seek his life ? 
 
 Lucio. Has censur'd him 
 
 Already ; and, as 1 hear, the provost hath 
 A warrant tor his execution. 
 
 Isab. Alas ! what poor ability's in me 
 To do him good ? 
 
 Lucio. Assay the power you have. 
 
 Isab. My power! Alas I I doubt, — 
 
 Lucio. Our doubts are traitors. 
 
 And make us lose the good we oi't might win. 
 By fearing to attempt : go to lord Angelo, 
 And let him learn to know, when maidens sue. 
 Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, 
 All their petitions are as freely theirs 
 As they themselves would owe them. 
 
 Isab. rU see what I can do. 
 
 Lucio. But; speedily. 
 
 Isab. I will about it straight; 
 No longer staying but to give the mother 
 Notice of iny alfair. I humbly thank you : 
 Commend me to my brother : soon r.t ni;;ht 
 I'll send him certain word of my success. 
 
 Lucio. I take my leave of you. 
 
 Isab. Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall in Ajigeh's house. 
 
 Enter Angelo, Escalus, a Justice. Provost, 
 Officers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Ang. We must not make a scare-crow of the law, 
 Setting it up to fr-ar (he birds of prey. 
 And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
 Their perch, and not their terror. 
 
 Escal. Ay, but yet 
 
 Let us be keen, and rather cut a little. 
 Than fall, and bruise to death: alas! this gentleman. 
 Whom I would save, had a most noble father. 
 Let but your honour know, 
 (Whom 1 believe to be most strait in virtue,) 
 That, in the working of your own affections, 
 Had time coher'd with place, or place witli wishing, 
 Or that the resolute acting of yi'nr blood 
 Could have attain'd the effect of yonr own purpose, 
 \V hether you had not, sometimt- in your life, 
 Err'd in tliis point which now you censure him. 
 
 And puU'd the law iipoi yon. 
 
 Ang. 'I'is one thing to be tempted, Escains 
 Another thing to fall. I not deny. 
 The jury, passing on the piisoner's life. 
 May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 
 Guiltier than him they try : what's open made to 
 
 justice. 
 That justice seizes. What know the laws. 
 That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very preg- 
 nant. 
 The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it. 
 Because we see it ; but what we do not see. 
 We tread upon, and never think of it. 
 Vou may not so extenuate his offence, 
 For I have had snch faults; but rather tell me 
 When I, that censure him, do so offend. 
 Let mine own judgment pattern out my death. 
 And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 
 
 Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. 
 
 Ang. Where is the provost ? 
 
 Prov. Here, if it like your honour. 
 
 Ang. See that Claudio 
 
 Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: 
 Bring him his confessor, let him be piepar'd ; 
 For that's the utmost ot^his pilgrimage. 
 
 [Exit Provost. 
 
 Escal, Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us 
 Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : [all ! 
 
 Some run from brakes of vice, and answer none ; 
 And some condemned for a fault alone. 
 
 Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, §fc. 
 
 Elb. Come, bring them away : if these be good 
 people in a common-weal, that do nothing but nse 
 tlieir abuses in common houses, I know no law; 
 bring them away. 
 
 Ang. How now, sir! What's your name? and 
 what's (he matter i 
 
 Elb. If it please your honour, 1 am the poor duke's 
 constable, and my name is Elbow ; I do lean upon 
 justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good 
 honour two notorious benefactors. 
 
 Ang. Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are 
 they ? are they net malefactors ? 
 
 Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well 
 what they are : but precise villains they are, that I 
 am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world, 
 that good christians ought to have. 
 
 Escal. This comes off well ; here's a wise officer. 
 
 Ang. Go to : what quality are they of? Elbow is 
 your name ? Why dost thou not speak. Elbow ? 
 
 Clo. He cannot, sir ; he's out at elbow. 
 
 Ang. What are you, sir? 
 
 Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one 
 that serves a bad woman ; whose house, sir, was, as 
 they say, pluck'd down in the suburbs; and now she 
 professes a hothouse, which, I think, is a very ill 
 house too. 
 
 Escal. How know you that ? 
 
 Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven 
 and \our honour, — 
 
 Escal How ! thy wife ? 
 
 Elb. Ay sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest 
 woman, — 
 
 Escal. Dost thon detest her therefore ? 
 
 Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well 
 as slie, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, 
 it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. 
 
 Escal. How dost thou know that, constable ? 
 
 Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had 
 been a woman cardinally given, might have been 
 accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanli- 
 ness there. 
 
 Escal. By the woman's means ? ^ 
 
 Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone s means: but ' 
 as she spit in his lace, so slie defied him. 
 
 Clo. Sir, if it [ilease your honour, this it not so. 
 
 Elb. Prove it before these varlels here, thou ho- 
 nourable man,pro\e it. 
 
 Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces? [To Angela,] ' 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 75 
 
 Clo. Sir, she came in great with cliild ; and loner- 
 mg ( saving your honour's reverence ) for stevv'd 
 prunes ; sir, we had but two in the house, which at 
 that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit- 
 disli, a dish of some three-pence ; your honours have 
 seen such dishes ; they are not China dishes, but 
 1 ery good dishes. 
 
 Escal. Go to, go to ; no matter for the dish, sir. 
 
 Clo. No indeed, sir, not of a pin ; you are therein 
 in the right: but, to the point: as I say, this mistress 
 Elbow, being, as 1 say, with child, and being great 
 belly'd, and longing, as I said, for prunes ; and 
 having but two in the dish, as I said, master Froth 
 here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, 
 and, as I say, paying for them very honestly ; — for, 
 as you know, master Froth, I could not give you 
 three-pence again. 
 
 Froth. No, indeed. 
 
 Clo. Very well : you being then, if you be remem- 
 ber'd, cracking the stones of the foresaid primes. 
 
 Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed. 
 
 Clo. Why, very well • I telling you then, if you be 
 remeniber'd, that such a one, and such a one, were 
 past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept 
 very good diet, as I told you. 
 
 Froth. All this is true. 
 
 Clo. Why, very well then. 
 
 Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool : to the pur- 
 pose. — What was done to Elbow's wife, that he 
 hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was 
 done to her. 
 
 Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. 
 
 Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. 
 
 Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your ho- 
 notw's leave : and, I bi'seech you, look into master 
 Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; 
 whose fatlier died at Hallowmas: — Was't not at 
 Hallowmas, master Froth? 
 
 Froth. All-hollond eve. 
 
 Clo. Why. very well ; I hope here be truths : he, 
 sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir ; — 'twas in 
 the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a 
 deli»ht to sit: have you not? 
 
 Froth. I have so ; because it is an open room, 
 and good for winter. 
 
 Clo. Why, V ery well then ; — I hope here be truths. 
 
 Ang. Tins will last out a night in Russia, 
 When nights are longest there : I'll take my leave. 
 And leave you to the hearing of the cause; 
 Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them all. 
 
 Escal. I think no less: good morrow to your 
 lordship. {Exit Ancjelo. 
 
 Now, sir, come on : what was done to Elbow's wife, 
 once more ? 
 
 Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. 
 
 Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man 
 did to my wife. 
 
 Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. 
 
 Escal. Well, sir : what did this gentleman to her ? 
 
 Clo. 1 beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's 
 face : — Good master Froth, look upou his honour ; 
 'tis for a good purpose : doth your honour mark his 
 
 Escal. Ay, sir, very well. [face? 
 
 Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. 
 
 Escal. \V ell, I do so. 
 
 Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in his face ? 
 
 Escal. Why, no. 
 
 Clo. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the 
 worst tiling about him: good then; if his face be 
 (lie worst thing about him, how could master Froth 
 do tl];^ constable's wife any harm? J would know 
 that i)f your honour. [to it? 
 
 Escal, He's in the right : constable, what say you 
 
 E16. First^an it like you, tlie house is a respected 
 housf ; next, this is a respected fellow; and his 
 inistrf.ss is a respected woman. 
 
 Clo. }Jy this hand, .sir, his wife is a more re- 
 spected person than any of us all. 
 
 Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet: 
 
 the time is yet to come, that she was ever respecte 
 with man, woman, or child. 
 
 Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before he 
 raariied with her. 
 
 Escal. Which is the wiser here ? justice, or ini- 
 quity ? — Is this true ? 
 
 Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet ! O thou wicked 
 Hannibal ! I respected with her, before I was mar- 
 ried to her ! If ever I was respected with her, or she 
 with me, let not your worship think me the poor 
 duke's ofiicer : — Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, 
 or I'll have mine action of battery on thee. 
 
 Escal. If he took you a box o' th' ear, you mighj 
 have your action of slander too. 
 
 Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it : 
 what is't your worship's pleasure I should do with 
 this wicked caitiff"? 
 
 Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some of- 
 fences in him, that thou wouldst discover if thou 
 couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou 
 know'st what they are. 
 
 Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it:-r-Thoa 
 see'st, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon 
 thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou 
 art to continue. 
 
 Escal. Where were you born, friend ? {ToFrot/t.} 
 
 Froth. Here in Vienna, sir. 
 
 Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a-year? 
 
 Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir. 
 
 Escal. So. — What trade are you of. sir ? 
 
 [To the Claum.) 
 
 Clo. A tapster ; a poor widow's tapster. 
 
 Escal. Your mistress's name ? 
 
 Clo. Mistress Over-done. 
 
 Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband ? 
 
 Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last. 
 
 Escal. Nine ! — Come hither to me, master Froth. 
 Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with 
 tapsters ; they will draw you, master Froth, and yon 
 will hang them: get you gone, and let me hear no 
 more of you. 
 
 Froth. I thank your worship : for mine own part, 
 I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am 
 drawn in. 
 
 Escal. Well ; no more of it, master Froth , fare- 
 well. [Exit Froth.} — Come you hither to me, master 
 tapster ; what's your mme, master tapster? 
 
 Clo. Poinpey. 
 
 Escal. What else ? 
 
 Clo. Bum, sir. 
 
 Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing 
 about you ; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are 
 Pompey the great. Pompey,you are partly a bawd, 
 Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster. 
 Are you not ? come, tell me true ; it shall be the 
 better for you. 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would live. 
 
 Escal. How would you live, Pompey? by being a 
 bawd? What do you think of the traae, Pompey ? 
 is it a lawful tracle ? 
 
 Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. 
 
 Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; 
 nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. 
 
 Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spaj 
 all the youths in the city '? 
 
 Escal. No, Poinpey. 
 
 Clo. Truly, sir, m my poor opinion, they will to't 
 then : if your worship will take order for the draba 
 and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. 
 
 Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, 1 can 
 tell you : it is but heading and hanging. 
 
 Clo. .If you head and hang all that oflfeud that 
 way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give 
 out a coiuuiission for more heads. If this law hold 
 in Vieima ten years, I'll rent the fairest house in it, 
 after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this come 
 to pass, say Pompey told you so. 
 
 Escal. 'I'liaiik you, good Pompey ; and, in requital 
 of \our projihecy, hark you, — i advise you. let rne 
 not find you beiore me again upon any complaint 
 
re 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 vi'balsoever, no, not for dwelling where you do : if I 
 do, Ponipey, I siiall beat you to your tent, and prove 
 a shrewd Caesar to you ; in plain dealinif, Poinpey, I 
 shall have you whipt: so (or this time, Pompey, fare 
 you well. \ 
 
 Clo. I thank your worship for your good counsel : 
 but 1 shall follow it, as the llesh and fortune shall 
 better determine. 
 
 Whip me ? No, no ; let carman whip his jade ; 
 The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. [Exit. 
 
 Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow; come 
 hither, master constable. How long have you been 
 in this place of constable ? 
 
 Elb. Seven years and a half, sir. 
 
 Enccd. I thought, by your readiness in the office, 
 you had continued in it some time : you say, seven 
 years together ? 
 
 Elh. And a half, sir. 
 
 Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! 
 They do you wrong to put you so oft npon't ; are 
 there not men in your ward suliicientto 8erv<;'it? 
 
 Elh. Faith, sir, few of any wit io such matters: 
 as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for 
 tliem; I do it for some piece of money, and go 
 tlwDugli with all. 
 
 Escal. Look you, bring me in the name of some 
 six or seven, the most sutHrient of your parish. 
 
 Elb. To your worship's house, sir ? 
 
 Fiscal. To my house : fare you well. [Exit Elboiv. 
 'VhMt's o'clock, think you ? 
 
 Just. Eleven, sir. 
 
 Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me. 
 
 Just. I humbly thank you. 
 
 Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; 
 But there's no remedy. 
 
 Just. Lord Angelo is severe. 
 
 Escal, Tt is but needful : 
 
 Mercy is not itself, that oft look* so; 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second woe : 
 But yet, — poor Claudio! — There's no remedy. 
 Corae, sir. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Provost and a Servant. 
 
 Ser. He's hearing of a cause ; he will come 
 I'll tell lii;nofyou. [straight. 
 
 I'rov, Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.^ I'll know 
 His pleasure : may be, he will relent : alas. 
 He hath hut as oli'ended in a dreans! 
 All sects, all ages, smack of this \ice ; and he 
 To die for it !— 
 
 Enter Ancelo. 
 
 Anj. Now, what's the matter, provost? 
 
 Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ? 
 
 Atif/. Did 1 not tell thee, yea ? hadst thou not 
 Why (lost thou ask again ? [order ? 
 
 Prov. . Lest I might be too rash : 
 
 Under your good correction, I have seen. 
 When, alter execution, judgment hath 
 Repented o'er his doom. 
 
 Anij. fJo to; let that be mine : 
 
 Do you your office, or give up your place. 
 And you shall well be spar'd. 
 
 Prov. I cra» e your honour's pardon. — 
 
 What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? 
 She's very near her hour. 
 
 Ang. Dispose of her 
 
 To some more fitter place ; and that with speed. 
 
 Re-enter Servant. 
 Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd. 
 Desires access to you. 
 
 Ang. Hath he a sister ? 
 
 Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very \ irtuous maid, 
 And to be shortly of a sisterhood, 
 ' If not already. 
 
 Ang. Well, let her be admitted. 
 
 \Exit Servant. 
 See you the fornicatress be remov'd ; 
 
 Let her have needful, but not la\ish, means: 
 There shall be order for it. 
 
 Enter Lucio ajid Isabella. 
 
 Prov. Save your honour ! {Offering to retire.] 
 
 Ang. Stay a little while. — [To Isab.) You are 
 welcome : what's your will ? 
 
 Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, 
 Please but your honour hear me. 
 
 Ang. Well ; what's your suit? 
 
 Ltab. There is a vice, that most I do abiior. 
 And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; 
 For which I would not plead, but that I must; 
 For which I must not plead, but that 1 am 
 At war, 'twixt will, and will not. 
 
 Ang. Well ; the matter ? ^ 
 
 Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: 
 I do beseech you, let it be his fault. 
 And not my brother. 
 
 Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces ! 
 
 Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it ! 
 Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done : 
 Mine were the very cypher of a function. 
 To find the faults, whose tine stands in record. 
 And let go by the actor. 
 
 Isab. O just, but severe law ! 
 
 I had a brother then. — Heaven keep your honour I 
 
 {Retirinrj.) 
 
 Lucio. [To Isab.) Giv't not o'er so : to him again 
 intreat him ; 
 Kneel do\j'n before him, han^ upon his gown ; 
 Vou are too cold : if you should need a pin, 
 You could not with more tame a tongue desire it 
 To him, I say. 
 
 Isab. Must he needs die ? 
 
 Ang. Maiden, no remedy 
 
 Isab. Yes ; I do think that you might pardon him. 
 And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the luercv. 
 
 A7rg. I will not do't. 
 
 Isab. But can you if you would ? 
 
 Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. 
 
 Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no 
 wrong, 
 If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse 
 As mine is to him ? 
 
 Ang. He's sentenc'd ; 'tis too late 
 
 Iiucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella.) 
 
 Isab. Too late ? why, no ; I, that do speak a word, 
 May call it back again : well believe this. 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
 Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword. 
 The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe. 
 Become them with one half so good a grace, 
 As mercy docs. If he had been as you 
 And you as he, you would have slipt like him; 
 But lie like you, would not have been so stern. 
 
 Ang. Pray you, begone. 
 
 Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency. 
 And you were Isabel ! would it then be thus ? 
 No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge. 
 And what a prisoner. 
 
 Lucio. Ay, touch him : there's the vein. [Aside.'^ 
 
 Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law. 
 And you but waste your words. 
 
 Isab. Alas ! alas ! 
 
 Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; 
 And He, that might the vantage best have took, 
 Found out tlie remedy. How would yon be. 
 If he, which is the top of judgment, should 
 But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; 
 And mercy then will breathe within your lips • 
 Like man new made. 
 
 Ang. Be you content, fair maid , 
 
 It is the law, not I, condemns your brother : 
 Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, 
 It should be thus with him; — he must die to- 
 morrow; (sjiare him : 
 
 /s« J. To-morrow? O, that's sudden ! Spare him. 
 He s not prepard for death ! Even for our kitchens 
 We kill the fowl of season ; shall we serve htaveu 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 77 
 
 With less respect than we do minister 
 To our gross selves ? (iood, good my lord, bethink 
 Wiio is it that hath died for tliis offence ? [you : 
 
 There's many have committed it. 
 
 Lucia. Ay, well said. 
 
 A/Iff. The law hath -not been dead, though it hath 
 Tliose many had not dar'd to do that evil, f slept : 
 If the first man, that did the edict infringe, 
 Mad answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake; 
 i'akes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, 
 ijooks ill a glass, that shows what future evils, 
 (Eitlier now, or by remissness nevv-conceiv'd, 
 .\nd so in progress to be hatch'd and boru,) 
 Aie now to have no successive degrees. 
 But, where they live, to end. 
 
 Isai>. Yet, show some pity. 
 
 Any. I show it most of all, when I show justice ; 
 For tlien I pity those I douofrknow, 
 Which a disniiss'd ofience would after gall; 
 And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong. 
 Lives not to act another. Be satisfied ; 
 Your brother dies to-morrow: be content. 
 
 Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this sen- 
 tence ; 
 And he that sutfers : O, it is excellent 
 To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
 To use it like a giant 
 
 Idiicio. That's well said. 
 
 Isab. Could great men thunder 
 As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet. 
 For every pelting, petty officer, 
 W^ould use his heaven for thunder : nothing but 
 
 Merciful heaven ! [thunder. 
 
 Tiiou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 
 Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, 
 'I'nan the soft myrtle ; — O, but man, proud man ! 
 Drest in a little brief authority ; 
 Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd. 
 His glassy essence, — like an angry ape. 
 Flays sucii fantastic tricks before high heaven. 
 As make tiie angels weep ; who, with our spleens. 
 Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
 
 Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench : he will relent; 
 He's coining, I perceive 't. 
 
 Prov. Pray heaven, she win him ! 
 
 Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: 
 (Jreat men may jest with saints : 'tis wit in them ; 
 But, in the less, foul profanation. 
 
 Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl ; more o' that. 
 
 Lsub. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, 
 W'hich in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 
 
 Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't. 
 
 Anij. Why do you put these sayings upon me ? 
 
 Isab. Because authority, though it err like others, 
 Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself. 
 That skins the vice o' the top : go to your bosom ; 
 Knock there ; and ask your heart, what it doth know 
 ''J'liat's like my brother's fault: if it confess 
 A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
 Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
 Against my brother's life. 
 
 An(j. She speaks, and 'tis 
 
 Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. — Fare you 
 
 Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. [well. 
 
 Atkj. I will bethink me: — Come again to-morrow. 
 
 Isab. Hark ! how I'll bribe you: good my lord, 
 
 An;/. How! bribe me? Lturn back. 
 
 Itnb. Ay, with such gifts, that ht aven shall share 
 with you. 
 
 Lttcio. ^ ou had marr'd all else. 
 
 Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold. 
 Or stones, wliose rates are either rich, or poor. 
 As fancy -. nlucs them : but with true prayers, 
 'i'liMt shall Ue up at heaven, and enter there, 
 lire sun rist^ : prayers from preserved souls, 
 FioMi fastiiij'- maids, whose minds are dedicate 
 To iiotiiiiig temporal. 
 
 Aug. Well : come to me 
 
 To umnow. 
 
 Lucio. iU> to ; it is well ; away. {Aside tolsabel.^ 
 
 Isab. Heaven keep your hooo.-.T safe \ 
 
 Any. Anicn ; for 1 
 
 Am that way going to temptation, {Aside.) 
 
 Where prayers cro.ss. 
 
 Isab. At what hour to-morrow 
 
 Shall I attend your worship? 
 
 Artg. At any time 'fore noon. 
 
 Isab. Save your honour ! 
 
 [Exeunt L?ccio, Isabella, and Provost. 
 
 Ang. From thee ; even from thy virtue '. — 
 
 Wliafs this ? what's this ? Is this her fault, or mine ? 
 The tempter, or the Innipted, who sins most ? >ia ! 
 Not she ; nor doth she tempt : but it is I, 
 That lying by the violet, in the sun. 
 Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
 Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, 
 'I'hat modesty may more betray our sense 
 Than woman's lightness? Having vvasle grouna 
 Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, [enough. 
 
 And pitch our evils there? O, fy, fy, fy ! 
 What dost thou ? or what art thou, Aiigelo ? 
 Dost thou desire her foully, for those things 
 That make her good ? O, let her brother live ; 
 Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
 When judges steal themselves. What? do I love 
 That I desire to hear her speak again, [her. 
 
 And feast upon her eyes ? What is"t I dream on ? 
 
 cunning enemy, that to catch a saint, 
 
 With* saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
 Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 
 To sin in loving virtue ; never could the strumpet. 
 With all her double vigour, art and nature. 
 Once stir my temper : but this virtuous maid 
 Subdues me quite : — Ever, till now, 
 When men were fond, I sinil'd, and wonder'd bow. 
 
 [Exit 
 Scene III. — A Room in a Prison. 
 Enter Duke, habited like a Friar, and Provost. 
 Duke. Hail to you. Provost ! so I think yuu are. 
 Prov. I aui the provost: what's your will, good 
 
 friar ? 
 Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order, 
 
 1 come to visit the afflicted spirits 
 
 Here in the prison : do me the common right 
 'J'o let me see them ; and to make nie know 
 The nature of their crimes, that 1 may minister 
 To them accordingly. [needful. 
 
 Prov. I would do more than that, if more were 
 £«/er Juliet. 
 Look, here comes one ; a gentlewoman of mine. 
 Who, falling in the flames of her own youth, 
 Hath blister'd her report ; she is with child ; 
 And he, that got it, sentenc'd ; a young man 
 More fit to do another such offence. 
 Than die for this. 
 
 Duke. When must he die ? 
 
 Pro. As I do think, to morrow. — 
 I have provided for you ; stay a while, {To Juliet.) 
 And you shall be conducted, 
 
 Duke. Bepent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? 
 
 Juliet. I do ; and bear the shame most patiently. 
 
 Duke. Ill ter.ch you how you shall arraign your 
 conscience. 
 And try your penitence if it be sound. 
 Or hollowly put on. 
 
 Juliet. I'll gladly learn. 
 
 Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you ? 
 
 Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. 
 
 Duke. So. then, it seems, your most offeuceful act 
 Was mutually committed? 
 
 Juliet. Mutually. 
 
 Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. 
 
 Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter : but lest you do 
 repent. 
 As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, — 
 Which sorrovv is always toward ourselves, not 
 
 heaven .; 
 Showing, we'd not spare heaven, as vif love it. 
 
■7S 
 
 MEx\SURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 Uiit as we stand in fear, — 
 
 J:iliet. I do rei)ent me, as it is an e\ 11 ; 
 And take tlie slianie with joy. 
 
 Duke There rest. 
 
 Your partner, as I hear, must die to moirow, 
 And 1 am going with instruction to hiin. — 
 CJrace go with yon ! Be?iedici(e ! [Exit. 
 
 Juliet. Must die to-morrow ! O injurious love, 
 That respites me a lii'e, whose very comfort 
 Is still a dying horror! 
 
 Prov. 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Aiujelo's house. 
 Enter Angelo. 
 Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and 
 pray 
 To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ; 
 Whilst my invention, hearing not my ton;nie, 
 Anchors on Isahel : heaven in my mouth. 
 As if 1 did hut only chew his name ; 
 And in my heart, tlie strong and swelling evil 
 Of my conception: the state whereon I studied^ 
 Is like a good thing, being often read, 
 Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity, 
 Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
 Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume. 
 Which the air beats for vain. O place ! O form ! 
 How often dost thou with tliy case, thy habit, 
 Wrench awe from fools, and tie tlie wiser souls 
 'Jo thy false seeming ? Blood, thou still art blood : 
 Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 
 "fis not the devil's crest. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 How now, who's tliere ? 
 
 Serv. One Isabel, a sister, 
 
 Desires access to you. 
 
 Ang. Teach her the way. [Exit Serv. 
 
 O heavens ! 
 
 Wliy does my blood thus muster to my heart; 
 Making both it unable for itself. 
 And dispossessing all tiie other parts 
 Of necessary fitness ? 
 
 So play the toolish throngs with one that swoons; 
 Come all to help him, and so sto[) the air 
 Uy which he should revive : and even so 
 Tlie general, subject to a well-vvish'd king, 
 Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness 
 Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love 
 Must needs appear ofi'ence. — 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 How now, fair maid ? 
 
 I.<iab. I am come to know yonr pleasure. 
 
 Ang, That you might know it, would much better 
 please me, 
 Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. 
 
 Isab. Even so? — Heaven keep your honour ! 
 
 [Retiring. 
 
 Ang. Yet may he live a while ; and, it may be, 
 As long as you, or I : yet he must die. 
 
 Isab. Under your sentence"' 
 
 Ang. Yea. 
 
 Isab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve. 
 Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, 
 That his sold sicken not. 
 
 Ang. Ha ! Fy, these filthy vices! It were as good 
 To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
 A man already made, as to remit 
 Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image. 
 In stamps that nre forbid: 'tis all as easy 
 Falsely to take away a life true made. 
 As to put mettle in restrained means, 
 To make a false one. 
 
 Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. 
 
 Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly. 
 Which had you rather. That the most just law 
 Now took your brother's life ; or, to redeem him, 
 Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness. 
 As she that he hath stain'd ? 
 
 Isab. Sir, believe this. 
 
 I had rather give my body than my soul. 
 
 Ang. 1 talk not of your soul ; our compcll'd sins 
 Stand more for number than accoiript. 
 
 Isab. How say you? 
 
 Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak 
 Against the thing I say. Answer to this ; — 
 I, now the voice of the recorded law. 
 Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life; 
 Might there not be a charity in sin. 
 To save this brother's life ? 
 
 Isab. Please you to do't. 
 
 I'll take it as a peril to my soul. 
 It is no sin at all, but charity. 
 
 Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul- 
 Were equal poize of sin and charity. 
 
 Isab. That I do bej? his life, if it be sin, 
 Heaven, let me bear it ! you granting of my suit, 
 If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer 
 To have it added to the faults of mine. 
 And nothing of your answer. 
 
 Ang. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant 
 Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. 
 
 Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good. 
 But graciously to know I am no better. 
 
 Ang. Thuswisdoiii wishes to appear most bright, 
 When it doth tax itself: as those black masks 
 Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder 
 Than beauty could displayed. — But mark me ; 
 To be received plain, I'll speak more gross : 
 Your brother is to die. 
 
 Isab. So. 
 
 Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears 
 Accountant to tlie law upon that pain. 
 
 Isab. True. 
 
 Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, 
 (As I subscribe not that, nor any other. 
 But in tlie loss of question,) that you. his sister, 
 Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, 
 Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, 
 Could fetch your brother from the manacles 
 Of the all-binding law; and that tliere were 
 No earthly mean to save him, but that either 
 You must lay down the treasures of your body 
 To this supposed, or else let him sutler; 
 What would you do ? 
 
 Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: 
 That is, were I under the terms of death. 
 The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies. 
 And strip myself to death, as to a bed 
 That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield 
 My body up to shame. 
 
 Ang. Then must your brother die. 
 
 Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way: 
 Better it were, a brother died at once. 
 Than that a sister, by redeeming him. 
 Should die for ever. 
 
 Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence. 
 That you have slander'd so ? 
 
 Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, 
 .Are of two houses: lawful mercy is 
 Nothing a-kin to foul redemption. 
 
 Ang. You seein'd of late to make the law a tyrant , 
 And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother 
 A merriment than a vice. 
 
 Isab. O, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out. 
 To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean : 
 I something do excuse the thing I hate. 
 For his advantage, that I dearly love. 
 
 Ang. We are all frail. 
 
 Isab. Else let my brother die, 
 
 If not a feodary, but only he. 
 Owe, and succeed by weakness. 
 
 Ang. Nay, women are frail too. 
 
 Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they v iew them- 
 selves; 
 Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
 Women ! — Help heaven ! men their creation mar 
 In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; 
 For we are soft as our complexions are. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 79 
 
 And credulous to false prints. 
 
 Ana. I think it well : 
 
 And Ironi this testimony of your own sex, 
 (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stroncfer 
 Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold ; — 
 I do arrest your words ; be that you are, 
 That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none ; 
 ff you be one, (as you are well express'd 
 By all external warrants,) show it now. 
 By piittinij on the destin a livery. 
 
 Isab. I have no tonffue but one : gentle my lord. 
 Let me intreat you speak the former language. 
 
 Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. 
 
 Isai). My brother did love Juliet ; and you tell me. 
 That he shall die ibr it. 
 
 Atiff. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. 
 
 Isab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't. 
 Which seems a little fouler than it is. 
 To pluck on others. 
 
 Any. Belie\ e me, on mine honour, 
 
 My words express my purpose. 
 
 Isab. Ha ! little honour to be much belie v'd. 
 And most pernicious purpose ' — Seeming, seeming ! 
 I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't : 
 Sign me a jireseut pardon for my brother. 
 Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world 
 Aloud, what man thou art. 
 
 Anj. Who will believe thee, Isabel? 
 
 My nnsoil'd name, the austeroness of my life. 
 My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, 
 VVill so your accusation overvveigh. 
 That you shall stifle in your own report. 
 And smell of calumny. I have begun ; 
 And now I give my sensual race the rein : 
 Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; 
 Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes. 
 That banish what they sue for ; redeem thy brother 
 By yielding up thy body to my will ; 
 Or else he must not only die the death. 
 But thy unkindness shall his death diavv out 
 To lingering sufferance : answer me to-morrow. 
 Or, by the affection that now guides me most, 
 I'll prove a tyrant to him • as for you, 
 Say what you can, my false o'erweighs vour true. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this. 
 Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, 
 That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, 
 Either of condemnation or approof! 
 Bidding the law make court'sy to their will ; 
 Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, 
 To follow as it draws I I'll to my brother : 
 Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, 
 Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. 
 That had he twenty heads to tender down 
 On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, 
 Before his sister should her body stoop 
 To such abhorr'd pollution. 
 Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : 
 More than our brother is our chastity. 
 I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, 
 And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. {Exit. 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 Scene I. — A Room in the Prison. 
 Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. 
 
 Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord 
 Angelo? 
 
 Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, 
 But only hope : 
 I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. 
 
 Duke. Be absolute for death ; either death, or life, 
 Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life — 
 If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing 
 That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art, 
 (Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
 That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
 Hourly afflict : merely, thou art death's fool ; 
 
 For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, 
 
 And yet run'st toward him still : thou art not noble 
 
 For all the accommodations that tliou beai'st, 
 
 Are nurs'd by baseness : thou art by no mean.s 
 
 valiant; 
 For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
 Of a poor worm : thy best of rest is sleep. 
 And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly iear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
 For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 
 That issue out of dust: happy thou art not". 
 For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get : 
 And what thou hast, forget'st : thou art not cerfi.in; 
 For thy complexion shifts to strange effects. 
 After the moon: if thoti art rich, thou art poor; 
 For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
 Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. 
 And death unloads thee : friend hast thou none ; 
 For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire. 
 The mere effusion of thy proper loins, 
 Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rjieum. 
 For ending thee no sooner: thou hast nor youth, nor 
 
 age ; 
 But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, 
 Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed youth 
 Becomes as aged, and doth beg tiie alms 
 Of palsied eld ; and when thou art old, and rich. 
 Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty. 
 To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this. 
 That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life 
 Lie hid more thousand deaths : yet death we fear. 
 That makes these odds all even. 
 
 Claud. I humbly thank you. 
 
 To sue to live, I find, I seek to die ; 
 And, seeking death, find life : let it come on. 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 Isab. What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and £oad 
 company ! [a welcome. 
 
 Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves 
 
 Duke. Dear sir, ere long III visit you again. 
 
 Claud. Most holy sir, 1 thank you. 
 
 Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. 
 
 Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's 
 your sister. 
 
 Duke. Provost, a word with«you. 
 
 Prov. As many as you please. 
 
 Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be con- 
 ceal'd. 
 Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. 
 
 Claud. Now, sister, what's the coml'ort? 
 
 Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; most good in deed : 
 Lord Angelo, having aft'airs to heaven. 
 Intends you for his swift ambassador, 
 Where you shall be an everlasting leiger . 
 Therefore your best appointment make with speed: 
 To-morrow you set on. 
 
 Claud. Is there no remedy? 
 
 Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head. 
 To cleave a heart in twain. 
 
 Claud. But is there any ? 
 
 Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ; 
 There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 
 If you'll implore it, that will free your life. 
 But fetter you till death. 
 
 Claud. Perpetual durance? 
 
 Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a restraint, 
 Though all the world's vastidity you had. 
 To a determin'd scope. 
 
 Claud. But in what nature ? 
 
 Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) 
 Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear. 
 And leave you naked. 
 
 Claud. Let me know the point. 
 
 Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake 
 Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, 
 Atid six or seven winters more respect 
 Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? 
 The sense of death is most in apprehension; 
 And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. 
 
80 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Acv i:i. 
 
 in corporal siitlerance finds a pang as great 
 As when a giant dies. 
 
 Claud. Why give you me this shame ? 
 
 Think yon I can a resohition fetch 
 From ilowery tendt-rness? If I must die, 
 I \vill encounter darkness as a bride, 
 And hug it in mine arms. [grave 
 
 Isab. There .spnke my brother; there my father's 
 Did ntter forth a voice ! Yes, tiiou nnist die : 
 Tliou art too nuble to conserve a life 
 [n base appliances. 'Jliis outward-sainted deputy, — 
 Whose settled visafje and deliberate woid 
 Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew, 
 As falcon doth the (owl, — is yet a dewl ; 
 His filth within being cast, he would appear 
 A pond as deep as hell. 
 
 Claud. The princely Angelo? 
 
 Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell. 
 The damned'st body to invest and cover 
 In princely guards ! Dost thou think, Claudio, 
 If I would y\AA him my virginity. 
 Thou might'st be freed? 
 
 Claud. O, heavens ! it cannot be. 
 
 Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank 
 ort'ence, 
 Si) to offend liim still: this night's the time 
 'I'hat I should do what I ablior to name, 
 Or else thou diest to -morrow. 
 
 Claud. Thou shalt not do't. 
 
 Isab. O, were it but my life, 
 5'd throw it down for your deliverance 
 As frankly as a pin. 
 
 Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. 
 
 hab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow. 
 
 Claud. Yes. — H;is he affections in him, 
 Tiiat thus can make hini bite the law by the nose. 
 When he would force it? Sure it is no sin; 
 Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 
 
 Isab. Which is the least? 
 
 Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise. 
 Why, would he for the momentary trick 
 He perdurably tin'd? — O Isabel! 
 
 Isab. What says my brother ? 
 
 Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 
 
 Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 
 
 Claud. Ay, but to d\e, and go we know not where ; 
 To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
 'i'his sensible warm motion to become 
 A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; 
 To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, 
 And blown with restless violence round about 
 The pendent world, or to be worse than worst 
 Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
 Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! 
 The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
 That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
 Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
 To what we fear of death. 
 
 Isab. Alas ! alas .' 
 
 Claud. Sweet sister, let me live : 
 
 What sin you do to save a brother's life. 
 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, 
 That it becomes a virtue. 
 
 Isab. O, you beast ! 
 
 O, faithless coward ! O, dishonest wretch ! 
 Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? 
 Is"t not a kind of incest, to take life [think? 
 
 From thine own sister's shame ? What should I 
 Heaxen shield, my mother play'd my father fair! 
 For such a warped slip of wilderness 
 Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiiiice ! 
 Die ; perish ! might but my bending down 
 Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed : 
 I'll pray a thous;md prayers for thy death. 
 No word to save thee. 
 
 Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. 
 
 Isab. O, fy, fy, fy ! 
 
 Thy sin's ait accidental, but a trade : 
 
 Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd : 
 'Tis best that thou diest quickly- [Going,') 
 
 Claud. O hear me, Isabella. 
 
 Re-enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one 
 
 Isab, What is your will ? [word. 
 
 Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I 
 would by and by have some speecii with you : the 
 satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own 
 benefit. 
 
 Isab. I have no superfluous leisure : my stay must 
 be stolen out of other affairs ; but I will attend you a 
 while. 
 
 Duke. {To Claudio, aside.) Son, I have over- 
 heard what hath past between you and your sister. 
 Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only 
 he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise his 
 judgment with the disposition of natures; sl)e, having 
 the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gra- 
 cious denial, which he is most glad to recei\e : 1 am 
 confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true ; 
 therefore prepare yourself to death : do not satisfy 
 your resolution with hopes that are fallible : to- 
 morrow you must die ; go to youi knees, and make 
 ready. 
 
 Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out 
 of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. 
 
 Duke. Hold you there : farewell. [Exit Claudio. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Provost, a word with you. 
 
 Prov. What's your will, father? 
 
 Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone • 
 leave me aw hile with the maid ; my mind promises 
 with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company. 
 
 Prov. In good time. \Exit Provost. 
 
 Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, hath 
 made you good : the goodness, that is cheap in 
 beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, 
 being the soul of your complexion, should keep the 
 body of it ever fair. The assault, that Angelo hath 
 made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my under- 
 standing: and, but that frailty hath examples for his 
 falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would you 
 do to content this substitute, and to save your brother ? 
 
 Isab. I am now going to resolve him : I had ra- 
 ther my brother die by the law, than my son should 
 be imlawfully born. But O, how miich is the good 
 duke decei\ed in Angelo! If ever he return, and I 
 can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or 
 discover his government. 
 
 Duke. That shall not be much amiss : yet, as the 
 matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; 
 he made trial of you only. — Therefore, fasten your 
 ear on my advisings; to the love I have iu doing 
 good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself 
 believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor 
 wronsed lady a merited benefit; redeem your bro- 
 ther from the angry law; do no stain to your own 
 gracious person; and much please the absent duke, 
 if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hear- 
 ing of this biisines. 
 
 Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have 
 spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the 
 truth of my spirit. 
 
 Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fear- 
 ful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister 
 of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at 
 sea? 
 
 Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words 
 went with her name. 
 
 Duke. Her should this Angelo have married ; was 
 affiiinced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed, 
 between which tmie of the contract, and limit of 
 the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wr^-cked 
 at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the d iWry ol 
 his sister. But mark, how heavily this bel'el to the 
 poor gentlewoman* there she lost a uoble and re- 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 81 
 
 nowned brntlier, in his Inve towarrl her ever most 
 kind and naturnl ; with hini the portion and sinew of 
 her tortiine, her niarriage-chnvry ; witli both, lier 
 conibinale husband, this well-seeming Aiigelo. 
 
 Isab. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? 
 
 Duke. Lett her in her tears, and dry"d not one of 
 them with his comfort; swallowed l\is vows wliole, 
 pretending in her discoveries of dishonour : in lew, 
 bestowed lieron her own lamentation, which slie yet 
 wears for his sake ; and he, a marble to her tears, is 
 washed with them, bnt relents not. 
 
 Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this 
 
 floor maid from the world ! What corruption in this 
 ife, that it will let this man live ! — But how out of 
 this can she avail ? 
 
 Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal : 
 niid the cure of it not only saves your brother, but 
 keeps you from dishonour in doing it. 
 
 Isab. Show me how, good father. 
 
 Duke. This lore named maid hath yet in her the 
 continuance of her tirst aflection ; liis unjust unkind- 
 ness, that in all reason should have quenched her 
 love, hath, like an impedimeni in the current, made 
 it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; an- 
 swer his requiring with a plausible obedience ; agree 
 with his demands to the point ; only refer yourself to 
 this advantage, — first, that your stay with him may 
 not be long; that the time may ha\e all shadow and 
 silence in it, and the place answer to convenience: 
 this being granted in course, now follows all. We 
 shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your 
 appointment, go in your place ; if the encounter 
 acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel hmi to 
 her recompense : and here, by this, is your brother 
 saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana 
 advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The 
 maid will I frame, and make tit for his attempt. If 
 you think well to carry this as you may, the double- 
 ness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. 
 What think you of it? 
 
 Isab. The image of it gives me content already ; 
 and, I trust, it wiil grow to a most prosperous per- 
 fection. 
 
 Duke. It lies mncli in your holding up: haste you 
 speedily (o Angelo ; if for this night he entreat you 
 to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will 
 presently to St. Luke's ; there, at the moated grange, 
 resides this dejected Mariana : at that place call 
 upon me ; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be 
 quickly. 
 
 Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well, 
 good father. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene II. — The Street before the Prison. 
 
 Enter Duke, as a Friar; to him Elbow, Clown, 
 and Officers. 
 
 Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that 
 ^ou will needs buy and sell men and women like 
 beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and 
 vvhite bastard. 
 
 Duke. O, heavens ! what stuff is here ! 
 
 CVo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usur- 
 ies, the merriest was put down, and the worser 
 allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him 
 warm; and furr'd with fox and lambskins too, to 
 signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands 
 for the facing. (friar. 
 
 Elb. Come your way, sir. — Bless you. good father 
 
 Duke. And you, good brother father; what 
 offence hath this man made yoii, sir? 
 
 Elb. Marry, sir, he hath otfr-niied the law; and, 
 sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have 
 found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we 
 have sent to the deputy. 
 
 Duke. Fy, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd ! 
 The evil that thou cansest to be done. 
 That is thy means to live : do thou but think 
 What tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back. 
 From such a filthy vice ; say to thyself, — 
 m their abominable and beastly touches 
 
 I drink, I eat, array myself, and Kve. 
 Canst tiiou believe thy living is a life, 
 So stinkingly depending? (Jo, mend, go, mend. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some soit, sir; but 
 yet, sir, 1 would prove [for sin, 
 
 Duke. Nay, it the devil have given thee proofs 
 Thou wilt jirove his. Take him to prison, ollicer. 
 Correction and instruction must both work , 
 Ere this rude beast will profit. 
 
 Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given 
 him warning : the deputy cannot abide a whore- 
 master; if lie be a whoremonger and comes before hin;, 
 he were as good go a mile on his errand. 
 
 Duke. Tliat we were all, as some would seem to be, 
 Free fiom our laults, as faults from seeming, free .' 
 
 tinier Lucio. 
 
 Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. 
 
 Clo. I s]>y comtb. t ; I cry , bail : here's a gentle- 
 man, and a friend of niiiie. 
 
 Lucio. How now, noble Pornpey ? What, at the 
 heels of Cai-sar? Art thou led in triumph? What, 
 is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made 
 woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the 
 pocket, and extracting it clutch'd? What reply ? 
 Ha ! What sayst thou to tliis tune, matter, and 
 niethod ? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain? Ha! 
 What say'st tlioii, trot? Is the world as it was, 
 man :" VVhich is the way ? Is it sad, and few words ? 
 Or how ? The trick of it ? 
 
 Duke. Still thus, and thus! still worse! 
 
 Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ? 
 Procures she still? Ha? 
 
 Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef 
 and she is herself in the tub. 
 
 Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it: it 
 must be so: ever your fresh whore, and your pow- 
 der'd bawd : an iinshunn'd consequence ; it must 
 be so : art going to prison, Pompey ? 
 
 Clo. Yes, faith, sir. 
 
 Lucio. AVliy, 'tis not amiss, Pompey : farewell : 
 go ; say, 1 sent tiiee thither. For debt, Pompey ? 
 Or how ? 
 
 Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. 
 
 Lucio. Well, then imprison him : if imprisonment 
 be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right : bawd is 
 he, doubtless, and of antiquity too : bawd-lioin. — 
 Farewell, good Pompey: commend me to the prison, 
 Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; 
 you will keep the house. [bail. 
 
 Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my 
 
 Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not 
 the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to incre:ise your 
 bondage: if you take il not |)atiently, why, your 
 mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. — Bless 
 you, friar. 
 
 Duke. And you. 
 
 Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? 
 
 Eib. Come your ways, sir; come. 
 
 ('lo. You will not bad me then, sir? 
 
 Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now. — What news 
 abroad, friar? What news? 
 
 Elb. Come your ways, sir ; come. 
 
 Lucio. Go, — to kenuel, Pompey, go. 
 
 [ E.veunt Elbow, Clown, and Offi.ce> s. 
 What «ews, friar, of the duke ? 
 
 Duke. I know none : can you tell me of any? 
 
 Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of 
 Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is 
 he, think you ? 
 
 Duke. I know not where but wlteresoever, 1 
 wish him well. 
 
 Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to 
 steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was 
 never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in hia - 
 absence : he puts transgression to't. 
 
 Duke. He does well in't. 
 
 Lucio. A little more lenity to lecliery would At 
 no harm in him : something too crabbed that way 
 friar. 
 
 
 
82 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act HL 
 
 Duke. It is too general a vice^ and severity must 
 cure it. 
 
 Lticio. Yes, in good sootii, the vice is of a great 
 l^indred ; it is well iilly'd : but it is iinpussible to 
 extirp it quite, t'liar, till eating and diiiiking be [lut 
 down. 'I'liey say, this Aiij;elo was not made by man 
 and woman, alter the downi igiit way of creation : is 
 it true, tliink you? 
 
 Diike. How slioidd he be made, then ? ^ 
 
 Lucio. Si.nne repoit, a sea-maid spawn'd him: — 
 Some, that lie wds begot between two stoclc-fishes : 
 
 But it is certain, that «vlien lie makes water, his 
 
 urine is congeal'd ice ; that I knovv to be true : and 
 he is a motion tm^enerative, tliat's iiilallible. 
 
 Duke. Yon are pleasant, sii ; and sjjeak apace. 
 
 Lucio. Why, wiiat a ruthless thing is this in liim, 
 fertile rebellion of a cod piec«^ to take away tlie 
 life of a man ? Would the duke, that is absent, ha\ e 
 done this? Ere he would have liang'd a man for the 
 getting- a hundred bastards, he would have paid tor 
 the nursing a thousand : he had some feeling of the 
 sport; he knew the seriice, and that iustrncted him 
 to mercy. 
 
 Duke. I never heard the absent duke much de- 
 tected for women ; he was not inclined that way. 
 
 Lucio. O, sir, yon are deceived. 
 
 Duke. ''I"is not possible. 
 
 Lu»io. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of 
 fifty; — and his use was, to put a clucat in her clack- 
 dish : the duke had crotchets in him : he would be 
 drunk too; that let me inform you. 
 
 Duke. You do him wrong, surely. 
 
 Lucio. Sir, 1 was an inward ol his : a shy fellow 
 was the duke : and, I believe, I know the cause of 
 liis withdrawing. 
 
 Duke. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause? 
 
 Lucio. No, — pardon ;— 'tis a secret must be lock'd 
 within the teeth and the lips : but this I can let you 
 unilerstaud, — The greater tile of the subject held the 
 duke to be wise. 
 
 Duke. Wise ? why, no question but he was. 
 
 Lucio. A very supedicial, ignorant, nnweighing 
 fellow. 
 
 Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mis- 
 taking; the very stream of his life, and the business 
 he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give 
 him a better proclamation. Let him be but testi- 
 monied in his own bringings forth, and he shall 
 appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and 
 a soldier: Hierefore, you speak nnskillully; or, if 
 your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in 
 your malice. 
 
 Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. 
 
 Duke. Love talks witix better knowledge, and 
 knowledge with dearer love. 
 
 Lucio. Come, sir, I knovv what I know. 
 
 Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know 
 not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, 
 (as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to 
 make your answer before him : if it be honest you 
 have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am 
 tionnd to call upon you ; and, I pray you, your name ? 
 
 Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio ; well known to the 
 duke. 
 
 Duke. He shall know you belter, sir, if I may live 
 to report you. 
 
 Lucio. I fear you not. 
 
 Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more; 
 or you imagine me too unhurtfiil an opposite. But, 
 indeed, I can do you little harm : yoifU forswear 
 this again. 
 
 Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceiv'd in 
 me, friar. But no more of this : canst thou tell, if 
 Claudio die to-morrow, or no? 
 
 Duke. Why should he die, sir ? 
 
 Lucio. Why? for tilling a bottle with a tun-dish. 
 I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: 
 this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province 
 with contiuency ; sparrows must not build in his 
 house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke 
 
 yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd ; he 
 would never bring them to light: would he were 
 return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condeiiin'd for 
 iintrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray 
 for me. The duke, 1 say to thee again, would eat 
 muttdii on Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and 1 
 say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though 
 she smelt brown bread and garlic : say, that I said 
 so. Faiewell. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality 
 Can censure 'scape; back- wounding calumny 
 'I'he whitest virtiie strikes : what king so strong, 
 Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?— 
 But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Esc,\Lus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers. 
 
 Escal. Go, away with her to prison. 
 
 Baicd. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honour 
 is accouiitt-d a merciful man: good my lord. 
 
 Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still 
 forfeit ill the same kind? This would make mercy 
 swear, and play the tyrant. 
 
 Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may 
 it ))lease your honour. 
 
 Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's inforniatiou 
 against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with 
 child by him in the duke's time, he promised her 
 marriage: his child is a year and a quarter old. 
 come Philip and Jacob : I have kept it myself; eind 
 see how he goes about to abuse me. 
 
 Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license : — 
 let him be called before us. — Away with her to 
 prison: goto; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and 
 Ojficers.] Provo.st, my brother Angelo will not be 
 alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow: let him he 
 fiiinish'd with (li\iiies, and have all charitable pre 
 jiaration ; if my brother wrought by my pity, it should 
 not be so with him. 
 
 Prov. S.J please you, this friar hath been with 
 him. and advised him for the entertainment of deatii. 
 
 Escal. Good even, good father. 
 
 Duke. Bliss and goodness on you ! 
 
 Escal. Ot whence are you ? 
 
 Duke. Not oi this country, though my chance is 
 now 
 To use it for my time : I am a brother 
 Of gracious order, late come from the see. 
 In special business from his holiness. 
 
 Escal. What news abroad i' the world' 
 
 Duke. None, but that there is so gteat a fever on 
 goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it : 
 novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to 
 be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be 
 constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth 
 enough alive, to make societies secure ; but security 
 enough, to make fellowships accurs'd : much upon 
 this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. 'J his 
 new is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I 
 pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke ? 
 
 Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, con- 
 tended especially to know himself. 
 
 Duke. What pleasure was he given to ? 
 
 Escal. Rather rejoicing io see another merry, 
 than merry at any thing which profess'd to make 
 him rejoice : a gentleman of all temperance. But 
 leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may 
 prove prosperous ; and let me desire to know, liow 
 you find Claudio preijared. I am made to under- 
 stand, that you have lent him visitation. 
 
 Duke. He professes to have received no sinister 
 measures from his judge, but most willingly humbles 
 himself to the determination of justice : yet had he 
 framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailly, 
 many deceiving promises of life ; which I, by my 
 good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he 
 resolved to die. 
 
 Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, 
 and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I 
 have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the ex- 
 treire^it shore of my modesty ; but my brother justice 
 
Act IV. ScKNE 2. 
 
 5IEASURE FOR MEASURE; 
 
 83 
 
 have I found so severe, tiiat he hath forced nie to 
 tell liiiu, he is indeed — ;jiistice. 
 
 Duke. II' Ills i:\vti lile answer the straKness of liis 
 proceediiii;, it shall become him vvetl ; wherein, if 
 he cliance to fail, he haUi .sei,tenced hiuiseit. 
 
 Escdl. I am yoing to visit the prisom-r : fare 
 you Well. 
 
 Duke. Peace be with yon ! 
 
 [Exeunt Escahis and Provost. 
 ile, wlio the sword ol lieawn will bear, 
 Should be as holy as se\eie ; 
 Pattern in himself to know. 
 Grace to stand, and vii tne "jo ; 
 IVIore nor less to utiieis payin;;, 
 Thun by sell-olfences weighing'. 
 Shame to him, whose cruel striking 
 Kills for faults of his own liking I 
 Twice treble shame on Angelo, 
 'i'o weed my vice, and let his yiow! 
 O, what may man vvittiin him hide, 
 Tlu)U;;h angHJ on the outward side ! 
 How may likeness, made in crimes, 
 Making practice on the limes. 
 Draw with idle spiders' strings 
 Most pond'rous and substantial things ! 
 Cralt against vice I must apply : 
 With Angelo to-night shall lie 
 His old betrothed, but despis'd ; 
 So disguise sh ill, by ihe disguis'd, ' 
 
 l^ay witli lalsehoold false exacting, 
 And perform an old contracting. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Room hi Marianas House. 
 
 Mariana discovered sitting ; a Boy singing. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Take, ok take those lips aioay. 
 
 That so su eetly were forsworn ; 
 And those eyes, the break of day, 
 
 Lights that do mislead the morn : 
 But my kisses bring again, 
 
 bring again, 
 Seals of love, but seatd in vain. 
 
 seal din vain. 
 
 Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick 
 away ; 
 Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice 
 Hath often still'd my biawling discontent. — 
 
 [Exit Boy. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 I cry yon mercy, sir; and well could wish, 
 
 You had not found me here so musical : 
 
 Let me excuse me, and believe me so, — 
 
 My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis good ; though music oft hatli such a 
 charm, 
 To make bad, good, and good provoke to harm. 
 I pray you, tell me, hath any body inqui ed for me 
 Jiere to-day? much upon this time have 1 promis'd 
 here to meet. 
 
 Man. You have not been inquired after: I have 
 sat here all day. 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 Duke. I do constantly believe you : — The time is 
 come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a 
 little : may be, I will call upon you anon, for some 
 a(J*;tn(age to yourself. 
 
 Mari. I am always bound to yon. [Exit. 
 
 Duke. Very well met, and welcome. 
 Whit is the news from this good deputy ? 
 
 Isab. He hath a garden circumniiir'd with brick, 
 Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; 
 And to that vineyard is a planched gate, 
 Thnt makes his opening with this bigger key 
 This other dotli command a little door, 
 
 Which from the vineyard to the garden leads , 
 There have I niaiie my luomise to call on huu, 
 U|)on t'le heavy middle of the night. iway '! 
 
 Duke. But shall you on your knuwled^^e liad this 
 
 Isab. I have ta'en a due ami wary ni^te iipon't- 
 Witti whispering and most guilty diligence, 
 In action all of precept, he did show me 
 The way twice o'er. 
 
 Duke. Are there no other tokens 
 
 Between you 'greed, concerning her observance i* 
 
 Isab. No, none, but only a repair i' the darit; 
 And that 1 have possess'd him, my most ft;iy 
 Can be but brief: Ibr I have made him know, 
 I have a servant comes with me along, 
 Ttrat stays upon me ; whose persuasion is, 
 1 come about my brother. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis well borne u|. , 
 
 I have niit yet made known (o Mariana 
 A word of tliis : — What, ho! witliin ' come forth ! 
 
 He-enter Mariana. 
 
 I pray you be acquainted with this maid ; 
 Sue comes to do you good. 
 
 Isab. I do desire the like. 
 
 Duke. Do you persuade yourself, that 1 respect 
 you ! (louiid it. 
 
 Mari. Good friar, I know you do, and have 
 
 Duke, 'lake then this your companion by the hand, 
 V\ ho hath a story reaily for your ear: 
 I .•■hall attend your leisure ; but make haste ; 
 Ti.e vajorous uigiit approaches. 
 
 Man. \V lilt please you walk aside? 
 
 [Exeunt Mariana and Isabella. 
 
 Duke. O place and aniilness. uiilliniis of false 
 Are struck upon (hee! volumes of report [eyes 
 
 lliin witli these false and most coutrarious quests 
 Upon thy doings ! thousand 'scapes of wit 
 Make thee the father of their idle dieam, 
 And rack thee in their fancies! — Welcome! How 
 agreed ? 
 
 Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. 
 
 Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father. 
 If you advise iL 
 
 Duke. 
 But my entreaty too. 
 
 Isab. Little have you to say. 
 
 When you depart from \v"\ but, soit and Ijw, 
 Remember now my br» 
 
 Mari. Fear me not. 
 
 Duke. Nor, gentle daugliter, fear you not at all ; 
 He is your husband on a pre-contract : 
 To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin ; 
 Sith tiMt tlie justice of your title to him 
 Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let ns go; 
 Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Prison. 
 
 Etiter Provost and Clown, 
 
 Prov. Come hither, sirrah : can you cut off a 
 man's head ? 
 
 Clo. It the man be a bachelor, sir, I can : but if he 
 be a married man, he is his wife's head, and I can 
 never cut olFa woman's Iiead. 
 
 Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and 
 yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are 
 to die Claudio and Barnardine : here is in our pri- 
 son a common executioner, who in his office lacks a 
 helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, ii 
 shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall 
 have your full time of imprisonment, and your de 
 liverance with an iinpitied whippping ; for you have 
 been a notorious bawd. 
 
 Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, timeout 
 of mind ; but yet I will be content to be a lawfid 
 hangman. I would be glad to receive some instrui - 
 tion from my fellow partner. [there ? 
 
 Pruv. What ho. Abborsou! Where's Abliorson, 
 
 It is not my consent. 
 
84 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 E?tiir Abhorson. 
 
 Abhor. Do you call, siii' 
 
 Piov. Siirali, here's a fellow will help you to- 
 flioirow ill your execution: ii' yon tiiink it meet, 
 coniijoiiiid with him by the year, and let iiiiti abide 
 here with yon; it' not, use hini for the present, and 
 «li.>iini.ss hiiu : he cannot plead his estimation witii 
 you ; lie hath been a bawd. 
 
 Abhur. A bawd, sir / Fy upon him, he will dis- 
 credit our mysiery. 
 
 Pvuv. Go to, sir; yon weigh equally ; a feather 
 will turn the scale. [Exit. 
 
 C'lo. Pray, sir, by your good favour, (for, surely, 
 sir, a good favour you have, but that yon have a 
 iiangiiig look,) do yon call, sir, your occupation a 
 mystery'? 
 
 Abhor. Ah, sir, a mystery. 
 
 CVo. l-'ainting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery ; 
 biui your whores, sir, being members of nij occu- 
 pation, using painting, do prove my occupation a 
 mystery : but what mystery there should be in 
 hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. 
 
 Aij"or. Sir, it is a mystery. 
 
 C'/o. Proof. 
 
 Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief : 
 H it be too little for yojr thief, your true man thinks 
 it big enougli ; if it be too big for your thief, your 
 thiei thinks it little enough: so every true man's 
 apparel fits your thief. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Prov. Are you agreed? 
 
 Clo. Sir, 1 will serve him; fori do find, yonr 
 hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd ; 
 lie doth ofteiier ask ior^iveness. 
 
 Prov. Yon, sirrah, provide your block and yonr 
 axe, to-morrow, four o'clock. 
 
 A.h]u>r. Come on, bawd ; I will instruct thee in my 
 trade ; follow. 
 
 CVi). 1 do desire to learn, sir ; and I hope, if you 
 have occasion to use me for your own turn, you 
 shall tind me yaie : lor, truly, sir, for your kindness, 
 I owe you a good turn. 
 
 Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claiidio : 
 
 [Exeunt Clown and Abhorson. 
 One has my pity; not a jot tlie other, 
 Being a murderer, thougU he were my brother. 
 
 Enter Claudio. 
 Lookjhere's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death : 
 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow 
 Thou must be made iinmortal. Where's Barnar- 
 dine"^ [labour 
 
 Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless 
 When it lies starkly in tiie travellers bones : 
 He will not wake, 
 
 Prov. Who can do good on him .-" 
 
 Well, go, prepare yourstlf. But hark, what noise .^ 
 
 [Knockirirj tvithin.) 
 Heaven give your spirits comfort ! [Exit Claudio. 
 
 By and by : — 
 I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve, 
 For the most gentle Claudio. — Welcome, father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. The best and vvholesomest spirits of the 
 
 night [late ( 
 
 Envelop yon, good provost ! Who called here of 
 
 Prov. None, since the curfew rung. 
 
 Duke. Not Isabel ? 
 
 Prov. No. 
 
 Duke. They will then, ere't be long. 
 
 Prov What comfort is for Claudio ^ 
 
 Duke. There's some in hope. 
 
 Prov. It is a bitter deputy. 
 
 Vuke. Not so, not so ; iiis life is parallel'd 
 Even with the stroke and line of his great justice ; 
 lie d>itli vvitli holy abslineuce subdue 
 That in hinjself, which he spurs on his power 
 To qualify in others : were lie meai'd [nous; 
 
 With that which he corrects, then were be tyran 
 
 iut this being so, he's just. — Now are they come. — 
 {Knock within. — Provost (joes out.) 
 This is a gentle provost : seldom, when 
 The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. — 
 How now ? What noise ? That spirit's jio.ssess'd 
 with haste, (strokes. 
 
 That wounds the nnsisting postern with these 
 
 Provost returns, speakinr/ to one at thf door. 
 
 Prov. 'there he must stay, until the ollicer 
 Arise to let him in ; he is call d up. 
 
 Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet 
 But he must die to-raorrow V 
 
 Prov. None, sir, none. 
 
 Duke. As near the dawning. Provost, as it is. 
 Yon shall hear more ere morning. 
 
 Prov. Happily, 
 
 You something know ; yet, I believe, there comes 
 No countermand ; no such example have we : 
 Besides, upon the very siege ot justice, 
 Lord Angeic hath to the public ear 
 Profess'd the contrary. 
 
 Enter a Hlessen//er. 
 
 Dicke.'r\\'\s is his lordship's man. 
 
 Prov. And here comes Claud, o's pardon. 
 
 Mess. My lord hath sent yon this noie ; and by 
 me this further charge, that yon swerve not from 
 the smallest article ol it, neither in time, matter, nor 
 other circumstance. Good-morrow ; for, as 1 fi'ke 
 it, it is almost day. 
 
 Prov. 1 shall obey him. [Exit Messei/rer 
 
 Duke. This is his pardon ; purchasd by surli sm 
 
 iAsii.e.'' 
 For which the pardoner himself is in : 
 Hence hath offence his quick celerity, 
 Whfen it is borne in high authority : 
 When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended. 
 That for the fault's kne, is the olfender fritndi d — 
 Now, sir, what news :" 
 
 Prov. 1 told yon: lord Angelo, belike, thinkin 
 me remiss in mine office, awakens me witii tn f 
 unwonted putting on : metliinks, stianycl) i iv>: n 
 hath not used it before. 
 
 Duke. Pray yon. let's hear. 
 
 I'rov. [Reads.) TVhatsoever you may hear In the 
 contrary, let Claudio be executed by jour of I lie 
 clock ; and, in the afternoon, liarnardnie : Jar my 
 belter satisfaction, let vie have Claudio s head sent 
 me by Jive. Let this bedulyperform'd; with a tlunnj li I 
 that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. 
 Thus fail 7iot to do your ojfice, as you ivill answer 
 it at your peril. — What say you to this, sir :" 
 
 Duke. What is that Baraciraine,who is to be ex'e 
 cuted in the afternoon .'' 
 
 Prov. A Bohemian born; but here nursed up and 
 bred : one that is a prisoner nine years old. 
 
 Duke. How came it, that the absent duke had not 
 either deliver'd him to his liberty, or executed him ' 
 1 have heard, it was ever his manner to do so. 
 
 Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves for him ; 
 and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government ol 
 lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. 
 
 Duke. Is it now apparent ;* 
 
 Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. 
 
 Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in pri- 
 How seems he to be touch'd i [son? 
 
 Prov. A man that apprehends death no mor 
 dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep; careless, reck- 
 less, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come , 
 insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. 
 
 Duke. He wants advice. 
 
 Prov. He will hear none: he hath evermore had 
 t!ie liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape 
 hence, he would not ; drunk many times a-day, if not 
 many days entirely drunk. We have very often 
 aw.iked him, as if to carry hmi to execution, and 
 showed him a seeming. warrant ior it : it liatli not 
 moved him at all. 
 
 Duke. More of him anon. There is written in 
 I vonr brow. Provost, honestv and ■■onstancy : if 1 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 85 
 
 read it not truly, my ancient skill begnilfs me ; but 
 in the boldness of my cimning, 1 will lay myself" in 
 hazard. Claudio, whom here you have a warrant to 
 execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, 
 who hath sentenced liim : to make you understand 
 this in a manifested effect, 1 crave but four days 
 respite ; for the which you aie to do me both a pre- 
 sent and a dangerous courtesy. 
 
 Prov. Pray, sir, in what? 
 
 Duke. In the delaying death. 
 
 Prov. Alack! how may I do it? having the hour 
 limited ; and an express comtnand, imder penalty, 
 to deliver his head in the view of Angelo : I may 
 make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the 
 smallest. 
 
 Duke. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, 
 if my instructions may be your guide. Let this 
 Baniardine be this morning executed, and his head 
 borne to Angelo. 
 
 Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will dis- 
 cover the favour. 
 
 Duke. O, death's a great disguiser : and you may 
 add to it Shave the head, and tie the beard; and 
 say, it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared 
 before his death : you know, the course is com- 
 mon. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than 
 thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I pro- 
 fess, i will pl«ad against it with my life. 
 
 Prov. Pardon me, good father; it is against my 
 oath. [deputy? 
 
 Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to the 
 
 Prov. To him and to his substitutes. 
 
 Duke. You will think you have made no offence, 
 •f the duke avouch the justice of your dealing? 
 
 Prov. But what likelihood is in that ? 
 
 Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet 
 since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, inte- 
 grity, nor my persuasion, can with ease attempt you, 
 I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out 
 of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of 
 the duke. You know the character, I doubt not; 
 and the signet is not strange to you. 
 
 Prov. I know them both. 
 
 Duke. The contents of this is the return of the 
 duke; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; 
 where you shall find, within these two days he will 
 be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not : 
 for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor ; 
 perchance, of the duke's death ; perchance, enter- 
 ing into some monastery ; but, by chance, nothing 
 of what is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up 
 the shepherd : put not yourself into amazement, 
 how these things should be : all difficulties are but 
 easy when they are known. Call your execu- 
 tioner, and off with Bernardine's head: I will gi\e 
 him a present shrift, and advise him flir a bet- 
 ter place. Yet you are amazed; but this siiall ab- 
 solutely resolve you. Come away ; it is almost 
 clear dawa. [Exeunt. 
 
 •Scene III. — Another Room in Ove same. 
 Enter Clotvn. 
 
 Clo. I am as well acquainted here as 1 was in 
 our house of profession ; one would think, it were 
 mistress Over done's own house, for here be many 
 of her old customers. First, here's young master 
 Rash ; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and 
 old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds ; of 
 which he made five marks, ready money : marry, 
 the ginger was not much in request, for the old 
 women were all dead. Then is there here one 
 master Caper, at the suit of master Three- pile the 
 Tnercer, for some four suits of peach coloured satin, 
 which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we 
 ere young Uizy, and young master Deep-vow, and 
 master Copprr-spur, and master Starve-lackey the 
 rapier and dagger-man, and young Drop-heir that 
 killd lusty Pudding, and master Forthright the 
 tilter, and brave master Shoe-tie the great traveller, 
 and wild Half-can that stabb'd Pots, and, I think. 
 
 forty more ; all great doers in our trade, and are 
 now for the Lord's sake. 
 
 Enter Abhorson. 
 
 Abhor. Sirrali, bring Barnardin*^ hither. 
 
 C/o. Master Baniardme ! you must rise and be 
 hang'd, master Barnardine! 
 
 Abhor. What, lu), Barnardine! 
 
 Barnar. ( IF///ie«.) A pox o' your throats! Who 
 makes that noise there ? What are you ? 
 
 Clo. Your friends, sir; the hangman: you must 
 be So good, sir, to rise and be put to death. 
 
 Barnar. [U ithin.) .4 way, you rogue, away ; 1 
 am sleepy. 
 
 Abhor. Tell him, he must awake, and that quickly 
 too. 
 
 Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are 
 executed, and sleep afterwards. 
 
 Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. 
 
 Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear his 
 straw rustle. 
 
 Enter Barnardine. 
 
 Abhor. Is the axe npon the block, sirrah? 
 
 Clo. Very ready, sir. 
 
 Barnar. How now, Abhorson ? what's the news 
 with you ? 
 
 Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire yon to clap into 
 your prayers ; for, look you, the warrant's come. 
 
 Barnar. You rogue, I have been drinking all 
 night, lam not fitted for't. 
 
 Clo. O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night, 
 and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep (he 
 sounder all the next day. 
 
 E7iler Duke. 
 
 Abhor. Look you, sir, here conies your ghostly 
 father : do we jest now, tiiink you ? 
 
 Duke. Sir, induced by my chaiity, and hearing 
 how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise 
 you, comlitrt you, and pray with you. 
 
 Barnar. Friar, not I; I have been di inking 
 hard all night, and I will have more time to [.re- 
 pare me, or they shall beat out my brains with 
 billets: I will not consent to die this day, tliat's 
 certain. " [30,,^ 
 
 Duke. O, sir, you must : and therefore; I besiech 
 look forward on the journey you shall go. 
 
 Barnar. I .swear, I will not die to-day for any 
 man's persuasion. 
 
 Duke, But hear you, — 
 
 Barnar. Not a word ; if you have any thing fo 
 say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I 
 to-day. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Provost. 
 
 Duke. Unfit to live, or die : O, gravel heart! — 
 After him, fellows ; bring him to (he block. 
 
 [Exeunt Abhorson and Cloton. 
 
 Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner ? 
 
 Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death ; 
 And, to transport him in the mind he is. 
 Were damnable. 
 
 Prov. Here in the prison, fathe* 
 
 There died this morning of a cruel fever 
 One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, 
 A man of Claudio's years; his beard, and head, 
 Just of his colour : what if we do omit 
 This reprobate, till he were well inclined ; 
 And satisfy the deputy with the visage 
 Of Ragozine, more like to Clandio'i^ 
 
 Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides I 
 Dcspatcii it j)resently ; the hour draws on 
 Prelix'd by Angelo ; see, this be done. 
 And sent according to command ; whiles I 
 Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. 
 
 Prov. This shall be done, good father, presently. 
 But Barnardine must die this afternoon ; 
 And liow shall we continue Claudio, 
 To save me from the danger that might come, 
 
8S 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 If he were known alive? [Imlds, 
 
 Duke. Let this be dune ; — Put them in secret 
 
 Both Barnardine aud Claudio : ere twice 
 
 The sun hath made his journal greeting to 
 
 Tlie under generation, you shall find 
 
 Your safety manifested. 
 Prov. I am your free dependent. 
 Duke. Quick, despatch, 
 
 And send the head to Anpelo. [Exit Provost. 
 
 Now will 1 write letters to Angelo, — 
 
 The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents 
 
 yiiall witness to him, I am near at home ; 
 
 And that, by great injunctions, 1 am bound 
 
 To enter publicly : Inm I'll desire 
 
 To meet me at the consecrated fount, 
 
 A league below the city; and fiom thence, 
 
 By cold gradation and weal balanced (brni. 
 
 We shall proceed with Angelo. 
 
 Re-enter Provost. 
 
 Prov. Here is the jiead : I'll carry it myself 
 
 Duke, Convenient is it : make a swift return ; 
 For 1 would commune with you oi such things, 
 Tliat want no ear but yoius. 
 
 Prov. I'll make all speed. [Exit. 
 
 Isab. {Wiihiti.) Peace, ho, be liere ! 
 
 Duke. The tongue of Isabel: — she's come to 
 know, 
 [f yet her brother's pnrdoD be come hither : 
 But I will keep her ignorant of her good. 
 To make her heavenly comforts of despair, 
 When it is least expected. 
 
 Enter Is.\bell.\. 
 
 Isab. Ho, by your leave. 
 
 Duke. Good morning to yon, fair and gracious 
 daughter. 
 
 Isab. The better, given me by so holy a man. 
 Hatli yet the deputy sent my brothers pardon? 
 
 Duke. He hath released hiui, Isabel, ii-otn the 
 His head is off, and sent to Angelo. [world : 
 
 Jsab. Nay, but it is not so. 
 
 Duke. It is no other : 
 
 SliDW your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience. 
 
 [sao. O, I wi\[ to him, and pluck out his eyes. 
 
 Duke. You shall not be admitted to his sight. 
 
 Isab. Unhappy Claudio ! Wretched Isabel! 
 Injurious world ! Most damned Angelo .' 
 
 Duke. This nor hurts hiuj, nor profits you a jot : 
 Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to heaven. 
 iVlark w hat I say ; which you shall find 
 By every syllable, a faithful verity : [eyes ; 
 
 Tiie dnke comes home tomorrow ; — nay, dry your 
 One oi our convent, and his confessor. 
 Gives me this instance : already he hath carried 
 Notice to Escalus and Angelo; 
 Who do prepare to meet him at the gates. 
 There to give up their power. If yon can, pace 
 
 your wisdom 
 Iq that good path tiiat I would wish it go ; 
 And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, 
 Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart. 
 And general honour. 
 
 Isab. I am directed by you. 
 
 Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give; 
 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return : 
 Say, by this token, I desire his company 
 At Mariana's honse to-night. Her cause, and yours, 
 I'll perfect him withal ; and he shall bring you 
 Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo 
 Accuse him home, and home. For my poor self, 
 I am combined by a sacred vow. 
 And siiall be absent. Wend you with this letter : 
 Command these fretting waters from your eyes 
 \Vitli a light heart; trust not my holy "order, 
 If 1 pervert your course. — Who's here '{ 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 Lncio. Good even I 
 
 Fnar, wliere is tht? provost •' 
 
 Ouki. Not witliin. sir. 
 
 Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mme 
 heait, to see thine eyes so red : lliou uuist be pa- 
 tient : I am fain to dine and sup with water and 
 bran; I dare not tor n>y head fill my belly; one 
 fruitful meal would set me to't : but they say tlie 
 duke will be here to mono w. By my troth, Isabel, 
 I lov'd thy brother: if the old fantastical duke oi 
 dark corners had been at home, he had livf d. 
 
 [Exit Isabella 
 
 Duke, Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholde 
 to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them 
 
 jLucio. Friar, thou knowest not the dnke so vvd 
 as I do : he's a better woodman than thou takest 
 him for. 
 
 Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare 
 ye well. 
 
 Lucio. Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee ; I can 
 tell tliee pretty tales of the d-.^d. 
 
 Duke. You have told me too many of him al- 
 ready, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were 
 enough. 
 
 Lucio. I was once before him for getting a wench 
 with child. 
 
 Duke. Did you such a thing ? 
 
 Lucio. Yes, marry, did 1 ; but was fain to for- 
 swear it; tliey would else have married me to the 
 rotten medlar. 
 
 Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than honest ; 
 rest you well. 
 
 Lucio. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the 
 lane's end : if bawdy talk otlend yon, we'll have 
 very little of it: nay, I'riar, I am a kmd of bur, I 
 shall stick. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Angela's House. 
 Enter Angelo and Escalus. 
 
 Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath disvonch'd 
 other. 
 
 Ang. In most uneven and distracted manner. 
 His actions show much like to madness: pray hea- 
 ven, his wisdom be not tainted ! And why meet him 
 at the gates, and re-dcliver our authorities there? 
 
 Escal. I guess not. 
 
 Any. And why sliould we proclaim it in an hour 
 before his etitering. that if any crave redress of in- 
 justice, they should exhibit their petitions in the 
 street ? 
 
 Escal. He shows his reason for that, to have a 
 despatch of complaints ; aud to deliver us from de- 
 vices liereafter, which shall then have no power Ic 
 stand against us. 
 
 Ang. Well, I beseech yon, let it be proclaim'd 
 Betimes i' the morn, I'll call you at your hou.se ; 
 Gixe notice to such men of sort and suit. 
 As are to meet him. 
 
 Escal. I shall, sir: fare you well. \Exit 
 
 Any. Good night. — 
 This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant 
 Antl dull to all proceedings. A detlower'd maid ! 
 And by an eminent body, thateufoic'd 
 The law against it ! — But that her tender shame 
 Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, [nt. 
 How might she tongue me? Yet reason dares her?— 
 For my authority bears a credent bulk. 
 That no particular scandal once can touch. 
 But it confounds the breatlier. He should have liv'd. 
 Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense. 
 Might, in the times to come, have laen revenge. 
 By so receiving a dishonour'd life, [liv'd 
 
 \V itti ransom of such shame. 'Would yet he had 
 Alack, when once our grate we have forgot. 
 Nothing goes right: we would, and we would ii'if. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Scene V. — Fields without the Toicn. 
 Enter Duke in his own habit, and Friar Peter. 
 
 Duke. 'I'liese letters at lit time deliver iia. 
 
 [Giving Itttert, 
 The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. 
 The matter being afoot, keep your instruction. 
 And hold you ever to our special drift ; 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 87 
 
 Though sometimes you do blench from this to that. 
 As rause doth minister. Go, call at Flavins' house, 
 And tell liiin where I stay : give the like notice 
 To V'alentinus, Rowland, and to Crassiis, 
 And bid them bring the trumpets to tiie gate; 
 iiut send me Flavius first. 
 
 F. Peter. It shall be s])eeded well. 
 
 [Exit Friar. 
 
 Enter Varrils. 
 
 Duke. I thank thee, Vanius ; thou hast made 
 good haste : 
 tJome, we will walk ; there's other of our friends 
 Will greet us here anon, my genile Varrius. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene \l.— Street war the City Gate. 
 
 Enter Isabella and Mariana. 
 
 Isab. To speak so indiiecfly, I am loath; 
 I would say the (ruth ; but to accuse him so. 
 That is your part: yet I'm ad\is'd to do it; 
 He says, to veil full purpose. 
 
 Mart. Be rul'd by him. 
 
 Isab. Besides, he tells me, that, if peradventu.e 
 He speak against me on the adverse Side, 
 I should not think it strange ; for 'tis a physic, 
 That's bitter to sweet end. 
 
 Mari. I would, friar Peter — 
 
 Isab. O, peace ; the friar is come. 
 
 Enter Friar Peter. 
 
 W. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand 
 most fit. 
 Where you may have such vantage on the duke, 
 He shall not pass you : twice have the trumpets 
 
 sounded ; 
 The generous and gravest citizens 
 Have hent the gates, and very near upon 
 'i'lie duke is ent'ring; therefore hence, away. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — A public Place near the City Gate. 
 
 Marl\na [veiled], Isabella, and Peter, at a dis- 
 tance. Enter at opposite doors, Uuke, Varrius, 
 Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, 
 OJficeis, and Citizens. 
 Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met: — 
 Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see yon. 
 Any. and Escal. Happy return be to your royal 
 
 grace ! 
 Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. 
 We have made inquiry ot you ; and we hear 
 Such goodness of your justice, that our soul 
 Cannot but yield you forth to iiublic thanks, 
 Forernnning more requital. 
 Ana. You make my bonds still greater. 
 
 Diihe. O, your desert speaks loud ; and I should 
 wrong it. 
 To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, 
 When it deserves with characters of brass 
 A forted residence, 'gainst the tootii of time 
 And razure of oblivion; give me your hand. 
 And let the subject see, to make them know 
 That outward courtesies would fain proclaim 
 Favours that keep witliin. — Come, Esralus ; 
 You must walk by us on our other h;u)d ; — 
 And good supporters are yuu. 
 
 Peter and Isabella come forward. 
 
 F.Peter. Now is your time; speak loud, and 
 kneel before him. 
 
 Isab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard 
 Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid I 
 O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye 
 By throwing it on any other object, 
 'I'ill you have heard me in my true complaint, 
 And given me, justice, justice, justice, justice ! 
 
 Duke. Relate your wrongs : in what '( By whom ? 
 Be bnei : 
 
 Here is lord Angelo shall gi^e you justice ; 
 Reveal yourself to him. 
 
 Isab. O, worthy duke, 
 
 You bid me seek redemption of tlie devil: 
 Hear me yourself; for that whii;li I must speak 
 Must either punish me, not being behevd. 
 Or wring redress fiom you : hear me, O, hear me, 
 here. 
 
 Any. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm : 
 She- hath been a suitor to me for her brother. 
 Cut off by course of justice ! 
 
 Isab. By course of justice 
 
 Any. And she will siieak most bitterly, and 
 strange. [speak : 
 
 Isab. Most sirange, but yet most truly, will I 
 That Angelo's forsworn ; is it not strange '! 
 That Angelo's a murderer; is"t net strange? 
 That Aiigvio is an adult'rous tliief. 
 An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; 
 Is it not strange, and strange ? 
 
 Duke. Nay, fen times strange 
 
 Iseib. It is not truer he is Angelo, 
 Than this is all as true as it is strange : 
 Nay, it is ten times true ; for truth is truth 
 To the end of reckoning. 
 
 Duke. Away with her: — Poor soul, 
 
 She speaks this in the inhrmify of sense. 
 
 Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'sl 
 There is another comfort than this world. 
 That thou neglect me not, with that opinion 
 I'hat I am touch'd with madness ; make not itii- 
 
 I ossible 
 That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impossible. 
 But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground. 
 May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute. 
 As Angelo ; even so may Angelo, 
 In all his dressings, cliaracts, titles, forms. 
 Be an arch-villain ; belie\e it, royal prince. 
 If he be less, he's nothing ; but he's more. 
 Had I more name for badness. 
 
 Duke. By mine honesty, 
 
 If she be mad, (as I believe no other,) 
 Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense. 
 Such a dependency of thing on thing. 
 As e'er I heard in madness. 
 
 Isab. O, gracious duke. 
 
 Harp not on that ; nor do not banish reason 
 For inequality : but let your reason serve 
 To make the truth appear, where it seems hid ; 
 And hide the false, seems true. 
 
 Duke. Many that are not mad. 
 
 Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would 
 
 you say 
 
 ? 
 
 Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio, 
 Condemn'd upon the act of fornication 
 To lose his head ; condemn'd by Angela ^ 
 I, in probation of a sisterhood, 
 Was sent to by my brother: one Lucio 
 Was then the messenger; — 
 
 Lucio. 'ilint's I, an't like your grace. 
 
 1 came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her 
 To try her gracious fortune witlv lord Angelo, 
 For her poor brother's pardon. 
 
 Isab. That's he, indeed. 
 
 Duke. You were not bid to speak. 
 
 Lucio. No, my good lord 
 
 Nor wish'd to hold my peace. 
 
 Duke. I wish yon now then, 
 
 Pray you, take note of it: and when you have 
 A business for yourself, pray lieaven, you tiien 
 Be perfect. 
 
 Lucio. I warrant your honour. 
 
 Duke The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it 
 
 Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. 
 
 Lucio. Right. 
 
 Duke. It may be right; but you are in the wrong 
 To si>eak before your time. — Proceed. 
 
 Isah. I we* . 
 
 To tl s pernicious caitiff deputy. 
 
 Dt, t That's somewhat madly spoken. 
 
88 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Isah. Pardon it ; 
 
 'I Ik' phrase is to tlie matter. 
 
 Duke. Mended again: the matter; — Proceed. 
 
 Isab. In brief, — to set the needless process by, 
 How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, 
 M()vv lie refell'd me, and how 1 reply'd 
 (Fur this was of'uiiich length,) the vile conclusion 
 i now begin with grief and shunie to ntter : 
 tie would not, but by gilt of my chaste body 
 To his concupiscible intemperate lust, 
 Helease my brother; and, after much debatement, 
 Aly sisterly remorse coufntes mine honour, 
 And 1 did yield to him : but the next morn betimes, 
 His purpose surleitiiig, he sends a wariaut 
 i"or my poor brother's head. 
 
 Dtilce. This is most likely ! 
 
 Isab. O that it were as like as it is ti ue ! 
 
 Duke. By heaven, iond wretch, thou know'stnot 
 what ti>o(i speak'st; 
 Or else (hoii art siiborn'd against his honour. 
 In hateful practice: tirst, his integrity 
 Stands without blemish : — next, it imports no reason, 
 'I'liat with such vehemency he should pu sue 
 Faults proper to himself: if he had so oftVnded, 
 He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself. 
 And not have cut him otf: some one hath set you on ; 
 Confess tlie truth, aud say by whose ad\ice 
 't'iiou cam'st here to complain. 
 
 Isab. And is this all ? 
 
 Then, oh, you blessed ministers above. 
 Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, 
 Unibid ihe evil which is here wrapt up 
 In countenance ! — Heaven shield your grace from 
 
 woe. 
 As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! 
 
 Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone : — An ofBcer! 
 'i'o prison with her: — Shall we thus permit 
 A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall 
 (Jn him s(> near us? Tliis needs must be a practii'e. 
 H'ho knew of your intent, and coming hither? 
 
 laah. One that I would were here, friar Lodo- 
 wick. 
 
 Duke. A ghostly father, belike : — Who knows 
 that Lodowick ? 
 
 Lucio. .My lord, I know him ; 'tis a meddling 
 friar ; 
 ! do not like the man : had he been lay, my lord. 
 For certain words he spake against your giace 
 In your retirement, 1 had swing'd him soundly. 
 
 Duke. Words against me ? This' a good friar, 
 belike.' 
 And to set on this wretched woman here 
 Against our substitute ! — Let this i'riar be foiiiul. 
 
 Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that 
 1 saw them at the prison: a saucy friai, [friar 
 
 A very scurvy fellow. 
 
 F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace ! 
 
 I have stood by, my loid, and I have heard 
 Vour royal ear abus'd : tirst, hath this woman 
 Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute ; 
 Who is as free from touch or soil with her. 
 As slie from one nngot. 
 
 Duke. We did believe no less. 
 
 Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? 
 
 F. Peter. I know bin) for a man divine and holy ; 
 Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, 
 As he's reported by this gentleman : 
 And, on my trust, a man that never yet 
 Did, as he vouches, misre])ort your grace. 
 
 Lucio. JVly lord, most villanously ; believe it. 
 
 F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear 
 himself; 
 But at this instant he is sick, my lord, 
 or a strange fever: upon his mere request, 
 (Being come to knowledge that there was complaint 
 Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither. 
 To s|x-ak, as from his mouth, what he doth know 
 Is t Of, and false ; and what he witii his oath, 
 And all probation, will make up full clear, [man, 
 Whensoever he's convented. First, for this wo- 
 
 (To justify this worthy nobleman. 
 
 So vulgarly and personally accus'd,) 
 Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes. 
 Till she herself confess it. 
 Duke. Good friar, let'.s hear it», 
 
 [Isabella is carried off, yuardid; ana 
 Mariana comes forward.) 
 Do yoti not smile at this, lord Angelo? — 
 
 heaven.' the vanity of wretched fools! — 
 Give us some seats. — Come, cousin Angelo; 
 In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge 
 
 or your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar ? 
 First, let her show her tace ; and, alter, speak. 
 
 Mari. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face. 
 Until my husband bid me. 
 
 Duke. What, are you married ? 
 
 Mari. No, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Are yon a maid ? 
 
 Mari. No, my lord. 
 
 Duke. A widow, then ? 
 
 Mari. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Why, yon 
 
 Are nothing then : — Neither maid, widow, nor wiie? 
 
 Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk ; lur tnany 
 of them are neitlier maid, widow, nor wile. 
 
 Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, lie had some 
 To prattle (or hiinseK. [cuuss? 
 
 Lucio. Well, Hiy lord. 
 
 Mari. My lord, I do confess 1 ne'er was niarried; 
 And, I conless, besides, I am no maid : 
 
 1 have known my husband ; yet my husband knows 
 That ever he knew nie. fnot, 
 
 Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord ; it c.in be 
 no better. 
 
 Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'would tlioo 
 Wert so too. 
 
 Lucio. Well, my lord. 
 
 Duke. 'I'liis is no witness for lord Angelo. 
 
 Mari. Now I come to't, my lord : 
 She, that accuses him of loinu-atii'ii. 
 In sell-same manner doth accuse my husband; 
 And charges him, my lord, with such a time, 
 VV hen I'M depo.se 1 had him in mine arms. 
 With ail the eli'ect oflove. 
 
 Any. Charges she uwre than me ? 
 
 Mari. Not that I know. 
 
 Duke. No ? yon say, your husband. 
 
 Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, 
 \\ ho thinks, lie knows, that he ne'er knew ii.y body. 
 But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's. 
 
 Any. 'i'liis is a strange abuse : — Let's see tliy 
 face. 
 
 Mari. JVly husband bids me; now I will unmask. 
 
 ( Uyiveiliny.) 
 This is tliat face, thou cruel Angelo, [on- 
 
 Which, once thou sworst, was worth (lie looking 
 '1 his is liie hand, which, \\ith a vow'd contiact, 
 VV'as fast belock'd in thine : this is the body. 
 That took away the match frnm Isabel, 
 And did siijiply thee at thy garden house 
 In her imagiii'd person. 
 
 Duke. Know you this woman ? 
 
 Lucio. Carnally, she .says. 
 
 Duke. Sirrali, no more. 
 
 Lucio. Enough, my lord. 
 
 Any. I\ly lord, I must confess, 1 know thi.s 
 woman ; 
 And, five yeais since, there was some speech of 
 
 marriage 
 Betwixt mysfll'and her; vvliicli wns broke oQ", 
 Partly, for that her promised proportions 
 Came short ol composition; but, in elm 1, 
 For tiiat her repulatiui was disvaliied 
 In levity : since which time, of five years,, 
 I never spake « itii her, saw her, nor heard from her. 
 Upon my faith and honour. 
 
 Mari. Nable jrmce, 
 
 A.S there comes light from heaven, iuul . . .s from 
 
 breath, 
 As there is sense in truth, and truth lu viitue, 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 89 
 
 1 am aflinnc'd fins man's wife, as stronoiy 
 
 As woids coiilil iii;)ke ii|) vows: and my wood lord, 
 
 IJiit 'I'uesu.iy iiiglit l;ist gone, in liis gurden-liouse. 
 
 He knew ine as a wile : as (his is true 
 
 Let rue in safety raise me from my knees ; 
 
 Or else for ever be confixed here, 
 
 A marble monument ! 
 
 Arif/. I did but smile till now; 
 
 Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ; 
 My patience here is touch d : I do perceive, 
 'I'hese poor informal women av no more 
 But instruments of some more mightier member, 
 Tliat sets tliem on : let me have way, my lord, 
 I'o find this practice out. 
 
 Duke. Ay, with my heart ; 
 
 And punisii them unto your height of pleasure. — 
 1'liou foolish fi'iar; and liiou pernicious woman. 
 Compact with her that's gone! think'st thou, thy 
 oaliis, [saint. 
 
 Though they would swear down each j>articular 
 Were testimonies against his v^'orth and credit, 
 That's seai'd in approbation? — Vou, lord Escaius, 
 Sit with my cousin ; lend hinn your kind pains 
 To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd. — 
 There is another friar that set them on ; 
 Let him be sent for. 
 
 F. Peter. Woidd he were here, my lord : for he, 
 indeed, 
 Hath set the women on this complaint : 
 Vour provost kncrws the place where he abides. 
 And he may fetch him. 
 
 Dulce. Gir, do it instantly. — [Exit Provost. 
 
 And you, my noble and well-warrariti-d cousin. 
 Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth. 
 Do will) yirirr injrn-ies as seems you best, 
 (n any chastisemeut . I for a while 
 Will leaxe you ; but stir not you, till you have well 
 Determiired uprrn these slanderers. 
 
 Escal. .\Iy lord, we'll do it thoroughly. — [Exit 
 Duke.] Srgrrior Lncio, did not you say, you knew 
 that Irinr Lodou ick to be a dishonest person ? 
 
 Liicio. Cucul/us nonfacit monachum : lionest in 
 nothiirg, but in liis clothes; and one tliat hath spoke 
 most \ill:rnous speeciies of the duke. 
 
 Escal Wf snail entreat you to abide here fill he 
 come, and enforce tli-m against him: we shall find 
 this friar a notable fellow. 
 
 Liicio. As any in Vienna, on my word. 
 
 Escal. Call tliat same Isabel htre mice again; 
 [To an Attendant.) I would speak with her: piay 
 you, my ionl, gij«e me leave to question ; yoti shall 
 see how I'll handle her. 
 
 Lncio. Not better than he, by her own report. 
 
 Escal. Say you ? 
 
 Liicio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her 
 pri\ ately. she wnrrld sooner confess ; perchance, 
 publicly she'll be ashamed. 
 
 Re-enter Officers with Isabella ; tlie Duke in 
 the Friar's /labil, and Provost. 
 
 Escal. I «ill go darkly to work with her. 
 
 Lucio. That's the way ; for women are light at 
 midrriglit. 
 
 Escal. Cimip on, mistress: {To Isabella.) here's 
 a jieritlrwoman denies all that yon ha\e said. 
 
 Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke 
 of; here, with the proiost. 
 
 Escal. In \ery gorrd time: — speak not you to him 
 till we call upon you. 
 
 Lucio. Mum. 
 
 Escal. Come, sir: did yon set these women on 
 to slaiidi-r lord Angelo ? tliey have confess'd y(ru 
 
 Duke. "I'ls filse. [did. 
 
 Escal. How ! know you where you are ? 
 
 Duke. KeS|)ect to your great place I and let the 
 devil 
 He somefinre hnnour'd for his burnirrg throne : — 
 VV litre is the duke ? 'tis he should hear me speak. 
 
 Escal. The duke's in us; and we will hear you 
 Look, you speak justly. [speak : 
 
 Duke. IJoldly, at least: — But, O, poorsouI% 
 
 CouH' yori to seek the lamb here of the fox? 
 Gojd night to your redress. Is tiie drrkt- gone? 
 Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust, 
 'J'Irus to retort yorir manifest appeal. 
 And put ycrur trial in the villain's month, 
 Which here yon come to accuse. 
 Lucio. 1"his is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of 
 Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unlu'Uov* 'd 
 fiiar i 
 1st not enough, thoii hast suborn'd these women 
 To accuse this worthy man; but, in foul mouth, 
 And in the witness of his proper ear. 
 To call liim villain ? 
 
 And then to glance from liim to the duke himself; 
 'I'o tax him with injustice ? Take him hence ; 
 To the rack with liim : — We'll touze you joint by 
 
 joint. 
 But we will know this purpose. — What! unjust? 
 
 Duke. Be not so hot ; the duke 
 Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he 
 Dare rack his own; his subject am I not, 
 Nor here provincial : my business in this state 
 Made me a looker on here in Vienna, 
 Where 1 have seen corruption boil and bubble, 
 Till it o'er run the stew : laws, for all faults ; 
 But flinlis so coiintenanc'd, that the strong statutes 
 Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop. 
 As much in mock as mark. 
 
 Escal. Slander to the state ! Away with liim to 
 
 prison. 
 Ang. What can you vouch against him, signior 
 Lucio ? 
 Is this the man that you did tell ns of? 
 
 Lucio. 'Tis he, my lord. — Come hither, goodraan 
 bald |)ate : do yon know me ? 
 
 Duke- I remember you, sir, by the sound of your 
 voice : f met you at the prison, in the absence of 
 the duke. 
 
 Lucio. O, did you so? And. do you remember 
 what vou said of the duke ? 
 Duke. Most notedly, sir. 
 
 Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a 
 flesh-monger, a fijol, and a coward, as you then re- 
 ported him to be ? 
 
 Duke. You must, sir, change persons with nre, 
 ere you make that my report : you, indeed, spoke 
 so of him ; and much more, much worse. 
 
 Lucio. O fliou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck 
 thee by the nose, for thy speeches ? 
 
 Duke. I protest I love the duke, as I love my- 
 self 
 
 Ang. Hark! how the villain would close now, 
 alter liis treasonable abuses. 
 
 Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal:— 
 away with him to prison: — wheie is the provost ?^ — 
 — away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon 
 him : let hiin speak no more : — away with those 
 giglots too, and with the other confederate com- 
 panion. {T/ie Provost lays hands on the Duke.) 
 Duke. Stay, sir; stay awliile. 
 Anij. What ! resists he ? Help him, Lucio. 
 Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir ; come, sir : loli.sir: 
 why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be 
 hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with 
 a pox to vou ! show your sheep biting face, and be 
 hangd an hour ! Will't not oil? \Duke.) 
 
 {Pulls off the Friar s hood, and discovers the 
 Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e'er made a 
 duke. — 
 First, provost, let me bail these gentle three: — 
 Sneak not away, sir ; {to Lucio.) for the friar and you 
 Must have a word anon: — lay hohl on him. 
 Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. 
 Duke. W^liat you have spoke, I pardon: sit you 
 down.— {To Escaius ' 
 
 We'll borrow place of hirn. — Sir, by yom- leave : 
 
 {To Anijeio., 
 Hast thou or word, or wit, or im iidence, 
 That yet can do thee office ? If thou hast. 
 
90 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Rely npnn it fiil my tale be heard, 
 Ann liold no longer out. 
 
 Ant/. O my dread lord, 
 
 f slioulfi Ije giiillier than my guiltiness, 
 To think. 1 can be undiscernible, 
 When I percei\e, your grace, like power divine, 
 Ilatli lodk'd iijion my passes: then, good prince. 
 No longer session hold upon my shame, 
 Uiit let my tiial be mine own confession; 
 Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, 
 la all the grace 1 beg. 
 
 Duke. Come hither, Mariana : — 
 
 Say, wast tliou e'er contracted to tliis woman? 
 
 Anr/. I was, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Go tiike lit^r hence, and marry her in- 
 stantly — 
 Do yon the office, Criar; which consummate, 
 Keturn him here again: — (Jo with him, pro%ost. 
 
 [Exeunt Angela, Mariajui, Peter and Provost. 
 
 Escal. My lord, 1 am more amaz d at his dis- 
 honour, 
 Than at the strangeness of it. 
 
 Duke. Come hither, Isabel: 
 
 Your t'riar is now your prince : as 1 was then 
 Advertising, and holy to jour business. 
 Not changing heart with habit, I am still 
 Atlorney'd at your service. 
 
 Isah. ' O, give me pardon, 
 
 Th.it 1, your vassal, have eniployd and pain'd 
 Your unknown sovereignty. 
 
 Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel: 
 
 And now, dear maid, be you as iVee to us. 
 Your biotlier's death, I know, sits at your heart ; 
 And yon may marvel, why I obscur'd myself, 
 Labouring to save his life; and would not rather 
 Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power. 
 Than let him so be lost ; O, most kind maid. 
 It was the swift celerity of his death. 
 Which I did tliink witli slower foot came on, 
 Tiiat biain'd my purpose : but, peace be with him ! 
 'I'hat life is better lite, past fearing death, 
 'J'iian that which lives to fear : make it yonr comfort. 
 So happy is your brother. 
 
 Re enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, andPruvost. 
 
 Jsab. I do, my lord. 
 
 V'ike. For this new-married man, approaching 
 
 here, ^ 
 Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd 
 Your well defended honour, you must pardon 
 For Mariana's sake : but as he adjudged yonr 
 
 brother, 
 fIBeing criminal, in double violation 
 Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breacli, 
 'J'hereon dependent, for your brother's lile,) 
 The very mercy of the law cries out 
 Most audible, e\en I'rom his proper tongue, 
 A71 Antjelo for Ulaudio, death for death. 
 Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; 
 Like di/th c|uii like, and Measure s{\\\ for Measure. 
 'J"!ien, Angelo, thy fanlt's tlius manifested: 
 Which though thou wouldst deny, denies thee 
 
 vantage : 
 We do condemn thee to the very block. 
 Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like 
 
 liasti-' ; 
 Away with him. 
 
 Mart. O, my most gracious lord, 
 
 I hope you will not mock me with a husband! 
 Duke. It IS your husband iiiock'd you with a 
 husband : 
 Consenting to tlie safeguard of your honour, 
 I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, 
 For that lie knew you, might reproach your life. 
 And ch ke your good to come : tor his possessions, 
 Allliougli by confiscation they are ours. 
 We do iiist.ite and widow you withal, 
 'J'o Iriy you a better husband. 
 
 Mari. O, my dear lord, 
 
 I crave no olher, nor no better man. 
 
 Duke. Never crave Iiini; we are definitive. 
 
 Mari. Gentle, my liege,— {Kneeling., 
 
 Duke. Vou do but lose your labour : 
 
 Away with him to death.— Now, sir, to you. 
 
 (2'o liucio.) 
 
 Mari. O, my good lord! — Sweet Isabel, take 
 my part ; 
 Lend me your knees, and all my life to come 
 I'll lend you all my life to do you service. 
 
 Duke. Against all .sense you do imp6rtune her : 
 Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact. 
 Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break. 
 And take her hence in horror. 
 
 Mari. Isabel, 
 
 Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ; 
 Hold np your hands, say nothing. III speak all. 
 They say, best men are moulded out of lauits ; 
 ."^nd. for the most, become much more the better 
 For being a little bad : so may my husband. 
 O, Isabel ! will you not lend a knee ? 
 
 Duke. He dies for Claudio's death. 
 
 Isab. Most bounteous sir, 
 
 (KiieelinyJ) 
 Look, fit please you, on this man condemu'd. 
 As if my brother liv'd : I partly think, 
 A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, 
 'Till he did look on me ; since it is so. 
 Let him not die: my brother had but justice. 
 In that he did the thing for which he died : 
 For Angelo, 
 
 His act did not o'ertake his bad intent; 
 And must be buried but as an intent 
 That perish d by the way: thoughts are no subjects; 
 Intents but merely thoughts. 
 
 Mari. Merely, ray lord. 
 
 Duke. Your suit's unprofitable ; stand up, I say. — 
 I have bethought me ot another fault: — 
 Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded 
 At an unusual hour? 
 
 Prov. It was commanded so. 
 
 Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed ? 
 
 Prov. No, my good lord ; it was by private 
 message. 
 
 Duke. For which I do discharge you of your ofiice : 
 Give up your keys. 
 
 Prov. Pardon me, noble lord : 
 
 I thought it was a fault, but knew it not ; 
 Yet did repent me, after more advice : 
 For testimony whereof one in the prison, 
 That should by private order else have died, 
 I have reserv'd alive. 
 
 Duke. W'hal's he ? 
 
 Prov. His name is Barnardine. 
 
 Duke. I would thou had'st done so by Claudio. — 
 Go, tetch him hither ; let me look upon him. 
 
 [Exit Provost. 
 
 Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise 
 As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd. 
 Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. 
 And lack of temper'd judgment afterwards. 
 
 Any. I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure * 
 And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart, 
 'I'hat I crave death more willingly than mercy; 
 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. 
 
 Re-enter Provost, Barnakdine, Claudio, and 
 Juliet. 
 
 Duke. Which is that Barnardine ? 
 
 Prov. This, my lord. 
 
 Duke. There was a friar told me of this man ; — 
 Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. 
 That apprehends no further than this world. 
 And sqiwi 'st thy life according. Tlion'i t condemn'd 
 But for tliose eartlily lauits, I quit them all; 
 And pray thee, take this mercy to provide 
 
 For better tnies to come: Friar, advise him ; 
 
 I leave hiui to your hand. — What muffled fellow's 
 that? 
 
 Prov. This IS another prisoner, that I sav'd. 
 That should have died when Claudio lost his h 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MEASUIIE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 91 
 
 A^ like almost to Claudio, as himself. 
 
 [Unmujfles Claudio. 
 
 Duhe. If he be like your brother, (!/'o Isabella. 
 lor his sake 
 Is he partlon'd ; and, for yo'ir lovely sake, 
 Give me your hand, and say you will be mine, 
 He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. 
 By tliis, lord Aiigelo perceives he"s safe ; 
 JVlethinks, I see a qiiickenini; in his eye : — 
 Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: 
 Look tliat yoii love your wife ; her worth, worth 
 1 find an apt remission in myself: [yours. — 
 
 And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon : — 
 Vou, sirrah, {To Lucio.) that knew me lor a fool, 
 
 a coward. 
 One all of luxury, an ass, a madman ; 
 Wherein have 1 so dcserv'd of you. 
 That you extol me thus ? 
 
 Lucio. 'Faith my lord, I spoke it but according 
 to the trick : if you will hang me for it. you may, 
 but I iiad rather it would please you, I might be 
 whipp'd. 
 
 Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. — 
 Proclaim it, provost, round about the ciiy ; 
 li any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow, 
 (As 1 have heard him swear himself, there's one 
 \Vhom he begot with child,) let hei appear. 
 And he shall uiarry ber; tlie uuptial fiaish'd, 
 
 Let him be whipp'd and hangd. 
 
 Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry in« 
 to a whore ! Your highness said even now, 1 nMfio 
 you a duke ; good my lord, do not recompei.se -iie 
 in making me a cuckold. 
 
 Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. 
 Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal 
 Remit thy otiier forl'eits ; — 'I'ake him to prison : 
 And see our pleasure herein executed. 
 
 Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to 
 death, whipping, and hanging. 
 
 Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. — 
 She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. — 
 Joy to you, Mariana ! — love her, Angelo ; 
 I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue. — 
 Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodne 
 There's -more behind, that is more gratulate. 
 Thanks, provost, for thy care, and secrecy; 
 We shall employ thee in a worthier place :- 
 Forgive him, Angelo, tliat brought you homo 
 The head of Ragozine for Claudio's; 
 The offence pardons itself. — Dear Isabel, 
 I have a motion much imports your good : 
 Whereto, if you'll a willing ear inclme. 
 What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine ; — 
 So, bring us to our palace ; where we'll show 
 What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. 
 
 [ExtUfil. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 
 
 This p!ay may be justlv said to contain Iwo of the most Sprightly characters that Shskspeare ever drew. Tlie-^vit, 
 the hamuuris(, Ihi; gentleman, and the sildier, are rombiiied i:i Ueiiedick. I( is to be lamented, indeed, tliat the 
 (irst and most splembd of these distinctions, is disgraced by unnecessary protancness ; for the goodness of his heart 
 is hardly suditieut to atone tor the license of his tongue. The too sarcastic le\ity, which flashes oul ,n Ihe conver- 
 sation of Uenlrice, may be excused on account of llie steadiness and friendship so apparent in her behaviour, when 
 she urges her lo\er to risk his litis by a challenge to Claudio. In the conduct of the fBhle, however, there is an 
 imperfection similar to that which Dr. Johnson has poitited out in The Merry Wives of Wiiii/sur, — the second cou 
 trivance is less ingenious than the lirst :— or, to speak more plainly, tlie same incident is become stale by repetition 
 I wish some other method had been found to entrap Brairice, than that very one which before had been success- 
 fully practised on Benedick. Muck Ado Ahoxt Nulhing (as I understand from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly 
 p-issed undrr the title of Benedick and Bea rix. Heming the player received, on the I'Oih of May. Itiff. the sum of 
 foriy pounds, and twenty pounds more as his majesty's gratuity, for exhibiting six plays at flampton Court, amuiijj 
 which was this comedy. Steevetn. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DON PEDRO, Prhice of Arraqon. 
 DON JOH.V, his bastard Briither. 
 CLAUDIO, a ynniig Lord of Florence, favourite to 
 
 Dun Pedro. 
 BENEDICK, a yuiiiiii Lord of Padua, favourite likewise 
 
 vf IJon Prdro. 
 I.EONATO, Governor of Messina. 
 ANTONIO, his Broiher. 
 BALTHVZAR. Servant to Don Pedro. 
 
 ttco f 00 fish Officers. 
 
 DOGBERRY, \ 
 VEKG ES, j 
 
 A Sextun. 
 
 A Friar. 
 
 A Boy, 
 
 HERO, Daughter to L^onaln. 
 
 BEATRICE, Niece to Lronato. 
 
 tilSULA^''^' \ Gentlewomen attending on Hero. 
 
 Messengers, Watch, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Messina. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Before Leonato's House. 
 
 £H^erLEONATO, Hero. Beatkice, and others, with 
 a Messentjer. 
 
 Leon. I learn in tlii-s letter, that Don Pedro of 
 ArrRson con)e.s tlii.s nij^lit to Messina. 
 
 Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three 
 leaones oft", wlien 1 left liini. 
 
 Leon. How many gentlemen ha\-e yon lost in this 
 action ? 
 
 Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. 
 
 Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever 
 brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don 
 Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Flo- 
 rentine, called Claudio. 
 
 Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally 
 rememb'Ted by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself 
 beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the fiirnre 
 of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, 
 better bettered expectation, than you must expect 
 of me to tell you how. 
 
 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be 
 very much glad of it. 
 
 Mess I have already delivered him letters, and 
 there appears much joy in him ; even so much, that 
 joy could not show itself modest enough without a 
 badge of bitterness. 
 
 Leon. Did he break out into tears? 
 
 Mess. In great measure. 
 
 Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: there are 
 no faces truer than those that are so washed. How 
 much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at 
 weeping? 
 
 Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned 
 from the wars, or no? 
 
 Mess. I know none of that name, lady : there was 
 jione such in the army of any sort. 
 
 Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? 
 
 Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of 
 Padua. [he was. 
 
 Mess. O, he is returned ; and as pleasant as ever 
 
 Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and 
 challenged Cupid at the (light ; and my uncle's fool, 
 reading the cljallenge, subscribed tor Cupid, and 
 chdlleuyed him at tiie binl-bolt. — I pray you, how 
 many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But 
 how many hath he killed ? for, indeed, I promispd to 
 eat all of his killing. 
 
 Leon. Faith, nicce, you tax signior Benedick too 
 much ; but he'll be meet with you, 1 doubt it not. 
 
 Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these 
 wars. 
 
 Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to 
 eat ilr: he is a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an 
 excellent stomach. 
 
 Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. 
 
 Beat. And a good soldier to a lady ; — but what is 
 he to a lord ? 
 
 Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man ; sfufied 
 with all honoin'able virtues. 
 
 Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a 
 stutiVd man : but for the stutfing, — Well, we are 
 all mortal. 
 
 Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece ; there 
 is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and 
 her : they never meet, but there is a skirmish of wit 
 between them. 
 
 Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by (hat. In our last 
 conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and 
 now is the old man governed with one : so that i 
 lie have wit enough to keep himself warm, let hir. 
 bear it for a difference between hin.self and hia 
 horse ; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be 
 known' a reasonable creature. — Who is his coinpa- 
 panion now ? He hath every moutii a new svvor i 
 brother. 
 
 Mess. Is it possible ? 
 
 Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith but 
 as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the 
 next block. [book-. 
 
 Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your 
 
 Beat. No: an he were, I would burn my stii dy. 
 But, 1 pray you, who is his companion ? I^ there no 
 young squarer now, that will make a voyage with 
 him to the devil '? 
 
 Mess. He is most in the company of the right 
 noble Claudio. 
 
 Beat. O Lord! he will hang upon him like a 
 disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, 
 and the taker runs presently mad. God help the 
 nohle Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, U 
 will cost liim a thi:usand pound ere he be cured 
 
 Mess. 1 will hold iriends with you, lady 
 
 Beat. Do, good friend. 
 
 Leon. Vou will never run mad, niece. 
 fieat. No, not till a hot January. 
 
 Mess. Don Pedro is approached. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 93 
 
 Etiler Don Pedro, allendedby Balthazar and 
 others. Dun John, Claudio, and Beneuick. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good signior Leonato, you are come 
 to nirCt your trouble : the fashion of the world is to 
 avoid cost, and you encounter it. 
 
 Leon. Never came trouble to my house in tlie 
 likeness of your arace : for trouble being gone, com- 
 fort sliould reniain; l)ut, when you depart from me, 
 sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. 
 
 D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too wil- 
 lingly. — I think, this is your daughter. 
 
 Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. 
 
 Beiie. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her ? 
 
 Leon. Signior Benedick, no ; for then were you a 
 child. 
 
 D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick : we may 
 guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, 
 the lady fithers herself: — Be happy, lady! for you 
 are like an honourable father. _, 
 
 Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, shPwonld 
 not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina, 
 as like him as she is. 
 
 Beat. I wiinilf r that you will still be talking, si- 
 gnior Benedick ; nobndy marks you. 
 
 Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain I are you yet 
 living? ' . . 
 
 Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, while she 
 bath such meet food to leed it, as signior Benedick ? 
 Courtesy itselt must convert to disdain, if you come 
 in her presence. 
 
 Bene. Then is courtesy a turn-coat: — But it is 
 certain, I au) lo\ ed of all ladies, only you excepted : 
 and I would I could find in my heart, that 1 iiad not 
 a hard heart ; for, truly, I love none. 
 
 Beat. A dear happiness to women ; they would 
 else have been troubled with a jiernicious suitor. I 
 thank CJo;l, and my cold blood, Jam of your humour 
 for that ; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, 
 than a man swear he loves me. 
 
 Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind I 
 so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predesti- 
 nate scratched lace. 
 
 Beat. Sciatching could not make it worse, an 
 'twere such a iiice as yours were. 
 
 Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 
 
 Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast 
 of yours. 
 
 Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of your 
 tongue; and so good a continuer: but keep your 
 way o' God's name ; I have done. 
 
 Beat. You always end with a jade's trick ; I know 
 you of old. 
 
 D. Pedro. This is the sum of all : Leonato, — 
 signior Claudio, and signior Benedick, — my dear 
 friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him, we 
 shall stay herj at the least a mouth ; and he heartily 
 prays some occasion may detain us longer : I dare 
 swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. 
 
 Leon. If yon swear, my lord, you shall not be 
 forsworn. — Let me bid you welcome, my lord : being 
 reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you ail 
 duty. 
 
 D. John. I thank you : I am nobof many words, 
 but I thank you. 
 
 Leon. Please it your grace lead on ? 
 
 D.Pedro Your hand, Leonato; we will go to- 
 gether. [Exeunt all hut Bfnedich and Claudio. 
 
 Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter 
 of sigi ior Leonato? 
 
 Bene. I noted her not ; but I looked on her. 
 
 Claud. Is she not a modest young lady ? 
 
 Bene. Do you question me as an honest man 
 should do, for my simole true judgment ; or would 
 you have me f^peak after my custom, as being a 
 professed tyrant to their sex l 
 
 Claud. ISo, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. 
 
 Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks she is too low for 
 a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too 
 little for a great praise : only this commendation I 
 
 can afford her; that were she other than she is, she 
 were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, 
 I do not like her. 
 
 Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport ; I pray thee, 
 tell me truly how thou likest her. [her'.' 
 
 Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after 
 
 Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel ? 
 
 Bene. Yea, anti a case to put it into. But speak 
 you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flour- 
 ing Jack; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and 
 Vulcan a rare carpenter'? Come, in what key shall 
 a man take you, to go in the song? 
 
 Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady tha 
 ever I looked on. 
 
 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see 
 no such matter : there's her cousin, an she were 
 not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in 
 beauty, as the first of May doth the last of Decem- 
 ber. But I hope you have no intent to turn hus- 
 band ; have you ? 
 
 Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had 
 sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 
 
 Bene. Is it come to this, i'failh ? Hath not the 
 world one man, but he will wear his cap with sus- 
 picion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore 
 again? Go to, i'faith : an thou wilt needs thrust thy 
 neck into a yoke, wear the print ot it, and sigh 
 away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to 
 seek you. 
 
 Re-enter Don Pedro. 
 
 D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that 
 you followed not to Leonato's? [to tell. 
 
 Bene. I would, your grace would constrain nie 
 
 D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 
 
 Bene. You hear. Count Claudio: I can be secret 
 as a dumb man, I would have you think so ; but on 
 my allegiance, — mark you this, on my allegiance : 
 — he is in love. With who? — now that is your 
 grace's part. — Mark, how short his answer is: — 
 with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it utterea. 
 
 Bene. Like the old tale, my lord : " it is not so, 
 nor 'twas not so ; but, indeed, God forbid it shoidd 
 be so." 
 
 Claud. If my passion change not shortly, Gud 
 forbid it should be otherwise. 
 
 D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is 
 very well worthy. 
 
 Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 
 
 Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 
 
 Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, 
 I spoke mine. 
 
 Claud. That I love her, I feel. 
 
 />. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 
 
 Bene. That I neither feel how she should be 
 loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the 
 opinion that fire cannot melt out of me; I will die 
 in it at the stake. 
 
 D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in 
 the despite of beauty. 
 
 Claud. And never could maintain his part, but 
 in the force ot his will. 
 
 Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; 
 that she brought me up, I likewise give her most 
 humble thanks: but that I will ha\e a recheat 
 winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an 
 invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me : 
 because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust 
 any, I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the 
 fine is (for the which 1 may go the finer), I will live 
 a bachelor. [with love. 
 
 D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale 
 
 Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, 
 my lord ; not with love : prove, that ever I lose more 
 blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, 
 pick out mine eyes with a ballad- maker's pen, and 
 hang me up at the door of a brothel-house, for the 
 sign of blind Cupid. 
 
n 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Acr T. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, if ever limn dost fall from this 
 fhitli, thou wilt prove a notable argument. 
 
 Bene. If I do, han<^ me in a bottle like a cat, and 
 shoot at nie : and he t.'iat hits me, let him be clapped 
 on the shoulder, and called Adam. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try : 
 In time the savage bull doth hear the yolce. 
 
 Bene. 'I'he savage bull may; but if ever the sen- 
 sible Benedick bear it, pluck olf the bidl's horns, 
 and set them in my forehead : and let me be vilely 
 pHinted ; and in such great letters as. tiiey write, 
 Here is good horse to hire, let them signify under 
 n;y sign, — here you may see Benedick the inarried 
 wan. 
 
 Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st 
 be horn mad. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, if Cnpid have not spent all his 
 quiver in Venice, thou w'lt quake for this shortly. 
 
 Bene. I look for an earthquake too tlien. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the 
 hours. In the mean time, good signior Benedick, 
 repair to Leouato's ; conmiend rne to him, and tell 
 hiu), I will not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he 
 hath made great preparation. 
 
 Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such 
 an embassage; and so I commit you — 
 
 Cloud. To the tuition of CJod : from my house, 
 (iflhadil)— (Benedick. 
 
 D.Pedro. The sixth of July: your loving friend. 
 
 Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not: the body ol 
 your discourse is some time guarded with fragments, 
 and the guards are but sligh'ly basted on neither: 
 ere you tiout old ends any iiirther, examine your 
 conscience ; and so I leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me 
 good. ' [how, 
 
 D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach ; teach it but 
 .And thiiu shalt see how apt it is to learn 
 Any hard lesson that may do thee g(Jod. 
 
 Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? 
 
 D. Pedro. No child but fiero, she's his only heir : 
 Dost thou alVect her, Claudio? 
 
 Claud. O, my lord, 
 
 \Vlien you went onward on this ended action, 
 I lodk'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
 But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts 
 Have left their places \acant, in their rooms 
 Come tlnonging soft and delicate desires. 
 All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
 Saving, 1 lik'd her ere I went to wars. 
 
 i>. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently. 
 And tire the hearer with a book of words: 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; 
 And I will break with her, and with her father. 
 And thou shalt have her: Was'tnotto this end, 
 That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 
 
 Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love. 
 That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
 But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
 I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 
 
 D. Pfidro. What need the bridge much broader 
 than the flood ? 
 The fairest grant is the necessity : 
 Look, what will serve, is fit : 'tis once, thoa lov'st ; 
 And I will fit thee with tlie remedy. 
 I know, we shall have revelling tonight; 
 I will assume thy part in some disguise. 
 And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ; 
 And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart. 
 And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
 And strong encounter of my amorous tale : 
 Then, after, to her father will I break ; 
 And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine : 
 in practice let us put it |)resently. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Leonafo's House. 
 Enter Leonato and Antonio. 
 Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin, 
 your son''? Ha*^ lu; provided this music i' 
 
 Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can 
 tell you strange news that you yet dreamed not of. 
 
 Leon. Are they good ? 
 
 Ant. As the e\ent stamps them ; but they have » 
 good cover, they shew well outward. The princfl 
 and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley 
 in my orchard, were thus much ovcrhearfl by a man 
 of mine : the prince discovered to Claudio, that he 
 lo\ed my niece your daughter, and meant to ac- 
 knowledge it this night in a dance ; and, if he found 
 her accordant, he meant to take the present time by 
 tlie top. and instantly break with you of it. 
 
 Leon. Hath the fellow any w it, that told you this ? 
 
 Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him, 
 and question him yourself 
 
 Leon. No, no ; we will hold it as a dream, till it 
 api)ear itself: — but I will acquaint my daughter 
 withal, that she may be the better prepared for an 
 answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you, and 
 tell he^f it. [Several persons cross the stage.) 
 Cousins, you know wiiat you have to do. — O, I cry 
 you mercy, friend; you go with me, and 1 will use 
 your skill; — good cousins, have a care this busy 
 time. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — Another Room in Leonato's House. 
 Enter Don JoiiN and Conr.m>e. 
 
 Com. What the goujere, my lord ! why are you 
 thus out of measure sad ? 
 
 D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that 
 breeds it, therefore the sadness is without hmit. 
 
 Con. You should hear reason. 
 
 D. John. And, when I have heard it, what bless- 
 ing bringeth it ? [ferance. 
 
 Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient suf- 
 
 D. John. I wonder, that (hou, being (as thou 
 say'sf thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to 
 apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I 
 cannot hide what I am: I must be sad, when 1 have 
 cause, and smile at no man's jests ; eat when I have 
 stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep, when 
 I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business ; laugh 
 when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour. 
 
 Con. Yea, but you must not make the full shou 
 of this, till you may do it without controlment. 
 You have of late stood out against your brother, 
 and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace; where 
 it is impossible you should take true root, but by 
 the fair weather that you make yourself: it is need- 
 ful that you frame the sea.son lor your own harvest. 
 
 D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, 
 than a rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood 
 to be disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to 
 rob love from any : iu this, though I cannot be said 
 to be a flattering honest man, it inu.st not be denied, 
 that I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with 
 a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog ; therefore 1 
 have decreed not to sing in my cage : if 1 had my 
 mouth, I would bite ; if I had my liberty, I would 
 do my liking : in the mean time, let me be that I 
 am, and seek not to alter me. 
 
 Con. Can you make no use of your discontent '! 
 
 D. John. \ make all use of it, for I use it only 
 — Who comes here ? What news, Borachio'/ 
 
 Enter Bok.^chio. 
 
 Bora. I came yonder from a great supper ; the 
 prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leo- 
 nato ; and I can give you intelligence of an intended 
 marriage. 
 
 V. John. Will it serve for any mode! to build 
 mischief on? What is he for a fool, that betroths 
 himself to unquietness? 
 
 Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. 
 
 D. John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio? 
 
 Bora. Even he. 
 
 D. John. A proper squire ! and who, and who? 
 which way looks he? [l.,eonato. 
 
 Bora: Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of 
 
 D. John. A very forward March chick ! Mow 
 came you to this ? 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 95 
 
 Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was 
 smoking a musty room, conies me the prince and 
 Clandio, hand in hand, in sad conferent:e : I w hipt 
 me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed 
 upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, 
 and having obtained her, give her to count Clandio. 
 
 D. John. Come, come, let «s thither ; this may 
 prove food to my displeasure : that young start-up 
 hath all the glory of my overtlirow ; if I can cross 
 him any way, I bless myself every way : you are 
 both sure, and will assist me ? 
 
 Con. To the death, my lord. 
 
 D. John. Let us to the great supper ; their cheer 
 is the greater, that 1 am subdued : 'would tiie cook 
 were of my mind ! — Shall we go prove what's to be 
 done ? 
 
 Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall in Leonafo's House. 
 
 Enter Leon.4.to, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Leon. Was not count John here at supper ? 
 
 Ant. I saw him not. 
 
 Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never 
 can see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after. 
 
 Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. 
 
 Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made 
 just in the niid-way between him and Benedick : 
 the one is too like an image, and says nothing ; and 
 (he other, too like Liy lady's eldest son, evermore 
 tattling. 
 
 Leon. Then half signior Benedick's tongue in 
 count John's mouth, and half count John's melan- 
 choly in signior Benedick's face, — 
 
 Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
 and money enough in his purse, •ich a man would 
 will any woman in (he world, — if he could get her 
 good will. 
 
 Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee 
 a hu.«band, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. 
 
 Ant. In faith she is too curst. 
 
 Beat. Too curst is more than curst : I sliall les- 
 sen God's sending that way : for it is said, God 
 sends a curst covj short horns ; but to a cow too 
 curst he sends none. [no horns. 
 
 Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you 
 
 Beat. Just, if he send me no husband ; for the 
 which blessing, I am at him upon my knees every 
 morning and evening : Lord ! 1 could not endure a 
 husband with a beard on his face ; I had rather lie 
 in the woollen. [no beard. 
 
 Leon. You may light upon a husband that hath 
 
 Beat. What should I do with him ? dress him in 
 my apparel, and make him my waiting gentlewo- 
 man ? He that hath a beard is more than a youth ; 
 and he that hath no beard, is less than a man : and 
 he that is more than a youth, is not lor nie ; and he 
 that is less than a man, I am not for him : there- 
 fore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the 
 bear-herd, and lead his apes into hell. 
 
 Leon. Well then, go you into hell? 
 
 Beat. No ; but to the gate ; and there will the 
 devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on 
 his head, and say. Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get 
 you to heaven ; here's 7io place for you maids : so 
 deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for 
 the heavens: he shews me where the bachelors sit, 
 and there live we as merry as the day is long. 
 
 Ant. Well, niece {to Hero.) I trust, you will be 
 luled by your father. 
 
 Beat. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make 
 courtesy, and say. Father, as it please you : — but 
 vet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fel- 
 low, or else make another courtesy, and say. Father, 
 OS it please me. 
 
 Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day 
 Gttfd with a husband. 
 Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal 
 
 than eartli. Would it not grieve a woman io oe 
 o\er-mastered with a piece of valiant dust? to make 
 an account of her lile to a clod of waywaid luatl ? 
 No, uncle, I'll none : Adams sons are my brelluen; 
 and truly, i hold it a sin to match in my kindred. 
 
 Leon. Daughter, remeniher what I told you : if 
 the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know 
 your answer. 
 
 Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if 
 you be not woo'd in good time : if tiie prince be 
 too important, tell him, there is measure in every 
 thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me. 
 Hero; wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a 
 Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace : the tirst 
 suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as 
 fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a 
 measure full of state and ancientry ; and then comes 
 repentance, and, with his bad legs, ialls into the 
 cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his 
 grave. 
 
 Leon. Cousin, yon apprehend passing shrewdly. 
 
 Beat. I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church 
 by day-light. 
 
 Leun. The revellers are entering ; brother, make 
 good room. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, Claitdio, Benedick, B.^x,- 
 TEiAzAR ; Don John, Borachio, Margaret, 
 Ursula, and others, mashed. 
 
 D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
 friend ? 
 
 Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweedy, gnd 
 say nothing, I am yours lor the walk ; and, espe- 
 cially, when I walk away. 
 
 D. Pedro- With me in your company ? 
 
 Hero. I may say so, when I please. 
 
 D. Pedro. And when please you to say so? 
 
 Hero. When I^like your favom-; for God defend, 
 the lute should be like the case! 
 
 D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within 
 the house is Jove. 
 
 Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd. 
 
 D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 
 
 [Takes her aside.) 
 
 Bene. Well, I would yon did like me. 
 
 Marg. So would not I, for your own sake ; for.I 
 have many ill qualities. 
 
 Bene. Whicli is one ? 
 
 Marg. I say my prayers aloud. [Amen. 
 
 Bene. I loi e you the better ; the hearers may cry, 
 
 Marg. God match me with a good dancer ! 
 
 Balth. Amen. 
 
 Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when 
 the dance is done ! — Answer, clerk. 
 
 Balth. No more words ; the clerk is answered. 
 
 Urs. I know you well enough ; you are signior 
 Antonio. 
 
 Ant. At a word, I am not. 
 
 Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head. 
 
 Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. 
 
 Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless 
 you were the very man : here's his dry hand up 
 and down ; you are he, you are he. 
 
 Ant. At a word, I am not. 
 
 Urs. Come, come; do you think I do not know 
 you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself? 
 Go to, mum, you are he : graces will appear, and 
 there's an end. 
 
 Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? 
 
 Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 
 
 Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? 
 
 Bene. Not now. 
 
 Beat. That I was disdiinful, — and that I had my 
 good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales ; — Well 
 thi^ was signior Benedick that said so. 
 
 Bene. What's he? 
 
 Beat. I am sure, )-ou know him well enougii. 
 
 Bene. Not 1, believe me. 
 
 Beat. Did he never make you laugh ? 
 
 Bene. I pray you, what is he ? 
 
96 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Beat. Why, he is the prince's jester : a very dull 
 fool ; only his gilt is in devising impossible slanders : 
 none but libertines delight in him ; and the com- 
 niendatiun is not in his wit, but in his villany ; ibr 
 lie both pleasetli men and angers tliem, and then 
 they laugh at him, and beat him : I am sure he is 
 in the llt-et : I would he had boarded me. 
 
 Bene. VViien I know the gentleman, I'll tell him 
 wiiat yoii say. 
 
 Beat. Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or 
 two on me ; which, peradventnre, not marked, or 
 not lauglied at, strikes him into melancholy and 
 then there's a partridge' wing saved, Ibr the iV>ol 
 will eat no supper tliat night. {Music within.) We 
 must follow the leaders. 
 Bene. In every good thing. 
 
 Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave 
 them at the next turning. [Dance.) 
 
 [Exeunt all but Don John, Borachio, and Clauclio. 
 D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, 
 and hath withdrawn her father to break with him 
 about it : the ladies follow her, and but one visor 
 remains. [bearing. 
 
 Bora. And that is Clandio : I know him by his 
 D. John. Are not you signior Benedick? 
 Claud. You know me well ; I am he. 
 D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother 
 in his love : he is enamour'd on Hero ; I pray you, 
 dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth : 
 you may do the part of an honest man in it. 
 Claud. How know you he loves her? 
 D. John. I heard him swear his ati'ection. 
 Bora. So did I too ; and he swore he would 
 marry her to-night. 
 D. John. Come, let us to the banquet 
 
 [Exeunt Don John and Borachio. 
 Claud. Thus answer I in name of laeuedick. 
 But hear these ill news with the eiys of Clandio. — 
 'Tis certain so ; — the prince wooes lor himself. 
 Friendship is constant in all other tilings, 
 Srive in the olfice and atiairs ol' love ; 
 'i'herefoie, all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 
 Let every eye negotiate for itself, 
 And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch. 
 Against whose charms faith nielteth into blood. 
 This is an accident of hourly proof, i 
 
 Which I mistrusted not : iarewell, therefore. Hero I 
 
 Re-enter Benedick. 
 
 Bene. Count Clandio ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, the same. 
 
 Bene. Come, will yo'i go with me ? 
 
 Claud. Whither? 
 
 Bene. Eien to the next willow, about your own 
 business, count. What fashion will you wear the 
 garland of? About your neck, like an usurer's chain? 
 or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You 
 must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your 
 Hero. 
 
 Claud. I wish him joy of her. 
 
 Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover ; 
 so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince 
 would have served you thus ? 
 
 Claud. I pray you, leave me. 
 
 Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 
 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat 
 the post. 
 
 Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Bene. Alas ! poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep 
 
 into sedges. But, that my lady Beatrice should 
 
 know me, and not know me! The prince's fool ! — 
 Hal it may be, I go under that title, because I am 
 merry. — Yea; but so: I am apt to do myself 
 iMfiu^' : I ajn not so reputed : it is the base, the 
 bitter disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world 
 nto her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be 
 reveiiijed as I may. 
 
 Rti-enter Dun Pedro, Hero, and Leonato. 
 D. Pedro. Now, signior, where 's the count? 
 Did you see him ? 
 
 Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part rf 
 lady Fame. 1 found him here as melancholy as a 
 lodge in a warren; I told him, and, I think, J told 
 him true, that your grace had got the good will o! 
 this young lady ; and 1 offered him uiy company tc 
 a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being 
 forsaken, or to bind him i:p a rod, as being worthy 
 to be whipped. 
 
 D. Pedro. To be whipped ! What's his fault? 
 
 Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy ; 
 who, being overjoy 'd with finding a birds nest, 
 shews it Ills companion, and he steals it. 
 
 D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? 
 The transgression is in the stealer. 
 
 Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had 
 been made, and the garland too; for the garland 
 he might have worn himself; and the rod he might 
 have bestow'd on you, who, as I take it, have stol'u 
 his bird's nest. 
 
 D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and 
 restore tiiein to the owner. 
 
 Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my 
 faith, you say honestly. 
 
 D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to 
 you ; the gentleman, that danced with her, told 
 her she is much wronged by you. 
 
 Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of 
 a block ; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, 
 would have answer'd her; my very visor began to 
 assume life, and scold with her : she told me, not 
 thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's 
 jester ; that I was duller than a great thaw ; huddling 
 jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance, 
 upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a 
 whole army shooting at me : she speaks poniards, 
 and every word stabs : if her breath were as terrible 
 as her termination^ there were no living near her, 
 she would infectmi the north star. I would not 
 marry her, though she were endowed with ali that 
 Adam had left him before he transgressed : she 
 would have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, 
 and ha\e cleft his club to make the hre too. Come, 
 talk not of her ; you shall find her the infernal Ate in 
 good apparel. I would to God. some scholar would 
 conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here, a man 
 may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary ; and 
 people sin upon purjiose, because they would go 
 thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and per- 
 turbation follow her. 
 
 Re-enter Claudio and Beatrice. 
 
 D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 
 
 Bene. Will your grace command me any service 
 to the w orld's end ? 1 will go on the slightest errand 
 now to the Aiitijiodes, that you can devise to send 
 me on ; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the 
 farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester 
 John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's 
 beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather 
 than hold three words' conference with this harpy : 
 you have no employment for me ? 
 
 D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company 
 
 Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I can- 
 not endure my lady Tongue. [Exit 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have lost the 
 heart of signior Benedick. 
 
 Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while ; and 
 I gave him use for it, a double heart for his singl,^ 
 one : marry, once before, he won it of me W ith talse 
 dice, therefore your grace may well say, I ha\e lost it. 
 
 D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, yo;i 
 have put him down. 
 
 Bent. So I would not he should do me, my lord, 
 lest I should prove the mother of fools. I lia\e 
 brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. 
 
 J). Pedro. Why, how now, count? wherefore are 
 
 Claud. Not sad, my lord. [you sa-i? 
 
 D. Pedro. How then? Sick? 
 
 i 'land. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Beat. The count is neither sad, iior sin)., nor 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 97 
 
 merry, nor well . imt civil, tounff"; civil as an orange, 
 and sometliiii'; of tiiat jealous complexion. 
 
 D. Pedro. I'faitli, lady, I think your blazon to be 
 trde; tlioiisli, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is 
 false. Here. Claialio, I have wooed in thy name, 
 and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father, 
 and his f;ood will obtained : name the day of mar- 
 riage, and God give tliee joy I 
 
 Leoti. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
 her my fortunes ; his grace hath made the match, and 
 all grace say Amen to it ! , 
 
 Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your due. 
 
 Claud. Silence is tlie perfectest herald of joy : I 
 were but little happy, if I could say how much. — 
 Lady, as you are inme, I am yours: I give away 
 myself for you, and dote upon tlie exchang;e. 
 
 Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his 
 mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither. 
 
 D.Pedro. In iaith, lady, you ha\e a merry heart. 
 
 Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps 
 on the windy side of care : my cousin tells him in 
 his ear, that he is in her heart. 
 
 Claud. And so she doth, cousin. 
 
 Beat. Good lord, for alliance ! — Thus goes every 
 one to the woild but I, and 1 am sunburned ; I may 
 sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-ho ! for a liusband. 
 
 D, Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 
 
 Beat. 1 would ratlier have one of your father's 
 petting : hath your grace ne'er a brother like you ? 
 Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could 
 come by them. 
 
 D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? 
 
 Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another 
 for working-days : your grace is too costly to wear 
 everyday; — But, I beseech your grace, pardon me; 
 I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. 
 
 D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to 
 be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question, you 
 were born in a merry hour. 
 
 Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd ; but 
 then there was a star danced, and under tliat was I 
 born. — Cousins, God give yoii joy ! 
 
 Leon. Niece, will you Ijok to those things I told 
 you of? 
 
 Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. — By your grace's 
 [jardon. [Exit Beatrice. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. 
 
 Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in 
 her, my lord : she is never sad, but when she sleeps ; 
 and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter 
 say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness, and 
 waked herself with laughing. [band. 
 
 D.Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a hus- 
 
 Leon. O, by no means ; she mocks all her wooers 
 out of suit. I dick. 
 
 D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Bene- 
 
 Leon. G lord, my lord, if they were but a week 
 married, they would talk themselves mad. 
 
 D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go 
 to church ? 
 
 Claud. To-morrow, my lord : time goes on crutches, 
 till love have all his rites. 
 
 Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is 
 hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to 
 have all things answer my mind. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a 
 breathing ; but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time 
 shall not go dully by hs ; I will, in the interim, 
 undertake one of Hercules' labours ; which is, to 
 bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a 
 mountain of affection, the one with the other. I 
 would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to 
 fashion it, if you three will but minister such assist- 
 ance as I shall give yon direction. 
 
 Leon. My lord, 1 am for you, though it cost me 
 ten nights' watchings. 
 
 Claud. .4nd I, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? 
 Hero. I will do any modest olfice, my lord, to 
 help my cousin to a good husband. 
 
 X>. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest 
 husband that I know : thus iiir can. I praise l)im • he 
 is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and con- 
 firmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your 
 cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick : — 
 and I, with your two helps, v^ill so practise on Bene- 
 dick, that, in despite of liis quick wit and his queasy 
 stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we 
 can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer ; his glory 
 shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in 
 with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another Room in Leonato's House. 
 Enter Don JoiiN and BoRXcmo. 
 
 D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall ma 
 the daughter of Leonatp. 
 
 Bora. Yea, my lord, but 1 can cross it. 
 
 D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impedim 
 will be medicinable to me : I am «!ck in displeasure 
 him ; and whatsoever comes athwart his afTecti 
 ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross 
 marriage '? 
 
 Bora. Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly, 
 that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 
 
 D. John. Shew me briefly how. 
 
 Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since, 
 how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the wait- 
 ing-gentlewoman to Hero. 
 
 D. John. I remember. 
 
 Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the 
 night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber- 
 window, [this marriage '! 
 
 D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of 
 
 Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
 Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to teli 
 him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying 
 the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you 
 mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one 
 as Hero. 
 
 D.John. What proof shall I make of that? 
 
 Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex 
 Claudio, (o undo Hero, and kill Leonato : look you 
 for any other issue? 
 
 D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour 
 any thing. 
 
 Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw Don 
 Pedro and the count Claudio, alone: tell them, that 
 you know that Hero loves me ; intend a kind of zeal 
 both to the prince and Claudio, as — in love of your 
 brother's honour, who hath made this match; and 
 his friend's reputation, wiio is thus ;ike to be cozened 
 with the semblance of a maid, — that you have dis- 
 covered thus. They will scarcely believe this with- 
 out. trial : offer them instances; which shall bear no 
 less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-win- 
 dow ; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret 
 term me Borachio: and bring them to see this, the 
 very night before tlie intended wedding: for, in the 
 mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero 
 shall be absent; and there shall appear such seem- 
 ing truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be 
 call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown. 
 
 D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can 
 I will p't it in practice: be cunning in the working 
 this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 
 
 Bora. Be you constant in tlie accusation, and my 
 cunning shall not shame me. 
 
 D. John. I will presently go learn their day o' 
 marriage. [ExeunL 
 
 Scene III. — Leonato's Garden. 
 Enter Benedick and a Boy. 
 Bene. Boy, — 
 Boy. Signior. 
 
 Bene. In my chamber- window lies a book; bring 
 it hither to me in the orchard. 
 Boy. I am here already, sir 
 
 Bene. I know that; but I would have thee heuce, 
 and here again. [Exit Boy.] — I do much wonder, 
 that one man seeing bow much another man is a 
 
 7 
 
98 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 fool when lie dedicates his beh;iviniir.s to love, will, 
 after lie hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, 
 become the arpfiiment of'liis own scorn, by tailing in 
 love: and such a man is Claiidio. I have known, 
 when there was no music with him but the drum 
 and fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and 
 the pipe : I have known, when he would have walked 
 ten mile a-foot, to see a good armour; and now will 
 he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a 
 new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to 
 the purpose, like an honest man, and a soldier; and 
 now is he turn'd orthographer; his words are a very 
 fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. 
 May I be socon\erted, and see with these eyes? 
 I cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn, but 
 love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take 
 my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he 
 phall never make me such a fool. One woman is 
 fair; yet I am well : another is wise ; yet I am well : 
 another viituous ; yet I am well : but till all graces 
 be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my 
 grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll 
 none ; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her ; fair, or 
 I'll never look on her ; mild, or come not near me ; 
 noble, or not I for an angel ; of good discourse, an 
 excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what 
 colour it please God. Ha ! the prince and monsieur 
 Love! I will hide me in the arbour. {Withdraws.) 
 Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? 
 
 Claud. Yea, my good lord : — How still the even- 
 ing is. 
 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony ! 
 
 D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid 
 himself ? 
 
 Claud. O, very well, my lord : the music ended. 
 We'll lit the kid fox with a penny-worth. 
 
 Enter Balthazar, toith music. 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song 
 again. 
 
 Ball/i. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice 
 To slander music any more than once. 
 
 D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency. 
 To put a strange face on his own perfection: — 
 I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. 
 
 Ballh. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; 
 Since many a wooer does commence his suit 
 'I'o her he thinks not worthy : yet he wooes ; 
 Yet will he swear, he loves. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come : 
 
 Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, 
 Do it in notes. 
 
 Balth. Note this before my notes, 
 
 There's not a note of mine, that's worth the noting. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets, that he 
 Rpeaks ; 
 Note, notes, forsooth, and noting ! [Music.) 
 
 Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravished ! 
 — Is it not strange, that sheeps' guts should hale 
 souls out of men's bodies ? — Well, a horn for my 
 money, when all's done. 
 
 Balthazar sings. 
 I. 
 
 Balth Siqh no more, ladies, si'jh no more. 
 Men were deceivers ever ; 
 One foot in sea and one on shore ; 
 To one thing constant never : 
 Then siijh not so, 
 But let them go, 
 And l>e you blithe and bonny ; 
 Converting all your sounds of woe 
 Into, Hey nonny, nonny. 
 
 II. 
 
 Sing no more ditties, sing no mo 
 Of dumps so dull and heavy; 
 
 The fraud of men was ever so. 
 Since summer first was leavy. 
 Then sigh not so, §fc. 
 
 D. Pedro, By my troth, a good song. 
 
 Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. 
 
 D.Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith; thou siiigest well 
 enough ibr a shift. 
 
 Bene. (Aside.) An he had been a dog, that should 
 have howled thus, they would ha\e hanged him: 
 and, I I ray God, his bad voice bode no mischief.' 
 I had as lief have heard the niglit-ra\en, come what 
 plague could have come after it. 
 
 D. Pedro. Yi a, marry [to Claudia] ; — Dost thou 
 hear, Balthdzar? I pray thee, get us Sdme excel- 
 lent music ; for to-morrow iiit;ht we would have it at 
 the lady Hero's chamber-window. 
 
 Balth. The best I can, my lord. 
 
 D.Pedro. Do so: farewell. \Exeunt Balthazar 
 and music.} Come hither, Leonato : what was it 
 you t(i|(i me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice was 
 in love with signior Benedick? 
 
 Claud. (), ay: — Stalk on, stalk on. the fowl sits. 
 [Aside to Pedro.) 1 did never think that lady would 
 have loved any man. 
 
 Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful 
 that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom 
 she hath, in all outward behaviours, seemed ever to 
 abhor. 
 
 Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell wiiat to 
 think of it; but that she lo\es him with an enraged 
 affection, — it is past the infinite of thought. 
 
 D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. 
 
 Claud. 'Faith, like enough. 
 
 Leon. O God ! counterfeit ! There never was coun- 
 terfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as 
 she disroxers it. [she? 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shews 
 
 Claud. Bait (he hook well; this fish will bite. 
 
 [Aside.] 
 
 Leon. What efl'ecf.s, my lord ! She will sit you,— 
 Yon heard my daughter tell you how. 
 
 Claud. She did, indeed. 
 
 D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? Youamazff 
 me : I would have thought her spirit had been invin 
 cible against all assaults of aftection. 
 
 Leon. 1 would have sworn it had, my lord; espe- 
 cially against Benedick. 
 
 Bene. [Aside.) I should think this a gull, but that 
 the white-bearded ft How speaks it : knavci"y cannot, 
 sure, hide itself in such reverence. 
 
 Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to 
 Benedick? [torment. 
 
 Leon. No; and swears she never will : that's her 
 
 Claud. 'Tis true, in<leed ; so your daughter says : 
 Shall I. says she, that have so oft encountered him 
 ivith scorn, write to him that I love him? 
 
 Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to 
 write to him : for she'll be up twenty times a night ; 
 and there will she sit in her smock, till she have 
 writ a sheet of paper : — my daughter tells us all. 
 
 Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I re- 
 member a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 
 
 Leon. O ! — When .she had writ it, and was reading 
 it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between 
 the sheet? — 
 
 Claud. That. 
 
 Leon. O ! she tore the letter into a thousand half- 
 pence ; railed at herself, that she Khould be so im- 
 modest to write to one that she knew would flout 
 her : / measure him, says she, by my own spirit ; for 
 J should flout him, if he tvrit to me ; yea, though 
 I love him, I should. 
 
 Claud. Then down upon her knees .she falls, 
 weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, 
 curses : — O stveel Benedick ! God give tne patience! 
 
 Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: 
 and the ecstacy hath so much oveiborne her, that 
 my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a des- 
 perate outrage to herself: it is very true. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 99 
 
 D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of 
 it by some other, if she will not discover it. 
 
 Claud. To what end? He would make but a 
 sport of it. and torment the poor lady worse. 
 
 D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang 
 him : she's an excellient sweet lady ; and, out of all 
 saspicion, she is virtuous. 
 
 Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. 
 
 Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating 
 in so tender a body, we have ten piouts to one, that 
 bio )d hath tiie victory. I am sorry for her, as I 
 have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. 
 
 D. Pedro. 1 would she had bestowed this dotage 
 on me; I would have daflTd all other respects, and 
 made her half myself : I pray you, tell Benedick of 
 it, and hear what he will say. 
 
 Leon. Were it good, think you? 
 
 Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she 
 .says, she will die, if he love her not; and she will 
 die, ere she makes her love known ; and she will die 
 if he woo her, rather than she will 'bate one breath of 
 her accustomed crossness. 
 
 D. Pedro. She doth well : if she should make 
 tender other love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it: 
 fjr the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible 
 
 Claud. He is a very proper man. [spiiit. 
 
 D. Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind very wise. 
 
 D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, shew some sparks 
 that are like wit 
 
 Leon. And I take him to be valiant. 
 
 D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you : and in the 
 managing of quarrels you may see he is wise ; lor 
 either he avoids them with great discretion, or un- 
 dertikes them with a most Christian-like fear. 
 
 Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep 
 peace ; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into 
 a cjuarrel with fear and trembling. 
 
 D. Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man doth 
 fear God, howsoever it seems not in liim, by some 
 large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your 
 niece : shall we go see Benedick, and tell him other 
 love ? 
 
 Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it 
 out with uood counsel. 
 
 Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her 
 heart out first. 
 
 D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your 
 daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick 
 well : and I could wish he would modestly examine 
 himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a 
 lady. 
 
 Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. 
 
 Claud. If he do not doat on her upon this, I will 
 never trust my expectation. {^Aside.) 
 
 D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for 
 her; and that must your daughter and her gentle- 
 woman carry. The sport will be, when they hold 
 one an opinion of anotiier's dotage, and no such 
 matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will 
 be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call 
 him in to dinner. {Aside.) 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato. 
 
 Benedick advances from the arbotir. 
 
 Bene. This can be no trick : the conference was 
 sadly borne. — They have the truth of this from Hero. 
 They seem to pity the lady ; it seems, her ali'ections 
 have their fuU bent. Lov e me ! why, it must be re- 
 quited. I hear how I am censured : they say, I will 
 bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come 
 from her; they say too, that she will rather die than 
 give any sign of affection. — I did never think to 
 marry : — I must not seem proud : — Happy are they, 
 that hear their detractions, and can put them to 
 mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I 
 can bear them witness : and virtuous ; — 'tis so, I 
 cannot reprove it : and wise, but for loving me .— 
 
 By my troth, it is no addition (o her wit;— nor no 
 great argument of lier folly, for 1 will he horribly \a 
 love with her. — I may chance have some odd (piirks 
 and remnants of wit broken on me, because 1 have 
 railed so lung against marriage : but doth not the 
 appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, 
 that he cannot endure in his age : shall quips, and 
 sentences, and these paper bullets of the biain, awe 
 a man from the career of his humour? No : the world 
 must be peopled. When I said, I Would die a ba- 
 chelor, I did not think I should live till 1 were 
 married. — Here comes Beatrice : by tins day, she's 
 a fair lady : I do spy some marks ot love in her. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you com* 
 in to dinner. 
 
 Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 
 
 Beat. I took no more pains for tho.se thanks, than 
 you take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful, 
 1 would not have come. 
 
 Bene. You take pleasure in the message ? 
 
 Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take npon 
 a knife's point, and choke a daw withal : — You have 
 no stomach, signior ; fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Bene. Ha ! Against my will I am sent to bidyou 
 come to dinner — there's a double meaning in that. / 
 took no more pains for those thanks, than you took 
 pains to t/iunk me — that's as aiuch as to say. Any 
 pains that 1 take tor you is as easy as thanks: — If I 
 do not take pity of her, I am a villain ; if I do not love 
 her, I am a Jew : I will go get her picture. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Leonato's Garden, 
 Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. 
 
 Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour; 
 There shalt flioii find iny cousin Beatrice 
 Proposing with the Prince and Claudio : 
 Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula 
 Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 
 Is all of her; say, that tlion overheard'st us; 
 And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
 Where tioney-suckle.s. ripen'd by the sun. 
 Forbid the sun to enter; — like favourites, 
 Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
 Against that power that bred it ; — there will she hide 
 'I'o listen our ourpose : this is thy office ; Iher, 
 
 Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 
 
 Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, pre- 
 sently. _ [Exit. 
 
 Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come. 
 As we do trace this alley I'p and down. 
 Our talk must only be of Benedick : 
 When I do name him, let it be thy part 
 To praise him more than ever man did merit : 
 My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 
 Is sick in love with Beatrice : of this matter 
 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made. 
 That only wounds by hearsay. Now beginj 
 
 Enter Beatrice, behind. 
 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close by the ground, to he.ir our conference. 
 
 Urs. The pleasant'st annliiig is fo see the fish 
 Cut with her golden oars the j-ilver stream. 
 And greedily devour the treacherous bait : 
 So angle we for Beatrice; who even now 
 Is couched in the woodbine coverture : 
 Fear you not my part of the diah gue. 
 
 Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose 
 nothing 
 Of the false sweet bait, that we lay for it. 
 
 [They advance to the bower) 
 No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; 
 I know, her spirits are as coy and wild 
 As haggards of the rock. 
 
 Urs. But are you sure. 
 
100 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 That Ijenedick loves Beatrice so entirely? [lord. 
 
 Hero. So says the prince, and my iievv-trothed 
 Urs. And did tliey bid you tell her of it, niadain'i' 
 
 Hem. 'I'hey did intreat nie to acquaint her of it : 
 B tl |jersiia(ied tliem, if tliey lov'd Benedick., 
 To wisli liiin wrestle with atrection, 
 And never to let Beatrice know of it. 
 
 Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman 
 Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, 
 As ever Beatrice shiill couch upon? 
 
 Hero. O Uoil of love! 1 know, lie doth deserve 
 A.S much as may be yiel.led to a man : 
 But nature never fraiii'd a womairs heart 
 Of prouder stuff tlian that of Beatrice : 
 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes. 
 Misprising what they lo )k on; and her wit 
 Values itself so highly, that to her 
 All matter else seems weak : she cannot love. 
 Nor take no shipe nor project of affection, 
 She is so self-endeared. 
 
 Urs. Sure, Itiiinkso; 
 
 And therefore, certainly, it were not good. 
 She knew his love, lest she make spurt at it. 
 
 Hero. Why, you speak truth : I never yet s;iw man, 
 [low wise, how noble, young, how rarely featiir'd, 
 But she would spell him backward : if fair faced, 
 Slie'd swear, tiie gentleman sliouM be her sister; 
 If" black, why nature, drawing of an antic, 
 Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
 If low, an agate very vilely cut: 
 If speaking, why, a" vane blown with all wiftds ; 
 If siirnt, why a block, moved with none. 
 So turns she every man the wrong side out; 
 And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
 WhicI) sirnpleness and merit purchaseth. 
 
 Urs. Sure, sure, such carjiing is not commendable. 
 
 Hero. No: not to be so odd, and trom all fashions, 
 As B.-atrice is, cannot be commendable : 
 But wiio dare tell her so? If I should speak, 
 Sht^'cl mock me into air; O, she would langii me 
 Out of myself, press me to death with wit. 
 'I'h M-efore let Benedick, like cover'd fire. 
 Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 
 It weie a better death than die with mocks; 
 Whicli is as bad as die with tickling. 
 
 Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear wliat she will say. 
 
 Hero. No; rallicr I will go to Benedick, 
 Ami counsel iiim to fi/Jit against his passion : 
 And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
 ']\) stain my cousin with : one doth not know. 
 How much an ill word may empoison liking. 
 
 Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 
 She cannot be so much without true judgment, 
 (Having so swift and excellent a wit. 
 As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse 
 So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. 
 
 Hero. He is the only man of Italy, 
 Always excepted ray dear Glaudio. 
 
 Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, 
 Speaking my fancy; signior Benedick, 
 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour. 
 Goes foremost in report through Italy. 
 
 Hero. Indeed, he hatii an excellent good name. 
 
 Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. — 
 Wiien are you married, madam ? [in ; 
 
 Hero. Why, every day ; — to morrow : come, go 
 I'll shew thee some attires; and have thy counsel, 
 Wtiich is the best to furnish me to-morrow. 
 
 Urs She's liin'd, I warrant you; we have caught 
 her, madtm. 
 
 Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : 
 Some Gupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 
 
 [Exeunt Hero and Ursula. 
 
 Beatrice advances. 
 
 Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? 
 
 Stand I cnndemn'd for pride and scorn so much ? 
 Contempt, farewell 1 and, maiden pride, adieu I 
 
 No glory lives bfhiml the. back of such. 
 And, Benedick, love on. I will retpiite thee; 
 
 Taming ray wild heart to thy loving hand; 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band : 
 For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 
 Beheve it better than reportingly. [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and 
 Leonato. 
 
 D. Pedro. I do but stay, till your marriage be 
 consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. 
 
 Claud. I'll bring you tliither, ray lord, if you'll 
 vouchsai'e me. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in 
 the new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child 
 his new coat, and Ibrbid him to wear it. I will only 
 be bold with Benedick ibr his company; for, from 
 the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is 
 all mirth ; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow- 
 string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him : 
 he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is 
 the clapper ; for what his heart thinks, his tongue 
 speaks. 
 
 Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
 
 Leon. So say I ; methinks, you are sadder. 
 
 Claud. I hope, he be in love. 
 
 1). Pedro. Hang him, truant; there's no true drop 
 of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love : if he 
 be sad, he wants money. 
 
 Bene. I have the tooth ach, 
 
 1). Pedro. Draw it. 
 
 Bene. Hang it. [wards. 
 
 Claud. You must hang it tirst, and draw it after- 
 
 D. Pedro. What! sign for the tooth-ach? 
 
 Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm ? 
 
 Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but he 
 
 Claud. Yet say J, he is in love. [that has it. 
 
 D. Pedro. Tliere is no appearance of fancy in 
 him, unless it be a fancy that lie hath to strange dis-' 
 guises ; as, to be a Dutchman to-day ; a Frenchman 
 to-morrow ; or in the shape of two countries at <mce, 
 as, a German from the waist downward, all slops; 
 and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet : 
 unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears 
 he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have 
 it appear he is. 
 
 Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, 
 there is no believing old signs : he brushes his hat 
 o'mornings; what should that bode ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? 
 
 Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen 
 with him ; and the old ornament of his cheek hath 
 already stuffed tennis-balls. 
 
 Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by ' 
 the loss of a beard. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet: can 
 you smell him out by that? 
 
 Claud. Thai's as much as to say, the sweet 
 youth's ill love. [clioly. 
 
 D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his inelan- 
 
 (Jland. And when was he wont to wash his face i 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, 
 I he;ir what they say of him. 
 
 Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now 
 crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops. 
 
 D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him : 
 conclude, conclude, he is in love. 
 
 Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 
 
 D. Pedro. That would I know too ; I warrant, 
 one that knows him not. 
 
 Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in despite 
 of all, dies for him. (wards. 
 
 D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face up- 
 
 Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. — 
 Old signior, walk aside with me; I have studied 
 eight or nine wise words to sjieak to you, which 
 these hobby-horses must not hear. 
 
 [Exeunt BenedicK and Leonato, 
 
 D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about 
 Beatrice 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 101 
 
 Claud. 'Tis even so: Hero and Margaret have by 
 this played their jiiirts with IJfiifrice ; and then tiie 
 two bears will not bite one aiiotiier, when tiiey meet. 
 
 Enter Don John. 
 
 Don John. My lord and linither, God sa^e yoti. 
 D. Pedro. Good dt- n, brother. 
 D. John. It your leisure served, I would speak 
 D. Pedro. In pri\ate ? [with yon. 
 
 D. John. It" it ple:ise yon : — yet count Claudio may 
 hear; for what I would .speak of, concerns hiui. 
 
 D. Pedro. What'.s the tnatter? 
 
 D. John. Means your loidsliip to be married to- 
 Biorrow ? [To CUntdlo.) 
 
 D. Pedro. You know, he does. 
 
 D. John. I know not that, when he knows wliat 
 I know. [discover it. 
 
 C'lmid. It" there he any impediment, I pray you, 
 
 D. John. You may tiiink, I love you not; let tiiat 
 a))pear hereatter, and aim better at ine by tliat I now 
 will nmnilVst; for my brother, I think, he holds you 
 well; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect 
 your ensiiiiig marriage: surely, suit ill spent, and 
 labour ill bestowed ! 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, what'p the matter? 
 
 D. John. I came hither to tell you: and, circum- 
 fltances shortened (for she liath been too long a talk- 
 ing of), the lady is disloyal. 
 
 Claud. Who? Hero? 
 
 D. John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 
 every niau's Hero. 
 
 Chmd. Disloyal? 
 
 D. John. The word is too good to paint out her 
 wickedness ; I conld say, she were worse ; think you 
 of a worse title, and L "will lit her to it. Wonder 
 not, till further warrant: go but with me to-night, 
 you shall see her chamber-window entered ; even the 
 night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, 
 to-morrow wed her; but it would better tit your 
 honour to change your mind. 
 
 Claud. May this be so ? 
 
 D. Pedro. I will not think it. 
 
 D. John. If you dare not trust that yon see, con- 
 fess not tliat yon know ; if you will follow me, I will 
 slit-w you enough ; and, when you have seen more, 
 and tieard mof^e, proceed accordingly. 
 
 Claud. If I see anything to-night why I should 
 not marry her to morrow ; in the congregation, where 
 I should wed, there will I shame her. 
 
 D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, 
 I will ioin with thee to disgrace her. 
 
 D. John. I will disparage her no farther, till you 
 are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, 
 and let the issue shew itself. 
 
 D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned .' 
 
 eland. O mischief strangely thwartinpp! 
 
 D. John.. O plague right \vell prevented ! 
 So will you say, when you have seen the sequel. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene III. — A Street. 
 Enter Dogberry and Verges, ivith the Watch. 
 
 Vo(/b. Are you good men and true? 
 
 Verff. Yea, or else it were pity but they siiould 
 suffer salvation, body and soul. 
 
 Do<jb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for 
 them, if they should have any allegiance in them, 
 being chosen for the prince's watch. 
 
 Verrj. Well, give tiieni their charge, neighbour 
 Dogberry. [man to be constable? 
 
 Doqh. First, who think you the most desartless 
 
 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; 
 for they can write and read. 
 
 Do<jb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal : God hath 
 blessed you with a good name : to be a well favoured 
 man is the gift of iortune ; but to write and read 
 conies by nature. 
 
 2 Watch. Bdth which, master constable, 
 
 Doijh. You have ; I knew it would be your answer. 
 
 Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks. 
 
 and make no boast of it; and for your writing and 
 reading, let that a[)pear when there is no need of 
 such vanity. You are thought here to be the most 
 senseless and tit man for the constable of the watch ; 
 therefore bear yen the lantern : this is your charge ; 
 you shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to 
 bid any man stand, in the prince's name. 
 
 W fFatch. How if he will not stand ? 
 
 Doyb. Why, then, take no note of him, but le: 
 him go; and presently call the rest of the watcii 
 together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. 
 
 Very. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he 
 is none of the prince's subjects. 
 
 Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none 
 but the prince's subjects : — You shall also make no 
 noise in the streets ; for, for the watch to babble and 
 talk, is most tolerable and not to' be endured. 
 
 2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk ; we 
 know what belongs to a watch. 
 
 Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
 qniet watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping should 
 otfend : only have a car.^ that your bills be not stolen : 
 — Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid 
 those that are drunk get them to bed. 
 
 2 fVatch. How if they will not ? 
 
 Dorjb. Why then, let them alone till they are 
 sober ; if they make you not then the better answer, 
 you niny say, they are not the men you took them for. 
 
 2 Watch. Well, sir. 
 
 Dogb. If you meet a thief, yon may suspect him, 
 by >irtue of your office, to be no true man: and, for 
 such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with 
 them, why, the more is for your honesty. 
 
 2 Watch. If we know him to be a tliief, shall we 
 not lay hands on him? 
 
 Dogb. Tridy, by your office, you may ; but, I think, 
 they that touch pitch will be defiled : the most peace- 
 able way for )|nn, if you do take a thief, is, to l^t 
 him shew himself what he is, and steal out of yotir 
 company. [partner. 
 
 Verg. You have been always called a merciful man. 
 
 Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; 
 much more a man, who hath any honesty in him. 
 
 Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you 
 must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 
 
 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will 
 not hear ns ? 
 
 Dogb Why then, depart in peace, and let the 
 child wake her with crying: for the ewe that will 
 not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a 
 calf when he bleats. 
 
 Verg. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- 
 stable, are to present the prince's own person; if you 
 meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 
 
 Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot. 
 
 Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man 
 that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry, 
 not without the prince be willing: for, indeed, the 
 watch ought to otfend no man ; and it is an olience 
 to stay a man against his will. 
 
 Verg. By'r lady, I think, it be so, 
 
 Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good-night: 
 an there be any matter of weight chances, call up 
 me : keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and 
 good-night. — Come, neighbour. 
 
 2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge • 
 let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and 
 then all to bed. 
 
 Dogb. One word more, honest neighbours : I pray 
 you, watch about signior Leonato's door ; for the 
 wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great cojI 
 to-night: adieu, be vigilant, I be.seech you. 
 
 [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges 
 
 Enter BoR.\CHio and Conrade. 
 
 Bora. What I Conrade, — 
 
 Watch. Peace, stir not. (Aside.) 
 
 Bora. Conrade, I say ! 
 
 Con. H«;re, man, I am at thy elbow. 
 
102 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched ; I thought, 
 there would a scab follow. 
 
 Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now 
 forward with thy tale. 
 
 Bora. Stand thee close then under this pent- 
 Iionse, for it drizzles rain ; and I will, like a true 
 drunkard, utter all to tliee. [close. 
 
 Watch. (Aside.) Some treason, masters; yet stand 
 
 Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don 
 John a thousand ducats. [dear;* 
 
 Con. Is it possible tliat any villainy should be so 
 
 Bora. Thou sliould'st ratherask, it it were possible 
 any villainy should be so rich ; lor when rich villains 
 have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what 
 
 Con. I wonder at it. [price they will. 
 
 Bora. That shews, thou art unconfirmed : thou 
 knovvest, that the fasliion of a doublet, or a hat, or a 
 cloak, is nothing to a man. 
 
 Con. Yes, it is apparel. 
 
 Bora. I mean, the, fashion. 
 
 Con. Yes, the fasiiion is the fasliion. 
 
 Bora. Tusli ! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. 
 Butseest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion 
 is? 
 
 Watch. I know tliat Deformed ; he has been a 
 vile tliief this seven year; he goes up and down like 
 a gentleman : I remember his name. 
 
 Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody ? 
 
 Con. No ; 'twas the vane on the house. 
 
 Bora. Seest tliou not, I say, what a deformed 
 thief this fashi<jn is? how giddily he turns about all 
 the hot bloods, between fourteen and tive-and-thirty ? 
 sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers 
 in the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's 
 priests in the old church window ; sometime, like the 
 shavenHercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, 
 where his cod piece seems as massy as his club? 
 
 Cu7i. All this I see; and see, tiiat tlie fashion 
 wears out more appaiel than the man : but art not 
 thou thyself giddy with tlie fashion too, that tiiou 
 hast slutted out of thy tale into telling ine of the 
 fashion ? 
 
 Bora. Not so, neither: but know, that I have to- 
 niglit wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentle- 
 woman, by the name of Hero; she leans me out at 
 ner mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand 
 times gocd-uight. — 1 tell tliis tale vilely ! — I siiould 
 first tell thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my 
 master, planted, and placed, and possessed by my 
 master, Don John, saw afar olf in the orchard this 
 amiable encounter. 
 
 Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero ? 
 
 Bora. Two of them did, tlie Prince and Claudio ; 
 but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; 
 and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, 
 partly by tlie dark night, which did deceive tlieni, 
 but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any 
 slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio 
 enraged ; swore he would meet her, as he was ap- 
 pointed, next morning at the temple, and there, be- 
 ior« the whole congregation, shame her with what 
 he saw over-night, and send her home again without 
 a husband. [stand. 
 
 1 ff'atch. We charge you in the prince's name, 
 
 2 Watch. Call up tlie right master Constable: we 
 have here recovered the most dangerous piece of 
 lechery that e»er was known in the commonwealth. 
 
 1 iVatch. i^iid one Deformed is one of them; I 
 (cnow him, he wears a lock. 
 
 Con. Masters, masters. 
 
 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Con. Masters, — 
 
 1 Watch. Never speak; we charge you, let us 
 obey you to go with us. 
 
 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, 
 being taken up of tiiese men's bills. 
 
 Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. 
 Come, we'll obey you. (Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Leonato's House. 
 Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. 
 
 Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and 
 desire her to rise. 
 
 TJrs. I will, lady. 
 
 Hero. And bid her come hither. 
 
 Urs. Well. [Exit Ursula. 
 
 Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato were 
 better. 
 
 Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. 
 
 Marg. By my troth, it's not so good ; and I warrant, 
 your cousin will say so. 
 
 Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another; 
 I'll wear none but this. 
 
 Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if 
 the hair were a thought browner: and your gown's 
 a most rare fashion, i'faith. I saw the duchess of 
 Milan's gown, that they praise so. 
 
 Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 
 
 Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in 
 respect of your's : cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced 
 with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, side- 
 sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a blueish 
 tinsel : but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excel- 
 lent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. 
 
 Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart 
 is exceeding heavy ! [man. 
 
 Marg. 'Twill be heavier sood, by the weight of a 
 
 Hero. Fy upon thee ! art not ashamed ? 
 
 Marg. Of what, lady ? of speaking honourably ? 
 Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not 
 your lord honourable without marriage? I think, 
 you would have me say, saving your reverence, — a 
 husband: an bad thinking do not wrest true speak- 
 ing, I'll oft'end nobody : Is there any harm in — the 
 heavier for a husband? None, I think, an if it be 
 the right husband, and the right wife ; otherwise 'tis 
 light, and not heavy : ask my lady Beatrice else, 
 here she comes. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. Good morrow, coz. 
 
 Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. [tune ? 
 
 Hfro. W hy, how now ! do you speak in the sick 
 
 Beat. I am out of ail other tune, metliinks. 
 
 Marg. Clap us into — Light o' l^Sbe ; that goes 
 without a burden ; do you sing it, and I'll dance it. 
 
 Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels ! — 
 then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see 
 he shall lack no bams. [with my hcls. 
 
 Marg. O illegitimate construction ! I scorn that 
 
 Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis tune 
 you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill : 
 — hey ho ! 
 
 Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? 
 
 Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. 
 
 Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's 
 no more sailing by the star. 
 
 Beat. What means the fool, trow ? 
 
 Marg. Nothing I ; but God send every one their 
 heart's desire! [an excellent perfume. 
 
 Hero. These gloves the count sent nie, they are 
 
 Beat. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell. 
 
 Marg. A maid, and stuffed ! there's goodly catch- 
 ing of cold. 
 
 Beat. O, God help me ! God help me ! how long 
 have you profess'd apprehension? 
 
 Marg. Ever since you left it: doth not my wit 
 become me rarely ? 
 
 Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it 
 in your cap. — By my troth, I am sick. 
 
 Marg. Get you some of tiiis distilled Carduus 
 Benedictus, and lay it to your heart ; it is the only 
 tiling for a qualm. 
 
 Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. 
 
 Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have 
 some moral in this Benedictus. 
 
 Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I havi no moral 
 meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may 
 
Act IV. Scene I. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 108 
 
 (hiiik, perchance, that I think yon are in love : nay, 
 by'r lady, I am not .such a fool to think what 1 li.st ; 
 nor I \ixt not to think what I can; nor indeed, I 
 cannot think, if I wonM think my lieart out of 
 thinking, that yon are in love or that you will be in 
 love, or that you can be in l()ve : yt-t I enedick was 
 such another, and now is he become a man : lie 
 swore he would nevermarry -.and yetnow, in di-spite 
 of his heart, he eats his meat witliont grnd^inR : 
 and how you may be converted I kni>w not ; but me- 
 thinks. yon look with your eyes as other women do. 
 
 Jieat. What pace is thi.s. that thy tongue keeps ? 
 
 Marg. Not a i'alse gallop. 
 
 Re-enter Uksula. 
 
 Urs. Madam, withdraw ; fhe prince, the count, 
 signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of 
 the town, are cnnie to fetch yon to church. 
 
 Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, 
 good L'rsula. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Another Room in Leotiato's house. 
 
 Enter Leonato, tvith DocBtiiRY and Veuges. 
 
 Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- 
 bour? 
 
 Doyh. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence 
 %-.ith you, that decerns you nearly. 
 
 Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see. 'ti.s a busy 
 
 Do'jb. Marry, this it is, sir. [time with me. 
 
 Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 
 
 Leon. Hhat is it, my good friends ? 
 
 Do'jb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off 
 the matter : an old man, .sir, and his w tsare not .so 
 blunt, as. God help. I would desire they were ; but 
 in faith, honest, as the skin between his brows 
 
 Verg. Yes. I thauL Ood, I am as hone.st as any 
 man living, that is an old man, and no honester 
 than I. [hour Verges. 
 
 Dogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabras , neigh- 
 
 Leon. Neighbours, you arc tedious. 
 
 Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so. but we 
 are the poor duke's oHicers ; but truly, ibr mine own 
 part, if I were as tedious as a king, 1 could find in 
 tny heart to bestow it all on your worship. 
 
 Leon. All thy tedionsnesson me ! ha ! 
 
 Dogb Yea, and 'twere a ihousand times more 
 than 'tis : lor 1 hear as good exclamation on your 
 worship, as of any man in the city ; and though I 
 be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 
 
 Verg. And so am I. 
 
 Leon 1 would fain know what yon have to say. 
 
 Verg. Marry, sir. our watch to-night, excepting 
 your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as 
 arrant knaves as any in Messina. 
 
 Dogb .\ good old man, sir; he will be talking; 
 as they say, When the age is in. the wit is cut; 
 God help ns ! it is a world to see ! — Well sairl. 
 i'faith, neighbour Verges: — well, God's a good 
 man ; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride be- 
 hind : — .An honest soul, ifaith. sir, by my troth he 
 js, as e\ er broke bread : but, God is to be worshiu- 
 ped : All men are not alike ; alas, good neighbour ! 
 
 Leon. Indeed, neiglibonr, he conies too short of 
 
 i?<;i/6 Gifts, that God gives. fyo" 
 
 Leon. 1 must leave you. 
 
 Dogb One word, sir : our watch, sir, have in- 
 deed comf)rehended two auspicious persons, and 
 we would have them this morning examined before 
 your worship. 
 
 Leon. Take their examinatinn yourself, and bring 
 tme; 1 am now in great haste, as it may appear 
 
 Dogb. It shall be snffigance. [unto you 
 
 Leon. Drink some wine ere you go : fare you well. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your 
 daughter to her husband. 
 
 Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready. 
 
 [Exeunt Leonalo and Messenger. 
 
 Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis 
 Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and iiikhorn to the 
 
 gaol : we are now to examination these men. 
 Verg. And we must doit wisely. 
 Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you ; 
 here'.s i\\^i [touching his forehead] shall drive some 
 of them to a wow com: only get the learned writer 
 to set down our excommunication, and meet me at 
 the gai>l. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. — The inside of a Church. 
 
 Enter Don Pevro. Don JoHs, I.eonato, Friar, 
 Claddki, Benedick, Hero, ant^BEATiiiCE, etc. 
 
 Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief; only to the 
 plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their 
 particular duties afterwards. Ilady ? 
 
 Friar Yoa come hither, my lord, to marry this 
 
 Claud No. [marry her, 
 
 Jjeon. To be married to her. friar: you come to 
 
 Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to 
 
 Hero. I do. [this count ? 
 
 Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi- 
 ment why yon should not be conjoined, 1 charge 
 you, on your souls, to utter it. 
 
 Claud. Know you any. Hero ? 
 
 Hero None, my lord. 
 
 Friar Know you any, count ? 
 
 Leon 1 dare make his answer, none. 
 
 Claud O. what men dare do ! what men may do ! 
 wh:it men daily do ! not knowing what they do ! 
 
 Bene. How now ! Interjections ? Why, then some 
 be of laughing, as, ha ! ha! he ! [leave; 
 
 Claud. St.ind thee by, friar : — Father, by your 
 Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
 Give me thi.s maid, your daughter? 
 
 Leon As freely, son, as God did give her me. 
 
 Claud And what have I to give you back, whose 
 worth 
 May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? 
 
 U. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. 
 
 Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank- 
 There, Leonato, take her back again; [fulness. — 
 Give not this orange to your friend ; 
 She's but the sis^n and semblance of her honour : — 
 Behold, how like a maid she blushes here : 
 O, what authority and show of truth 
 Can cunning siu cover itself withal ! 
 Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, 
 'I'o witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear 
 All you that see her, that she were a maid, 
 liy these exterior shows? But she is none : 
 She knows the heat of a luxurious bed : 
 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
 
 Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? ' 
 
 Claud. iVot to be married 
 
 Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 
 
 Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, 
 Have vanquished the resistance ofheryouth, 
 And made defeat of her virginity 
 
 Claud. I know what jou would say; If I have 
 known her. 
 You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, 
 .\nd so extenuate the 'forehand sin : 
 No, Leon:ito, 
 
 1 never tempted her with word too large ; 
 But. as a brother to his sister, show'd 
 Bashful sincerity, and comely love. 
 
 Hero And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ? 
 
 Claud. Onton thy seeming ! 1 will write against it 
 You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; 
 As chaste as is the bud, ere it be blown ; 
 But you are more intemperate in your blood 
 Than N'enus, or those pamper'd animals 
 That rage in savage sensuality. 
 
 Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? 
 
 Leon Sweet prince, why speak not vou ? 
 
 D Pedro What should 1 speak ? 
 
 I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about 
 To link my dear friend to a common stale. 
 
 Leon. Are these things !>uukeu'!' ordui but dream? 
 
104 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 D. John. Sir, tliey are si-oken, and these fhiriss 
 fire true. 
 
 Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. 
 
 Hero. True, O God I 
 
 C'nud. Leonato, stand I here? 
 Is this the prince ? Is tiiis the prince's brother? 
 Is tliis face Hero's ? Are our eyes our own ? 
 
 Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord ? 
 
 Claud. Let nie bui move one question to your 
 daughter ; 
 And, by that fatherly and kinrfly power 
 J'hat you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
 
 Leon. I charue thee do so, as thou art my child. 
 
 Hero. O God defend me ! how am I beset ! — 
 What kind of catechising call you (his ? 
 
 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. 
 
 Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blut tiiat name 
 With any just reproach ? 
 
 Claud. Marry, that can Hero ; 
 
 Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
 What man was he talk'd with you ye.sternipht 
 Oat at your window, betwixt twehe and one i 
 Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 
 
 Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. — 
 Leonato, 
 I am sorry you must hear : upon mine honour, 
 Myself, my brother, and t^is srieveil count, 
 Did see her, hear her, at that hour last ni>;ht, 
 'i'aik with a niifian at her chamber-window ; 
 Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
 Confess'd the vile encounters they have had 
 A thousand times in secret. 
 
 D.John. Fy, fy! (hey are 
 
 Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; 
 There is not chastity enough in language, 
 Without offence, to utter them: thus, jjretty lady, 
 I am sorry for (hy much misgovernmeiit. 
 
 Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, 
 If half thy outward graces had been placed 
 About tliy thoughts, and counsels of (hy lieart ! 
 But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair: farewell, 
 Thou pure impiety, and impious purity! 
 For (hee Ml lock up all (he gates of love, 
 And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, 
 To turn all beauty into tlioughts of harm. 
 And never shall it more be gracious. 
 
 Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? 
 
 [Hero swoons) 
 
 Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore sink 
 you down ? [thus to liglit, 
 
 D. John. Come, let ns go : these things, come 
 Smother her spirits up. 
 
 [Exemil Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudia. 
 
 Bene. How doth the lady ? 
 
 Beat. Dead, 1 think ; — help, uncle: — 
 
 Hero! why. Hero! — Uncle! — Signior Benedick! — 
 friar! 
 
 Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy hand ! 
 Death is the fairest cover for her shame. 
 That may be wish'd for. 
 
 Beat. How now, cousin Hero ? 
 
 Friar. Have comfort, lady. 
 
 Leon. Dost thon look up? 
 
 Friar. Yea ; wherefore should she not ? 
 
 Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every eartiily 
 Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny [thing 
 The story that is printed in her blood ? — 
 Do not live. Hero; d(^ not ope thine eyes : 
 For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 
 Thoueiit I thy spirits were stronj'er than thy shames, 
 My-iclf would, on the rearward ot reproaches, 
 Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one ? 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? 
 O, one too much by (hee ! Why had I one ? 
 Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 
 Why had 1 not with charitable hand, 
 Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ; 
 Who smirched thus, and mired wi(h infamy, 
 ' might have said. No part of it is tnine. 
 
 This shame derioes if self from nnhnoivn loins '' 
 Bii( mini', arul mine I lo\ 'd, and mine ! prais'd 
 And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much 
 That 1 myself was to myself not mine 
 Valuing of her; why, slie — O, she is fallen 
 Into a pit of ink ! (hat tiie wide sea 
 Ha(h drops too few (o Mash her clean again; 
 And salt too li((le, which may season give 
 To her fuul tainted flesh ! 
 
 Bene. Sir, sir, be patient: 
 
 For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
 I know notwhat to say. 
 
 Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! 
 
 Bene. Lady, were, yon her bedfelioiv last night 
 
 Beat. No, truly, not ; although, until last night, 
 I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
 
 Leon. Confiriii'd, confirni'd ! O, that is strongei 
 made. 
 Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! 
 Would (he two princes lie ? and Claudio lie? 
 Who lov'd her so, that speaking of her fbuln'ess 
 Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die. 
 
 Friar. Hear me a little ; 
 For I have only been silent so long. 
 And gi\en way unto this course ot fortune, ^ 
 By noting oldie lady: I have mark'd 
 A thousan<l blushing apparitions start 
 Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
 In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; 
 And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
 'I'o burn the errors, that tlfese princes hold 
 Against her maiden truth: — Call me a fuol; 
 Trust not my reading, nor my observations. 
 Which with experimental seal doth warran.. 
 The (enour of my book ; trust not my age. 
 My reverence, calling, nor divinity. 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
 Under some biting error. , 
 
 Leon. Friar, it cannot be : 
 
 Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left 
 Is, that she will not add to her daniiiati(»n 
 A sin of perjury ; she not denies it : 
 Why seek'st (lion then to rover with excuse 
 That which appears in proper nakedness ? 
 
 Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? 
 
 Hero. 'I'hey know, that do accuse me ; I know 
 If I know more of any man alive, [none; 
 
 Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant. 
 Let all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father, 
 Prove you, that any man with me conversd 
 At hours unmeet, or (hat I yesternight 
 Rlaintain'd (he change of words with any creature, 
 lieluse me, liafe me, torture me to death. 
 
 Friar. There is some strange misprision in tb* 
 princes. 
 
 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour 
 And if their wisdoms be misled in this. 
 The practice of it lives in John the bastard. 
 Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies. 
 
 Leon. I know not: If they speak but truth of her. 
 These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her ho- 
 The proudest of (hem shall well hear of it. [nour. 
 Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine. 
 Nor age so eat up my invention. 
 Nor fortune made such havoc of my means. 
 Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends. 
 But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind. 
 Both strength of limb, and policy of mind. 
 Ability in means, and choice of friends. 
 To quit me of them throughly. 
 
 Friar. ' Pause a while. 
 
 And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
 Your daughter here the princes left fiir dead ; 
 Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 
 And publish it, that she is dead indeed : 
 Maintain a mourning ostentation; 
 And on your family's old monument 
 Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites 
 That appertain unto a burial. [tiiis do ? 
 
 Leon. What shall become of this ? 
 
 [this do ? 
 What WiW 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MUCH x\DO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 105 
 
 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her 
 heliulf 
 Change slander tit remorse ; that is some good : 
 But not lor that dream I on this strange course, 
 But on this travail look for greater birth. 
 She dying, as it mnst be so maintain'd. 
 Upon the instant tliat she was accus'd, 
 Shall be lamented, [litied, and exciisd, 
 Ot e\ery hearer: lor it so falls out, 
 That what we have we prize not to the worth. 
 Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, 
 Why, then we rack the Value, then we hiid 
 The virtue, that possession woulil not show us 
 Whiles it was ours. So will it tare with Claudio: 
 When he shall hear she died upon his words, 
 The idea of her lite shall sweetly creep 
 Into his study ol' imagination; 
 And every lovely organ ot" her life 
 Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 
 More moving-delicate, and full of life, 
 Into the eye and prospect ot his soul. 
 Than when she liv'd indeed : — then shall he mourn, 
 (It e\ er lo\e had interest in his liver,) 
 And wish he had not so accused her; 
 No, though he thought his accusation true. 
 Let this be so, and doubt not but success 
 Will fasiaon the event in better shape 
 Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
 But if all aim but this be levell'd false. 
 The supposition of the lady's death 
 Will quench the wonder of her infamy : 
 And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her 
 
 iAs best betils her wounded reputation,) 
 n some reclusive and religious life. 
 Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. 
 
 Bene. Siguiur Leonato, let the friar advise you : 
 And though, you know, my inwardness and love 
 Js very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
 l^'et. by mine honour, I will deal in this 
 As secretly, and justly, as your seul 
 Should with your body. 
 
 Leun. ' Being that I fiow in grief. 
 
 The smallest twine may lead me. 
 
 Friar. 'Tis well consented ; presently away ; 
 For to strange aores strangely they strain the 
 cure. — 
 Come, lady, die to live; this wedding day. 
 
 Perhaps, is hut prolong'd ; ha\e patience, and 
 endure. [Exeunt Friar, Hero, and Leonato. 
 
 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this 
 while ? 
 
 Beat. Yea. and I will weep a while longer. 
 
 Bene. I will not desire that. 
 
 Beat. Von have no reason, I do it freelj'. 
 
 Bene. Surely, I do believe your lair cousin is 
 wrong'*!. 
 
 Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of 
 me. that would right her! 
 
 Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship ? 
 
 Beat. A very even wav. but no such friend. 
 
 Bene. May a man do it? 
 
 B ■at. It is a mans office, but not yours. 
 
 Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as 
 you , is not that strange ';■ 
 
 Bfat. As strange as the thing I know not : it 
 were as possible liir me to say, I lo\ed nothing so 
 well as you: but believe me not; and yet 1 he not; 
 I confess mithiiig, nor I deny nothing: — 1 am sorry 
 for my cousin. 
 
 Beiie. Hy my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 
 
 Beat. t)i) not swear by it, and eat it. 
 
 Bene. I will swe.ir by it, that you love me; and 
 I will mnke liiui eat it, that >ays, 1 love not you. 
 
 Beat. Will you not eat your word? 
 
 Bene. With no a.ince tliat can be df vised to it: 
 I protest, I love thee. 
 
 Beat. Why then, God forgive me ! 
 
 Bene. Wliat offence, sweet Beatrice? 
 
 Beat. Y<m hue staid me in a iiajipy hour; I was 
 about to protest, [ loved you. 
 
 Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 
 
 Beat. I l()\e you with so much ot my heart, that 
 none is lett to protest. 
 
 Bene. Come, bid ine do any thing for thee 
 
 Beat. Ivill Chiu ho. 
 
 Bene. Ha I not lor the wide world. 
 
 Beat. Yon kill me to deny it: Farewell. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. I am gone, though 1 am here ; — There is 
 no love in you : — Nay, I pray you, let me go. 
 
 Bene. Beatrice, — 
 
 Beat. Ill faith, 1 will go. 
 
 Bene. We'll be iriends first. 
 
 Beat. Vou dare easier be friends with me, than 
 tight with mine enemy. 
 
 Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ? 
 
 Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, 
 that hath slandered, scorned, dishououied my kins- 
 woman '? — O, that I were a man ! — W^hat I bear her 
 in baud until they come to take hands, and then, 
 with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmiti- 
 gated raiiC(Mir, — O God, that I were a man ! I would 
 eat his heart in the market place. 
 
 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice ; — 
 
 Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ? — a pro- 
 
 Bene. Nay, but Beatrice ; — Iper saying. 
 
 Beat. kSweet Hero! — she is wronged, she is slan- 
 
 Bene. Beat — [dered, she is undone. 
 
 Beat. Princes, and counties ! Surely, a princely 
 testimony, a goodly count-confect ; a sweet gallant, 
 surely 1 O, that I were a man lor his sake , or that 
 1 had any friend woidd be a man for iny sake ! But 
 manhood is melted into coiirteses, valour into com- 
 pliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and 
 trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules, that 
 only tells a lie, and swears it: — I cannot be a man 
 with wishing, therefore 1 will die a woman with 
 grieving. [love thee. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice : By this band, I 
 
 Beat. Use it tor my love some otlier way than 
 swearing by it. [hath wronged Hero ? 
 
 Bene. Think you in your soul the count Claudio 
 
 Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul. 
 
 Bene, linough, I am engaged, I will challenge 
 him; I will kiss your hand, and so lea\e you: by 
 this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. 
 As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort 
 your cousin : I must say, she is dead : and so, fare- 
 well. \Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — A Priaon. 
 
 Enter Dogbekry, Verges, (7nt/ Sexton, in tjotvns , 
 and the Watch, luith Conrade and Borachio. 
 
 Dof/b. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 
 
 Very. O, a stool and a cushion tor the sexton ! 
 
 Sexton. Which he the malefactors':' 
 
 Doyh. Marry, that am I and my partner. 
 
 Very. Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition 
 to examine. 
 
 Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be 
 examined 1 let them come before master constable. 
 
 Doyb. Yea, marry, let them come before me. ~ 
 What is your name, friend ? 
 
 Bora. Borachio. 
 
 Doyb. Pray write down — Borachio. Yours, 
 
 sirrali t (Conrade. 
 
 Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is 
 
 Doyb. Writedown — master gentleman Conrade 
 — Masters, do you serve God :* 
 
 Con. Bora. Yea, sir, we hope. 
 
 Doyb. Write down — that tliey hope they serve 
 God: — and write God first; for God deleiid but 
 God should go before such villftins I — .Masters, it is 
 (iro\ed already that you aie little better than false 
 knaves ; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. 
 How answer you lor youisehes f 
 
 Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. 
 
 Doyb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; 
 but 1 will go about with him. — Come you hitherj 
 
106 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 airrah ; a word in your ear, sir; I say to you, it is 
 thought you are false knaves. 
 
 Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. 
 
 Do'jb. Well, stand aside. — Fore God, they are 
 both in a tale : have you writ down — that they are 
 none ? 
 
 Sexton. Master constable, you go not the way to 
 examine ; you must call forth the watch, that are 
 their accusers. 
 
 Dogb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let 
 the watch come forth: — Masters, I charge you, in 
 the prince's name, accuse these men. 
 
 1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the 
 prince's brother, was a villain. 
 
 Dogb. Write down — prince John a villain: — 
 Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother — 
 
 Bora. Master constable, — [villain. 
 
 Dogb, Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not like 
 i\\y look, I promise thee. 
 
 Sexton. What heard you him say else ? 
 
 2 Watch. Marry, that he had received a thou- 
 sand ducats of Don John, for accusing lady Hero 
 wrongfully. 
 
 Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 
 Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is. 
 Sexton. VVIiat else, fellow? 
 
 1 Watch. And that count Claudio did mean, 
 upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole 
 assembly, and not marry her. 
 
 Dogb. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into 
 »verlasting redemption for this. 
 Sexton. What else ? 
 
 2 Watch. Tills is all. 
 
 Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can 
 deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 
 away ; Hero was in this manner accused, in this 
 very manner refused, and upon the grief of this, 
 suddenly died. — Master constable, let these men 
 be bound, and brought to Leonato's ; I will go be- 
 fore, and shew him their examination. [Exit. 
 
 Dogb. CoTne, let them be opinioned. 
 
 Verg. Let them be in band. 
 
 Con. Otf, coxcomb ! 
 
 Dogb. God's my life! where's the sexton? let 
 him write down — the prince's officer, coxcomb. — 
 Come, bind tliem : Thou naughty varlet! 
 
 Con. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. 
 
 Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost 
 thou not suspect my years ? — O that he were here 
 to write me down — an ass ! but, masters, remem- 
 ber, that I am an ass; though it be not written 
 dovvn, yet forget not that I am an ass : — No, thou 
 villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved 
 upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow ; 
 and, which is more, an officer ; and, which is more, 
 a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a 
 piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that 
 knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, 
 go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one 
 that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome 
 about him : — Bring him away. O, that I had been 
 writ down — an ass ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene L — Before Leonato's House. 
 Enter Leonato and Antonio. 
 
 Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself ; 
 And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief 
 A^inst yourself. 
 
 Leon.' I pray thee, cease thy counsel. 
 
 Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
 As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear. 
 But such a one, whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
 Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child. 
 Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, 
 And bid hiui speak of patience ; 
 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine. 
 And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
 As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 
 
 In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke liis beard : 
 Cry — sorrow, wag ! and hem, when he should 
 
 groan ; 
 Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk 
 With candle-wasters : bring him yet to me. 
 And 1 of him will gather patience. 
 But there is no such man : for, brother, men 
 Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 
 Which they themselves not feel ; but, testing it. 
 Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
 Would give preceptial medicine to rage. 
 Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
 Charm ach with air, and agony with words: 
 No, no; 'tis ail men's office to speak patience 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow ; 
 But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency. 
 To be so moral, when he shall endure 
 The like himself; therefore give me no counsel : 
 My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 
 
 Ant. Therein do men from children nothinsf 
 differ. [blood ; 
 
 Leon. I pray thee, peace ; I will be flesh and 
 For there was never yet philosopher, 
 That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ; 
 However they have writ the style of gods. 
 And made a pish at chance and sufterance. 
 
 Ant. Yet bend not all the harm uuon yourself ; 
 Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. 
 
 Leon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will do 
 My soul doth tell me, Hero is belied ; [so : 
 
 And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince. 
 And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro and Claudio. 
 
 Ant. Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good den, good den. 
 
 Claud. Good day to both of you. 
 
 Leon. Hear you, my lords, — 
 
 D. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 
 
 Leon. Some haste, my lord . — well, fare you 
 well, my lord : — 
 Are you so hasty now? — well, all is one. 
 
 D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good 
 old man. 
 
 Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling. 
 Some of us would lie low. 
 
 Claud. Who wrongs him ? 
 
 Leon. Marry, 
 
 Thou, thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler, thou : — 
 Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
 I fear thee not. 
 
 Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand. 
 
 If it should give your age such cause of fear : 
 In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 
 
 Leon. Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at 
 I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; (me : 
 
 As, under privilege of age, to brag 
 What I have done being young, or what would do. 
 Were I not old : Know, Claudio, to thy head, 
 Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and nae. 
 That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ; 
 And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days. 
 Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
 I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child ; 
 Thy slander hath gone through and through her 
 And she lies buriied with her ancestors : [heart, 
 
 O ! in a tomb where never scandal slept. 
 Save this of her's, fram'd by thy villainy. 
 
 Claud. My villainy ! 
 
 Leon. Thine, Claudio ; thine, I say. 
 
 D. Pedro. You say not right, old man. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, 
 
 I'll prove it on his body, if he dare ; 
 Despite his nice fence, and his active practice. 
 His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 
 
 Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you 
 
 Leon. Canst thou so daft" me ? Thou hast kill'd 
 my child ; 
 If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 107 
 
 Ant. He snail kill two of us, and men indeed ; 
 But that's no matter; let him kill one first; — 
 Win me and wear me, — ifc him answer me ; - 
 Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me : 
 Sir boy, I'll whip you from yonr foining fence ; 
 Nay, as f am a gentleman, I will. 
 
 Leon. Brother, — [niece ; 
 
 Ant. Content yourself: God knows, 1 lov'd my 
 And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains. 
 That dare as well answer a man, indeed. 
 As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
 Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops ! — 
 
 Leon. Brother Antony, — 
 
 Ant. Hold you content; What, man! I know 
 them, yea, 
 And what they weia;h, even to the utmost scruple : 
 Scambling, out-facing, fashion- raong'ring boys, 
 lliat lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander. 
 Go anticiy, and shew outward hideousness, 
 And sneak oft' half a dozen dangerous words, 
 How tney might hurt their enemies, if they durst. 
 And this is all. 
 
 Leon. But, brother Antony, — 
 
 Atit. Come, 'tis no matter ; 
 
 Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. 
 
 1). Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake 
 your patience. 
 My heart is sorry for your daugiiter's death ; 
 But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing 
 But what was true, and \ ery full of proof. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, — 
 
 1). Pedro. I will not hear you. 
 
 Leon. No ? 
 
 Brother, away : — I will be heard ; — 
 
 Ant. And shall. 
 
 Or some of us will smart for it. 
 
 [Exeunt Leunato and Antonio. 
 
 Enter Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. See, see ; here comes tlie man we 
 went to seek. 
 
 Claud. Now, signior ! what news ? 
 
 Bene. Good day, my lord. 
 
 D. Pedro. Welcome, signior : You are almost 
 come to |)art almost a fray. 
 
 Claud. We had like to have had our two noses 
 snapped oft" with two old men w^itliout teeth. 
 
 D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother : What think'st 
 thou ? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have 
 been toi> young for them. 
 
 Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. 
 I came to seek you both. 
 
 Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee ; 
 for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain 
 have it beatt-n away : Wilt thou use thy wit ? 
 
 Bene. It is in my scabbard ; shall 1 draw it ? 
 
 D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by tliy side ? 
 
 Claud. Neier any did so, though very many ha\e 
 been beside their wit. — I will bid thee draw, as we 
 do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. 
 
 D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks 
 pale : — Art thou sick, or angry? 
 
 Claud. What ! courage, man I What thou";h care 
 killed a cut, thou hast mettle enough in taee to 
 kill care. 
 
 Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an 
 you charge it against me : — I pray you, choose 
 another subject. 
 
 Claud. Nay, then give him another stafl": this 
 last was broke cross. 
 
 D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and 
 mne'; I think, he be angry indeed. 
 
 Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 
 
 Bene. Sliall I speak a word in your ear ? 
 
 Claud. G.)d bless me fion) a challenge ! 
 
 Bene. You are a villain; I jest not: — I will 
 make it good how you dare, with what you dare, 
 and when you dare : — Do me right, or I will pro- 
 test your cowardice. You have killed a sweet 
 
 lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you : Let 
 me hear from vou. f good cheer. 
 
 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have 
 
 D. Pedro. What, a feast ? a feast ? 
 
 Claud. I'faith, I thank him ; he hath bid roe to 
 a calf's head and a capon, the which if I do not 
 carve most curiously, say my knife's naught. — Shall 
 I not find a woodcock too ? 
 
 Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 
 
 D. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy 
 wit the other day : I said, thou hadst a fine wit; 
 True, says she, a fine little one : No, said I, a great 
 wit ; Right, says she, a yreal gross one : Nay, said 
 I , a good wit ; Just, said she, it hurts no body : Nay, 
 said I, the gentleman is wise ; Certain, said she, « 
 wise gentleman : Nay, said I, he hath the tongues; 
 That, I believe, said she. /or he swore a thing to vie 
 on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesda-y 
 morning; there's a double tongue; there's two 
 tongues. Thwfi did she, an hour together, trans-shajie 
 thy particular virtues: yet, at last, she concluded 
 with a sigh, thou wast the prdperest man in Italy. 
 
 Claud. For the wiiich she wept heartily, and 
 said, she cared not. 
 
 D. Pedro. Yea, that she did ; but yet, for all 
 that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would 
 love him dearly : the old man's daughter told us all. 
 
 Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him 
 ivhen he ivas hid in the garden. 
 
 D.Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's 
 horn on the sensible Benedick's head ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, and text underneath. Here dwells 
 Benedick the married man '! 
 
 Bene. Fare ynu well, boy ; you know my mind ; 
 I will leave you now to your gossip like humour: 
 you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which, 
 God be tliaiiked, hurt not. — My lord, for your 
 many courtesies I thank you : 1 must discontinue 
 your company : your brother, the bastard, is fled 
 from INlessina : you have, among you, killed a sweet 
 and innocent lady : For my lora Lack-beard, there, 
 he and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with 
 him. {Exit Benedick. 
 
 D. Pedro. He is in earnest. 
 
 Claud. In most profound earnest ; and, I'll war- 
 rant yoti, for the luve of Beatrice. 
 
 D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee ? 
 
 Claud. iMost sincerely. 
 
 D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he 
 goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves oft" his wit! 
 
 £»^er Dogberry, Verges. rt»(/</<e Tf'atch, with 
 CoNRADE and Boraciuo. 
 
 Claud. He is then a giant to an a. e ; but then is 
 an ape a doctor to snch a man. 
 
 D. Pedro. But, so(t you, let be; pluck up, my 
 heart, and be sad ! Did he not .say, my brother 
 was fled ? 
 
 Dogb. Come, you, sir; if justice cannot tame 
 you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her 
 balance : nay. an you be a cursing hypocrite once, 
 you must be looked to. 
 
 D. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men 
 bound ! Borachio, one ! 
 
 Claud. Hearken after their oft'ence, my lord .' 
 
 D. Pedro. Ofiicers, what oft'ence have these men 
 done ? 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re- 
 port ; moreover, they have spoken untruths; se- 
 condarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they 
 have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified un- 
 just things, and, to conclude, they are lying knaves, 
 
 D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; 
 thirdly, I ask thee what's their otfence ; sixth and 
 lastly, why they are committed ; and, to conclude, 
 what yon lay to their charge ? 
 
 Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division , 
 and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited. 
 
 D. Pedro. Whom tiave you oft'ended, masters, 
 that you are thus bound to your answer i this 
 
108 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 learned constable is too cunning to be understood : 
 VV hat s your offence ? 
 
 Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no further to 
 mine answer; do you bear nie, and let this count 
 .till nie. I have deceived even your very eyes : 
 what your wisdoms could not discover, tliese 
 shallow Cools have brought to li^lit; who, in the 
 night, overheard nie confessing to this, man, how 
 Don John, your brother, incensed me to slander the 
 lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, 
 ancl saw nie court Margaret la Hero's garments; 
 how you disgraced her, when you should marry 
 her : my villainy they have upon record ; which I 
 had rather seal with my death, than repeat over to 
 my shame : the lady is dead u|)on mine and my 
 master's false accusation : and, briefly, I desire 
 uothirig but the reward of a villain. 
 
 JJ. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through 
 
 your blood ^ 
 Claud. I have drunk poison, whiles he nttered it. 
 I). Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this ? 
 Bora. Yea, anil paid me richly lot the practice of it. 
 D. Pedro. He is compos'd and frani'd of trea- 
 And fled he is upon this villainy. [chery: — 
 
 Claud. Sweet Hero ! now tiiy image doth appear 
 In the rare semblance that-I loved it first. 
 
 Do'jb. Come, bring away the plaintifl's ; by this 
 time our sexton hath reformed signior Leonato of 
 the matter : and, masters, do not forget io specify, 
 when time and jjlace shall serve, that 1 am an ass. 
 Verij. Here, here comes master signior Leonato, 
 and the sexton too. 
 
 Re-enter Leonato and Antomo, tvith the Sexton. 
 Leon. VVliich is the villain .^ Let me see hiseyes ; 
 That, when I note another man like him, 
 I may avoid him : Which of these is he'/ 
 Bora. If you would know your wronger, look 
 
 on me. 
 Leon. Art thou the slave, that \)iiVa thy breath 
 Mine innocent child ? [hast kill'd 
 
 Bora. Yea, even I alone. 
 
 Leon, No, not so, villain ; thou bely'st thyself; 
 Here stand a pair of honourable men, 
 A third is fl d, that had a hand in it : — 
 I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death; 
 Record it witii your high and worthy deeds ; 
 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 
 
 Claud. I know not how to pray your patience, 
 Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge yourself; 
 Impose me to what penance your invention 
 Can lay upon my siu : yet sinn'd I not, 
 But in mistaking. 
 
 D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I ; 
 
 And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
 I would bend under any heavy weight, 
 That he'll enjoin me to. 
 
 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live. 
 That were impossible ; but I pray you both, 
 Possess the people in Messina here 
 How innocent she died : and, if your love 
 Can labour aught in sad invention. 
 Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, _ 
 And sing it to her bones ; sing it to-night: — 
 To-morrow morning come you to my house ; 
 And since you could not be my son in law, 
 Be yet my nephew : my brother hath a daughter. 
 Almost tiie copy of my child that's dead. 
 And she alone is heir to both of us ; 
 Give her the right you should have given her cousin. 
 And so dies my revenge. 
 
 Claud. O, noble sir, 
 
 Your over kindness dith wring tears from me ! 
 I do embrace your offer; and dispose 
 For liencif irtli of poor Claudio. [ing ; 
 
 Leon. I'l. -morrow then 1 will expect your com- 
 To-iiight I take my leaie. — Tliis naiiglity man 
 Shall fice to face be brought to Mmgaret, 
 Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong, 
 Hir'd to It by your brother. 
 Bora, No, by my soul, she was not ; 
 
 Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me ; 
 But always hath been ju^ and virtuous. 
 In any thing that I do know by her. 
 
 Dorjb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not under 
 white and black.) this plaintiff here, the offender, 
 did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered 
 in his punishment : And also, the watch heard them 
 talk of one Deformed : they say, he wears a key in 
 his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows mo- 
 ney in God's name ; the which he hath used so long, 
 and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, 
 and will lend nothing for God's sake : pray you, ex- 
 amine him upon that point. 
 
 Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 
 
 Do(jb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful 
 and re\erend youth ; and I praise God for you. 
 
 Leon. There's for thy pains. 
 
 Dorjb. God save the foundation ! [I thank thee. 
 
 Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and 
 
 Dogb. 1 leave an arrant knave with your worship ; 
 which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, 
 lor the example of others. God keep your worship; 
 I wish your worship well ; God restore you to health: 
 I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry 
 meeting may be wished, Goa prohibit it. — Come, 
 neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch. 
 
 Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. 
 
 Ant. Farewell, my lords; we look for you to- 
 
 D. Pedro. We will not fail. [morrow. 
 
 Claud. To night I'll mourn with Hero. 
 
 [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio. 
 
 Leon. Bring you these fellows on ; we'll talk with 
 Margaret, 
 How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow- 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Leonato' s Garden. 
 Enter Benedick and Margaret, tneeting. 
 
 Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, dis- 
 serve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech 
 of Beatrice. |of my beauty ? 
 
 Marg. Will yon then write me a sonnet m praisf 
 
 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man 
 living shall come over it; for, iu most comely truth, 
 thou deservest it. 
 
 Marg. To have no man come over me ? why, -shall 
 I always keep below stairs'/ 
 
 Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's 
 mouth; it catches. [which hit, but hurt not. 
 
 Marg. And your's as blnnt as the fencer's foils. 
 
 Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not 
 hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I 
 give thee the bucklers. [our own, 
 
 Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers o^ 
 
 Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in 
 the pikes with a vice ; and they are dangerous wea- 
 pons for maids. 
 
 Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I 
 think, hath legs. [Exit. 
 
 Bene. And therefore will come. 
 
 The god of love, (Singing.) 
 
 That sits above. 
 And Icnotvs me, and knoivs me, 
 How pitiful I deserve, — 
 I mean, in singing; but in loving, — Leander the goocl 
 swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and 
 a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, 
 whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a 
 blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned 
 over and over as my poor self, in love: Marry, I 
 cannot shew it in rhyme ; I have tried ; I can find out 
 no rhyme to lady biit baby, an innocent rhyme ; for 
 scorn, horn, a hard rhyme ; for school, fool, a bub- 
 bling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, 1 was not 
 born undei a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in 
 festival terms. 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I calletl 
 thee'/ 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 109 
 
 Jieat. Yea, sigiiior, and depart when vou bid me. 
 
 Beni;. (), stay but till tlien! 
 
 Bent. Then is spoken ; fare you well now : — and 
 yet, ere 1 so, let nie go with tliat I came for, which 
 IS, with kiiowiijfj what hath passed between you and 
 Clandio. [thee. 
 
 Bene. Only foul words ; and thereupon I will kiss 
 
 Beat. Foul words is but (bul wind, and foul wind 
 is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; there- 
 fore I will depart unkissed. 
 
 Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right 
 sense, so forcible is thy wit : but I must tell thee 
 ulainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge ; and either 
 1 must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe 
 him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for 
 which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love 
 with me ? 
 
 Beat. For them all together; wliich maintained 
 so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any 
 good part to intermingle with them. But for which 
 of my good parts did you first sutier love for me ? 
 
 Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do sutier 
 love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. 
 
 Beat. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas ! poor 
 heart ! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for 
 Tours ; for I will never love that vrhich my friend 
 Lates. 
 
 Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. 
 
 Beat. It appears not in this confession ; there's not 
 one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. 
 
 Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, tiiat lived 
 in the time of good neighbours : if a man do not erect 
 iu this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live 
 no longer in monument than the bell rings, and the 
 widow weeps. 
 
 Beat. An I how long is that, think you ? 
 
 Bene. Question? — Why, an hour in clamour, and 
 a quarter in rheum : therefore it is most expedient 
 for the wise, (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no 
 impediment to the contrary,) to be the trumpet of his 
 own virtues, as I am to myself: So much for praising 
 myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise- 
 worthy,) and now tell me. How doth your cousin ? 
 
 Beat. Very ill. 
 
 Bene. And how do you? 
 
 Beat. Very ill too. 
 
 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend : there will 
 I leave you too, for here comes one in haste. 
 
 Enter Ursul.\. 
 
 Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle ; 
 vender's old coil at home : it is proved, my lady Hero 
 nath been falsely accused, the prince anil Claudio 
 mightily abus'd : and Don John is the author of all, 
 who is fled and gone : will you come presently V 
 Beat. Will you go hear this news, signiori' 
 Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in tliy lap, and 
 be buried in thy eyes ; and, moreover, I will yo \\\t\\ 
 thee to thy uncle's. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The Inside of a Church. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, ajid Attendants, with 
 music and tapers. 
 
 Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? 
 
 Alien. It is, my lord. 
 
 Claud. (Reads fro7n a scroll.) 
 
 Done to death by slanderous ton/jues. 
 
 Was the Hero that here lies : 
 Death, in guerdon of her ivronijs. 
 
 Gives her fame, which never dies: 
 So the life that died ivith shame. 
 Lives in death uith (jlorious fame. 
 
 Hany thou there vpo7i the tomb, (affixing it.) 
 Praisinrj her when I am dumb. — 
 
 Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Pur don. Goddess of the nii/ht. 
 Those that sleiv thy virgin knight ; 
 
 For the which, with songs of woe. 
 Round about her tomb they go. 
 Midnight, assist our moan; 
 Help us to sigh and groa?i. 
 
 Heavily, heavily : 
 Graves, yawn, and yield your dead. 
 Till death be ut tered, 
 Heavily, heavily. 
 
 Claud. Now mito thy bones gooil night ! 
 
 Yearly will 1 do tliis rite. 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters ; put your 
 torches out; fday 
 
 The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle 
 Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
 
 Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray . 
 Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. 
 Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several 
 way. [weecis ; 
 
 D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on o^ier 
 And then to Leonato's we will go. 
 
 Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue 
 speed's, 
 Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe I 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Leonato's House. 
 
 Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, 
 Ursula, Friar, and Hero. 
 
 Friar. Did T not tell you, she was innocent ? 
 
 Leon. So are the prince and Clandio, wlio accused 
 Upon the error that you heard debatel : [her 
 
 But Margaret was in some fault for this; 
 Although against her will, as it appears 
 In the true course of all ttie question. 
 
 A7it. Well, 1 am glad that all things sort so well. 
 
 Bene. And so am I, being else by faith eufbrc'd 
 To call young Claudio to a reckoning for if. 
 
 Leon. VVell, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, 
 Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; 
 And, when I send for you, come hillier mask'd : 
 'i'he prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour 
 To visit nie : — You know your office, brutiier; 
 Y^ou must be father to your brother's daughter. 
 And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies. 
 
 Ant. Which I will do witb confirm'd countenance. 
 
 Betie. Friar. I must entreat your pains, 1 think. 
 
 Friar. To do what, signior'? 
 
 Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them. — 
 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 
 Your niece regards me with an eye of favour, [true. 
 
 Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis most 
 
 Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
 
 Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from me, 
 From Claudio and the piince ; but what's your wiH'' 
 
 Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: 
 But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
 May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd 
 In the estate of honourable marriage; — 
 In which, good friar, I shall desire yoar help. 
 
 Leon. My heart is with your liking. 
 
 Friar. And my help. 
 
 Here comes the prince, and Claudio. 
 
 Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants, 
 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. 
 
 Leon. Good morrow, prince ; — good morrow, 
 Claudio : 
 We here attend you : are you yet determin'd 
 To-day to n)arry with my brother's daughter? 
 
 Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. 
 
 Leon. Call her forth, brother; here's the friar 
 ready. [Exit Antonio. 
 
 D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick : why, what's 
 the matter. 
 That you have such a February face. 
 So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? 
 
 Claud. I think, he thinks upon the sa-. aae bull :— 
 Tush, feiir not, man, we'll tij) thy horns with gold. 
 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee : 
 As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
 
110 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 When he would pliiy the nolilo beast in love. 
 Bene. Hull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; 
 Ami some such si range bull leap'd your iatiier's cow, 
 And g;ot a calf in that same noble feat, 
 Much like to you, for you have just his b'.eat. 
 
 Re-enier ANTONIO, ivith the ladies mashed. 
 
 Claud. For this I owe yon : here come other 
 reckonings. 
 Which is the lady I must seize unon? 
 
 Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. 
 
 Claud. Why, then she's mine : sweet, let me see 
 your iaoe. 
 
 Leon. No, tliat yon shall not, till you take her hand 
 IJeliire this friar, and swear to marry her. 
 
 Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar; 
 I am your husband, if you like of me. 
 
 Hero. And when I lived, I was youi other wife : 
 .And vviien you loved, you were my other husband. 
 
 Claud. Another Hero? [Unmaskinrj. 
 
 Hero. Nothing certainer: 
 
 Oiie Hero died defil'd; but I do live. 
 And, surely as I live, I am a maid. 
 
 D. Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero, that is dead ! 
 
 Leoji. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander 
 lived. 
 
 Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; 
 When, after that the holy rites are ended, 
 I'll tril you largely of fair Hero's death: 
 Meantime, let wonder seem familiar. 
 And to the chai)el let ns presently. 
 
 Bene. Soft and fair, friar. — Which is Beatrice ? 
 
 Beat. I answer to that name; {unmasks.) What 
 is your will ? 
 
 Bene. Do not you love me ? 
 
 Beat. No. no more than reason. 
 
 Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and 
 (^laudio. 
 Have been deceived: for they swore you did. 
 
 Bt:at. L)o not you love me? 
 
 Bene. No, no more than reason. 
 
 Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, 
 Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did. 
 
 Bene. 'J'hey swore, that you were almost sick for 
 me. Ifor me. 
 
 Beat. 'I'hey swore that you were well-nigh dead 
 
 Bene. 'Tis no such matter : — Then, you do pot 
 lo\e ine? 
 
 Beat. N>>, truly, but in friendly reconipensf . 
 
 Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gea- 
 tleman. 
 
 Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her 
 For here's a paper, written in his hand, 
 A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 
 Fashion'd to Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. And here's another. 
 
 Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket. 
 Containing her affection unto Benedick. 
 
 Bene. A miracle ! here's our own hands against 
 our hearts ! — Come, I will have thee ; but, by this 
 light, I take thee for |iity. 
 
 Beat. I would not deny you; But, by this good daj 
 I yield npon great persuasion ; and, partly, to save 
 your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. 
 
 Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. {Kiss/ny her.) 
 
 D. Pedro. How dost thou. Benedick, the married 
 man ? 
 
 Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit- 
 crackers cannot flout me out of my humour : dost tlmn 
 think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ? No : if a man 
 will be beaten wth brains, he shall wear nothing 
 handsome about him : in brief, since I do purpose to 
 marry, I will think nothing to any purpose, tliat the 
 world can say against it; and therefore i;e\er tlout 
 at me for what 1 have said against it; for man is a 
 giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. — For thy 
 l)art, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in 
 that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unl)ruised, 
 and love my cousin. 
 
 Claud. 1 had well hoped, thou wouldst have de- 
 nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out 
 of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer ; 
 whicii, out of question, thou wilt be, if ray cousin do 
 not look exceeding narrowly to thee. 
 
 Bene. Come, come, we are friends : — let's have a 
 dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our 
 own hearts, and our wives' heels. 
 
 Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards. 
 
 Bene. First, o' my word^ therefore, play, music. — 
 Prince, thou art sad ; get thee a wife, get thee a wife : 
 there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with 
 horn. 
 
 Enter a Messenr/er. 
 
 j\Iess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight. 
 And brought with armed men back to Messina. 
 
 Bene. Tliink not on him till tii-morrow ; I'll devise 
 thee brave punishments for him. — Strike ii]), pipers. 
 
 [ Dance. — Exeunt 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Wild and fanlaslical as this play is, all the parts in llieir various modes are well written, and give the kind 
 of pleasure which the author desgned. Fairies in his time were much in fashion; common tradition had mada 
 (hem ('ami;iar, and Spencer's poem had made them great. 
 
 J(*Aiisvfi, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 "HESEOS, Duke of Athens. 
 
 EGEUS. Father to Hermia. 
 
 LYSANDER,— DEMETKIUS— iH love jvilh Hermia. 
 
 rHJIiOSTKATK, Master of the Revels to Theseus. 
 
 yU[NCE. the Carpenter. 
 
 SNUG, the Joiner. 
 
 BOTTOM, the Weaver. 
 
 I'LUTE, the BelliM's-mender. 
 
 SNOUT, the Tinker. 
 
 STAUVELING, the Tailor. 
 
 Hli'i'OLYTA. Queen uf the Amazons, betrothed to 
 
 Theseus. 
 HF.RMfA, Dcnighter to Egeits, in love with Lysander. 
 HKLEMA.m lu've with Demetrius 
 
 OBERON, King of the F'riries. 
 TITANIA, Queen if the Fairies. 
 PL'CK. or Robin GoudJ'elimo, a Fairy. 
 PEAS BL0SS03I, ^ 
 
 MOTH, > tairies. 
 
 MUSTARD SEED, ) 
 Pt/ramus, \ 
 
 Wall ' > f^^'^fc'^ters in the Interlude f erf ormed 
 
 Moonshine, | *J' '** <^'<'"'"*- 
 
 hion, J 
 
 Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. 
 Attendants on Theseus a>td Hippvlyta. 
 
 ScKNE, — A thens, and a Wood not far frotn it. 
 
 ACT r. 
 
 Scene \.-~Athens. A Room in the Palace of 
 Theseus. 
 
 Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour 
 Draws on apace ; four happy days bring: in 
 Aiiotlier moon : but, oh, niethinks, how slow 
 Tuis old inoou wanes ! she lingers my desires, 
 i^iive to a step-dame, or a dowager, 
 \,Mvi witlieriiig out a young man's revenue. 
 
 Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in 
 nights ; 
 I'ljiir nifhts will quickly dream away the time; 
 \ .il theu the moon, like to a siher bow 
 Ne\vbeut in heaven, shall behold the uJght 
 Ui iiiir solemnities. 
 
 The. Go, Philostrate, 
 
 Stir Uj) the Athenian youth to merriments ; 
 Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ; 
 Turn melancholy forth to funerals. 
 The pale companion is not for our pomp — 
 
 [Exit Philostrate. 
 Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, 
 \nd won thy love, doing thee injuries ; 
 Hut I will wed thee in another key. 
 With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. 
 
 Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and 
 Demetk lUS . 
 
 E'je. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! 
 
 The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news 
 with thee ? 
 
 Efje. Full of vexation come I, with complaint 
 Against my child, my daughter Hermia. — 
 Stand forth, Demetrius ; — my noble lord. 
 This man hath my consent to marry her : — 
 Stand forth, Lysander; — and, my gracious duke. 
 This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child : 
 Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes. 
 And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : 
 'i'hou hast by moon-light at her window sung, 
 With fe'gning voice, verses of feigning love ; 
 And stolen the impression of her fantasy 
 With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits. 
 Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats ; messengers 
 Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth : 
 With cunning hast thou lilch'd my daughter's heart; 
 Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me. 
 To stubborn harshness : — And, my gracious duke, 
 He it so she will not here before your grace 
 Consent to marry with Demetrius, 
 I beg the ancient privilege of Alliens; 
 As she is mine, 1 may dispose of her : 
 
 VVhich shall be either to this gentleman. 
 Or to her death ; according to our law. 
 Immediately provided in tliat case. [maid : 
 
 The. What say you, Hermia ? be advised, fair 
 I To you your father should be as a god ; 
 One that compos'd your beauties ; yea, and one 
 To whom you are but as a form in wax. 
 By him imprinted, and within his power 
 To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 
 Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. 
 
 Her. So is Lysander. 
 
 The. _ In himself he Is: 
 
 But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice. 
 The other must be held the worthier. 
 
 Her. I would my father look'd but with my 
 eyes. [look. 
 
 The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment 
 
 Her, I do entreat your grace to pardon me. 
 I know not by what power I am made bold ; 
 Nor how it may concern my modesty 
 In such a presence here to plead my thoughts : 
 But I beseech your grace, that I may know 
 The worst that may befall me in this case. 
 If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 
 
 The. Either to die the death, or to abjure 
 For ever the society of men. 
 Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires. 
 Know of your youth, examine well your blood. 
 Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice. 
 You can endure the livery of a nun ; 
 For aye to be in shady cloister niew'd. 
 To live a barren sister all your life. 
 Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
 Thrice blessed they, that master .so their blood. 
 To undergo such maiden pilgrimage : 
 But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd. 
 Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn. 
 Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 
 
 Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord. 
 Ere i will yield my virgin patent up 
 Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
 My soul consents not to give sovereignty. [raoon, 
 
 The. Take time to pause ; and, by the next new 
 (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me. 
 For everlasting bond of fellowship.) 
 Upon that day either prepare to die, 
 For disobedience to your father's will: 
 Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would: 
 Or on Diana's altar to protest. 
 For aye, austerity and single life 
 
 Detn. Relent, sweet Hermia; — And, Lysander 
 Thy crazed title to my certain right. [yield 
 
 Lys. Vou have her father's love, Demetrius, 
 Let nie have Hermia's : do you marry him. 
 
 Eye. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my lov«; 
 
112 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 And what is mine my love shall render him ; 
 And she is mine ; and all my right of her 
 I do estate unto Demetrius. 
 
 Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he. 
 As well possess'd ; my love is more than his ; 
 My fortunes every way as fairly rank d. 
 If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; 
 And, which is more than all these boasts can be, 
 I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia: 
 Why should not 1 then prosecute my right ? 
 Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, 
 Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, 
 And won her soul ; and she, sweet lady, dotes. 
 Devoutly dotes, dutes in idolatry. 
 Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 
 
 The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, 
 And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; 
 But, being over-i'idl of self-affairs. 
 My mind did lose it. — But, Demetrius, come; 
 And come, ligeus ; you shall go with me, 
 I have some private schooling for you both. — 
 For you, fair Hermia, look yuu arm yourself 
 To fit your fancies to your lather's will; 
 Or else the law of Athens yields you up 
 (Which by no means we may extenuate,) 
 To death, or to a vow of smgle life. — 
 Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love? 
 Demetrius, and Egeus, go along : 
 I must employ you in some business 
 Against our nupti d ; and confer with you 
 Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. 
 Ege. With duty and desire we follow yuu. 
 
 [Exeunt T/ies. Hip. Eye. Dem. and train. 
 Lys. How now, my love ? Why is your cheek 
 so pale ? 
 How chance tlie roses there do fade so flist? 
 
 Her. Belike, for want of rain; which I could 
 ^yell 
 Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. 
 
 Li/s. Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history, 
 The course of true love never did run smooth: 
 But. either it was different in blood ; — 
 Her. O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low ! 
 Lys. Or else misgralfed, in respect of years ; — 
 Her. O spite! too old to be engaged to young! 
 Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends ; — 
 Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eye ! 
 Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
 War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it ; 
 Making it momentary as a sound, 
 Ssvift as a shadow, short as any dream; 
 Brief as the lightning in the collied night. 
 That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. 
 And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! 
 'J'he jaws of darkness do devour it np : 
 So quick bright things come to confusion. 
 
 Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd. 
 It stands as an edict in destiny : 
 Then let us teach our trial patience. 
 Because it is a customary crctss ; 
 As due to love, as thoughts and dreams, and sighs. 
 Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers. 
 
 Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, 
 I have a widow aunt, a dowager [Hermia. 
 
 Of great revenue, and she hath no child : 
 From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; 
 And she respects me as her only son. 
 There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ; 
 And to that |)lace the sharp Athenian law 
 Cannot pursue us: if thou lov'st me then. 
 Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; 
 And in the wood, a league without the town. 
 Where I did meet thee once with Helena, 
 To do observance to a morn of May, 
 There will I stay for thee. 
 
 Her. My good Lvsander ! 
 I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow; 
 By his best arrow with the golden head; 
 By the simplicity of Venus' doves; 
 
 By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves- 
 And by that lire, which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
 When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; 
 By all the vows that ever men have broke. 
 In number more than ever women spoke; — 
 In that same place thou hast appointed me. 
 To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. [Helena. 
 Lys. Keep promise, love : Look, here comes 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Her. God speed fair Helena ! Whither away? 
 Hel. Call you me fair! that fail again unsay, 
 Demetrius loves your fair: O, happy fair! 
 Your eyes are load-stars; and your tongue's sweet 
 More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, [air 
 
 When wheal is green, when hawthorn-buds apjiear. 
 Sickness is catching ; O, were favour so ! 
 Your's would I tatch, fair Hermia, ere I go ; 
 My ear shoidd catch your voice, my eye your eye. 
 My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. 
 Were the vvorld mine, Demetrius being bated, 
 The rest I'll give to be to you translated. 
 O, teach me how you look ; and with what art 
 Yon sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. 
 Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
 Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles 
 
 such skill ! 
 Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
 Hel. O, that my prayers could such afi'ection 
 
 move ! 
 Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. 
 Hel. The niore I love, the more he hateth me 
 Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 
 Hel. None, but your beauty; would that fault 
 
 were mine ! 
 Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face, 
 Lysander and myself will fly this place. — 
 Before the time I did Lysander see, 
 Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: 
 O then what graces in my love do dwell. 
 That he hath turn'd a heaven into hell ! 
 
 Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold : 
 To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold 
 Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
 Decking with liquid pearl the bladt^d grass, 
 (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) 
 Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. 
 Her. And in the wood, where often you and I 
 Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie. 
 Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet. 
 There my Lysander and myself shall meet: 
 And thence, from Athens, turn away our eye?. 
 To seek new friends and stranger companies. 
 Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us. 
 And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! — 
 Keep word, Lysander : we must starve our sight 
 From lovers' food, till morrow deep midniglit. 
 
 [Exit Hermia. 
 Lys. I will, my Hermia. — Helena, adieu: 
 As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! [Exit Lys. 
 
 Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be 1 
 Tiirough Athens I am thought as fair as she. 
 But what of that? Demetruis thinks not so; 
 He will not know what all but he do know. 
 And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes. 
 So I, admiring of his qualities. 
 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
 Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
 Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
 And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : 
 Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; 
 Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste : 
 And therefore is Love said to be a child. 
 Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
 As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
 So the boy Love is perjur'd every where : 
 For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne. 
 He haii'd down oaths, that he was only mine ; 
 And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
 So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 113 
 
 will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight : 
 Then to the wood will he, to-morrow eight, 
 Piirsiie lier: and for this intelligence. 
 If I have thanks, it is a dear expence: 
 Rut herein mean I to enrich my pain. 
 To have his sight thither, and back again. ^ Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — T/te same. A Room in a Collage. 
 
 Enter Snug, Bottom. Flute, Snout, Quince, 
 
 and Starveling. 
 
 Quin. Is all our company here ? 
 
 Bot. You were best to call them generally, man 
 by man, according to the scrip. 
 
 Quin. Here is th;; scroll of every man's name, 
 which )s thought fit, through all Athens, to play in 
 our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his 
 wedding-day at night. 
 
 Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play 
 treats on ; then read the names of the actors; aud 
 so grow to a point. 
 
 Quin. Marry, our play is — The most lamentable co- 
 medy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. 
 
 Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, 
 and a merry. — Now, good Peter Quince, call forth 
 your actors by the scroll :— jVlasters, sjnead your- 
 selves, [weaver. 
 
 Quin. Answer as I call you. — Nick Bottouj, the 
 
 Bot. Heady : Name what part I am for, and 
 proceed. [ramus. 
 
 Quin. You, IS'ick Bottom, are set down lor Py- 
 
 liot. VViiat is PyrauuisV a lover, or a tyrant? 
 
 Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly 
 for love. 
 
 Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- 
 forming of it: if I do it, let the audience look to 
 their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in 
 some measure. To the rest: — \ et my chief humour 
 is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part 
 to tear a cat in, to make all split. 
 
 " The raging rocks, 
 
 " WHlh shivering shocks, 
 
 " Shall break the locks 
 
 " Of prison-gates : 
 " And Piiibbiis' car 
 " Shall shine from far, 
 " And make and mar 
 
 " The foolish fates." 
 
 This was lofty ! — Now name the rest of the players. 
 — This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is 
 more condoling. 
 
 Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. 
 
 Flu. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quin. You mu.st take Thisby on you. 
 
 Flu. What is Thisby ';' a wandering knight'? 
 
 Quin. I( is the lady that Pyramus must love. 
 
 Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I 
 have a beard coming. 
 
 Quin. That's all one ; you shall play it in a mask, 
 and you may speak as small as you will. 
 
 Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby 
 too: 111 speak in a monstrous little voice ; — Tkisne, 
 T/iisne — Ah, Pyranms, my lover dear ; thy Thisby 
 dear! and lady dear ! 
 
 Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus; and Flute, 
 
 Bot. Well, proceed. [yoii Thisby. 
 
 Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 
 
 Ofar. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quin. Robin Starveling, yon must play Tliisby's 
 mother. — Tom Snout, the tinker. 
 
 Sno'til. Here, Peter Quince. 
 
 Quin. You, Pyramus's father; mvself, Tliisby's 
 fatiier; — Snug, the joiner, you the lion's part: — 
 and, I hope, here is a play fitted. 
 
 Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, 
 if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. 
 
 Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is noCliing 
 but roaring. 
 
 Bot. Li-t me pl;iy the tiim too : I will roar, that 
 
 will do -iny man's heart good to bear me ; I will 
 
 roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar 
 again. Let him roar again. 
 
 Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would 
 fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would 
 shriek ; and that were enough to hang us all. 
 
 All. Tiiat would hang us every mother's son. 
 
 Fot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright 
 the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more 
 discretion but to hang us : but I will aggravate mv 
 voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any suck- 
 ing-dove ; I will roar you an 'twere any night, 
 ingale. 
 
 Quin. You can play no part but Pyramos : for 
 Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man as 
 one shall .see in a simimer'.s day; a most lovely, 
 gentleman-like man ; therefore you must needs play 
 Pyramus. 
 
 Bot. Well, I will undertake il. What beard were 
 I best to play it in '? 
 
 Quin. Why, what you will. 
 
 Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- 
 coloured beard, your orangc-tawny beard, your 
 purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-co- 
 loured beard, your perfect yellow. 
 
 Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair 
 at all, and then you will play bare faced. — But, 
 masters, here are your paits: and I am to entreat 
 you, request you, and desire you, to con them by 
 to-morrow night ; and meet nie in the palace woo(i, 
 a mile wilhout the town, by moon-iight ; there will 
 we rehearse : for if we meet in the city we shall be 
 dogg'd with company, and otn- devir ps known. In' 
 tlie mean time J will draw a bill of properties, such 
 as our play waiit.--. I pray you, fail me not. 
 
 Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse 
 more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be 
 perfect ; adieu. 
 
 Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. 
 
 Bot. Enough ; hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 1 — A Wood near Athens. 
 Enter a Fairy at one door and Puck at another 
 Pud: How now, spirit ! v^hither wander you ? 
 Fai. Over hill, over dale, 
 
 Thorough busli, tlicrough brier. 
 
 Over park, over pale, 
 
 Thorough flood, thorough fire, 
 
 I do wamler every where. 
 
 Swifter than the moones sphere ; 
 
 And I serve the fairy queen, 
 
 'i'o dew her orbs upon the green : 
 
 The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; 
 
 In their gold coats spots you see ; 
 
 Tho.se be rubies, faiiy favours: 
 
 In those freckles live their savours : 
 I must go seek some dew-drops here. 
 And iiang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
 Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone; 
 Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 
 
 Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night ; 
 Take heed, the queen come not within his sight 
 For Oberon is nassing iell and wrath, 
 Becau.se that sne. as her attendant, hath 
 A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king; 
 She never had so sweet a changeling : 
 Andjealons Oberon wouldhave the child 
 Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild : 
 But she, peifcuce. withholds the loved boy ; 
 Crowns him with llowers, and umkes him all her jo« • 
 And now they never meet in grove, or green, 
 By fountain clear, or spangled slar-light sheen, 
 Biit tliey do square; that all their elxes, for fear. 
 Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there. 
 
 Fai. Eitlier I mislake yoNrsiiaiie and makingquit« 
 Or elsp you n.-e that shrewd atid knavish sprite, 
 Cali'd Robin CJoodfeilow: are you not he. 
 That fright the maidens of the villagery ; ^ 
 Skim nnlk ; and SDUietiines labour in the qu<-rn. 
 And bootless make the breathless housewife chum 
 
114 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 nd sometime make the drink to bear no barm ; 
 Mislead niglit- wanderers, laughing at their harm? 
 Those that llobj;obhn call you, and sweet Puck, 
 V'ou do their work, and tiiey shall have good luck : 
 Are not you he i 
 
 Puck. Tliou speak'st aright ; 
 
 I am that merry wanderer of t!ie night. 
 I jest to Oberou, and make him smile, 
 VVIien I a tat and bean-fed horse beguile. 
 Neighing in likeness of a filly l-oal : 
 And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl. 
 In very likeness of a roasted crab ; 
 And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob. 
 And on her withcr'd dew-tap pour tlie ale. 
 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale. 
 Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; 
 Then slip 1 from her bum, down topples she. 
 And tailor cries, and falls into a co\igh ; 
 And then the whole quire hold tiieir hips, and lotfe ; 
 And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear, 
 A merrier liour was never wasted there. — 
 But room, Faery, here comes Oberon. 
 
 Fat. And here my mistress : — Would that he were 
 gone! 
 
 Scene II. — Enter Oberon, at one door, toiih his 
 train, and '1 itania, at another, with hers. 
 
 Ohe. Ill met by moim-light, proud Titania. 
 
 'Vita. What, jealous Oberon? Faiiy, skip hence ; 
 I have forswoiu his bed and company. 
 
 Obe. Tarry, rash wanton ; Am nut 1 thy lord ? 
 
 'Vita. Then I must be thy lady : but I know. 
 When thou hast stol'ii away from fairy land. 
 And in the shape of Corin sat all duy. 
 Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love 
 To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here. 
 Come Irom the farthest steep of India? 
 but that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
 Vour buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love. 
 To Theseus must be wedded ; and you couie 
 'I'o give their bed joy and prosperity. 
 
 Ohe. How canst thou thus, tor sliame, Titania, 
 Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
 Knoaing I know thy love to Tlieseus ? 
 Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering 
 From Perigenia, whom he ravished? (night 
 
 And make him with fair iligie break his faith. 
 With Ariadne, and Antiopa? 
 
 Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : 
 .\nd never, since the middle summer's spring. 
 Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, 
 By pa\ ed fountain, or by rushy brook. 
 Or on the beached margent of the sea. 
 To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
 But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 
 Therelore the winds, piping to us in vain. 
 As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
 Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land, 
 Have every pelting river made so proud, 
 'That they have overborne their continents ; 
 The ox liath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, 
 The ploughman lost his sweat ; and the green corn 
 Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard : 
 The fold stands empty in the drowned field. 
 The crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; 
 The nine men's morris is fill'd up with luud; 
 And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, 
 Por lack of tread, are nndistinguishable ; 
 1 he human mortals want their winter here; 
 ^o night is now with hymn or carol blest : — 
 rherefore the moon, the governess of Hoods, 
 Pale in her anger, washes all the air, 
 That rheumatic diseases do abound : 
 And thorough this distemperature, we see 
 The seasons alter; hoary- headed frosts 
 Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 
 And on old Hyem's chin, and icy crown. 
 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
 Is, as ill mockery, set : the spring, the summer, 
 The chilling aiitiiinn, angry winter, change 
 
 Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world. 
 By their increase, now knows not which is which* 
 And this same progeny of evils comes 
 From our debate, from our dissension ; 
 We are their parents and original. 
 
 Ohe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in joii : 
 VVhy should Titania cross her Oberon ? 
 I do but beg a little changeling boy. 
 To be my henchman. 
 
 Tita. Set your heart at rest, 
 
 The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
 His mother was a vofress oi iiiy order: 
 And, ill the spiced Indian air, by night. 
 Full olteu hath she gossip'd by my side ; 
 And sat with me m\ Neptune's yellow sands, 
 iVIarkiiig the embarked traders on the flood; 
 When we have huigli'd to see the sails conceive. 
 And grow big bellied, with the wanton wind: 
 Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, 
 (Following her womb, then rich with my young 
 Would imitate ; and sail upon the land, [squire,) 
 
 To letch me trifles, and return again, 
 As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. 
 But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; 
 And, for her sake, 1 do rear up the hoy ; 
 And, for her sake, I will not part with him. 
 
 Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay? 
 
 Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' wedding-day. 
 If you will patiently dance in our round 
 And see our moon- light revels, go with us ; 
 if not, shun me, and 1 will spare your haunts. 
 
 Obe. Give me tliat boy, and 1 will go with thee. 
 
 Tita. Not for thy kinndom. Fairies, away : 
 We shall chide downright, il I longer stay. 
 
 lExeiint Titania and her train. 
 
 Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this 
 Till 1 torment tliee tor this injury. — [grove. 
 
 My gentle Puck, come hither : tnou reiiiember'st 
 Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
 And heard a mermaid, on a doli'hin's back. 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song : 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres. 
 To hear the sea maid's music. 
 
 Puck. I remember. 
 
 Obe. That very time I saw, (but thou could'st not,), 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took 
 At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 
 And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: 
 But 1 might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 Qiiench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon ; 
 And the imperial vot'ress passed on. 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 
 Vet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 
 It fell upon a little western flower, — 
 Before, milk-white ; now purple with love's wound. 
 And maidens call it love-in-ialeness. 
 Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once ; 
 The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid, 
 Will make or man or woman madly dote 
 Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
 Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again, 
 Ere the leviathan can swim a league. 
 
 Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes. [Exit Puck. 
 
 Obe. Having once this juice, 
 
 I'll watch Titania when she is asleep. 
 And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: 
 The next thing then she waking looks upon, 
 (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull. 
 On meddling monkey, or on busy ape). 
 She shall pursue it with the soul of love. 
 And ere I take this charm olF from her sight, 
 (As I can take it, with another herb,) 
 I'll make her render up her page to me. — 
 But who comes here ? 1 am invisible ; 
 And I will over-hear their conference. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 lis 
 
 Enter Demetrius, IIei.ena following htm. 
 
 De.m. I love tliee not, therefore pursue me not 
 Where is Lysander, and fair Herinia? 
 The one I'll slay, the otiier shjyeth ine. 
 Thou tuld'st me, they were stoln into this wood. 
 And here am I, and wood within this wood. 
 Because I cannot meet with Hermia. 
 Hence, get tliee gone, and follow me no more. 
 
 Hel. iou draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; 
 But yet you draw not iron, for my heart 
 Is true as steel : leave you your power to draw. 
 And I shall have no power to follow you. 
 
 Deni. Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair'' 
 Or, rafiier, do I not in plainest truth 
 Tell you — I do not, nor I cannot love you ? 
 
 Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. 
 I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, 
 The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: 
 Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me. 
 Neglect me, lose me ; only give me leave, 
 Unworthy as I am, to follow yon. 
 What worser place can I beg in your love, 
 (And yet a place of higli respect with me,) 
 Than to be used as you use your dog ? 
 
 Dein. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit ; 
 For I am sick, when I do look on thee. 
 
 Hel. And I am sick, when I look not on you. 
 
 Dem. You do impeach your modesty too much. 
 To leave the city, aud commit yourself 
 Into the hands of one, that loves you not ; 
 To trust the opportunity of night, 
 And the ill counsel of a desert place. 
 With the rich worth of your virginity. 
 
 Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that. 
 It is not night, when I do see your face. 
 Therefore I think I am not in the ni^ht : 
 Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company ; 
 For you, in my respect, are all the world. 
 Then how can it be said, I am alone, 
 When all the world is here to look on me? 
 
 Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, 
 And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 
 
 Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. 
 Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd ; 
 Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase ; 
 The dove pursues the griffin ; the mild hind 
 Makes speed to catch the tiger : bootless speed ! 
 When cowardice pursues, and valour flies. 
 
 Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me go : 
 Or, if thou follow me, do not believe 
 But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 
 
 Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, 
 You do me mischief, by, Demetrius! 
 Y'our wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : 
 We cannot fight for love, as men may do ; 
 We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. 
 I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, 
 To die upon the hand I love so well. 
 
 {Exeunt Dem. and Hel. 
 
 Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave 
 this grove. 
 Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. — 
 
 Re-enter PuCK. 
 Hast thou the flower there '? Welcome, wanderer. 
 
 Puck. Ay, there it is. 
 
 Obe, I pray thee, give it me. 
 
 know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows. 
 Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows; 
 Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, 
 VV'ilh sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : 
 There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
 Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight ; 
 And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin. 
 Weed wide enouj;h to wrap a fairy in: 
 And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes. 
 And make her full of hateful fantasies. 
 Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove : 
 A sweet Athenian lady is in love 
 With a disdainful youth : anoint his eyes ; 
 
 But do it, when the next thing he espies 
 May be the lady : Ihou shalt know the man 
 By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
 Etfect it with some care : that he may prove 
 More fond on her, than she upon her love : 
 And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. 
 Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Another part of the Wood. 
 Enter Titania, with her train. 
 Tita. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song. 
 Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; 
 Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds: 
 Some, war with renr-mice for their leathern wings, 
 To make nry small elves coats ; and some, keep back 
 The clamorous o\vl, that nightly hoots, and wonders 
 At our quaint spirits: slni; me now asleep; 
 Then to your ofiices, and let me rest. 
 
 SONG. 
 J. 
 
 I Fai. Yau spotted snakes, with double tomjue. 
 Thorny hedije-hoys, be not seen; 
 Newts, and blind worms, do no wronff ; 
 Come not near our fairy queen : 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Philomel, with melody, 
 Siiiij in our stveet lullaby : 
 Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, luUa, lidlaby : 
 Never harm, nor spell nor charm, 
 Come our lovely lady nigh ; 
 So, 'joodniyht, tvith lullaby. 
 
 II. 
 
 2 Fai. Weaving spiders, come not here : 
 
 Hence, you lony-legg' d spinners, hence i 
 Bellies black, approach not near ; 
 IForm, nor snail, do no offence. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Philomel, with melody, §^'c. 
 
 I Fai. Heucc, away ; now all is well : 
 One, aloof, stand sentinel. 
 
 [Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps. 
 
 Enter Oberon. 
 
 Obe. VV'hat thou seest, when lliou dost wake, 
 
 [Squeezes the flower oti Titania's eye-lids. 
 Do it for thy true-love take ; 
 Love, and languish for his sake; 
 Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, 
 Pard, or boar with bristled hair. 
 In thy eye that shall appear 
 When thou wak'st, it is thy dear; 
 Wake, when some vile thing is near. 
 
 Enter Lysander and Hermia. 
 
 Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in 
 wood ;, 
 
 And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way, 
 We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good. 
 
 And tarry for the comfort of the day. 
 
 Her. Be it so, Lysander ; find you out a bed. 
 For I upon this bank will rest my head. 
 
 Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both ; 
 One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth. 
 
 Her. Nay, good Lysander; lor my sake, my dear. 
 Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. 
 
 Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence ; 
 Love takes the meaning, in love's conference 
 I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit \ 
 So that but one heart we can make of it: 
 Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 
 So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. 
 Then, by your side no bed-room me deny ; 
 For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 
 
 Her. Lysander riddles very prettily. — 
 Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, 
 If Hermia n)eant to say, Lysander lied. 
 But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
 
 [Exit. 
 the 
 
116 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act ITT. 
 
 further off; in human modesty 
 Such separation, as, may well be said. 
 Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid : 
 So lar be distant ; and good night, sweet friend : 
 'i'hy love ne'er alter, till tliy sweet life end ' 
 
 LiifS. Amen, Amen, to that lair prayer, say I ; 
 And then end life, wlien I end loyalty ! 
 Here is my bed : sleep give thee all liis rest! 
 
 Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be 
 press'd ! ( T/iet/ sleep.) 
 
 Enter PucK. 
 
 Puck. Through the forest have I gone. 
 But Athenian found I none, 
 On whose eyes 1 might approve 
 This flower's lorce in stirring love. 
 Night and silence ! vvlio is here ? 
 Weeds of Athens he doth wear: 
 This is he, my master said. 
 Despised the Atlienian maid \ 
 And here the maiden, sleeping sound. 
 On the dank and dirty ground. 
 Pretty soul! she durst not lie 
 Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy. 
 Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
 All the power this ciiarm doth owe : 
 VV^hen thou wak'st, let \o\e forbid 
 Sleep his seat on thy eye-lid. 
 So awake, when I am gone; 
 For I must now to Oheron. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Demetrius a7id Helena, runninrj. 
 
 Hel. Stay, though thou kill nie, sweet Deme- 
 trius, [me thus. 
 
 Detn. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt 
 
 Hel. O, wilttiiou darkling leave me * do not so. 
 
 Dem. Stay, on thy peril ; I alone will go. 
 
 [Exit Demetrius. 
 
 Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase ! 
 The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
 Happy is Hermia, whereso'er she lies; 
 For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. 
 How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears : 
 If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. 
 No, no, I am as ugly as a bear ; 
 For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: 
 'I'herefore, no marvel, though Demetrius 
 Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus. 
 What wicked and dissembling glass of mine 
 Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ? — 
 But who is here ? — Lysander ! on the ground ! 
 Dead ? or asleep ? I see no blood, no wound : 
 Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. 
 
 Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet 
 sake. ( fVaking.) 
 
 Transparent Helena ! Nature here shows art. 
 That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. 
 W^here is Demetrius'!' O, how fit a word 
 Is that vile name, to perish on my sword i 
 
 Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so : 
 W^hat though he love your Hermia 't Lord, what 
 
 though ? 
 Yet Hermia still loves you : then be content. 
 
 Lys. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent 
 The tedious minutes 1 with her have spent. 
 Not Hermia, but Helena I love : 
 W.'io wdl not change a raven for a dove ? 
 The will of man is by his reason swjy'd : 
 And reason says you are the worthier maid. 
 Things growing are not ripe until their season ; 
 So 1, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; 
 And touching now the point of human skill. 
 Reason becomes the marshal to my will. 
 And leads me to your eyes ; where I o'erloiik. 
 Love's stories, written in love's richest book. 
 
 ller. Whercf lie v/.is 1 to this keen mockery born? 
 When, at your haiuls, dul I deser\e this scorn i* 
 Is't not enough, is't n.it enough, joung man, 
 'I'liat I did never, no, i.iu i.ever can. 
 Deserve a sweet look iVcm Demetrius' eye. 
 
 But you must flout my insufficiency ? 
 
 Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do 
 
 In such disdainful manaer me to woo. 
 
 But fare you well : perforce I must confess, 
 
 I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 
 
 O, that a lady, of one man relusd. 
 
 Should, pf another, therefore be ainis'd ! [Exit. 
 
 Lys. She- sees not Hermia: — Hermia, sleep thou 
 there ; 
 And never may'st thou come Lysander near! 
 For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things 
 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings; 
 Or, as the heresies, that men do leave. 
 Are hated most of those they did deceive ; 
 So thou, my surieit, and my heresy. 
 Of all be hated ; but the most of me ! 
 And all my powers, address your love and might. 
 To honour Helen, and to be her knight ! [Exit. 
 
 Her. {Slartiny.} Help me, I^ysander, help me ! 
 do thy bcst, 
 To pluck tliis crawling serpent from my breast! 
 All me, for pity !— what a dream was here ? 
 Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear! 
 IVlefliought a serpent eat my heart away. 
 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey : — 
 Lysander ! what, remov'd ? Lysander ! lord ! 
 W lirtt, out of hearing ;' gone ? no sound, no word ? 
 Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; 
 Speak, of all loves; I swoon almost with (ear. 
 No .•' — then I well perceive you are not nigh: 
 Either death, or you, I IF find immediately. [Exit 
 
 ACT II L 
 
 Scene I. — The same. The Queen of Fairies 
 lyiit'j asleep. 
 
 Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout 
 and Starveling. 
 
 Bot. Are we all met i 
 
 Quin. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvellous conve- 
 nient i>lace for our rehearsal : this green plot shall 
 he our stage, this hawthorn brake our tyring house ; 
 and we will do it in action, as we will do it before 
 
 But. Peter Quince, — [the duke 
 
 Quin. What say'sl thou, bully Bottom? 
 
 But. There are things in this comedy oi' Pyramus 
 and Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyranius 
 must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies 
 cannot abide. How answer you that i 
 
 Snout. Hv'rhikin, a parlous fear. 
 
 Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, 
 when all is done. 
 
 But. Not a whit : I have a device to make all 
 well. Write me a prologue : and let the prologue 
 seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords ; 
 and that Pyramus is not killed indeed : and. for the 
 more better assurance, tell them, ttiat I Pyramus am 
 not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver : this will put 
 them out of fear. 
 
 Quin. VV'ell, we will have such a prologue; and it 
 shall be written in eight and six. 
 
 Bot. No, make it two more ; let it he written in 
 eight and eight. 
 
 Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? 
 
 Star. I fear it, I promise you. 
 
 Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- 
 selves : to brirtg in, God shield us! a lion among 
 fidies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a 
 more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living; and we 
 oiiglit to look to it. . [is not a lion. 
 
 Snuitt. 'i'lierefore, another prologue must tell, he 
 
 Bot. Nuy, you must name his name, and half his 
 face must be seen through the lion's neck ; and he 
 liiinself must speak througli, saying thus, or to the 
 same defect, — Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish 
 you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat 
 you, not to fear, not to tremble ; my life for yours. If 
 you think I oune hither as a lion, it werp pity of my 
 hie : no, I am no such thins ; I am a man as other 
 men are : — and there, indeed, let liini name his name; 
 and tell tliem plainly, he is Snu" the joiner. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 117 
 
 Quin. Well, it shall he so. But there is <wo hard 
 <hiogs; that is, to bring the moonlight into a ciiani- 
 ber : Tor you know, Pyramiis and Thisby meet by 
 tnoon-light. [our play? 
 
 Snug. Doth tlie moon shine tliat night we play 
 
 Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the almanack; 
 find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine. 
 
 Quin. Yes, it doth shine tliat night 
 
 Bot. Why, then you may leave a casement of the 
 great chamber winilow, where we play, open ; and 
 the moon may shine in at the casement. 
 
 Quin. Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush of 
 dhorns and a lantern, and say, he comes to distis'ir*. 
 or to present, fne person of moou-eiiine. Then, there 
 is another thing : we must have a wall in the great 
 chamber ; lor Pyramus and Tliisby, says tlie story, 
 did talk through the chink of a wall. 
 
 Snug. You never can bring in a wall. — What say 
 you, Bottom? 
 
 Bot. Some man or other must present wall : and 
 let him have .some piaster, or some loam, or some 
 rough-cast about him, to signify wall ; or let him hold 
 his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Py- 
 ramus and Thisby whisper. 
 
 Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit 
 down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. 
 Pyramus, you begin ; when you have spoken your 
 speech, enter into that brake ; and so every one ac- 
 cording to his cue. • 
 
 Enter PuoK behind. 
 
 Puck. What hempen horae-spi'ns have we swag- 
 gering here. 
 So near the cradle of the fairy queen? 
 What, a (jlay toward? I'll be an auditor; 
 An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. 
 
 Quin. Speak, Pyramus : — Thisby, stand forth. 
 
 Pt/r. Thishy ,the fiowers of odious savours sweet — 
 
 Quin. Odours, odours. 
 
 J^i/r. odours savours sweet : 
 
 So doth thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. — 
 But, hark, a voice I stay thou but here a while, 
 
 And hy and by I will to thee appear. [Exit. 
 
 Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd h^re \ 
 
 {Aside.)— [Exit. 
 
 This. Must I speak now ? 
 
 Quin. Ay, marry, must you : for you must imder- 
 fitand, he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is 
 to come again. [hue, 
 
 This. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily tvkite of 
 
 OJ colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, 
 Most briskly Juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, 
 I Astrueastruest horse, that yet would never tire, 
 til meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. 
 
 Quin. Ninus' tomb, man : why you must not speak 
 that yet : that you answer to Pyramus : you speak 
 all your part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter; 
 rour cue is past ; it is, never tire. 
 
 Re enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass's head. 
 
 This. O, — As true as truest horse, that yet would 
 never tire 
 
 Pyr. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine : — 
 
 Quin. O monstrous ! O strange ! we are haunted. 
 Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! help I [Exeunt Clowns. 
 
 Puck. I'll follow you, Ml lead you about a round, 
 
 Through bog, through bush, tlKOUgh brake, through 
 brier; 
 Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, 
 
 A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire ; 
 And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, 
 liike horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bot. Why do they run away? this is a knavery of 
 them, to make me aleard. 
 
 Re-enter Snout. 
 
 Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed I what do I 
 see on thee ' 
 
 Bot. What do you see ? you see an ass'a head of 
 
 your own ; do you ? 
 
 Re-enter Quince. 
 Quin. Bless thee. Bottom I bless thee! thou art 
 translated. [ Exit. 
 
 Bot. I see tlieir knavery : this is to make an ass 
 of nie; to fright me, if tliey could. But J will 
 stir from this pUice, do wliat they can : I will walk 
 up and down here, and 1 will snig, that they shall 
 hear I am not afraid. (Siaysd 
 
 The ousel-cock, so black of hue, 
 
 frith orange -taivny bill. 
 The throstle with his note so true. 
 The wreit with little quill ; 
 
 Tita. 
 
 What angel wakes me from mv flowery 
 ^'■'^ ■•' ( Waking.) 
 
 bed 
 
 Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark. 
 The plain-song cuckoo gray. 
 Whose note full many a man doth mark. 
 And dares not ansiver, nay ; — 
 
 for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a 
 bird ? who would give a bird the lie, though he crj 
 cuckoo never so? 
 
 Tita. 1 pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again 
 Mine ear is much enamoiir'd of thy note. 
 So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ; 
 And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me. 
 On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. 
 
 Bot. Methiiiks, mistress, you should have little 
 reason for that : And yet, to say the trutli, reason 
 and love keep little company tOj^ether now-a-days : 
 The more the pity, that some honest neighbours 
 will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon 
 occasion. 
 
 Tita. Thou art as wise as thon art beautiful. 
 
 Bot. Not so, neither ; but if I had wit enough to 
 get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine 
 own turn. 
 
 Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; 
 Thou sh lit remain here, whether thou vvilt or no. 
 I am a spirit, of no common rate ; 
 The Slimmer still doth tend upon my state, 
 And I do love thee : therefore, go with me; 
 I'll give thee fiiiries to attend on thee ; 
 And they shall fetch thee jewels i'rorn the deep. 
 And sing, while thou on pressed ti jwers dost .s.rep 
 And I will purge thy mortal grossness so. 
 That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. — 
 Peas-blossom ! Cobweb ! Moth ! and Mustard seed ' 
 
 Enter four Fairies. 
 
 1 Fai. Ready. 
 
 2 Fai. And I. 
 
 3 Fai. And I. 
 
 4 Fai. Where shall we go t 
 Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentlem m ; 
 
 Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; 
 Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries ; 
 With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries , 
 The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, 
 And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs. 
 And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes. 
 To have my love to bed, and to arise ; 
 -\nd pluck the wings from painted butterflies. 
 To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes: 
 Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 
 
 1 Fai. Hail, mortal! 
 
 2 Fa!. Hail ! 
 
 3 Fai. Hail ! 
 
 4 Fai. Hail ! 
 
 But. I cry your worships mercy, heartily. — I 
 beseech, your worship's name. 
 
 Cob. Cobweb. 
 
 But. I shall desireyouof more acquaintance, good 
 master Cob.veb : If I cut my finger, I shall make 
 bold with von. — Yourname, honest gentleman ? 
 
 Peas. Peas-blossom. 
 
 Bot. I pray you, coramepd me tc jnistress Squaah^ 
 
118 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act m 
 
 your mother, and to master Peas-cod, your father. 
 Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of 
 more acquaintanre too. — Your name, I beseech 
 
 Mus. Mustard-seed. [yon, sir? 
 
 Bot. Good master Mustard -seed, I know your 
 patience well : that same cowardly, giant-like ox- 
 beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your 
 house : I promise you, your kindred hath made my 
 eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaint- 
 ance, good master Miistard-seed. [bower. 
 
 Tita. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my 
 
 The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye ; 
 And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, 
 
 iiamenting some enforced chastity. 
 
 Tie up my love's tongue, bring hiui silently. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another part of the Wood. 
 
 Enter Oberon. 
 
 Obe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; 
 Then, what it was that next came in her eye. 
 Which she must dote on in extremity. 
 
 Enter PucK. 
 Here comes my messenger. — How now, mad spirit ! 
 What night-rule now about this haunted grove ? 
 
 Puch. My mistress with a monster is in love. 
 Near to her close and consecrated bower. 
 While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
 A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 
 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls. 
 Were met together to rehearse a play. 
 Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
 The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort. 
 Who Pyramus presented, in their sport 
 Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake : 
 When I did him at this advantage take. 
 An ass's nowl I fixed on his head ; 
 Anon, his Thisbe must be answered. 
 And forth my mimic comes : when they him spy. 
 As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye. 
 Or rtisset-pated choughs, many in suit, 
 Ilising and casving at the gun's report, 
 Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky ; 
 So, at his siglit, away his fellosvs fly : 
 And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; 
 He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. 
 Tlieir sense, tiuis weak, lost with their fears, thus 
 
 strong. 
 Made senseless things begin to do them wrong : 
 For briers and thorns at f heir apparel snatch ; 
 Some, sleeves ; some, hats : from yielders all things 
 1 led them on in this distracted fear, [catch. 
 
 And left sweet Pyramus translated there : 
 When in that moment (so it came to pass,) 
 Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass. 
 
 Obe. 'i'his falls out better than I could devise. 
 Hut hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes 
 With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do i 
 
 Puck. I took him sleeping, — that is finish'd too, — 
 And the Athenian woman by liis side; 
 Tliat when he wak'd, of force she nmst be ey'd. 
 
 Enter Demetrius and Hermia. 
 
 Obe. Stand close ; this is the same Athenian. 
 
 Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. 
 
 Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? 
 Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. [worse ; 
 
 Her. Now t but chide, bnt I should use thee 
 For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. 
 If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep. 
 Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep. 
 And kill me too. 
 
 The sun was not so true unto the day. 
 As he to me ; Would he have stol'n away 
 From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon. 
 This whole earth may be bor'd ; and that the moon 
 May through the centre cree|), atd so displease 
 Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes. 
 It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him ; 
 
 So should a murderer look : so dead, so grim. 
 
 Dem. Soshould the murder'd look; and so should I, 
 Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty : 
 Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear. 
 As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 
 
 Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? 
 Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ? 
 
 Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. 
 
 Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'stme past the 
 bounds 
 Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then ? 
 Henceforth be never nnniber'd among men ! 
 Oh ! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ; 
 Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake. 
 And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! 
 Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ? 
 An adder did it; for with doubler tongue 
 Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. 
 
 Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd 
 I am not guilty of Lysander's blood ; [mood : 
 
 Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. 
 
 Her. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. 
 
 Dem. An if ( coidd,what should I get therefore? 
 
 Her. A privilege, never to see me more. — 
 And from thy hated presence part I so: 
 See ine no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit. 
 
 Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein; 
 Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. 
 So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow 
 For debt, that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; 
 Which now, in some slight measure it will pay. 
 If for his tender here I make some stay, [liies down.), 
 
 Obe. What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken 
 quite. 
 And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : 
 Of thy misprision must perforce ensue 
 Some true-love turn'd, and not a false tiira'd frno. 
 
 Puch. Then fate o'er-rules; that, one man holding 
 A million fail, confounding oath on oath. [troth, 
 
 Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind. 
 And Helena of Athens look thou find : 
 All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer 
 With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear: 
 By some illusion see thou bring her here ; 
 I'll diarni his eyes, against she do appear. 
 
 Puck. I go, I go ; look how I go ; 
 Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Esii. 
 
 Obe. Flower of this purple die, 
 Hit with Cupid's archery, 
 Sink in apple of bis eye ! 
 When his love he dotli espy, 
 Lifct her shine as gloriously 
 As the Venus of the sky. — 
 When thou wak'st, if she be by. 
 Beg of her for remedy. 
 
 Re- enter Puck. 
 
 Puch. Captain of our fairy band, 
 
 Helena is here at hand ; 
 
 And the youth, mistook by me. 
 
 Pleading for a lover's fee ; 
 
 Shall we their lond pageant see? 
 
 Lord, what fools these mortals be ? 
 Obe. Stand aside : the noi.se they make. 
 
 Will cause Demetrius to awake. 
 Puck. Then will two at once, woo one; 
 
 That must needs be sport alone ; 
 
 And those things do best please me. 
 
 That befal preposterously. 
 
 Enter Lysander and Helena. 
 
 Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in 
 scorn ? 
 
 Scorn and derision never come in tears; 
 Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows so born. 
 
 In their nativity all truth appears. 
 How can these things in nie seem scorn to you, 
 Beaiing the badge of faith, to prove them true .' 
 
 Hel. You do advance your cununig mure and mor. 
 
 When truth kills trutli, O devilish-huly fray \ 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 119 
 
 These vows are Herniia's: will you give her o'er? 
 
 Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing 
 weigh : 
 Voiir vows, to her and me, put in two scales. 
 Will even weigh: and both as light as tales. 
 
 Ijvs. I had no judgment, when to her I swore. 
 
 Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now yon give her o'er. 
 
 hys. I)f metritis loves hir, and he loves not you. 
 
 Dem. {Awaking.) O Helen, goddess, nymph, 
 perfect, divine ! 
 To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ? 
 Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 
 Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow I 
 That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, 
 I'ann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow. 
 When thou hold'st up thy hand : O, let me kiss 
 This princess of pure white, this seal ol bliss ! 
 
 Hel. O spite ! O hell ! 1 see you all are bent 
 To set against me, for your meriiuient. 
 If you were civil, and knew courtesy, 
 Vou would not do me thus much injury. 
 Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
 liut you must join, in souls, to mock me too? 
 If you were men, as men you are in show, 
 \ You would not use a gentle lady so \ 
 To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts. 
 When, 1 am sure, you hate me with your hearts. 
 You both are rivals, and love Hermia ; 
 And now both rivals, to mock Helena: 
 A trim exploit, a manly enterprize. 
 To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes. 
 With your derision ! none, of noble sort, 
 Would so oti'end a virgin; and extort 
 A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport 
 
 Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; 
 For you love Hermia ; this, you know, 1 know : 
 And here. With all good will, with all my heart. 
 In Heruiias love 1 yield you up my part; 
 And youis ol Helena to nie beqiteatli. 
 Whom I do love, and will do to my death. 
 
 Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. 
 
 Dem. Lysiinder, keep thy Hermia: I will none : 
 If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone. 
 My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojouro'd : 
 And now to Helen is it home return'd, 
 'I'here to remain. 
 
 hys. Helen, it is not so. 
 
 Dem. Disparage not the i'aitli thou dost not know, 
 Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.-^ 
 Look, where thy love conies; yonder is thy dear. 
 
 E7iter Hermia. 
 
 Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function 
 takes. 
 The ear more quick of apprehension makes; 
 Wherein it dotli impair the seeing sense. 
 It pays the hfaring double recompense; 
 'J'iiou art not by mine eye, Lysjinler, found ; 
 Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. 
 U;it wliy unkindly didst tliou leave me so ^ 
 
 Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press 
 to go .'' [side ? 
 
 Her. What love could press Lysander from my 
 
 hys. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide. 
 Fair Helena; who more engilds the night 
 Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. [know. 
 
 Why seek'st tiioii me ? could not this make thee 
 The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? 
 
 Her. You speak not as you think ; it cannot be. 
 
 Hel. Lo, siie is one of this confederacy ! 
 Now I perceive they have conjoin'd, all three. 
 To fashion this false sport in spite of me. 
 Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! 
 Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd 
 To bait me witli this foul derision i 
 Is all the counsel that we two have sliar'd, 
 T; o sisters' vows, tlie hours that we have spent, 
 ^^ hen we have chid the hasty-tooted time 
 For parting us, — O, and is all forgot ? 
 
 All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? 
 
 We, Hermia, like two artificial gods. 
 
 Have with our neelds created both one flower, 
 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion. 
 
 Both warbling o( one song, both in one key; 
 
 As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds. 
 
 Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted; 
 
 But yet a union in partition. 
 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
 
 So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; 
 
 Two of the first, like coats in heialdry, 
 
 Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 
 
 And will you rend our ancient love asunder. 
 
 To join with men in scorning your poor friend? 
 
 It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 
 
 Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it ; 
 
 Though I alone do ieel the iiijiuy. 
 
 Her. I am amazed at your passionate words: 
 I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me. 
 
 Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, 
 To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? 
 And made your other love, Demetrius, 
 (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) 
 To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, 
 Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this 
 To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander 
 Deny your love, so rich within his soul. 
 And tender me, forscMith, afl'ection; 
 But by your setting on, by your consent? 
 What though 1 be not so in grace as you, 
 So hung upon with love, so Ibrtunate ; 
 But miserable most, to love unlov'd ? 
 This you should pity, rather than despise. 
 
 Her. I understand not what you mean by this. 
 
 Hel. Ay, do, perstiver, counterfeit sad looks. 
 Make mowes upon me, when I turn my back; 
 Wink at each other; hold tiie sweet jest up: 
 Tliis sport, well carrie<l, shall be chronicled. 
 If you have any i)ity, grace or manners, 
 ^ on would not make me such an argument. 
 But, fare ye well : 'tis partly mine own fault; 
 Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. 
 
 hys. Stay, gentle Helena, hear my excuse ; 
 My love, my life, my so.d, fair Helena ! 
 
 Hel. O excellent ! 
 
 Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so. 
 
 Dem. If she cannot entreat, 1 can compel. 
 
 hys. Thou canst compel no more than she en- 
 treat ; [prayers. — 
 Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak 
 Helen, I love thee ; by my life, 1 do; 
 I swear by (hat, which I will lose lor thee. 
 To prove him false, that says I love thee not. 
 
 Dem. I say, I love thee more than he can do. 
 
 Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. 
 
 Dem. Quick, come, — 
 
 Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ? 
 
 hys. Away, you Ethiop 1 
 
 Dem. No, no, sir : — he will 
 
 Seem to break loose ; take on, as yon would follovir; 
 But yet come not : you are a tame man, go! 
 
 hys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr : vile thing, lei 
 loose ; 
 Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent. 
 
 Her. Why are you grown so rude '! what change 
 Sweet love ? [is this, 
 
 hys. Thy love ? out, tawny Tartar, out ! 
 
 Out. loathed medicine ! hated potion, hence ! 
 
 Her. Do you not jest ? 
 
 Hel. Yes, sooth ; and so do you. 
 
 hys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee 
 
 Dem. I would, 1 had your bond ; for I perceive, 
 A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word. 
 
 hys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her 
 dead ? 
 Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. [hate? 
 
 Her. What, can you do me greater harm, than 
 Hate nie ! wherefore ? O me ! what news, my love ? 
 Am not I Hermia ? Are not you Lysander ? 
 
320 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 I am as fair now. as 1 was erewhilp. [left me ; 
 
 Since night you lov'd mf ; yet, since night you 
 Why, then yon left me, — O, the gods forliid 1 — 
 In earnest, shall I say ".' 
 
 Lys. Ay, by my life; 
 
 And never did desire to see thee more. 
 Tlierefore, be ont of hope, of question, doubt. 
 Be certain, nothing truer ; 'tis no jest. 
 That I do hate thee, and love Helena. 
 
 Her. O me ! you juggler ! you canker-blossom ! 
 you thief of love ! what, have you come by night, 
 And stol'n my love's heart from him i 
 
 Hel. Fine, i'faith ! 
 
 Have yofl no modesty, no maiden shame. 
 No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear 
 Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? 
 Fy, fy ! you counterfeit, you puppet you ! 
 
 Her. Puppet! why so? Ay, that way goes the 
 game. 
 Now I perceive, that she hath made compare 
 Between our statures, she hath urg"d her height; 
 And with her personage, her tall personage. 
 Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. 
 And are you grown so high in his esteem. 
 Because I am so dwarfish, and so low ? 
 How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; 
 How low am I ? I am not yet so low. 
 But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. 
 
 Hel. I pray you, tliough you mock me, gentle- 
 Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ; [men ; 
 I have no gift at all in shrewishness ; 
 I am a right maid for my cowardice ; 
 Let her not strike me : you, perhaps, may think. 
 Because she's something lower tl>an myself, 
 That I can match her. 
 
 Her. Lower y hark, again. 
 
 Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. 
 I evermore did Icve you, Hermia. 
 Did e\er keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; 
 Save that, in love unto Demetrius, 
 1 told hiui of your stealth unto this wood: 
 He follow'd you; for love, 1 follow'd him. 
 But he hath chid me hence ; and tiireaten'd me 
 To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too : 
 And now, so you will let me qiiet go. 
 To Athens will I bear my folly back. 
 And follow yon no further: let me go: 
 You see how simple and \w\\ fond 1 am. 
 
 Her. VVhy, get you gone : who is"t that hinders 
 you ? 
 
 Hel. A foolish heart that I leave here behind. 
 
 Her. What, with Lysander? , 
 
 Hel. With Demetrius. 
 
 Lys. Be not afraid ; slie shall not harm thee, 
 Helena. [part. 
 
 Dem. No, sir ; she shall not, though you take her 
 
 Hel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd : 
 She was a vixen when she went to school ; 
 And, though she be but little, she is fierce. 
 
 Her. L ttle again ? nothing but low and little ? — 
 VVhy will you suffer her to llout me thus? 
 Let me come to her. 
 
 Z>y.t. Get you gone, you dwarf; 
 
 You minimus, of hiud'iing knot-grass made ; 
 You bead, you acorn. 
 
 Dem. You are too officious, 
 
 In her behalf that scorns your services. 
 Let her alone; speak not of Helena: 
 Take not her part : for if thou dost intend 
 Never so little show of love to her, 
 Tbon shall aby it. 
 
 Jjys. Now she holds me not ; 
 
 Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right. 
 Or thine or mine, is most in Helena. 
 
 Dem. Follow? my, I'll fo with thee, cheek by 
 jole. [Exeunt Lys. and Dem. 
 
 Her. You, mistress, all tliis coil is 'long of you : 
 Nav, go not back. 
 
 Hel. I will not trust you, I ; 
 
 Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
 
 Your hands, than mine, are quicker lor a frai^, 
 My legs are longer though, to run away. [Exit, 
 
 Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. 
 
 [Exit, pursuing Helena. 
 
 Obe. This is thy negligence : still thou mistak'st, 
 Or else committ'st tiiy knaveries wilfully. 
 
 Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. 
 Did not you tell me, I should know the man 
 By the Athenian garments he had on .'' 
 And so far blameless proves my enterprize. 
 That I have 'noiiited an Athenian's eyes : 
 And so far am I glad it so did sort. 
 As this their jangling I esteem a sport. (fight 
 
 Obe. Thou seest, these lovers seek a place to 
 Hie thereH)re, Robin, overcast the night; 
 The starry welkin cover thou anoa 
 With drooping fog, as black as Acheroa; 
 And lead these testy rivals so astray, 
 As one come not witlvin another's way. 
 Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue. 
 Then stir Demetrius up with hitter wrong ; 
 And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; 
 And from each other look thou lead them tliu.s. 
 Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep 
 With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep; 
 Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye ; 
 Whose liquor hath this virtuous propei ty. 
 To take from thence all error, with liis might. 
 And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight. 
 When they next wake, all this derision 
 Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision ; 
 And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, 
 With league, whose date till death shall never end. 
 Whiles I in this alVair do thee employ, 
 I'll to my oueen, and beg her Indian boy ; 
 And then i will her charmed eye release 
 From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. 
 
 Puck. My fairy lord, this must be dune with ha.ste; 
 For night's swift dragons cut the cloud.i lull i'ast. 
 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; 
 At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here aniJ 
 
 there. 
 Troop home to churchyards : danmed spirits all. 
 That in cross-ways and floods have burial. 
 Already to their wormy beds are gone ; 
 For fear lest day should look their shames upon. 
 They wilfidly themselves exile from light. 
 And myst for aye consort with black-brow'd night. 
 
 Obe. But we are spirits of another sort: 
 I with the morning's love have oft made sport; 
 And, like a forester, the groves may tread. 
 Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red. 
 Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, 
 'i'urns into yellow gold his salt green streams. 
 But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: 
 We may ett'ect this business yet ere day. [Exit Oher. 
 
 Puck. Up and down, up and down ; 
 I will lead them up and down: 
 I am fear'd in field and town ; 
 Goblin, lead them up and down. 
 Here comes one. 
 
 Enter Lysander. 
 
 Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak 
 thou now. [art thou 'i 
 
 Puck. Here, villain ; drawn and ready Where 
 Lys. I will be with thee straight. 
 Puck. Follow me the u 
 
 To plainer ground. [Exit Lys. as following the voict. 
 
 Enter Demetrius. 
 
 Dem. Lysander ! speak again. 
 
 Thou runaway, thon coward, art thou fled ? 
 Speak. In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy 
 head ? 
 Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the star*. 
 Telling the bushes, that thou look'st for wars, 
 And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou 
 
 child ; 
 I'll whip thee with a rod he is defii'd , 
 

 " 11 1> l;iy aloiis 
 Under an nak, whose niiiiqup rixn (.."op* out ^ 
 U|M>a tbo Imt.iU tliui br:i«l-< along tliU woo. I. 
 
 A,s Vyc t.iKK It.— Act II., Scene I. 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 121 
 
 That (Iraws a sword on tkee. 
 J)em. ^"fs j '*•'*■ *-f'0" there ? 
 
 Puck. Follow my voice ; we"ll try inauhood here. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Re-enter Lysander. 
 Lys. He goes before me. and still dares me on; 
 VViieii I come wliere he calls, then he is gone. 
 The villain is much lighter heel'd th in I : 
 I /bllow'd (ast, hut iaster lie did Hy ; 
 That fallen am 1 ni dark uneven way, 
 And here will rest rue. Come, thou gentle day ! 
 
 {Lies dotvn.) 
 For if but once Ihou show me thy grey liglit, 
 I'll find Dt-meti ins, ami revenge tins spite. {Sleeps.) 
 liu-enter PccK and Demetrius. 
 Puck. Ho, ho ! ho, ho! Coward, vvliy coin'st thou 
 
 not i 
 Vein, Abide me, if thuu dar'st ; for well I wot. 
 Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place; 
 And dar'st not stand, nor look me in tlie lace. 
 Where art thou i 
 
 Puck. Come hither; 1 am here. 
 
 Dein. Nay, then thuu niock'st me. Thou shalt 
 buy this dear. 
 If ever I tliy face liy day-light see : 
 Now, go thy way. — Faintness constraineth me 
 To nieasiire out my length on this cold bed. — 
 By day's approach look to be visited. 
 
 {Lies doiun and sleeps.) 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, 
 
 Abate thy hours : shiue, comlorts, Irom the east; 
 That I may b:ick to Athens by day-light, 
 
 From these, that my poor company detest: — 
 And, sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, 
 Steal me a wiiile from mine own company. {Sleeps.) 
 Puck. Yet but three i Come one more ; 
 
 Two of butli kinds make up lour. 
 
 Here she comes, curst and sad : — 
 
 Cupid IS a knavish lad, 
 
 'J'lius to make poor females mad. / 
 
 Enter Hermia. 
 Her. Never so weary, never so in woe. 
 
 Bedabbled witli the dew, and torn with briers; 
 I can no further crawl, no further go; 
 
 My legs can keep no pace wiiti my desires. 
 Here will t rest me, till the break of day. 
 Heavens shield l/}sander, if they mean a fray ! 
 
 [Lies down.) 
 Puck. On tlie ground 
 Meep sound ■ 
 I'll apply 
 To your eye, 
 Gentle lover, remedy 
 {Squeezing the juice on Li/sander's eye.) 
 When tliou wakest. 
 Thou takest 
 True delight 
 In the sight 
 
 Of thy former lady's eye : 
 And the country proverb known, 
 That every man should take his own, 
 In your waking shall be shown : 
 Jack shall have Jill ; 
 Nought shall go ill ; 
 The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be 
 well. [Exit Puck.~Dem. Hel. §fc. sleep. 
 ACT IV. 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 
 Enter Titania and Bottom, Fairies attendinrj ; 
 Oberon behind, unseen. 
 
 Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, 
 VVlijle I tiiy amiable cheeks <lo coy. 
 And stick musk-ioses in thy sleek smuotii head. 
 And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. 
 
 Bot. Where's Peas-blossom? 
 
 Peas. Keady. 
 
 Bot. Scratch my head. Peas-blossom. — Where* 
 monsieur Cobweb ? 
 
 Cob. Ready. 
 
 Bot. Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur, get your 
 weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped 
 humble bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mon- 
 sieur, bring me the honi y-bag. Do not fret yourself 
 too much ill the action, monsieur; and, good mon- 
 sieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would 
 be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, 
 signior. — Where's monsieur Mustard-seed f 
 
 Must. Ready. 
 
 Bot. Give me your neif, monsieur Mnstard-seed. 
 Pray yon, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. 
 
 Must. What's your will ? 
 
 Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cava- 
 lero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, 
 monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy 
 about the face : and I am such a tender ass, if my 
 hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. 
 
 Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet 
 love ? 
 
 Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music : let 
 us have the tongs and the boues. (eat. 
 
 Tita. Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to 
 
 Bot. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch 
 your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great desire 
 to a bottle of hay : good hay, sweet hay, hath no 
 fellow. 
 
 Tita. I have a venturous fairy, that shall seek 
 The sqiiirrt^l's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. 
 
 Bvt. I had rather have a handful, or two,'of dried 
 pea.s. But, I pray you, let none of your people 
 stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon 
 me. (arms. — 
 
 Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my 
 Fairies, he gone, and be all ways away. 
 So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle. 
 Gently entwist, — the female ivy so 
 Eiirings the barky fingers of the elm. 
 O, how 1 love tht e! how I dote on thee: {They sleep.) 
 
 Oberon advances. Enter Puck. 
 
 Obe. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this 
 sweet sight ^ 
 Her dotage now I do begin to pity. 
 For meeting her of late, behind tlie wood. 
 Seeking sweet savours lor this hateliil fool, 
 I did upbraid her, and fall out with her: 
 For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
 With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; 
 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
 Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls 
 Stood now within the pretty Honerets' eyes. 
 Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
 When I had, at my plesiire, taunted her, 
 And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience. 
 I then did ask ol'her her changeling child ; 
 Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
 To bear him to my bower in fairy laud. 
 And now I have the boy, I will undo 
 This hateful imperfection of her eyes. 
 And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp 
 From otl'the head of this Athenian swain; 
 That he, awaking, when the other do. 
 May alt to Athens back again rejiair; 
 And think no more of this night's accidents. 
 But as the fierce vexation of a dream. 
 But first I will release the fairy queen. 
 
 Be, as thou wast wont to be ; 
 
 ( Touching her eyes with an herb-) 
 
 See, as thou wast wont to see : 
 
 Dim's bud o er Cupid s flower 
 
 Hath siicli force and blessed power 
 Now, my Tiiaiiia ; wake you, my sweet queen. 
 
 Tita. .M> Oberon! what visions have 1 seen ! 
 Methought I was eiiamour'd of an ass. 
 06?. There lies your love. 
 
 3'»V«. How came these things to pass? 
 
 O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now ! 
 
122 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Obe. Silence, a while.— Robin, take off this head. — 
 TitaDia, music call ; and strike more de-ad 
 Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. 
 Tita. Music, ho! music ; such as charmeth sleep. 
 Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own 
 
 fool's eyes peep. 
 Obe. Sound, music. [Still music.) Come, my 
 queen, take hands with me. 
 And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. 
 Now thou and I are nevy in amity : 
 And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly, 
 Dance in duke Theseus' house triumpiiantly, 
 And bless it to all fair posterity: 
 There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be 
 Wedded, with Theseus, all in joUiiy. 
 Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark ; 
 
 I do hear tlie morning lark. 
 Obe. Then, luy queen, in silence sad, 
 Trip we alter the night's shade ; 
 We the globe can compass soon. 
 Swifter than the wand'ring moon. 
 Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight, 
 'J'ell me how it came this night. 
 That I sleeping here was found. 
 With these mortals on the ground. [Exeunt. 
 {Horns sound ivilhin.) 
 
 Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train. 
 
 The. Go, one of you, find out (he forester ; — 
 For now our observation is perform'd : 
 And since we have the vaward of the day. 
 My love shall hear the music of my hounds. — 
 Uncouple in the western valley; go: — 
 Despatch, 1 say, and find the forester. — 
 We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top. 
 And mark the musical confusion 
 Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 
 
 Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once. 
 When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
 With hounds of Sparta: never did i hear 
 Sucli gallant chiding; for, besides the groves. 
 The skies, the fountains, every region near 
 Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard 
 So niusical a discord, such sweet thunder. 
 
 The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind. 
 So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung 
 With ears that sweep away the mornirig devv ; 
 Crook-knee'd, and dew lapp'd like Thess;ilian bulls ; 
 Slow in pursuit, but raatch'd in mouth iike bells. 
 Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
 Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with hnrn, 
 In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : [are these ? 
 Judge, when you hear. — But, soft; what nymphs 
 
 Eye. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; 
 And this Lysander; this Demetrius is; 
 This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: 
 I wonder of their being here together. 
 
 The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe 
 The rite of May ; and hearing our intent. 
 Came here in grace of our solemnity.— 
 But, speak, Egeus ; is not this the day. 
 That Hermia should give answer of her choice ? 
 
 Ege. It is, my lord. [horns. 
 
 T/ie. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their 
 
 Horns and shout within. DEMETRIUS, Lysander , 
 
 Hermia and Helena, wake, and start up. 
 
 The. Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is 
 past ; 
 Begin these wood-birds but to conple now ? 
 
 Jjys. Pardon, my lord. 
 
 [He and the rest kneel to Theseus.) 
 
 The. I pray you all, stand up. 
 
 [ know, you are two rival enemies ; 
 How comes this gentle concord in the world. 
 That liatred is so far from jealousy. 
 To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ? 
 
 hys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, 
 Half 'sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, 
 t cftnnot ij-ulv sav how I came here : 
 
 But, as I think, (for truly would I speak, — 
 
 And now I do bethink me, so it is ;) 
 
 I came with Herniia hither: our intent 
 
 Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be 
 
 Without the peril of the Athenian law. 
 
 Eye. Enough, enough, my lord ; you have enough: 
 I beg the law, the law, upon his head. — [trius 
 
 They would have stol'n away, they would, Deme 
 Thereby to ha\e defeated you and me : 
 Y'ou, of your wife ; and me, of my consent ; 
 Of my consent that slie should be your wife. 
 
 Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth 
 Of this their purpose hither, to this wood ; 
 And I in fury hither follow'd them; 
 Fair Helena in fancy following me. 
 But, my good loid, I wot not by what power, 
 (But, by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, 
 Melted as doth tlie snow, seems to me now 
 As the lemembrance of an idle gawd. 
 Which in my chddhood 1 did dote upon : 
 And all the laith, the virtue of my heait, 
 The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, 
 Is only Helena. To her, my lord. 
 Was I betroth'd ere I saw Herniia ; 
 But, like in sickness, did I loath this food; 
 But, as in health, come to my natural taste. 
 Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. 
 And will for evermore be true to it. 
 
 The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : 
 Of this discourse we will hear more anon. — 
 Egeus, I will overbear your will; 
 For in the temple, by and by with us, 
 These couples shall eternally be knit. 
 And, for the morning now is something worn. 
 Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. — 
 Away, with us, to Athens: three and three. 
 We'll hold a feast of great solemnity. — 
 Come, Hippolyta. 
 
 [Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train, 
 
 Dem. These things seem small and undistin- 
 giiishable. 
 Like far otF mountains turned into clouds. 
 
 Her. Methiugs, I see these things with parted eye, 
 Wlien every tlimg seems double 
 
 Hel. So iiiethinks : 
 And 1 have iound Demetrius like a jewel. 
 Mine own, and not mine own. 
 
 De.tn. It seems to me, 
 
 That yet we sleep, we dream. — Do not you think. 
 The duke was here, and bid us ibllow him? 
 
 Her. Vea ; and my lather. 
 
 Hel. And Hippolyta. 
 
 Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. 
 
 Dem. Why then, we are awake : let's follow him ; 
 And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 As they go out, Bottom awakes. 
 
 Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will an- 
 swer: — my next is. Most fair Pyramus. — Hey, 
 ho! — Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! 
 Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God"s my life ! stolen 
 hence, and left me asleep ! 1 have had a most rare 
 vision. I have had a dream, — ijast the wit of mat) 
 to say what dream it was: — Man is but an ass, il 
 he go about to expound this dream. Methought I 
 was— theie is no man can tell what. Methought 1 
 was, and methought I had, — but man is but a 
 patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought 
 I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of 
 man hath not seen ; man's hand is not able to taste, 
 his tongue to c(Uiceive, nor his heart to report, what 
 mv dream was, I will get Peter Quince to write a 
 ba'llad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's 
 Dream, because it hath no bottom ; and I will sing it 
 in the latter end of a play, before the duke : per- 
 adventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall 
 sing it after death. [ExU, 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 12? 
 
 Scene II. — Athens. A Room in Quince's House. 
 Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling. 
 
 Quin. Have you sent to Bottoms liouse ? is lie 
 come home yet? [is transported. 
 
 Star. He cannot be lieard of. Out of doubt, lie 
 
 Flu. If he come not, tiien tlie play is marred; it 
 (joes not forward, doth it i 
 
 Quin. It is not possible : you have not a man in 
 all Athens able to discharge Pyramus, but he. 
 
 F/u. No; he bath simply tlie best wit of any 
 handycraft man in Athens. 
 
 Quin. Yea, and the best person too : and he is a 
 very paramour, for a sweet voice. 
 
 Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God 
 bless us, a thing of nought. 
 
 Enter Snug. 
 
 Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the 
 temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies 
 more married : if our sport had gone forward, we 
 had all been made men. 
 
 Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost 
 sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 
 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given 
 him sixpence a-d.iy for playing Pyramus, I'll be 
 hanged ; lie would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, 
 in Pyramus, or nothing. 
 
 Enter Bottom. 
 
 Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? 
 
 Quin. Bottom I — O most courageous day ! O most 
 liapiiy hour ! 
 
 iiot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders : but 
 ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true 
 Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it 
 fell out. 
 
 Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. 
 
 Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, 
 is, that the duke hath dined : get your qpparel to- 
 gether ; good strings to your beards, new ribbons 
 to your pumps; meet presently at the palace ; every 
 man look o'er his part; for, the short and tlie long 
 is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Tliisby 
 have clean linen ; and let not him, that plays the 
 lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the 
 lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, 
 nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath ; and 
 I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet 
 comedy. No more words ; away ; go away. 
 
 i^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. An Apartment in the Palace 
 
 of Theseus. 
 
 Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, 
 Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers 
 speak of^ [lieve 
 
 The. More strange than true. I never may be- 
 These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 
 Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains. 
 Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
 More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
 The lunatic, the lover, and the poet. 
 Are of iuiaginition all compact: 
 One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 
 That is, the madman: tne lover, all as frantic. 
 Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 
 The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 
 
 heaven ; 
 And, as imagination boilies forth 
 The foruis ol things unknown, the poet's pen 
 Turns them to slwpes, and gives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation, and a name. 
 Such tricks hath strong imagination: 
 That, if it woirid but appreliend some joy. 
 It coniprelienils some bringer of thatjoy ; 
 
 Or, in the night, imagining some fear. 
 How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear? 
 
 Hip. But all the story of the night told over. 
 And all their minds trausfigur'd so together. 
 More witnesseth than fancy's images. 
 And grows to something ot great constancy ; 
 But, howsoever, strange, and admirable. 
 
 Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermu, and 
 Helena. 
 
 The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— 
 Joy, gentle friends ! joy, and fresh days of love. 
 Accompany your hearts ! 
 
 Lys. ' More than to us 
 
 Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed! 
 
 The. Come now ; what masks, what dances shaSl 
 we have, 
 To wear away this long age of three hours. 
 Between our after-supper, and bed-time? 
 Where is our usual manager of mirth ? 
 What revels are in hand ? Is there no play. 
 To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? 
 Call Philostrate. 
 
 Philost. Here, mighty Theseus. 
 
 The. Say, what abridgment have you for this 
 evening ? 
 What mask ? what music ? How shall we beguile 
 The lazy time, if not with some delight? 
 
 Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe; 
 Make choice of which your highness will see first. 
 
 {Giving a paper. 
 
 The. [Reads.) The battle with the Centaurs, to 
 
 be sung, 
 By an Athenian eunuch, to the harp. 
 
 We'll none of that: that have I told my love. 
 In glory of my kinsman Hercules. 
 
 The riot of the tipsy bacchanals. 
 
 Tearing the Thracian singer in their rags. 
 
 That is an old device ; and it was play'd 
 When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 
 
 The thrice three Muses mourning for the death 
 Of learning, late deceas d in beggary . 
 
 That is some satire, keen, and critical, 
 Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. 
 
 A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, 
 And his love Thisbe : very tragical mirth 
 
 Merry and tragical ? tedious and brief? 
 That is, hot ice, and wonderous stning'e snow. 
 How shall we find the concord of this discord? 
 Philost. A play tliere is, my lord, some ten wordd 
 
 Which is as brief as I have known a play ; 
 But by ten words, my lord, it is too long ; 
 Which makes it tedious: for in all they play 
 There is not one word apt, one player fitted. 
 And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; 
 For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. 
 Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess. 
 Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears 
 The passion of loud laughter never shed. 
 
 The. What are they that do play it? 
 
 Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athena 
 here, 
 Which never labonr'd in their minds till now ; 
 And now have toii'd their unbreath'd meraoriei 
 With this same play, against your nuptial. 
 
 The. Ami we will hear it. 
 
 Philost. No, my noble lord. 
 
 It is not for you : 1 have heard it over, 
 -And it is nothing, nothing in the world; 
 Unless you can find sport in their intents. 
 Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain. 
 To do you service. 
 
 The. I will hear that play: 
 
 For never any thing can be amiss. 
 When simpleness and duty tender 't 
 
124 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGPIT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 3o, bring them m: and take your places, ladies. 
 
 [Exit Philostrate. 
 
 Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercliarged, 
 And duty in his service perishing. [tliiofT- 
 
 Tfie. \Vhy, gentle sweet, you shall see no such 
 
 Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind. 
 
 The. Tiie kinder we, to give them thanks for 
 nothing. 
 Our sport sliall be, to take what they mistake: 
 And what poor duty cannot do. 
 Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
 Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
 To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
 Where I have seen them sliiver and look pale. 
 Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
 Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, 
 And, in conclusion, dumbly h:ive broke off, 
 Not paying me a welcome ; trust me, sweet. 
 Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome; 
 And in the modesty of fearful duty 
 I read as much, as from the rattling tongue 
 Of saucy, and audacious eloquence. 
 Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, 
 Id least, speak most, to my capacity. 
 
 Enter Philostrate. 
 
 Philost. So please your grace, tlie prologue is 
 
 addrest. 
 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.) 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 
 Prol. If we offend, if is with our good will, 
 
 Thot you should think, ive come not to offend, 
 hut with (joodtvill. To show our simple skill. 
 
 That is t/w true beginning of our end. 
 Consider then, we come but in despite. 
 
 We do not cotne as minding to content you. 
 Our true intent is. All for your delight, \you. 
 
 If e are not here. That you should here repent 
 The actors are at hand; and, by their show, 
 Y'ou shall knotv all, that you are like to know. 
 
 The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 
 
 Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt; 
 he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord : it 
 is not enough to speak, but to speak true. 
 
 Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue, 
 like a cfiild on a recorder; a sound, but not iu go- 
 vernment. 
 
 The. His speech was like a tangled chain ; no- 
 thing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? 
 
 Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, TVall, Moon-shine, 
 and Lion, as in dumb show. 
 
 Prol. " Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this 
 show ; 
 
 " But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. 
 " This man is Pyramus, if you would know ; 
 
 " This beauteous lady Tliisby is, certain. 
 " This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present 
 
 " Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers 
 sunder: 
 "-\nd through wall's chink, poor souls, they are 
 content 
 
 " To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. 
 "This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, 
 
 " Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know, 
 " By moon-shine did these lovers tliink no scorn 
 
 " To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. 
 " This grisly beast, which by name lion hight, 
 " The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 
 " Did scare away, or rather did affright: 
 "And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall ; 
 
 " Which lion vile with bloody i illi did stain: 
 
 "Anon coniesPyramus, sweet vouth, and tall, 
 
 "And finds his trusty Thishy's mantle slain: 
 " Whereat with blade, wltii bloodv hhuneful blade, 
 
 " He bravely bro^ch'd his boiling bloody breast; ' 
 "And, Thisby tarrying in mulbcrrv shade. 
 
 " His dagger drew, and dind. For all the rest. 
 
 " Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers twain, 
 " At large discourse, while here they do remain. " 
 [Exeunt Prol. Thisbe, Lio7i, and M oon-thitte. 
 
 The. I wonder, if the linn be to speak. 
 
 Dem. No woudf r, my Ijrd : one lion may, when 
 many asses do. 
 
 TFall. " In this same interlude, it doth befall, 
 " That I, one Snout by name, present a wall : 
 " And such a wall ss I would have you think, 
 " 'i'hat had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, 
 " Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, 
 " Did whisper oiten \eiy secretly. [show 
 
 " This loam, this roughcast, and this stone, doth 
 " That I am that same wall ; the truth is so : 
 " And this the cranny is, right and sinister, 
 " Through which the fearbd lovers are to whisper." 
 
 The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak 
 better? 
 
 Dem. It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard 
 discourse, my lord. 
 
 The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! 
 Etiter Pyramus. 
 
 Pyr. " O grim-look'd night I O night with hue 
 so black ! 
 
 " O night, which ever art, when day is not! 
 " O night, night, alack, alack, alack, 
 
 " I fear ray Thisby's promise is forgot! — 
 " .\nd thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, 
 
 " That stand's! between her father's ground and 
 mine : 
 " Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 
 
 "Shew me thy chink, to blink tlirough with mine 
 
 eyne. ( Wall holds up hit fingers.) 
 
 "Thanks, courteous wall: Jove .shield thee well 
 
 for this ! 
 " But what see I ? No Thisby do I see. 
 " O wicked wall,lhnuigh whom I see no bliss; 
 " Curst be thy stones tor thus deceiving me ! " 
 
 The. Xhe wall, methinks, being seusible, should 
 curse again. 
 
 Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving 
 me, is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now, and 1 am 
 to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will 
 fall pat as I told you : — yonder she comes. 
 
 Enter Thisbe. 
 This. " O wall, full often hast thou heard my 
 
 moans, 
 " For parting my fair Pyramus and me : 
 " My cherry lips have oiten kiss'd thy stones; 
 " Thy ston( s with lime and hair knit up in thee." 
 Pyr. " I see a voice : now will I to the chink, 
 " To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. 
 
 "Thisby!" 
 
 This. " My love ! tlion art my love, I think." 
 Pyr. "Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's 
 grace ; 
 
 " Ami like Limander am I trusty still." 
 
 This. " And I like Helen, till the fates me kill." 
 Pyr. " Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true." 
 This. " As Shafalus to Procrns, I to you." 
 Pyr. " O, kiss me through the hole of this vile 
 
 wall." 
 This. " I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all." 
 Pz/r. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me 
 
 straightway ?" 
 This. " Tide liie, tide death, I come withou} 
 
 delay." 
 Tf all. " Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so ; 
 
 " And, being done, thus wall away dutli gn." 
 
 [Exeunt Tf all, Pyramus and Thisbe. 
 The. Now is the mural down between the two 
 
 neiglibours. 
 
 Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so 
 
 wilful, to hear without warning. 
 
 Hip. This is the silliest stuif that ever I heard. 
 The. 'V\\e best in this kind are 'ont shadows: and 
 
 the worst are no worse, if imagination aineiul them 
 Hip. It must be your imagination then, and mit 
 
 theirs. 
 
SCKNE 1. 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 125 
 
 The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they 
 of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. 
 Utile come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. 
 
 Enter Lion and Moon-shine. 
 
 Lion. " Yod, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do 
 fear [floor, 
 
 '* The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on 
 " May now, perchance, both quake and tremble, 
 here, 
 " When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. 
 " Then know, that 1, one Snug, the joiner, am 
 " A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam : 
 " For if I should as lion come in stril'e 
 " Into this place, 'twere pi(y on my life." 
 The. A very gentle beast., and of a good conscience. 
 Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er 
 I saw. 
 
 Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. 
 The. True ; and a goose for his discretion. 
 Dem. Not so, my lord ; for his valour cannot 
 carry his discretion ; and the fox carries the goose. 
 
 The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his 
 valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is 
 well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to 
 the moon. 
 
 Moon. " This lantern doth the horned moon 
 present : " 
 
 Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. 
 The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invi- 
 sible within the circumference. 
 
 Moon. " This lantern doth the horned raoon 
 present ; 
 " Myself the man i'th'moon do seem to be." 
 
 The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : the 
 man should be put into the lantern: hovir is it else 
 the man i'the moon? 
 
 Dem. He dares not come there for the candle ; 
 for, you see, it is already in snuff. 
 
 Hip. I am weary of this moon: would, he would 
 change ! 
 
 The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, 
 that he is in the wane : but yet, in courtesy, in all 
 reason, we must stay the time. 
 Lys. Proceed, moon. 
 
 Moon. '^ All that I have to say, is, to tell you that 
 the lantern is the moon ; I, the man in the moon ; 
 this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my 
 do^" 
 
 Dem. Why, all these should be in (the lantern ; 
 for they are in the moon. But silence ; here comes 
 Thisbe. 
 
 ' Enter Thiahe. 
 
 This. " This is old Ninny's tomb : where is my 
 love ? " 
 
 Lion. " Oh — ."( The lion roars. — Thisbe runs off.) 
 
 Dem. Well roared, lion. 
 
 T/ie. Well run, Thisbe. 
 
 Hip. ^Vell shone, moon. — Truly, the moon shines 
 with a good fjrace. 
 
 The. Well moused, lion. {The lion tears Thisbe' s 
 maiitle, and exit.) 
 
 Dem. And so conies Pyramus. 
 
 Lys. And then the moon vanishes. 
 
 Enter Pyramus. 
 
 Pyr. " Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny 
 
 beams ; 
 " I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright : 
 For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams. 
 " I trust to taste of truest Tliisby's sight. 
 
 " But stay;— O spite! 
 
 " But mark ; — Poor knight, 
 " What dreadful dole is here ! 
 
 " Kyes, do you see ? 
 
 " How can it be ? 
 " O diiinfy du.-k ! O dear! 
 
 " Tliy mantle good, 
 
 " Wliat. stain'd with blood" 
 
 "Approach, ye furies fell! 
 " O fates ! come, come ; 
 " Cut thread and thiuiii ; 
 " Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!" 
 The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, 
 would go near to make a nian look snd. 
 
 Hip. Beshrew my heart, but 1 pity the man. 
 Pyr. " O, wherefore, nature, didst ttiou lions 
 
 frame? 
 " Sihce lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: 
 " Which is — no, no — which was the t:iiiest dame, 
 " That liv'dj that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'J 
 «ith cheer. 
 " Come, tears, confound ; 
 " Out, sword, and wouLci 
 " The pap of Pyramus : 
 " Ay, that left pap, 
 " Where heart doth hop: — 
 " Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 
 " Now am I dead, 
 " Now am 1 fled ; 
 " My soul is in the sky : 
 
 " Tongue, lose thy light ! 
 " Moon, take thy flight ! 
 " Now die, die, die, die, die." (Dies.) 
 
 [Exit Moonshine. 
 Dem. Nodie, butan ace, for him; for tie is butone. 
 Lys. Less than an ace, man ; for he is dead ; he 
 is nothing. 
 
 The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet 
 recover, and prove an ass. 
 
 Hip. How chance moon shine is gone, before 
 Thisbe con\es back and finds her lover? 
 
 The. She will find him by star-light. — Here she 
 comes ; and her passion ends the play. 
 
 Enter Thisbe. 
 
 Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, 
 for such a Pyramus: I hops, she will be brief. 
 
 Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Py- 
 ramus, which Thisbe, is the better. 
 
 Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet 
 eyes. 
 De7n. And thus she moans, videlicet. — 
 This. " Asleep, my love ? 
 
 " What, dead, my dove ? 
 " O Pyramus, arise, 
 
 " Speak, speak. Quite dumb? 
 "Dead, dead? A tomb 
 " Must cover thy sweet eyes. 
 
 " These lily brows, ' 
 
 " This cherry nose, 
 " These yellow cowslip cheeks, 
 " Are gone, are gone : 
 " Lovers, iiMike moan! 
 " His eyes were green as leeks. 
 " O .sisters three, 
 " Come, come to me, 
 " With hands as pale as milk ; 
 " Lay them in gore, 
 " Since you have shore 
 " With shears his thread of silk ' 
 
 " Tongue, not a word : — 
 " Come, trusty sword ; 
 " Come, blade, my breast imbrue 
 " And farewell, friends ; — 
 " Thus Thisbe ends : 
 " Adieu, adieu, adieu." (Dies.) 
 
 The. Moon-shine and lion are left to bury the 
 dead. 
 
 Dem. Ay, and wall too. 
 
 Bot. No, I assure you ; the wall is down that 
 parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the 
 epilogue, or to hear a Beigomask dance, between 
 two of our company. 
 
 The. No epilogue, I pray yon; for your play 
 needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when tli*^ 
 players are all dead, there need none to he blauifd. 
 Marry, if he that wiit it had played Pyrani'is, aud 
 hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have 
 
126 
 
 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very 
 
 notably discharged. But come, your Beigoniask : 
 
 let your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Cloivns.) 
 
 The iron tongr.e of midnight hath told twelve : — 
 
 Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time. 
 
 I fear we shill oiit-sleep the coming morn, 
 
 As much as we this night ha\e overwatcli'd. 
 
 This palpable-gross play hath well begiiil'd 
 
 The heavy gait of night.— Sweet friends, to bed. 
 
 A fortnight hold we this solemnity, 
 
 In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter PucK. 
 
 Puck. Now the hungry lion roars. 
 
 And the wolf behowls the moon ; 
 Whilst the heavy plonghnian snores. 
 
 All with weary task fordone. 
 Now the wasted brands do glow. 
 
 Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, 
 Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, 
 
 Id remembrance of a shroud. 
 Now it is the time of night, 
 
 That the graves, all ga [ting wide. 
 Every one lets forth his sprite, 
 
 In the church-way paths to glide : 
 And we fairies, that do run 
 , By the triple Hecat's team, 
 From the presence of the sun, 
 
 Following darkness like a dream. 
 Now are frolic ; not a mouse 
 Shall disturb this hallow'd house : • 
 I am sent, with broom, before. 
 To sweep the dust behind the door. 
 
 Enter Oberon ««</ Titania, with their train. 
 Obe. Through this house give glimmering light. 
 By the dead and drowsy fire : 
 Every elf, and fairy sprite. 
 
 Hop as light as bird from brier ; 
 And this ditty, after me. 
 Sing, and dance it trippingly. 
 Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote : 
 To eacb word a warbling note. 
 
 Hand in hand, with fairy grace. 
 Will we sing, and bless this? place. 
 
 SONU, AND DANCE. 
 
 Obe. Novv, until thi' break of day, 
 'i'lirougli this house each fairy stray. 
 To the best bride- bed will we. 
 Which by us shall blessed be; 
 And the issue, there create. 
 Ever shall be fortunate. 
 So shall all the couples three 
 Ever true in loving be : 
 And the blots of nature's hand 
 Shall not in their issue stand; 
 Never mole, hare lip, nor scar. 
 Nor mark prodigious, such as are 
 Despised in nativity. 
 Shall upon their children be. — 
 With tills field-dew consecrate. 
 Every fairy take his gait ; 
 And each several chamber blesa. 
 Through this palace with sweet peace : 
 E'er shall it in safety rest, 
 And the owner of it blest. 
 
 Trip away ; 
 
 Make no stay ; 
 Meet nie all by break of day. 
 
 [Exeunt Oberon, Titania and train 
 
 Puck. If we shadows have offended, 
 
 Think but thin, {and all is mended,) 
 
 That yon have but sliimber'd here, 
 
 While these visions did appear ; 
 
 And this iveak and idle theme. 
 
 No more yieldmy bnt a dream, 
 
 (ientU's, do not reprehend ; 
 
 If you pardon, we ivill mend. 
 
 And. as I'm an ho?iesi Puck, 
 
 If we hare unearned luck 
 
 Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 
 
 TVe will make amends, ere long : 
 
 Else the Puck a liar call. 
 
 So, good night unto you all. 
 
 Give me your hanJ.^. if we be friendt. 
 
 And Robin shall restore atxends. [Exit. 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 In this pla/, wliich all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejVcted as unworthy of our poet, 
 rt must be confessed lliat tliere are many passages iiieau, cliildish, and vulgar: and some which ouslit not to have 
 been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a maiden queen. But there are scattered through the whole manv 
 sparks of geniuij nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 FERDINAND, King of Navarre. 
 
 15IR0X, 
 LO.NG.WILLE, 
 DUM.4IN, 
 BO YET, 
 MEKCADE, 
 
 Lords, attending on the King. 
 
 > Lords, attending on the Princess of 
 
 i France. 
 
 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a fantastical Spaniard. 
 SIR NATHANIEL, a Curate. 
 HOLOFERNES, a Schoolmaster. 
 DULL, a Constable. 
 
 CCSTARD, a Clown. 
 
 MOTH, Page to Armada. 
 
 A Forrsler. 
 
 PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 
 
 ROSALINE, / 
 
 MAR1\, > Ladies, attending on the Princes*. 
 
 KATHARINE, S 
 
 JAgUENETTA, a country Wench. 
 
 Officers and Others, Attendants on the King and 
 Princess. 
 
 Scene, — Navarre. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Navarre. A Parle ivtth a Palace m it. 
 Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and 
 
 DUiMAIN. 
 
 King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, 
 Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, 
 And then grace us in the di.sgrace of deatli; 
 When, spite of cormorant devouring time, 
 The endeavour of this present breath may buy- 
 That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen 
 And make us heirs of all eternity. [edge, 
 
 Therefore, brave conquerors ! — for so you are. 
 That war against your own affections. 
 And the huge army of the world's desires, — 
 Our late edict shall strongly stand in force : 
 Navarre shall be the wonder of the world ; 
 Our court shall be a little academe. 
 Still and contemplative in living art. 
 You three, Biron, Dnmain, and Longaville, 
 Have sworn for three years' term to live with me. 
 My fellow scholars, and to keep those statutes, 
 That are recorded in this schedule here : 
 Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names : 
 That his own hand may strike his honour down. 
 That violates the smallest branch herein : 
 If you are arm'd to do, a.s sworn to do. 
 Subscribe to your deep oath, and keep it too. 
 
 JLong. 1 am resolv'o : 'tis but a three years' fast ; 
 The mind shall banquet, though the body pine : 
 Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits 
 Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the wits. 
 
 Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified ; 
 The grosser manner of these world's delights 
 He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves: 
 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die ; 
 With all these living in philosophy. 
 
 Biron. I can but say the protestation over. 
 So much, dear liege, 1 have already sworn, 
 That is, to live and study here three years. 
 But there are other strict observances : 
 As, not to see a woman in that term ; 
 Which, I ho|)e well, is not enrolled there : 
 Aud, one day in a week to touch no food ; 
 And bnt one meal on every day beside ; 
 The which, I hope, is not enrolled there : 
 And then, to sleep but three hours in the night. 
 And not be seen to wink of all the day; 
 (When I was wont to think no harm all night. 
 And make a dark night too of half the day ;) 
 Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there : 
 O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep ; 
 Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep. 
 
 King. Y our oath is pass'd to pass away from these. 
 
 Biron. Let nie say no, my liege, an if you please ; 
 I only swore to study with your grace. 
 
 And stay here in your court for three years' space. 
 
 Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest, 
 
 Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest — 
 What is the end of study ? let me know. 
 
 King. Why, that to know, which else we should 
 not know. [common sense ? 
 
 Biron Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from 
 
 King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. 
 
 Biron. Come on then, I will swear to study so. 
 To know the thing I am forbid to know : 
 As thus, — To study where I well may dine. 
 
 When I to feast expressly am forbid ; 
 Or, study where to meet some mistress fine. 
 
 When mistresses from common sense are hid 
 Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath. 
 Study to break it, and not break my troth. 
 Jf study's gain be thus, aud this be so, \ 
 
 Study knows that, which yet he doth not know : > 
 Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say, no. S 
 
 King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, 
 And train our intellects to vain delight. 
 
 Biron. Why, all delights are vain ; but that most 
 vain, 
 Wliich, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain : 
 As, painfully to pore upon a book, 
 
 To seek the light of truth ; while truth the while 
 Doth falsely blind the ejresight of his look : 
 
 Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile: 
 So, ere you find where light in darkness lies. 
 \ our light grows dark by losing of your eyes. 
 Study me how, to please the eye indeed. 
 
 By fixing it upon a fairer eye; , 
 
 Who diizzling so, that eye shall be his heed. 
 
 And pive him light that was it blinded by. 
 Stiiity is like tiie heaven's glorious sun, 
 
 Tiuit will not bf deepsearcii'd with saucy looks; 
 Suiall have coutinnal plodders ever won. 
 
 Save buse authority from others' books. 
 These earthly godiatliers of heaven's lights, 
 
 That give a name to every fixed star, 
 Ha\e no more jirofit of their shining nights, 
 
 'I'han tho.se that walk, and "-ot not what they are 
 Too much to know, is to know nought but fame; 
 And every godfather can give a name. 
 
 King. How well he's read, to reason against 
 reading! [ceeding! 
 
 iJum. Proceeded well, to stop all good pro- 
 
 Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow tlii 
 weeding. _ [a-breeding 
 
 Biron. The spring is near, when green geese ar » 
 
 Dum. How follows that? 
 
 Biron. Fit in his place and time. 
 
 Dum. In reason nothing. 
 
 Biron. Something then in rhyme. 
 
 Long. Biron is like an envious sneapin^ frost. 
 That bites the first-borM infants of the spring. 
 
128 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act L 
 
 liinm. Well, say I ami why should proud sum- 
 mer boHst, 
 Uefore the birds li;ivc any cause to sing ? 
 Why should I joy m au aborti\e birth? 
 At Cliristmas i no more desire a rose, ) 
 
 Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows ;| 
 But like of each thing, that in season grows. ' 
 
 So you, to study now it is too late. 
 Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. 
 King. Well, sit you out: gohome, Biron ; adieu! 
 Biron. No, my good lord ; I have sworn to stay 
 with you : 
 And, tho;igh I have for barbarism spoke more. 
 Than for that angel knowledge you can say. 
 Yet confident I'll keep what I h«ve swore. 
 
 And bide the penance of each three years' day. 
 Give me the paper, let me read the same; 
 And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name. 
 King. How well (his yielding rescues thee 
 
 from shame ! 
 Biron. (Iteads.\ Item, That no tvoman shall 
 come within a mile of my court. — 
 And hath this been proclaim'd ? 
 
 liong. Four days ago. 
 
 Biron. Let's see the penalty. 
 {Reads.) — Onpain of losing her to?igue. — 
 
 Who devis'd this ? 
 Long. Marry, that did I. 
 Biron. Sweet lord, and why? 
 Long, To fright them hence with that dread 
 
 penalty. 
 Biro7i. A dangerous law against gentility. 
 {Reads.) Item, If any man be seen to talk tvith 
 a wotnan within the term of three years, he shall 
 endure such public shame as the rest of the court 
 can possibly devise. — 
 'J'liis article, my liege, yourself must break; 
 
 For well yon know, here comes in embassy 
 The French king's daugliter, with yourself to 
 apeak, — 
 A maid of grace, and complete majesty, — 
 About surrender upof Aquitain 
 
 To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: 
 Therefore this article is made in vain. 
 
 Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. 
 King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite 
 forgot. 
 
 Biron. So study evermore is overshot; 
 While it doth study to have what it would. 
 It doth ibiget to do tiie tiling it should : 
 And when it hath the tiling it hunteth most, 
 'Tis won, as towns with fire ; so won, so lost. 
 
 King. We must, of force, dispense with this de- 
 Siie must lie here on mere necessity. [cree ; 
 
 Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn 
 Tliree thousand times within this three years' 
 space : 
 For every man with his affects is born ; 
 
 Not by might inaster'd, but by special grace : 
 If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, 
 1 am forsworn on mere necessity. — 
 So to tiie laws at large I write my name : 
 
 (Subscribes.) 
 And he, (hat breaks them in the least degree. 
 Stands in attainder of eternal shame : 
 
 Suggestions are to others as to me ; 
 But, I believe, although I seem so loth, 
 I am the last, that will last keep his oath. 
 But is tiiere no quiok recreation granted ? 
 King. Ay, that there is : our court yo« know is 
 liaunted 
 With a refined traveller of Spain ; 
 A. man in all tlie world's new fashion planted, 
 Tliat hath a mint of phrases in his brain: 
 One, whom tiie music of his own vain tongue 
 
 Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony; 
 A man of complements, whom right and wrong 
 
 Have chuse as umpire of their mutiny : 
 This child of fancy, flu-t Armado hight, 
 
 For interim to our studies, shall relate. 
 
 In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 
 
 From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 
 How you delight my lords, I know not, I; 
 But, 1 protest, I love to hear him lie. 
 And I will use him for my minstrelsy. 
 
 Biron. .\rmado is a most illustrious wight, 
 A man of fire new words, fashion's own knight. 
 
 Long. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our 
 sport; 
 And so to study, three years is bnt short. 
 
 Enter Dull xvith a letter, and Costard. 
 
 Dull. Which is the duke's own person ? 
 
 Biron. Thi.s, fellow; What would'st? 
 
 Didl. I myself reprehend his own person, for I 
 am his grace's tharborough : but 1 would see his 
 own person in flesh and blood. 
 
 Biron. This is he. , 
 
 Dull. Signior Arme — Arme — commends you. 
 There's villainy abroad ; this letter will tell yon 
 more. [me. 
 
 Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching 
 
 King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. 
 
 Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in 
 God for high words. [us patience ! 
 
 Long. A high hope for a low having. God grant 
 
 Biron. To hear ? or forbear hearing ? 
 
 Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh mode- 
 rately; or to forbear both. 
 
 Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give n.* 
 cause to climb in the merriness. 
 
 Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning 
 Jaqiienetta. The manner of it is, I was taken vvitli 
 
 Biron. In what manner ? [the manner. 
 
 Cost. In manner and form following, sir ; all 
 these three : I was seen with her in the manor-house, 
 sitting with her upon (he form, and taken following 
 her into the park ; which, put together, is in man- 
 ner and form following. Now, sir, for the man- 
 ner, — it is the manner of a man to speak to a 
 woman : for the form, — in some form. 
 
 Biron. For the fuilowing, sir? 
 
 Cost. As it shall follow in ray correction ; and 
 Gnd defend the right ! 
 
 King. Will you hear this letter with attention? 
 
 Biron. As 1 would hear an oracle. 
 
 Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken 
 after the flesh. 
 
 King. {Reads.) Great deputy, the welkin's vice- 
 gerent, and sole doininator of Navarre, my soul's 
 earth's God, and body's fostering patron, — 
 
 Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. 
 
 King. So it is, — 
 
 Cost. It may be so : but if he say it is so, he iv, 
 in telling true, but so, so. 
 
 King. Peace. [fight! 
 
 Cost. — he to me, and every man that dares not 
 
 King. No words. 
 
 Cost. — of otiier men's secrets. I beseech you. 
 
 King. So it is, besieged with sable-coloured 
 melancholy, I did commerid the black-oppressing 
 humour to the most luholesome physic of thy 
 health-giving air; and, as I am a genlle;nan, 
 betook myself to walk. The time ivhen! About 
 the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds 
 best peck, and men sit down to that nourish- 
 ment which is called supper. So much for thi 
 time when : now for the ground which : ivhich 
 I mean I walked upon : it is ycleped thy park. 
 Then for the place where; where. I mean, 
 I did encounter that obscene and most preposte- 
 rous event, that dratueth from my snow-white 
 pen the ebon coloured ink, which here thou 
 viewest, beholdest, stirveyest, or seest : but to the 
 place, ivhere, — It standethnorth north east and 
 by east from the tvest corner of thy curious 
 knotted garden : there did I see that low-spirited 
 swain, that base minnow of thy viirth. 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King. — that unletter'd small-knowing soul. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST 
 
 129 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 Kinij. — thnt shallow vassal. 
 
 Cost. Still Mie. 
 
 King. — tvhich, as I remember, liiyht Costard, 
 
 Cost. O me ! 
 
 Kind. — sorted and consorted, contrary to thy 
 estfiolisl'ed pruclnimed edict and continent canon, 
 with — tcith — with — but with this I passion to 
 say wliere-ivith. 
 
 Cost. With a wench. 
 
 Kin(i — with a child of onr grandmother Eve, 
 a J'emole : or for thy more stveet 7indersttindinrj, 
 a ivoiHf(n. Him I [as my ever-esteemed duty 
 pricts n/e uii) have sent to thee, to receive the 
 meed uf/iio/ishment. by thy sweet (/race's ojjicer, 
 Antony Dull ; a man of youd repute, carriage, 
 bearinr/. and eslintatum. 
 
 Dull. IMe, ant sliail please you; I am Antony 
 Dull. 
 
 Kin;/. For Jaqiienetta, {so is the weaker vessel 
 called, ichich I apprehended with the aforesaid 
 swain.) I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury ; 
 and shall, at the least of thy siveet notice, bi ing 
 her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted 
 and heart-burning heat ofdvty, 
 
 Don Adriano de Akm.^do. 
 
 Biron. Tlii.s is not so well as 1 looked i'or, but the 
 best tli;it ever I heard. 
 
 King. Ay, the best for the worst. — But, sirrah, 
 what say you to this '! 
 
 Cost. Sir, I confess tlie wench. 
 
 King. Dill yon hear the proclamation ? 
 
 Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but 
 little of the niiirking of it. 
 
 King. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, 
 to be t.iken with a wench. 
 
 Cost. I was taken with none, sir; I was taken 
 with a damosel. 
 
 King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. 
 
 Cost. This was no damosel neither, sir; she was 
 a \iri;in. 
 
 King. It is so varied too ; for it was proclaime<l 
 vii>;iii. 
 
 Cost. If it wete, T deny her virginity; I was 
 taken with a maid. 
 
 King- This maid will not serve your turn, sir. 
 
 Cost. Tiiis maid will serve my turn, sir. 
 
 King. Sir, 1 will pronounce your sentence ; "i ou 
 shiill fast a week with bran and water. 
 
 Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and 
 porridge. 
 
 King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. — 
 My lord Biioii, see him deliier'd "Vr — 
 
 And s" we, lords, to put in practice that, 
 
 VVhirh each toother hath so strongly sworn.— 
 \Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumain. 
 
 Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat. 
 These oatiis and laws will prove an idle scorn. — 
 Sirrah, cotne on. 
 
 Cost. I siilfer for the truth, sir: for true it is, I 
 wa.s taken with Jaqiienetta, and .Jaqneiietta is a true 
 girl : and therefore, Welcome the sour cup of pros- 
 perity! Affliction may one day smile again, and till 
 then. Sit thee down, sorrow ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another of the same. Armado's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Armado and Moth. 
 Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great 
 
 spirit grows melancholy ? 
 
 Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. 
 
 Arm. Wliy, sadness is one and the self-same 
 thinu. Hear imp. 
 
 Moth. No, no ; O lord, sir, no. 
 
 Arm. How canst thou purt sadne.ss and melan- 
 choly, my tender juvenal? 
 
 Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the work- 
 ing, my tough senior. 
 
 Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior? 
 
 Moth. Why tender juvenal ? why tender juvenal? 
 
 Arm. I spnke it, tender juvenal, as a congrnem 
 epithetoii, appertaining to tliy young days, which 
 we may nominfite tender. 
 
 Moth. And 1, toiii>h senior, as an appertinent 
 title to your old time, which we may name tough. 
 
 Arm. Pretty, and apt. 
 
 Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my 
 sayiiig ajit? or I apt, aud my saying pretty ? 
 
 Arm. Thou pretty, because little. [apt? 
 
 Moth. Little pretty, because little : wherefore 
 
 Arm. And therefore ajit, because quick. 
 
 Moth- Speak you this ii my praise, master 
 
 Arm. In thy condigii praise. 
 
 Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praLse. 
 
 Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious? 
 
 Moth. I'hat an eel is quick. 
 
 Arm., I do say, thou art quick in answers : thou 
 heatest my blood. 
 
 Moth. I am answered, sir. 
 
 Arm. I love not to be crossed. 
 
 Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, crosses love 
 not him. {Aside.) 
 
 Arm. I have promised to study three years witti 
 the duke. 
 
 Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. 
 
 Ann. Impossible. 
 
 Moth. How many is one thrice told? 
 
 Arm. I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the spirit of 
 a tapster. 
 
 Moth. You are a gentleman, and a ganiester, sir. 
 
 Arm. I confess both ; they are both the v arnish 
 of a complete man. 
 
 Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much 
 the gross sum of deuce ace anioimts to. 
 
 Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. 
 
 Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three. 
 
 Arm. True. 
 
 Moth. Wiiy, sir, is this such a piece of study? 
 Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink : 
 and how easy it is to put years to the word three, 
 and study three years in two words, the dancing 
 horse will tell you. 
 
 Arm. A most fine figure ! 
 
 Moth. To I fove you a cypher. • {Aside.) 
 
 Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in love ; and, 
 as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love 
 with a base wench. If drawing my sword against 
 the humour of affection would deliver me from the 
 reprobate thought of it, I would take desire pri- 
 soner, and ransom him to any French courtier for 
 a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; me- 
 thinks, I should out swear Cupid. Comfort me, 
 boy: what gre^t men have been in love? 
 
 Moth, Hercules, master. 
 
 Arm. Most sweet Hercules!— More authority, 
 dear boy, name more ; ami, sweet my child, let 
 them be men of good repute and carriage. 
 
 Moth. Sampson, master: he was a man of good 
 carriage, great carriage ; for he carried the town- 
 gates on his back, like a porter: and he was in 
 love. 
 
 Arm. O well-knit Sampson ! strong-jointed Samp- 
 .son ! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as tliou 
 didst rae in carrying gates. I am in love too. — 
 Who was Sampson's love, my dear Moth ? 
 
 Moth. A woman, master. 
 
 Arm. Of what complexion? 
 
 Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, 
 or one of the four. 
 
 Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion? 
 
 Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir. 
 
 Arm. Is that one of the lour complexions? 
 
 Moth. As I have read, sir; aud the best of them 
 too. 
 
 Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but 
 to have a love of that colour, methiuks, Sampson 
 had small reason for it. He, surely, afi'ected her 
 for her wit. 
 
 Moth. It was so, sir; for .she had a green wit. 
 
 Ann. My love is most immaculate white and red 
 
 S) 
 
130 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act II 
 
 Moth. Most iiinfiilate tlionglits, master, are 
 masked nnder such colours. 
 
 Arm. Dt'fiup, define, well educated infant. 
 Mulk. My lather's wit, and my mothers tongue! 
 assist me ! [and patheticaj ! 
 
 Arm. Sneet in\ocation of a child ; most pretty. 
 Moth. If she be n«dde of white and red. 
 Her faults will ne'er be known; 
 For blushms; cheeks by faidts are bred. 
 
 And fears by pale-white shown: 
 Tlipn, if she fear, or be to blame, 
 
 liy this you shall not know; 
 For still her cheeks possess the same. 
 Which native she doth owe. 
 A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of 
 white and red. [and the Beggar V 
 
 Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King 
 MutJi. The world was very guilty of such a ballad 
 some three ages since : but, I think, now 'tis not to 
 be found ; or, if it were, it would neither serve for 
 the writing, nor the tune. 
 
 Arm. 1 will have the subject newly writ o'er, 
 that I may example my digiessioo by some mighty 
 precedt lit. Boy, 1 do lo\e that country girl, ihat 
 I took in the park with thf rational hind Costard; 
 she deserves well. 
 
 Mutfi. To be whipped ; and yet a better love than 
 my master. (Aside.) 
 
 Arm. .Sing, boy; my S))iiit grows heavy in love. 
 Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light 
 Arm. I say, siii^. [wench. 
 
 Mi)lh. Forbear till this company be past. 
 
 Enter Dull, Costard, ««c/ Jaqueketta. 
 
 Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep 
 Costaid safe : and you must let him take in) delight, 
 nor no penance ; but a' must fast three days a- week; 
 for this damsel, I must keep her at the park : she is 
 allowed lor the day-v\oman. Fare you well. 
 
 Arm. 1 do betray myself with blushing. — Maid. 
 
 J(iq. Man. 
 
 Ann 1 will visit thee at the lodge. 
 
 Jaq. 'I'hat's hereby. 
 
 Arm. I know where it is situate. 
 
 Jaq. Lord, how wise you are ! 
 
 Arm. I will tell thee wonders. 
 
 Jaq. VVitn that face '^ 
 
 Arm. I hive thee. 
 
 Jaq. So I heard you say. 
 
 Arm. And so larewell. 
 
 Joq. Fair weatlier alter you ! 
 
 Dud. Coine, Jacpienetta, away. 
 
 [Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. 
 
 Arm. Villain, thou shall fast for thy ofl'cnces, ere 
 thou be pardoned. 
 
 Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do 
 it on a full stomach. 
 
 Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished. 
 
 Cost. 1 am more bound to you, than your fellows, 
 for they are but lightly rewarded. 
 
 Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. 
 
 Moth. Come, you transgressing slave ; away. 
 
 Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast 
 being loose. [shalt to prison. 
 
 Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose; thou 
 
 Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of 
 desolation that 1 have seen, some shall see — 
 
 Moth. What shall some see'? 
 
 Cost. Nay nothing, master Moth, but what they 
 jook upon. It is not lor prisoners to be too silent 
 in their words ; and, therefore, I will say nothing: 
 [ thank God, 1 have as little patience as another 
 man ; and, therefore, I can be quiet. 
 
 [Exeunt Moth and Costard. 
 
 Arm. I do affect the very ground, which is base, 
 where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her 
 foot, which is basest, doth tread. I shall be for- 
 sworn, (which is a great argument of falsehood,) if 
 I love: and how can that be true love, which is 
 'falsely attempted i" Love is a familiar; love is a 
 
 devil : there is no evil angel but love. Yet Samp. 
 son was so tempted; and he had an excellent 
 
 strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he 
 had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft is too 
 hard for Hercules' club, and therefore too much 
 odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first and second 
 cause will not serve my turn ; the [lassado he re- 
 spects not, the duello he regards not : his disgrace 
 is to be called boy; but his glory is to subdue men. 
 Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still, drum! for 
 your manager is in love ; yea, he loveth. Assist 
 me, some exteniporal god of rhyme ; for, 1 am 
 sure, I shall turn sonneteer. Devise, wit; write, 
 pen ; for 1 am ibr whole volumes in folio. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Another jiart of the same. A Pavilion 
 and Tents at a distance. 
 
 Enter the Princess of France, RosAiiNE, 
 Marla, Katharine, Bovet, Lords, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest 
 spirits : 
 Consider who the king your father sends; 
 To whom he sends; and wliat's his embassy : 
 Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem ; 
 'J'o parley with the sole inheritor 
 Of all perfections that a man may owe, 
 Matchless Navarre ; the plea of no less weight 
 Than A(piitain ; a dowry for a queen. 
 Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. 
 As nature was in making graces dear. 
 When she did starve the general world beside, 
 And prodigally gave them all to you. [mean, 
 
 Prin. Good lord Boyet, my beanty, thougii but 
 Needs not the painted fluurisli ol your praise ; 
 Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye. 
 Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues: 
 I am less proud to hear you tell my worth, 
 Thau you much willing to be counted wise 
 In spending your wit iu the praise of mine. 
 But now to task the tasker, — Good Boyet, 
 You are not ignorant, ail-telling fame 
 Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, 
 Till oainfiil study shall out-wear three years. 
 No woman may approach his silent court: 
 Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course. 
 Before we enter his forbidden gates. 
 To know his pleasure ; and in that behalf. 
 Bold of your worth'iness, we single you 
 As our best-moving lair solicitor: 
 Tell him, the daughter of the king of France, 
 On serious business, crav'ing quick despatch. 
 Importunes personal conference with his grace. 
 Haste, signify so much ; while we attend, 
 Like humbly-visag'd suitors, his high will. 
 
 Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Prin. All pride is willing pride, and your's is so.— 
 Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 
 That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke "? 
 
 1 Lord. Longaville is <Jne. 
 
 Prin. Know you the man ? 
 
 Mar. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast. 
 Between lord Perigort and the beauteous lieir 
 Of Jaques Falconbridge solemnized. 
 In Normandy saw I this Longaville: 
 A man of sovereign parts he is esteemed ; 
 Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms : 
 Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. 
 The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, 
 (If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) 
 Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will ; 
 Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills 
 It should none spare that come within his power. 
 
 Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? 
 
 Mar. They say so most, that most liis hnmunrs 
 know. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 131 
 
 Prill. Such short liv'd wits do wither as tliey grow. 
 Will) :i.e the rest :' 
 
 Kath. Tlie yumi^v niim;iin, a well accouqilislrd 
 ()ia;l, that virtue love, for virtue lov'il : _ [youth, 
 Most power to do ui ist harm, least knowing ill; 
 For he hath wi* to inuke an ill shape good. 
 And suiipe to will '^ncv though he had no wit. 
 I s i\v hiu) at tue duke Alencon's once ; 
 .\nd mucli too little of that good 1 saw, 
 Is luy report, to liis great worthiness. 
 
 Ros. Auotlier of liic-;e stu.lents at that time, 
 Was there with hiin: if I have heard a truth, 
 Hiron they call hiui : but ^ merrier man. 
 Within ihe limit of becomiug mirth, 
 I never spent an hour's talk withal: 
 His eye begets occasion lor his wit ; 
 For every object that the one doth catch. 
 The other turns to a mirth-mo\ing jest; 
 Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
 Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
 That aged ears jjlay truant at his tales. 
 And younger hearings are quite ravished; 
 So s \ eet and \oluble is his discourse. 
 
 Prin. God bhss my ladies! are tliey all in love ; 
 That every one her own hath garnished 
 With such bedecking ornaments of praise? 
 
 Mar. liere comes Boyet. 
 
 Re-enter BoYET. 
 
 Prin. Now, what admittance, lord ? 
 
 Boijet. Navarre had notice of your f.ur approacli ; 
 And ne, and his competitors in oath. 
 Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady. 
 Before 1 came. Marry, thus much I have learnt. 
 He rather means to lodge you in the field, 
 (Like one that comes here to besiege his court,) 
 'I'han seek a dispensation for his oath, 
 'I'd let yon enter his unpeopled house, 
 flere comes Navarre. [The Ladies mask.) 
 
 Enter Kus(i, LoNGA"iLLE, DujiAiN, BiRON, and 
 Attendants, 
 
 Kinrj. Fair princess, welcome to the court of 
 Navarre. 
 
 Prin. Fair, I give you back again; and, welcome 
 I ha\e not yet: tiie roof of this court is too high to 
 he yours ; and welcome to the wild fields too base 
 to be mine. 
 
 Kinrj. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. 
 
 Prin. I will be welcome then ; cond.-ict me thither. 
 
 King. Hear me. dear lady ; I have sworn an oath. 
 
 Prin. Our lady help my lord ! he'll be forsworn. 
 
 himj. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. 
 
 Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and no- 
 thing else. 
 
 King. Vour ladyship is ignorant what it is. 
 
 Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise. 
 Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. 
 i hear your grace hath sworn out honse-keeping : 
 'Tis deadly sin to keep thai oath, my lord, 
 And sin to break it : 
 But pardon me, I am too suddenbo'id ; 
 To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. 
 Tonchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, 
 A.nd suddenly resoUe me in my s\\\i.{Gives a paper.) 
 
 King. Madam, I will, if suddenly 1 may. 
 
 Prin. Yon will the sooner, that I were away; 
 For you'll prove perjiir'd, if yon make tue stay. 
 
 Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? 
 
 Ros. Did not I dance with you iu Brabant once? 
 
 Biron. i know you did. 
 
 Ros. How needless was it then 
 
 To ask the question ! 
 
 Biron. You must not be so quick. 
 
 Ros- 'Tis long of you that spur me with such 
 questions. ['twill tire. 
 
 Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 
 
 Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 
 
 Biron. What time o'day ? 
 
 Ros. The hour that fools should ask. 
 
 Biron. Now lair befal your mask ! 
 
 Ros. Fair fall the face it covers! 
 
 Biron. Anil send you miiny lovers'. 
 
 Ros. .\uieri, so you be none. 
 
 h^ron. Nay, then will I be gone. 
 
 King. Madam, your father here doth intimate 
 The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; 
 Being but the one half oi an entire sum. 
 Disbursed by my father in his wars. 
 But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,) 
 Re<:eiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid 
 A hundred thousand more ; in surely of the uhicli. 
 One part of .Aquitain is bound to us. 
 Although not valued to tlie money's worth 
 If then the king your father will restore 
 But that one half which is unsatisfied. 
 We will gi\e up our right in Aquitain, 
 And hold fair friendship with his majesty. 
 But that, it seems, he little purposeth. 
 For here he doth demand to have repaid 
 An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands. 
 Oil payment ol a hundred thousand crowns, 
 I'o have his title live in Aquitain ; 
 Which we much rather had depart withal. 
 And have the money by our father lent, 
 Than Aquitain so gelded as it is. 
 Dear princess, were not his requests so far 
 From reason's yielding, your fair self should make 
 A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast, 
 And go well satisfied to France again. 
 
 Prin. You do the king my father too much 
 wrong, 
 And wrong the reputation of your name, 
 III so uiiseeming to confess receipt 
 Of that, which hath so faithlully been paid. 
 
 King. 1 do protest, 1 ne\er heard of it; 
 And, if' you'll prove it, I'll repay it back, 
 Or yield up Aquitain. 
 
 Pri?i. We arrest your word : — 
 
 Boyet, you can produce acquittnnces. 
 For such a sum, Iroiii sjiecial otticers 
 Of Charles his father. 
 
 King. Satisfy me so. 
 
 Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not 
 come. 
 Where that and other specialties are bound : 
 To-morrow you shall have a sight of fliem. 
 
 King. It shall suffice me: at which interview. 
 All liberal reason I will yield unto. 
 Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand. 
 As honour, without breach ol honour, may 
 Make tender of to thy true worthiness ; 
 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates ; 
 But here without you shall be so receiv'd. 
 As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart. 
 Though so denied fair harbour in my house. 
 Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell . 
 To-morrow shall we visit von again. 
 
 Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your 
 grace ! 
 
 King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place ! 
 [Exeunt King and his train. 
 
 Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my ovvn 
 heart. [be glad to see it. 
 
 Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations ; I would 
 
 Biron I would, you fieard it groan. 
 
 Ros. Is the fool sick? 
 
 Biron. Sick at heart. 
 
 Ros. Alack, let it blood. 
 
 Biron. Would that Ao it good? 
 
 Ros. My physic says, I. 
 
 Biron. VVill you prick't with your eye? 
 
 Ros. Nojjoynt, with my knife. 
 
 Biron. Now, God save thy life ! 
 
 Rus. And yours from long living ! 
 
 Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. {Retiring.) 
 
 Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word : What lady ia 
 that same ? 
 
 Boyet. The heir of Alen^on, Rosaline her name. 
 
132 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 Dutn. A g-aWant iady! Monsieur, fare you well. 
 
 [Exii. 
 
 Long. I beseech you a word : wluit is she in 
 the wiiite ? [the light. 
 
 Boyet. A wniiirin sometiiiies, an you saw her in 
 
 Loiiij. Percliance, light in the liyht : I desire 
 her name. 
 
 Buyi-.t. She hath but one for herself; to desire 
 that, were a shame. 
 
 Lonj. Pray you, sir, whose daughter ? 
 
 Boyet, Her motlier's, 1 have heard. 
 
 Luiu/. God's blessing on your beard ! 
 
 Bwjet. Good sir, be not oU'ended : 
 She is an heir oi Falconbriilge. 
 
 hony. Nay, my clioler is ended. 
 She is a most sweet lady. 
 
 Buyet. Not unlike, su- ; that may be. [Exit Lonrj. 
 
 Birun. VVliats her name, in the cap.'' 
 
 Boyet. Kiitliarine, by good hap. 
 
 Biron. Is she wedded, or no i 
 
 Boyet. 'I'o her will, sir, or so. 
 
 Birun. Vou are welcome, sir; adieu ! 
 
 Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. 
 [Exit Biron. — Ladies unmask. 
 
 Mar. That last is Biron, tlie merry mad-cap lord: 
 Not a word with him but a jest. 
 
 Boyet. And every jest but a word. 
 
 Ptin. It V. as well done of you to take him at his 
 word. [board. 
 
 Boyet. 1 was as willing to grapple, as he was to 
 
 Mar. Two hot slieeps, marry ! 
 
 Buyet. And wherefore not ships ? 
 
 No siieep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. 
 
 Mar. You sheep, an 1 1 pasture; shall that finish 
 
 Boyet. So you grant pasture lor me. [the jest i 
 
 {OJf'eriny to kiss her.) 
 
 Mar. Not so, gentle beast; 
 
 My lips are no common, though several they be. 
 
 Boyet. Belonging to whom V 
 
 Mar. To my fortunes and me. 
 
 Prin. Good wits will be jangling : but, gentles, 
 agree : 
 The civil vvarof wits were much better used 
 On Niivarre and his book-men ; tor here 'tis abused. 
 
 Boyet. Iliny observation, (which very seldom lies,) 
 By tlie hearts still rhetoric, disclosed with eves. 
 Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. 
 
 Prin. With what? 
 
 Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. 
 
 Prin. Your reason? [retire 
 
 Bouet. Why, all his behaviours did make their 
 To tlie court of his eye, peeping thorough desire : 
 His heart, like an agate, with your (irint impressed, 
 Proud with his form, in his eye [uide expressed : 
 His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see. 
 Did stumble with haste in his eyt-siglit to be ; 
 All senses to that sense did make tueir repair. 
 To teel only looking on fairest of fair : 
 Methought all his senses were lock'd in iiis eye, 
 As jewels in crystal lor some prince to buy; 
 Who, tend'ring tlieir own woith, from wliere they 
 
 were glass'd, 
 Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. 
 His face's own margent did quote such amazes. 
 That all eyes saw ins eyes enchanted with gazes: 
 I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his. 
 An you give him for my sake but one loung kiss. 
 
 Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd — 
 
 Boyet. litit to speak that in words, which liis eye 
 hatii disclos'd : 
 I only have made a mouth of his eye. 
 By adding a loiii;ue which 1 know will not lie. 
 
 Ros, Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st 
 skilfdiy. [of him. 
 
 Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news 
 
 Rys. Tn. n was Venus like her uiotlier; for lier 
 father is but grim. 
 
 Boyet. Do you hear, my mad weorhes? 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 hoyet. What then, do you see ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. 
 Boyet. You are too hard for inc. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Another part of the same. 
 Enter Armado and Mont. 
 
 Ari7i. Waible, child ; make passionate my seu.se 
 ol hearing. 
 
 Moth. ConcoUnel [Singing.) 
 
 Arm Sweet air! — Go, tenderness of years; lake 
 this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him 
 festinalely hither: J must employ him iu a letter to 
 my love. 
 
 Moth. Master, will you win your love with a 
 Fren( li brawl !* 
 
 Arm. How inean'st thou? brawling in French? 
 
 Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a 
 tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your 
 feet, humour it with turning up your eye-lids; sigh 
 a note, and sing a note; sometime through the 
 throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love ; 
 sometime through the nose, as it you snufi'ed tip 
 love by smelling love; witli your hat penthouse-like, 
 o'er the shop of your eyes ; with your arms crossed 
 on your thin belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; 
 or your hands in your pocket, like a man alter the 
 old painting ; and keep not too long in one tune, 
 but a snip and away : the.se are complements, these 
 are humours; these betiay nice wenches— ttiat would 
 be betrayed without these ; and make them men of 
 note, (do you note, men?) that most are affected 
 to these. 
 
 Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience? 
 
 Moth. By my penny of observation. 
 
 Arm. But O,— but O,— 
 
 Moth. — the hobby horse is forgot. 
 
 Arm. Callest thou my love, hobbyhorse? 
 
 Moth. No, master; the hobbyhorse is but a 
 colt, and your love, jicrhaps, a liackuey. But have 
 you Ibigot your love ? 
 
 Arm. Almost 1 had. 
 
 Moth. Negligent student ! learn her by heart. 
 
 Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. 
 
 Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three 
 I will prove. 
 
 Arm. What wilt thou prove ? 
 
 Muth. A man, if i live: and (his, by, in, and 
 without, upon the instant: by heart you love her, 
 because your heart ('annot come by lier : in heart 
 yoii love iier, because your heait is in love with her; 
 and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that 
 you cannot enjoy her. 
 
 Ann. I am ail the.se three. 
 
 Moth. And three times as much more, and yet 
 iiothiiig at all. [a letter. 
 
 Arm. Fet( h hither the swain; he must carry me 
 
 Moth. A message well sympathi2ed; a horse to 
 be ambassador fi<r an ass ! 
 
 Arm. Ha, ha ! what sayest thou ? 
 
 Muth. Marry, sir, jou must send the ass upon the 
 horse, lor lie is \ ery slovV-gaited : but 1 go. 
 
 Arm. The way is lint short; away. 
 
 Mulh. As swift as lead, sir. 
 
 Arm. 1 liy meaning, pretty ingenious ? 
 Is lilt lead a metal heavy, thill, and slow? 
 
 Muth. Minime, honest master; or rather, master. 
 
 Arm. 1 say, lead is slow. [no. 
 
 Muth. ' You aie too swift, sir, to say ao. 
 
 Is tiial lead slow whicti is fir'd tiom a gun? 
 
 Arm. Sweet smoke of rhelorickl 
 H reputes me a cannon ; and the bullet, that's he :— 
 1 shoot thee at the swain. 
 
 Moth, Thump tiien, and I flee. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Arm. A most acute juveiial ; voluble and freeof 
 giace ! 
 By thy favour, swe*it welkin 1 must sigh in thy Igce 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 1S3 
 
 Most riide melancholy, valour gives thee place. 
 My herald is retunvd. 
 
 Re-enter MoTH and Costard. 
 
 Moth. A wonder, master ; here's a Costard broken 
 in a shin. 
 
 Arm. Slime enifrma, some riddle : come, — thy 
 I envoy; — bejjin. 
 
 Cost. No egma, no riddle, no I' envoy ; no sa\\e 
 in tile mail, sir: O. sir, plantain, a plam plantain; 
 no f envoy, no I'envuy, no sahe, sir, but a plantain I 
 
 Arm. By virtue, tlion eniorcest laiiijliter; fhy silly 
 th(Uii;lit, my spleen ; tiie heaviiisr of niy lungs pro- 
 vokes nie to ridiculous smiling': O, pardon me. my 
 stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve iiir /'envoy, 
 and the word, I'envou, Tor a salve :' 
 
 Moth. Do the wise think them other ? is not 
 
 iiuake plain 
 isrourse, to 
 
 I em oy a .^alve ; 
 
 Arm. No, page : it is an epilog-ue or 
 SoMie ob-icute precedence, that hath tofbre been sain. 
 i will example it : 
 
 The Cox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 \\'ere still at odds, being but three. 
 There's the moral : now the I'envoy. 
 
 Muth. I will add the I'envoy : say the moral again. 
 Arm. The i'ox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 
 W ere still at odds, being but three. 
 Moth. Until the goose came out of door, 
 ,-\nd stay'd tlie odds by adding four. 
 Now will I begin your mural, and do you follow 
 with my I'envoy. 
 
 The lox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
 Were still at odds, being but three. : 
 Arm. Until the goose came our of door, 
 
 Staying tlie odds by adding four. 
 Motk. A g(x»d I'envoy, ending in the goose: 
 Would you desire tnore ? 
 Cost. The buy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, 
 that's flat:— 
 Sir. your penny wortli is good, an your goose be fat. — 
 'I'osell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose : 
 Let nie see a fat I envoy ; ay, that's a (at goose. 
 Arm. C-o:ue hither, come hither: how did this 
 
 argument begin? 
 Mut/s. By saying that a Costard was broken in a 
 shin. 
 I'hen calrd you for the I'envoy. 
 
 Cost. True, and I lor a plantain : thus came your 
 argument in ; 
 Then the hoy's ft t I'envoy, the goose that you bought ; 
 And he ended the market. 
 
 Arm. But tell me ; how was there a Costard 
 broken in a shin ? 
 
 Motk. I will tell you sensibly. 
 Co.'.t. 'I'hou hast no feeling of it, Moth I I will speak 
 that /envoy. 
 
 I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, 
 l^'ell over tlie threshold, and broke my shin. 
 Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. 
 Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. 
 Arm. Sirrah Custard, I will enfranchise thee. 
 Cost O marry me to one Fiances ; — 1 smell 
 some /'envoy, some goose, in this. 
 
 Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at 
 Jjberty, enfreedomiog thy person > thou wert im- 
 mured, restrained, captivated, bound. 
 
 Cost. True, true; and now you will be my pur- 
 gation, and let me loose. 
 
 Arm. I give tliee thy liberty, set thee from dur- 
 ance: and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nuthiiig 
 but this: bear this signiliLunt to the country luiiid 
 Jamii'iietta : there is remuneration ; {yivttiy /lim 
 tnoneif) lor the best ward of mine lioiio ir is. re- 
 vvaidiiig my dependenis. Moth, iullow. [Exit. 
 
 Mot/t Like the sequel, I. — Signior Costard, ailim. 
 Cost. iMy sweet ounce of man's llfsli 1 uiy luciuiv 
 Jew! [Ex'U Moth. 
 
 Now will I look to his remuneration, lieuimie- 
 rntiou! O, that's the Latin word I'or three iiirthiugs: 
 three farthings — remuueratiou.— Whats tlie pr'ice 
 
 of this inkle ? a penny : — No, I'll give you a rem» 
 neration: uhy. it carries it. — Reniuueriition I— 
 why, it is a fairer name than Fremh crown. I will 
 never buy and sell out of this word. 
 
 Enter Biron. 
 
 B'lron. O, tny good knave Costard ! exceedingly 
 well met. 
 
 Cost. Pray yon, sir, how much carnation ribbon 
 may a man buy for a remuneration? 
 
 li'iron. What is a remuneration? 
 
 (.'ost. Marry, sir, ball' penny lai thing. 
 
 Biron. O, why then, tliree-farthin-js vvorlh of silk. 
 
 Cost. I thank your worsliip: (Jud be with you! 
 
 Biron. O, slay,sla\e; I must employ thee : 
 As tliou wilt win my favour, good my knave. 
 Do one thing for me that I shall t ntrrat. 
 
 Cost. Wlien woiihl you have it done, sir? 
 
 Biron. O. this afternoon. 
 
 Cost. Wi II, I will do it, sir: fare you well. 
 
 Biron. O, thou knovvrst not whit it is. 
 
 Cost. 1 shall know, sir, when I have done it. 
 
 Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. 
 
 Cost. 1 will come to your worship to-inorrow 
 morning. 
 
 Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, 
 slave, it is but tins ; 
 
 The firincess comes to hunt here in the park. 
 And in her train there is a gentle lady ; 
 When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her 
 
 name. 
 And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; 
 And to her white hand .see thou do commend 
 This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon ; go. 
 
 (Gives him money.) 
 
 Cu.it. Guerdon, — O, sweet guerdon ! better tlian 
 remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better : most 
 sweet guerdon ! — I will do it, sir, in print. — 
 Guerdon — remuneration. [Exit. 
 
 Biron. O I — .And I, forsooth, in love ! I that have 
 been love's whip ; 
 A very beadle to a humorous sigh ; 
 A critic ; nay, a niglit-vv;iteh constable ; 
 A domineering pedant o'er the buy, 
 'J'han whom no mortal so magnificent; 
 'i'his wimpled, vvhiniug, purblind, wayward boy; 
 This senior junior, giantdvvart, Dan Cupid ; 
 Regent ot love-rhymes, lord of folded arms. 
 The anointed so>eri'ign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 
 Dieal prince of plackets, king of codpieces. 
 Sole imperafor, and great gem-ral 
 Of trotiing paritors, () my little heart! 
 And I to be a cor oral of his field. 
 And wear his colours like a tiiuibler's hoop! 
 What? I ! 1 love ! I sue ! I seek a wile ! 
 A woman, that is like a German clock, 
 Still a repairing; ever out of frame ; 
 And never going aright, being a watch, 
 But being watcli'd tliat it may still go right? 
 Nay, to be perjur'd, which is woistot'all; 
 And, among th.ee, to love the worst ol all ; 
 A vvliitely wanton with a velvet brow, 
 With two pitch balls stuck in her tace for eyes; 
 Ay, and, by heaven, one tliat will <!o tlie deed, 
 'l'lii>n:;h Argus we.e her eunuch and lipr guard: 
 And I to sigh tor her! to vvatcii for her! 
 'i'o pray for In-r I Go to. it is a plague, 
 'I'hut Cupid will impose for my neglect 
 Of Ins aimighty dreadful little might. 
 Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groaa: 
 Some men must love my huly, and soii.e Joan. [E.xit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Another part of the same. 
 
 Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria. Katfia- 
 KlNE, HovET, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester. 
 
 Prill. Was that tlie king, that spun'd his horse 
 so hard 
 
1S4 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Agninst the steep uprising of the hill ? 
 
 Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not lie. 
 
 Prm. Whoe'er lie was, he show'd a mounting 
 mind. 
 Well, lords, to-day we shall have onr despatch ; 
 On Saturday we will return to France. — 
 Then, i'oiester, my friend, where is the bush. 
 That we must stand and play the murderer in? 
 
 For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice ; 
 A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot. 
 
 Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair tiiat shoot, 
 And thereupon thou speak st, the fairest shoot. 
 
 for. Pardon me, madam, for 1 meant not so. 
 
 Prin. What, what 1 first praise me, and again 
 say, no? 
 O short-liv'd pride ! not fair ? alack for woe I 
 
 For. Yes, madam, fair. 
 
 Prin. Nay, never paint me now ; 
 
 Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. 
 Here, good my glass, take this for telling true ; 
 
 {Giviny him money.) 
 Fair payment for foul words is more tlian due. 
 
 For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. 
 
 Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. 
 O heresy in i'air, fit tor tiiese days i 
 A giving hand, though foul, sliall have fair praise. — 
 But come, tiie bow: — Now mercy goes to kill. 
 And shootin.^ well is then accounted ill. 
 Thus will 1 save my credit in the shoot : 
 Not wounding, pity would not let me do't ; 
 If wounding, tiien it was to show my skill, 
 That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. 
 And, out of question, so it is sonietiiiies; 
 Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ; 
 Wlien, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, 
 We bend to that the working of tht- heart : 
 As I, lor praise alone, now seek to spill 
 The poor deer's blood, tliaf my heart means no ill. 
 
 Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove- 
 reiiigty 
 Only lor praise' sake, when tiiey strive to be 
 Lords o'er their lords? 
 
 Prin. Only for praise : and praise we may afford 
 To any lady tliat subdues a lord. 
 
 Entf.r Costard. 
 
 Prin. Here comes a member of the common- 
 wealth, [the head lady ? 
 
 Cost. t-Jod dig-you-den all ! Pray you, which is 
 
 Prin. Tiioii shall know her, fellow, by the rest 
 that have no heads. 
 
 i'ost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest? 
 
 Prin. Tlie thickest, and the tallest. 
 
 Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; 
 
 truth is truth. 
 
 All your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, 
 
 One ol these maids' girdles ibr your waist should 
 
 be fit. [here. 
 
 Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest 
 
 Prin. VV hat's your will, sir i what's your wid ? 
 
 Cost. I ha\e a letter IVom monsieur Biion, to one 
 lady Ilosaliiie. (of mine : 
 
 Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter ; he's a good friend 
 Stand aside, good bearer. — Boyet, you can carve ; 
 Break up this capon. 
 
 Boyet. I am bound to serve. — 
 
 'J\'iis letter is mistook, it iuipoiteth none here; 
 It is writ to Jaqiienetta. 
 
 Prin. We will read it, I swear: 
 
 Brenk the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. 
 
 Boyet (Reads). By heaven, that thou art fair, 
 is most infallible ; true, that thou art beauteous ; 
 truth itself, tliat thou art lovely : more fairer than 
 fair, ben idiful than beauteous ; truer than truth 
 itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal ' 
 The may7iani/nuus and most illustrate kiiiy 
 Cophetiia A<?< eye upon tht pernicious and indubi- 
 tate. beyyar Ztiielo|ilioii ; and he it was that iniyht 
 rightly say, veni. Mdi. v;ci; ivhich to anatomize 
 in the vulyar, (0 base and obscure vulyurj ! 
 
 videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame : he came, 
 one; saiv. two; overcame, three. Who came f the 
 king ; Why did he come '! to see ; Why did he see ■ 
 to overcome: To whom came he ! to the beggar; 
 What saiv he ? the beggar ; Who overcame he ? 
 the beggar : The conclusion is victory ; On 
 whose side/ the king's : the captive is enrich' d; 
 On ivhose side ! the beggar s ; The catastrophe is 
 a ntiptial ; On whose side! The king's? — no, ott 
 both in one, or one in both. I am the kntg ;Jor so 
 stands the co7nparison : thou the beggar; for so 
 witnesseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thy 
 love! I may : Shall I enforce thy love! I could: 
 Shall 1 entreat thy love ! I will. What shalt 
 thou exchange for rags! robes; For titles, titles; 
 For thyself, tne. Thus, expecting thy reply, 1 
 profayie my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy pic- 
 ture, and my heart on thy ".very part. 
 
 Thine, in the dearest design of industry, 
 Don -Adkijvno de Arjia.'jo. 
 Thus dost thou hear the Neiuean lion roar 
 
 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey ; 
 Submissive fall his princely feet before, 
 
 And he from forage will incline to play : 
 But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thuu tlien ? 
 Food for his rage, repasture for his den. 
 
 Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indiln! 
 
 this letter ? [better V 
 
 What vane ? what weather-cock? did you e\er hear 
 
 Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember the 
 style, [ere while, 
 
 Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it 
 
 Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps 
 here in court ; 
 A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport 
 To the prince, and his book-mates. 
 
 Prin. Thou fellow, a word : 
 
 Who gave thee this letter? 
 
 Cost. I told you ; my lord. 
 
 Pri7i. To whom should'st thou give it i 
 
 Cost. From my lord to my lady. 
 
 Prin. From which lord, to which lady? 
 
 Cost. From my lord Biroii, a good master of mine, 
 To a lady of France, that he caii'd Rosaline. 
 
 Prin. Tliou hast mistaken his letter. — Come, 
 lords, away. 
 Here, sweet, put up this ; 'twill he thine another day. 
 [Exit Princess and train. 
 
 Boyet. Who is the suitor ^ who is the suitor ^ 
 
 Bos. Shall 1 teach you to know? 
 
 Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty. 
 
 Ros. Why, she that bears the bow. 
 
 Finely put off! [marry, 
 
 Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if Ihou 
 Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. 
 Finely put on ! 
 
 Ros. Well then, I am the shooter. 
 
 Boyet. Aud who is your deer? 
 
 Ros. If we cliuse by the horns, yourself: come 
 Finely put on, indeed! — [near. 
 
 Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she 
 strikes at the brow. [her now ? 
 
 Boyet. But she herself is hit lower : have I hit 
 
 Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old .saying, 
 that was a man when king Pepin of France was a 
 little boy, as touching the hit it ? 
 
 Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, 
 that was a woman when queen Uninever of Britain 
 was a little wench, as touching the hit it. 
 
 Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, (Singing.) 
 Thou canst not hit it, my good man. 
 
 Boyet. An I cannot, cannot^ cannot. 
 An I cannot, another can. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Katk. 
 
 Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did 
 fit it! [buth did hit it 
 
 Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they 
 
 Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that niark ; A 
 
 mark, says my lady! [be. 
 
 Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 135 
 
 Mar. Wide o' the bow hand ! I'faith your hand 
 
 is out. [hit the clout. 
 
 • Cost. Indeed, a' n)u.st shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er 
 
 Boyet. An it' my litind be ont, then, beliLe your 
 
 liaiid is in. Ithe pin. 
 
 Cost. Then will she get the npsliot by chaving; 
 
 Mar. Come, come, yon talk greasily, your lips 
 
 grow foul. 
 Cost. She's too hard for ynn at pricks, sir; chal- 
 lenge her lo bowl. 
 Boyet. 1 tear too much rubbing:; Good night, my 
 good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria. 
 Cost. Bv n\y soul, a swain I a most simple clown I 
 Lord, lord ! how the ladies and I lia\ e put iiiin down ! 
 O' luy trotli, most sweet jests I most incony vulgar 
 wit! [were, so lit. 
 
 When it comes so smoothly oiF, so obscenely, as it 
 Aimatlio o' the one side, — O, a nio-it dainty man! 
 To see liiui walk belbre a lady, and to bear her Ian I 
 To sie him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' 
 
 will swear I — 
 And his page o' t' other side, that handful ofvvitl 
 Ah, heavens, it is a most jiatlietical tiit ! 
 'Shotitiny loithhi.) Sola, sola 1 
 
 [Exit Custard, runulnrj. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. 
 Enter HoLOFERNES, &V Nathaniel, ^w^Doll. 
 
 Natk. Very reverent sport, truly ; and done in the 
 ti-sliinony ol r. good conscience. 
 
 Hul. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis, — 
 blood ; ri|)e as a pomewater, who now hangetli like 
 a jewel ill the ear of ctelo, — tiie sky, tlie welkin, 
 tlie lieaven ; and anon i'alleth like a crab on the tace 
 ai' terra, — tiie soil, the land, tiie eartli. 
 
 Nat/i. Truly, master Holofeines, the epithets are 
 sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, 
 I as'^iire \e, it was a buck of the first head. 
 
 Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, /taiid credo. 
 
 Dull. 'Twas not a hand credo ; 'twas a pricket. 
 
 Hoi. j\Iost barbarous intimation! yet a kind of 
 insinuation, as it were, in via, in way of explica- 
 tion; J'acere, as it were, replication, or rather 
 ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination, — alter 
 his undressed, nnpolislied, uneducated, nnprnned, 
 untrained, or rather niiltrttered, or, ratherest, un- 
 contiiiiied fasliion, — to insert again my hand credo 
 for a deer. [a pricket. 
 
 Didl. I said, the deer was not a hand credo ; 'twas 
 
 Hul. Twice sod simplicity, bis cocliis ! — O thou 
 nionsler ignorance, how deformed dost thou look ! 
 
 Nath. Sir, he hatli never led of the dainties that 
 are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper, as it 
 were he hatJi not drunk ink : his intellect is not 
 replenished ; he is only an animal, only sensible in 
 the duller parts ; 
 And such barren plants are set before us, that we 
 
 thankful should be 
 {Whi(h we ol taste and feeling are) for those parts. 
 
 that do trnctily in lis more than he. 
 For, as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, 
 or a fool, |a school : 
 
 So, were tliern a patch set on learning, to see liim in 
 lint, omue bene, say I ; being ol an olil iatlier's mind. 
 Many can brook the iveallier, that love not tlie 
 wind. [your wit, 
 
 Dull. Y oil two are bookmen : can you tell by 
 
 What was a month old at Cain's birtli, tliat's not 
 
 hve weeks old as yet i [man Dull. 
 
 Hul. Dictyiina, good man Dull ; Dictynna, good 
 
 Ihdl. Wiiaf is Dictynna f 
 
 Nath. A title .to Pnujbe, to Luna, to the moon. 
 
 Hoi. The moon was a month old, when Adam 
 was no more ; [fivescore. 
 
 And ranght not to five weeks, when he came to 
 Tfie alldsioii holds in the exchange. 
 
 Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the 
 exchange. 
 
 _ Hul. God comfort thy capacity ! T say, the allu- 
 sion holds in the exchange. 
 
 Dull. And I say, the pollusion holds in the ex- 
 change ; for the moon is never but a month old : 
 and 1 say beside, that 'twas a pricket that tiie pun- 
 cess kill'd. 
 
 Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal 
 epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour 
 the ignorant, I have call'd the deer the princess 
 kill'd, a pricket. 
 
 Nath. Perrje, good master Holofernes, perge ; so 
 it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. 
 
 Hoi. I will something affect the fetter; for it 
 argues facility. 
 
 T he ])rai'^eful princess pierc'd and priclc' da pretty 
 pleasing pricket ; 
 
 Some say, a sore ; but not a sore, till now made 
 sore with shootiny. 
 The dorjs did yell ; put L to sore, then sorelJ7tmps 
 from thicket; [huvting. 
 
 Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a- 
 If sore be sore, then L to sure makes fifty sores ; 
 
 sore L ! [more L. 
 
 Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one 
 
 Nath. A rare tilent! 
 
 Dull. If a talent be a claw, look how lie clav^s 
 him with a talent. 
 
 Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; 
 a foolish, extravagant spirit, full of forms, liguies, 
 shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revo- 
 lutions : these are begot in the ventricle of memory, 
 nourished in the womb ui pia mater; and delivered 
 upon tiie mellowing of occasion : but the gift is good 
 in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it 
 
 Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord lor you ; and so may 
 my parishioners; for their sons are well tutoi'd by 
 you, and their daughters profit very greatly under 
 you : you are a good member of the coiniiionwealth. 
 
 Hoi. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they 
 shall want no instruction : if their daughters be ca- 
 pable, 1 will [)at it to ihem: but, virsapit qui jtauca 
 loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. 
 
 Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Jaq. God give you jood niorrow, master per.son. 
 Hoi. Master person, — quasi Yntvii-oa. And if one 
 should be pierced, which is the one :" 
 
 Cost. IVlarry, master schoolmaster, he that is 
 likest to a hogshead. 
 
 Hoi. Of piercing a hogshead ! a good lustre of 
 conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, 
 pearl enough for a swine : 'tis pretty, it is well. 
 
 Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as ead me 
 this letter; it was given me by Costard, and seqt 
 me from Don Armatlio : I beseech you, read it. 
 Hul. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne 
 sub umbra . 
 
 Ruinlnat, — and so forth. Ah, good old Rlantuan! 
 1 may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice : 
 
 Vinegia, Vinegia, 
 
 Chi nun te vede, ei non te j>regia. 
 Old IMantuan I old Mantuan ! Who uiidersfandeth 
 tliee not, loves thee not. — Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. — 
 Under pardon, sir, what are the contents .'' or, rather, 
 as Horace says in his — What, my soul, verses'? 
 Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. 
 Hul. Let me liear a stall', a stuuza, a verse ; Lege, 
 dumtne. 
 
 Nath. If love make me forsworn, how shall I 
 
 swear to love ^ 
 
 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty 
 
 vowed I [prove ; 
 
 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful 
 
 'I'liose thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like 
 
 osiers bowed. [eyes ; 
 
 Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine 
 
 Where all those pleasures live, that art would 
 
 comprehend: (suffice. 
 
 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall 
 
 Well learned is tliat tongue, that well can thee 
 
 commend : [wonder; 
 
 All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without 
 
136 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 (Which is fo me some praise, that I thy parts 
 
 admire;) (fill tliunder, 
 
 Thy eye Jove's ligiitnin? bears, t!iy voice his dread- 
 
 Which, not to auger bent, is music, and sweet (ire. 
 Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong, 
 That sings heavens praise with such an earthly 
 tongue ! 
 
 Hoi. You find not the apostrophes, and so miss 
 the accent : let me sii|'ervise the canzonet. Here 
 are only numbers ratified ; but, for the elegancy, fa- 
 cility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius 
 Naso was tue man: and why indeed, N.iso ; but for 
 smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, tlie 
 jerks of invention? Imitari, is notuiiig : so dotti tlie 
 hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse 
 his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed 
 to vou /^ 
 
 Jaq. *Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of 
 the strange queen's lords. 
 
 Hoi. I will overglance the superscript. To the 
 snow ivhlle hand of the most beauteous Lady Ro- 
 saline. I will look, again on the iiitellectof the letter, 
 for the nomination of the party written unto. 
 
 Your ladysliip's in all desired employment, Bi- 
 RON. Sir Natliaiiiel, this Biroii is one of tiie votaries 
 with the king ; and here he hatli framed a letter to a 
 sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, 
 or liy the way of progiession, hath miscarried. — Trip 
 and go, my sweet; deliver tliis paper into the royal 
 hand of llie king; it may concern much : stay not 
 thy compliment; I forgive thy duty ; adieu. 
 
 Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. — Sir, God save 
 your life ! 
 
 Cost. Have with thee, my girl. 
 
 [Exeutit Cost, and Jaq. 
 
 Nath. Sir, you have done tins in the fearol God, 
 very religiously ; and, as a certain father saith 
 
 Hul. Sir, tell not me of the fallier, I do fear co- 
 lourable colours. But, (o return to the veises; did 
 tliey i>lease you, sir Nathaniel ' 
 
 JSfnth. Marvellous well for the pen. 
 
 Htil. I clo dine to-day at the father's of a certain 
 pupil of mine ; where if, bei'ore repast, it shall please 
 you to gratify tue table vvitli a grace, I will, ou my 
 niivilege 1 have with the parents of the foresaid 
 child or pupil, undertake your den venuto ; where I 
 will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither 
 saNonring of poetry, wit, nor invention : I beseech 
 your society. 
 
 Nath. And thank you too: for society (saith the 
 text), is the happiness ol life. 
 
 Hoi. And, certes, the text most infallibly con- 
 cludes it. — Sir, [to Dull) I do invite you too; you 
 shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. — Away; tlie 
 gentles are at game-, and wc will to our rerreatiou. 
 
 {Kxeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Another part of the same. 
 Enter BiRON, with a paper. 
 Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am 
 coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am 
 toiling in a pitch; pitch, tiiat defiles; defile ! a foul 
 word^ Well, Set thee down, sorrow I for so, they 
 s:iy, the tool said, and so say I, and I the fool. 
 Well proved, wit 1 By the Lord, this love is as mad 
 as Ajax : it kills sheej) ; it kills me, I a sheep: 
 Well proved again on my side I 1 will not love : if 
 I do, liang me; i'faith, 1 will not. O, but her eye, 
 — -by thiS light, but for her eye, I would not lo\e 
 her; yes, tor her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in 
 the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, 
 1 do love : and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to 
 be melancholy ; and here is part of iny rhyme, and 
 here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my 
 sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool .sent it, 
 and the lady liath it : sweet clown, sweeter foul, 
 sweetest lady ! By the world, I would not care a 
 pin, if the otaer three were in : here comes one 
 with a piper; God give him grace to groan. {Gets 
 up into a tree.) 
 
 Enter the King, with a paper. 
 
 King. Ah me ! 
 
 Biron. [Aside.) Shot by heaven! — Proceed! 
 sweet Cupid ; thou hast tliump'd him with thy bird- 
 bolt under the left pap : — I'taith secrets. — 
 
 King. [Reads.) So sweet a kiss the yolden sun 
 gives not 
 
 To those fresh morning drops vpun the rose, 
 As thy eye beams, when their fresh rays have 
 smote 
 
 The night of dew that on my cheehs down flows : 
 Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 
 
 Through the transparent bosom of the deep. 
 As doth thy face through tears of mine give light ; 
 
 Thou shin'st in every tear that I do lueep : 
 No drop but as a roach doth carry thee, 
 
 So ridest thou trihmphing in my woe ; 
 Do but behold the tears that sivell in me. 
 
 And they thy glory through my grief will show : 
 But do not love thyself; then thou iviil keep 
 My tears for glasses, and still moke me weep. 
 O queen of queens, hotv far dost thou excel! 
 No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.— 
 How shall she know my griefs r I'll drop the paper; 
 Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes h^re '? 
 
 [Steps aside.) 
 
 Enter LoNCAViLLE, with a paper. 
 What, Longaville! and reading I listen, ear. 
 
 Biron. Now, iu thy likeness, one more fool ap- 
 pear ! [Aside.) 
 Long. Ah me ! I am forsworn. 
 Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, vvearinj* 
 papers. [A.-iide.) 
 King. In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in 
 shame I [Aside.) 
 Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Long. Am I the first that have been peijnr d so :* 
 Biron. [Aside.) I could put thee in comfort ; not 
 by two, tliat 1 know : (society. 
 
 Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-ca[) of 
 The .shape of Love's Tyburn, that hangs up sim- 
 plicity. _ (move : 
 Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to 
 O sweet JMaria, empress of my love! 
 'I'hese numbers will I tear and write in prose. 
 Biron. [Aside.) O, rhymes are guards on vvantoo 
 Cupid's hose : 
 Disfigure uot his slop. 
 
 Long. This same shsl! go — 
 
 [He reads the sonnet.) 
 Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 
 
 ['Gainst whom the world cannot hold argti- 
 mmt.) 
 Persuaae my hea^t to this false perjiery? 
 
 Voios.J'or thee />ruke. deserve not punishment. 
 A woman I forswore ; but, I will //rove. 
 
 Thou being a goddess, I forsivore not thee: 
 3]y vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
 
 Thy grace, being gnin'd cures all disgrace in me. 
 Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is : 
 Then tlwu. fair sun, ivhich on my earth dosi 
 shine, 
 Exhal'st (his vapour vow ; in ihee it is: 
 If broken then, it is no fault of mine ; 
 If by me broke. What fool is not so wise, 
 To lose an oath to win a paradise t 
 Biron. [Aside.) 'I'his is the liver vein, which 
 makes lit sli a deity : 
 A green goose, a goddess : pure, pure idolatry. 
 God aineiid us, God amend ! we are mu(;h out o' the 
 way. 
 
 Enter Dumain, with a paper. 
 Long. By whom shall \ send this? — Company 2 
 stay. [Stepping itsiUe. 
 
 Biron. [Aside.) All hid, all hid, an o.d uilanl jilay 
 Like a demi-goii here sit I in the sky. 
 And wretched fools' secrets heedtudy o'er-eye. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 137 
 
 M')ies;(ckstothe mill.' heavens, I have my wish! 
 I>iim;iiri tiiiiist'uiiirfl : lour woodcocks in a dish! 
 
 JJiim. O most divine Kate ! 
 
 Biroti. O most (jfolane coxcomb ! {Aside.) 
 
 Dum. I5y lieaven, tlie wondtr oJ a mortal eye! 
 
 Birutt. iiy heart, she is but corporal; there you 
 lie. {Aside.) 
 
 Dum. Her amber hairs lor foul have amber coteil. 
 
 Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well noteil. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Dum. As upright as the cedar. 
 
 Btron. ..^K. Stoo;/, I .say ; 
 
 Her siio ilder is with child. {Aside.) 
 
 Dum. As fair as day. 
 
 Biron. Ay, as .some days ; but llien no sun must 
 shin. . {Aside.) 
 
 D/ii/i. () ui.it I had my wisli! 
 
 Lumj. And I li;<d mine I {Aside 
 
 Kinij. .\nd I mine too. <;ood Uird ! (Aside. 
 
 Birun. Amen, so 1 had uiine : is not that a i^ood 
 word i [Aside.) 
 
 Di/iu. I would forget her; but a fever she 
 Reii;o> m my blood, and wdl reuieinber'd be. 
 
 Birun. A fever in your Id iid, why. then lueislon 
 VVoulil let her out in s.iuceis; swei t mispiisionl 
 
 • {A^ide.) 
 
 Dum. Ouce more 1 11 read the ode that 1 have 
 wiir. 
 
 Birun. Once more I'll mark how love can \ary 
 wit. {Aside.) 
 
 J)um. Oh a day, (alack the day !j 
 
 liove.,whuse muni k is ever May, 
 
 Spied a dtussum. passiny Jair, 
 
 Plriyi>i(] in Ike wanton air : 
 
 Thr<)!iij/i the velnei leaves the irind, 
 
 All unseen, 'yan jjassaijejind: 
 
 'JVi.rit the lover, sick to death. 
 
 ff^ ish d himself the heaven s breath. 
 
 Air. q lOHi ae. thy clieclcs may blow; 
 
 Air, ivould I m/i/ht tr/u/tipk su ! 
 
 B'lt alack, my h nd ts sivorrt. 
 
 Ne er lu jtlucK theejiom thy thorn : 
 
 Vow, alack, fur youth unmeet ; 
 
 Youth, so apt to jUuck a sweet. 
 
 Dc not call it sm in me. 
 
 That I am forsworn for thee : 
 
 Thou.fjr whom even Jove would swear, 
 
 Juno lint an Ethiop were ; 
 
 And deny himse/J for Juve, 
 
 Turninij mortal Jor thy love. — 
 
 This will 1 send ; and souiethinjr else more plain, 
 Thatsliall express my true love's la'sting pain. 
 O, would the Iviug. iiiion, and Lounaville, 
 VVere lovers too 1 HI, to example ill. 
 Would Irom my forehead wip a peijurd note; 
 For iioue oll'end, where all alike do dole. 
 
 Jjony. Dum (in, {advancing) tiiy love is far from 
 charity, 
 That in love's giitf des r'st socu-ly : 
 V'oi! t:.ay loiik pale, but I should blush, I know, 
 To be o'eiiieard. and taken nappiui; so. 
 
 Kiny. Come, sir, {advancintj) you blush; as his 
 your case is such ; 
 You chide at hirn, uireiidiu;;' twice as much ; 
 You do not love Maiia; L(ui<^.ivdle 
 Did never sonnet loi' her sake coniiiile ; 
 Nor nevei lay his vvr^alhMl arms athvvart 
 His lonn;^ bosom, to k 'p down his heart! 
 I have been closely si.ro uled in Liis bush. 
 And mark'd you both, .iiid hu you both did blush. 
 I hearfl your ^u.lty rhymes, observ d your (ashion; 
 Saw sitrn.s reek iVom you, noted well your passion : 
 Ah me"! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries ; 
 Oiip, her liairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes : 
 You would for paradise break taitii and troth; 
 
 {To Long.) 
 And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oatii. 
 
 {To Dumiiin.) 
 What will Biron say, when that he shall hear 
 
 A faith irifringd, which such a zeal did swear? 
 How will he scorn ? how will he spend his wit? 
 How will he triumph, leap, and lani;li at it'? 
 For all the wealth that ever I did see, 
 i would not have him know so much by me. 
 
 Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. — 
 Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me. 
 
 {De.icends from the tree.) 
 Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove 
 These worms for loving, that ait most in love? 
 ^ our eyes do make no coaches ; in your tears, 
 There is no certain princess that appears ; 
 \oii'll not be perjured, 'tis a halelul thuig; 
 'I'ush. none but minstrels like oi' sonneting. 
 But are you not asliaiifd :" nay are you not. 
 All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot'? 
 \ on ioiind Ins nidte ; the king your mote did see; 
 But 1 a beam do tind in each of three. 
 
 0, \vh;il a scene of loolery I have seen, 
 
 l)t si>;l!s, ofgioans, ofsiurow, and of teen! 
 
 me, with What strict patience have 1 sat, 
 I'o see a king tiiinslormed to a gnat! 
 
 To see great Hen ules whipping a n<^g. 
 
 And prolouiid iSuliiiiion to lune a jigg, 
 
 And Nestor play at pusii-pin with the boys, 
 
 And critic 'I'iiikui laugh at idle toy.s ! 
 
 \V here lies thy :,riel; O tell nie, good Diimaiii, 
 
 .And, gentle Loiigaville, where lies thy pain V 
 
 .\\h\ vviieie my liege's? all about the breast: — 
 
 A candle, ho! 
 
 Kiny. '['oo bitter is thy jest. 
 
 Are we betray'd thus to tliy over-view? 
 
 Birun. Not yon by me, but I betray'd to you; 
 
 1, tliat am honest; I, that Imld it sin 
 To break the vow 1 am engaged in; 
 
 1 am betray'd. by keeping coin[)any 
 
 With moon like li.en, ot strange inconstancy. 
 When shall yon see me write a thing in rhyme? 
 Or groan lor Joan ? or spend a minute's time 
 In pruning me? Wnen shall you hear, that I 
 Will praise a hand, a foot, a lace, an eye, 
 A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, 
 A :eg, a limb ? — 
 
 King. Soft ; whitlier away so fast? 
 
 A tme man, or a tliief, that gallops so? 
 
 Biron. 1 post from love ; good lover, let me go. 
 
 Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Jaq. God bless the king! 
 
 Kiny. What present hast thou the^e ? 
 
 Cost. Some certain treason. 
 
 King. What nianes treason here ? 
 
 Cost N-iy, it makes nothing, sir. 
 
 Kiny. If it mar nothiug neither. 
 
 The treason, and yon, go in [leace away together. 
 
 Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be read ; 
 Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. 
 
 Kiny. Biron, read it over. {Giving him the letter.) 
 — Wliere hadst thou it? 
 
 Jaq. Of Costard. f 
 
 King. VVliere hadst thou it? 
 
 Cost Ol Dun Adrauiadio, Dun Adraraailio. 
 
 Kiny How now ! what is iu yon ? why dost thou 
 tear it? (not fear it. 
 
 Biro7i. A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs 
 
 Luny. It did move hini to passion, and therefore 
 let's hear it. 
 
 Dum. It s Biron's writing, and here is his name. 
 
 {Picks up the pieces.) 
 
 Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, {to Cos- 
 tard) you were biun to do me shame. — 
 Giiillv, my lord, guilty; I confess, 1 confess. 
 
 King. What? " 
 
 Biroti. Tint you three fools lack'd me fool to 
 make up the mess ; 
 He, he, and yiui, my liege, and I, 
 Are pick purses in love, and we deserve to die. 
 O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. 
 
 Dum. Now the number is even. 
 
 Biron. True, true; we are four: — 
 
138 
 
 LOYE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Will these turtles be gone ? 
 
 Kinij. Hence, sirs ; away. 
 
 Cost. Walk aside the true folk, ai)d let tlie traitors 
 stay. [Exeunt Cost, and Jaquenet. 
 
 Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us em- 
 brace ! 
 As true we are, as flesh and blood can be : 
 The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show liis face; 
 
 Young blood will not obey an old decree : 
 We cannot cross tlie cause why we were born; 
 Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. 
 King. Wliat, did these rent lines show some love 
 of thine? [heavenly Rosaline, 
 
 Biron. Did (hey, quoth you? Who sees the 
 That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 
 
 At the first opening- of the gorgeous east. 
 Bows not liis vassal liead ; and, sti ucken blind. 
 
 Kisses the base giound with obedient breast? 
 What peremptoiy eagle-sighted eye 
 
 Dares look upon the heaven oi' her brow. 
 That is not blinded by her majesty? [now? 
 
 King. What zeal, what fury liath inspir'd thee 
 My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; 
 8lie, an attending star, scarce seen alight. 
 Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron : 
 O, but for my love, day would turn to night I 
 Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 
 
 Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair clieek ; 
 Wliere several wortliies make one dignity ; 
 
 Wheie notliing wants, that want itselt doth seek. 
 Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, — 
 
 Fy, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not : 
 To things of sale a sellers praise belongs ; [blot. 
 
 iShe passes praise; then praise too siiort doth 
 A wither'd liernnt, fivescore winters worn, 
 
 Might shake off" fifty, looking in her eye : 
 Beauty doth varnish age, as if new born, 
 
 And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. 
 O, 'tis the sun that niaketh all things shine ! 
 King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. 
 Birun. Is ebony like her? O wood divine I 
 A wife of such wood were felicity. 
 O, who can give an oath ? where is a book ? 
 
 'I'hat I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack. 
 If that she it am not of her eye to look : 
 
 No face is fair, that is not full so black. 
 Kitiy. O par dox ! Black is the badge of hell, 
 'I'lie hue of dungeons, and the scowl of nigiit ; 
 And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. 
 
 Uiron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits 
 of light. 
 O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt. 
 
 It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, 
 Siiouid ravisii doters with a false aspect; 
 
 And therefore is she born to make black fair. 
 Her fa\aur tarns the fashion of the days; 
 
 For nati\e blood is counted painting now; 
 And therefore red, that would a\oid dispraise. 
 Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. 
 Diim. To look liiie her, are chimney-sweepers 
 black. _ [bright. 
 
 Long. And since her time, are colliers counted 
 King. And Ethiops of their sweet complexion 
 crack. (light. 
 
 Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is 
 Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain. 
 
 For fear their colours should be wash'd away. 
 King. "J\vere good yonrs did ; for, sir, to tell 
 you plain, 
 I'll hud a fairer face not wash'd to-day. 
 Biru7i. I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday 
 here. (she. 
 
 King. No devil will fright thee then so much as 
 Ihtm. I never knew man hold vile stulf so di-ar. 
 Jaong. Look, here's thy love : my foot and her 
 face see. [Showing his shoe.) 
 
 Biron. O, if the streets weie paved with thine 
 eyes, 
 Her fert were much (oo dainty for such tread ! 
 Dum. O vile 1 then as ^he goes, what upward lies 
 
 The street should see, as she walk'd over head 
 
 King. But what of this ? Are we not all in lo\ e ? 
 
 Biron. O, nothing so .sure; and tliereby all for- 
 sworn, [now prove 
 
 King. Then leave this chat ; and, good Biron, 
 Our loving lawful, and our laith not torn, [evil 
 
 Dum. Ay, marry, there ; — some flattery for thi 
 
 Long. O, some authority how to proceed ; 
 Some tricks, some quillets, liow to cheat the devil. 
 
 Dum. Some salve for perjury. 
 
 Biron. O, 'tis more than need ! — 
 
 Have at you then, affection's men at arms : 
 Consider, what you first did swear unto ; — 
 To fast, — to study, — and to see no woman ; — 
 Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. 
 Say, can you iast ? your stomachs are too young; 
 And abstinence engenders maladies. 
 And where that you have vow'd to study, lords. 
 In that each of you hath forsworn his book : 
 Can you still dreatn, and pore, and thereon look? 
 For when would you, niy lord, or y'>u, or you. 
 Have found the ground of study's excellence. 
 Without the beauty of a woman's face ? 
 From women's eyes this doctrine 1 derive ; 
 They are the ground, the books, the academes. 
 From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. 
 Why, universal plodding prisons up 
 The nimble spirits in the aiteries; 
 As motion, and long during action, tires 
 The sinewy vigour of the traveller. 
 Now, for nut looking on a woman's face. 
 You have in that ibrsworn the use of eyes; 
 And study too, the causer of your vow: 
 For where is any author in the world, 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? 
 Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, 
 And where we are, our learning likewise is. 
 Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes. 
 Do we not likewise see our learning there ? 
 O, we have made a vow to study, lords; 
 And ill that vow we have forsworn our books; 
 For when would you, my liege, or you, or you. 
 In leaden contemplation, have found out 
 Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes 
 Of beauteous tutors have enrirh'd you with? 
 Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; 
 And therefore finding bariv ii practisers. 
 Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: 
 But lo\e, first learned in a lady's eyes. 
 Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
 But with the motion of all eleiiif-nts. 
 Courses as swiit as thought in every power; 
 And gives to every power a double power, 
 Above their funetions and their offices. 
 It adds a precious seeing to the eye; 
 A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind : 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 When the suspicious head ol thelt is stopp'd ; 
 Love's (t'eliug is more suit, and sensible. 
 Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 
 Love's tongue proves dainty Bacciius gross in taste 
 Fur valour is not love a Hercules, 
 Still climbing frees in the HeS|iendes ? 
 Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet, and m isii al. 
 As bright Apollo's liitr, strung wi li liis hair ; 
 And, vviien love speaks, the voic ol all the gods 
 Makes heaven drowsy with the ariiKiuy. 
 Never durst poet touch a pen to uritr. 
 Until his ink were tein|.er'd with love's sighs. 
 O, then 'lis lints would ravisli savag- ears. 
 And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
 From women's eyes this doctrine 1 derive : 
 They sparkle still the right Prometiieaii fire ; 
 They are the books, the arts, the acideuies, 
 That show, contain, and nourish all the world; 
 Else, none at all in aiiglit proves evcellent; 
 Then fools you were tliese women to forswear; 
 Or, keeping what is sworn, you w d prove tools. 
 For wisdom's sake, a word that dl men love; 
 Or for love's sake, a word that I >ves all men; 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 139 
 
 Or for men's sake, tlie authors of these women; 
 Or women's sake, by wiioiii we men are men ; 
 Let us once lose our oatlis, to find ourselves. 
 Or else we lose ourselves, to keep our oaths : 
 It is reli),Mon to be thus forsworn; 
 For charity itself fulfils the law ; 
 A.nil who (an sever love from ciiarity? 
 
 Kinn. Siiint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the 
 field ! [lords ; 
 
 Blron. Advance your standards, and upon them, 
 Pellnifll, down w.tll tiiem I but be first advisd, 
 In conflict tliat you get tiie sun of them. 
 
 Lomj. Now to plain dealing;; lay tliese g;Iozes by: 
 Shall we resolve t) w.io these girls of France? 
 
 King. And win tlieiu too; tiierefore let us devise 
 Some entertainmen( lor them in their tents. 
 
 Birun. I''ir~(, from the ;> irk let us conduct tlienv 
 thither; 
 Then, lidNitwird, every man attach the hand 
 Of his lair unstress: in the afternoon 
 We will with soul'.- strange pastimi> solace them, 
 Such as the shortness of tlie tinie can sliajie ; 
 For revels, dances, m isks, and merry lionrs, 
 Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. 
 
 Kiiifj. Away, away I no time shall be omitted, 
 That will be time, and in^y by us be fitted. 
 
 Blron. Allans ! allon.'i ! — Sow'd cockle reap'd no 
 corn ; 
 .Arid justice always whirls in equal measure : 
 Light wenches m.ty prove plagues to men forsworn ; 
 If so, oiu' copper buys no better treasure. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Another part of the same. 
 Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, ayid Dlll. 
 
 Hul. Satis quod suj/icit. 
 
 N<itk. I praise G'ni lor you, sir: your reasons at 
 dinner ha\ e been sharp and sententious; pleasant 
 without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious 
 wilhoit iai|iudi iicy, learned witliO!i.t Ojiiuiiui, and 
 f'tiange without heresy. I did converse tiiis quon- 
 dam day with a companion of tlie king's, wliovis 
 intituled, nominated, or called, Don Ailriano de 
 Armado. 
 
 Hoi. Novi hominetn tanquam te: his humour is 
 loity, his discourse peremptory, his t.mg le filed, 
 his eye ambitions, his gait inaj -sticid, and his ge- 
 neral behaviour vain, rid.culoiis. and Tli asoniial. 
 He is too picked, too spruce, too aff cted, too odd, 
 as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. 
 
 Nath. A most singular and choice epitliet. 
 
 [Takes out his table bouh.) 
 
 Hoi. He draweth ont tlie thiead of Ins verbosity 
 finer than the staple ol his argument. I abhoi siicii 
 fanatical fantasms, such insociable and point devise 
 companions, such rackers of orthography, as to 
 speak, dout, fine, when he should say, doubt; det, 
 when he should pronounce, debt; d, e, b, t; not 
 d, e, t : he clepeth a calf, caul'; half, haiif; neigh- 
 bour, vocutur, neboiir; neigh, abhreviati-d, ne : 
 this is abnoiniiiable, (which he would call aboini : 
 able,)it iiisuiuatetli aie of iusanie; iVe intellirjis, do- 
 mine ! to make frantic, lunatic. 
 
 Niith. Lnus deo, bone inielligo. 
 
 Hoi. Bone! bone, lor bene : Piiscian a little 
 
 scratcii'd ; twill serve. 
 
 Enter ARiMADo, Moth, a7id Costard. 
 
 Nath. Videsne qiiis venit? 
 
 H.il. Video, "t ijaudeo. 
 
 Arm Chirra; [To Moth.) 
 
 Hoi. Quare Ciiirra, not sirrah ? 
 
 Arm. Men of pf^ace, Wfll euconnter'd. 
 
 Hoi. Most military sir, salutation. 
 
 Moth. Vn y tiavc been at a great feast of lan- 
 guaj^es. and stolen the sc ps. [To Custard, aside.) 
 
 Cost. O, tliey have lived lou:; m the alms basket 
 of Words 1 I marvel, tiiy master hath not eaten tliee 
 
 for a word ; for thou art not so long by the head as 
 honorijicabilitudinitatibus : thou art easier swal- 
 lowed ihau a tiap dragon. 
 
 Moth. Peace ; the peal begins. 
 
 Arm. Monsieur, [to Hoi.) are you not letter'd ? 
 
 Moth. Yes, yes ; he teaches boys the hornbook :— 
 What is a, b, spelt backward with a liorn on hi» 
 head ? 
 
 Hoi. Bh, pueritia, with a horn added. 
 
 Moth. Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn: — Yon 
 hear his learning. 
 
 Hoi. Quis, quis, thou consonant? 
 
 Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat 
 them ; or the fifth, if I. 
 
 Hoi. I will repeat them, a, e, i. — 
 
 Moth. The sheep : the other two concludes it ; o, u. 
 
 Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the iMediterra- 
 neum, a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit : snip, 
 snap, quick and home; it rejoiceth my intellect: 
 true wit. [wil-old. 
 
 Moth. Olfer'd by a child to an old man ; which is 
 
 Hoi. Wtiat is the figure ? what is the figure? 
 
 Moth. Horns. fgig. 
 
 Hoi. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy 
 
 Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I 
 will whip about your infamy circiim circa; a gig of 
 a cuckold's horn ! 
 
 Cos. An I had but one penny in the world, thou 
 shouldst have it to buy gingerbread : hold, there is 
 the very renumeration 1 had of thy master, thou 
 half |)enny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg ot discre- 
 tion. O, an the heavens were so pleased, that thou 
 werf but my bastjrd, vvhatajoyfid father wouldst 
 thou make me ! Go to ; thou hast it ad du7ijhill, 
 at tliy fingers' ends, as they say. 
 
 Hoi. O, I smell false Latin ; dunghill ior unyiiem. 
 
 Arm. Arts-man, pra-ambula ; we will be singled 
 from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at 
 the charge-house on the top of the mountain i 
 
 Hoi. Or, mons, the hill. 
 
 Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. 
 
 Hoi. I do, sans question. 
 
 Arm. Sir, it is the king's oi.:)st sweet pleasure ami 
 affection, to congratulate th>; princess at her pavi- 
 lion, in the (losteriors of this day; which the rude 
 ninlfitude call, the afternoon. 
 
 Hoi. 'I'lie posterior of the day, most generous sir, 
 is li.ible, congruent, ar.d iiieasuiable for the after- 
 noon : tlie word is well ciill'd. chose; sweet and 
 apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. 
 
 Arm. Sir, •he king is a iifibie gentleman; and 
 my familiar, 1 do assure you, very good friend : — 
 for what is inward between us let it pass: — I do 
 beseech thee, r. memb -r thy courtesy; — 1 bestech 
 thee, apparel thy head ; — and among other importu- 
 nale and most serious designs, — and of great import 
 indeed, too; — but let that pass: — for i must tell 
 thee, it will please his grace (by the world) sometime 
 to lean upon my poor slioulder ; and with his royal 
 Huyer, thus, daily with my excrement, with my 
 iniistachio : lint, sweet heart, let that pass. By the 
 world, i recount no f ible , some certain Special 
 h mours it pleaseth bis greatness to fmpart to .Ar- 
 mado, a soldier, a man ol travel, that hath seen the 
 world: but let that pass. 'I he very all of all is, — 
 but, sweet heart, I do implore se< recy, — that the 
 king would have me inesent the princess, sweet 
 chuck, vvitii Some dfbghtt'iil ostentation, or .sliovv, 
 or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, under- 
 standing that the curate and your sweet self are 
 good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of 
 mirth, as it \vere, I have acquainted you witiial, to 
 the end to crave your assistance. 
 
 Ho/. Sir, you shall prtsent before her the nine 
 woittiies. — Sir Nithaniel, as concerning some en- 
 teitainmenl of time, some show in the posterior of 
 this day, to be rendered by our assista. fr. — the 
 
 king's coi and, and this most gallant, illustrate, 
 
 and learned gentleman, — before the prim ess; 1 say, 
 none so fit as to present the nine w(;rthies. 
 
140 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act V 
 
 Nafh. Where will yon find men worthy enough 
 io ))i(',sent tliem ? 
 
 Hoi. Joslma, yourself; myself, or tliis gallant 
 gphtlemaii, Judas Maccabajiis; tins swain, because 
 <il Ins great limit or joint, shall pass Pompey the 
 great; the page, Hercules. 
 
 Arm. Pardon, sir, error: he is not quantity enough 
 for tliat worthy's thumb : he is not so big as the end 
 of his club. 
 
 Uol. Shall I have audience ? he shall present 
 Heicules in minority: h\s enter and exit shall be 
 strangling a snalie ; and I will have an apology for 
 that purpose. 
 
 Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the 
 andieuce hiss, you may cry : tvell done. Hercules! 
 now thou crushest the snake ! that is the way to 
 make an od'ence gracious; though few have the 
 grace to do it 
 
 Arm. For the rest of the worthies? 
 
 Hoi. I will play tlnee myself. 
 
 Moth. Thrice-woithy gentleman! 
 
 Arm. Shall 1 tell you a thiug ? 
 
 Hoi. NVe attend. 
 
 Arm. VVe will have, if this fadge not, an antic. 
 i beseech you, ii>llow. 
 
 Hoi. Via. goodman Dull ! thou hast spoken no 
 woril all tliis while. 
 
 Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. 
 
 Hoi. Allans! we will employ thee. 
 
 Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will 
 play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance 
 the hay. 
 
 Hoi. Most ddll, honest Dull, in our sport, away. 
 
 [Exeu7it. 
 
 Scene \\.—AnotIier part oftlie same. Before the 
 Princess's Pavilion. 
 
 Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and 
 Mahia. 
 
 Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, 
 {f lairjn(ts come thus plentifully in: 
 A lady wali'd about w'.lh diamouds! 
 Look you, what I have iroin the loving king. 
 
 Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that? 
 
 Prin. Nothing but this? yes, as much love in 
 rhyme, 
 As w.iuld be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper. 
 Writ on both sides the leaf^ margeut and all; 
 That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. 
 
 Rus. That was the way to make liis godhead wax; 
 For lie hath been five thousand years a boy. 
 
 Kalh Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. 
 
 Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him ; he kill'd 
 your sister. 
 
 Kath. lie made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; 
 And so she died: had she been liglit, like you. 
 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
 She might have been a grandam ere she died: 
 And s 1 may you ; for a light heart lives long. 
 
 Ros. Wliat's your dark meaning, mouse, of this 
 light word? 
 
 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. [out. 
 
 Ros. VVe need more liglit to find your meaning 
 
 Kath. 'V'dii'll mar the light, by taking it in sniitf ; 
 Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument. 
 
 Ros. Look, wh it you do, you do it still i' the dark. 
 
 Kath. So do not yo-;i ; for you are a light weni h. 
 
 Ros. Indeed, 1 weigh nut you; and thereliue 
 liuht. [for me. 
 
 Kath. You weigh me not, — O, that's you rare n.jt 
 
 Ros. Great reason ; for. Past cure is still past care. 
 
 Prin. Well bandied botii : a setol wii well .lay'd. 
 But l|o.saliiie, yoii h.ne a tavour tuo: 
 Who sent it? and what is it? 
 
 Ros. I would, you knew ; 
 
 All il my frice were but as lair as yours, 
 My favour were as great; be wit less this. 
 Nay, I have verses tuo, I th.iuk Biiou . 
 The nuiiibeis true ; and. were the nunib'ring too, 
 I were tlie fairest goddess on the ground : 
 
 I am compar'd to twenty thou.sand fairs. 
 O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter 1 
 
 Prin. Any thing like? 
 
 Ros. Much, in the letters ; nothing in the praise 
 
 Prin. Beauteous ks ink : a good conclusion. 
 
 Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy book. 
 
 Ros. 'Ware pencils I How? let me not die youi 
 debtor, 
 My red dominical, my golden letter: 
 O, that your face were not so full of O's ! 
 
 Kath. A pox of that jest ! and beshrew all shrows • 
 
 Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Dumain? 
 
 Kath. Madaai, this glove. 
 
 Prin. Did he not send you twain ? 
 
 Kath. Yes, madam ; and moreover. 
 Some thou.sand verses of a faithful lover: 
 A huge translation of hypocrisy. 
 Vilely compil d, profound simplicity. [ville ; 
 
 Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa- 
 The letter is too long by half a mile. [heart, 
 
 Prin. 1 think no less : dost thou not wish in 
 The chain were longer, ar.d the letter short? [part. 
 
 Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might nevei 
 
 Prin. VVe are wise girls, to mock our lovers .so. 
 
 Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. 
 7 hat same Biron I'll torture ere 1 go. 
 O, that 1 knew he were but in by the week ! 
 How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek; 
 And wait the season, and observe the times, 
 And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes ; 
 And shape his service wholly to my behests; 
 And make him proud to make me proud that jests I 
 So portent-like would I o'ersway his state. 
 That he should be my fool, and I his fate. 
 
 Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are 
 catch'd, 
 As wit turn'd foul : folly, in wisdom hatch'd. 
 Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ; 
 And wit's own grace to grace a learned Ibol. 
 
 Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such 
 excess. 
 As gravity's revolt to wantonness. 
 
 Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note. 
 As i'oolery in the wise, when wit doth dole; 
 Since all the power thereof it doth apply. 
 To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. 
 
 Enter Bovet. 
 
 Prin. Here comes Poyet, and mirth is in his face. 
 
 Boyet. O. I am stabb'd with laughter? Where's 
 her grace ? 
 
 Prin. Thy news, Boyet ? 
 
 Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare I — 
 
 Arm, wenches, arm ! encounters mounted are 
 Against your pea'-c : love doth ap roach disguis'd. 
 Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd : 
 Muster your wits ; stand in your own delence ; 
 Or hide vfuir heads like cowards, and Hy hence. 
 
 Prin.iiMui Dennis to Saint Ciipidl What are they, 
 That ( harge their breath against us '( say, scout, say. 
 
 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a svcamore, 
 I tl ou^iit to close mine eyes some hall' an hour; 
 Wh-n, lo! to interrupt my purpus'd rest. 
 Toward that shade 1 might behold addrest 
 Th ■ king and his companions: warily 
 I stole into a neighbour thicket by. 
 And overheard what \oii shall overhear; 
 I'liat by and by, disguis'd they will be here. 
 Their herald is a pretty knavish page, 
 That well by heart hath conii'd his embassage . 
 Action, and accent, did they leach I'im tiiere ; 
 Thus must thou s/^eak. and thus thy body bear. 
 And ever and anon tliey iiiaile a duabt. 
 Presence muje.stical would put him out : 
 For, quoth the king, an amjel shall thou see ; 
 Yet fear not thou, but speah audaciously. 
 The bov re|ily'd, An av(jvl is nut etnl ; 
 1 should have fear d iier^ had she been a devil. 
 W itn tliat all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on tht 
 shoulder ; 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 141 
 
 JMakinjr Hie bold wag by tlieir praises bolder. 
 
 One iiibb'il his elbow, tiuis ; and fleer'd, and swore, 
 
 A better sfieecli was never spoke betbre : 
 
 Aliotlier, with liis finder and his thumb, 
 
 Ciyd. Via ! we ivill dot, come what ivill come : 
 
 The third he caper'd, aud cried. All ijoes well: 
 
 Tlie Jciiiitli turn d on the toe, and down he fell. 
 
 \V ith tliat, they ail did tumble on t!i^ ground, 
 
 Witli such a zealous laughter, so prolonnd, 
 
 'J'hat in tliis spleen ridiculous aiipears. 
 
 To check their tolly, passion's solemn tears. 
 
 Prin. But what, but what, come tiiey to \ isit us ? 
 
 Botjet. Tiiey do, they do ; and are apparel'd 
 thus, — 
 Like IMuscovites. or Russians : as I guess. 
 Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance : 
 And every one his love-teat wdl advance 
 Unto his several mistress; whicii itiey'll know 
 By favours several, whicli tliey did bestow. 
 
 Prin. And will tiiey so? the gallants shall be 
 task'd ; 
 For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd : 
 And not a man of them shall have the grace, 
 Despight of suit, to see a lady's fare. 
 Hold, Rosaline, tliis favour tliou shalt wear; 
 And tiien the king will court thee for his dear; 
 Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine ; 
 So shall Birou take me tor Rosaline. — 
 And change you favours too ; so shall your loves 
 Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes. 
 
 Ros. Come on then ; wear the favours most in 
 sigiit. 
 
 Kath. But, in this changing, what is your intent? 
 
 Prin. The etlect of my intent is, to cross theirs ; 
 They do it but in morkmg enerrirnent; 
 And mock for mock is only my intent. 
 Their several counsels they unbosom shall 
 To loves mistook ; and so be mock'd withal. 
 Upon tiie next occasion that we meet, 
 VVitli visages dispfiy'd, to talk, aud greet. 
 
 Bos. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't ? 
 
 Prin. No ; to the death, we will not move a foot ; 
 Nor to their penu'd speecli render we no grace ; 
 But, 'vhile 'tis spoke, each tuin away her face. 
 
 Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's 
 heart. 
 And quite dixorce his memory from his part. 
 
 Prin. Therefore I doit; and, I make no doubt, 
 Tiie rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. 
 There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown ; 
 To make tlieirs ours, and ours none but our own : 
 So shall we stay, mocking intended game ; 
 And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. 
 
 [Trumpets sound ivithin.) 
 
 Boyet. The trumj:et sounds: be mask'd. the 
 maskers come. [The Ladies mask.) 
 
 Enter the King, Biron, Longaville. and Dumain, 
 in Russian habits, and masked; Moth, Mu- 
 sicians, and Attendants. 
 
 Moth. All hail the richest beauties on the earth'. 
 
 Boyet. Beauties no richer tliau rich tatfeta. 
 
 Muth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, 
 
 (Tup ladies turn their backs to him.) 
 That ever turn d their — backs— to mortal views ! 
 
 Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. 
 
 Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal 
 views ! Out — 
 
 Biiyet. True ; out, iideed. 
 
 Muth- Out of your favours, heavenly spirits. 
 Not lo behold — [vouchsafe 
 
 Biron. Once to behold, rogue. 
 
 Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed 
 eyes. with your sun beamed eyes — 
 
 Boyet. They will nut answer to that epithet, 
 \ oil V. i-ie best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. 
 
 MotJt. They do not mark me, and that brings me 
 out. 
 
 Biron Is this your perfectness? be gone, you 
 rogue. 
 
 Ro.i. What would these strangers? know their 
 minds, Boyet: 
 If they do speak our language, 'tis our will 
 That some plain man recount their purposes: 
 Know what they would. 
 
 Boyet. What would you with the princess ? 
 
 Biron. Nothing but ( eace, and gentle visitation. 
 
 Ros. What would they, say they? 
 
 Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. 
 
 Ros. Why, that they have ; and bid them so be 
 gone. [gone. 
 
 Boyet. She says, yon have it, and you may be 
 
 Ki)ig. Say to her, we have nieasur'd many miles. 
 To tread a measure with her on this giass. 
 
 Boyet. They say that they have nieasur'd many 
 a mile, 
 To tread a measure with yon on this grass. 
 
 Ros. It is not so: ask them, how many inches 
 Is in one mile : if they have nieasur'd many. 
 The measure then of one is easily told. 
 
 Boyet. It, to come hither, you haie nieasur'd 
 miles, 
 And m\ny mile^ ; the princess bids you tell. 
 How many mches do fill up one mile. 
 
 Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary 
 steps. 
 
 Boyet. She hears herself. 
 
 Ros. How many weary steps. 
 
 Of many weary miles you have o'ergone. 
 Are number'd in the tra\el of one mile? 
 
 Biro7i. We number nothing that we spend for 
 Our duty is so rich, so iuliuite, [you; 
 
 That we may do it still without acrompt. 
 Vouchsafe to show the sunshine ol your face, 
 That we. like savages, ipiy worship it. 
 
 Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. 
 
 King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! 
 Vouchsafe, bright inuon, and these thy stars, to 
 
 shine 
 (Those clouds rernov'd,) upon our wat'ry eyne. 
 
 Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater m^ittec; 
 Thou now request'st but moonshine in the \\ater. 
 
 King. Then, in our measure, do but vouchsafe 
 one change: 
 Thou bid'st me beg ; this begging is not strange. 
 
 Ros. Play, music, then: nay, you must do it 
 
 soofl. [Music play.) 
 
 Not yet ; — no dance : — thus change I like the moon. 
 
 King. Will yon not dance ? How come you thus 
 estrang'd ? 
 
 Ros. You took the moon at full ; but now she's 
 chang'd. 
 
 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. 
 The music plays ; vouchsafe some motion to it. 
 
 Ros. Our ears vouchsale it. 
 
 King. But your legs should do it. 
 
 Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by 
 chance, 
 We'll not be nice : take hands: — we will not dance. 
 
 King. Why take we hands then ? 
 
 Ros. Only to part friends :— 
 
 Court'sy, sweet hearts ; and so the measure ends. 
 
 King. More measure of this measure ; be not 
 nice. 
 
 Ros. We can afford no more at such a price. 
 
 King. Prize you yourselves; what buys youl" 
 company ? 
 
 Ros. Your absence only. 
 
 Kitig. That can never be. 
 
 Ros. Then cannot we be bought ■ and so adieu ; 
 Twice to your visor, and half once to you! 
 
 King. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat 
 
 Ros. In private, then. 
 
 King. I am best pleas'd with that. 
 
 [They converse apart.) 
 
 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word 
 with thee. [three. 
 
 Prin. Honpy, and milk, and sugar; there iii 
 
 Biron. Nay then, two treys, (an if you grovv so 
 nice,) 
 
142 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 MetlieRlin, wort, and malmsey ; — Well run, dice I 
 'riit^re's hall' a dozen swefts. 
 
 Prin. Seventh sweet, adieu ! 
 
 Siiire you can cog, I'll play no more with you. 
 Biroii. One word in secret. 
 
 Let it not be sweet. 
 rhou griev'st my gall. 
 
 Gall ! bitter. 
 
 Therefore meet. 
 
 ' [Theij converse apart.) 
 
 vouchsafe with uie to change a 
 
 l-'rin. 
 
 Biron. 
 
 Prin. 
 
 Biron, 
 
 D 
 
 urn. 
 
 Will you 
 word .■" 
 
 Mar. Name it. 
 
 Bum. Fair 
 
 31ar, 
 
 lady.- 
 
 Say you so? Fair lord, — 
 Take that for your fair lady. 
 
 Bum. Please it, you, 
 
 As much in private, and 111 bid adieu. 
 
 {They converse apart.) 
 Kaih. What, was your visor made witliout a 
 
 tongue ? 
 Long. I know the reason, lady, why yon ask. 
 Kath. O, for your reason ! quickly, sir; I long. 
 Lun'j. Vou have a double tongue within your 
 mask. 
 And wnulil afford my spfechless visor half. 
 
 Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman; — Is not veal 
 
 a calf? 
 Lonri. A calf, fair lady ? 
 Kalh. No, a fair lord calf. 
 
 LoiKj. Let's part the word. 
 
 Kath. No, I'll not be your half: 
 
 Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. 
 
 hong. Look, how you butt yourself in these 
 sharp mocks ! 
 Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. 
 
 Kath. Then die a calf before ynur horns do grow. 
 hong. One word in private with you, ere I die. 
 Kath. Bleat sofdy then, the butcher hears you cry. 
 {They converse apart.) 
 Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as 
 keen 
 As is the razor's edge invisible. 
 Cutting a smaller hafr than may be seen; 
 Above the sense ol' sense : so sensible 
 Seemetli their conference ; their conceits have wings. 
 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter 
 tilings. 
 Ros. Not one word more, my maids ; break off, 
 
 break off. 
 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure .scoff! 
 King. Farewell, mad wenches; yon have simple 
 wits. 
 [Exeunt King, hords, Moth, Music, and Atten- 
 dants. 
 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites. — 
 Are tliese the breed of wits so wonder'd at? 
 
 Boyet. 'i'apers they are, with your sweet breaths 
 
 puffd out. 
 Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gro.ss ; 
 
 fat, fat. 
 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout ! 
 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to night? 
 
 Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? 
 This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. 
 llos. O! they were all in lamentable cases! 
 The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. 
 Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. 
 Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword : 
 No point, quoth I ; my servant straight was mute. 
 Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; 
 And trow you what he call'd me ? 
 Prin. Qualm, perhaps. 
 
 Kath. Yes, in good faith. 
 
 Prin. Go, sickness as thou art! 
 
 Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute- 
 caps. ' 
 But will you hear? the king is my love .sworn. 
 Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. 
 Kath. And liOngaville was for my service born. 
 
 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. 
 
 Boyft. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear* 
 Immediately they will again be here 
 In their own shapes; for it can never be. 
 They will digest this harsh indignity. 
 
 Prin. Will they return ? 
 
 Boyet. They will, they will, Gcd knows; 
 
 And leap^for joy, though they are lame with blows; 
 'J'herefore, change fivoiirs ; and, whentliey repair. 
 Blow like sweet roses in this suuuiier air. 
 
 Prin. How blow ? bow blow ? .speak to be under- 
 stood. 
 
 Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: 
 Dismask'd, their damask sweet coimuixtnre shown. 
 Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. 
 
 Prin. Avaunt, perplexity I What shall we do, 
 If they return in their own shapes to woo ? 
 
 Ros. Good, madam, if by me you'll be adii.s'd, 
 Let's mock them still, as well known, as disgnis'd: 
 Let us complain to them what fools were here, 
 Disgnis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; 
 And wonder, what .they were ; and to what end 
 Tiieir shallow shows, and prologue vilely penu'd. 
 And their rough carriage so ridiculous, 
 Should be presented at our tent to ns. 
 
 Boyet. Ladies, w ithdraw; tiie gallants are at hand. 
 
 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o\er land. 
 [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. 
 
 Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and 
 Dumain, in their proper habits. 
 
 King. Fair sir, God save you ! Where is the 
 princess ? 
 
 Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, 
 Comuiand me any service to her thither? 
 
 King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one 
 word. 
 
 Boyet. 1 will ; and so will she, I know, mv lord. 
 
 '[Exit. 
 
 Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons ()eas; 
 And utters it again, when God doth please: 
 He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares 
 At wakes, and wassels, meetings, niaikefs, fairs; 
 And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, 
 Ha\e not the grace to grace it with such show. 
 This gallant pins the weiiclies on his sheie ; 
 Had he been Adam, he had teinjited Eve : 
 He can carve too and lisp: why, tiiis is he 
 That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; 
 This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, 
 That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice 
 In honourable terms ; nay, he can sing 
 A mean most meanly; and, in ushering, 
 Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet; 
 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet: 
 This is the flower that smiles on every one, 
 To show his teeth as white as whales'bonej 
 And consciences, that will not die in debt. 
 Pay him the due of honey-tongupd Boyet. 
 
 King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my 
 heart, 
 That put Armado's page out of his parti 
 
 Enter the Princess, M«7/erec?ij^BoYET ; Ros.\LiNE, 
 M.\Ri.\, Kath.^rine, and Attendants. 
 
 Biron. See where it comes ! — Behaviour, wiiat 
 wert thou, 
 Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? 
 King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day ! 
 Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. 
 King. Constrne my speechrs better, if you may. 
 Pri?i. 'I'lien wish me better, I will give you leave. 
 King. We came to visit you ; and purpose now 
 
 To lead you to our court: voiiclisate it then. 
 
 Prin. This field shall hold nie ; and so hold your 
 
 vow : 
 
 Nor God, nor I, delisht in perjnr'd men. 
 
 King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; 
 
 'J'iie virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 143 
 
 Prin. You nick-name virtue : vice yon should 
 liave spoke ; 
 For \irliies oUii-e never breaiis men's troth. 
 Now, liy my maiden lioiioiir, yet as pure 
 
 As tlie misiilliecl lily, 1 proti st, 
 A world ol tornieiits thou^Hi 1 sliould endur*", 
 
 1 would nut yield to be your house's guest: 
 So n/uch 1 hate a breakinj; cause to be 
 Oriieavenly oaths, vow'd with iiitej^rity. 
 Kinrj. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, 
 
 Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. 
 Prin. Nut so, my lord; it is not so, 1 suenr; 
 We have had pastimes here, arid pleasant game; 
 A mess ol' Uussians left us but of late. 
 Kim/. How, madam ? Russians ? 
 Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord ; 
 
 Trim gallants, full of courtslii|) and of state. 
 
 lios. Wadam, sneak true : — It is not so, my lord ; 
 My lady, (to the nuvnner of the days,j 
 In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. 
 W'e four, Huleed, confronted liere with four 
 In Russian habit; here they stay'd an hour, • 
 And talk'd apace; aiid in tliat hour, my lord, 
 'i'hey did not bless ns with one happy word. 
 I dare 111. t call them fools; but this J think. 
 When tliey are thirsty, fools would faiu have 
 drink. 
 Birun. 'I'his jest is dry to me.^Fair, gentle 
 sweet, 
 Vour wit makes wise things foolish ; when we greet 
 W^ith eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, 
 liy light we lose light: your capacity 
 Is of that nature, that to your huge store 
 Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. 
 Ras. T\\\s proves you wise and rich, ibr iu my 
 
 eye,— 
 Biron. I am a fool, and full of poveri}'. 
 lios. liut that you take what doth to you belong, 
 It were a i'ault to snatch words from n'.y tongue. 
 liacn. O, I am yotu's, and ali that 1 possess. 
 Jiijs. All the fool mine ? 
 
 Biron. I cannot give yon Jess. 
 
 Ros. Which of the visors was it that you wore ? 
 Biron. Where ? when ? what visor? why demand 
 
 you this '! 
 Ros. There, tlien, that visor; that superfluous case, 
 That hid tlie worse, and show'd the better face. 
 King. We are descried: they'll mock u.s now 
 
 downright. 
 Duni. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 
 Prin. .\maz'd, my lord r" Why looks your jiigh- 
 
 ness sad ? 
 Ros. Help, hold his brows ! he'I! swoon ? Why 
 look you pale? — 
 Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. 
 
 Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for 
 perjury. 
 Can any face of brass hold longer out? — 
 Here stand I, lady ; dart thy skill at me ; 
 
 Bruise nie with scorn, conlound me with a flout ; 
 Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance ; 
 
 Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; 
 And I will wish thee never more to dance. 
 Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 
 O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd, 
 
 Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue ; 
 Nor never come in visor to my friend ; 
 
 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: 
 Taflata phrases, silken terms precise. 
 
 Three- pil'd hyperboles, spruce afTectatioD, 
 Figures pedanticai : these summer flies 
 
 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : 
 I do forswear them : and I here protest, ' 
 
 liy this white glove, (iiovv white the hand, God 
 knows !) 
 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd 
 
 lu russet yeas, and honest kersey noes: 
 And, to begin, wench, — so God help me, la! — • 
 My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 
 Ros. Sans sajjs, I pray you. 
 
 Biron. Yet I have a trick 
 
 Oi the old rage: — bear with me, 1 am eick: 
 I'll lea\e it by degrees. Soft, let us see; 
 Write, Lord have viercij on us, on those three; 
 They are nilected, in their hearts it lies; 
 They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes: 
 These lords are visited; you are not tree. 
 For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. 
 
 Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens 
 fo us. 
 
 Biron. Our states are forft-it, seek not to undo UB 
 
 Bus. It is not so ; lor how can this be true, 
 That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? 
 
 Biron. Peace ; fur I w ill not have to do with you. 
 
 Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as 1 intend. 
 
 Biron. Speak for yourselves my wit is at an end. 
 
 Kinrj. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude 
 transgression 
 Some fair excuse. 
 
 Prin. The fairest is confession. 
 
 Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd ? 
 
 Kinrj. Madam, I was. 
 
 Prin. And were you well advis'd? 
 
 Kinrj. I was, fair madam. 
 
 Prin. When you then were here. 
 
 What did you whisper in your lady's ear? 
 
 King, 'i hat more than all the world I did respect 
 her. 
 
 Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will re- 
 ject her. • 
 
 King. Upon mine honour, no. 
 
 Prin. Peace, peace, forbear; 
 
 Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. 
 
 King. Despise me, when I break this oath of 
 mine. 
 
 Prin. I will; and therefore keep it: — Rosaline, 
 What did the Russian whisper in your ear :" 
 
 Rus. Madam, he swore, that he did liold me dear 
 As precious eye-sight ; and did value me 
 Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, 
 That he would wed me, or else die my lo\er. 
 
 Prin. God give thee joy of hiiii ! the noble lord 
 Most honourably doth uphold his \\ord. 
 
 King. What mean you, madaur:;' by my life, my 
 troth, 
 I never swore this lady such an oath. 
 
 Ros. By heaven, you did ; and to cunfinn it plain. 
 You gave nie this: but take it, sir, again. 
 
 King. My faith, and tuis, the princess I did give ; 
 I knew her by tliis jewel on herslee\e. 
 
 Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; 
 And lord Biiou, 1 thank him, is my dear: — 
 Wliat; will you have me, or your pearl again? 
 
 Biron. Neither of either ; I remit both twain. — 
 I see tlie trick on't; — Here was a consent 
 (Knowing aforehand ol'our merriment,) 
 'I'o dash it like a Christmas comedy: 
 Some carry table, some please-mau, some slight zany, 
 Some mumble-news, some trencherkniglit, some 
 
 Dick,— 
 That smiles his cheek in years ; and knows the trick 
 'I'o make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd, — 
 Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, 
 'I'he ladies did change favours; and then we. 
 Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. 
 Now, to our perjury to add more terror, 
 We are again forsworn; in will, and error. 
 Much upon this it is : — And might not you, 
 
 {To Boyet. 
 Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue ? 
 Do not you know my lady's foot by the eqiiire, 
 
 And laugh upon the apple of her eye ? 
 And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, 
 
 Holding a trencher, jesting merrily ? 
 You put our page out: go, yon are allow'd ; 
 Die when you will, a smoik shall be your shroud, 
 Y'ou leer upon me, do you ? there's an eye. 
 Wounds like a leaden sword. 
 
 Boyet. Full merrily 
 
 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. 
 
]44 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 iron. Lo, lie is tilting straiglit! Peace; I have 
 done. 
 
 Enter Costard. 
 Welcome, pure wit! thou paitest a fair fiay. 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir, ihey woukl know, 
 VVhetlier tlie three worUii>'s sliall come in, or no. 
 
 Biron. What, are tliere bat three ? 
 
 Coat. No, sir; but it is \ara fine. 
 
 For every one pursents tiiree. 
 
 Biron. And three times thrice is nine. 
 
 Cont. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hoj/e 
 it'is not so: 
 You cannot bei; us, sir, I can assure yo'i, sir; we 
 
 know what we know; 
 I hope, sir, ihree tiiiies tiirice, sir, — 
 
 Biron. Is not nine. 
 
 Coxt. Under correction, sir, we know wherenntil 
 it doth amount. [nine. 
 
 Biron. By Jove, I always took thiee threes iijr 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get 
 your Ining by reckoning, sir. 
 
 Biron. How much is it ? 
 
 Cuiit. O Lord, sir, the parlies themselves, tlie 
 artors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: 
 tor my own part, 1 am, as tliey say, but to par- 
 feet one man, — e'en one poor man; Pompiou the 
 great, sir. 
 
 Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? 
 
 Cu.sl. It ("leased them to think me worthy of 
 Pompiou the great: tor mine own part, 1 know 
 not tl'e degree of the wortliy ; but 1 am to stand 
 tor him. 
 
 BiroH. Go, hid tiiem prepare. 
 
 Coat. We will turn it tinely oil", sir; we will take 
 some care. \_Exit Costard. 
 
 Kimj. Biion, tliey N\ill shame us, let them not 
 approach. 
 
 Biron. \Ve are sliame-proof, my lord : and 'tis 
 some policy 
 To h:ive one sliow worse tiiaa the king's and his 
 company. 
 
 Kiny. I say, they shall not come. [now; 
 
 Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you 
 That spoi t best pleases, that doth least know how : 
 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents 
 Die in liie zeal of them which it presents, 
 'J'heir form confounded makes most form in mirth ; 
 \V hen great things labouring perish in their birth. 
 
 Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord. 
 
 Enter Arjiado. 
 
 Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expence of 
 tliy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. 
 
 [Armado converses luith theKiny, and delivers 
 him a papsr.) 
 
 Prin. Doth tills man serve God ? 
 
 Biron. \V hy ask you ? 
 
 Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. 
 
 Ann. Thai's all one, my fair, sweet, honej mo- 
 narch : for, 1 protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding 
 fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we 
 will put it, as they say, to forluna della yuerra. 
 I wish you the jieace of mind, most royal coiiple- 
 ment ! [Exit Armada. 
 
 King. Here is like to be a good presence of wor- 
 thies ; he presents Hector of Troy ; the swain, 
 Pompey fiie great; the parisli curate, Alexander; 
 Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Ma- 
 chabieus. 
 
 And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, 
 These lour will change habits, and present the 
 other five. 
 
 Biron, 'I'here is live in the first shos». 
 
 Kiny. \ on are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. 
 
 Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge 
 
 priest, the fool, and the boy : — 
 
 Abate a throw at novum; and the wiiole world 
 
 again, _ [vein. 
 
 CaBnot prii k. out five hhcIi, take each oue in his 
 
 Kiny. The ship is under sail, and here she comf 
 
 amain. 
 [Seats broiiyhtfor the Kiny, Princess, ^c.) 
 
 Payeant of the Nine Worthies. 
 Enter Costard armed, for Pompey. 
 
 Cost. I Pompey am, 
 
 Boi/el. Yoa lie, you are not lit 
 
 Cost. 1 Pompey am. 
 
 Buypt. With libbard's head on k fk e 
 
 Btrun. Well said, old mocker; 1 must needs b, 
 friends with thee. 
 
 Cost. I Pompey am, Pompfij surnam'd I'. 
 
 Diim. 'J'lie great. 
 
 Cost. Jt is great, sir; — Pomjtey surnatn'd the 
 yreat ; 
 That oft injield, loith tarye and shield, did make 
 
 my foe to sweat : 
 And traveUiny alony i/iis coast, I here am come 
 
 by chance ; 
 And lay my arms before the leys of this stveet 
 /ass of Frn7ice. [done. 
 
 If your ladyship would say, Thanhs, Pompey, 1 liad 
 Priti. Great thanks, great Pompey. 
 Cost. 'Tis not so mucli worth : but, I hope, I was 
 perfect: I made a little fault in, yreat. 
 
 Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves 
 the best worthy. 
 
 Enter Nathaniel armed, for Alexander. 
 Nath. Tf'lien in the ivorld I liv'd, I was the 
 ivorld s commander ; 
 By east, west, north, and south, I spread my 
 
 conqueriny miyht ; 
 My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Ali- 
 sander. 
 Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not ; for it 
 
 stands too right. 
 Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this most tender- 
 smelling knight. 
 Prin. The conqueror is disinay'd: proceed, good 
 
 -Alexander. 
 Nath. IVhen in the ivorld I liv'd, I ivas the 
 
 ivorld s commander : — 
 Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Ali- 
 
 saiider. 
 Biron. Pompey the great, — 
 Co.st. Your servant, and Costeird. 
 
 Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Ali- 
 sander. 
 
 Cost. O, sir, [to Nath.) yon have overthrown 
 Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out 
 of the painted cloth for this: your lien, that holds 
 his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be gjven to 
 A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, 
 and afeard to speak! runaway for shame, Alisander. 
 [Nath. retires.) Tiiere, an't shall please you ; a fool- 
 ish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon 
 dash'd ! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in 
 sooth; and a very good bowler: but foj- Alisander, 
 alas ycu see, how 'tis; — a little o'erparted : — But 
 there are worthies a-comiiig will speak their niiud iu 
 some other sort. 
 
 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 
 
 Enter Holofeknes armed, for Judas, aiid IVIotu 
 armed, for Hercules. 
 Hoi. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, 
 J Those club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed 
 canus; 
 And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, 
 
 Thus did he siranyle serpents in his inanu.s : 
 Quoniam, he seemeth in tranority ; 
 Lrgo, / come with this apoloyy. — 
 Keep some state in tliy exit, auit vaniah. [Exit Moth. 
 Hoi. Judas I am, — 
 Dum. A Judas I 
 Hoi. Not Iscariot, sir, — 
 Judas I am, ycleped Machabeeus. 
 
 Dum. Judas Alachalneus clqjt, is plain Judas. 
 
'• Lust ^(•l•n(• of :ill. 
 Tlial t'liils lliis strange cvi-ntt'iil history. 
 Is secoml cliilciisliiK'Ss. and more nbliviuii. 
 Sans teetli, siilis eyes, sans taste, sans evcrytliins;." 
 
 As You LiKK It.— Ai-t il . Sci-no V* 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 145 
 
 Biron. A kissing traitor : — How art thou prov'd 
 
 JlldrlS ? 
 
 Hoi. Judas 1 am — 
 
 Dum. The inoic siiatne for you, Judas. 
 
 Uol. WHiat mean you, sir? 
 
 Buyet. 'l"o inaiie Judas hang himself. 
 
 Hoi. Begin, sir; you are my elder. 
 
 Biron. VV'eil foiiow'd : Judas was hang'd on an 
 elder. 
 
 Hoi. I will not be put out of countenance. 
 
 Biron. Bfcause thou hast uo face. 
 
 Hoi. VVliat is this ? 
 
 Boyet. A cittern head. 
 
 Dum. 'I'lie head of a bodkin. 
 
 Biron. A deatli's face in a ring. 
 
 Long. 'I'lie lace of ati old Roman coin, scarce seen. 
 
 Boyet. The pummel of Ca?sar's faulchion. 
 
 Dum. The carved-bone face on a Hask. 
 
 Biron. Si. Geori^e's half-cheek in a brooch. 
 
 JJun^ Ay, and in a brooch of lead. 
 
 Biron. Ay, and worn in the ca\> of a tooth-drawer : 
 A.nd now, forward ; for we have put thee in coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Hoi. You have put me out. of countenance. 
 
 Biron. False ; we hrtve given thee faces. 
 
 Hoi. Cut you have outfac'd them all. 
 
 Biron. .\n thou wert a lion, we would do so. 
 
 Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. 
 And so adieu, sweet Jiide ! nay, why dost thou stay:' 
 
 Dum. For the latter end of his name. 
 
 Biron. For tlie ass to the Jude; give it him; — 
 Judas, away. 
 ■ Hoi. 'I'iiis is not generous, not gentle, not humble. 
 
 Boyet. A light for monsieur Judas: it grows 
 dark, he may stumble. [baited! 
 
 Prin. Alas, poor Machaba^us, how hath he been 
 
 Enter Armado armed, for Hector. 
 
 Biro7i. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes 
 Hector in arms. 
 
 Dum. Tlioiigh my mocks come home by me, 1 
 will now be merry. 
 
 King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. 
 
 Boyet. But is this Hector ? 
 
 Dum. I tliink. Hector was not so clean timbered. 
 
 Long. His leg is too big for Hector. 
 
 Dum. More call, certain. 
 
 Boyet. No ; he is best endued in the small. 
 
 Biron. This cannot be Hector. 
 
 Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. 
 
 Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances i/ie al- 
 mighty. 
 Gave Hector a gift. — 
 
 Dum. A gilt nutmeg. 
 
 Biron. A lemon. 
 
 Long. Stuck with cloves. 
 
 Dum. No, cloven. 
 
 Arin. Peace ! 
 The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty. 
 
 Gave Hector a gift, the hetr of Ilion ; [yea 
 A man so breath' d. that certain he would fight. 
 
 From morn till night, out of his pavilion. 
 [ am that Jioiver, — 
 
 Dum. That mint. 
 
 Long. That columbine. 
 
 Arm. Sv.eet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. 
 
 Lang. I must rathei give it the rem ; for it runs 
 against Hector. 
 
 Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. 
 
 Ar)n. 'I'he sweet war-man is dead and rotten : 
 sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried : 
 when he breath'd, he was a man— But [ will for- 
 ward with my device: sweet royalty, {to the Prin- 
 cess.) besJow on nie the sense oi hearing. 
 
 {Biron whispers Costard.) 
 
 Pnn, Speak, brave Hector; we are much de- 
 lighted. 
 
 Arm. I tlo adore ihy sweet grace's slipper. 
 
 Boytl. L ives her by the foot. 
 
 Diim. He may not by the yard. 
 
 Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.— 
 
 Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is 
 gone ; she is two months oil her way. 
 
 Artn. What meanest thou ? 
 
 Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, 
 th*e poor wench is cast away : she's quirk ; the 
 child brags in her belly already ; 'tis yours. 
 
 Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten- 
 tates? thou shalt die. 
 
 Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd fur Jaque- 
 netfa that is quick by him ; and hang'd, for I'om- 
 pey that is dead by him. 
 
 Dum. iVIost rare Pompey I 
 
 Boyet. Renowned Pompey ! 
 
 Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great, 
 Pompey! Pompey the huge! 
 
 Dum. Hettor trembles. 
 
 Bircn. Pompey is mov'd : — More Ales, more 
 Ates; stir them on' stir them on! 
 
 Dum. Hector will challenge him. 
 
 Biron Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's 
 belly than will sup a flea. 
 
 Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. 
 
 Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern 
 man; I'll slash ; I'll do it by the sword: — I pray 
 you, let me borrow my arms again. 
 
 Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. 
 
 Cost, ril do it in my shirt. 
 
 Dum. IVIost resolute Pompey ! 
 
 Moth. Master, Jet r.ic take you a button-hole 
 lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for 
 the combat V What mean you ? you will lose your 
 reputation. 
 
 Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I 
 will not combat in my shirt. 
 
 Du7n. You may not deny it ; Pompey hath made 
 the challenge. 
 
 Arm. Sweet bloods, 1 both may and will. 
 
 Biron. What reason haxe you fort .-' 
 
 Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt ; 
 I go wool ward for penance. 
 
 Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome 
 for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he 
 wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's ; and 
 that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour. 
 
 Enter Mercade. 
 
 Mer. God save you, madam ! 
 
 Prin. Welcome, Mercade ; 
 But that thou interrupt'st our merrimenr. 
 
 Mer. I am sorry, madam ; for the news I bring. 
 Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father — 
 
 Prin. Dead, for ray life. 
 
 Mer. Even so ; my tale is told. [cloud. 
 
 Biron. Worthies, away ; the scene begins to 
 
 Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath : 
 I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole 
 of discretion, and 1 will right myself like a soldier. 
 
 [Exeunt fVorthies. 
 
 King. How fares your majesty i 
 
 Prin. Boyet, prepare ; 1 will away to night. 
 
 King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. 
 
 Prin. Prepare, I say. — I thank you, gracious 
 lords. 
 For all your fair endeavours ; and entreat. 
 Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe 
 In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide. 
 The liberal opposition of our spirits: 
 If overboldly we have borne ourselves 
 In the converse ol brealh, your gentlf-ness 
 VVas guilty of it — Farewell, wirttiy lord! 
 A hea\y heart Lears not an humble tongue : 
 Excuse me so, -oming so short ol thanks 
 For my great suit so easily obtain'd. 
 
 King. The extreme parts of time extrt niely torm 
 All causes to the purpose of his spet^d; 
 And often, at his \ery loose, decides 
 That, whiih long piocess could not arbitrate : 
 Aud though the mourning brow of progeii.\ 
 Forbiil tie suiiiuig couitesy of love 
 
 JO 
 
146 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 The holy suit, which fain it would convince ; 
 
 Vet, since love's argument was first on foot. 
 
 Let not the cloud of sorrow jiistle it 
 
 From what it purpos'd ; since, to wail friends lost, 
 
 Is not by much so wholesome, profitable 
 
 As to rrjnice at friends but newly found. 
 
 Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are dou- 
 ble. _ [grief; — 
 
 Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of 
 And by these badges understand the king. 
 For your fair sakes have we neglected time, 
 Play'd foul play with our oaths ; your beauty, la- 
 dies, 
 Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours 
 Even to the opposed end of our intents: 
 Apd what in us hath seeni'd ridiculous, — 
 .\s love is full of unbefitting strains ; 
 All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain ; 
 Form'd by the eye, and, tiierefore, like the eye, 
 Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, 
 Varyin'{ in subjects as the eye doth roll 
 To eveiy varied object in his glance : 
 Whichjiarty-coated presence of loose love 
 Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 
 Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities. 
 Those Jieavenly eyes, that look into these faults, 
 Suggesied us to make : tiierefore, ladies. 
 Our love being yours, the error that love makes 
 Is likewise yours : we to ourselves prove false, 
 liy being once false for ever to be true 
 To those, that make ns both, — fair ladies, you : 
 And even that falsehood, in itself a sin. 
 Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. 
 
 Prin. VVe have receiv'd your letters, full of 
 Vour favours, the ambassadors of love ; [love ; 
 
 And, in our maiden council, rated them 
 At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy. 
 As bombast, and as lining to the time; 
 But more devout than this, in our respects, 
 Have we not been ; and therefore met your loves 
 In their own fashion, like a merriment. 
 
 Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more 
 than jest. 
 
 Long. So did our looks. 
 
 Ros. We did not quote them so. 
 
 King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour. 
 Grant us your loves. 
 
 Prin. A time, methinks, too short 
 
 To make a world-without-end bargain in: 
 No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much. 
 Full of dear guiltiness : and, tiierefore, this, — 
 If for my love (as there is no such cause) 
 Vou will do aught, this shall you do for me : 
 Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed 
 To some forlorn and naked hermitage. 
 Remote from all the pleasures of the world 
 There stay, until the twelve celestial signs 
 Have brought about their annual reckoning : 
 If this austere insociable life 
 Change not your offer, made in heat of blood ; 
 If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, 
 Nip not he gaudy blossoms of your love, 
 But that it bear tliis trial, and last love ; 
 Then, at the expiration of the year. 
 Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, 
 And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine, 
 I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut 
 My woeful self up in a mourning house ; 
 Raining the tears of lamentation 
 For the remembrance of my father's death. 
 If this thou do deny, let our hands part; 
 Neither intitled in the other's heart. 
 
 King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 
 To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, 
 The sudden hand of death close up mine eye ! 
 Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. 
 
 Biron. And what to me, my love, and what to 
 me? 
 
 Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; 
 
 ou are attaint with li"dfs and perjury ; 
 
 Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, 
 
 A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never real, 
 
 But seek the weary beds of people sick. 
 
 Dii?n. But what to nie, my love ? but what to me? 
 
 Kat/i. A wife ! — A beard, fair health, and bou 
 nesty ; 
 With three-fold love I wish you all these three. 
 
 Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife ? 
 
 Katk. Not so, my lord; — a twelvemonth and a day 
 I'll maik no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say ; 
 Come when the king doth to my lady come. 
 Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. 
 
 Dian. I'll serve thee true and faithfully lill then 
 
 Kath. Vet swear not, lest you be forsworn again 
 
 Long. What says Maria "? 
 
 Mar. At the twelvemonth's end 
 
 I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. 
 
 Long. I'll stay with patience ; but the time is long. 
 
 Mar. Tiie liker you ; few taller are so young. 
 
 Biron. Studies my lady ? mistress, luok.on me. 
 Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, 
 W^hat humble suit attends thy answer tliere; 
 Impose some service on me for thy love. 
 
 Ros. Olt have I heard of you, iiiy lord Biron, 
 Before I saw you : and tlie world's large tongue 
 Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ; 
 Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ; 
 Which you on all estates will execute. 
 That lie witiiin the mere, of your wit : 
 To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain ; 
 And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, 
 (Without the which I am not to be won,) 
 You siiall this twehemontli term, fn-m day to day. 
 Visit the speechless sick, and still converse 
 With groaning wretches : and your task shall be. 
 With all the fierce endeavour of your wit. 
 To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 
 
 Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of 
 death? 
 It cannot be ; it is impossible : 
 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 
 
 Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing 
 spirit. 
 Whose influence is begot of that loose grace. 
 Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools : 
 A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, 
 Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans. 
 Will hear your idle scorns, continue then. 
 And I will have you, and that fault withal; 
 But, if they will not, throw away that spirit, 
 And I shall find you empty of that fault. 
 Right joyful of your reformation. [befall, 
 
 Birun. A twelvemonth ? well, befall what will 
 I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. 
 
 Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my 
 leave. {To the King.) 
 
 King. No, madam : we will bring you on your way. 
 
 Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play: 
 Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy 
 Might well have made our sport a comedy. 
 
 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a 
 day. 
 And then 'twill end. 
 
 Biron. That's too long for a play. 
 
 Enter Armado. 
 
 Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, — 
 
 Prin. Was not that Hector? 
 
 Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. 
 
 Arm. 1 will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave : 
 I am a votary ; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold 
 the plough for ber sweet love three years. But, 
 most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue 
 that the two learned men have compiled, in praise 
 of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have foiiowed 
 in the end of our show. 
 
 King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. 
 
 Attn. Holla I approach. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 ur 
 
 Enter Holofernes, NATH.vNtnL, Mom, Cos- 
 tard, and others. 
 
 This side is Hienis, winter; this Ver, tlie spring ; 
 tlie iwie niaintriin'd by tiie owl, the other by the 
 cuckoo. Ver. begin. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 Sjiriitf/. W/ien daisies pied, and violets blue, 
 And tndij-sinocLs all silver-tvhite, 
 And ciickoo-hiids of yellow hue. 
 
 Do paint the ?neadotos with deli'jht, 
 The cttchoo then, 07t every tree, 
 Mocks married >nen, for thus sings he, 
 
 Vuckoo ; 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo, — tvord of fear, 
 Unpleasiu'j tu a tnarried ear ! 
 
 II. 
 
 When shepherds pipe on oaien slratvs, 
 A nd merry larks are iilouyhmen s clocks. 
 
 When turtles tread, and rooks, and dates. 
 And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 
 
 The ciickuo then, on every tree, 
 
 blocks married 7?ien,for thus sings he. 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 Cuckoo, citckoo, — ivordof fear, 
 Unpleasin'j to a married ear ! 
 
 III. 
 TT'iitt. When icicles hang by the wall. 
 
 And Dick the sliep/ierd blows his nail 
 And Tom beats logs into the hall, 
 
 And milk comes frozen home in pail, 
 TT hen blond is nipp'd, and tvays befoul. 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 
 To-who ; 
 Tu-whit, to-ivho, a merry note, 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When all aloud the wind doth bloio. 
 
 And coughing droivns the parson's saw. 
 And birds sit brooding in the snow. 
 
 And Marian s nose looks red aytd raw. 
 When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, 
 Then nigldly sings the staring owl, 
 
 To-who; 
 Tu-whit, to-ivho, a merry note. 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after tbe 
 songs of Apollo. Von, tliat way ; we, this way. 
 
 \_Exeuni. 
 
MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Of the Merchant of Venice Uie style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of conslrnc- 
 Uon Tlie conic part raises lai:g .ler, and (he serious fixes expectalion. 1 he prohalnlity of eitlif r one or the otiier 
 itory cannot be mainlaincd. ine u.ion of two actions in one event is in this d.a.na eminently l.appy^ Dryden 
 was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Iriar, which jet, X belieic, the 
 critic will hud excelled by this plav. Jo/itisoit. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DUKE OF VENICE. 
 PKINCE OF MOROCCO 
 PRINCE OF ARRAL.ON 
 
 ANTONIO, Ifie Mfrchant uf Venice. 
 
 BAS^ANIO, /lis Friend. 
 
 SALANIO. ; 
 
 SALAKINO, ). 
 
 GRATIANO. \ 
 
 liORENZt), in Love with Jessica. 
 
 SHYLOCK, a Jew. 
 
 TUBAL, a Jeiv, /lis Friend. 
 
 Suitors to Portia. 
 
 Friends to Antonio and Bassnnio. 
 
 LAUNCELOT COBBO, a C/own, Servant to Skylock 
 
 OLD GOBBO, Val/ier to Launceiul. 
 
 SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. 
 
 LEONAKDI), Servant tu Bassanio. 
 
 B ALTH A/tAR., ) .^tfn^nntt ta Vnrtin 
 STEl'HANU, ^ ^eriants to lorna. 
 
 PORTIA, a rich. Heiress. 
 NEKISSA, /ler Waiting viuid. 
 JESSICA, JJanghler to Shyluck. 
 
 Magnificves vf Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, 
 - Goaler, Servants, and other Attendants. 
 
 HcE^E,— Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. 
 Ant. In sootli, I know not why I am so sad ; 
 It wearies iiie ; jon say, it wearies yon ; 
 But how I cauglit it, found it, or came by it, 
 Wliat stiitt""tis made of, whereof it is born, 
 I am to learn ; 
 
 And such a want -wit sadness makes of me, 
 Tiiat 1 have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Salar. You nnnd is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail, — 
 Like signiors and ricli burghers ol' tlie flood. 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, — 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
 That curtsy to them, do them reverence. 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth. 
 The better part of my aflections would 
 Be witii my hopes abroad. 1 should be still 
 Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind ; 
 Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object that might make me fear 
 Misfortune to my \entares, out of doubt, 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
 1 should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
 But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
 .\nd see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand. 
 Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs. 
 To kiss her burial. Should 1 go to church. 
 And see the holy edifice of stone. 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side. 
 Would scatter all her spices on the stream ; 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
 And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought 
 To think on this : and shall I lack the thought. 
 That such a thing, bechanced, would make nie sad? 
 But tell not me ; I know, Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandize. 
 
 Ant. Believe me, no: 1 thank my fortune for it. 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted. 
 Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year: 
 Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad. 
 
 Salan. Why then you are in love. 
 
 Ant. Fy, fy ' 
 
 Salan. Not in love 
 yon are sad, 
 Because you are not merry 
 
 neither? Then let's say. 
 
 and 'twere as easy 
 
 For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are 
 merry, (Janus, 
 
 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed 
 Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her tmie : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes. 
 And laugh, like parrots, at a bag piper; 
 And other of such vinegar aspect, 
 'i'hat they'll not show their teeth in way of smile. 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Guatiano. 
 
 Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble 
 kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo : fare you well ; 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Salar. I would have staid till I had made you 
 merry. 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 
 Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 
 Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? 
 Say, when ? 
 You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 
 
 Salar. We'll make onr leisures to attend on 
 yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio • 
 
 Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found 
 Antonio, 
 We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 Bass. I will not fail you. 
 
 Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; 
 You have too much respec* upt)o the world : 
 They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 
 Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
 
 A7U. I hold the world but as the world, Gra- 
 tiano; 
 A stage, where every man must play a part. 
 And mine a sad one. 
 
 ■ Gra. Let me play the fool : 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine. 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying gioans. 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,- 
 Sit like his giandsire cut in alabaster? 
 Sleep, when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
 By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
 I love thee, and it is my lo\e that speaks ; — 
 There are a sort of men, whose visages 
 Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond ; 
 And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
 With (lurpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 Of wisdom, gravity, prolbmid conceit; 
 As who should say, / am Sir Oracle. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MERCFIANT OF VENICE. 
 
 i4d 
 
 And, when J ope my lips, let no dog bark ! 
 
 O, my Aiitoiiii,, I do kiii»w ol'tliese, 
 
 Tliat therefore only are reputed wise. 
 
 For saying notliing ; who, I am very sure, [ears, 
 
 If they slKMild speak, would almost damn tiiosc 
 
 Which, hearing' tiiem, would call their brothers 
 
 I'll tell thee more of tt)is another time : [fools. 
 
 But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
 
 For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. — 
 
 Come, good Lorenzo: — Fare ye well, a while; 
 
 I'll end my exhortation after dinner. [time : 
 
 Lor. Well, we will leave yon then till dmner- 
 I mnst be one of these same dumb wise men, 
 For Grutiatio ne\er It ts me speak. [more, 
 
 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years 
 Thou shalt not kn')w the so(uid of tiiine own tongue. 
 
 Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gvar. 
 
 Grat. Thanks, i'faitli ; for silence is only com- 
 mendable 
 [d a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 
 [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 
 
 Ant, Is that any tiling now ? 
 
 Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal ofnotliing, 
 more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are 
 as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; 
 yon shall seek all day ere yon find them ; and, 
 when yon have them, they are not worth the search. 
 
 Ant. Well ; tell me now, what lady is this same, 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage. 
 That you to day promis'd to tell me of j" 
 
 B(iss. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
 How much I have disabled miiie estate, 
 liy something showing a more swelling port 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
 Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
 From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
 Is, to come laiily off from the great debts, 
 Wherein riiy time, something too prodigal. 
 Hath left me gaged : to you, Antonio, 
 I owe the most, in money, and in love • 
 And from yo'ir love I have a warranty 
 To unbnrthen all my plots, and purposes. 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Ant. i pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
 4nd, if it stand, as you yourself still do. 
 Within tne eye of honour, be assur'd. 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means. 
 Lie all nnlock'd to your occasions. 
 
 Bass. In my schooldays, when I had lost one 
 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight [shaft, 
 
 riie self-same way, with more advised watch. 
 To find the other forth : and, by advent'ring both, 
 J oft found both : I urge this ctiildhood proof. 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 i owe yon much ; and, like a wilful youth, 
 That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
 \s I will watch the aim, or to find both. 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. [time. 
 
 Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but 
 To wind about my love with circumstance : 
 And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, 
 In making question of my uttermost. 
 Than if you had made waste of all I have: 
 Then do but say to me what I should do. 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
 And I am press'd unto it: tiierefore, speak. 
 
 Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, 
 And she is fiiir, and, fairer than that word. 
 Of wond'rous virtues ; sometimes from her eyes 
 I did receive fair speechless messages : 
 Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 For the four winds blow in from eiery coast 
 llenowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
 Hang on her temples like a golden Heece ; 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colrhos' strand, 
 
 And many Jnsons come in quest of her. 
 O, my Antonio, had i but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of thera, 
 I have a mind pres.ige.s me such thrift, 
 'i'hat I should questionless be fortunate. 
 
 Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at 
 Nor have I money, nor commodity [sea; 
 
 To raise a present sum : therefore go forth. 
 Try what my credit can in V'eniie do; 
 Tliat .shall be rack'd, ev en fo the uttermost. 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
 Where money is ; and I no question make, 
 To have it of my tiust, or for my sake. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 , Enter Portia and Nekiss.\. 
 
 Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is 
 aweary of this great world. 
 
 Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your mi- 
 series were in the same abundance as your good 
 fortunes are : and yet, for aught I see, they are as 
 sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve 
 with nothing : it is no mean happiness, therefore, to 
 be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes sooner by 
 white hairs, but competency lives longer. 
 
 Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Ner. They would do better, if well followed. 
 
 Por. If to do were as easy, as to know what 
 were good to do, chapels had been churches, and 
 poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good 
 divine that follows his own instructions: I can 
 easier teach twenty wh^t were good to be done, 
 than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teach 
 ing. The brain may devise laws for the blood; 
 but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree : such a 
 hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes 
 of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is 
 not in the fashion to choose me a husband : — O me, 
 the word choose ! 1 may neither clioose whom I 
 would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will 
 of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead 
 father: — Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot 
 choose one, nor refuse none ? 
 
 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy 
 men, at their deatli, have good inspirations ; there- 
 fore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three 
 chesfs, of gold, silver, and lead, (whereof who 
 chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, 
 never be chosen by any rightly, but one who yon 
 shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in 
 your afTection towards any of these princely suitors 
 that are already come? 
 
 Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou 
 namest them, I will describe them ; and according 
 to my description, level at my affection. 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth no- 
 thing but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great 
 appropriation to his own good parts, that he can 
 shoe him himself : I am much afraid, my lady his 
 mother played false with a smith. 
 
 Ner. Then is there the county Palatine. 
 
 Por. He dofh nothing but frown; as who should 
 say. And if you ivill not have me, chouse : he heaia 
 merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, he will prove 
 the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being 
 so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had 
 rather be married to a death's head with a bone in 
 his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me 
 from these two ! [LeBon? 
 
 Ner. How say yon by the French lord. Monsieur 
 
 Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass 
 for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a 
 mocker; but, he ! why, he hath a horse better than 
 the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning 
 than the count Palatine : he is every man in no man : 
 if a throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he 
 will fence with his own shadow; if 1 should marry 
 him, I should marry twenty husbands • if he would 
 
150 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act I, 
 
 despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me 
 • o madness, 1 sliall never requite him. 
 
 Ner W'iiat say you then to Faulconbridge, the 
 young baron of England if 
 
 Por. You know, I say nothing to him ; for he 
 understands not me, nor I iiim : he hath neither 
 Latin, French, nor Italian ; and you will come into 
 the court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth 
 in the English. He is a proper man's picture ; but, 
 alas I who can converse with a dumb show ? How 
 oddly he is suited ! I think, he bought his doublet 
 .'» Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
 Germany, and his behaviour every where. 
 
 Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his 
 neighbour I* 
 
 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; 
 for he borrowed a box of tlie ear of the English- 
 man, and swore he would pay him again, when he 
 was able : 1 think, the Frenchman became his 
 surety, and sealed under for another. 
 
 Ner. How like you the young German, the duke 
 of Snxony's nephew? 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is 
 sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he 
 is drunk : when he is best, he is little worse than 
 a man; and when he is worst, he is little better 
 than a beast: an the worst iall that ever fell, I 
 hope, i shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 Ner. If he should oiler to choose, and choose the 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform your fa- 
 thers will, if you should reluse to accept hiui. 
 
 Pur. 'I'herefore, (or fearof the worst, I pray thee, 
 set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary 
 casket: for, if the devil be within, and that tempt- 
 ation without, I know he will choose it. I will do 
 any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a 
 sponge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 these lords; they have acquainted me with their 
 determinations : which is, indeed, to return to their 
 dome, and to trouble you with no more suit ; unless 
 you may he won by souie other sort than your father's 
 imposition, depending on the caskets. 
 
 Pur. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die 
 as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the 
 manner of my father's will : I am glad this parcel 
 of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not one 
 among tiiem but I dote on his very absence, and I 
 pray God grant them a lair departure. 
 
 Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 
 tiuie, a Vent-tian, a scholar, and soldier, that came 
 bither in company of the Marquis of Montfenat :" 
 
 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so 
 was he called. 
 
 Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever 
 ray loolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserv- 
 ing a fill lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him well ; and I remember him 
 worthy of thy praise. — How now ! what news ? 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, 
 to take their leave : and there is a fore-runner 
 come trom a filth, the piiiice of Morocco ; who 
 brings word, the prince, his master, will be here 
 to-nii;lit. 
 
 Pur. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so 
 good heart as 1 can bid the other four iarewell, I 
 s!ioiild be glad of liis approach : if he have the con- 
 dition ot a saint, and the coinplexion of a devil, 
 1 had rather he should shiive me than wive m. . 
 Come, Nerissa. — Sirrah, go before. — Whiles we 
 shut the gate upon one wooer, aiicther knocks at 
 the (lour. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene lU.— Venice. A jniblic Place. 
 Enter Bassanio and Shylocx. 
 Shy. Thr. e thousand ducats, — well. 
 Bass. Ay, sir, for three montlis. 
 6Viy. For three months. — well. 
 
 Bass. For the which, as I told yon, Antonio shall 
 he bound. 
 
 S/ii/. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 
 
 Bass. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure 
 me :" Shiill 1 know your answer? 
 
 Sky. 'I'hree thousand ducats, for three months, 
 and Antonio bound. 
 ■ Bass. \ our answer to that. 
 
 S/iy. Antonio is a good man. [contrary ? 
 
 Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the 
 
 S/iy. Ho, no, no, no, no; — my meaning in saying 
 he is a good man, is to have you understand me, 
 that he is sufficient : yet his means are in .<)uppo- 
 sition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, anollier 
 to the Indies; I understand moreover upo" the 
 Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth lor 
 
 England, and other ventures he hath, squiinder'd 
 
 abroad ; but ships are but boards, sailors but men : 
 there be land-rats, and water-rats, water- thieves, 
 and land-thieves; I mean, pirates; and then, there 
 is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks : — The 
 man is, notwithstanding, sufficient ; — three thousand 
 ducats; — I think, I may take his bond. 
 
 Bass. Be assured you may. 
 
 S/iy. I will be assured, I may ; and, that I may 
 be assured, I will bethink me : may I speak witli 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 S/iy. \ es, to smell pork ; to eat of the habita- 
 tion which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the 
 deiil into; f will buy with you, sell with you, talk 
 wilh you, walk with you, and so following; but I 
 will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with 
 you. What news on the Rialto? — Who is he 
 comes here ? 
 
 E7iter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is signior Antonio. 
 
 S/iy. (Aside.) How like a lawning publican be 
 I hate him, for he is a Christian: [looks! 
 
 But more, for that, in low simplicity. 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with ns in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails. 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest: cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 Bass. Shylock, do you hear? 
 
 Sky. I am debating of my present store ; 
 And, by the near guess of my memory, 
 I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 Of full three thousand ducats: What of that? 
 Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my (ribe. 
 Will furnish nie : But soft; how many months 
 Do you desire? — Rest you fair, good signior; 
 
 {To Antonio.) 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 Ant. Shylock, albeit 1 neither lend nor boiTOW, 
 By taking, nor by giving of excess, 
 ^ et, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 I'll break a custom : — Is he yet possess'd, 
 IJow much you would? 
 
 Sky. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 A7ii. And for three months. 
 
 Sky. I had forgot, — three months, you told me so. 
 
 Well then, your bond ; and, let me see, But 
 
 hear you : 
 Methought, you said, yon neither lend, nor borrow. 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 A7it. I do never use it. 
 
 Sky. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep 
 This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 
 (As his wise mother wiouijht in his behalf,) 
 'i he third posses.sor; ay, lie was the third. 
 
 A'/it. And what ol Inm V did he take interest ' 
 
 Sky. No, nut take interest; not. as you »oid 
 Dutctly iiitfrt-st; mark what Jacob did [ 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 151 
 
 When Lr.ban and himself were compromis'd. 
 
 That all the eanhngs which were streak'd, and pied, 
 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being rank. 
 
 In the end of autumn turned to the rams : 
 
 And when the work of generation was 
 
 Between these woolly breeders in the act, 
 
 'I'he skilful shepherd peel'd nie certain wands. 
 
 And, in tiie doing of the deed of kind, 
 
 He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; 
 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 
 Fall party-colour"d lambs, and those were Jacobs 
 
 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; 
 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. [for; 
 
 Ant. This was a ventme, sir, tiiat Jacob serv'd 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
 But sway'd, and fashion'd, by the hand of heaven. 
 Was this inserted to make interest good '! 
 Or is your gold and silver, ewes and rams? 
 
 S//I/. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : — 
 But note me, signior. 
 
 A nt. Mark you this, Bassanio, 
 
 The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
 An evil soul, producing holy witness. 
 Is like a villain with a sniilino^ cheek; 
 A goodly apple rotten at the liearf ; 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath I [sum. 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats, — 'tis a good round 
 Three months from twelv e, then let me see the rate. 
 
 Ant. Well, Sliylock, shall we be beholden to you ? 
 
 Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft. 
 In the Rialto yon have rated me 
 About my monies, and my usances : 
 Still \vA\e 1 borne it with a patient shrug; 
 For stilferance is the badge of ali our tribe : 
 You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears, you need my help : 
 Go to, then; you come to nie, and you say, 
 Shylock, tve would have monies ; You say so ; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And toot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
 What should 1 say to you ? Sliould I not say. 
 Hath a dog money '! is it possible, 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or 
 Shall 1 bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
 With bated breath, and whispering humbleness. 
 
 Say this, 
 
 Fair sir, you spit on me on TVednesday last ; 
 You spurn d me such a day ; another time 
 You call'd me — dog; and for these courtesies 
 I'll lend you thus much monies. 
 
 Ant. 1 am as like to call thee so again. 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends ; (tor when did friendship take 
 A breed for barren metal of his friend ?) 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 iWiio, if he break, thou niay'st with better face 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! 
 
 1 would be friends with you, and ha\e your love. 
 Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
 Of usance lor my monies, and you'll not hear me : 
 This is kind I oli'er. 
 
 Ant. This were kindness. 
 
 Shy. This kindness will I show : — 
 
 Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
 Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport. 
 If you repay me not on such a day. 
 In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are 
 Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 Be nominated ibr an equal pound 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut oti'and taken 
 la what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 Ant. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a bond. 
 And say, there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me. 
 
 I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 
 
 Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it; 
 Within these two months, that's a month before 
 'I'his bond expires, I do expect return 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. Ofather Abraham, what these Christians are; 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
 The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell nie this; 
 If he should break his day» what should I gain 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
 A pound of man's flesh, tasen from a man. 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. 
 To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
 If he will take it, so; if not, adieu : 
 And, for my love, I pray yon, wrong me not. 
 
 Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notaiy's ; 
 Give him direction for this merry bond, 
 And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 
 See to my house, left in the feat fid guard 
 Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently 
 I will be with you. [Exit 
 
 Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 
 
 This Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kin<1. 
 
 Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind. 
 
 Ant. Come on; in this tliere can be no dismay, 
 My ships come home a month before the Hay. 
 
 [Exetmt. 
 ACT II. 
 Scene I. — Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Mo- 
 rocco, and his train; Portia, Nerissa, and 
 other of her Attendants. 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion. 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun. 
 To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born. 
 Where Phoebus' fire scaice thaws the icicle^ 
 And let us make incision for your love. 
 To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine. 
 I tell thee, lady, this as[)ect of mine 
 Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear. 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 
 Have lov'd it too : I would not change this hne. 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
 But, if my father had not scanted me, 
 And hedg'd ine by his wit, to yield myselt 
 His wife, who wins me by that means I told yon. 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair. 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet, 
 For my aff'ection. 
 
 Mor. Even for that I thank you; 
 
 Therefore, 1 pray you, lead me to the caskets. 
 To try my fortune. By this scimitar, — 
 That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince. 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 I would out stare the sternest eyes that look. 
 Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth, 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear. 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey. 
 To win thee, lady : but, alas the while ! 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 Which is the better man, the greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand . 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
 Miss that, which one unworthier may attain. 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Por. You nnnst take your chance ; 
 
 Ai;d either not attempt to choose at all. 
 Or swear, before you chouse, — if you choose vrronj;, 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 In way of marriage : theri fore be ad» is'd. 
 Mor. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chauce, 
 
152 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Por. First, forward to the temple ; after dinner 
 Yonr hazard shall be made. 
 
 Mor. Good fortune then ! (Cornets.) 
 
 To make me bless'd, orcursed'st among- men. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Launcelot Gobbo. 
 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to 
 run from this Jew, my master : the tiend is at mine 
 elbow : and tempts me; saying to me, Gobbo, Laun- 
 celot Gobbo, good Lnuncelot, or good Gobbo, or 
 good Lnuncelot Gobbo, uae your le<js, take the 
 start, run away : My conscience says, — no, take 
 heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gobbo ; 
 or as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not 
 run ; scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most 
 conrag-eons fiend bids me pack ; via ! says the fiend ; 
 away! snys the fiet\(\., for the heavens ; rouse tip a 
 brave mind, says tlie fiend, and run. -Well, my 
 conscience, hanging about the neck of.iny heart, says 
 very wisely to me, — my honest friend Launcelot, 
 being an honest man s son, or rather an honest 
 woman's son; — for, indeed, my father did something 
 smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste : 
 well, my conscience says, Launcelot, budge not ; 
 budge, says the fiend ; bud<je not, says my con- 
 science : Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, 
 say I, yon counsel well : to be ruled by my con- 
 science, I should stay with the Jew, mv master, who 
 (God bless the marie ! ) is a kind of devil; and, to 
 run away from the Jew, I should be ruled hy the 
 fiend, who, saving yonr reverence, is the devil him- 
 self : Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarna- 
 tion; and, ill my conscience, my conscience is but 
 a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel nie to 
 stay with the Jew : The (iend gives the more friendly 
 counsel : I will run, fiend; my heels are at your 
 commandment, I will run. 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 
 
 Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray you; which 
 is tiie way to master Jew's? 
 
 Laun. [Aside.) O heavens, this is my true be- 
 gotten fiitiier ! wlio, being more than sand-blind, 
 higli-gravel blind, knows me not : — I will try con- 
 clusions uitii him. 
 
 Gob. Master, young gentleman, I pray you, which 
 !s the way to master Jew's i 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand, at the next 
 turning, but. at tlie next turning of all, on your left; 
 marry at tiie very next turning, turn of no hand, but 
 turn down iridliectly to the Jew's house. 
 
 Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to 
 hit. Can yaii tell me. whether one Launcelot, that 
 dwells witli him, dwell with him, or no ^ 
 
 Laun. falk you of young master Launcelot? — 
 Mark me now; (aside.) now will I raise the waters: 
 — Talk you of young master Launcelot? 
 
 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son; his 
 tather, though I say it, is an honest exceeiding poor 
 man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we 
 talk of young master Launcelot. 
 
 Gob. Viiiir worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Laun. Bit I pi ay you ergo, old man, ergo, 1 be- 
 seech yuii: Talk you of yuung master Launcelot? 
 
 Gob. Ol Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 
 
 Latin. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not of mas- 
 ter Launcelot, father; fur the young gentleman (ac- 
 cording to fatts and destinies, and such odd sayings, 
 the sisters three, and such branches of learning,) is, 
 indeed, deceased; or, as you would say, in plain 
 terms, gone to heaven. 
 
 Gob. iVIairy, God forbid! the boy was the very 
 staff of my age, my very prop. 
 
 Laiin. Dii I look like a cudgel, or a hovel post, 
 a staff, or a prop?— Do you know me, father? 
 
 Gob. Alack tlie day, I know yon not, young gen- 
 
 tleman : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy (God 
 rest his soul !) alive or dead ? 
 
 Latin. Do you not know me, father? 
 
 Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not 
 
 Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had yonr eyes, you 
 might fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that 
 knows Ins own child. Well, old man, I will tell yon 
 news of your son : give me your blessing : truth will 
 come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's 
 son may ; but, in the end, truth will out. 
 
 Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are 
 not Launcelot, my boy. 
 
 Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about 
 it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your 
 boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. 
 
 Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 
 
 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that; but 
 f am Launcelot, the Jew's man; and. I am sure, 
 Margery, your wife, is my mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelot, thou ait mine own flesh and 
 blood. Lord worshi))p"d might he be ! what a beard 
 hast thou got ! thou liast got more hair on thy chin, 
 than Dobbin mythillliorse has on his tail. 
 
 Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail 
 grows backward ; I am sure he had more hair on 
 liis tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him. 
 
 Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost 
 thou and thy master agree ? I have brought him a 
 present; how 'gree you now? 
 
 Laun. Well, well, but for mine own part, as 1 
 have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest 
 till I have run some ground : my master's a very Jew : 
 Give him a present! give him a halter: I am fainish'd 
 in his service ; you may tell every finger I have with 
 my ribs. Father, I am i;lad von are com" ; givp me 
 your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, 
 gives rare new liveries ; if I serve not him, I will run 
 as far as God has any ground. — O rare fortune! 
 here comes the man; — to him, father : for I am a 
 Jew, if 1 serve the Jew any longer. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, tvith Leonardo, and other 
 
 Follotvers. 
 
 Bass. You may do so ; — but let it be so hasted, 
 that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 
 clock: see these letters deliverd ; put the liveries 
 to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my 
 lodging. [Exit a Servant, 
 
 Laun. To him, father. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship ! 
 
 Bass. Gramercy : Wonld'st thou anght with me ? 
 
 Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
 man ; that would, sir, as my father shall specify, — 
 
 Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
 say. to serve, — 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, i serve 
 the Jew, and I have a desire, as my father shall 
 specify, — 
 
 Gob. His master and he (saving yopr worship's 
 reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins : — 
 
 Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the 
 Jew having done me wrona', doth cause me, as my 
 father, being 1 hope an old man, shall frutify unto 
 you,— 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I wonld 
 bestow npon your worship ; and my suit is.— ;■ 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to 
 myself, as your worship shall know by this honest 
 old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet, 
 poor man. my father. 
 
 Bas.f. One speak for both ; — What would you ? 
 
 Laun. Serve yon, sir. 
 
 Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit 
 Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day. 
 And hath (lieferr'd thee, if it be preferment, 
 To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 153 
 
 L/fun. The old proverb is very well parted between 
 my iiiiisier Sliylock and you, sir ; you hav e tlie grace 
 oi' tJod, sir, and he liath enmigh. 
 
 Bass. Tho'i speak'st it well : Go, father, with 
 thy son : 
 Take leave of tiiy old master, and inquire 
 JMy lodging out: — Give iiim a livery 
 
 ( To his FoUotvers.) 
 More guarded than his fellows: see it done. 
 
 Latin. Father, in: — I cannot get a service, no; 
 — I hiue ne'er a tongue in my head ! — Well ; [look- 
 in<j on his palm.) if any man in Italy ha\e a i'itirpr 
 table, u'iiich doth offer to swear Ujion a book ! — I 
 shall have good fortune ; p,o to, ht-re's siuii)le l;ne 
 of life! here's a small trifle ol wives : alas, fifteen 
 wives is nothing; eleven widows, and nine maids, is 
 a simple coming in for one man ; and then, to 
 'sea, e drowning thrice ; and to be in peril ol my life 
 with the edge of a leatlier-bed ; — here are simple 
 'ncapes ! Well, if fortime be a woman, she's a g(jod 
 ■wench for this gear. — Father, come; I'll take my 
 leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 [Exeunt Launcelot and old Gohho. 
 
 Bass. I pray tliee, good Leonardo, think on this ; 
 These things being bought, and orderly bestow'd, 
 ll<-tiirn in haste, for 1 do feast to-night 
 My best esteem'd acquaintance ; hie thee, go. 
 
 Jjnon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Where is your master? 
 
 Yonder, sir, be walks. 
 [_Exit Leojiardo, 
 
 Leon. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio,- 
 
 Bass. Gratiano! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 
 Bass. Yon have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with 
 you to Belmont. [Gratiano; 
 
 Bass. Why, then you must; — But hear thee. 
 Thou ait too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; — 
 Parts tliat become thee happily enough, 
 And m such eyes as ours appear not faults; 
 But vvhi^re thou art not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal ; — pray thee, take pain 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit j lest, through thy wild behaviour, 
 I be misconstrued m the place I go to. 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 
 If I do not pnt on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; 
 Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen ; 
 Use all tiie observance ot civility. 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 'J'o iilcase his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we sljall sl^c your be.ning. 
 
 Gra. Nay, but 1 bar to night; you shall not gige 
 By what v,e do to nigiit. [me 
 
 Bass. No, (hat were pity ; 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of miitli, lor we have friends 
 That purpose merriment; but fare you vvell, 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gra. And 1 miist to Lorenzo, and the rest ; 
 But we will visit you at supper- time. [Exewit. 
 
 Scene IIL — The same. A Room in Shylock's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
 
 Jis. I am so ry, thou wilt leave my fntlier so; 
 Oiir house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousuess: 
 But iv-f tlihe well ; there is a ducat fir thee. 
 And, SiUincelut, soon at supper shalt thou see 
 Lort-iizj, who is thy new master's gurst : 
 Givf lum tms Ittter; do it secretly. 
 
 And so farewell ; I would not have my father 
 See me talk witli thee. 
 
 Latin. Adieu ; — tears exhibit my tongue. JVlost 
 
 beaiilifiil pagan, — most sweet Jew I If a Christian 
 do not play tlie knave, and gf I thee, I nni much de- 
 ceived : but, adieu I these luolish drops do somewhat 
 drown my manly spirit ; adieu I \E.\it. 
 
 Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, 
 To be asham'd to he my father's child ! 
 But though 1 am a daughter to liis blood, 
 1 am not ti^ his manners : O Lorenzo, 
 If thou keep promise, I sliall end this strife ; 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wile. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV.— The satne. A Street. 
 
 Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and 
 Salanio. 
 
 Lor. Nav. we will slink away at supper-time; 
 Disguise IIS at my lodging, and return 
 All in an hour. 
 
 Gra. We have iu)t made good preparation. 
 
 Salar. We liave not spoke us yet of torch- 
 bearers. 
 
 Salan. 'lis v ile, unless it may be quaintly order'd; 
 And better, in my mind, not undertook. 
 
 Lor. |Tis now but lour o'clock ; we hav e two hours 
 To furnish us ; — 
 
 Enter Launcelot, tvith a letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 
 
 Latin. An it shall please you to break up this, it 
 shall seem to signify. 
 
 Lor. 1 know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on, 
 Is the fiiir hand that writ 
 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 
 Lor. Wliither goest thou ? 
 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew 
 to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
 
 Lor. Hold here, take this: — tell gentle Jessica, 
 I will not fail ht-r!— speak it privately ; go. — 
 Gentlemen, [^Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night '. 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 
 Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 
 
 Salan. And so will I. 
 
 Lor. Meet me and Gratiano, 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging, some hour hence. 
 
 Salar. 'Tis good we do so. 
 
 [Exeutit Salar. arid Salan 
 
 Gra. Was not that letter Irom fair Jessica .' 
 
 Lor. I must needs tell thee all : she hiith di, 
 rected, 
 How I shall take her from her fathers hou.se ; 
 What gold, and jewels, she is furnish'd with; 
 What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
 If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven. 
 It will be lor his gentle daughter's sake : 
 And never dare misfortune cross her foot. 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, — 
 'I'hat she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
 Come, go witli me ; peruse this, as thou goest : 
 F'air Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. Before Shylock's House. 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thj 
 judge, 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio: 
 What, Jessica! — thou slialt not gormandize. 
 As thou hast done with me ; — VVhat Jessica! — 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out: 
 Why, Jessica, I say ! 
 
 Laun. Why, Jessica ! 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call V I do not hid (liee c:ill. 
 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, 1 coiilil 
 do nothing without bidding. 
 
154 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jeg. Call yon ? VV'liat is your will ? 
 Sfiy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
 There are my keys: — But wherefore should I go ? 
 i am not bid for love ; tliey flatter me : 
 But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl. 
 Look to my house : — I a'li right loth to go ; 
 'J'liere is sonic ill a-brewing towards my rest. 
 For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Lnitii. I beseech you. sir, go ; my yqjing master 
 dotli expect your repioach. 
 Sliij. So do I his. 
 
 Laun. And tliey have conspired together, — I 
 will not say, you shall see a masque ; but if you do, 
 then it xvas not for nothing that my nose fell a 
 bleeding on Black-Monday last, at six o'clock i' the 
 morning, falling out that year on Ash-V\'ednesday 
 was four year in the alteruoon. [Jessica : 
 
 S/i^. What ! are there masques ? Hear you me, 
 liock up my doors: and when you hear the dnmi, 
 And the \ile squeaking of the wry-neck'd file. 
 Clamber not you uj) to the casements then. 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street, 
 To «aze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; 
 But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. — By Jacob's staff I swear, 
 \ have no mind of feasting forth to night : 
 But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah : 
 Say. I will come. 
 
 Laiai. I will go before, sir. — 
 
 Mistress, look out at window, for all this ; 
 There will come a Christian by, 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. 
 
 Slitj. What says that fool of tlagar'soH'spring, ha? 
 Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress ; no- 
 thing else. [feeder, 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough ; but a huge 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
 Moie than the wild cat ; drones hive not with me ; 
 Therefore I part with hun ; and part with him 
 To one, that I would have him help to waste 
 His borrow'd purse. — Well, Jessica, go m; 
 Perhaps, I will return immediately; 
 Do as i bid you. 
 
 Shut doors after you : fast bind, fast find ; 
 A proverb never stale in tlnifty mind. [Exit. 
 
 Je.i. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not ciost, 
 I have a father, you a daugiiter, lost. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VI. — The Same. 
 
 Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house, under wliich Lo- 
 Desir'd us to make stand. jrenzo 
 
 Salar. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour. 
 For lovers ever run before tiie clock. 
 
 Salar. O, ten times faster Veuiis' pigeons fly 
 To seal love's b.jiids new made, than tliey are wont. 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
 
 Gra. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast, 
 VVitli that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
 Where is the horse, tliat doth untread again 
 His tedious measures with the iinbated fire 
 That he did pace them first? All things that are. 
 Are with more spirit chased than eiijoy'd. 
 How like a younker, or a prodigal. 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hiigg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
 How like the prodigal doth she return ; 
 With over-weather'd rihs, and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind I 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo; — more of this here- 
 after, [abode ; 
 Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long 
 Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait. 
 
 When you shall please fo play the thieves for wives 
 I'll watch as long for you then. — Approach; 
 Here dwells my father Jew: — Ho! who's within? 
 
 Enter Jessica above, in hoy's clothes. 
 
 Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty. 
 Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 
 
 hor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jes. Lorenzo, certiiin ; and my love, indeed ; 
 For who love I so much? And now wiio knows, 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 
 Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are wilne.ss that 
 thou art. [pains. 
 
 Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the 
 I aui glad 'tis nigiit, yon do not look on nie. 
 For I am much asham'd of my exchange : 
 But love is bli[id, and lovers cannot see 
 'I'iie pretty lolies tliat themselves commit; 
 For il' they could, Cupid him.self would blush 
 'i'o see me thus translormed to a boy. 
 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer 
 
 Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. 
 Why, 'tis an ofiice of discovery, love ; 
 And I should be obsciir'd. 
 
 Lor. So are yon, sweet, . 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 But come at once ; 
 
 For the close night doth play the runaway. 
 And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast. 
 
 Jes. I w ill make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 With .seme more ducats, and be with you straight. 
 
 [Exit, from ahovn. 
 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 
 Lor. Beshrew me, but I lo^e her heartily, 
 For she is wise, if I can .judge of her; 
 .\nd fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; 
 And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 
 -"^nd therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica, below. 
 
 What, art thou come? — On, gentlemen, away ; 
 Our masquing mates by this time for /is stay. 
 
 [Exit luillt Jessica and Salarino^ 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Who's there ? 
 
 Gra. Signior .Antonio'^ 
 
 Ant. Fy, fy, (>ralianoI where are all the rest? 
 'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you : — 
 No masque to-night; the wind is come about, 
 Bassanio |)resently will go aboard : 
 I have sent twenty out fo seek for you. 
 
 Gra. 1 am glad out; I desire no more delight, 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene \\l.— Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 Flourish of (.'ornels. Enter Portia, with the 
 
 Prince of AIorocco, and both their Iraims. 
 
 Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
 The several caskets to this noble prince : — 
 Now make your choice. [bears :-- 
 
 Mor. 'i'he first, of gold, who this inscription 
 Who chooselh me, shall ijain what many men 
 
 desire. 
 The second, silver, which this promise carries; — 
 Who chooseth me. shall ijel as much as he deserves 
 This tlii;d, dull lead, vvitli waruing all us blunt; — 
 f^ ho chooseth tne, must tjive and hazard all he 
 
 hath. 
 How shall 1 know if I do choose the right '? 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture, pn-incet 
 If you choose that, then 1 am yours withal. 
 
 3/or. Some god direct my judgment! Let nie see 
 I will survey llie inscriptions back again: 
 Wliat says this leaden casket? 
 Who chooseth me, mvst ijive and hazard all At 
 
 hath. 
 Must give — For what? for lead? liozard iiji lead? 
 
SCKXE 9. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 155 
 
 Tliis casket threatens; men, that hazard all, 
 
 !)o it in hope of fair advantages: 
 
 A ffoiden mind stoops not to shows of dross; 
 
 I'll then nor give, nor hazard, aught for lead. 
 
 WliHt says the silver, with her virgin hue ? 
 
 ly/w ckooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. 
 
 .As iiiiich as he deserves i" — Pause there, Morocco, 
 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
 
 li tliou he'st rated by thy estimation, 
 
 'i'iioii dost deserve enough; and yet enough 
 
 .May not extend so far as to the lady ; 
 
 And yet to be afeard of my deserving, 
 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
 
 .As much as I deserve ! — VVhy, that's the lady; 
 
 r do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
 
 In graces, and in qualities of breeding; 
 
 JJiit more than these, in love I do deserve. 
 
 VVIiat if I stray 'd no further, but chose here ? — 
 
 L^'t's see once more tiiis saying grav'd in gold : 
 
 fVho chooseth me, shall gain what many men 
 
 desire. 
 Why, that's the lady: all the world desires her: 
 From the four corners of the earth they come, 
 'Vo kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
 The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds 
 Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now, 
 For princes to come view fair Portia : 
 The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head 
 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 To stop the foreign spirits ; hut they come. 
 As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
 One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
 Is't like, that lead contains her? Twere damnation 
 'I'o think so base a thought ; it were too gross 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 Or shall I think, in silver she's immur'd. 
 Being ten times undervalued to try'd gold? 
 O sinful thought! Never so ricli a gem 
 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
 A coin, that bears the figure of an angel 
 Stauiped in gold; but that's inscu.p'd upon ; 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 Lies all within. — Deliver me the key; 
 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 
 Por. Tlieie, take it, prince ; and if my form lie 
 tliere. 
 Then I am yours. [Tie unlocks the golden casket.) 
 
 Mor. O liell ! wliat have we here ? 
 A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll '! I'll read the writing. 
 All tliat glisters is not gold. 
 Often liave you heard iluit told: 
 Many a man his life hath sold. 
 But my outside to behold: 
 Gilded tombs do tvor/t/s infold 
 Had you been as wise as bold. 
 Young in limbs, in judgmetit old. 
 Your anstaer had not been inscroU'd : 
 Fare you well; your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed : and labour lost: 
 Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost. — 
 Portia, adieu I I have too grievd a ht-art 
 To take a tedious !ea\e : thus losers part. [Exit. 
 
 Por. A gentle riddance: Draw the curtains, 
 
 go ; 
 
 Let all ol his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 
 Scene VIM. — Venice. A Street. 
 Enter S.\L.\RIN0 and Salanio. 
 Salar. Wiiy man, I saw Bassanio under tiail; 
 With him is Gratiaiio gone along ; ' 
 And in tueir ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not 
 Salan. 'I'lie villain Jew with outcries rais'd the 
 duke; 
 Who went with liim to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Salar. He came loo late, tlie ship was under sail : 
 But there the duke was gi\eii to imderstand, 
 That in a gondola were seen t igetlii-r 
 Lorenzo ami his auioroas Jes-ica: 
 Besides, Antonio certily'd th^- duke. 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Salan. I never heard a passion so confus'd. 
 So stranoe, outrageous, and so variable. 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
 My daughter!— O my ducats!— my daughter: 
 
 Fled with a Christian!— 7ny christian ducats! 
 
 Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter! 
 A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 
 Of double ducats, stol'nfrom me by my daughter! 
 And jewels ; two stones, two rich and precious 
 
 stones, 
 Slol'n by my daughter! — Justice ! find the girl ! 
 S/ie hath the stones upon her, and the ducats ! 
 
 Salar. Why, all the bnvs in Venice follow him. 
 Crying, — his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Salar. Marry, well remember'd : 
 
 I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday; 
 Who told me,— in the narrow seas, that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country, richly fraught : 
 I thought upon Antonio, when he told me; 
 And wish'd in silence, that it were not his. 
 
 Salan.Yow were best to tell Antonio what you hear, 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: 
 Bassanio told him, he would make some speed 
 Of his return ; he answer'd — Do not so. 
 Slubber not business fur my sake, Bassanio, 
 But stay the very ripitig of the time ; 
 And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me. 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
 Be merry, and employ your chief est thoughts 
 To courtship, and sicch fair ostents of love 
 As s/iall conveniently become you there : 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him. 
 And with affection wondrous sensible. 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they |)arted. 
 
 Salan. I think, he only loves the world for him. 
 I pray thee, let us go, and find him out. 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Salar. Do we so. {E.xeunt. 
 
 Scene IX. — Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 
 Enter Nerissa, with a Servant, 
 Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw tlie curtain 
 
 straight; 
 The prince of Arragou hath ta'en his oath. 
 And comes to his election presently. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arra- 
 GON, I'ORTIA, and their trains. 
 
 Por. Behold, there stand the casket.s, noble prince. 
 If you choose tii:it wherein I am coiitain'd. 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be soleinniz'd ; 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord. 
 You must be gmie from hence imuiediately. 
 
 Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe ttiree things 
 First, never to unfold to any one 
 Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail 
 Of the right casket, never in my life 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage ; lastly. 
 If I do (ail in fortune of my choice. 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear. 
 That comes to hazard for my wortiiless self. 
 
 Ar. And so have I addn ss'd ine. Fortune now 
 To my heart's hope I — Gold, silver, and base lead. 
 Who chooseth me, m.ust give, and hazard all fie 
 
 hath. 
 You shall look fiirer, ere I give, or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest? ha ! let me see: — 
 Who chooseth me, shall gain tijhat many men 
 
 desire. 
 VVhat many men desire? — Th;it many may be nieant 
 By the fo(d multitude, that choose by show. 
 
156 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
 Which pries nut totiie interior, but. iil;e the martlet, 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall. 
 Even in the force and road <>f casualty. 
 I will not choose what many men desire. 
 Because I will not jump with conimon spirits. 
 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
 Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure house ; 
 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 
 PVho choose.th me, shall get as much as he de- 
 serves ; 
 And well said too : for who shall go about 
 To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
 Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 
 O. that estiites, degrees, and offices. 
 Were notderiv'd corruptly ! atid that clear honour 
 Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer'! 
 How many then should cover, that stand bare ? 
 How many be conmiauded, that command ? 
 How much law [peasantry would then be glean'd 
 From the true seed of honour? and how much 
 
 honour 
 Pick'd from tlie < hatfand niin of the times, 
 Tq be new varnish'd ? Well, but to my choice : 
 TVho chooseth me, shall fjet as much as fw deserves. 
 I will assinue desert : — Oive me the key for this. 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [there. 
 
 Por. Too long a i)ause for that, which you find 
 
 Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
 Presentintr me a schedule? I will read it. 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia? 
 How miicli unlike my hopes, and my descrvings? 
 Who c/iovseth me, shdll have as much (is he de- 
 serves. 
 Did 1 deserve no more than a fool's head? 
 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 
 
 Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices. 
 And of opposed natures. 
 
 A r. What is here ? 
 
 The fire seven times tried this ; 
 Seveti times tried that jud(iment is, 
 That did never choose amiss : 
 Some there he, that shaUoivs liss ; 
 Such have but a shadow's bliss : 
 There befools alive, I icis, 
 Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 
 Take lohai wife you will to bed, 
 I ivill ever be your head : 
 So begone, sir, you are sped. 
 
 Still more frtol I shall appear 
 
 By the time I linger here : 
 
 W ith one fool's head I came to woo. 
 
 But I go away with two. — 
 
 Sweet, adieu ! I'll keep my oath. 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train. 
 Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. 
 O these deliberate ibols! when they do choose. 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ; — 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 E7iter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady ? 
 
 Por. Here ; what would my lord ? 
 
 Ser7j. Madam, theie is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one, that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord : 
 From whoni he bringeth sensible regreets; 
 To wit, besides commends, and courteous breath. 
 Gifts of rich value ; yet I have not seen 
 So likely an ambassador of love ; 
 A day in April never came so sweet, 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fiire-spurrer comes befdre his lord. 
 
 Por. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard. 
 Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee. 
 
 Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. 
 Come, come, Nerissa ; far 1 lung to .^ee 
 Quirk Cupid's post, that comes so mannerly. 
 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if tliy will it be ! 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Scene I. — Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Salanio and Salauino. 
 
 Sahni. N<iw, what news on the Kialto? 
 
 Sahir. Why, yet it liies there uncherk'd, tha 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the 
 narrow seas; the Goodwins, 1 think they call the 
 ]dace ; a \ery dangerous flat, and fatal, where the 
 carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, 
 if my gossip report be an honest woman of her word. 
 
 Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, 
 as ever knapp'd ginaer, or made her neighbours 
 believe she wept for the death of a third husband: 
 but it is true, — without any slips of prolixity, or 
 crossing the plain high-way of talk, — that the good 
 
 Antonio, the honest Antonio, O that 1 had a title 
 
 good enough to keep his name company ! — 
 
 Salar. Come, the full stop. 
 
 Salan. Ha, — what say'st thon? — Why, the end 
 is, he hath lost a ship. 
 
 Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses! 
 
 Salan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the deviS 
 cross my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness 
 of a Jew. — 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Kow now, Shylock? what news among the mer- 
 
 cliants ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as 
 you, of my daughter's flight, 
 
 Salar. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the 
 tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 
 
 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the 
 bird was fledg'd ; and then it is the complexion ol 
 them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Shy. She is damn'd for it 
 
 iSo/or. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 
 
 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 
 
 Salan. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at 
 these years ? 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh 
 and hers, than between jet and ivory ; more between 
 your bloods, than there is between red wine and 
 rhenish : — But tell us, do yoji hear whether Antonio 
 haxe had any loss at sea or no? 
 
 Shy. There I have another bad match: a bank- 
 rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on 
 (he Rialto ; — a beggar, that u ed to come so smug 
 upon the mart; — let him hwk to his bond" he was 
 wont to call me usurer; — let him look to his bond: 
 he was wont to lend money for a Christian ci)nrte«j ; 
 — let him look to his bond. 
 
 Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
 take his flesh : What's that good for ? 
 
 Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing: 
 else, it will feed my revenge. He lialh disgr;i( ed me, 
 and hindered me of half a million: launhtd at tiiy 
 losses, mucked at my gains, scorned my nation. 
 thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated 
 mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a .Ie« : 
 Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hand.s. organs, 
 dimensions, .senses, aflections, |)assions? fed \»ith 
 the same food, hurt with the same weajjons, subject 
 to the same diseases, healed by the same mrans, 
 warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer^, 
 as a Christian is? if you prick us, do we not bleed • 
 if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, 
 do we not die? and if you wrong us, sIihII we not 
 revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will re- 
 semble you in that. li a Jew wrong a Christian, 
 what is his humility ? reven^'e. If a Christian wrong 
 a Jew, what should his sufl'erance be by Cliristiao 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 157 
 
 example ? why, revenpe. The villaiuy, yoii teach 
 me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will 
 better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
 house, and desires to sjieak with you both. 
 
 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salan. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn 
 Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. 
 
 Shy. How now. Tubal, what news from Genoa ? 
 hast thou found my dauf;liter ? 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but 
 cannot find her. 
 
 S/iy. Why tiiere, there, there, there ! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort I 
 The curse never fell u|)on our nation till now; I 
 never felt it till now : — two thousand ducats in tiiat ; 
 and other precious, precious jewels. — I would my 
 dau{,rhter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in 
 her ear! 'would she were hears'd at my t'oot. and 
 the ducats in her cotfin ! No news of tlieui ? — Why, 
 so: — and I know not what's spent in the search: 
 Why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone with so 
 much, and so much to find the thief; and no satis- 
 faction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirrinsr, but 
 what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs, but o' my 
 breathing ; no tears, but o' my shedding. 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; Antonio, 
 as I heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 
 
 Tub. — hath an argosy cast away, coming from 
 Tripolis. [it true ? 
 
 Shy. I thank God, 1 thank God:— Is it true? is 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of tiie sailors that es- 
 caped the wreck. 
 
 Shy. I,tliank thee, good Tubal; — Good news, 
 good news : ha ! ha ! — Where ? in Genoa. 
 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, 
 one night, fourscore ducats ! 
 
 Shy, Thou stick'st a dagojer in me : 1 shall 
 
 never see my gold again : Fourscore ducats at a 
 sitting I fourscore ducats ! 
 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 
 my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose 
 but break. 
 
 Shy. I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll 
 tortiue him ; I am glad of it. 
 
 Ttib. One of them showed me a ring, that he had 
 <.'f your daughter for a monkey. 
 
 Shy. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : 
 it was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah, when I was 
 a bachelor: 1 would not have given it for a wilder- 
 ness ot nioiikeys. 
 
 Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true : Go, 
 Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a fortnight 
 before; I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit: 
 tor were he out of Venice, I can make what mer- 
 chandize I will : Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our 
 synagogue ; go, good Tubal, at our synagogue. 
 Tubal [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Belmont. A Re --m in Portia's House. 
 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, 
 and Attendants. The caskets are set out. 
 Par. 1 pray yon, tarry ; pause a day or two. 
 Before you hazard : (or, in choosing wrong, 
 I lose your company ; therefore, forbear a while : 
 There's something tells me, (but it is not love,) 
 I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
 I Lite routisels not in such a quality: 
 lint lest you should not understand me well, 
 I Vii'l yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,) 
 I vvi ulfl detain you here some month or two, 
 IJclore you venture for me. I could teach you 
 • low to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
 
 So will I never be : so may you miss me : 
 
 But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
 
 That I liad been forsworn. Beshrewyour eyes. 
 
 They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me; 
 
 One half of me is yours, tlie other half yours,— 
 
 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours. 
 
 And so all yours: O! these naughty times 
 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ; 
 
 And so, though yours, not yours. — Prove it so, 
 
 Let fortune go to hell for it, — not I. 
 
 I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time ; 
 
 To eke it, and to draw it out in length. 
 
 To stay you from election. 
 
 liass. Let me choose : 
 
 For as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 
 Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 
 Bass. None, but that ugly treason of mistrust. 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of rny love. 
 I'here may as well be amity and lil'e 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Por. Ay, but I fear, you speak upon the rack, 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 
 Bass. Promise my life, and I'll confess the truth. 
 
 Por. Well then, confess, and li\e. 
 
 Bass. Confess, and love. 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession : 
 
 happy tormeiit, when my torturer 
 i)otli teach me answers for deliverance! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Por. .\\vay then : I am lock'd in one of them ; 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. — 
 Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof — 
 Let music sound, while he doth make his choice ; 
 'I'hen if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream. 
 And wat'ry death-bed for him : He may win ; 
 And what is music then? then music is 
 Even as the flourish, when true subjects bow 
 To a new-crowned monarch; such it is. 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
 'i'hat creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear. 
 And summon him to marriage. Now he goes. 
 With no less presence, but with much more love. 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 'J'o the sea-monster : I stand lor sacrifice. 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 
 With bleared visages, come (brth to view 
 The issue of tiie exploit. Go, Hercules I 
 Live thou, I live: — With nuicli much more dismay 
 
 1 view the fight, than thou that makest the fray. 
 
 Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets 
 to himself. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. Tell me, where is fancy bred. 
 Or in the heart, or in tJie head? 
 How beyot, how nourished/ 
 
 Reply. 
 
 2. It is etiijender'd in the eyes, 
 fVith gazing fed; and fancy dies 
 In the cradle where it lies : 
 
 Let vs all riiKj fancy's knell ; 
 
 III begin it, Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 All. Ding, dung, bell. 
 
 Bass. — So may the outward shows be least 
 themselves ; 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so fainted and corrupt. 
 But, being season'd with a gracious voice,. 
 Obscures the show of evil '•' In religion. 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 ^>ome mark of \irtiie on. his outward parts. 
 
158 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 How many cow.ircfs, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet u[)oii tlieir chins 
 The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars; 
 Who, inward searcii'd, have livers white as milk? 
 And tliese assume but valour's excrement, 
 To render tlieni redoubted. Look on beauty, 
 And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by tlie weiglit; 
 Whicli therein works a miracle in nature, 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it: 
 So are those crisped snaky golden locks, 
 Which make sucli wanton gambols with the wind. 
 Upon supposed fairuess, often known 
 To be the dovvry of a second head. 
 The scull that bied tiiem, in the sepulchre. 
 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
 To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word. 
 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold. 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee : 
 Nor none of tliee, thou pale and common drudge 
 'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead. 
 Which rather threat'nest, than dost promise aught. 
 Thy plainness moves me more tlian eloquence. 
 And here choose I: Joy be tiie consequence! 
 Por. How all the other passions tleet to air. 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, 
 And shudd'ring fear, and gieen-ey'd jealousy. 
 
 love, he moderate, allay tiiy ecstasy, , 
 In measure rain tiiy joy, scant (his excess : 
 
 1 feel too much tiiy blessing, make it less. 
 For fear I surfeit ! 
 
 Bass. What find I here ? 
 
 COpeniiuj the leaden casket.) 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit? Whatdemigod 
 Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
 Or whether,ridingon the balls of mine, 
 Seem they in motion i" Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar 
 Shouhl sunder such sweet friends : Here in her haira 
 The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men. 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
 Methinks, it should have power to steal both his. 
 And leave itself unfurnislrd : Yet look, how far 
 'I'he substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow, 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. — Here's the scroll. 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 
 
 You that choose not by the vieiv, 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true ! 
 Since this fortune falls to you, 
 ;Be cont<int, and seek no new. 
 ■If you be ivellpleas'd tvith this. 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
 Turn you where your lady is. 
 And claim Iter mith a loving kiss. 
 
 A gentle scroll ; — Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 
 (Kissing her.J 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 
 Like one of two contending in a prize. 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes. 
 Hearing applause, and universal shout, 
 Giddy m spirit, still gazing, in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
 So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true. 
 Until confirm 'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 
 Pro. You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand. 
 Such as I am : though, for myself alone, 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
 To wish myself much better ; yet, for you, 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 More rich : 
 
 Tliat only to stand high on your account, 
 I might in nrtues, beauties) livings, friends. 
 Exceed account : but the full sum of me 
 
 Is sum of something; which, to tei-nn m gross. 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, nnpractis'd : 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; and happier than this. 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself, and what is mine, to you and y<iurs 
 Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
 T'his house, tiiese ser\ants, and this same myself. 
 Are yours, my lord ; I give them witii this ring ; 
 Which wheu you part from, lose, or give away. 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to you in my veins • 
 And there is such confusion in my powers, 
 As, after some oration (airly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 Among the buzzing pleased nmltitude; 
 Where every sometiiing, being blent together. 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Hxpress'd, and not express'd : But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life fiom hence; 
 O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead. 
 
 iVer. My lord and lady, it is now our time. 
 That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper. 
 To cry, good joy : Oood joy, my lord and lady! 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady, 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For 1 am sure, you can wish none from me : 
 And, when your honours mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, 1 do beseech you. 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bass. Witii all my heart, so thou canst get a wife 
 
 Gra. I thank your lordship; yon ha\e got me one- 
 My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yoijrs : 
 You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
 You lov'd, I lov'd ; for intermission 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upo:i the caskets there ; 
 And so did mine too, as the matter falls : 
 For wooing here, until I sweat again; 
 And swearing, till my very roof was dry 
 With oaths of love ; at last, — if promise last,— 
 I got a promise of this fair one here. 
 To have her love, provided that your fortune 
 Achiev'd her mistress. 
 
 Por. Is this true, Nerissa? 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 
 
 Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? 
 
 Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. [marriage. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your 
 
 Gra. We'll play with them, the first boy for a 
 thousand ducats. 
 
 Ner. What, and stake down ? 
 
 Gra. No ; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and 
 
 stake down. 
 
 But who comes here ? Lorenzo, and his infidel ? 
 What, my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio. 
 
 Bass. Lorenzo, and Salerio, welcome hither; 
 If that the youth of my new interest here 
 Have power to bid you welcome : By your leave, 
 I bid my very friends and countrymen. 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 
 Por. So do I, my lord ; 
 
 They are entirely welcome. [lord, 
 
 Lor. I thank your honour:— For my part, my 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way. 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay. 
 To come with him along. 
 
 Sale. I did, my lord. 
 
 And I have reason for it. Siguior Antonio 
 Commends him to you. CGives Bassrrnio a letter.) 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 159 
 
 Bast. Kre I ope his letter, 
 
 I piny yon tell me Iiow my nood friend dotli. 
 
 Sa/e. Not sirk, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
 Nor well, unless in mind : liis letter tliere 
 W iil sliow you his est;ite. [come. — 
 
 (ira. Nerissa. clieer yon' stranger; bid her wel- 
 \'onr hand, Salerio; Wlial's the news from Venice ":' 
 How (l')(li that royal niercliant, good Antonio '! 
 I know, he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasnns, we have won the fleece. 
 
 Sn/e. 'Would you had won the (leece that he hath 
 lost I [same paper, 
 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon' 
 That steal the colour from IJassanio's cheek: 
 .Some dear friend ilead ; else nothing in the world 
 Coiihl turn so nmcli the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ? — 
 With leave, IJassanio ; I am half yourself, 
 .\nd I must fieely have the half of any thing 
 'I'hat this same paper brings yoa. 
 
 Bass. O, sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the nnpleasant'st words, 
 That ever blotted paper 1 Gentle lady. 
 When { did first imjiart my love to you, 
 I freely told you. all the wealth I had 
 Kan in my veins, I was a gentlemaM ; 
 And then i told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
 Rating myself at n(jtliing, you shall see 
 How much I was a bragg.'rt : when I told you 
 .My estate was notiiing, I sliould then have told you 
 'I'hat I was worse tiian nothing; (or, indeed, 
 I have enf,Ti^'<l myself to a dear friemi, 
 lingag'd my friend to his mere enemy. 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 
 The pa()er as the body of my friend. 
 .And every word in it a saping wound. 
 Issuing lite-blood. — Mut is it true, .Salcrlo? 
 Havea!l his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit? 
 !Vom Tripolis, fnmi .Mexico, and I'^ngland, 
 From Lisbon, IJarbiry, and India :* 
 -And nut one vessel "scape the dreadful touch 
 Ol Mierehanl-marring rocks i 
 
 S/ilf. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Hi'sidfs, it should appear, that if he bad 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He would not take it: never did I know 
 A creature, that ilid bear the shape of man, 
 So keen and greedy to con oniid a man : 
 He jilies the duke at morning, and at night; 
 -And doth impeach the fret doiii of the stale, 
 If they deny biin justice: twenty merchants. 
 The duke himself, and the inaguilicoes 
 Ol greatest port, have all persuade<l with liiin; 
 But none can drive bin» Irom the envious plea 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his boiul. 
 
 Jes.W lien I was with him, I have beard him swear, 
 To Tubal, and to Chus, bis countrymen, 
 lliat he would rather have .Antomo'.s (lesh. 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
 If law, authority, and power deny not. 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Por. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in trouble ? 
 Boss. The dearest frieud to me. the kindest man. 
 The best condition'd and unwearied .spirit 
 In doing courtesies ; and one, in wliota 
 The ancient Uoman honour more appears, 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? 
 Bass. For me, three tliuusand ducats. 
 Por, What,nomore? 
 
 Fay him si.x thousand, and deface the bond; 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that. 
 Before a frienti of this description 
 Shall lose a harr through Bassanio's fault. 
 First, go with me to church, and call me wife : 
 And then away to V^enice to your friend ; 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an inquict soul. V ou shall ha\ e gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over ; 
 
 When it is paid, bring your true friend along: 
 My maid Neiissa, and myself, mean time, 
 W ill live as maids and widows. Come, away 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 
 Bid your friends welcome, sliovv a nieriy cheer; 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 
 
 Bass. (Reads.) Sweet Bassanio, my ships hav(> 
 all miscarried, ituj creditors yroiv cruet, viy estati 
 is very low, vty bund to tlie Jew is forfeit ; an J 
 siyice, in pf/yiny it, it is impossible I should live, 
 all debts are cleared betweeyi yuic and I, if I miijht 
 but see you at my death: twtwithstamliny, use 
 your pleasure : if your love do not persuade you 
 to come, let not my letter. 
 
 Por. O love, despatch all busines.s, and be gone 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 I will make haste : but, til! 1 coine again. 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
 
 No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeitnt 
 
 Scene 111.— Venice. A Street. 
 Enter SiiYLOCK, Salanio, Antonio. and Gaoler. 
 
 Shy. Gaoler, look to him ; tell not me of mercy ;— 
 This IS the fool that lent out money gratis ; — 
 Gaolei-, look to him. 
 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Shy. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my 
 bond ; 
 I have svvorn i»n oath, that I will have my bond: 
 Thou calldst me dog, before thou liad'st a cause : 
 But, since I am a dog, beware my tangs: 
 The duke shall grant me justice. — I do wonder, 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
 To come abroad with him at his recjuest. 
 
 Ant. I I ray thee, hear me speak. [speak: 
 
 Shy. I'll have my bond; I will not lieai lliee 
 I'll have my bond; and thereli:)re speak no more. 
 I'll not be made a. soft and dull-ey'd fool. 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 'I'o Christian intercessors. Follow not; 
 ril have no s))eaking; I will have my bond. [Exit^ 
 
 Salan. It istiie most impenetrable cur. 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant. Let him alone ; 
 
 I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
 He seeks my life ; iiis reason well I know; 
 I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
 Many, that have at times made uioan io ine; 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Salan. I am sure, the duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Ant. The duke cannot deny the conrse of law 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice, if it be denied. 
 Will much impeach the justice of the state ; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: 
 These griefs and losses have, so 'bated me. 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 
 Well, gaoler, on: — Pray Gcd, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, an(' then I care not ! 
 
 {Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 
 Enter PoRTi.\, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessjca, and 
 Balthazar. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence 
 Yon ha^e a noble and a true conceit 
 Of godlike amity ; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
 But, if you knew to whom you show this honour 
 Ilow true a gentleman you send relief. 
 How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
 I know, yon would be prouder of the work*. 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 
 Por. 1 never did repent for doing good» 
 Nor shall not now : for in companions' 
 That do converse and waste the time togetP)er> 
 
160 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 V\1ii)se souls do bear an eqnal yoke of love. 
 
 There must be needs ;i like proportion 
 
 Of lineaments, of timnners, and of'spirit; 
 
 VV'liicli initkes ine think, that this Antonio. 
 
 Heiiig the bosom lo\er of my lord^ 
 
 JVli'.st needs be like my lord : if it be so, 
 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd, 
 
 In purchasing this semblance of my soul 
 
 From out the state of hellish cruelty ? 
 
 This comes too near the praising of myself; 
 
 Therefore, no more of it : hear other tilings. — 
 
 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 
 The husbandry and manage of my house. 
 
 Until my lord's return : lor mine own part, 
 
 I ha\ e toward heaven breath'd a secret vow. 
 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 
 Only attended by Nerissa here, 
 
 Uritd her husband and my lord's return : 
 
 There is a monastery two miles off, 
 
 And there we will abide. I do desire you, 
 
 Not to deny this imposition ; 
 
 'J'he which my love, and some necessity. 
 
 Now lays upon yoii. 
 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart ; 
 
 I sliall obey you in all fair commands. 
 
 Pur. My people do already know my mind. 
 Anil will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 In pliice ot lord Bassanio and myself. 
 So tare you well, till we shall meet again. [you ! 
 
 Jjor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend on 
 Jess. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 Pur. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd 
 To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. — 
 
 lE.vetent Jessica and Jjorenzo. 
 Now, Balthazar, 
 
 As 1 have ever found thee honest, true, 
 So let me find thee still : take this same letter. 
 Ami use tliou all the endeavour of a man. 
 In speed to Padua ; see thou render this 
 Into my cousin's hand, doctor Bellario; [thee, 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
 VV^hicli trades to Venice : — waste no time in words, 
 But get thee gone ; { shall be there before thee. 
 Ualth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand, 
 That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands, 
 Bttiire tht-y think of us. 
 
 her. Shall they see us ? 
 
 Pur. They shall, Nerissa \ but in such a habit. 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With what we lack. I'll hold thee any wager. 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
 And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 
 And speak, between the change of man and boy, 
 With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 
 [nto a manly stride ; and speak of frays, 
 Like a hue bragging youth : and tell quaint lies, 
 How honourable ladies sought my love, 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 I could not do with all:— then I'll repent. 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them : 
 And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell. 
 That men siiall swear, I have discontinued school 
 Above a twelvemonth: — I have within my mind 
 Atli'iusand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 Which 1 will practise. 
 
 ATer. Why, shall we turn to men? 
 
 Por. Fy ! what a question's that, 
 (f thou wert near a It-wd interpreter? 
 But come, I'll tell the*- all my whole device, 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for ns 
 At the park gate ; iind therefore haste away. 
 For we must measun- twt nty milts to-day. [Exeunt. 
 Scene V. — The same. A Garden. 
 Enter Lalncki.ot rtwc? Jessica. 
 Laun. \ts, truly : — lor, look you, the sins of the 
 
 father are to be laid npon the children ; therefore, 
 I promise you, I fear you. 1 was always plain with 
 you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: 
 therefore, be of good cheer; for, truly, 1 tliink, 
 you are damned. There is but one hope in it that 
 can do any good ; and that is but a kind of bastard 
 hope neither. 
 
 Jess. And what hope is that, I pray thee'? 
 
 Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your 
 father got you not, that you are not the Jew's 
 dauuhter. 
 
 Jess. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed; 
 so the sins of my mother should lie visited upon me. 
 
 Laun. Truly then I fear you are (lainned bolh by 
 father and mother: thus when i shun ScjUa.your 
 father, I fall into Charybdis, your nuither: well, 
 you are gone both ways. 
 
 Jess. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath 
 made me a Christian. 
 
 Laun. 'i'lnly, the more to blame he: we were 
 Christians enough befnre ; e'en as many as could 
 well live, one by another: this making of (/liris- 
 tians will raise the price of hogs : if we grow all to 
 be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a- rasher 
 on the coals for money. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Jess. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what jx)U 
 .say ; here he conies. , 
 
 Lor. 1 shall grow jealous of you siiortly, Laun- 
 celot, if you thus get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jess. Nay, you need not fear us, Ijorenzo : Laun- 
 celot and I are out : he tells me llatly, there is nc 
 mercy for me in heaven, because 1 am a Jew's 
 daughter : and he says, you are no good member 
 of the commonwealth ; for, in converting Jews to 
 Christians, you raise the price of pork. 
 
 Lor. I shall answer that better to the common- 
 wealth than you can the getting up of the negro's 
 belly ; the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. It is much, that the Aloor should be more 
 than reason : but if she be less than an honest wo- 
 man, she is, indeed, more than I took her tor. 
 
 Lur. How every fool can play upon the word ' 
 I think, the best grace of wit will siiortly turn into 
 silence; and discourse grow commendable in none 
 only but parrots. — Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare 
 tor dinner. 
 Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomacli.s. 
 Lor. Goodly lord, what a wit-snapper are you I 
 then bid them prepare dinner. (word 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir; only, cover is th« 
 Lor. Will you cover them, sir '. 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. 
 Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion I Wilt 
 thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? 
 I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain 
 meaning: go to thy fellows; bid them cover the 
 table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to 
 dinner. 
 
 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; 
 for the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your 
 coining to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and 
 conceits shall govern. [Exit 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
 The fool hath planted in liis memory 
 An army of good words: and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica? 
 And now, good sweet, say thy opinion. 
 How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife? 
 
 Jes. Past all expressing: it is very meet. 
 The lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady. 
 He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; 
 And, if on earth he do not mean it, it 
 Is reason he should never come to heaven. 
 VVhy,if two gods should play some iieaveniy match. 
 And on the wa^er lay two earthly women. 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 IGl 
 
 And I'ortia one, there must be soiiietliiiig else 
 Pa\vn"(i with tlie other; for the poor mile world 
 M;ith not lier fellow. 
 
 Ijur. Even such <\ iiusband 
 
 Hast thoi of uie, as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jes. Nriy. i)ut ask my opiuiou loo of that. 
 
 Lur. I will anon; first, let us i;o to tliiiiier. 
 
 Je.s. Nay, letine praise you, while 1 have ast.iinarl!. 
 
 Lur. No, |Jiay tliee, let it ser\e for iable-talk. : 
 Then, hnws.ie'er thou speuk'st, 'nionjj other things 
 I shall diijest it. 
 
 Jes. Well, Ml set you forth. [ExzH.it. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Venice. A Court of Justice. 
 
 Enter the DuKE. the Maijnijlcoi-s : Antonio, Bas. 
 SANio, Gkatiano, Salakino, Salamo, and 
 others. 
 
 J)uhe. What, is Antonio here? 
 
 A)il. Heady, so please your sriice. [answer 
 
 Duke. 1 am sorry for thee ; tiiou art come to 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uiicapable of pity, \oid and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Ant. I iiave heard, 
 
 Vour <crare hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 His ri;;orous course , but since he stands obdurate. 
 .And tliat no lawful means can carry ine 
 Out of his envy's reach; I do oppose 
 Aly patience to his fuiy ; and am arm'd 
 'I'o siller, with a q lirtness of spirit, 
 'I'lie \eiy tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Puke. Uo one, and call the Jew into the court. 
 
 SaUin. He's ready it the door : he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Dulce. Make room, and let him stand before our 
 face.-^ 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so t >o, 
 'i'liat thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the hist hour of act; and then, 'tis thougl-.t, 
 'i'hou'lt show thy mercy, and remorse, more st;an_L;c 
 'i'haii is thy strange apparent cruelty : 
 And where thou now exacfst the penalty, 
 (Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesli ) 
 Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, 
 Hut, touch'd with iiiiman gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the principal; 
 (ilaiicing an eye of pity on his losses. 
 That have of late so huddled on his back; 
 linoiigh to press a royal merchant down. 
 And pluck commiseration of his state 
 From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint. 
 From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd 
 To olFices oi' tender courtesj'. 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. fpose ; 
 
 Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what 1 pur- 
 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn. 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
 You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
 .4 weight of carriot) flesh, than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that : 
 But, say. It is my humour : is it answer'd ? 
 What il iny house be troubled with a rat, 
 -And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it baned'f' What, are you aTisj.;er'd yet'? 
 Some men there are, love not a gajiing pig ; 
 Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat ; 
 And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose. 
 Cannot contain their urine ; tor affection, 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
 Of what it hkes, or loathes. Now, lor your answer ; 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 
 Whv he. a narmless necessary cat ; 
 Wby tie, a swollen bagpipe ; but of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame. 
 
 As to offend, himself being offeniled ; 
 
 So can I give no reason, nor 1 will not, 
 
 More than a lodged iiale, and a certain loathing, 
 
 1 bear Antonio, that 1 follow thus 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 
 
 Bass, 'i'his is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. (answer. 
 
 Shtj. I am not bound to please thee with my 
 
 Bass. Do all men kill the things, they do not lovo '^ 
 
 Shy. Hates any man the thing, he would not l.iil ';' 
 
 Bass. Every offence is not a hate at lirst. 
 
 Shy. What, would'st thou have a serpent sting 
 thee Iw ice i 
 
 Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 
 Vou may as weil go stand upon the beach. 
 And bid the main flood bate his usual heiulit; 
 Vou ni^y as well use question witii the wolf. 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat lor the lamb; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 VVheu they are fretted with the gusts of heaven , 
 You may as well do any thing most hard, 
 As seek to soften that (than which wliats harder?) 
 His Jewish heart: — Therefore, 1 do beseech you. 
 Make no more offers, use no farther means. 
 But, with ;ill brief and plain conveniency. 
 Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy tliree thousand ducats here is si^. 
 
 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
 I would not draw them, I would have my bond. _ 
 
 Dulce. Howshalt thon hope for mercy, rend'riug 
 none? [wrong'? 
 
 Shy. What judgment sliall I dread, doing no 
 You have among you nuiny a purchas'd slave, 
 Wliich, like your asses, and your dogs, and 'nMles, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts. 
 Because you bought them :— Shall I say to you , 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs :" 
 Why sweat they under burdens? let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let tiieir palates 
 Be season'd with such viands? You will answer. 
 The slaves are ours:— So do 1 answer you; 
 The pound of flesh, which 1 demand of him. 
 Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it: 
 If yon deny lue, iy upon your la\y ! 
 There is no force i.) the decrees of Venice : 
 I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it? 
 
 Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss this court. 
 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor. 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
 Come here to day. 
 
 Salar. iMy lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor. 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters; C:ill the messenger. 
 
 Bass. (Jood cheer, Antonio! What, man? coil- 
 rage yet ! 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all. 
 Ere thou siialt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 
 Ant. I am a tainted wether of l.he flock, 
 Meetesl for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ground, and^so let me: 
 You cannot better be employ 'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, end write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter Nekissa, dressed like a lawyers clerk 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, fioiu Bellario .' 
 Ner. From both, my lord : Br-llario gittts vom 
 prace. [Presents n letter.) 
 
 Bass. Why dost thou whet tliy knife so earncitlv ? 
 Shy. To cut the forfeiture tio'ii that b ii.kr.i(/t 
 there. (J cm, 
 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, haisi 
 Thou inakest tiiy knife keen : but no metal can. 
 No, not the hangman's a\e, bea half tlie keenness 
 Ol'thy sharp envy. Can no prajirs pierce thee ? 
 Shy. No, none that thou hast witt-uough to m^ike. 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
 And lor thy life let justice be accus'd. 
 
 I 
 
162 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act IY. 
 
 Thou almost mak'st me waver in tny faith, 
 
 To iiold opinion with Pytiiogoras, 
 
 'I'hat souls of aniiniils iuHise ti>einselve.s 
 
 Into tiie trunks of men : tliy currish sjjiiit 
 
 (iovern'd a wolf, who, h.int^'d for human siauj^hter. 
 
 Even from tlie gallows did Ins fell soid lleet. 
 
 And, whilst lliou lay'st in tliy nnhaliow'd dam, 
 
 Infus'd itself in thee; fur tliy desires 
 
 Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 
 
 Sliij. Till thou can'st rail tlie seal from otf my bond, 
 Thou but olfend'st thy limgs to speak so loud : 
 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
 To cureless ruin. — I stand here for law. 
 
 Uuke. This letter from Bellario dotli commend 
 A young and learned doctor to our court : — 
 where is he ? 
 
 Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
 
 I'd know your answer, wliether you'll admit hini. 
 
 Duke. With all my heart: — some three or four 
 of yon, 
 Gil give him court'^ous conduct to this place. — 
 IMeantlme, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 
 
 (Clerk reads.) Your cjrace shall understand, that, 
 at the 7-eceij)t of your letter. I am very sick : but 
 ill the Instant that your messenyer came, in loviny 
 visitation was with me a youny doctor of Home, 
 his name is Balthasar : I acquainted liim ivith 
 the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
 Antonio themercliant : ive turned o'er many books 
 toyether : he is furnish' d with my ojnnion ; which, 
 better'd ivith his own iearniny, { the yreatness 
 tvhereof I cannot enouyh commend.) comes Kith 
 him, at my importunity, to Jill up your grace's 
 request in my stead. I beseech you. let his lack 
 of years be no impediment to let him lack a 
 reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young 
 a bo iy with so old a head. I leave him to your 
 yracious acceptance, ivhose trial shall better 
 publish his commendation. 
 
 Duke. Vou hear the learn'd Bellario, what he 
 writes : 
 And here, 1 take it, is the doctor come. — 
 
 Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. 
 Give me your hand : came you from old Bellario? 
 
 Por. I did, my lord. 
 / Duke. \ ou are welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are yon acquainted with the diilerence 
 That liolds this present question in the court? 
 
 Por. I am inlbrnied thoroughly of the cause. 
 Which is the merchant here, and which tiie Jew? 
 
 Duke. Antonio and old Sliylock, both stand forth. 
 
 Por. Is your name Shylock ? 
 
 Shy. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
 Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impugn you, as you do proceed.— 
 You stand within his danger, do you not? {To Ant.) 
 
 Ant. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Por. Do 5'ou confess the bond? 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 
 Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
 It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath ; it is twice bless'd : 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 The tlironed monarch better than his crown: 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
 The attribute to awe and majesty. 
 Wherein duth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway, 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 'rhough justice be thy plea, consider this,— 
 'I'hat, in the course of justice, none of us 
 Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much, 
 To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
 Which if tliou follow, tliis strict court of Venice 
 Must needs give sentence "gainst the merchant there. 
 
 Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law. 
 The penalty and forieit oi my bond. 
 
 Por. Is lie not able to discharge the money? 
 
 Bass. Yes, here I tepder it for him in the court 
 Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
 I will be bound to pay it ten tiuies o'er. 
 Oil forieit of my hands, my head, my heart: 
 If tins will not suffice, it nuist appear, 
 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,. 
 W rest once the law to your authority; 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong; 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
 
 Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree establislied : 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent; 
 And many an error, by tlie same example. 
 Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 
 
 Shy. A Daaiel come to judgment: — yea, a Da- 
 niel ! — 
 wise young judge, how do I honour thee ! 
 
 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 Por. Shylock, there's thrice tliy money offer'd 
 thee. 
 
 Shy. An oatli, an oath, I have an oath in henven 
 Shall I lay |)erjury upon my soul? 
 No, not lor Venice. 
 
 Por. Why, this bond is forfeit; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut otf 
 Nearest the merchant's heait : — Be merciful ; 
 Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shy. When it is paid according to tlie tenour. — 
 It dolh appear, you are a worthy judge; 
 You know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
 W hereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
 Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear. 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter nie : I stay here en my bond. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseecii the court 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 Por. Why then, thus it is. 
 
 You nnist prepare your bosom for his knile : 
 
 Shy. O noble judge ! O excellent young man ' 
 
 Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty. 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge ! 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 
 
 Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. Ay, his breast : 
 
 So says the bond ; — Doth it not, noble judge? — 
 Nearest his heart, those are the very words. 
 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh 
 The flesh? 
 
 Shy. I have them ready. [charge, 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on youi 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
 
 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
 
 Por. It is not so express'd ; but what of that ? 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 
 
 Por. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
 
 Ant. Bu^llttle ; I am arm'd,and well prepar'd.— 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio; fare you well ! 
 Grieve not, that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 For herein fortune shews herself more kind 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use. 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealtli. 
 To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brov^. 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 Of such a misery doth she cut me oil". 
 Commend me to your honourable wile : 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 163 
 
 any, how [ lov'd yon ; speak me f;iir in death; 
 A nil, WiiCii the tale is told, bid her be judge, . 
 Wh.etiier Uassauiu had not once a love. 
 llepeut not yoii, that yoii shall lose your friend, 
 And lie re[)ents not that he pays your debt; 
 For, it" the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
 I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bass. Antonio, 1 am married to a wife, 
 VVliich is as dear to me as life itself; 
 lint life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
 I wonid lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here fo this devil, to deliver you. [that, 
 
 Por. Your wile would give you little thanks lor 
 If she were by, to hear you make tiie oiler. 
 
 Qra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love; 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 Entreat some povver to change this currisli Jew. 
 
 Ner'. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back; 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 
 S/ii/. 'J'hese be tlie Christian husbands : I have a 
 daughter; 
 Would any oi the stock of Barabbas 
 Had been her husband, rather than a Christian ! 
 
 (Aside.) 
 We trifle time ; I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 
 Por. A pound of tiiat same merchant'.s flesh is 
 thine ; 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 
 67«y. Most rightful judge ! [breast ; 
 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from olf his 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 
 Ski/. Most learned judge I — A sentence; come, 
 prepare. 
 
 Por. Tarry a little ; — there is something else. — 
 'I'll is bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
 The words expressly are, a pound of flesh : 
 'I'ake then thy bond, tiike thou thy pound of tlesli ; 
 But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 Are, by tiie laws of Venice, conliscate 
 Unto the state of Venice. [judge! 
 
 Gra. O upright judge ! Mark, Jew; — O learned 
 
 Shi/. Is that the law ? 
 
 Por. Thyself slialt see the act: 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd. 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st. 
 
 Gra. O learned judge 1 — Mark, Jew; — a learned 
 judge ! 
 
 S/i//. I take this offer then; — pay the bond thrice. 
 And let the Christiau go. 
 
 Bass. Here is the money. 
 
 Pur. Soft; 
 The Jew shall have all justice ;— soft I — no haste ; — 
 He shall have nothing bat the penally. 
 
 Grn. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! 
 
 Pur. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less, nor more. 
 But just a pound of flesh: if thou takst more. 
 Or less, than a just pound, — be it but so much 
 As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance, 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in the estimation of a hair, — 
 riioii diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew 1 
 Now, inlidel, I have thee on the hip. 
 . Pttr. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. 
 
 Shi/. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
 
 hass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 
 
 Por. He hath refus'd it in the open court; 
 He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 
 
 Gra. A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel ! — 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 
 Shy. Shall 1 not have barely my principal? 
 
 Por. Thou shall h-ave nothing but the forfeiture 
 To be so taken at tliy peril, Jew. 
 
 Sky. Why then the devil give him good of it! 
 
 1 II Slav no loiiL^er iiupstinn. 
 
 Stay no longer question. 
 
 Fcr. 
 
 Tarry, Jew ; 
 
 The law hath yet another ha'd on yoa. 
 
 It is enacted iu the laws of Venice, — 
 
 It' it be prov'd against an alien, 
 
 That by direct, or indirect, attempts. 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen. 
 
 The party, 'gainst the vv hich lie doth contrive. 
 
 Shall seize oii half his goods: the olher half 
 
 Comes to the privy colfer of the state ; 
 
 And the olfender's life iies in the mercy 
 
 Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st : 
 
 For it appears by mauilest jiroceeding. 
 
 That, indirectly, and directly too, ^ 
 
 'J'hou hast contriv'd against the very lifo 
 
 Of tlie defendant; and itiou hast incurr'd 
 
 The danger tbrmerly by me reliears'd. 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the dnke. 
 
 Gra. Beg, that thou may'st have leave to i\asg 
 thyself: 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,* 
 Thou hast nut left the value of a cord; 
 'J'herefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 
 
 Vide. Tnat thou shalt see tiie difference of dur 
 I pardon thee thy life belore thou ask it: [spirit. 
 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
 The otiier half comes to the general state, 
 NVhich humbleness may drive unto a flue. 
 
 Por. Ay, for the state ; not for Aiitcaiio. 
 
 Ski/. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that ; 
 You take my house, when you do take the prop 
 That doth sustain my house; you lake my life. 
 When you do take the means whereby 1 live. 
 
 Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 
 
 (y/-rt. Ahaltergratis; nothing else, fiu" Ouds sake. 
 
 Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court, 
 To quit t'le fine for oue half of his goods; 
 1 am content, so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, — to render it, 
 U|Jon his death, uato the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter : 
 Two things prov ided more, — That, for this favour. 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do re^cord a gift, 
 Here in tiie court, of all he dies possess'd. 
 Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 
 
 Duke. He shall do this ; or else 1 do recant 
 The parcloii that 1 late pronounced here. fsay? 
 
 Por. Alt thou contented, Jew? what dost thon 
 
 Skij. 1 am content. 
 
 Pur. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Sliij. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence : 
 I am not well ; .«end the deed after me. 
 And 1 will sign it. 
 
 JJii/ce. . Get thee g<ine, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening thou .shalt have two god- 
 fathers ; 
 Had I been judge, thou .shotild'st have had ten more, 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 
 
 [Exit Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 
 Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon; 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet 1 presently set forth. [not.— 
 
 Duke. 1 am sorry that your leisure serves yo 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman; 
 For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke, Magjiijicoes and train 
 
 Bass. Most worthy gentlemen, I and niy friend, 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 Of grievous | enalties ; in lieu whereol. 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 We treely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 
 Ant. And stand indebted, over and above, 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 Por. He is well paicl, that is weil satisfied ; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied. 
 And therein do account myself well paid; 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 1 pray you, know me, when we meet again; 
 I wish you well, and so 1 take uiy leave. 
 
I'.ii 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Basn. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you 
 I'urtliei- ; 
 "lake some reinembrance of us, as a tribute, 
 Not as a lee : grant me tvvo tilings, I jiray you. 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 
 For. You press me far, and tiierefore I will yield. 
 Give, nie your gloves, i II \xeiir tlieni lor your sake ; 
 And, for your \o\e, I'll take this ring fiom you: — 
 Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more ; 
 And you in lo\e shall not deny me this. 
 
 Basx. This ring, good sir, — alas, it is a trifle ; 
 [ will not shame myself to give you this. 
 
 Por. I will have nothing else but only this; 
 And now, metliinks, 1 lia\e a mind to it. [value. 
 
 Baas. There's more depends on this than on tlie 
 The dearest ring in Venice will 1 give you, 
 And find it out by proclamation; 
 Only lor this, I pray you | aidon nie. _ 
 
 Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers; 
 You taught me first to beg ; and now, metliinks, 
 You teach me bow a beggar should be ansuerd. 
 
 Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wile; 
 And, when she put it on, she made me vow. 
 That 1 should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 
 
 Por. Tiiat 'sense serves many men to save their 
 gifts. 
 An if your wife be not a mad woman, 
 And know how well I have deserv'd this ring. 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
 For giving it to ine. Well, peace be witli vou ! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and "Nerissa. 
 
 Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him ha\e the ring; 
 Let his deservings, and my love withal, 
 lie valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
 
 Bass. Go, Giatiano, run and overtake liim. 
 Give himtlie ring; and bring him, if thou can'st. 
 Unto Antonio's house : — away, make haste. 
 
 [Exit Gratiano. 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in the mijrning early will we botii 
 Fly toward Belmont: Come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Same. A Street. 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this 
 deed. 
 And let him sign it; we'll away to night. 
 And be a day before our husbands home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken : 
 My lord Bassanio, upon more advice. 
 Hath sent you here this ring ; and doth entreat 
 Your company at dinner. 
 
 Pur. That cannot be : 
 
 This ring I do accept most thankfully. 
 And so, i pray you, tell him: fiirthermore, 
 I pray you show my yoiitii old Sliylock's house. 
 
 Gra. That will 1 do. 
 
 Ner. Sir, I would speak with you . — 
 
 I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, [To Portia.) 
 VV^hich 1 did make him .swear to keep lor e\er. 
 
 Por. Tliou may'st, I warrant; we shall have 
 old sweaimg, 
 'That they did give the rings away to men; 
 liut we'll outliice them, and outswear them too. 
 Away, make haste; thou knuw'st where 1 will tarry. 
 
 Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
 liouse i [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. 
 Enter Lorenzo ano? Jkssica. 
 Lor. The moon siimes bright : — In such a night 
 as this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees. 
 Ami they did make no nuis*- ; in such a night, 
 Troilus, methiuks, mounted the Trojan w'aIIs, 
 
 And sigli'd his soul toward the Grecian tents. 
 Where Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In snch a night. 
 
 Did i'hisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew; 
 And .saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lor. In such a night. 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
 Upon the wild sea banks, and wav'd her love 
 To come again to Cartilage. 
 
 Jes. In such a night, 
 
 Medea gatlier'd the enchanted herbs, 
 '1 hat did reneu' old j'Lsv>n. 
 
 Lor. In such a night. 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew; 
 And with an untlirilt love did run from Venice, 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 Jes. And in such a night, , 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well; 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
 And lie er a true one. 
 
 Lor. And in such a night 
 
 Did pretly Jessica, like a little shrew. 
 Slander her love, and lie forgave it her. 
 
 Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come : 
 But, hark, 1 hear the looting of a man. 
 
 Enter Stepiiano. 
 
 Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 
 
 Sieph. A friend. 
 
 Lor. A friend? what friend ? your name, I praj 
 you, friend i 
 
 Steph. Stephauo is my name ; and I bring word. 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Wli9 comes with her? 
 
 Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd / [him. — 
 
 Lor. He IS not, nor we have not heard from 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the liousc- 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Latin. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola I 
 
 Lor. \Vho calls? 
 
 Laun. Sola ! did you see master Lorenzo, and 
 mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 
 
 Laun. Sola! where? where? 
 
 Lor, Here. 
 
 Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my 
 master, with his horn lull of good news; my m ster 
 will be here ere morning. [Exit 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect tli< ii 
 coming. 
 And yet no matter : — Why should we go in ? 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
 VVithin the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. — 
 
 [Exit Stephano 
 How sweet the moonlight .sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night. 
 Become the touciies of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou bebold'st. 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 .Still quiiing to tlie young-ey'd cherubim : 
 .Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
 Hut, whilst this muddy vesture of decay _ 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.— 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ; 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistresb' ear 
 And draw her home with music. 
 
SCKN'E 1. 
 
 MERCPIANT OP VENICE. 
 
 105 
 
 Jes. I am nevpr merry, when I hear sweet mu- 
 sic. (Music.) 
 
 Lor. 'I'he reason is, your spirits are attentive: 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 ^)r race of yontiifnl and nnhandied colts. 
 Fetching mad hounds, bellowing, and nei<rhinglond, 
 Which is the hot condition of tUeir blood ; 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 Yon shaJl perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 'J^heir savage eyes turn'd to a modiist gaze, 
 By the sweet power of music : therefore, the ix)et 
 Did feign, that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 
 
 floods ; 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 
 But music for the time doth change his nature: 
 'I'he man that hath rni music in himself. 
 Nor is not niov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and s, oils; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 
 And his affections dark as Erebus : 
 Let no sucli man be trusted. — ISlark the music. 
 Enter Portu and Nerissa, at a distance. 
 
 Por. That light, we see, is burning in my hall. 
 How far tliat little candle throws his beams ! 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the 
 candle. 
 
 Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king. 
 Until a king be by; and then his state 
 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 
 
 Ner. It is yonr music, madam, of the house. 
 
 Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; 
 iMethinks, it sounds mucli sweeter than by day. 
 
 Ner. Silence bestows tiiat virtue on it, madam. 
 
 Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark. 
 When neither is attended ; and, I fhuik. 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
 VV hen every goose is cackling, would bethought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 Mow many things by season season'd are 
 'I'o their right praise, and tiue perfection ! — 
 Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Kndymion, 
 And would not be awak'd ! {Music ceases.) 
 
 I'or. That is the voice. 
 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. [cuckoo, 
 
 Por. He knows rae, as the blind man knows the 
 By the bad voice. 
 
 I^or. Dear lady, welcoine lume. 
 
 Por. We have been praying for our husbands' 
 welfare. 
 Which speed, we hope, the better fur our words. 
 Are they return'd ? 
 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet; 
 
 iJut there is come a messenger before. 
 To signify their coming. 
 
 .-fw-. Go in, Nerissa, 
 
 Give order to my servants, tliat they take 
 No note at all of our being absent h'eni.e • 
 Nor you, Loreiizo ; — Jessica, nor you. 
 
 [A tucket sounds.) 
 
 Lor. \ our husband is at hand, 1 hear his trumpet : 
 VVe are no tell-tales, madam ; lear you not. 
 
 Por. This night, metliinks, is but the day-lightsick. 
 It looks a little [)aler; 'tis a day, 
 Such as tlie day is when the sun is liiii. 
 
 Enter Uassanio, .AiVTonio, Grat.'ano, and their 
 
 Fdilowers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 (I you would walk in absence of the sun. 
 
 Por. Let ni" give light, but let nie not be light; 
 i'or a lii-ht wife doth make a heavy husband. 
 And UHver he B;tssani.) so f)r mt ; 
 oiit God sort all !— I'ou are welcome home, my 
 
 ., 'urd. Ifriend.— 
 
 aass. \ tliaiik you, madam : give welcome to my 
 i Uis IS tl.e Biau, this is Antonio, 
 
 To whom I am so infinitely boimd. [him- 
 
 Por. You sliould in all sense be much boimd to 
 For, as I hear, he was much hound fi>r you. 
 Ant. No more than I am well a(-quilted of 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to <mr nouse : 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 
 Therefore 1 scant this breathing courtesy. 
 
 [Gra-tiano and Nerissa seem to talk apart.) 
 Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong. 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk : 
 VVould he were gelt that hwd it, for my part, 
 Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
 
 Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter.' 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me ; whose pnsy was. 
 For all the world, like cutler's poetry 
 Ul)on a knife. Love me. and leave me not. 
 _ Ner. VYhat talk you of the posy, or the value ? 
 You swore to me when I did give it you. 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death ; 
 And that it should lie with you in yoiir grave : 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths. 
 You .sliould have been respective, and have kept it 
 Gave it a judge's clerk ! — but well I know, 
 'J'he clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it. 
 Gra. He vvill, an if he li^ e to be a man 
 Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, 1 gave it to a youth, 
 
 A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed boy. 
 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk ; 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ; 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. [yon, 
 
 ^ Por. \'ou were to blame, I must be plain with 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gilt; 
 A thing stuck on \vith oaths upon your finger. 
 And riveted so with faith unto your flesli. 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him svvear 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands • 
 I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Giatiaiio, 
 \ ou gi\e your wife too unkind a cause of grief; 
 An 'twere to me, I should lie mad at it. 
 
 Bass. Why, I were best to Ciit my left hand o'f. 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. [.iside.) 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio gave liis ring away 
 Unto the judge that beg^d it, and, indeed, 
 Deserv'd it too; and tlien the boy. his cleik, 
 'I hat took some pams in writing, he b> ggd miiie : 
 And neither man, nor master, would take aii;;l:t 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. What ring gave )-ou, my lor.l ? 
 
 Not that, T iinpe, which you receiv'd of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 I would deny it; but you see, my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. 
 
 Por. Even so void is your false heart of trutlu 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see tlie ring. 
 
 Ner. Nor I in yours, 
 
 Till 1 again see mine. 
 
 Basi,: Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to wiioni I gave the ring, 
 If you did know for whom 1 gave the ring, 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring. 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
 When naught would be accepted but the ring, 
 ^ ou would abate the strength of your disjilea'snre. 
 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of ilie ring. 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring. 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
 ^ oi would not then have parted with the ring. 
 Wliat man is there so much unreasonable. 
 It you had pleas'd to have defended it 
 VV ith any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 Vo urge tile thing held as a-ceremony ? 
 Neriss.i teaches me what to believe ; 
 I'll die f >r't hut some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bass. No, by mine hoiifiiir, madam, by my soul. 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
 
 ■•^ 
 
166 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Wnjca did refnse three thousand ducats of me. 
 
 And begg'd the ring ; llie \vhii:h I did deny him, 
 
 And snller'd liim to go displeas'd away ; 
 
 Even he that had held up the very life 
 
 Of my dear friend. What should 1 say, sweet lady ? 
 
 I was eoforc'd to send it after him ; 
 
 I was beset witli shame and courtesy ; 
 
 iMy honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it : Pardon me, good lady ; 
 
 For. by these blessed candles of the night, 
 
 Had you been there, I think, yon would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
 
 Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, 
 .And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
 ( will become as liberal as you ; 
 I'll not deny him any thing I have. 
 No, not my body, nor my husband's bed : 
 Know him 1 sliall, I am well sure of it : 
 Lie not a night from home ; watch uie like Argus : 
 If you do not, if I be left alone. 
 Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, 
 I'll have that doctor for niy bedfellow. 
 
 Ner. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advis'd, 
 How yon do leave me to mine own protection. 
 
 Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him then ; 
 For, if I do, I'll mar the yonns; clerk's pen. 
 
 Ant. I am the nnhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 
 Pur. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome, not- 
 withstanding. 
 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 
 And, in the hearing of tiiese many friends, 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own lair eyes. 
 Wherein I see myself, 
 
 Pur. Mark you but that ! 
 
 In both my eyes he doubly sees nimself : 
 In each eye .me : — swear by your double self, 
 And there's an oatii of credit. 
 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 Pardon this faidt, and by my soid I swear, 
 I never more will break an oath with tliee. 
 
 A nt. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
 Which, but for him that had yonr husband's ring, 
 
 (ToPorlia.) 
 Had quite miscarried : I dare be bonnd again, 
 iSly sold up, n tlie forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 
 Pur. Then yoti shall be his surety : give him this; 
 And bid him keep it better than the otiier. 
 
 Ant. Ht-re. lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bass. By heaven, it is the same 1 gave tne doctor! 
 
 P^r. I had it of him : parrlon me, Bassanio; 
 For by this ring tlie doctor lay with me. 
 
 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; 
 For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk. 
 In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
 What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it? 
 Pur. Speak not so grossly. — You are all amaz'd: 
 Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 
 There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor 
 Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here 
 Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you. 
 And but even now return'd ; I have not yet 
 Enter'd my house. — Antonio, you are welcome ; 
 And I have better news in store for you, 
 'Ihan you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
 There you shall find, three of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 
 Ant. I am dumb. 
 
 Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? 
 
 Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me 
 
 cuckold ? 
 Ner. Ay ; but the clerk that never means to do it. 
 Unless he live until he be a man. 
 
 Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow ; 
 When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 
 
 Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and 
 living; 
 For here I read for certain, that my ships 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Por. How now, Ijorenzo ? 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Ner. Ay, and I'll give them hinj without a iee. — • 
 There do I give to you, and Jessica, 
 From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift. 
 After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 
 
 Lur. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morning. 
 
 And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at tiill : let us go in ; 
 And charge us there upon iuter'gatories. 
 And we will answer all things laithfuliy. 
 
 Gra. Let it be so: the first iuler'gatory 
 That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is. 
 Whether till the next night she had rather stay ; 
 Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
 But were the day come, I should wish it dark, 
 That I were couching with the doctor s clerk. 
 ^Vell, while I live. III fear no other thing 
 So sure, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeuut. 
 
a 
 
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 ^ ,3 
 
 g ^ 
 
 (4 
 S5 
 O 
 H 
 CO 
 
 a 
 o 
 
 O 
 
 H 
 
rai 
 
 Of fhis nlav (he fable is wilii ami pleasing. I know not how the ladifs will approve tlie faality with which Iioth 
 Ros'iliml anri Celia give awav (iieir 1 earls. To Cel n much may be forgiven, for the liernism ofli. r fneml-hip. Hie 
 rhnrarter of Jaoiies is natural and well preserved. The comic diidogue is very sprii^hlb. with less mixture of low 
 biimroiiervtiian in some other pl^vs ; and tlie giaver part is elegant and harniv^iiious By hSstening to tlie end of 
 this worl£ Sliakspeare suppressed" tl^e dialogue between the usurper and tiie hermit, and lost an 
 ex.hibititig'a moral lessou, iu which lie miglit have found matter worthy of his highest powers. 
 
 opporl unity Oi 
 Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DUKE, Ih-irirr in exile. 
 
 FREDERICK, Brother to the Duke, and Usurper of his 
 
 JJo?niiiious. 
 AMIENS, I Lords atteniliua upon the Duke in his 
 JAQUES, ) haiiishmenl. 
 
 LE BEAU, a Cmirlier atleitdiiiy ttpun Frederick. 
 CH.\KLES, his Wrestler. 
 OLIVER, / 
 
 JAQUES, > Sons of Sir Rowland De Bois. 
 ORLANDO, S 
 ADAM, ) 
 DENNIS, i 
 
 Servants to Oliver. 
 
 TOUCHSTONE, a Clovn. 
 
 SIR OEIVEil iMAR TEXT, a Virar. 
 
 S?LV^US, \ Shepherd.. 
 
 WILLIAM, a Country F'-l/om. in love ivilh Audrey. 
 A I'rr.KO'i repri xmiiti'i llynim. 
 ROSALIND, Diiueihtrr to the bcinishtd Duke. 
 CFLIA, Dauqhtrr' 10 Freitetick 
 IHEBE. a .Shepherdess. 
 At 1 Rfc•^ o (,u>,try I<>.»,-« 
 
 Lorai ee.ohfpiuo "> ''•'' ''■''" Oi'kes; Payes, Fore.ster.% 
 and other Attendants-. 
 
 The Scene lies, first. Vfar Oliver's House ; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and part/// 
 
 in the Forest of Arden. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 NcENE I. — An Orchard, near Oliver's House. 
 
 Enter Orlando and Adam. 
 
 Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fa- 
 shion bequeathed me: By will, but a uoor thon.sand 
 crowns; and, as (hou say'st, chnrgecl my brother, 
 on liis blessing, to breed me well : and tliere begins 
 my .sadness. Aly brother Jaques he keeps at school, 
 and report speaks goldenly of his profit : for my 
 jjart, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak 
 more properly, stays me here at home unkept : liir 
 call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, 
 that differs not from the stallin;; of an ox ? His 
 horses are bred better; for, besides that they are 
 fair witit their feeding, they are taught their manage, 
 and to that end riders dearly hired : but I, his bro- 
 ther, gain nothing under hiu\ but growth ; for the 
 which his animals on liis dunghills areas nmcli bound 
 to him as I. Besides tliis nothing, that he so plenti- 
 fully gives me, the somettiing that nature gave me, 
 his countenance seems to take fiom me : he lets me 
 i'eed with Ins hinds, bars me the place of a brother, 
 and, as much as in hiin lies, mines my gentility with 
 my education. This it is, Adam, that grieves me : 
 and the spirit of my father, which I think is within 
 me, begins to nuitiuy against this .servitude : 1 will 
 no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise re- 
 medy how to avoid it. 
 
 Enter OuVER. 
 
 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 
 
 Orl. (jo apart, Adam, and thou siialt hear how 
 lie will shake me up. 
 
 on. Now, sir ! what make you here ? 
 
 Orl. Nothing : I am not tanglit to make any thing. 
 
 0/i. What mar you then, sir? 
 
 fir/.. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
 which (.iod made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, 
 with idleness. [awhile. 
 
 OH. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be naught 
 
 Orl. Siiall 1 keej) your hogs, and eat husks with 
 them :' Wiiat pro'lisr:il portion have I spent, that 
 I shoi:!d corae to such penury ? 
 
 Oil. iviiovv >ou wiiere you are, sir? 
 
 Orl. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard. 
 
 OH. Know you before whom, sir? 
 
 Or/. Ay, belter than he I am before knows me. 
 I know, you are my eldest brother; and, in the gen- 
 tle condition of blodd, ymi should bo know me. 
 The roiiit'"<y "f '■>•' « all^^vs vm ny better, in 
 tliat yon are the firstborn; but the s me tradition 
 takes not away my blood, were taere tv suty brothers 
 
 eo 
 
 0.1 
 
 In. ai- nie. 
 MP' good 
 peasant, 
 
 betwixt us : I have as much of my father in me, ta 
 you : albeit, I confess, your coming before nie is 
 nearer to his reverence. 
 
 on. What, boy ! 
 
 Orl. Come, coiue, elder brother, you are tco 
 young in this. 
 
 0/i. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villaiM ■' 
 
 Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of 
 sir Rowland de Bois ; he was my father ; and he 
 is thrice a villain, that says such a father Ingot 
 villains: wert thou notmy brother, I woold r, , 
 this hand from thy throat, till this other had pii"' 
 int thy tongue for saying so; thou hast rai.eil 
 thyself. 
 
 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for jour fa 
 ther's remembrance, be at accord. 
 
 0/i. Let me go, I say. 
 
 Or/. I will not, till I please : you shall 
 My father cliarged you in his will to gi\e 
 education : you have trained nie like a 
 obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like 
 qualities : the spirit of my father grows stiong in 
 me, and I will no longer endure it : therefbn allow 
 me such exercises as may become a geiitlen an, o' 
 give nie t!'e poor allottery my father left ii e by 
 testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. 
 
 OH. And what wilt thou do? beg, when flifit is 
 spent? Well, sir, get you in; I will not long be 
 troubled with yon : you shall have some part of 
 your will : I pray you, leave me. 
 
 Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes 
 me lor my good. 
 
 OH. Get you witb liini, you old dog. 
 
 Adam. Is old dog my reward ? INlnst true, I have 
 lost my teeth in voiir service.— God be with -uy ola 
 master! he would not have spoke such a word. 
 
 \Exeunt Orlando and Adam. 
 
 OH. Is it even so? begin you to glo^v upiiii me? 
 I will physic your raukness, and yet give no tlmu- 
 sand crowns neither, llola, Dennis ; 
 Enter Dennis. 
 
 J)en. Calls your worship ? 
 
 OH. VVas not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here 
 to speak with me ? 
 
 Dtn. So please you, he is here at the <hi..i . aird 
 iinfiortiines access to voii. 
 
 OH. Call him iu. {Ex'it B enn'is .\—"V \\\\\ he a 
 good way; and lo-morrow the wrestling is. 
 
 Enter Charles. 
 Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 
 OH. Good monsieur Charles! — what's the iie.v 
 news at the new court? 
 
168 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Chn. There's n;) news at the court, sir, but the 
 aid news : that is, the old duke is biuiished by iiis 
 yotintfer brothi r the new duke ; and three or four 
 lovitii; lords have put tlieiiiselves ijito vohuitary 
 exile with liirii, vvliose lands and revenues enrich 
 the new duke; therefore lie gives them good leave 
 to wander. 
 
 OIL Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh- 
 ter, be banished with her father"^ 
 • Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, 
 so lo\es lier, — being ever from their cradles brfd 
 together, — that she would have folhiwed her exile, 
 or have dieil to stay behind her. She is at the court, 
 and no less beloved of her uncle than liis own 
 daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. 
 
 Oil. Where will the old duke live? 
 
 Cha. 'J'hey say, he is alrertdy in the forest of Ar- 
 den, and a many merry men with him; aud tliere 
 they live like tiie old Robin Hood of England: 
 they say, many yo ing gentlemen flock to him every 
 day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in 
 the golden world. (new duke V 
 
 On. What, you wrestle to-morrow befoje the 
 
 Vha. Marry, do 1, .sir; and I came to acquaint 
 you with a matter. I am given, sir, secreily to 
 understand, thit your younger brother, Orlando, 
 liath a disposition to come in di.sguis'd against me 
 to try a fall : to-morrow, sir, 1 wrestle- for my 
 credit; and he that escapes me without some broken 
 limb, shall acquit him well. Your brother is but 
 young, and tender; and, (or your love, I would be 
 (oath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if 
 he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I 
 came hither to acquaint you withal ; that either you 
 might st.iy him from his intendment, or brook such 
 disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a 
 thing of his own search, and altogether against 
 my will. 
 
 OIL Charles, I thank thee for thy lo\e to me, 
 whicli thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. 1 
 had myself notice of iny brother's purpose herein, 
 and have iiy underhand means laboured to dissuade 
 him from it; but he is resolute. Ill tell thee, 
 Charles, — it is the stubbornest young fellow of' 
 France ; full of ambition, an envious emulator of 
 every man's good parts, a secret and villainous con- 
 triver against me his natural brother; therefure use 
 thy discretion ; 1 had as lief thoii didst break his 
 neck as his finger: and thou wert best look to't; 
 for if thou dost liim any slight disgrace, or if lie do 
 not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise 
 against thee by poison, entrap thee by some trea- 
 cherous device, and never leave thee, till he hath 
 ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other : lor, 
 I assurp thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there 
 is not one so young and so villainous this day living. 
 I speak but brotherly of him ; but should 1 anato- 
 mise him to thee as he is, 1 must blush and weep, 
 and thou must look pale and wonder. 
 
 Cha. I am heartily glad 1 came hither to you : if 
 he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if 
 ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prizr' 
 more : and so, God keep your worship I [Exit. 
 
 OIL Farewell, good Charles. — Now will 1 atir 
 this gamester: 1 hope, 1 sh.iU see an end of hiu; 
 for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing 
 more tiian he. Vet he's gentle; never school'd, and 
 yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts en 
 chantingiy beloved; and, indeed, so much in the 
 heart of tlie world and especially of iny own people, 
 who best know him, tliat 1 aiu altogether misjjiised : 
 but ic shall not be so long ; this wrfstler shall clear 
 all ; nothing remains, but tliat 1 kindie the bov 
 
 thither, which now 111 go about. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — A Lmvn before the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Cel. J pray thee, Rosalind, svve;-l my cuz, be merry. 
 Sioa. Dear Celia, I show more m'irth 'ban 1 am 
 
 mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? 
 Unless you could teach me to forget a bauisin-d fa- 
 ther, you must not learn nie Ijow to leniember any 
 extraordinary pleasure. 
 
 CeL Herein, I see, thou lov est me not with the 
 full weight that 1 love thee : if my uncle, thy ba- 
 nished lather, had banished thy uncle, thr duke my 
 lather, so thou liadst been .slill with nie, I could 
 have taught my love to take thy lather for mine ; 
 so would st thou, if the truth of fhy love to nie Were 
 so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. 
 
 Ros. \Vell, I will forget the condition of my 
 estate, to rejoice in yours. 
 
 CeL You know, my father hath no child but I, 
 nor none is like to have ; and, truly, when he dies, 
 thou shalt be iiis hrir : for what he hath taken away 
 from thy f ither perforce, I will render thee again in 
 alfectiou ; by mine honour, I will ; and when 1 break 
 that oath, let me turn monster : therefore, my sweet 
 Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 
 
 Ros. From henceforth, I will, coz, and devise 
 sports : let me see ; VV hat think yon o! falling in 
 love ''. 
 
 CeL Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sp(ut withal : 
 but love no man in good earnest; nor no lurther ia 
 sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou 
 may'st in honour come off again. 
 
 Ros. What shall be our sport then'? 
 
 CeL Let lis sit and mock the good housewife. 
 Fortune, from her wheel, that her gilts may hence- 
 forth be bestowed equally. 
 
 Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits 
 are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful blind 
 woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 
 
 CeL 'Tis true : for those that she makes fair, she 
 scarce makes honest ; and those that she makes 
 honest, she makes very illf'avour'dly. 
 
 Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's oliice 
 to nature's : fortune reigns in gilts of the world, 
 not in the lineaments of nature. 
 
 Enter Tocchstone 
 
 CeL No? When nature hath made a fair creature, 
 may she not by fortune fall into the fire I — I'hough 
 nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, li.ith not 
 fortune sent in this fool to cut oil' the argument ' 
 
 Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; 
 when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter oft" 
 of nature's wit. 
 
 CeL Peradventure, this is not fortune's work nei- 
 ther, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wit.s 
 too dull to reason of such goddi sses, hath sent this 
 natural for our whetstone : for always the diilness 
 of the fool is the whetstone of his wits. — How now, 
 wit ? whither wander you '/ [ father 
 
 Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your 
 
 CeL VVere you made the messenger'/ 
 
 Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid (o 
 come for you. 
 
 Ros. VVliere learned you that oath, fool ? 
 
 Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by bis 
 honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his 
 honour the mustard was naught : now, I II stand to 
 it, tlie pancakes were naMyht, and the mustard was 
 good : and yet was not the knight forsworn. 
 
 CeL How prove you tuat, in the great heap o< 
 your knowledge '? 
 
 Ros. Ay, marry; now nnmuzzle your wisdom. 
 
 Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your 
 chins, and swear by your beards that 1 am a knave. 
 
 CeL By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 
 
 Touch. By my knavery, il I had it, then 1 were" 
 but if you swear by that that is not, you are not for. 
 sworn : no more was tliis knigiit, swearing by his 
 honour, for he never had any ; or, if he had, lie iiad 
 sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes 
 or that mustard. 
 
 CeL Fr'ythee, who is't that thou' mean'st ? 
 
 Touch. One tlurtold Frederick, your fatlier, loves. 
 
 CeL My father's love is enough to honour him. 
 
SCEXE 2. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 169 
 
 Enoiiftli ! speak no mor-e i.t liini ; you'll be wliipp'fl 
 lor t.;ixMfiiiii, one of tliese days. 
 
 Touch. The more pity, tliat fools may not speak 
 wisely, wImI wise men do foolishly. 
 
 L'el. By my troth, tlioii saysi true : for since tlie 
 ittle wit, tliat fools have, was silenced, (he little 
 oolery, that wi.se men have, makes a great show. 
 Here comes M. Le Bean. 
 
 Enter Le Beau. 
 
 Ri)<i. With liis mouth full of news. 
 
 Cvl. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 
 their yoiiMi;. 
 
 Ros. Then siiall we be new.s cramm'd 
 
 ('</. .Ml the lietter; we sliall be the more mar- 
 ket, ilile. Bun jour, .Monsieur Le Beau : \V'liat"s 
 the n- ws :' [sijort. 
 
 Lf lieiru. Fair princess, yon have lost much good 
 
 CV/. Si/oit? of what colour? 
 
 Li' lii'tiii. What colour, madam? How shall I 
 auswiT villi :" 
 
 //i;.v. .\s wit and fortune will. 
 
 Toitc/t. Or as the destinies decree. 
 
 (,'e/. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. 
 
 Tdiir/i. Nay, if I keep not my rank, 
 
 I'lis. 'I'lioii losest thy old smell. 
 
 Le Her/It. Voii amaze tne, ladies : I would have 
 fold you of good wrestling, which you have lost 
 the si^ht of. 
 
 Rus. Vet tell US the manner of the wrestline;. 
 
 Lf liffiii. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it 
 please your ladyships, yon may see the end ; for 
 the bisl IS yet to do ; and here, where you are, they 
 are coiniiii; to perform it. 
 
 <?('/. \Veli, — the beginning, tiiat is dead and 
 buried. 
 
 Le Beau. Tiiere comes an old man and his three 
 Bons, 
 
 CV/. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 
 
 Le Benit. 'I'hree proper young men, ol excellent 
 growtn and presence ; 
 
 Rus. With bills on their necks, — Be it known 
 unio all men by the.se presents, 
 
 Le Bean. Tne eldest of the three wrestled with 
 Charles, the duk' 's wrestler; wliicli Charles in a 
 nionient threw him, and broke tiiree of his ribs, 
 that there is little hope of life in him : so he served 
 the second, and so the third : yonder they lie ; the 
 poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole 
 over tiiem, that all the beholders take his part with 
 
 Jlos. Alas.' [weeping. 
 
 Tuiir/t. But what is the sport, monsieur, tliat 
 the la. lies have lost ? 
 
 Le Bean. W^hy, this that I speak of. 
 
 Tunch. i'hus men may grow wiser every day! it 
 is the li.st tune that ever 1 heard, breaking of ribs 
 was siiort fur ladies. 
 
 (\'l. Or [, I promise thee. 
 
 Ros. But is there any else longs to see tiiis broken 
 music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon 
 rib-breaking :" — Shall vve see this wrestling, cousin i 
 
 Le Bean. You must, if you stay here : for here 
 is tlie j.lace ap|)oiiited lor the wrestling, and tliey 
 are ready to perform it. 
 
 Cel. \onder, sure, they are coming: let us 
 now slay and see it. 
 
 Flourish. Enter DuKE FREDERICK, Lords, Ok- 
 LANDO, Charles, and Attendants. 
 
 Diile F. Come on; since the youth will not be 
 entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 
 
 Rus. Is youder the man? 
 
 lie Beau. Ei'.en he, madam. [cessfully. 
 
 (el. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks siic- 
 
 l)id-e F. How now, daUi^hter, and cousin? are 
 YOU crept lather to see the wrestling? 
 
 Itos. Ay. my liege : so please you give us leave. 
 
 Du/ce F. Vou will take little delight in it, I can 
 tell Ml. I, til. re is such odds in the men : in pity of 
 the challenger's youth, I would faia dissuade him, 
 
 but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies, 
 see if j'oii ran mo\ e him. 
 
 Ce/. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le E^Jeavi. 
 
 Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by. {Duke goes 
 apart.) 
 
 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses 
 call for you. 
 
 Orl. 1 attend them, with all respect and duty. 
 
 Rus. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
 the wrestler? 
 
 Orl. No, f.iir princess ; he is (he general cnal- 
 lenger : I come but in, as others do, to try with 
 him tiie strength ot my youth. 
 
 Cel. YoiiiiJ gentleman, your spirits are too bold 
 for your years : you have seen ciiiel | roof of this 
 man's strenglli : if you saw yourself with your eyes, 
 or knew yourself uitli your judgment, the fear of 
 your adventure would counsel you to a more equal 
 enterprise. We pray you, ibr your own sake, 
 to embrace your own s'afety, and give over thi.s 
 attempt. 
 
 Rus. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not 
 therefore be misprised : we will make it our suit to 
 the duke, that tiie wrestling might not go foi wan!. 
 
 Orl. I beseech yon, punish nie not witli your hard 
 thoughts : wherein I conless me much guilty, to 
 deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let 
 your iair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to 
 my trial : wherein if 1 be foiled, there is but one 
 shamed, that was never gracious; il killed, but one 
 dead, that is willing to be so : I shall do my friends 
 no wrong, for I have none to lament me : the world 
 no injury, for in it I lia\e nothing; only in the 
 world I till up a place, wliicli may be better sup- 
 plied when 1 have made it empty. 
 
 Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it 
 were with you. 
 
 Cel. And mine, to eke out her'.s. (in you I 
 
 Ros. Fare you well. Piay heaven, I be deceived 
 
 Cel. Your heart'? desires be with you. 
 
 Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is 
 so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? 
 
 Orl. Heady, sir; but Ins will hatli in it a more 
 modest working. 
 
 Duke F. Y'ou shall try but one fall. 
 
 Cha. No, I warrant your grace ; you shall not 
 entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- 
 suaded him from a first. 
 
 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should 
 not have mocked me before : but come your ways. 
 
 Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man ! 
 
 Cel. I would I were inusible, to catch the strong 
 fellow by the leg. {Charles and Orlando ivresfle^ 
 
 Ros. O excellent young man ! 
 
 Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
 tell who should down. {Charles is thrown. S/iout.) 
 
 Duke F. No more, no more. 
 
 Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not yel 
 well breathed. 
 
 Duke F. How dost thoii, Charles? 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
 Duke F. Bear him away. {Charles is borne out. 
 What is thy name, young man ? 
 
 Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir 
 Rowland de Bois. [man else. 
 
 Duke F. I would thou liadst been son to some 
 The world esteem'd thy father honourable, 
 Bu* I did tiiid him still mine enemy : 
 Tnou shouldst have better pleas'd ine with this deed, 
 liadst thou descended from another house. 
 But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant youth ; 
 I would, thou haflst told me of another father. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke Fred, train, and Le Beau. 
 
 Cel. Were I my tatlier, coz, would I do tiiis ? 
 
 Orl. I am more proud to be sir llowland's son. 
 His youngest son; — and would not change that 
 Te be adopted heir to Frederick. (calling, 
 
 Rus. My father lov'd sir Ilowland as his soul. 
 And all the world was of my laliieis mind : 
 Had I before known this young man his sun, 
 
170 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 1 should have given him tears unto entreaties, 
 Cre he should thus have ve!itiir'd. 
 
 (7t,/. Gentle cousin. 
 
 Let us go thank him, and encourage him : 
 My father's rough and envious disposition 
 Sticks me at heart.— Sir, you have well deserv'd : 
 If you do keep your prouiises in hjve, 
 But justly, as you have exceeded promise. 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
 Ros, Gentleman, 
 
 {Giving him a chain from her neck.) 
 Wear this for me ; one out of suits with fortune ; 
 That could give more, but that her hand lacks 
 Shall we go, cosi? [means.— 
 
 C'el. Ay : — Fare you well, fair gentleman. 
 
 Orl. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts 
 Are all thrown down ; and that, which liere stands up, 
 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
 
 Ros. He calls us back : uiy pride fell with my 
 fortunes : 
 ['11 ask him what he would :— Did you call, sir?— 
 Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
 Mo' e than your enemies. 
 
 Cel. Will you go, coz ? 
 
 Jios. Have with you : — Fare your well. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my 
 tongue ? 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. 
 
 Re-enter Le Beau. 
 O poor Orlando I thou art overtlirown : 
 Or Ch;irles, or souiething weaker, masters thee. 
 
 Le Beau. Good sir, 1 do in fri^ndsh■!p counsel you 
 To leave tiiis place : Albeit you have deserv'd 
 High commendation, true applause, and love; 
 Yrt sucii is now the duke's coudition, 
 Tliat he misconstrues all that you have done. 
 The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed. 
 More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of. 
 
 Oil 1 thank you, sir : and, piay you, tell me this ; 
 Wind) of the two was daughter of the duke, 
 Tiiat ht're was at the wrestling? 
 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
 manners ; 
 But yet, indeed, t!ie shorter is his daughter : 
 'j'iie otiier is daughter to the banislid duke, 
 And here detam'd by her usuriiing uncle, 
 To keep his daughter coin|)any ; whose loves 
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
 But 1 can tell you, that of late this duke 
 HaUi ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece ; 
 Grounded upon no other argument. 
 But that the people praise her for her virtues. 
 And pity her for her good father's sake ; 
 And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
 Will suddenly break tbrth. — Sir, fare you well ! 
 Hereafter, in a better world tuan this, 
 
 shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
 
 Orl. I rest much bouuden to you : fare you well ! 
 
 [Exit Le Beau. 
 Tiius must I from the smoke into the smother; 
 From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother: — 
 Hut heavenly Rosalind I [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — A Room i?i the Palace. 
 Enter Celia and Rosalind. 
 Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;— Cupid have 
 
 -Not; 
 
 rd? 
 
 Bieroy 
 
 Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 
 
 Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast 
 way upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, 
 ame me witii reasons. 
 
 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when 
 he one shnuld be lamed v\'ith reasons, and the other 
 mad without anj'. 
 
 Cel. But is all this for your father? 
 
 Ros. No, some of it for my cliild's father: O, how 
 full ol briers is this working-day world I 
 
 Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee 
 
 in holyday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden 
 paths, our very petticoats will catch them. 
 
 Ros. I could shake them c.Tmy coat; these bur.^ 
 are in my heart. 
 
 Cel. Hem them away. [him. 
 
 Ros. I would try; ill could cry hem, and have 
 
 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy aliections. 
 
 Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler 
 than myself 
 
 Cel. O, a good wish upon yon ! you will try in 
 time, in despite of a fall. — But, tuieing these jests 
 out of service, let ns talk in good earnest : Is it 
 possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
 strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? 
 
 Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly, 
 
 Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love 
 his son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I should 
 hate him, fir my father hated his father dearly ; yet 
 I hate not Orlando. 
 
 Ros. No, 'faith ; hate him not, for my sake. 
 
 Cel. Why should I not? doth he nut deserve well ? 
 
 Ros. Let me love him i'or that; and do you love 
 him, because 1 do: — Look, here comes the duke. 
 
 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, ivith Lords. 
 
 Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest 
 And get you from our court. [haste, 
 
 Ros. Me, uncle? 
 
 Duke F. You, cousin • 
 
 Within these ten days if that thou be'st found 
 So near our public court as twenty miles, 
 Thou diest for it. 
 
 Ros. I do beseech your grace. 
 
 Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me : 
 If with myself I hold intelligence, 
 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ; 
 If that I do not dream, or be not frantic, 
 (As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle. 
 Never, so much as in a thought unborn. 
 Did I otfend your highness. 
 
 Duke F. Thus do all traitors ; 
 
 If their purgation did consist in words. 
 They are as innocent as grace itself: — 
 Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. 
 
 Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor : 
 Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 
 
 Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's 
 enough. 
 
 Ros. So was I, when your highness took hia 
 dukedom; 
 So was I, when your highness banish'd him : 
 Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
 Or, if we did derive it I'rom our friends. 
 What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much. 
 To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 
 Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 
 
 Duke F. Ay. Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake 
 Else had she with her father rang'd along. 
 
 Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay. 
 It was your pleasure, and your own remorse ; 
 I w as too young that time to value her, 
 But now I know her : if she be a traitor. 
 Why so am I ; we still have slept together, ' 
 Rose at an instant, learn'd, I'lay'd, eat together; 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans. 
 Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 
 
 Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her 
 Her very silence, and her patience, [smoothness 
 Speak to the people, and they pily her. 
 Thou art a fool : she robs thee oi thy name , 
 And thou wilt show more bright, and .seem more 
 
 virtuous. 
 When she is gone : then open not thy lips; 
 Firm and irre'ocable is my doom 
 Which I have pass'd upon her ; she is banish"d 
 
 Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my 
 I cannot live out other comitnnv. [iiege; 
 
 Duke F. You are a fool :— 1; ou, mece, provide 
 yourself ; 
 
Act II. Scene 2. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 171 
 
 li'you outstay the time, upon tm'ne honour. 
 And iu the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke Frederic and Lords. 
 
 Cel. my poor Rosalind I wiiither wilt thou go ? 
 Wilt thou change futhers? I will >;i%e thee mine. 
 I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than 1 am. 
 
 Ros. I have more cause. 
 
 (<pI_ Thou hast not, cousin ; 
 
 Frylhee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, tlie duke 
 Hath banish'd ine, his daughter ? 
 
 Has. That he hath not. 
 
 C'e/.No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 
 Which teacheth thee, that tliou and I am one : 
 Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl ' 
 No; let my father seek another heir. 
 Therefore devise with nie, how we may fly. 
 Whither to go, and what to bear with us : 
 And do not seek to take your cliange upon you, 
 To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out ; 
 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale. 
 Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 
 
 ilos. Why, whither shall we go ? 
 
 Cel. To seek my uncle. 
 
 Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to ns. 
 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? 
 lieauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
 
 Cel. I'll put rayself in poor and mean attire, 
 And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; 
 The like do you ; so shall we pass along. 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 Ros. Were it not better. 
 
 Because that I am more than common tall. 
 That I did suit me all points like a man ? 
 A gallant cuitle ax upon my thigh, 
 A boar-spear iu my hand ; and (in my heart 
 Lie there what hidden woman's fear (here will) 
 We'll have a swashing and a martial outside ; 
 As many other mannish cowards have. 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 
 
 Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? 
 
 Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's oVvn 
 page. 
 And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
 But what will you be call'd ? 
 
 Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state ; 
 No longer Celia, but Aliena. 
 
 Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal 
 The clownish fool out of your father's court? 
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel :* 
 
 Cel. He'll go ailing o'er the wide world with me ; 
 Leave me alone to woo him : Let's away. 
 And get our jewels and our wealth together; 
 Devise the fittest time, and safest way 
 To hide us from pursuit, that will be made 
 After my flight : Now go we in content. 
 To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 Scene I. — The forest of Arden. 
 
 Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and other Lords, 
 hi the dress of Foresters. 
 Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in 
 exile, 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Thau that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peiil than tlie envious court? 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
 1'he season's ditference ; as, the i^y fang. 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; 
 Which, when it bites and blows upon my body. 
 Even till I shrink with cold, 1 smile, aHd say, — 
 This is no flattery : these are counsellors. 
 That iVf li'igly persuade me what 1 am. 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity ; 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous. 
 Wears yet a precious jewt-l in his head ; 
 And this our life, exeuipt from public haunt. 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in Hi-- rumiiug brooks, 
 Sermons iu stones, and good in every thing. 
 
 Ami. I would not change it : Happy is your 
 grace. 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 
 
 Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? 
 And yet it iiks me, the pour dappled fools, — 
 Being native burghers ol this desert city. — 
 Should, in their own confines, with forked heads 
 Have their round haunches gor'd. 
 
 1 Lo7-d. Indeed, my lord 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 'J'han doth your brother, that hnth banish'd you. 
 To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself. 
 Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook, that brawls along this wood : 
 'J'o the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
 I'hat from the Hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord, 
 The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans. 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears 
 Cours'd one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase : and thus the hairy tool. 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brouk. 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
 
 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similies. 
 First, for his weeping in the needless sfreaiu : 
 Poor deer, quotli he, thou mak'st a testament 
 As worldlinrjs do, <jivin<j thu sum of more 
 
 To that which had too much : Then, being alone. 
 Left and abandou'd oi his velvet friends; 
 'Tis riijht, quoth he; thus misery doth part 
 The flux of company : Anon, a careless herd, 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him. 
 And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth Jaqies, 
 Sweep on. you fat and oreasy citizens ; 
 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look 
 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there { 
 Thus most invectively he pierceth througli 
 The body of the country, city, court, 
 Yea, and of this our life : swearing, that we 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse. 
 To fright the animals, and to kill them up. 
 In their assign'd and native dwelling place. 
 Duke S. And did you leave him in tliis contem- 
 plation ? imenling 
 
 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping, and coiu- 
 Upon the sobbing deer 
 
 Duhe S. Show me the place 
 
 I love to cope him in these sullen tits, 
 For then he's full of matter. 
 
 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene H.— ^ Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendant.'^- 
 Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw them 
 It cannot be : some villains of my court 
 Are of consent and suti'erance in this. , 
 
 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. 
 The ladies, her attendants of her cha'iber. 
 Saw her a-bed ; and, in the morning early. 
 They found the bed untreasur'tl of their mistress. 
 
 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so 
 
 oft 
 Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
 Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman. 
 Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 The parts and graces of the wrestler. 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
 And she believes, wherever li.ey are gone. 
 That vouth is surelv in their company. [Iiiter 
 
 Duke F. Send to his biother : fetch thai ga lant 
 If he be absi;iit, bring his brother to me, 
 I'll make him And him : do this suddenly , 
 
172 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 And let ii<5t search ami inquisition quail 
 
 i'o b:iii5 again tliese ioolisli runaways. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. — Before Oliver's House. 
 Enter Orlando and Ad.vm, irieeting. 
 Or/. Wlu)'.s tliere? [master, 
 
 Adam. VVHiat ! my y<)un<? master? O, my gentle 
 O, my sweet master, O, yon memory 
 or old Sir Rowland ! why, what make you here? 
 Why are yov virtnons? \W\y do people love you? 
 And wherefore are yon gentle, strong, and valiant ? 
 Why would you be so fond to overrnme 
 The bony priser of the humorous duke ? 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
 Know yon not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their graces serve then; but as enemies ? 
 No more do yonrs; your virtues, gentle master, 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to yon. 
 O, what a world is this, when wiiat is comely 
 Envenoms him that bears it I 
 Orl. Why, what's the matter? 
 Adam. O, unhappy youth. 
 
 Come not within these doors ; witliin this roof 
 'I'he enemy of all your graces lives : 
 Vonr brother — (no, no brother; yet the son — 
 Vet not the son ; — I will not call him son — 
 Of him I was about to call his father,) — 
 Hath heard your praises ; and this night he means 
 'I'o burn the lodging where \ou use to lie. 
 And you within it : il'he fail of that. 
 He will ha\e other means to cut you off: 
 I overheard him, and his practices. 
 This is no place, this house is but a butchery ; 
 Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. [me go ? 
 
 Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have 
 Adam No matter whitiier, so you come not here. 
 Orl. What, woiddst thou have me go and beg my 
 food i 
 Or, v.itli a base and boisterous sword, enforce 
 A thievish living on the common road ? 
 'i'iiis I inust<lo, or know not what to do: 
 Vet tiiis I will not do, do how I can ; 
 i ratli-r will subject me to the malice 
 Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. 
 
 Adam. But do not so : I have five hundred crowns, 
 Thr tliiilty hire I saved under your father. 
 Which I did store, to be my foster nurse. 
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame. 
 And unregarded age in corners thrown ; 
 Take that: and He, that doth the ravens feed, 
 Vea, providently caters lor the sparrow, 
 iie comfort to my age ! Here is tlie gold ; 
 All this I give yon : Let me be your servant; 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellions liqnors in my blood; 
 Nor did not with unbashfiil forehead woo 
 The means oi weakness and debility : 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter. 
 Frosty, but kinilly : let me go with you : 
 I'll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your bnsiiiess and necessities. 
 
 Orl. O good old man ; how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique woild, 
 When service sweat for duty, uit lor meed ! 
 Thou art not for the fasliKui of tlie.ie tunes. 
 Where none will sweat, but for prom, tion ; 
 And having that, do choke theii service up 
 Even with the having: it is not so with tliee. 
 Hilt, poi'r old man, lliou [Hiiirst a rotten tree. 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield. 
 In lien ot all thy pains and linshanilrv : 
 iiiit.come ihy ways, we'll go along togetlier; 
 And er^ we have tliy youllifnl wages spent. 
 We'll liglit nptm some setthd lovv content. 
 
 Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee. 
 To the last ga.xp, with truth and lovalty. — 
 From sevmteen years till now, ahnost t'onrscore. 
 Here lived 1, but nou live here no more. 
 At .sevtuleen years many tiieir lurlunes seek; 
 
 But at fourscore, it \n too late a week : 
 Vet fortune cannot recompense me better. 
 Than to die well, and not my laaster's debtor. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The forest of Arden. 
 
 Enter Rosalind in boys clothes, Cflia, drest like 
 
 a Shepherdess, and I'ouchstone. 
 
 Ros. O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits ! 
 
 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
 not weary. 
 
 Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my 
 man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : but 1 must 
 comfiirt the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose 
 ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; there- 
 fore, courage, good Aliena. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot go no 
 further. 
 
 Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with yon, 
 than bear you : yet I should bear no cross, if 1 did 
 bear you ; for, I think, you have no money in your 
 purse. 
 
 Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 
 
 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden : the more fool 
 I; when I was at home, I was in a better phice ; 
 but travellers must be content, 
 
 Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone : — Look you, 
 who comes here ; a young man, and an old, in so- 
 lemn talk. 
 
 Enter CoRiN and SiLVius. 
 
 Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
 
 Sil. O Corin, that thou kne vv'st how I do love her ! 
 
 Cor. I partly guess : for I have lov'd ere now. 
 
 Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess; 
 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
 As ever sigh'd ui'on a midnight pillow: 
 But, if thy love were ever like to mine, 
 (As sure 1 think did never man love so,) 
 How many actions most ridiculous 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? 
 
 Cor. Into a thousand, that 1 liave iorgotten. 
 
 Sil. O, tlioii didst then ne'er love so heartily - 
 If thou remember'st not the slightest folly. 
 That ever love did make thee run into. 
 Thou hast not lov'd : 
 Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now. 
 Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
 Thoii hast not lov'd : 
 
 Or, if thou hast not broke from company. 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
 Thou hast not lov'd : O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! 
 
 [Exit Silvius. 
 
 Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching oi thy 
 wound, 
 I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
 
 Touch. And I mine : I reniei'iber, when 1 aas in 
 lo'e, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him 
 take that for coming a-uiglit to Jane Smile : and I re 
 member the kissin;; ol' her batlet, and then the covv"s 
 dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had mllkd : ami 
 I remember tlie wooing of a peascod instead of her; 
 from whom I took two cods, and, piving her them 
 again, said with wee|)ing tears. Wear these for m;/ 
 sake. We. that are true lovers, run into sti ange 
 capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature 
 in hue iTKutal in folly. 
 
 Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. 
 
 Touch. Nay, 1 siiall ne'er be 'ware of mine own 
 wit. till I break my slims against it. 
 
 Ros. Jove ! Jove ! this slie|)lier(rs passion 
 Is mnrh upon my fashion. 
 
 Touch. And mine ; but it grows something stale 
 witii me. 
 
 Cel. I pr IV yon, one "f you question yond' inau, 
 if he tor gold will give us any food; 
 I tiMiit iilinost to (hath. 
 
 Touch. Holloa : vou, clown! 
 
 /,',;,v. Peace, fool ; he's not thy kinsinaa 
 
 Cor. Who calls ■* 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 173 
 
 Touch. Your betters, sir. 
 
 Cor. Else are the)' very wretched. 
 
 Rus. Peace, 1 say : — 
 
 Gixid even to you, friend. 
 
 Cur. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
 
 Rus. I pr'ytliee, shepherd, it'thatloie, or gold, 
 Can i}i this desert place buy entertainment, 
 Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed : 
 Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd, 
 And faints for succour. 
 
 Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, 
 
 And wish for lier sake, more than tiir mine own, 
 My fortunes were more able to relieve her : 
 But I am shepherd to anotlier man. 
 And do not sheer the fleeces tliat I graze; 
 My master is of churlish dis|)osition, , 
 
 And little recks to find the way to heaven 
 By doing deeds of hospitality : 
 Besides his cote, his llocks, and bounds of feed. 
 Are now on sale, and at onr sheepcote now. 
 By reason of his absence, there is notliing 
 That you will ieed on; but wliat is, come see. 
 And in my voice most welcome sliall you be. 
 
 Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pas- 
 ture? [erewliile. 
 
 Cor. That young swain, that you saw here but 
 That little cares for buying any thing. 
 
 Ro.i. i pray thee, if it stand witli honesty, 
 Buy thcu the cottage, pasture, and t'le flock, 
 And taou shalt have to pay for it of us. [place, 
 
 Cel. And we will mend thy wages : I like this 
 And willingly could waste my time in it. 
 
 Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold ; 
 Go with me; if you like, upon report. 
 The soil, the profit, and this kind of lite, 
 I will your very faithful leeder he, 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. 
 Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Ami. Under the greenwood tree. 
 Who loves to lie with me. 
 And tune his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird s throat, 
 Come hither, comt hdher, come hither ; 
 Here shall he see ' 
 
 No enemy. 
 But ivinter and rouyh iveathvr. 
 
 Jaq. j\lore, more, I pr'ythee, more. [.Taques. 
 
 Ami. It will make you m,<"laiicholy, monsieur 
 
 Jaq. I thank it. More, 1 pr'ythee, more. I can 
 suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks 
 eggs : More, I pr'ythee, more. [please you. 
 
 Ami. My voice is ragged • I know, I cannot 
 
 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire 
 you to sing : Come, more; another stanza ; Call you 
 them stanzas? 
 
 Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. 
 
 Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe 
 nie nothing : Will you sing '? [self. 
 
 Ami. .More at your request, than to please my- 
 
 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll 
 hank you : but that they call compliment, is like 
 the encounter of two dog apes ; and when a man 
 thanks lue heartily, methii ks, I have given him a 
 penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. 
 Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your 
 tongues. 
 
 Ami. Well, I'll end the song. — Sirs, cover the 
 while ; the duke will drink under this tree : — he hath 
 been all this day to look you. 
 
 Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. 
 lie i^too disputable for my coi.ipany : 1 think of as 
 many matters as lie ; but 1 give heaven thanks, and 
 make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Who doth amhiliun shun, (.\11 together here.) 
 And loves to lire i' the sun, 
 Seeking t lie food he eats. 
 And pleas d with what he 'jets. 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither; 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy. 
 But ivinter and rowjh weather. 
 
 Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I mad* 
 yesterday in despite of my invention. 
 Ami. And I'll sing it. 
 Jaq. Tiius it goes : r 
 
 If it do come to pass, 
 
 That any man turn ass, 
 
 Leaviny his wealth and ease, 
 
 A stubborn will to please, 
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame ; 
 
 Here shall he see. 
 
 Gross fools as he. 
 An if he will come to Ami. 
 
 Ami. What's that ducdame? 
 
 Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a 
 circle. I'll go sleep if I can ; if I cannot, I'll rail 
 against all (he first-born of Egypt. 
 
 Ami. And I 11 go seek the duke ; his banquet is 
 prepar'd. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene YI. — The same. 
 
 Enter Orlando auc/ Adam. 
 
 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : O, I die 
 for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my 
 grave. Farewell, kind master. 
 
 Orl. Why, how now, .\dani! no greater heart iu 
 thee? Live a little : ciunfort a little ; cheer thyself 
 a little : if this uncouth forest jield any thing savage 
 I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to 
 tiiee. 'J'hy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. 
 For my sake, be comfortable ; hold death awliile at 
 the arms'end : I wdl here be with thee presently; 
 and if I bring thee not something (o- eat. 111 give 
 thee leave to die : but if thou diest beture I come, 
 thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! (Iioii 
 look'st cheerily : and I'll be witli thee quickly. — Yet 
 thou liest in the bleak air : Come, I will bear thee 
 to some shelter; and thou shall not die for lack of a 
 dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Clieerly, 
 good Adam ! {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — The same. A table set out. 
 Enter Y)\jk^ Senior, Amiens, Lords, and others. 
 
 Duke S. I think lie be trausform'd into a beast; 
 For I can no where find him like a man. 
 
 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence ; 
 Here was he merry, hearing of a sonjj. 
 
 Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical. 
 We sliall have shortly discord in the sjjheres :— Go, 
 seek him; tell him, I would speak with him. 
 
 Enter Jaques. 
 
 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. 
 
 Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life 
 is this. 
 That your poor friends must woo your company ? 
 What; you look merrily. 
 
 Jaq. A fool, a fool I 1 met a fool i' the forest, 
 
 A niotiey fool ; — a miserable world! — 
 
 As I do live by food, I met a fool ; 
 
 VVho laid him down and bask'd him in the sun. 
 
 And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms. 
 
 In good set terms.— an I y^ t a motley fool. 
 
 Good morrow, fool, qmitli I : No, sir, quoth he, 
 
 Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent mefortum 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke; 
 
 And loiking on it with lack-lustre eye. 
 
 Says, very wisely, // is tiin o'clock : 
 
 Thus may we see. quotli he, /ww the world ways 
 
 'Tis but an hour a-jo, since it was nine ; 
 
174 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 And after an hour more, 'twill he eleveii ; 
 And so, from /luiir to hour, ice ripe and ripe. 
 And then, from h'oiir to hour, we rot and rot, 
 And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
 My limgs began to crow like cluiiitii leer, 
 Thiit tools should be so deep contemplative; 
 And 1 did laugh, sans intermission. 
 An hour by his dial.— O noble fool ! 
 A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. 
 
 Duhe S. What fool is this ? [tier ; 
 
 Jaq. O worthy fool ! — One, that hath been a cour- 
 Aiid aays, if ladies be but young and i'air. 
 They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, — 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, — he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms : — O, that 1 were a fool! 
 [ am ambitious for a motley coat. 
 
 Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
 
 Jaq. It is my only suit ; 
 
 Pro\ided, that you weed your better judgments 
 Of all opinion that grows rank in them. 
 That I am vvise. I must have liberty 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
 To blow on whom 1 please ; for so fools have ; 
 And they, that are most galled with my folly, 
 They most nuist laugh : And v\hy, sir, must they so? 
 The ivhj/ is jilain as way to parish church : 
 He, th;it a fool doth very wisely hit, 
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
 Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not. 
 The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd 
 Even by the sqiiand'ring glances of the fool. 
 Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
 To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
 Cleanse the foul body of the infected world. 
 It they will patiently receive my lucdinine. 
 
 Duke S. Fy on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst 
 do. 
 
 Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good ? 
 
 Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: 
 For thou thyself hast been a libertine. 
 As sensual as the brutish sting itself; 
 And all the embossed sores, and headed evils, 
 That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
 Would'.st thou disgorge into the general world. 
 
 Jaq. W'hy, who cries out on pride. 
 That can therein tax any private party ? 
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
 Till that the very very means do ebb ? 
 What woman in the city do I name. 
 When that I say. The city woman bears 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 
 Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, 
 When such a one as she, such is herneighbour? 
 Or what is he of basest function. 
 That says, his bravery is not on my cost, 
 (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits 
 His lolly to the mettle of my speech? 
 There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein 
 My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right. 
 Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be tree, 
 Why then, my taxmg like a wild-goose flies, 
 Uaclaim'd of any man. — But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn. 
 
 Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 
 
 Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. 
 
 Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. 
 
 Jaq. or what kind should this cock come of? 
 
 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy 
 distress ; 
 Or Ise a rude despiser of good manners. 
 That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? 
 
 Orl. Yon touch'd my vein at first ; the thorny point 
 Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show" 
 Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred. 
 And know some nurture : But forbear, I say, 
 He dies, that touches any of this fruit, 
 
 Till I and my affairs are answered. 
 
 Jaq. An you will not be answered willi reason, 
 I must die. [shall force, 
 
 Duke S. What would you have? your gentleness 
 More than your firce move us to gentleness. 
 
 Orl. 1 almost die ibr food, and let me have it. 
 
 Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our 
 table. [you : 
 
 Orl. Sjjeak you so gently ? Pardon me, I pray 
 I tliought that all things had been savage here ; 
 And thereibre put I on tlie countenance 
 Of stern commandment : but vvhate'er you are. 
 That in this desert inaccessible, 
 Under the shade of iKelancholy boughs. 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; 
 If ever y«u have look'd on better days; 
 If ever been, where bells have knoll'd to church; 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast; 
 If ever from your eye lids wiped a tear, 
 And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied; 
 Let gentleness my strong enibrcement be : 
 In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 
 
 Duke S. True is it. that we have seen better days; 
 And have witii holy bell been knoll'd to church; 
 And sat at good mens leasts; and wip'd our eyes 
 Of drops, that sacred pity hath engender'd : 
 And theretbre sit you down in gentleness. 
 And take upon command what help we have. 
 That to your wanting may be niinistred. 
 
 Orl. Then, but ibrbear your food a little while. 
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, 
 And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
 \V ho alter me hath many a weary step 
 Limp'd in pure love; till he he first sutiic'd, — 
 Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,^ 
 1 will not touch a bit. 
 
 Duke S. Go find him out. 
 
 And we will nothing waste, till you return. 
 
 Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good 
 comfort! [E.xit 
 
 Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy 
 This wide and uni\ersal theatre 
 Presents more woeful pageants than tiie scene 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaq. All the world's a stage, 
 
 And all the men and women merely players: 
 They have their exits, and their entrances; 
 And one man in his time plays many parts, 
 His acts being se\en ages. At first, the infant. 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; 
 And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel. 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school; and then, the lover; 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eye-brow : then, a soldier, 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard. 
 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 
 Even in the cannon's month; and then, the justicp; 
 In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, 
 VVith eyes severe, and beard of ibrmal cut. 
 Full of wise saws and modern instances. 
 And so he plays his part: tlie sixth age shifts 
 Into the lean and slij'per'd pantaloon; 
 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; 
 His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too v^nde 
 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles in his sound: last scene of all. 
 That ends this strange eventiiil history, 
 l8 second childishness, and mere iibii\ion; 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 
 
 Re-enter Orlando with ADASf. 
 Duke S. Welcome : set down your venerable 
 And let him feed [burden, 
 
 Orl. 1 thank you most for him. 
 
 Adam. So had yju need: 
 I scarce can sneak to thank you for m\stlf. 
 Dulie S. \> clcoine, fall lO; I will mil trouble you 
 
Act III. Scene 2. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 175 
 
 A.* vpt, to question }-oii nbo'.it your fortunes : — 
 ijiive us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 
 
 Amiens si7i(js. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 J]/ow, blow, thou ivinter vcind, 
 Tliou art nut so unkind 
 
 As man's in'jratiliide ; 
 Tliij tooth is not so keen, 
 Bccanse thi.n art not seal, 
 Allhou(jli thij breath be rude. 
 Hei'jh. ho! siiiij hei'jh, hoi v.nlo the. ijrcen holhj : 
 Mu'slJ'riends/iip isj'ci^jninf/, most lovinrj merefoi/i/! 
 Then, /leif/h, ho,' the holly! 
 This lije is most jollij. 
 
 II. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter shj, 
 
 That dust not bite so ni(jh 
 As benejUs j'orijot : 
 
 Thuicjh thou the lu. iters iva.rp. 
 
 Thy slinij is not so sharp 
 As friend remember d not. 
 Heiijli, ho! simj heiyh, ho! &c. 
 Duke S. li'tluit you were tlie good sir Rowland's 
 
 son, — 
 As you li;ive wliisperM lUitiifiiily you were: 
 .And lis mine eye dotii his elii^ies witness 
 I\[ost truly limn'd, iind ii\ini> in your face, — 
 Be truly welcome hitlier: I am the duke, 
 Tliat lov'd your father: tlie residue of your fortune, 
 Go to my ca\e and tell me. — Good old man, 
 Tl;ou art right welcome as (liy master is; 
 iSii|)[)Ort him hy the aim. — Give me your liand, 
 .A.iid let me all your fortunes understand. \_E.xeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter DuKE Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Duke F Not see hini since '■" Sir, sir, that can- 
 not be ; 
 But were 1 not the better |;art made mercy, 
 1 should not seek an absent argument 
 Of my revenge, thou present : but look to it ; 
 Find out thy brother, whereso'er he is ; 
 Seek him with candle ; bring him, dead or living, 
 Within this tweKemonlh, or turn thou no more 
 To seek a liv ing in our territory. 
 'I'hy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine. 
 Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands ; 
 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth. 
 Of what we think against thee. 
 
 OH. O, that your liighness knew my heart in this ! 
 I never lov'd my brother in my life. 
 
 Duke F. More villain thou. — Well, push him 
 out of doors ; 
 And let my officers of such a nature 
 Make an extent upon his house ;ind lands; 
 Do this expediently, and turn him going. {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene U.—The Forest. 
 Enter Orlando, with a paper. 
 
 Orl. H:jng there, my verse, in witness of my love : 
 
 And thou, tIn-ice-crowned queen of night, survey 
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above. 
 
 Thy huntress' name, that my full lite doth sway. 
 O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books. 
 
 And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; 
 That every eye, which in this forest looks. 
 
 Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. 
 Run, run, Orlando ; carve, on every tree. 
 The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. {Exit, 
 
 Enter CoRiN and Touchstone. 
 Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, mas- 
 ter Toachstone ? 
 
 Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is 
 a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd'^ 
 life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I 
 like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, 
 it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the 
 fields, it |>leaseth me well ; but in respect it is not 
 in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look 
 yon, it fits my humour well ; but as there is no more 
 jdeuty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast 
 any philosophy in thee, shepherd? 
 
 Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one 
 sickens, the worse at case he is ; aud that he that 
 wants money, means, and content, is without three 
 good friends : — That the property of rain is to wet, 
 and fire to burn : that good pasture makes fat sheep ; 
 and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the 
 sun: that he, that hath learned no wit by nature 
 nor art, may complain of good breeding, or cornea 
 of a very dull kinared. 
 
 Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
 Wast ever in court, shepherd? 
 Cor. No, truly. 
 Touch. Then thou art damn'd. 
 
 Cor. Nay, I hope, 
 
 Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd ; like an ill roasted 
 egg. all on one side. 
 
 Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. 
 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 
 never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st 
 good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; 
 and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation : thou 
 art in a parlous state, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. Nit a whit. Touchstone: those, that are 
 good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the 
 country, as the behaviour of the country is most 
 mockable at the court. You told me, you salute 
 not at the court, but you kiss your hands ; that 
 courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shep- 
 herds. 
 
 Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 
 Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and 
 their fells, yiiu know, are greasy. 
 
 Touch. Why. do not your courtier's hands sweat ? 
 and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as 
 the sweat of a man ? Shallow, shallow : a better 
 instance, I say ; come. 
 
 Cor. Besides, our liands are hard. 
 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shal 
 low, again ; a more sounder instance, come. 
 
 Cor. .\nd they are often tarr'd over with the sur- 
 gery of our sheep ; and would you hive us kiss tar? 
 The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. 
 
 Touch. Most shallow man ! Thou worms-meat, 
 in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indeed I — Learn 
 of the wise, aud perpend ; Civet is of a baser birth 
 than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend 
 the instance, shepherd. 
 
 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me ; I'll rest. 
 Touch. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, 
 shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art 
 raw. 
 
 Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer ; I earn that I eat, 
 get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's 
 happiness; glad of other men's good, content with 
 my harm : and the greatest of my pride is, to see 
 my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 
 
 Touch. That is another simple sin in you ; to 
 bring the evves and the rams together, and to offer 
 to get your living by the copulation of cattle : to be 
 bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she-lamb of 
 a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old, cu( koldly 
 ran), out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st 
 not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no 
 shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 
 scape. 
 
 Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my 
 new mistress's brother. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. 
 Ros. From the east to western Ind, 
 
176 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 No jewel is like Rosalind. 
 
 lltr worth, beiriff moitnled o)i the wind, 
 
 T/iroH'jh all the world bears Rosalind. 
 
 All the j)Lctiircs,f<iirest lind. 
 
 Arc but black to Rosalind. 
 
 Let tio fare be kejjt in mind, 
 
 Bat the fair of Rosalind. 
 Touch. I'll rhyme yon so, eij;lit years tosetlier; 
 dinners, hiiiI suppers, and sleeping hours excepted : 
 it is ilii- riiilit Ijutter-woman's rank to market. 
 Ros. Odt, iool ! 
 Touch. For a taste : 
 
 Jf a hart do lack a hind. 
 
 Let him seek out Rosalind. 
 
 If the cat loill after kind. 
 
 So. be sure, wilt Ros/dind. 
 
 fVinter-ijarments must be lind, 
 
 So Must slender Rosalind. 
 
 The// that reap, must sheaf atid ht7id ; 
 
 Then to cart with Rosalind. 
 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest raid, 
 
 8:>ch h 11 ul is Rosalind. 
 
 lie that sweetest rose will find. 
 
 Must find love's prick, and Rosalind. 
 
 This is the very false g:illop of \erses ; why do yon 
 infect yourself with theni? [tree. 
 
 Ros. Peace, you dull fool ; I found tiieiu un a 
 
 Touch. Truly, the tree yields biid fruit. 
 
 Ros. Ill gniif it with you, and tlien i shall graO' 
 it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit 
 in the country :. for you'll be rotten ere you be half 
 ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. 
 
 Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, 
 let tlie forest judge. 
 
 Enter Celia, reading a paper. 
 
 Rose. Peace ! 
 Here conies my sister, reading; stand aside. 
 Cel. Will/ should this desert silent be'f 
 For it is unpeopled! No; 
 ''^oiKjues III hanij on every tree. 
 
 That shall civil saxjhajs show. 
 Some, how brief the life of man 
 
 Runs his erring pilgrimage ; 
 That the stretching of a span 
 
 liuck/es in his sum of age. 
 Some, of violated vows 
 
 Twixt the souls of friend and friend : 
 But upon the fairest boughs. 
 
 Or at every sentence' end, 
 Will I Rosalinda write ; 
 
 Teaching all that read, to know 
 The quintessence of every sprite 
 
 Heaven would in little show. 
 Therejore heaven nature charg'd. 
 
 That one body should be jUl'd 
 With all graces wide enlarg'd : 
 
 Nature presently distill'd 
 Helen s cheek, but not her heart : 
 
 Cleopatra's majesty ; 
 Atalanta's better part ; 
 
 Sad Lucre tia's tnodesty.^ 
 Thus Rosalind of many parts 
 
 By heavenly synod was devis'd; 
 Of many faces, eyes, and hearts. 
 
 To have the touches dearest priz'd. 
 Heaven would that she these gifts should 
 And 1 to live and die her slave. [have, 
 
 Ros. O most gentle Jnjjiter ! — what tedious ho- 
 niily o! love ha\e you we;iried your iJurishiouers 
 withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good 
 people ! 
 
 Cel. How now! bark, friends; — Shepherd, go 
 offn little: — Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honour- 
 able retreat; though not with b;ig and baggai,'e, yet 
 vviih scrip and scrippage. 
 
 [Exeunt Covin .md Touchstone. 
 
 Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? 
 
 Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for 
 some of them had in tliein more ieet than tiie \erses 
 would bear. [verses. 
 
 Cel. 'J'liat's no matter; the feet might bear the 
 
 Ros. Ay, but the ieet were lame, and cijuld not 
 bear tiiemselves without the verse, and tiierelbre 
 stood lamely in the verse. 
 
 Cel. But di.lst thou hear, without wondering how 
 thy name should be hang'd and carved lipoa these 
 trees '(" 
 
 Ros. I was seven of the nine days out oi' llie 
 wonder before you came; fur look here wliat 1 
 found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-riiymcd 
 since Pytliagoras' tune, that 1 was an Irisli rat, 
 which 1 can hardly lemember. 
 
 Cel. Trow you, who hath done this? 
 
 Ros. Is it a man? 
 
 Cel. Aiid a chain, that you once wore, about his 
 neck: change you colour? 
 
 Ros I pr'ytlu e, vvlio? 
 
 Cel. O lord, lord ! it is a hard nia*t<'r for fr'ends 
 (o meet; but nnmiitains may be renio\eu with 
 earthquakes, and so encounter. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but who is it ^ 
 
 Cel. Is it possilile ? 
 
 Riis. Nay, 1 pray thee now, with nu^st petitionary 
 vehemence, tell me who it is. 
 
 Cel. O wonderlid, wunderfuJ, and most wonderful 
 \von<lerful, and yet again wonderful, and after that 
 out of ail wliociping I 
 
 Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, 
 though 1 am capaiison'd like a man,. 1 have a doub- 
 let and hose in my disposition? One inch ol delay 
 more is a iSouth-sea-olf discovery. I pr'ythee, tell 
 nie, who is it? quickly, and speak apace: 1 would 
 thou couldst stammer, that thou mighfst jjoui this 
 concealed man out of thy nioulh, as wine comes oiil 
 of a narrow- inoutird bottle ; either too much at 
 once, or none at all. I jn-'ythee, take tlie cork out oi 
 thy mouth, that 1 may drink thy litlings. 
 
 Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. 
 
 Ros. Is he of God's making? What manner o( 
 man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin uoith a 
 beard ? 
 
 Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
 
 Ros. Wiiy, God will send more, if the man will 
 be thaukl'ul : let me stay the growth oi' his beard, 
 if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 
 
 Cel. It is young Oi lando ; that tripp'd up the 
 wres'tler's heels, and your heart, both in un instant. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but the devil take oiocking; speak 
 sad brow, and true maid. 
 
 Cel. I faith, coz, 'tis he 
 
 Ros. Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. Orlando. 
 
 Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my 
 doublet and hose? — \Vhat did lie, when thou saw'st 
 him ? What said he ? How look'd he ? Wherein 
 went he? What makes he here? Did he ask fui 
 me ? Where remains he ? How parted he witli tliee? 
 and when shalt thou see hiiu again ? Answer me 
 one word. 
 
 Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's moutli 
 first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth ol tliis 
 age's size : To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, 
 is more than to answer in a catecliism. 
 
 Ros. Bat doth he know that I am in this fciest, 
 and in man s apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he old 
 the day he wiestHed? 
 
 Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resol\e 
 tlie propositions of a lover: — but take a ti'ste ot my 
 finding hiiu, and relish it with a good observance. 
 I found him under a tree, like a droup'd acorn. 
 
 Ros. ll limy well be call'd Jove's tree, wiien il 
 drops forth such fruit. 
 
 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Ros. Proceed. 
 
 Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wnuntled 
 knight. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 17T 
 
 Ros. Though it be pity to see such a siglit, it well 
 becomes tiie ground. 
 
 Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tonf<iie, I pr'ythee; it 
 curvets very unseasonably. He was furnisli'd like 
 a hiinter. 
 
 Ros. O ominous ! he cojiies to kill my heart. 
 
 Cel. I would sing my song witliout a burden : 
 thou briiig'st me out of tune. 
 
 Ros. Do you not know I am tt woman '! when I 
 think, I mu.st speak. Sweet, say on. 
 
 Enter Orlando and Jaques. ' 
 
 Cel. You bring me out ; — Soft I conses he not here ? 
 
 Rus. 'Tis lie ; slink by, and note him. 
 
 {Celia and Rosalind retire.) 
 
 Jaq. I thank you for your cump.iny; but, good 
 faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. 
 
 Orl. And so had 1 ; but yet, for fashion's sake, I 
 thank you too for your society. [can. 
 
 Jaq. God be with you ; lets meet as little as we 
 
 Orl. 1 do desire we may be better strangers. 
 
 Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing 
 love-songs in tiieir barks. 
 
 Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with 
 reading them ill-favouredly. 
 
 Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name? 
 
 Orl. Yes, just. 
 
 Jaq. I do not like her name. 
 
 Orl. Tliere was no thought of pleasing you, when 
 siie wiis ci.risten'd. 
 
 Jaq. What stature is slie of? 
 
 Orl. Just as high as my heart. 
 
 Jaq. You are full ol pretty answers : Have you 
 not been ac<iui\iiited with goldsmiths' wives, and 
 ccnn'd them out of rings V' 
 
 Orl. Not so ; but 1 answer you right painted 
 cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. 
 
 Jaq. You h;ive a nimble wit; I tliink it was made 
 of Atalaiita's heels. Will you sit down with iiie :' 
 and we tvvo will rail against our mistress the world, 
 and all our misery. 
 
 Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but 
 uiyseif ag:iiust whom I know most faiiks. 
 
 Jaq. Toe worst fault you have, is to be in love. 
 
 Orl. "Tis a fault I will not change for your best 
 virtue. 1 am weary of you. 
 
 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when 
 I louiid you. 
 
 Orl. He is drown'd in the brook ; look but in, 
 and you shall see him. 
 
 Jaq. Tliere shall I see mine own figure. 
 
 Orl. Which I take to be either a tool, or a cypher. 
 
 Jaq. i"il tarry no longer with you : farewell, good 
 signior love. 
 
 Orl. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good 
 monsieur melancholy. [tvard. 
 
 Exit Jaques. — Celia and Rosalind come for- 
 
 Ros. 1 will speak to him like a saucy lacqiiey, 
 and under tiiat habit play tile knave with him. — 
 Do you hear, forester? 
 
 Orl. Very well ; what would you ? 
 
 Ros. 1 pray you, what is't o'clock ? 
 
 Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's 
 no clock in the iijrest. 
 
 Ros. 'i'hen there is no true lover in tlw forest ; 
 else sighing every minute, and groaning e\ery hour, 
 would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. 
 
 Orl. And why not the swift foot of time ? had not 
 that been as proper'? 
 
 Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers 
 paces with divers persons: I'D tell you who time 
 ambles witiial, who time trots witiial, who time 
 gallops withal, and who he stands still witiial. 
 
 Orl. [ pr'ytnee, who doth he trot withal? 
 
 Ros. Marry, he trots hard witli a young maid, 
 
 between ihr- contract of her marriage, and the day 
 
 it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, 
 
 time's pace is so hard, tiiat it seems the length of 
 
 even years. 
 
 Orl. Who ambles time withal t 
 
 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rlrh 
 man that hath not the gout : for the one sleeps 
 easily, because he cannot study ; and the other live.s 
 merrily, because he feels no pain : the one lacking 
 tiie burden of lean and wasteful learning ; the other 
 knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury : These 
 tune ambles withal. 
 
 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 
 Ros. With a thief to tiie gallows : for though he 
 go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too 
 soon there. 
 
 Orl. Who stays it still withal ? 
 Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for they sleep 
 between term and term, and then tliey perceive not 
 how time moves. 
 
 Orl. Wiiere dwell you, pretty youth? 
 Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in 
 the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat 
 Orl. Are you native of this place ? 
 Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where she 
 is kindled. 
 
 Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could 
 purchase in so removed a dwelling. 
 
 Ros. I have been told so of many : but, indeed, 
 an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 
 who was in his youth an inland man ; one that 
 knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. 
 I have heard him read many lectuies against it; and 
 I thank God I am not a woman, to he touch d with 
 so many giddy ofi'ences as he hath generally tax'd 
 their whole sex withal. 
 
 Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils, 
 that he laid to the charge of women? 
 
 Ros. There were none principal; they were all 
 like one another, as h:tlf pence are : every one fault 
 seeming moastrous, till his (ellow fault came to 
 match it. 
 
 Orl. I pry'thee, recount some of them. 
 Ros. No ; I uill not cast away my physic, but 
 on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the 
 ibrest, that abuses our young plants with carving 
 Rosalind on their barks ; hangs odes upon haw- 
 thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, 
 deifying the name of Rosalind : if I could meet 
 that lancynionger, 1 would give him some good 
 counsel, tor he seems to have the quotidian of love 
 upon him. 
 
 Orl. I am he that is so love snaked ; I pray you 
 tell me your remedy. 
 
 Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you : 
 he taught me how to know a man in love ; in which 
 cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. 
 Orl. Wiiat were his marks ? 
 Ros. A lean cheek ; which you have not : a blue 
 eye, and sunken ; which you have not : an unques- 
 tionable Sjirit; which you have not : a beard neg- 
 lected ; which you have not : — but I pardon you for 
 that ; for, simply, your hai ing in beard is a younger 
 brother's revenue : — Then your hose should be un- 
 garter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbut- 
 ton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about yon 
 demonstrating a careless desolation. Qui you are 
 no such man; you are ratlier point-de-vice in your 
 accoutrements ; as loving yourself, than seeming 
 the lover of any other. 
 
 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee be- 
 lieve I love. % 
 
 Ros. Me believe it ? you may as soon make her 
 that you love believe it; which I warrant, she is 
 apter to do, than to confess she does : that is one of 
 the points, in the which vyomen still give the lie to 
 their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he 
 that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosa- 
 lind is so admired ? 
 
 Orl. I swear to tiiee, youth, by the white hand of 
 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 
 
 Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes 
 
 speak ? [much. 
 
 Orl. Neitlier rhyme nor reason can express how 
 
 Ros. Love is mereiy a madness ; and, I tell vou, 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act III 
 
 «1ps«Tves as well a dark house and a whip, as mad- 
 Ditf'.i (to: and the reason why they are not so | u- 
 nisiietl and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, 
 tliat tlie wuippers are in love too : Yet 1 profess 
 curing it by counsel. 
 
 Orl. D.iJ you ever cure any so? 
 
 Rus. Ves, one ; and in tins manner. He was to 
 ini.igine nie liis love, his mistress; and I set him 
 every day to woo me : at which time would I, 
 being hut a nioonish youtii, grieve, be ^ft'eminate, 
 Ciiawgeable, longing, and liking; proud, i'antastical, 
 ajjiMi, shallow, inconstant, lull of tears, lull of 
 Smiles; lor every passion something, and for no 
 passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for 
 the most part cattle of this colour : would now like 
 bun, now loath him ; tlien entertain hiin, then for- 
 svvtiir him ; now weep lor liim, then spit at him ; 
 that 1 (Irave my suitor from his mad humour of love, 
 to a living humour of madness; vvhich was, to for- 
 swear tiie lull stream of the world, and to live in a 
 nook merely monastic : And thus I cured him; 
 and this way will 1 take upon me to wash your liver 
 as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall 
 not be one spot of love int. 
 
 Orl. 1 would not be cured, youth. 
 
 Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me 
 Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo 
 ""■■ [me where it is. 
 
 Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, 1 will; tell 
 
 Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it vou ; and, 
 by die way, y.m shall tell me where in the forest 
 yon live : VVill you go"' 
 
 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :— Come, 
 sister, will you go? [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey; Jaques at a 
 
 distance observing them. 
 
 Touch. Come apace, good Audrey ; I will fetch 
 up your goals, Audrey: And how, Audrey? am I 
 tlif man yet ? Doth my simple feature content you? 
 
 And. Your features ! Lord vvarrant us ! what 
 features? 
 
 Touch.. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the 
 most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was amonir the 
 Gi.ths. 
 
 Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited ! worse than Jove 
 
 in a tnatch'd house ! 
 
 {Aside: 
 
 Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- 
 stood, nor a man's g6od wit seconded with the for- 
 Wiird child, understanding, it strikes a man more 
 dead than a great reckoning in a little room : — 
 ']Vuly, 1 would the gods had made thee poetical. 
 
 Aud. I do not know what poetical is : Is it 
 honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing? 
 
 Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the 
 most feigning; aud lovers are given to poetry ; and 
 what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, 
 'they do leign. 
 
 Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made 
 nie iioetical ? 
 
 7 ouch. I do, truly : for thou swear'st to rae, thou 
 •art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have 
 some hope thou didst feign. 
 
 Aud. Would you not have me honest? 
 
 Touch. No tru^y, unless thou wert hard-favour'd ; 
 ■for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a 
 sauce to sugar. 
 
 Jaq. A material fool ! {Aside.) 
 
 Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray 
 •the nods make me honest ! 
 
 2 ouch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a 
 .foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish. 
 
 Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods 1 
 am tout. 
 
 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness ! 
 
 'iluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it 
 
 Hiay he, 1 wiil marry thee : and to that end, I have 
 
 been with SirOliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next 
 
 village ; who hath promised to meet me in this place 
 of the forest, and to couple us. 
 
 Jnq. I would fain see this nieetius?. [Aside.} 
 
 And. Well, the gods give lis joy ! 
 
 Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fear- 
 ful hea.t, stagger in his attempt; for here we have 
 no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn- 
 beasts. But what though? Courage ! As horns are 
 odious, they are necessary. It is said, — Many a 
 man knows no end of his goods : right : many a 
 man has good horns, and knows no end oi them. 
 Well, that is the dowry of his wile; 'tis none of his 
 
 own getting. Horns? E»en so: Poor men 
 
 -No, no ; the noblest deer hath them as 
 
 huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore 
 blessed ? No : as a wall'd town is more worthier 
 than a village, so is the forehead of a married man 
 more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor : 
 and by how much defence is belter than no skill, by 
 so much is a horn more precious than to want. 
 
 Enter Sir Oliver Mar -text. 
 Here comes sir Oliver : Sir Oliver Martext, you are 
 well met: Will you despatch ns here under this 
 tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ! 
 
 Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? 
 
 Touch. 1 will not take her on gii't of any man. 
 
 Sir Oil. Truly slie must be given, or the marriage 
 is not lawful. 
 
 Jaq. [Discovering hitnself.) Proceed, proceed, 
 I'll give her. 
 
 Touch. tJood even, good master What ye caltt . 
 How do you, sir? You are very well met. God'ild 
 you for your last company : I am very glad to see 
 you: — Even a toy in hand here, sir: — Nay, pray 
 be cover'd. 
 
 Jaq. Will you be married, motley? 
 
 Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his 
 curb, and the faulcon her bells, .so man hath his de- 
 sires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 
 nibbling. 
 
 Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, 
 be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to 
 church, and have a good priest, that can tell you 
 what marriage is : this fellow will but join you to- 
 gether <as they join wainscot; then one of you will 
 prove a shrunk pannel, and, hke green timber, warp, 
 warp. 
 
 Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better 
 to be married of him than of another: for he is not 
 like to marry me well ; and not being well married, 
 it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave 
 my wife. _ [Aside.) 
 
 Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
 
 Touch. Come, sweet Audrey ; 
 We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. 
 Farewell, good master Oliver ! 
 
 Not — O sweet Oliver, 
 O brave Oliver, 
 Leave me not behi' thee ; 
 But — Wind away. 
 Begone, I say, 
 I will not to wedding wi' thee. 
 {Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. 
 
 Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave 
 of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV — The same. Before a cottage. 
 Enter RosAUND and Celia. 
 
 Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep. 
 
 Cel. Do, I pr'ytKee; but yet have the grace W 
 consider, that tears do not become a man. 
 
 Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? 
 
 Cel. As good i;ause as one would desire; th"^iv- 
 fore weep. 
 
 Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. 
 
 Cel. Something browner than Judas s : marry, h\* 
 kisses are Judas's own children. 
 
 Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 179 
 
 Cel, An eif.ellent colour : your chesniit was ever 
 t!ie only colour. 
 
 Ros. \\m\ his kissing is as full of sanctity as the 
 toiH'li ofiuily bread. 
 
 Cel. He liiitli bunglit n pair of cast lips of Diana : 
 a nun ot winter's sistei liooil kisses nut more reli- 
 giously ; tiie very ice (if cliastity is in tliein. 
 
 iZoA'. But wliy dill he swear he would come this 
 niornint;, and comes not .'' 
 
 Cel Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. 
 
 Ros. Do you think so ? 
 
 C'e/. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a 
 horse-steaU-r ; but for his verily in love, I do think 
 him ds concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-eaten 
 not. 
 
 Ros. Not true in love ? 
 
 Cel. Yes, wiien he is in ; but, I think he is not in. 
 
 Ros. Vou have heard him swear downright, he 
 was. 
 
 Cel. ^Vas is not is : besides, the oath of a lover 
 is MO stronj^er tlian the word of a tapster; they are 
 both the coiitirmers of false reckonings. He attends 
 here in the forest on the duke your father. 
 
 Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much 
 question with liira: he asked me, of what parentage 
 1 was i I told him, of as good as he ; so he laugli'd, 
 and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when 
 there is such a man as Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave 
 verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, 
 and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart 
 the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his 
 horse but on one side, breaks his staft'like a noble 
 goose : but all s brave, that youth mounts, and folly 
 guides : — Who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Corin. 
 
 Cor. Mistress, and master, you iiave oft inquired 
 After the shepherd, that complain'd of love; 
 Who you saw sitting by nie on the turf. 
 Praising tlie pioud disdainful shepherdess, 
 That was his mistress. 
 
 Cel. Well, and what of him? 
 
 Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play d. 
 Between tiie pale complexion of true love 
 And tlie red glow of scorn and proud disdain. 
 Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you. 
 If vou will mark it. 
 
 Ros. O conie, let us remove ; 
 
 The Miglit ol loiers feedetli those in love ; — 
 Bring us unto t.iis sight, and you shall say 
 ril prove a busy actur in tiieir play. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V, — Another part of the Forest. 
 Enter SiLVius and Phebe, 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, 
 
 Phebe : 
 Say, thnt you love me not ; but say not so 
 In bitterness : The common executioner. 
 Whose heart the accustoin'd sight of death makes 
 
 hard, 
 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, 
 But first begs pardon ; Will you sterner be 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, ««</ Corin, at a distance. 
 
 Phe. I would not be thy executioner; 
 I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
 Thou tell'st me. there is murder in mine eye : 
 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, 
 TliHt eyes, — that are the frail'st and softest things, 
 Whi> shut their coward gates on atomies,— 
 Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers I 
 Now 1 do frown on thee with all my heart ; 
 And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill 
 
 trtee ; 
 Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down ; 
 Or, if thou can'st not, O, for shame, ("or shame. 
 Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : 
 Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
 
 Some scar of it ; lean bnt upon a rnsh, 
 
 The cicatrice and capable impressure 
 
 Thy palm some iiiometit keeps : but now mine eyes, 
 
 W hich I have dai ted at tliee, hurt thee not ; 
 
 Nir, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
 
 riiat can do hurt. 
 
 Sil. O dear Phebe. 
 
 If ever, (as that ever may be near,) 
 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy. 
 Then shall you know the wounds invisible, 
 That love's keen arrows make. 
 
 Phe. But, till that time. 
 
 Come not thou near me : and when that time comes, 
 Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; 
 As. till that time, 1 shall not pity thee. 
 
 Ros. And why, I pray \ou? {Advancing.) Who 
 might be your mother, 
 That you insult, exult, and all at once, 
 Over the wretched '( What though you have more 
 
 beauty, 
 (As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 Than without candle may go dark to bed,) 
 Must you be therefore proud aiid pitiless ? 
 Wliy, what means this ? Why do you look on me ? 
 I see no more in you, than in the ordinary 
 Of nature's sale-work : — Od's my little life ! 
 I think, she means to tangle my eyes too: 
 No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 
 'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, 
 \ our bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream 
 That can entame my spirits to your worship. — 
 V ou foolish shepherd, wherelore do you follow her. 
 Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? 
 You are a thousand times a properer man, 
 Than she a woman : 'Tis such Ibols as you, 
 That make the world full of ill-favour'd children: 
 ''J'is not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
 And out of you .she sees herself more proper, 
 Than any of her lineaments can show her. — 
 But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees, 
 And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : 
 For I must tell you friendly in your ear, — 
 Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets : 
 Cry the man mercy; love him; take his of^er; 
 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
 So, take her to thee, shepherd : — fare yon well. 
 
 Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- 
 gether ; 
 I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. 
 
 Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and 
 she'll fall in love with my anger: if it be so, as fast 
 as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce 
 her with bitter words. — Why look you .so upon me ? 
 
 Phe. For no ill will I hear you. 
 
 Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me. 
 For I am fal.ser than vows made in wine : 
 Besides, I like you not : if you will know ray house, 
 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : — 
 Will yon go, sister ? — Shepherd, ply her hard : 
 Come, sister. — Shepherdess, look on him better, 
 And be net proud : though all the world could see 
 None could be so abus'd in sight as he. 
 Come, to our flock. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind. Celia, and Corin. 
 
 Phe. Dear shepherd ! now I find thy saw of 
 might ; 
 Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight? 
 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, — 
 
 Phe. Ha ! vvhat say'st thou, Silvius '? 
 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
 
 Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 
 
 Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; 
 If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
 By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
 Were both extermined. 
 
 Phe. Thou hast my love ; is not that neighbourly? 
 
 Sil. I would have ycu. 
 
 Phe. Why, that were coTetonsness. 
 
 Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee ; 
 And yet it is not, that I bear thee love J 
 
180 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 But since that tnou canst talk of love so well, 
 Triv company, wliich erst was irksome to me, 
 i wiii endure ; and I'll employ thee too : 
 B.J. do .-.ci look lor fiirtliir lecoiiipense, 
 Than thine own sladiiess (hat thou art employ 'd. 
 
 Sil. Sl) holy, ami so perit-ct is my lo\e, 
 And 1 in such a po\erty ol' grace, 
 That 1 shall think it a must plenteous crop 
 To glean the broken ears alter the man 
 That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
 A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. 
 
 P/ie. Know'st thou tlie youth that spoke (o me 
 ere while '•! 
 
 Sil. Not \eiy well, but I have met him olt ; 
 And he hath bought the cottage and tlie bounds, 
 That the old carlol once was master of. 
 
 P/ie. Tliink not I lov e him, tliough 1 ask for him ; 
 'Tis but a peevish boy : — yet he talks well ; — 
 But what care I for words ;' yet words do well. 
 When he, that speaks them, pleases those that liear. 
 It is a pretty youth : — not very pretty : — 
 But, sure, lie's proud ; and yet his pride becomes 
 
 liiui : 
 He'll make a proper man : The best thing in him 
 Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue 
 Did make oft'ence, his eye did heal it up. 
 He IS not tall ; yet tor his years he's tall : 
 His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip; 
 A little riper and mure lusty red 
 Than that niix'd in his clieek ; 'twas just the dif- 
 ference 
 Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
 Thftre be some women, Silvias, had they mark'd 
 
 him 
 In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
 To iail in love with him : but, lor my part, 
 I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet 
 1 have moie cause to hate him tlian to love him : 
 For what had he to do to chide at me "' 
 He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black ; 
 And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me : 
 I marvel, why I answer'd not again: 
 But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
 Ill write to him a very taunting letter. 
 And thuu shalt bear it VV ilt thon, Silvius? 
 
 Sil. Ptiebe, with all my heart. 
 
 P/if. I'll write it straight ; 
 
 The matter's in my head, and in my heart : 
 I will he bi'aer with him, and passing short : 
 Go with uie, tjijvius. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. — T/ie same. 
 Etiler Rosalind, Celia, rw^.lAQiEs. 
 
 Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better 
 acqiiamted with thee. 
 
 Jios. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 
 
 Jaq. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing. 
 
 Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are 
 abominable fellows ; and betray themselves to every 
 modern censure, worse than drunkards. 
 
 Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 Jios. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 
 
 Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, 
 which is emulation ; nor (he musician's, v.hich is 
 fanlastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor 
 the soldier's, which is anibilious ; nor the lawyer's, 
 which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor 
 the lover's, which is all these : but it is a melancholy 
 of mine own, roinpounded of many simples, extracted 
 from many objects ; and, i.ideed, the sniidry con- 
 templation oj' my travefs in which my often rumin- 
 ation wraps me, is a most humorous sadness. 
 
 lios. A traveller! By iny faiih, you have great 
 rea-i«u to he sad: I fear, you have sold your own 
 lands, to see other men's ; then, to have seen much, 
 iind to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor 
 LanriH. 
 
 Ja^. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
 
 Enter Orlando. 
 
 IJos. And your experience makes you sad f bail 
 rat!.er have a fool to make me merry, tfian expe- 
 rience t.> make me sad ; and to travel for it too. 
 
 Orl. Good day, nnd hap|)iness, dear Rosalind .' 
 
 Jaq. Nay then, God be vvi' you, an you talk ir. 
 blank verse. [Exit. 
 
 Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller : Look, you 
 lisp, and wear strange sui's ; disable all the bene- 
 fits of your own country ; be out of love with your 
 n itivity, and almost chide Gdd for making you that 
 coimtenaiiCe you are ; or I vviil scarce think yon have 
 swam in a gondola. — Why, how now, Orlando! 
 wliere have yon bt-m all this while? \ ou a lover 'r* 
 — An yon si rve me such a:iolher trick, never come 
 in my sight moie. 
 
 Orl. My fair Kosalind, I come within an hour of 
 my promise. ■ 
 
 Jlus. Break an hour's promise in love ? He that 
 will divide a minute info a thousand parts, and 
 break but a part of the thoiisandlh part of a minute 
 in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that 
 Cupid hatli claiip'd hiiu o' the shoulder, but I warrant 
 him heaitwhole. 
 
 Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 
 
 Sos. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in 
 mv sight : I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. 
 
 'Orl. Of a snail':" 
 
 Bos. Ay, of a snail ; for though he comes slowly, 
 he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, 
 I think, than you can make a woman : besides, he 
 brings his destiny with him. 
 
 Orl. What's that ? 
 
 Ros. N\ hy, horns ; which such as you are fain to 
 be beholden to your wives for : but he comes 
 armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of I. is 
 wife. [virtuous. 
 
 Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is 
 
 Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a 
 Rosalind of a better leer than you. 
 
 Ros. Come, woo me, woo me ; for novv I am in 
 a holiday humour, and like enough to consent : — 
 What would you say to me now, an I were your 
 very Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I would kiss, before J spoke. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you were better speak first ; and when 
 yciu vveie gravelled for lack of matler, you might 
 lake occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when 
 they are out, they will spit; and lor lovers, lacking 
 (Ciod warn us !) matter, the cleanliest shift is to Lisa. 
 
 Orl. How if the kiss be denied '? 
 
 Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
 begins new matter. [mistress ? 
 
 Orl. Who could be ont, being before his beloved 
 
 Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your 
 mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker than 
 my wit. 
 
 OrL What, of my suit ? 
 
 Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your 
 suit. Am not 1 your Rosalind ? 
 
 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I 
 would be talking of her. [you. 
 
 Ros. Well, in her person, I say, I will not have 
 
 Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. 
 
 Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world 
 is almost six thousand vears old, and in all this time 
 there was not any man died in his own person, vide- 
 licet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed 
 out with a Grecian club . yet he did what he couli 
 to die before; and he is one of the patterns of love. 
 Leundrr, he would have lived many a fair year, 
 though Hero had turned nun, if it had not betn for 
 a hot midsummer night : for, good youth, he went 
 but forth to wash iiim in the iieilespoiit, and, 
 beini taken with the cramp, was di owned ; and the 
 foolish chroni<lers ol that age found it was—Hero 
 01 Sestos. But these are all lies; men have diea 
 from time to ti.iie, and worms have eaten theoi, bul 
 not for love. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 181 
 
 Orl. I would not have my right Rosiilind of this 
 ouind ; fir, 1 protf.st, her Irowii niislit kill me. 
 
 Riis. By this liiiiui, it will not kill w (ly : Hut 
 come, now 1 will be your iiosiiliiid in a more 
 coming -on disposition; and ask me what you will, 
 
 will grant it. 
 
 Orl. Tiieii love me, Rosalind. 
 
 lius. \*'s, faith will I, Fridays and Satnrdays, 
 
 Orl. And wilt thoii ha'. e nie i [and all. 
 
 Hot;. Ay, and twenty snch. 
 
 Orl. What say's* then? 
 
 Rus. Are you uotjjood i 
 
 Orl, I Ii0|>e so. 
 
 lion. Why then, can one desire too much of a good 
 tliiiii; ' — Come, sister, yon shall he tiie priest, and 
 marry us. — (ii\e me your hand, Orlando: — What do 
 you siiy, sister i 
 
 Orl. I'ray thee, marry us. 
 
 (V/. I cannot say the words. 
 
 lio.i. \ wi must hegin, Will you, Orlando, — 
 
 CfL (io to : Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
 
 Orl. 1 Mill. [this Rosalind? 
 
 Hon. .■\y, but when? 
 
 Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. 
 
 Ros. 'I'hen you must say, — / lake thee, Rosalind, 
 I'or irij'f. 
 
 Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wiie. 
 
 /«(«. i mii;ht ask you for your commission; but, 
 — I do take thee, Orlando, (or my husband : There 
 a K'rl goes before tiie priest : and, certainly, a 
 woman's thought runs belore her actions. 
 
 Orl. Si) do all thoughts : they are winged. 
 
 Ros. Now tf 11 me, how Jong yon would have her, 
 aftt-r you ha»e possessed her. 
 
 Orj. For ever, and a day. 
 
 {{on. Say a <lay, without the ever : No, no, Or- 
 lando; men are .April when they woo, December 
 when they wed; 'maids are May when they are 
 inai(U, but the sky changes when they are wives. I 
 will be more jealous of thee than a Jiarbary cock- 
 jjigeoii o\er his hen; in.ire clamorous than a parrot 
 against mill ; more new fangled than an a[)e ; more 
 giddy in my desires than a monkey : i will weep 
 <(ir untiling, like Diana in the fountain, and I will 
 do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will 
 laii:;li like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined 
 to sleep. 
 
 Orl. Hut will my ilosalind do so? 
 
 Jtii.'i. By my life, she will do as 1 do. 
 
 Orl. O. but siie is wise. 
 
 Ru.^. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
 this: the wiser, the waywarder : Make the doors 
 ii|ioii a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement ; 
 shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole ; stop that, 
 'twill lly with the smoke out at the ciiiuiney 
 
 Orl. A man, that had a wife with such a wit, he 
 niiL;lit say, — TVit, wltUlier, wilt .^ 
 
 Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till 
 Vou met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's 
 bed. [ihat? 
 
 Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse 
 
 Ro'i. .Marry, to say, — she came to seek you there. 
 Voii shall never take her without her answer, unless 
 you take her w ilhoiit her tongue. O, that woman 
 tint raimot make her fault her husbaiid's occasiori, 
 let her never nurse her child herself, for she will 
 bret-d it like a fool. [thee. 
 
 Orl l'"or tiiese two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
 
 Ros. Alas, dear lo^e, I cannot lack thee two hours. 
 
 Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two 
 o'clock I will be with thee again. 
 
 Jtos. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; — I knew 
 what you would pro\e ; my friends told me as much, 
 and i tliiiuglit no less: — that flattering tongue of 
 yours won me : — 'tis Ijut one cast away, and so, — 
 come, death. — 'I'wo o'clock is your hour? 
 
 Orl. Ay, sweet liosalind. 
 
 Ro.s Hv my t:oth, and in good earnest, and so 
 God iiieiia me, and by ail pretty oatlis, that are not 
 danyerous, if you break one jot of your promise, 
 
 or come one minute behind your hour, 1 vi!l think 
 you the iiinst |iathttical break-promise, and the most 
 hollow hntr, and llie most unvvorlliy other yon call 
 Rosalind, tlint may be chosen out of the gross band 
 of tlie unfaitliiul : tiierefore, beware my censure, and 
 keep your promise. 
 
 Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert in- 
 deed my Rosalind : so, adieu. 
 
 Ros. Well, time is the old justice, that examine!) 
 all snch olFenders, and let time try ; .Adieu! 
 
 [Exit Orlando. 
 
 Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your 
 love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose 
 plucked over your head, and shew the world what 
 the bird hath doue to her own nest. 
 
 Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
 thou didst know how many fathom deep 1 am in 
 love ! But it cannot be sounded ; my affection hath 
 an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 
 
 Cel. Or rather bottondess; that as fast as you 
 pour alfection in, it runs out. 
 
 Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, 
 that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen; and 
 born of madness ; that blind rascally boy, that abuses 
 evcry^ine's eyes, because his own are out, let him 
 be judge, h<»w deep J. am in love : — III tell thee, 
 Aliena, I cannot be out of the sigiit of Orlando : I'll 
 go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. 
 
 Cel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another part of the Forest. 
 Enter J XQVUS and Lords, in ike habit of Foresters. 
 Jan. Which is he that killed the deer? 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, it was I. 
 
 Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman 
 conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's 
 horns upon his head, for a branch of victory : — Have 
 you no song, forester, for this purpose ? 
 
 2 Lord. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so 
 it make noise enough. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1. What shall he have that kiHd the deerl 
 
 2. His leather skin and horns to wear. 
 
 1. Then siny him home : 
 Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn ; \ Tlie rest 
 It luas a crest, ere thou wast horn, f shall hear 
 
 1. Thy father s father wore it ; ithis bur- 
 
 2. And thy father bore it : J den. 
 All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn. 
 
 Is not a thintj to laugh to scorn. 
 
 Scene WL— The Forest. 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 Rus. How say you novv ? Is it not past two 
 o'clock ? And here much Orlando! 
 
 Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and tioiiiiled 
 brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone 
 forth — to sleep : — Look, who comes here. 
 
 Enter SiLvius. 
 
 Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ; — 
 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 
 
 [Giinng a letter.) 
 I know not the contents; but, as I guess. 
 By the stern brow and waspish action 
 Which she did use as s\w was writing of it, 
 It bears an angry tenmir. pard m me, 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 Roe. Patience herself would startle at this letter, 
 .And play the swaggerer; bear (his, bear all : 
 She says I am not fair; that 1 lack manners . '\n» 
 She calls me proud; and, that she could not \o\« 
 Were man as rare as phnenix ; Od's my will ! 
 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : 
 Why writes she so to me? — Well, shepherd w»54 
 This is a letter of your own deiice. 
 
 Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contPt\*»i, 
 Phebe did write it. 
 
182 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Hos, Come, come, yon are a fool, 
 
 And turn'd into the extremity of love. 
 I saw her hand : she lias a leathern hanrl, 
 A freestone-coloiird hand ; I verily did think; 
 That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; 
 She has a huswife's hand ; b'lt that's no matter : 
 I say, she never did invent this letter; 
 This is a man's invention, and his hand. 
 Sil. Sure, it is hers. 
 
 Hon. Why, 'tis a boisterous and crnel style, 
 A style for challengers; why, she defies me, 
 Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain 
 Could not drop (bith such giant rude invention. 
 Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect 
 Than in their countenance ; — Will you hear the 
 letter? 
 Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
 Vet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. [vvrites. 
 
 Ros. She Phebes me : Mark how the tyrant 
 Art thou yod to shepherd tiirnd, [Reads.) 
 That a maiden s heart hath burnd! 
 Can a woman rail tlius :* 
 
 Sil. Cull you this railing? 
 
 Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
 
 Warrst thou with a tvoman's heart ? 
 Did you ever hear such railing? — 
 
 Whiles the eye of /nan did woo me, 
 That could do nu vengeance to me. — 
 Meaning me a beasf. — 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne 
 Have power to raise such love in mine, 
 Hack, in me ivhat strange effect 
 Woidd they work in mild aspect f 
 JVhiles you chid me, I did love ; 
 How the7i migJd your prayers move ( 
 He, that brings this love to thee, 
 JLittle knoivs this love in me : 
 And by him seal up thy mind; 
 f^hether that thy youth and kind 
 TT'ill the faithful offer take 
 Of me, and all that I can make ; 
 Or else by him my love deny. 
 And then III study how to die. 
 Sil. Call you this chiding? 
 Cel. Alas, poor shepherd ! 
 
 Ros. Do you pity him ^ no, he deserves no pity. — 
 Wilt thou love such a woman? — VVhat, to make 
 thee an instriunent, and play false strains upon thee ! 
 not to be endured 1 — Well, go your way to her, (for 
 I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) and say 
 this to her : — That if she lo\ e me, I charge her to 
 love thee : if she will not, I will never have her, 
 unless tiiou entreat for her. — If you be a true lover, 
 hence, and not a word ; for here comes more com- 
 pany. [Exit Silvius. 
 
 Enter Oliver. 
 
 on. Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you 
 know 
 Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands 
 A sheep cote, iVnc'd about with olive-trees i 
 
 Cel. West of this jilace, down in the neighbour 
 bottom. 
 The rank of osirrs, by the murmuring stream. 
 Left on your right hand, brinjfs you to the place : 
 But at this hour the house dotli keep itsell'. 
 There's none within. 
 
 Oli. It Uiat an eye may profit by a tongue. 
 Then 1 should know you by description 
 Such garments, and such years: The boy is Fair, 
 Of female favour, aiid bestows himself 
 Jjike a ripe sister ; hut the woman lota. 
 And browner than her brother. Are not you 
 The owner of llie tnjn.se 1 did inquire ti)r ? 
 
 Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to s;iy, we aie. 
 
 Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both ; 
 And to that youth, he calls liis Rosjiind, 
 Ke sends this b'oody napkin : Are you lie ? 
 
 Ros. I a:n : wliat must we understand by this? 
 
 Oil. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me 
 What man I am. and how, and why, and where 
 This handkerchief was stain'd. 
 
 Cel. 1 pray you, tell it 
 
 Oli- When last the young Orlando parted fnin 
 He left a promise to return again [you 
 
 Within an hour; and pacing tlirough the forest. 
 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 
 Lo, what befel ! he threw bis eye aside, 
 And, mark, what object did present itself! 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 A wretched ragged man, o'ergrowu with hair. 
 Lay sleeping on bis back : about his neck 
 A green and gilded snake had wreathd itself. 
 Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd 
 The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself. 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 Into a bush : under which bush's shade, 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch^ 
 Wlien that tlie sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis 
 The royal disposition of that beast, 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead : 
 Tliis seen, Orlando did approach the man. 
 And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
 
 Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that saime 
 brother; 
 And he did render him the most unnatural. 
 That li\ed 'inongst men. 
 
 Oli. And well be i3>iglit so do 
 
 For well I know he was unnatural. 
 
 Ros. But, to Orlando ; — Did he leave him there. 
 Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? 
 
 Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed so : 
 But kindness, nobler ever than revenge. 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion. 
 Made him give battle to the lioness. 
 Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling 
 From miserable slumber I awak'd. 
 
 Cel. Are you his brother? 
 
 Ros. Was it you he rescued? 
 
 Cel. Was't you, that did so oft contrive ti) kill 
 him ? 
 
 Oli. 'Twas I : but 'tis not I : I do not shame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing 1 am. 
 
 Ros. But, for the bloody napkin? — 
 
 Oli. By and by 
 
 When from the first to last, betwixt us two. 
 Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd. 
 As, how I came into that desert place; 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke. 
 Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment, 
 Comnutting me unto my brother's love; 
 Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
 There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 
 Tlie lioness had torn some flesh away. 
 Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted. 
 And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
 Brief, 1 recover'd him; bound up his wound; 
 And, after some small space, being strong at heart. 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am. 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin. 
 Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth 
 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ? sweet Gany- 
 mede ? [Rosalind faints.) 
 
 Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on Ijlood 
 
 Cel. Tliere is more in it: — cousin — Ganymede! 
 
 Oli. Look, he recovers. 
 
 Ros. I would, I were at home. 
 
 Cel. We'll lead you thither : — 
 I pray you, will you take him by the arm? 
 
 Oh. Be of good cheer, youth: — Y'ou a man?— 
 You lack a man's heart. 
 
 Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a hoily would 
 think this was well counterfeited : 1 pray vdu. tell 
 
Act V. Scene 2. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 183 
 
 I 
 
 our lirother how well I counterfeited. — Heigh 
 
 on. This was not counterfeit ; tliere is too p:reat 
 testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion 
 of earnest. 
 
 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
 
 0/i. Well then, take a good heart, and counter- 
 feit to be a man. 
 
 Ros. So I do : but i'faith, I should have been a 
 ivoman by right. 
 
 Ce!. Come, you look paler and paler ; pray you, 
 draw homewards : — Good sir, go with us. 
 
 Oli. 'lliiit will I, for I must bear answer back 
 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 
 
 Rog. I shall devise sometliing; but, I pray you, 
 commend my counterfeiting to him: — Will you go? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 fouc/i. We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience, 
 gentle Audrey. 
 
 Aud. 'Faith, the priest Was good enough, for all 
 the old gentleman's saying. 
 
 Touc/i. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a most 
 vile Mar text. But, Audrey , there is a youth here 
 in the ibrest lays claim to you. 
 
 And. Ay, I know who 'tis ; he hath no interest in 
 me in the world : here comes the man you mean. 
 
 Enter William. 
 
 Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. 
 By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to 
 answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. 
 
 ff^ill. Giiod even, Audrey. 
 
 Aud. God ye good even, William. 
 
 fViU. kxv\ good even to you, sir. 
 
 Touch, (iood even, gentle friend : cover thy 
 head, cover thy head : nay, prithee, be covered. 
 How old nre you, friend ? 
 
 ffill. Five and twenty, sir. 
 
 Touch. A ripe age : is thy name William ? 
 
 TFdI. William, sir. [here ? 
 
 Touch. A fair name : Wast born i' the Ibrest 
 
 Will. Ay. sir, I thank God. 
 
 Touch. Thank God; — a good answer: art rich? 
 
 Will. 'Faith, sir, so so. 
 
 Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent 
 good : — and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou 
 
 TVill. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. [wise? 
 
 Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now re- 
 member a saying ; The fool doth think he is wise, 
 but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. I'lie 
 heatiien phiU)sopher, when he had a desire to eat a 
 grape, would open his lips when he put it into his 
 mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to 
 cat, and lips to open. You do love this maid ? 
 
 Will. I do, sir. 
 
 Touch. Give me your hand: art thou learned? 
 
 Will. No, sir. 
 
 Touch. Then learn this of me: to have, is to 
 have: for it is a figure in rhetoric, tliat drink, being 
 poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one 
 doth empty the other: for all your writers do con- 
 sent, th;it ipse is he ; now, you are not ijise, for I am 
 
 ffill. Which he, sir? [he. 
 
 Touch. He, sir, that must marry tiiis woman : 
 tlierefore, you clown, abandoii. — whicii is in the 
 vulgai leave, — the society, — which in the boorish 
 18, company, — of this female, — which in the com- 
 mon is, woman, — which together is, abandon the 
 '* liety of this t'emale ; or, clown, thou perishest; or, 
 'o f|,y better understanding, diest ; to wit, I kill 
 i'lee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, 
 'hy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with 
 thee, r in bastinado, or in steel : I will bandy with 
 thee faction; I will o'er-rnn thee with p licy ; I 
 will k II thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore 
 tremble, and depart. 
 
 Aud. Do, good William. 
 
 ff^ill. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Corin. 
 
 Cor. Our master and mistress seek you ; come, 
 away, away. 
 
 Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey: — ! attend, 
 I attend. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene TI. — The same. 
 Enter Orlando and Oliver. 
 
 Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance 
 you should like her? that, but seeing, you sliould 
 love her ? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should 
 grant? and will you persi'ver to enjoy her? 
 
 Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
 the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my 
 sudden wooing, nor her sudden con.senting ; but 
 say with me, I love Aliena : say with her, tiiat she 
 loves me : consent with both, that we m:iy enjoy 
 each other: it shall be to your good; lor my 
 fither's house, and all the revenue tiiat was old sir 
 Rowland's, will I estate upon you. and lieie live 
 and die a shepherd. 
 
 Enter Rosalind. 
 
 Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding 
 be to-morrow; thither will I in\ite the duke, and 
 all his contented followers: go yon, and prepare 
 Aliena ; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. God save you, brother. 
 
 Oli. And you, fair sister. 
 
 Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to 
 see thee wear thy heart in a scarf. 
 
 Orl, It is my arm. 
 
 Ros. I thought, thy heart had been wounded 
 with the claws of a lion. 
 
 Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
 
 Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
 feited to swoon, when he show'd me your huiid- 
 kerilii^f? 
 
 Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 
 
 Ros. O, I know where you are : — Nay, 'tis true , 
 there was never any thing so sudden, but the flight 
 of tv\'o rams, and Caesar's thrasonical brag of — 7 
 came, saw, and overcame : For your brotlier and 
 my sister no sooner met, but they looked ; no soimer 
 looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they 
 sighed ; no sooner sighed, but they asked one ano- 
 ther the reason; no sooner knew tlie reason, but 
 they sought the remedy : and in these degrees have 
 they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they 
 will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before 
 marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, and 
 thev will together; clubs cannot part them. 
 
 Orl. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will 
 bid the duke to the nuptials. But, O, how bitter a 
 tliini,' it is to look into happiness through another 
 man's eyes ! By so much the more shall I. to-mor- 
 row be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how 
 much I shall think my brother hapi)y, in ha\iug 
 whtt he wishes for. 
 
 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I caanot serve yom 
 turn for Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 
 
 Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idh- 
 talking. Know of me then, (tor now I speak to 
 some purpose,) that I know you are a gentlein iii 
 of good conceit: 1 speak not this, that you should 
 bear a good opinion of my knowleilge, insoniuih, I 
 say, I know you are ; neitliei do I labour lor a 
 greater esteem than may in some little measure 
 draw a belief from you to do yourself good, and 
 not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that 
 I can do strange things : I have, since 1 was ttiree 
 yearsold, conversed v%itli a magiiian, most p'otninid 
 in his art, and yet not damnable. If you lo love 
 Rosalind so near the heart as your gc store cries it 
 out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you 
 marry her: I know into what s'raits ot loituue 
 
184 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if it 
 appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before 
 your eyes to-morrow, liuinan as she is, and without 
 any dinger. 
 
 ()rl. Speakest thou in sober meanings ? 
 
 Ros. By my liie, I do; which I tender dearly, 
 thougli I say 1 am a magician : therefore, put you 
 in your best arrity, bid your friends; for if you will 
 be married to-morrow, you shall ; and to Rosalind, 
 if you will. 
 
 Enter Silvius and Phebe. 
 Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers. 
 
 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, 
 To show the- letter that 1 writ to you. 
 
 Ros. I care not if 1 have: it is my study, 
 To seem despiteful and ungentle to you : 
 You are there follow'd by a faithful sliepherd ; 
 Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 
 
 Phe. Good shepiierd, tell this youth what 'tis to 
 love. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; — 
 And so am T for Phebe. 
 
 P/ie. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And 1 lor Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I lor no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service ;— 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, 
 All made of passion, and all made of vvislies; 
 All adoration, duty and observance. 
 All humbltness, all patience, and impatience, 
 All purity, all trial, all ob.servauce ; — 
 And so am 1 for Phebe. 
 
 Phe, And so am 1 for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phe. If this be so, why blau.e you me to love 
 you? {To Ros ft Unci.) 
 
 Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
 you? [To Phebe.) 
 
 Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ■:' 
 
 Rus. VV ho do you speak to, ivhi/ blame you me 
 to love you ! 
 
 Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. 
 
 Ros. Pray you, no more of this I 'tis like the 
 howling of Irish wolves against the niuon. — 1 will 
 help you, {to Silvius) if I can:— I would love you, 
 {to Phebe) if I could. — To-morrow meet me all to- 
 getlier.— 1 will marry you, {to Phebe) if ever I 
 marry woman, and I'll be married tomorrow: — I 
 will satisfy you, {to Orlando) if ever I satisfied 
 man, and you shall be married tomorrow: — I will 
 content you, {to Silvius) if what pleases you con- 
 tents you, and you shall be married to morrow. — 
 As vou (to Orlando) love Rosalind, meet; — as you 
 {to 'Siivms) io\e Piiebe, meet ;— and as I love no 
 woman, I'll meet. — So, fare you well; 1 have left 
 you coiiiiiiands. 
 
 Sil. ill not fail, if I live. 
 
 Phe. Nor I. 
 
 Orl. Nor I. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 
 Touch. To-mon-ow is the joyful day, Audrey ; 
 tomorrow will we be married. 
 
 Aud. I do desire it with all my heart: and I hope 
 it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of 
 the world. Here comes two of the banished duke's 
 pages. 
 
 , Enter two Patjes. 
 
 1 Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 
 Touch. 13y my troth, well met : Come, sit, sit, 
 and a song. 
 
 2 Page. We are for you: sit i' the middle. 
 
 \ Page. Shall we <;lap intot rouudly, without 
 hawking, or spitting, or sayini; we are ho.irse ; which 
 are the only prologues to a liiid voice t 
 
 2 Page. Ifaith, I'laith; and both in a tune, like 
 two gipsies on a hor.se. 
 
 SONG 
 I 
 
 // was a lover, and his lass, 
 
 With a hey. and a hu, and <i hey nonino. 
 That oer the green rornjieltl did /la.-^.-i. 
 
 In the sitring tiim-, the only iirilhj raid- time. 
 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 
 Sweet lovers love Llie spring. 
 
 II. 
 
 Between the acres of the rye. 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonivo. 
 These pretty vuiinlry folks would Uv, 
 
 in spring time, gfc. 
 
 III. 
 
 This carol t/iey began tliat hour. 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
 Hoiv that a lije was but ajlower 
 
 In spring time, §fc. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And therefore take the present time. 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; 
 
 For love is crowned with the prime 
 In spring time, ^'c. 
 
 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
 was no greater matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
 very nntuneable. 
 
 1 Page. ^ on are deceived, sir; we kei)t time, 
 we lost not our time. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, yes ; I ronnt it but time lost 
 to hear such a foolish song. (Jod be with jou ; and 
 God mend your voices I Come, Andre). \E.xeu)il 
 
 Scene IV. — Another Part of the Forest. 
 
 Enter Duke Senior, .Amiens. Jaqces, Oklanuo, 
 Oliver, <7«(/Celia. 
 
 Duhe S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that (he boy 
 can do all this that he hatii promiseil ? 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; 
 As those that fear they hope, and know tlie\ fear. 
 Enter RosALiNU, SiLVlUS, and PiiKUE. 
 Ros. I'atience once more, whiles our compact ia 
 
 urged : 
 
 You say, if I bring in your Rosalind (To the Duke.) 
 ^ ou will bestow her mi Orlando here? 
 
 Dude S. That would ), had I kingdoms to give 
 with her. 
 
 Ros. And you say, you will have her, when ( 
 bring her? ' {To Orlando.) 
 
 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingiioms king. 
 Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing:' 
 
 {To Phebe.] 
 Phe. That will 1, should I die the hour alter. 
 Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry nie. 
 You'll give yourself to this most faitlifiil shepherd ? 
 Phe. So is the bargain. 
 
 Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she 
 
 will? {To Silvius.) 
 
 Sil. Thoii-h to have her and death were both one 
 
 thing. [even. 
 
 Rus. I have promis'd to make all this matter 
 
 Keep you your word, O duke, to gi\e your 
 
 daughter: — 
 You vours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: — 
 Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me; 
 Or else, refusing me, to wed this slieijiierd : — 
 Kt-ep your word, Silvius, that you'll uiariy her. 
 If she "refuse me : — and from hence I go. 
 To make these doubts all even. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosalind and Ctjlia. 
 
tTs'ShS'-' 
 
 "Tlie iiifUiit, 
 Mewling and puking in tlie nurses arms." 
 
 As You Like It. — Act II., Scene V. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 185 
 
 j)it(-e A'. I do remember in this sTipplierd-boy 
 Some li\rly touches of my daiii;ht('rs linoiir. 
 
 Orl. iMy lord, the first time thnt I ever saw him, 
 IMfthniight he was a brother to your daughter: 
 Hut, my g-iiod lord, this boy is lorest born; 
 And ii;i"lh been tutor'd in the rudiments 
 or many desperate studies by his uncle, 
 Whom he reports to be a great magician. 
 Obscured in tlie circle of this forest. 
 
 E7iter Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 Jaq. Tiiere is, sure, anofiier flood toward, and 
 these couples are coming to the ark ! Here conies 
 a pair (if very strange beasts, which in all tongues are 
 railed (bols. 
 
 Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 
 
 Jcui. Clood my lord, bid him welcome : This is 
 tlie motlfyiuinded gentleman, that I have so often 
 met ill file (brest : he hath been a courtier, he swears. 
 
 'Vouch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to 
 my |Hiri;atiiin. I have trod a measure ; 1 iiave H:it- 
 irred a lady ; I have been politic with my friend, 
 •'iMiKith with mine enemy; I have undone three 
 tiilois; I have had four quarrels, and like to have 
 li light one. 
 
 Jaq. And how was that ta"en up? 
 
 Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was 
 v. on tne seventh cause. 
 
 Jaq. How seventh cause? — Good my lord, like 
 
 Duke. S. I like him very well. [this ft-llow. 
 
 Touch. CJod'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. 
 
 [)ress ill here, sir, amongst the n st of the country 
 copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according 
 as marriage binds, and blood breaks: — A poor 
 viigin, sir, an illtavoured thing, sir, but mine own; 
 .1 poor humour of mine, sir, to take that, that no man 
 else will : rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in 
 '1 poor house; as jour pearl, in your foul oyster. 
 
 Dukt-, S. By my faith, he is very swift and sen- 
 
 tHIitioilS. 
 
 Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such 
 diiicei dise;ises. 
 
 Jan. But, for the seventh cause ; how did ypa find 
 the qiairel on the seventh cause ? 
 
 Touch Upon a lie seven times removed ; — Bear 
 tour body more seeming, Audrey : — as thus. sir. I 
 did disiike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he 
 sent me word, if I said his beard was not out well, 
 he was in the mind it was : This is called the Re- 
 fort courteou.'i. If I sent him word again, it was not 
 well cut, lie would send me word, he cut it to please 
 himself: Tins is called the Quip modest. If again, 
 it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment : 'I'his 
 is oallM the Reply, churlish. If again, it was not 
 well cut, he would answer, I sjiake not true : Tiiis 
 is cali'd the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not 
 well cut, he would say, 1 lie. 'I'liis is call'd the 
 Countercheck quarrelsome : and so to the Lie cir- 
 cumstantial, and tlie Lie direct. [well cut? 
 
 Jaq. And how oft did yon say, his beard was not 
 
 Touch. I durst go no further tlian the Lie circum- 
 stantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie direct ; 
 and so we measured swords, and parted. 
 
 Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees 
 of the lie ? 
 
 Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; 
 as you have books for good manners : I will name yon 
 the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous; the 
 second, the Quip modest; the third, the Reply 
 churlish; the fointli, the Iteprool valiant ; the fifth, 
 the Coiinteriheck quarrelsome; the sixtli, the Lie 
 with circumstance ; the se\enth, tiie Lie diiect. k\\ 
 these you m;(y avoid, but the lie direct; and you 
 may avoid fliit too, with an If. I knew wh-n seven 
 justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the 
 parlies v\ere met themseUes, ime of them tliuiight 
 but of an If, as, If you said so, then I said so; 
 And tliey snook hands, and svMire liM'tln rs. \ our 
 if'vs the oul) peace-maker; mm li viitue in If. 
 
 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he's as 
 good at any thing, and yet a fool. 
 
 Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking horse, 
 and under presentation of that, he shoots his wiL 
 
 Ertter Hymen, lendimj RosAt.iND in icoman'a 
 clothes ; and Celia. 
 
 Still Music. 
 Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
 When earthly thim/s made even. 
 
 Atone tot/ether. 
 Good duke, receive thy dau<jhter. 
 Hymen J'rom heaven brouijht her, 
 
 \ea, hrouyht her hither ; 
 That thou miyht stjoin her hand with his. 
 Whose heart icithin her bosom is. 
 
 Ros. To you I give my.self, for I am vours. 
 
 {To Duke S.) 
 To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
 
 [To Orlando) 
 Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 
 driughter. |lind. 
 
 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosa- 
 Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
 Why then, — my love, adieu ! 
 Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he : — 
 
 [To Duke S.) 
 I'll have no husband, if you be not lie : — 
 
 {ToOrlandoA 
 Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [To Phebe.) 
 Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion : 
 'Tis I must make conclusion 
 
 Of these most strange events ! 
 Here's eight that must take hands. 
 To join in Hymen's bands. 
 If truth holds true contents. 
 You and you no cross shall pait: 
 
 [To Orlando and Rosalind) 
 You and you are heart in heart: 
 
 ( To Oliver and Celia. 
 Yon (To Phebe) to his love must accord. 
 Or have a woman to your lord : — 
 You and you are sure together, 
 
 ( To Touchstone and Aztdrey.} 
 As the winter to foul weather. 
 Whiles a wedlock-hyran we sing. 
 Feed yourselves with questioning; 
 'J'hat reason wonder may diminish. 
 How thus we met, and these things finish. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Weddinr/ is (treat Juno's crown ; 
 
 blessed bond of hoard and bed ! 
 'Tis Hymen jieoples every town; 
 
 Hiijh nedlock then be hon(ii/red .' 
 Honour, kiyh honour and renoicn. 
 To Hymen, <jod of every town! 
 
 Duke S. O, my dear niece, welcome thou art to 
 Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. [me; 
 
 Phe. I will not eat my word : now tiioii art mine; 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 
 
 {To Silviits.) 
 
 Enter J.VQUES de Bois. 
 
 Jaq. de B. Let me have aiidienre for a word « 
 1 am the second son of old sir Rowland, [twa; 
 
 That bring these tidi' gs to this fair assembly: — 
 Duke Fredeiirk. hearing how that ev>-ry day 
 IVIen ol'^reiit vvorih resoited to this forest, 
 .Address'd a iinuhty power; uliirh were on foot. 
 In his own conduct, pur] osely to tak» 
 His brotlur here, ami put him to the swnrd: 
 .And to the skits i t this uild wi.od he c.ime; 
 Where, mertinir ixitii ; n old religinus man. 
 After siiiiie qiiestipn witji liim. was convertet! 
 Both from his entei|irize and fr'ivn the world 
 
186 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 His crowu heqtieathinR to his banisli'd brother, 
 Aotl all tiieir lands restor'd to them again 
 That w»-re with him exil'd : This to be true, 
 I do enjfai^e my life. ' 
 
 Dulce S. Welcome, young man ; 
 
 Thou oU'er'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding : 
 To one, his lands v^ithheld ; and to the other, 
 A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
 First, in this Ibrest, let us do those ends, 
 'J'hat here were well begun, and well begot : 
 And after, every of this happy number. 
 That iiave endurd shrewd days and nights with us. 
 Shall share tiie good of our returned fortune. 
 According to the measure of their states. 
 Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity. 
 And fall into our rustic revelry :— 
 Play, music ; — and you brides and bridegrooms all. 
 With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 
 
 Jaq. Sir, by your patience ; if I heard you rightly, 
 The duke hath put on a religious life. 
 And til I own into neglect the pompous court? 
 
 Jftq tie B. He hath. 
 
 Jatj. To him will I: out of these convertites 
 There is much matter to be heard and learnd. — 
 V'ou to your former honour I bequeath ; 
 
 [To Duke S.) 
 \oar iialience, and your virtue, well deserves it : — 
 Y'liu [lo Orlando) to a love that your true iaith doth 
 merit :— [allies : 
 
 Vou [to Oliver) to your land, and love, and great 
 Yon ito Silviiis] to a long and well-deserved bed : — 
 And you [to Touchstone) to wrangling ; for thy loving 
 voyage ' [siires ; 
 
 Is but foi two mqniths victuall'd :— So to your lea- 
 
 I am for other than for dancing measures. 
 Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay 
 Jaq. To see no pastime, I : — what you would have 
 I'll stay to know at your abandun'd cave. [Exit. 
 
 Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin tliese 
 rites, 
 And we do trust they'll end in true delights. 
 
 ^A dance.) 
 
 EPILOGLE. 
 
 Bos. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epi- 
 logue : but it is no more luihandsome, than to see the 
 lord the prologue. If it be true, that yood iviuc 
 needs no hush, "tis true, that a good play needs no 
 epilogue : Yet to good wine they do use good 
 bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help 
 of good epilogues. What a case am I in tlien, that 
 am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate 
 with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not fur 
 nished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not be- 
 come me : my way is, to conjure you ; and I'll begin 
 witii the women. I rharae you, O women, for tiie 
 love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as 
 please them : and so I charge you, O men, ibr tlie 
 love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your sim - 
 pering, none of you hate them,) that between you 
 and the women, the play may please. If I weie a 
 woman, I would kiss as many of you as had bearus 
 that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and 
 breaths that I defied not : and, I am sure, as many 
 as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, 
 will, ibr my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me 
 farewell. ' Extunt. 
 
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 new, 
 been 
 
 This Dlav has many delightful scenes, though not sulficienlly probable ; and smne hajjpy characters, thoush not 
 5W. nor pniduced by any deep kiumledee of human nature. Parollcs is a boaster and a coward, such as has a,« ays 
 -en (he sport of the stage, but perhaps never raised more lautjhler or contempt than Hi Ihe iaiid» ol hhakspeaie. 
 I cannot reconcile my f.earl to Bert.a.n; a man noble without generosity., and young without truth; who marries 
 Helen as a coward, and leaves her as a pn.lligate: wlien she is dead by hu unkinduess, sneaks home to a second 
 Sarria£e. is accu.e'l by a woman whom he ha. wronged, defends himself by falsehood and dismissed to happiiiess 
 The story of Bertram and D.ana had been told before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the trutn, scarcely 
 
 merited to be heard a second time. 
 
 JuhnsoH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KING OF FR\NCE 
 DUKE OF FLORENCE. 
 BERTRAM, Cou/il of Kousillon. 
 LAFh-U, ail old Lord. 
 PAROLLES, a Fuliower of Bertram. 
 Several young French Lordx. that ierve inith Bertram 
 in the Florentine War. 
 
 Steward, ) Servants to the Countess of Rousillon. 
 Clown, ( 
 
 Scene, — Partly in France, andpartly in Tuscany. 
 
 A Page. 
 
 COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mother to Bertram. 
 
 HELENA, a Gentlewumnn protected by the Countess. 
 
 An old Widow of Florence. 
 
 DIXNA. Daughter to the Widow. 
 
 M XJtlANA^' \ ■^<''»''*<"'" "'"^ Friends to the Widow. 
 
 Lords, attending on the King ; Officers, Soldiers, etc. 
 French and Florentine. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Bertu.um, the Countess of Rousillon, 
 Helena, and Lafeu, nt mourninij. 
 
 Count. In delivering my son iroin me, I bury a 
 second liii.sband. 
 
 Ber. And I, in going, madam, weep o"er my fa- 
 ther's deatli anew : but I must attend his majesty's 
 command, to whom I am now ia ward, evermore in 
 subjection. 
 
 Laf. You shall find of the kinsf a husband, ma- 
 dam : you, sir, a father: he, that so generally is 
 at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue 
 to you ; whose worthiness would stir it uj) where 
 it wanted, rather than lack it where there is much 
 abundance. [amendment ? 
 
 Count. What hope is there of his majesty's 
 
 Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam ; 
 imder whose practices he hath persecuted time with 
 hope ; and finds no other advantage iu the process 
 but only the losing of hope by time. 
 
 Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, 
 (O, lliat Aafl?.' how sad a passage 'tis I) whose skill 
 was almost as great as his honesty ; had it stretched 
 so far, would have made nature immortal, and death 
 should have play, for lack of work. 'Would, for the 
 king's sake, he were living ! I think, it would be 
 the death of the king's disease. 
 
 Laf. How called you the man you speak of, 
 madam ? 
 
 Coujit. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and 
 it was his great right to be so : Gerard de Nai bon. 
 
 liaf. He was excellent, indeed, madam ; the 
 king very lately spoke of him, admiringly, and 
 mournini^ly : he was skilful enough to have lived 
 
 II, if knowledge could be set up against mor- 
 
 ity. [gnishes of.' 
 
 Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king lan- 
 
 Laf. A fistula, my lord. 
 
 Ber. 1 heard iiotolit hefore. 
 
 Lfif. I would, it were not notorious. — Was this 
 gentlewoman the daiighte' of Gerard de Narbon ? 
 
 Count. His sole child, my lord ; and bequeathed 
 to my o.erlooking. I liave those hopes of ber good, 
 that herediicition promises: her dispositions she 
 inlierits, wiiich make fair gifts fairer j for where an 
 unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there com- 
 mendations go with pity, they are virtues and trai 
 tors too ; in Iter, they aie the belter for their simple- 
 ness; she derives lier honesty, and achieves tier 
 gonduess. [tears. 
 
 Idof Vdur "-omnieudations, m idani, i;et from her 
 
 Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season 
 her praise in. Tlie remembrance of her father never 
 approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sor- 
 rows takes nil livelihood from her cheek. No more 
 of this, Helena, go to, no more ; lest it be rather 
 thought you affect a sorrow, than to have. 
 
 iiel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too. 
 
 Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the 
 dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. 
 
 Count. If the livini; be enemy to the grief, the 
 excess makes it soon mortal. 
 
 Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. 
 
 Laf. How understand we that'/ 
 
 Count. Be thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed thy 
 father 
 [n manners, as in shape ! thy blood, and virtue. 
 Contend for empire in thee ; and thy goodness 
 Share with tliy birth-right! Love all, trust a few 
 Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 
 Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
 Under thy own life's key ; be checii'd for silence. 
 But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will. 
 That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down. 
 Fall on thy head! Farewell. — My lord, 
 'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord 
 Advise him. 
 
 Laf. He cannot want the best. 
 
 That shall attend his love. 
 
 Count. Heaven bless him ! — Farewell, Bertram. 
 
 [Exit Countess. 
 
 Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in your 
 thoughts, {to Helena) be servants to you ! Be 
 comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make 
 ni'ich of her. 
 
 Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : you must hold the 
 credit of your father. [Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu. 
 
 Hel. O, were that all ! — 1 think not on my father : 
 And these great tears grace his remembrance more 
 Than those I shed for him. What was he like ? 
 I have forgot Irim : my imagination 
 Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's. 
 I am undone; there is no living, none. 
 If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
 That I should love a bright particular star. 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me: 
 In his bn'sht radiance and collateral light 
 Must i be comforted, not in his spheie. 
 Tlie ambition in my love thus ()lagiies itself; 
 'I'lie hind, tliat would be mated by the lion. 
 Must (lie for love. 'Twas pretty, thouga a plagiw. 
 To see him every hour; to sit and draw 
 His arched biows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
 III our heait's table ; heart, too capable 
 Ofevfiv line and tnck of his sweet favoar: 
 
188 
 
 ALL'S AVELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 but now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
 AJust sanctify his relics. Who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 One that poes witli him : I love him for his sake ; 
 And yet I know him a notorious liar, 
 Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; 
 Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him. 
 That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
 Look hieak in the cold wind : withal, full oft we see 
 Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 
 
 Par. Save yon, fair queen. 
 . Hel. And you, monarch. 
 
 Par. No. 
 
 Hel. And no ..... 
 
 P(tr. Are you meditating on virginity r 
 
 Hel. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you ; 
 let me ask you a question: man is enemy to vir- 
 ginity ; hirw may we barricado it against him :* 
 
 Pfrr. Keep him out. 
 
 He/. But he assails; and our virginity, though 
 valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us 
 gome warlike resistance. 
 
 Par. There is none ; man, sitting down before 
 ynii. v\ ill undermine you, and blow you up. 
 
 Hel. liless our poor virginity IVom underminers, 
 and blowers up !— Is there no military policy, how 
 virgins might blow up men ? 
 
 Par. Virginity being blown down, man will 
 quicklier be blown up : marry, in blowing him down 
 again with tiie breach yourst-lves made, you lose 
 yom- city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of 
 nature, to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is 
 rational increase ; and there was never virgin got, 
 till virginity was first lost That, you were made ot, 
 is metal to make virgins. ViiginUy, by being once 
 lost, nviy be ten times found : by being ever kept, 
 it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion, away 
 with it. 
 
 Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore 
 I di'' a virgin. 
 
 Pitr. There's little can be said in't ; 'tis against 
 the rule of nature. To speak on the part of vir- 
 ginity, is to accuse your mothers ; which is most 
 infallible disobedience. He, that hangs himself, is 
 a viriiin; virginity murdt-rs itself; and should be 
 buried in liij^hways, out of all sanctified limit, as a 
 desperate oti'endress against nature. Virginity breeds 
 mites, Miiicli like a cheese ; consumes itself to the 
 very pari: g, and so dies with feeding his own 
 stiimacli. Besides, virginity is [leevish, proud, idle, 
 made of sell-love, wuich is the most inhibited sin 
 in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but 
 lose by t: out vvitht: within ten years it will make 
 itself ten, which is a goodly increase ; and the 
 priiiirple itself not nuich the worse : away vvith't. 
 
 Hel. H>)W might one do, sir, to lose it to her 
 own iikiiig :' 
 
 Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that 
 neVr it likes. 'Tis a comniodily will lose the gloss 
 with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: olf 
 witirt, w.nle 'tis vend.ble: answer the time ol re- 
 quest. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her 
 cap out of fashion ; richly suited, but unsuitable : 
 just like the brooch and tooth pick, which wear not 
 now: your date is better in your pie ami your por- 
 ridge, than in your cheek: and your virginity, your 
 old virgin ly, is like one of our French withered 
 pears; it looks ill. it eats dryly; marry, "tis a 
 withered pear; it was foitnerly better ; marry, yet, 
 'tis a withered pear : will you any thing with it .'' 
 
 Hel. Not iny virginity yet. 
 There sliall youi m isier have a thousand loves, 
 A mother, and a mistress, and a liiend, 
 A I h(»fiiix, captain, and an enemy, 
 A guide, a giddess, and a sovereign, 
 A counsellor, a traitress, and a de if ; 
 His liumljle ambltKui, proud Immility, 
 His jarrtiig concord, and his discurd dulcet. 
 His tdith, his sweet disaster; with a world 
 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptious chrisfendoms, 
 That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he— 
 I know not what he shall : — God send him wdi !^ 
 The coiirCs a learning place ; — and he is one — 
 
 Par. What one, I'faith ? 
 
 Hel. TUnt 1 wish well.—'Tis pity— 
 
 Par. What's pity 'f 
 
 Hel. That wisiiing well had not a body in't. 
 Which might be felt: that we, the poorer bom. 
 Whose baser stars do shut us up in wislies. 
 Might with effects of them follow our Irieii'is, 
 And show what we aloue must think ; wIulIi oc-ver 
 Heturns us thanks. 
 
 Enter a Page. 
 
 Page. Moilsieur Parolles, niy lord calls for vou 
 
 [Exit Pni/e 
 
 Pa?: Little Helen, farewell : if I can reiiieu.ber 
 thee, I will think of thee at court. 
 
 Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were bo n iindei u 
 
 Par, Under Mars, L [charitable stai 
 
 Hel. I especially think, under Mars. 
 
 Par. Why under Mars "i" 
 
 Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you 
 must needs be born under Mars. 
 
 Par. When he was predominant. 
 
 Hel. When he was retrograde, 1 llilnk, rutlu r. 
 
 Par. Why think you so? 
 
 Hel. Yon go so much backward, when yon fight. 
 
 Par. I'hat's for advantage. 
 
 Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes tli« 
 safety: but the composition, that your valour and 
 fear makes in you, is a virtue of a good wing, and I 
 like the wear well. 
 
 Par. lam so full of business, I cannot nnsvvtr 
 thee acutely : I will return perfect courtier ; in the 
 which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, 
 so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and 
 nndi j'stand what advice shall thrust upon thee ; else 
 thou diest in thine nnthankiulnes.s, and thine igno- 
 rance makes thee away : farewell. When thou hast 
 leisure, say thy prayers ; when thou hast none, re- 
 member thy friends : get thee a good husband, and 
 use him as he uses thee : so farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
 Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
 Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 
 What power is it, which mounts my love so higli ; 
 That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye'^ • 
 The mightiest space in i'ortinie nature brings 
 To join like likes, and kiss like native things. 
 Impossible be strange attempts, to those 
 Tliat weigh their pains in sense ; and do suppose. 
 What hatli been cannot be. Who ever strove 
 To show her merit, that did miss her love '! 
 The king's disease — my project may deceive me, 
 But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Scene II.— Pam. A Room in the King's Palace 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of France, 
 
 ivit-h letters ; Lords and others attending. 
 
 King. The Florentines and Senoys ar by the ears; 
 Have Ibught with equal fortune, and continue 
 A braving war. 
 
 1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. 
 
 King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive it 
 .K ceitainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, 
 With caution, that the Florentine will move us 
 For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend 
 Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
 To have us make denial. 
 
 1 Lord. His love and wisdom, 
 
 Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead 
 For amplest credence. 
 
 King. He hat'.i arm'd our answ*C 
 
 And Florence is denied bel'oie he comes : 
 W t, f(U- our gentle i en, that mean to .see 
 The 'I uscan service, freely they have li avr 
 To stand on either pai U 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 180 
 
 ihord. It may well serve 
 
 A nursery to our g:entry, who are sick. 
 For bre thing and exploit. 
 
 Kl.ig. What's he comes here ? 
 
 Enter Bkrtraji, Lafeu, and Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. It is the count Rousillon, my good lord, 
 Voiin«- Bertram. 
 
 Kinj. Voiith, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 
 
 Frank iiatnre, rather curious than in liaste, 
 Hatli well conipos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts 
 May'st thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris. 
 
 Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. 
 
 Kiyuj. 1 would I liad tliat corporal soundness now, 
 As when tliy lather, and myselt, in frieiidsliip. 
 First try'd our soldiership ! He did look far 
 Into the st-rvice of the time, and was 
 Discipled of the bravest: he lasted lonsf; 
 But on us both did haj';i;ish as;e steal on, 
 And wore us out of act. It much repairs me 
 To talk of your good father : In his youth 
 He had the wit, which I can well observe 
 To day in our young lords ; but they may jest. 
 Till their own scorn return to them unnoted. 
 Ere they can hide their levity in honour. 
 So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
 Were in his pride or sharpness \ if they were, 
 His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour. 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute, when 
 Exception bid him speak, and, at this time. 
 His tongue obey'd his hand : who were below him, 
 He ns"d as creatures of another place ; 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 Making them proud of his humility. 
 In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man 
 JMight be a copy to these younger times ; 
 Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now 
 But goers backward. 
 
 Ber. His good remembrance, sir. 
 
 Lies richer in your thounhts, than on his tomb; 
 So in approof lives not his epitaph. 
 As in your royal speech. [ways say. 
 
 King. 'Would I were with hini ! He would al- 
 fMethinks, I hear him now; his plausive words 
 He sratter'd not in ears, but graited them. 
 To grow there, and to bear.) — Let me tiot live, — 
 Thus his good melancholy oft began, 
 On the catastrophe and heel of pastime. 
 When it was out, — let me nut live, (pinth he. 
 After my flame lacks oil. to be the snuff 
 rj younrjer spirits, tvhose apprehensive senses 
 All but new things disdain ; whose judgments are 
 Merefathers of their garments ; whose constancies 
 
 Exjy'ire before their fashions : Tliis he wish'd : 
 
 I, alter him, do after him wisli too. 
 Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, 
 1 quickly were dissolved from my hive, 
 'I'ogivf some labouiers room. 
 
 '2 Lord. You are loved, sir ; 
 
 Thev. that least lend it you, shall lack you first. 
 
 King. I fill a place, I know't. — How long is't, 
 coimt, 
 Since the physician at your father's died? 
 He was much fam'd. 
 
 Ber. Some six months since, my lord. 
 
 King. If he were living, I would try him yet; — 
 Lend lue an arm ; — the rest have worn me out 
 Willi several applications : — nature and sickness 
 Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; 
 My son's no dearer. 
 
 Ber. Thank your majesty. 
 
 [Exeunt. Flourish. 
 
 Scene III. — Rousillon. A Room in the Countesses 
 Palace. 
 Enter Countess, Steiuard, and Clown. 
 Count. I will now hear : what say you of this 
 geutlewotriun ? 
 
 Slew. Miidajn, the care I have had to even your 
 content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my 
 
 past endeavours ; for then we wonnd onr modeo*— 
 and make fonl the clearness of our deserving.s, wnm 
 o( ourselves we publish them. 
 
 Count. What does this knave here ? G( t you 
 gone, sirrah : The eoinplainls 1 have heard of von, I 
 do not all bf lieve ; 'tis my slowness, that I di> not : 
 for, I know, you lack not the lolly to conunit them, 
 and have ability enough to make such knaveries 
 yours. 
 
 Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor 
 
 Count. Well, sir. | fellow. 
 
 Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well tiiat I am poor, 
 though many of the rich are damn'd : Bui if 1 may 
 have your ladyship's goo<l-will to go to the world, 
 Isbel the woman and 1 will do as we may. 
 
 Count. VV'ilt ihou needs be a beggar .•" 
 
 Cio. I do beg your good- will in this case. 
 
 Count. In wiiat case 't 
 
 Clo. In L-ibel's case, and mine own. Service is 
 no heritage: and, I think, I shall never have the 
 blessing of God, till I have issue of my body ; for, 
 they say, beams are blessings. 
 
 Cou7it. Tell me thy rea.son why thou wilt marry. 
 
 Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am 
 driven on by ttie flesh ; and he mu.st needs go, that 
 the devil drives. 
 
 Count. Is this all your worship's reason? 
 
 Clo. Faith, madam, I have other holy reason.<i, 
 such as they are. 
 
 Count. May the world know them? 
 
 Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as 
 you and all flesh and blood are ; and, indeed, I do 
 marry, that I may repent. [ness. 
 
 Count. Thy marriage, sooner than tiiy wicked- 
 
 Clo. I am out of friends, madam ; and I hope to 
 hav e friends for my wife's sake. 
 
 Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. 
 
 Clo. You are shallow, madam ; e'en great friends ; 
 for the knaves come to do that for me, which 1 am 
 a-weary of. He, that ears my land, spares my 
 team, and gives me leave to inn the crop : il 1 be 
 his cuckold, he's my drudge : He, that cuinforts my' 
 wife, is the cherisher of my llesh and bh.od; he, 
 that cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my llesh 
 and blood ; he, that loves my flesh and blood, is inv 
 friend : ergo, he that kisses my vvile, is my friend. 
 if men could be contented to be what they are, 
 there were no fear in marriage ; for young Cliarbon 
 the puritan, and old Poysam the papist, howsoe'er 
 their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are 
 both one, they may joU horns together, like any 
 deer i' the herd 
 
 Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and 
 
 calur 
 
 kna 
 
 Clo. A prophet I, madam ; and I speak the truth 
 the next way : 
 
 For I the ballad will repeat, 
 Which men full true shall find; 
 
 Your marriage comes by destiny. 
 Your cuckoo sings by kind. 
 
 Count. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more 
 anon. 
 
 Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid 
 Helen come to you ; other I am to speak. 
 
 Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would 
 speak with her; Helen I mean. 
 
 Clo. fVas this fair face the cause, quoth she, 
 
 {Singing. 
 Why theGrecians sacked Troy i^ 
 Fond do7ie, done fond. 
 
 Was this king Friam's joy. 
 With that she sighed as she stood. 
 With that she sighed as she stood. 
 
 And gave this sentence then • 
 Amo7ig nine bad if one be good, 
 Amo7ig nine bad if 07ie be good. 
 There's yet one good in ten. 
 Count. What, one good in ten? you corrupt the 
 song, sirrah. 
 
1(10 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 f/o One f;oofl woman in ten, madatn ; which is 
 a piirifyinij o' the song: 'Would God would serve 
 the world so all the year! we'd find no fault with 
 the tythe- woman, if I were the parson : One in ten, 
 quoth a' ! an we might have a good woman born but 
 every b!azmg star, or at an earthquake, 'twould 
 mend the lottery well : a man may draw his heait 
 out, ere he pluck one. 
 
 Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I 
 command you V 
 
 Clo. That man should be at woman's command, 
 and yet no hurt done ! — Though honesty be no pu- 
 ritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the sur- 
 plice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. 
 — I am going, forsooth : the business is for Helen to 
 come hither. [Exit Clorvn. 
 
 Count. Well now. [vvoni<in entirely. 
 
 Steiu. I know, madam, you love your gentle- 
 
 Coiint. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed her 
 to me; and she herself, without other advantage, 
 may lavvfnlly make title to as m\ich love as she 
 finds: there is more owing her, tiian is paid; and 
 more shall be paid her, than she'll demand. 
 
 Steio. Madam, I was very late more near her 
 than, I tliink, she wished me : alone she was, and 
 did communicate to herself, her own words to her 
 own ears ; she thought, I dare vow for her, they 
 touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, 
 she loved your son : Forttme, she said, was no 
 goddess, that had put such ditference betwixt their 
 two estates; Love, no god, that w.ould not extend 
 his might, only where qualities were level ; Diana, no 
 queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight to 
 be surprised, without rescue, in the first assault, or 
 ransom afterward : This she delivered in the most 
 bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er 1 heard virgin ex- 
 claim in : which I held my duty, speedily to ac- 
 quaint you withal ; sithence, in the loss that may 
 happen, it concerns you something to know it. 
 
 Count. Y(ui have discharged this honestly ; keep 
 it to yourself; many likelihoods informed me of tiiis 
 before, whicii hung so tottering in the balance, that 
 i could neither believe, nor misdoubt : Pray you, 
 leave me : stall this in your bosom, and I thank you 
 for your honest care : 1 will speak with you furtiier 
 anon. [Exit Steward. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Count. Even so it was with me, when I was 
 young : 
 
 If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn 
 Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; 
 
 Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ; 
 It is the show and seal of nature's truth, 
 Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth : 
 By our remembrances of days foregone, [none. 
 
 Such were our faults ; — or then we thought them 
 Her eye is sick on't; 1 observe her now. 
 
 Hel. What is your pleasure, madam ? 
 
 Count. You know, Helen, 
 
 I am a mother to you. 
 
 Hel. Mine honourable mistress. 
 
 Count. Nay, a mother ; 
 
 Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, 
 Methought you saw a serpent : What's in mother. 
 That you start at it ? I say, I am vour mother ; 
 And put you in the catalogue of those, 
 That were enwombed mine : 'Tis often seen. 
 Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds 
 A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
 You ne'er oppress 'd me with a mother's groan. 
 Yet I express to you a mother's care : — 
 God's mercy, maiden ! does it curd thy blood. 
 To say, I am thy mother'? What's the matter, 
 That this distemper'd messenger of wet. 
 The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? 
 Whv :' that you are my daughter ? 
 
 Hel. That I am not 
 
 Co.tnl. 1 say, 1 am your mother. 
 
 Pardon, madam; 
 
 The coimt Rousillon cannot be my bratli^r : 
 I am from humble, he from hoiionr"<l name: 
 No note upon my parents, his all noble ; 
 My master, my dear lord he is ; and I 
 His servant live, and will his vassal die: 
 He must not be my brother. 
 
 Count. Nor I yonr mother? 
 
 Hel. Yon are my mother, madam ; 'Would yoi* 
 were 
 (So that my lord, your son, were not my brother.) 
 Indeed my mother I — or, were you bdth our mothers, 
 I care no more for, than I do for heaven, 
 So I were not his sister: Can't no other, 
 But, I your daughter, he nuist be my brother? 
 
 Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter, 
 in-law ; 
 God shield, you mean it not ! daughter, and mother. 
 So strive upon your pulse : What, pale again ? 
 My fear hath catch'd your fondness : now I see 
 The mystery of your loneliness, and find 
 Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross. 
 You love my son ; invention is asham'd. 
 Against the proclamation of the passion. 
 To say, thou dost not: therefore tell me true ; 
 But tell me then, 'tis so : — for, look, thy checks 
 Confess it, one to the other; and thine eyes 
 See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours, 
 That in (heir kind they speak it : only sin 
 And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue. 
 That truth should be suspected : Speak, is't so? 
 If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue ; 
 If it be not, Ibrswear't : howe'er, I charge thee, 
 As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, 
 To tell me truly. 
 
 Hel. Good madam, pardon me ! 
 
 Count. Do you love my son ? 
 
 Hel, Your pardon, noble mistress ! 
 
 Count. Love you my son ? 
 
 Hel. Do not you love him, madaui " 
 
 Count. Go not about ; my love hath in't a bond, 
 Whereof the world takes note : come, come, dlschise 
 The state of your affection ; for your passions 
 Have to the full appeach'd. 
 
 Hel. Then, I confi-ss. 
 
 Here on my knee, before high heaven and you. 
 That before you, and next unto high heaven, 
 I love your son : — 
 
 My friends were poor, but honest ; so's my love : 
 Be not oft'ended ; for it hurts not him. 
 That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not 
 By any token of presumptuous suit ; 
 Nor would I have him, till I do deserve hin: ; 
 Yet never know how that desert should be. 
 I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
 Yet, in this ca|)tious and intenable sieve, ^ 
 
 I still pour in the waters of ray love, 
 And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian like. 
 Religious in mine error, I adore 
 The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 
 But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 
 Let not your hate encounter with my love, 
 For loving where you do : but, if yourself, 
 Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth. 
 Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, 
 Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian 
 Was both herself and love : O then, give pity 
 To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose , 
 But lend and give, where she is sure to lose ; 
 That seeks not to find that her search implies. 
 But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. 
 
 Count. Had vou not lately an intent, speak ti idy. 
 To go to Paris 'r 
 
 Hel. Madam, I had. 
 
 Cmtnt. Wherefore? tell tne. 
 
 Hel. I will tell truth; by grace itself, I swear. 
 You know, my father left me some prescriptions 
 Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading, 
 And manifest experience, had collected 
 For general sovereignty; and that he will'il tun 
 In beedfullest reservation to bestow lliem. 
 
Act it. Scene 1. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 191 
 
 As notes, whose faculties inclusive were, 
 More than they were in note : amonsst the rest. 
 There is a remedy, approv'd, set flown, 
 To cure the desperate languislies, whereof 
 The king; is render'd lost. 
 
 Count. Tliis was your mnlive 
 
 For Paris, was it ?. speak. 
 
 Hel. My lord your son made me to tliink of this; 
 Else Paris, and the medicine, and tiie king, 
 Had, from the conversation of my thoughts. 
 Haply, been absent then. 
 
 Count. But think you, Helen, 
 
 If you should tender your supposed aid, 
 He would receive it? He and his pliysicians 
 Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him; 
 They, that they cannot help: How shall they credit 
 A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, 
 Emboweird of their doctrine, have left off 
 The danger to itself? 
 
 Hel. There's something hinta. 
 
 More than my father's skill, which was the greatest 
 Of his profession, that his good receipt 
 Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified 
 By the luckiest stars in heaven : and, would yonr 
 
 honour 
 But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 
 The well-lost life of mine ou his grace's cure, 
 By such a day and hour. 
 
 Count. Dost thou believ't ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly. 
 
 Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave 
 and love, 
 Means and attendants, and my loving greetings 
 To those of mine in court : I'll stay at home. 
 And pray God's blessing into thy attempt : 
 Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this. 
 What I can help thee to, thou shalt not niis^. 
 
 [JUxeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King, ivith young Lords, taking 
 leave for the Florentine loar ; Bertram, Pa- 
 ROLLEs, and Attendants. 
 
 King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike prin- 
 ciples [well :— 
 Do not throw from you : — and you, my lord, fare- 
 Share the advice betwixt you ; it both gain all, 
 The gilt doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd. 
 And is enough ibr both. 
 
 1 Lord. It is our hope, sir. 
 After well-enterd soldiers, to return 
 
 And find your grace in health. 
 
 King. No, no, it cannot be ; and yet my heart 
 Will not confess, he owes the malady 
 'J'hat doth my life besiege. Farewell, youug loids ; 
 Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
 Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy, 
 (Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall 
 Of the last monarchy,) see, that you come 
 Not to woo honour, but to wed it ; when 
 The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek. 
 That fame may cry you loud : I say, farewell. 
 
 2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your 
 
 majesty ! 
 King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them : 
 They say, our French lack language to deny, 
 If they demand: beware of being captives. 
 Before you serve. 
 Both. Our hearts receive your warnings. 
 
 King. Farewell. — Come hither to me. 
 
 (The King retires to a couch.) 
 
 1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay be- 
 
 hind us ! 
 Par. 'Tis not his fault ; the spark 
 
 2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars ! 
 i-ar. Most admirable : I have seen those wars ! 
 ifc**. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with ; 
 
 7 00 tjoung, and the next year, and 'tis too early. 
 
 Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, sfeal aw.^y 
 bravely. 
 
 Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a sv.iO.S 
 Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry. 
 Till honour be bought up, and no«svord worn, 
 But one to dance with : By heaven I'll steal away. 
 
 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. 
 
 Par. Comtiiit it, cotiat. 
 
 2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so farewell. 
 Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured 
 
 1 Lord. Farewell, captain. [bodv. 
 '2 Lord. Siveet monsieur Parolles! 
 
 Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. 
 Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals:— 
 You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one 
 captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of 
 war, here on his sinister cheek ; it was this very 
 sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and ob- 
 serve his reports ibr me. 
 
 2 Lord. We sliall, noble captain. 
 
 Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! [Exeunt 
 Lords.] — What will you do? 
 
 Ber. Stay ; the king (Seeing him rise.) 
 
 Par. Use a more specious ceremony to the no- 
 ble lords; you have restrained yourself within the 
 list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to 
 them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the 
 time, there, do muster true gait, eat, speak, and 
 move under the influence of the most received star ; 
 and though the devil lead the measure, such are to 
 he followed : after them, and take a more dilated 
 farewell. 
 
 Ber. And I will do so. 
 
 Par. Worthy fellows, and like to prove most 
 sinewy sword-men. (£.rez<H< Bertram and Parolles, 
 Enter Lafeo. 
 
 Laf. Pardon, my lord, ( kneeling ) for me and 
 for my tidings. 
 
 King. I'll fee thee to stand up. 
 
 Laf. Then here's a man 
 
 Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would you 
 Had kneel'd, my lord, to asl,. me mercy ; and 
 That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. 
 
 King. I would I had ; so 1 had broke thy pate. 
 And ask'd thee mercy for't. . 
 
 Laf. Good faith, across : 
 
 But, my good lord, 'tis thus : Will you be cur'd 
 Of your infirmity ? 
 
 King. No. 
 
 Laf. O, will you eat 
 
 No grapes, my royal fox ? yes, but you will. 
 My noble grapes, an if my royal tox 
 Could reach them : I have seen a medicine. 
 That's able to breathe life into a stone ; 
 Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary. 
 With sprightly fire and motion; whose simple touch 
 Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay. 
 To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand. 
 And write to her a love-line. 
 
 King. What her is this ? 
 
 Laf. Why, doctor she : My lord, there's one 
 arriv'd, 
 If yon will see her, — now, by my faith and honour. 
 If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
 In this my light deliverance, I have spoke 
 With one, that, in her sex, her years, profession, 
 Wisdom, and constancy, hath aniaz'd me more 
 Than I dare blame my weakness: Will you see her 
 (For that is her demand) and know her business ? 
 That done, laugh well at me. 
 
 King. Now, good Lafea, 
 
 Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee 
 May spend our wonder too, or take off thine. 
 By wondering how thou took'st it. 
 
 Laf Nay, I'll fit yoa 
 
 And not be all day neither. [Exit Lafeu. 
 
 King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologu«i«. 
 Re-enter Lafeu with Helena. 
 
 Laf. Nay, come your ways ; 
 
192 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act n. 
 
 This is his majesty, say your mind to him : 
 A traitor yon do look like ; but s'lch traitors 
 His majesty seldom fears: 1 am Cressid's uncle. 
 That d;ire leave two together: fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 King. Now, fair one, does your business follow as ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, tny good lord. Gerard de Narhon was 
 My father; in what he did profess, well found. 
 
 King. I knew him. [him; 
 
 Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards 
 Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death 
 Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one. 
 Which, as the dearest issue of his practice. 
 And of his old experience the only darling. 
 He bade me store np, as a triple eye, 
 Safer than mine own two, more dear ; I have so : 
 And, hearing your high majesty is touch'd 
 With that malignant cause, wherein the honour 
 Of my dear fatlier's gift stands chief in power, 
 I come to tender it and my appliance. 
 With all bound humbleness. 
 
 King. We thank you, maiden ; 
 
 But may not be so credulous of cure, — 
 When our most learned doctors leave us ; and 
 The congregated college have concluded. 
 That labouring art can never ransom nature 
 From her unaidable estate, — I say, we must not 
 So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, 
 'I'o prostitute our past-cure malady 
 To empirics ; or to dissever so 
 Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
 A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. 
 
 ffel. My duty then shall pay me for my pains ; 
 I will no more enforce mine olfice on you ; 
 Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 
 A modest one, to bear me back again. 
 
 King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd 
 grateful : 
 Thou thoiiglitst to help me ; and such tlranks I give. 
 As one near death to those that wish him li\ e : 
 But, what at full I know, thou know'st no part ; 
 I knowing ail my peril, tliou no art. 
 
 Hfl. VVhat I can do, can do no hurt to try. 
 Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy : 
 He that of greatest works is fi'iisher. 
 Oft does them by the weakest minister: 
 So holy writ in babes Jiath judgment shown. 
 When judges have been babes. Great floods have 
 
 flown 
 From simple sources ; and great seas have dried. 
 When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
 Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
 Where most it promises ; and oft it hits. 
 Where hope is coldesl, and despair most sits. 
 
 King. I nnist not hear thee ; fare thee well, 
 kind tnaid ; 
 'I'hy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid : 
 Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward. 
 
 Hel. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd : 
 It is not so with him, that all things knows. 
 As "tis with us that Square our guess by shows; 
 But most it is presumption in us, when 
 The help of heaven we count the act of men. 
 Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent ; 
 Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
 I am not an impostor, that proclaim 
 Myself against the level of mine aim ; 
 But know I think, and think I know most sure. 
 My art is not past power, nor you past cure. 
 
 King. Art tiioii so confident? VVithin what space 
 Hop'st thou my cure ? 
 
 Hel. The greatest grace lending grace. 
 
 Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
 Their fiery torclier his diurnal ring: 
 Ere twice in nmrk and occidental damp. 
 Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ; 
 Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
 Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass; 
 Wliat is inlirrn from your sound parts shall fly, 
 Health shall lise free, and sickness freely die. 
 
 King. Upon thy certainty and confidence. 
 
 What dar'st thou venture? 
 
 Hel. Tax of impudence.— 
 
 A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, — 
 Traduc'd by odious ballads ; my maiden's name 
 Sear'd otherwise ; no worse ol worst extended. 
 With vilest torture let my life be ended. [speak 
 King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spiut dolli 
 His powerlul sound, within an organ vve^ik : 
 And what impossibility would slay 
 In common sense, sense saves another way. 
 Thy life is dear ; for all, that life can rate 
 Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate ; 
 Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all 
 That happiness and prime can happy call : 
 Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate 
 Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. 
 Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try; 
 That ministers thine own death, if I die. 
 
 Hel. If I break time, or flinch in property 
 Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die ; 
 And well deserv'd : Not helping, death's my fee; 
 But, if 1 help, what do yon promise me ? 
 King. Make thy demand. 
 
 Hei. But will you make it even ? 
 
 King. Ay, by my sceptre, and my Irpes of 
 heaven. [hand, 
 
 Hel. Then thou shalt give me, with thy kingly 
 What husband in thy power I will command: 
 Exempted be from me the arrogance 
 To choose from forth the royal blood of France ; 
 My low and humble name to propat;ate 
 With any branch or image of thy state : 
 But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know 
 Is free for me to task, thee to bestow. 
 
 King. Here is (ny hand ; the pren)ises observ'dj 
 Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd ; 
 So make the choice of thy own time : tor I, 
 Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. 
 More should I question thte, and more I must; 
 Though, more to know, could not be more to 
 trust ; [rest 
 
 From whence thou cani'st, how tended on, — But 
 Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest. — 
 Give me some help here, ho ! — If thou proceed 
 As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Rousillon. A Room in the Coimiess't 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Countess and Clown, 
 
 Count. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to th^ 
 height of your breeding. 
 
 Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly 
 taugiit : I know my business is but to the court. 
 
 Count. 'I'o the court! why, what jilace make yon 
 special, when you i)ut oft" that with such contempt? 
 But to the court ! 
 
 Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man aiiy 
 manners, he may easily put it off" at court: he, that 
 cannot make a leg, put otf's cap. kiss his hand, and 
 say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; 
 and. indeed, such a fellow, to say precisely, were 
 not for the court: but, for me, 1 have an answer 
 will serve all men. 
 
 Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits 
 all questions. 
 
 Clo. It :s like a barber's chair, that fits all but 
 tocks; the pin-buttock, trie quatch-buttock, the 
 brawn-buttock, or any buttock. (tions? 
 
 Count. Will your answer serve fit to all qucs- 
 
 Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an at- 
 torney, as your French crown for your tafliita punk, 
 as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake 
 forShrove-Tuesday, a morris for May day, a.s the 
 nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scold- 
 ing quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to 
 the friar's mouth ; nay, as the pudding to his .-ikin. 
 
 Count. Have you, \ say, an answer of such fitness 
 for all questions ? 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 19S 
 
 Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your 
 coiisfiible, it will fit any question. 
 
 Count. Ii must be an answer of most monstrous 
 size, tli;it ciMist (it all demands. 
 
 Clo. 13iit a trifle ueitlier, in good faith, if the 
 learned siioiild speak truth of it : here it is, and ail 
 that belonifs tot : Ask me, if I am a courtier; it siiall 
 do you n.) harm to learn. 
 
 Cuunl. To be young a;;ain, if we could : I will be 
 a fool ill question, hoping to be the wiser by your 
 answer, i pray you, sir, are you a courtier? 
 
 do. O Lord, sir, 'I'liere's a simple putting 
 
 off"; — more, iiioie, a hundred of them. 
 
 Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that 
 loves you. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, — Thick, thick, sjjare not me. 
 
 Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of this 
 homely meat. [you. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, — Nay, put me to't, I warrant 
 
 Count. Vou were lately whipped, sir, as I tliiuk. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, — Sjiare not nie. 
 
 Count. Do you cry, Lord, sir, at your whip- 
 ping, and spare not me I Indeed, your Lord, sir, 
 is very st><pient to your whipping ; you would i.ii- 
 swer very well to a whipping, if you were but 
 bound to't. 
 
 Clo. I ne'er had worse luck iii my life, in my — 
 
 Lord, sir: I see, things may serve long, but not 
 serve ever. 
 
 Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, 
 to entertain it so merrily with a fool. 
 
 Clo. O Lord, sir, — Why, there't serves well 
 aj;ain. [this. 
 
 Count. .\n end, sir, to your business : give Helen 
 And inge her to a present answer back : 
 Coniuiend nie to my kinsmen, and my son ; 
 'I'his is not much. 
 
 Clo. Not much commendation to them. 
 
 Count. Nut much employment for you : you un- 
 derstand me ? 
 
 Clo. Most fruitfully ; I am there before my legs. 
 
 Count. Haste you again. [E.veunt severally. 
 
 Scene HL — Pari.t. A Room in the Kimja 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Rkktkam, Lafeu, and Parolles. 
 
 Laf. They say, miracles are past; and we have 
 our philosophical perscuis, to make modern and 
 familiar things, supernatural and causeless. Hence 
 is it, tiiat we make trilles of terrors ; ensconciiif; 
 ourseUes into seeming knowledge, when we should 
 submit ourselves to an unknown fear. 
 
 Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, 
 thnt hath siiot out in our latter times. 
 
 Uer. A nd so 'tis. 
 
 Laf. 'I'd be relinquished of the artists, — 
 
 Pur. So I say; both of (lalen an<l Paracelsus. 
 
 Lfrf. Of all the learned and authentic (ellovvs, — 
 
 Par. llight, so I say. 
 
 Laf. Tiiat gave him out incurable, — 
 
 Par. Wtiy, there 'tis; so say T ton. 
 
 Laf. Not to be lielpeil, — 
 
 Par. Bight: as 'twere a man assured of an — 
 
 7/(7/. Uncertain life, and sure death. 
 
 J*ar. Just, you say well ; so wouhl I have said. 
 
 Lnf. I may truly say, it is a no> city to the world. 
 
 Par. It is, indeed : if you will have it in show- 
 ing, you shall read it in, What do you call 
 
 theie i" — _ _ [actor. 
 
 Laf. A showing of a heavenly etlect in an earthly 
 
 Par. That's it I would ha\e s:iid ; the very same. 
 
 Laf. Why, your dolphin is not lustier ; 'lore me, 
 
 1 speak ill respect 
 
 Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'lis very strange, that is 
 ilie brief and tlic tedious of it; and he is of a most 
 laLiiiorcjus spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be 
 
 f.af. Veiy hand of heaven. [the — 
 
 Puf. .\y, bO I say. 
 
 haf. In a most weak — 
 
 Pttr, And dcbilo minister, great power, great 
 
 transcendence: which should, indeed, g'.v us a 
 further use to be made, than alone the recoMTy ol 
 the king, as to be — 
 
 Laf. Generally thankful. 
 
 Enter Ki.VG, Helena, and Attendants. 
 
 Par. I would have said it; you say well ; li<^ri- 
 comes the king. 
 
 Laf. Jiustick, as the Dutchman says: I'll lil^i u 
 maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my heail : 
 why, he's able to lead her a coranto. 
 
 Par. Mart du Vinaiyrel Is not this Htlen .' 
 
 Laf. 'Fore CJod, I think .so. 
 
 King. Go, call before ine all the lords in coiiit — 
 
 [Exit an AltenUanl. 
 Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side ; 
 And with this healthful hand, whose banishd .sciust 
 Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive 
 The confirmation of my promis'd gift, 
 Which but attends thy naming. 
 
 Enter several Lordn. 
 
 Fair maid, send forth thine eye : (liis youthful par- 
 Of noble bachelors stand at my bestow mi>. [ci-I 
 
 O'er whom both sovereign power and lather's voice 
 J have to use : thy frank election make ; ' [s-ikc. 
 Thou hast power to choose, and they none to fiu- 
 
 Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous iiii.-i- 
 tress 
 Fall, when love please! — marry, to each, but one I 
 
 Laf. I'd give bay Curtal, and his furniture. 
 My mouth no more were broken than these boys", 
 And writ as little beard. 
 
 King. Peruse them well : 
 
 Not one of those, but had a noble father. 
 
 Hel. Gentlemen, 
 Heaxen hath, through me, restur'd the king to health. 
 
 All. We understand it. and thank heaven for you 
 
 Hel. I am a simple maid ; and therein wealtiiioi. 
 That I protest, I simply am a maid : — 
 Please it your majesty, I have done already; 
 The blushes in my cheeks thus whisi)er nic. 
 We blush, that thou shoidd'st choose : but, he 
 
 refused. 
 Let the tvhite death sit on thy cheek for ever ; 
 IVe'll veer come there again. 
 
 King. Make choice ; and, see. 
 
 Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me. 
 
 Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I (ly ; 
 And to im|)erial Love, that god most high. 
 Do my sij;iis stream. — Sir, will you hear my suit? .. 
 
 1 Lord. And grant it. 
 
 Hel. Thaiiks, sir: all the rest is mute. 
 
 Laf. I had rather be in this choice, than throw 
 ames-ace for my life. _ [eyes. 
 
 Hel. The honour, sir, that flames in your fiir 
 Before I speak, too threateningly replies : 
 Love make your foi tunes twenty times above 
 Her that so wishes, and her humble love I 
 
 2 Lord. No better, if you please. 
 
 Hel. My wish recei\e. 
 
 Which great love grant! and so I take iiiy leave. 
 
 Laf. Do they all deny her? .A.n they were sons 
 of mine, I'd have tiiem whipped ; or I would send 
 them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. 
 
 Hel. Be not afraid {to a Lord) that I your hand 
 should take ; 
 I'll never do you wrong for your own sake : 
 Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed 
 Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed ! 
 
 Lot'. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none 
 Lave her: sure, tliey are bastarils to the Englisii; 
 the French ne'er got them. 
 
 Hel. Vou aic too young, too happy, and too good. 
 To make yourself a son out of my blood. 
 
 4 Lord. Fair one, I tliink not so. 
 
 Laf. There's one grape yet.-- -I am sure, thy fa- 
 tlier diank wine. — But if tlioii bc'st not an ass, [ am 
 a voutli of fourteen; I have known thee already. 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act II- 
 
 Hel. I dare not s;iy I tike jon ; {(o Bertram) 
 but I give 
 Me, and tiiy service, ever wliil.sl f live. 
 Into your gnidiiif^ power. — Tiiis is tiie man. 
 
 King. VVhy then, young Bertram, take iier, she's 
 tiiy wife. [highness, 
 
 Ber. My wile, my liege? I shall beseech your 
 (n snch a business give me leave to use 
 The help oi'mine own eye.s. 
 
 King. Know'st thou not, Bertram, 
 
 Wiiat she has done for me ? 
 
 Ber. Yes, my good lord : 
 
 But never hope to know why I shoiiid marry her. 
 
 King. Thou know'st, she has rais"d me (rom my 
 sickly bed. 
 
 Ber. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down 
 Must answer for your raising ? I know her well ; 
 iShe had her breeding at my father's charge : 
 A poor physician's daughter my wife I — Disdain 
 Rather corrupt me ever! [wliich 
 
 King. ''J'is only title thou disdain'st in her, the 
 I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, 
 Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all togetiier, 
 Would quite confound distinction, yet stand oft' 
 In differences so mighty : if she be 
 All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st, 
 A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st 
 Of virtue fur the name ; but do not so: 
 From lowest place when virfuons things proceed. 
 The place is dignified by the dof r's deed : 
 Where great additions swell, and virtue none, 
 It is a dropsied honour: good alone 
 Is good, witiiout a name ; vileness is so: 
 The property by what it is should go, 
 Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 
 In these to nature she's immediate heir ; 
 And these breed honour; that is honour's scorn, 
 Which challenges itself as honour's born, 
 And is not like the sire : honours best thrive, 
 When rather from our acts we them derive 
 Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a stave, 
 Debauch'd on every touih; on esery grave, 
 A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
 Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb 
 Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said ? 
 If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
 I can create the rest : virtue, and she. 
 Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me. 
 
 Ber. J cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. 
 
 King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st 
 strive to choose. [glad ; 
 
 Hel. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I am 
 Let the rest go. [feat. 
 
 King. My honour's at the stak» : which to de- 
 I must produce ray power : here, take her hand, 
 Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ; 
 That dost in vile misprision shackle up 
 My love, and her desert; that canst not dream, 
 'We, poizing us in her defective scale, 
 :Shall weigh thee to the beam: that wilt not know, 
 ■It is in us to plant thine honour, where 
 We please to have it grow : Check thy contempt: 
 Obey our will, which travails in thy good : 
 Believe not thy disdain, but presently 
 Do thine own fortunes that obedient right. 
 Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims ; 
 Or I will throw thee from my care for ever, 
 Into the staggers, and the careless lapse [hate. 
 
 Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and 
 Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, 
 VVithout all terms of pity : speak ; thine answer, 
 
 Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
 My fancy to your eyes : when 1 consider, 
 What great creation, and what dole of honour, 
 Fiies where you bid it, I find, that she, which late 
 Was in ray nobler thoughts most base, is now 
 The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled. 
 Is, as 'twere, born so. 
 
 King. Take her by the hand, 
 
 And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise 
 
 A counterpoise ; if not to thy estate, 
 A balance more replete. 
 
 Ber. I take her hand. 
 
 King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king. 
 Smile upon tliis contract; whose cereuiony 
 SImll seem expedient on the new-born brief, 
 And be perform'd tonight: the solemn (east 
 Shall more attend upon tlie coming space. 
 Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, 
 Tiiy love's to me religious: else, d(ies err. 
 
 [Exeunt king. Bertram, Helena, Lords, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Laf. Do you hear, monsieur :" a word with you. 
 
 Par. Your jdeasure, sir ? [recantation. 
 
 haf. ^'our lord and master did well to make his 
 
 Par. Recantation? — .My lord? my master? 
 
 Lnf. Ay ; is it not a language, I speak V 
 
 Laf. A most harsh one ; and not to be understood 
 vvitlioiit bloody succeeding. My master .'' 
 
 Laf. Are you companion to the count R(uisillon ? 
 
 Par. 'J'o any count ; to all counts ; to what is 
 man. [of another style. 
 
 Laf. To what is count's man ; count's master is 
 
 Par. You are too old, sir ; let it satisfy you, you 
 are too old. 
 
 Laf. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to 
 which title age cannot bring thee. 
 
 Par. What I dare too welt do, I dare not do. 
 
 Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be 
 a pretty wise fellow ; thou didst make tolerable vent 
 of thy travel ; it niiglit pass : yet the scarfs, and the 
 bannerets, about thee, did manifoldly dissuade me 
 from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. 
 I have now found thee ; when I lose thee again, I 
 care not : yet art thou i<ood for nothing but taking 
 up ; and that thou art scarce worth. 
 
 Pat. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity 
 upon thee, — 
 
 Laf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, Ie.s( 
 thou hasten thy trial; — which if — Lord have mercy 
 on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, 
 fare thee well ; thy casement I need not open, for I 
 look through i\ice. Give me thy hand. 
 
 Par. My lord, you give me most egregious in- 
 dignity, [of it. 
 
 Laf. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art worthy 
 
 Par. 1 liave not, my lord, deserved it. 
 
 Laf, Yes, good taith, every dram of it; and 1 
 will not bate thee a scruple. 
 
 Par. Well, I shall be wiser. 
 
 Laf. E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to 
 
 Eull at a smack o'the contrary. If ever thou be'st 
 ound in thy scarf, and beaten, thou shalt find what 
 it is to be proud of thy bo; dage. I have a desire 
 to hold my acquaintance witli thee, or rather rny 
 knowledge ; that I may say, in the default, he is a 
 man I know. 
 
 Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable 
 vexation. 
 
 Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and 
 my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past: as 
 will by thee, iu what motion age will give nu 
 leave. [Exit. 
 
 Par. Well, thou hast a son shall take this dis- 
 grace off me ; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord ! — 
 Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of 
 authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet 
 him with any convenience, an he were doable, and 
 double a lord. I'll have uo more pity of his age, 
 than I would have of— I'll beat him, an if 1 conld 
 but meet him again. 
 
 Be -enter Lafeu. 
 
 Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's married, 
 there's news for you; you have a new mistress. 
 
 Par. I most unfeignediy beseech your lordship 
 to make some reservation of your wrongs: he is ny 
 good lord : whom I serve above, is my mf.ste- 
 
 Laf Who? God? 
 
 Par. Ay, sir. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 ALL'? WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 195 
 
 Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost 
 tliou garter up thy arms o' this fasiiion ? dost make 
 liose of thy sleeves? do other servants so ? 'I'hou 
 wert best set thy lo%ver part wlieie thy nose stands. 
 J5y mine honour, if I were but two hours yonnsjer. 
 Id beat thee : niethinks, thou art a general olFence, 
 and every man should beat thee. I think, thou 
 wast created for men to breathe themselves upon 
 thee. [lord. 
 
 Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my 
 haf. Go to, sir ; you were beaten in Italy for 
 picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a 
 vatpibdnd, and no true traveller : you are more saucy 
 with lords, and honourable personages, than the 
 heraldry of your birth and virtues gives you com- 
 fu ssion. You are not worth another word, else I'd 
 call you knave. I leave you. {Exit. 
 
 Enter Beriram. 
 
 Par. Good, very good ; it is so then. — Good, very 
 good ; let it be concealed a while. 
 
 Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! 
 
 Par. What is the matter, sweet heart ? 
 
 Ber. Although before the solemn priest I have 
 I will not bed her. [sworn, 
 
 Par. What? what, sweet heart? 
 
 Ber. O my Parolle:*, they have married me ; — 
 I'll to tlie Tuscan svars, and never bed her. 
 
 Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits 
 The tread of a man's foot : To the wars ! 
 
 Ber. There's letters from my mother; what the 
 1 know not yet. [import is. 
 
 Par. Ay, that would he known : To the wars, my 
 boy, to the wars ! 
 He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
 That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home ; 
 Spending his manly marrow in her arms. 
 Which should sustain the bound and high curvet 
 Of Mars' fiery steed : To other regions ! ~ 
 France is a stable ; we, that dwell iu't, jades ; 
 'I'herefore, to the war! 
 
 Ber. It shall be so ; I'll send her to my house. 
 Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, 
 And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
 Tliat which I durst not speak: his present gift 
 Shall furnish me to those Italian fields. 
 Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife, 
 To the dark house, and the detested wife. 
 
 Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ? 
 
 Ber. Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. 
 I'll send her straight away: to-morrow 
 I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 
 
 Par. Why, these balls bound ; there's noise in it — 
 'Tis hard ; 
 A young man, married, is a man that's marr'd : 
 Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go : 
 'I'he king has done you wrong; but, hush! 'tis so. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. Another Room in t/ie same. 
 Enter Helena and Clown. 
 
 liel. My mother greets me kindly : is she well ? 
 
 Clo. She is not well : but yet she has her health : 
 she's very merry ; but yet she is not vi'ell : but 
 thanks he given, she's very well, and wants nothing 
 i' the world : but yet she is not well. 
 
 Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail. that 
 she's not very well ? [things. 
 
 Clo Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two 
 
 Hel. What two things? 
 
 Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God ' 
 send her quickly! the other, that she's in earth, ; 
 from whence God send her quickly! 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady! 
 
 Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have 
 mine own good fortunes. 
 
 Par. You had my prayers to lead them on ; and 
 io keep them on, have them still. — O, my knave ! 
 
 How does my old lady ? 
 
 Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her 
 money, f would she did as you say. 
 
 Par. Why, I say nothing. 
 
 Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many a 
 man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing : to 
 say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to 
 have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; 
 which is within a very little of nothing. 
 
 Par. Away, thou'rt a knave. 
 
 Clo. Ttou should have said, sir, before a knave 
 tliou art a knave ; that is, before me thou art a 
 knave : this had been truth, sir. [thee. 
 
 Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have ilinnd 
 
 Clo. Did you find me in yourself, sir ? or were you 
 taught to find me ? The search , sir, was profitable ; 
 and much fool may you find in you, even to the 
 world's pleasure, and the increase of laughter. 
 
 Par. A good knave, i'faitli, and well fed. — 
 Madam, my lord will go away to-night; 
 A very serious business calls on him. 
 The great prerogative and rite of love, [ledge , 
 
 Which, as your due, time (-lainis, he does acknow- 
 But puts it oft' by a conipell'd restraint; [sweets. 
 Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed with 
 Which they distil now in the curbed time. 
 To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy. 
 And pleasure drown the brim. 
 
 Hel. ^ What's his will else ? 
 
 Par. That you will take your instant leave o' the 
 king, 
 And make this haste as your own good procee<ling 
 Strengthen'd with what apology you think 
 May make it probable need. 
 
 Hel. What more commands he ? 
 
 Par. That, ha\ ing this obtain'd, you presently 
 Attend his further pleasure. 
 
 Hel. In every thing I wait upon his will. 
 
 Par. I shall report it so. 
 
 Hsl. I pray you.— Come, sirrah. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene V. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Lafeu and Bertram. 
 
 Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a 
 soldier. 
 Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. 
 Laf. You have it from his own deliverance. 
 Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 
 
 Laf. Then my dial goes not true ; I took, this lark 
 for a bunting. 
 
 Ber. I do assure you, my lord, he is v*ry great in 
 knowledge, and accordingly valiant. 
 
 Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, 
 and transgressed against his valour; and my state 
 that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my 
 heart to re])ent. Here he comes ; I pray you, make 
 us friends, I will pursue the amity. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. These things shall be done, sir. {To Ber.) 
 
 Laf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor ? 
 
 Par. Sir? 
 
 Laf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir; he, sir, is a 
 good workman, a very good tailor. 
 
 Ber. Is she gone to the king ? {Aside to Parolits.) 
 
 Par. She is. 
 
 Ber. Will she away to-night ? 
 
 Par. As you'll have her. 
 
 Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure. 
 Given orders for our horses; and to-night. 
 When I should take possession of the bride,— ',' 
 And, ere 1 do begin, ^ 
 
 Laf. A good traveller is something at the latter 
 end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds, and 
 uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with 
 sliotdd be once heard, and thrice beaten. — God save 
 you. captain. 
 
 Ber. Is there any unkindness between ray lord 
 and you, monsieur? 
 
196 
 
 ALL'S AVELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into 
 iny lord's displeasure. 
 
 Laf. Yon have made shift to rnn into't, boots and 
 spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard ; 
 and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer 
 question for your residence. 
 
 Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord. 
 
 haf. And shall do so ever, though 1 took him at 
 his prayers. Fare you well, my lord ; and believe 
 this of me, There can be no kernel in this light nut; 
 the soul of this man is his clothes : (rust him not in 
 matter of heavy consequence ; I have kept of them 
 tame, and know their natures. — Farewell, monsieur : 
 I have spoken better of you, than you have or will 
 deserve at my hand ; but we must do good against 
 evil. [Exit. 
 
 Par. An idle lord, I swear. 
 
 Ber. I think so. 
 
 Par. Why, do you not know him ? [speech 
 
 Ber. Yes, I do know him well / and common 
 Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. 
 
 Enter Helena. 
 
 Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded from yon. 
 Spoke with the king, and have procur'd his leave 
 For present parting ; only he desires 
 Some private speech with you. 
 
 Ber. I shall obey lus will. 
 
 Yoti fnust not marvel, Helena, at my course, 
 Which holds not colour with the time, nor does 
 The ministration and required otiice 
 On my parUculur: piepar'd I was not 
 For such a business ; tlierefore am 1 found 
 So much unsettled : This drives me to entreat you, 
 'I'liiit presently you take your way for home ; 
 And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you: 
 For my respects are better than they seem ; 
 And my appointments have in them a need, 
 Greater than stiews itself, at the first view. 
 To you, that know tliem not. This to my mother : 
 
 {Giving a letter.) 
 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so 
 I leiive you to your wisdom. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I can nothing say, 
 
 But that I am your most obedient servant. 
 
 Ber Coaie, come, no more of that. 
 
 tfel. And ever shall, 
 
 With true observance, seek to eke out that. 
 Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd 
 To equal my great fortune. 
 
 Ber. Let that go : 
 
 My haste is very great : Farewell ; hie home. 
 
 Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. 
 
 Ber. Well, what would you say ? 
 
 Hel I am not worthy of the wealth 1 owe ; 
 Nor dare I say, 'tis mine ; and yet it is ; 
 But, like a timorous thief, most lain would steal 
 Wtiat law does vouch mine own. 
 
 Ber. Wiiat would you have ? 
 
 Hel. Something; and scarce so much : — nothing, 
 indeed. — 
 ( would Dot tell you what I would : my lord — 
 
 'faith, yes ; — 
 Strangers, and toes, do sunder, and not kiss. 
 
 Ber. 1 pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. 
 
 Hel. 1 shall not break your bidding, good my 
 lord. 
 
 Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur? — 
 Farewell. [Exit Helena. 
 
 Go thou toward home ; jvhere I will never come. 
 Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the drum : — 
 A\v'.»y, and lor our Hight. 
 
 Par. Bravely, coragio 1 [Exeunt. 
 
 ' ACT HI. 
 
 ttcENE I. — Florence. A Room in the Duke s Palace. 
 Flourish. Enter the, DuKE OF FLORENCE, attetidcd; 
 two French Lords, and others. 
 Uuie. So that, from point to point, now have you 
 I heard 
 
 The fundamental reasons of this war; 
 
 Whose great decision hath much blood let forth. 
 
 And more thirsts after. 
 
 1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 
 Upon your grace's part; black and fearful 
 
 On the opposer. [France 
 
 Dithe. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin 
 Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom 
 Against our borrowing prayers. 
 
 2 Lord. Good my Jord. 
 The reasons of our state I cannot yield, 
 
 But like a comii'.on and an outward man, 
 That the great figure of a council frames 
 By self-unable motion : therefore dare not 
 Say what I think of it; since 1 have found 
 Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail 
 As often as I guess'd. 
 
 Duke. Be it his pleasure. 
 
 2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our nature. 
 That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day. 
 Come here for physic. 
 
 Duke. Welcome shall they.be ; 
 
 And all the honours, that can fly from us. 
 Shall on them settle. You know your places well; 
 VVhen better full, tor your avails they fell : 
 To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Rousillon. A Room in the Cc unless' s 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Countess and Clown. 
 
 Count. It hath happened all as I would have had 
 it, save, that he comes not along with her. 
 
 Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a 
 very melancholy man. 
 
 Count. By what observance, I pray you ? 
 
 Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and sing; 
 mind the ruff, and sing; ask questions, and sing; 
 pick his teeth, and sing : I know a man that had this 
 trick of melancholy, sold a goodly manor for a song. 
 
 Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he 
 means to come. [Opening a letter.) 
 
 Clo. I have no mind to Ishel, since I was at 
 court : our old ling and our Isbels o' the country 
 are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the 
 court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out; and 
 I begin to love, as an old man loves money, wth no 
 
 Count. What have we here? [stomach. 
 
 Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit. 
 
 Count. ( Beads ) / have sent yott a daught&f-iti- 
 lato : she hat A recovered the king, and undone m". 
 I have ivedded her, not bedded Iter ; and sworn to 
 make the not eternal. \ou shall hear, J a7n run 
 away ; know it. he/ore the report come. If there 
 be breadth enough in the loorld, J.ioill hold a long 
 distance. My duty to you. 
 
 Your unfortunate son, Bertraim. 
 This is not well, rash and unbridled boy. 
 To fly the favours of so good a king; 
 To pluck his indignation on thy head. 
 By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous 
 For the contempt of empire. 
 
 Re-enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news within, 
 between two soldiers and my young lady. 
 
 Count. What is the matter? 
 
 Clo. Nay, there is sojne comfort in the news, some 
 comfort : your son will not be killed so soon as I 
 thought he would. 
 
 Count. Why shonUl he be kill'd ? 
 
 C/o. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear 
 he does : the danger is in standing to't ; that's the 
 loss of men, though it be the getting of ciiildren. 
 Here they come, will tell you more : for my part, I 
 only hear, your son was run away. [Exit Clovn, 
 
 Enter Helena and two Getitlemett. 
 
 1 Gen. Save you, good madam. 
 
 Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. 
 
 2 Gen. Do not say so. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 197 
 
 Count. Think upon patience. — "Pray you, crentle- 
 I have felt so many quirks ol'joy, and giief, [lueii,— 
 Tiiat the tiist (ace ot neither, on the start, [you ? 
 
 Can woman nie iinto't. — Wiiere is my son, I pray 
 
 2 Gent. Madam, he's gone to serve tlie dulie of 
 Florence : 
 We met him liiitherward ; from thence we came. 
 And, after some despatch in hand at court, 
 Tliither we bend again. [port. 
 
 Hel. Look, on Ins letter, madam ; here's my pass- 
 (Reads.) When thou cattst yet the ring upon my 
 finger, which never shall come off, and shew me %! 
 child begotten of thy body, that I am father to, 
 then call me /aixband : but in such a then / write 
 « never. 
 This is a dreadful sentence. 
 
 Count. Brought you tliis letter, gentlemen ? 
 
 1 Ge?iC. Ay, madam ; 
 And, fur the contents' sake, are sorry <"or our pains. 
 
 Count. I pi'ythee, lady, have a better cheer; 
 If tuou engrossest all tlie griefs are thine, 
 Tliou robbst (iie of a (poiety : He was my son ; 
 liut I do vvasli his name out of my blood, 
 .\nd thou art all my child. —Towards Florence is lie? 
 
 2 Gent. Ay, madam. 
 
 Count. And to be a soldier? 
 
 '2 Gent. JSiich is his noble purpose; and, believ't, 
 Tlie duke will lay u|X)n him all tiie honour 
 That good convenience claims. 
 
 Count. Return you thither ? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, mndarn, with the swiitest wing of 
 speed. 
 
 Hel. [Reads.) Till I have no tinfe, I luive uo- 
 ihing in France. 
 
 Cttwii. Find you that there ? 
 
 Hel. Ay, madam. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis but the boldness of his liand, haply. 
 His heart was not consenting to. [winch 
 
 Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wile I 
 There's nothing here, that is too good ibr him, 
 But only she ; and she deserves a lord, 
 Tli.it twenty such rude bojs might tend upon, 
 And call her hourly. inistie«s. Who was with him? 
 
 1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman 
 Wliicli 1 have some time known. 
 
 Couiil. ParoUes, was't not ? 
 
 1 Gent. Ay, my goo;l lady, he. [ness. 
 Cvunl. A very tainted lellow, and lull of wicked- 
 
 My son corrupts a well-derived nature 
 W itli his inducement. 
 
 i Gent. Indeed, good lady. 
 
 The fellow has a deal ol that, too much, 
 Which holds him much to have. 
 
 Count. You are welcome, gentlemen 4 
 f will entreat you, when you see my son. 
 To tell him, that his sword caq never win 
 Ttie honour that he loses . more I'll entreat you 
 Written to bear along. 
 
 2 Gent. We serve yon, madarn. 
 In that and all your wortliiest atfairs. 
 
 Count. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. 
 Will you draw near? 
 
 [Exeunt Count, and Gentlemen. 
 
 Hel. Till I have no wije, I have nothing in 
 France. 
 Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! 
 Thou Shalt have none, KousiUou, none in France, 
 Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is t I 
 That chase tiiee from thy country, and expose 
 Those tender limbs ol' ttiine to tlie event 
 Of the none Sparing war? and is it I, 
 Thai driie thee (roin the sportive court, where thou 
 Wast Shot at witii (air eyes, to be the mark 
 Ol smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, 
 I'hat ride upon the violent speed of (ire. 
 Fly witli (alse aim ; move tiie still piercing air, 
 i'hat sin^s witu piercing, do not touch my lord J 
 Whoever shoots at hiiu, 1 set hiui there; 
 Whoever charges on his lorward breast, 
 J am the caitift", that do hold him to't •- 
 
 And, though I kill hiiii not, 1 am the cause 
 
 His death was so etl'ected : better 'twere, 
 
 1 met the ravin lion when he loard 
 
 With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere 
 
 That all the miseries, which nature owes, [sillon. 
 
 Were mine at once : No, come thou home, lion. 
 
 Whence honour but of danger wins a scar. 
 
 As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : 
 
 My being here it is, that holds thee hence : 
 
 Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although 
 
 The air o( Paradise did (an the house. 
 
 And angels otKc'd all : I will be gone ; 
 
 'i'hat pitiful rumour may report my flight, 
 
 To consolate tliine ear. Come, uight; end, day; 
 
 For, with the dark, poor thiel, 111 steal away. [Exit 
 
 Scene IIL — Florence. Before the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter the Duke op Florence, Ber- 
 tram, Lords, Ojficers, Soldiers, and others. 
 Duke. The general ol our horse thou art; and we. 
 
 Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence 
 
 Ui<on thy promising (ortune. 
 Ber. Sir, it is 
 
 A charge too heavy for my strength ; but yet 
 
 We'll strive to bear it for your Worthy sake. 
 
 To the extreme edge o( hazard. 
 
 Duke. I'heii go thou forth ; 
 
 And lortune play upon thy prosperous helm. 
 
 As thy auspicious m. stress I 
 Ber. This very day. 
 
 Great Mars, I put myself into tiiy file ; 
 
 Make me but like my thoughts ; and 1 shall pro^e 
 
 A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — RousHIoil. A Room in t/ie Countess's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter CouNTE.ss and Steward. 
 
 Count. Alas! and would you take the letter of 
 her ? 
 Might you not know, she would do as she has done. 
 By sending me a letter ? Read it again. 
 
 Stew. 1 ojn St. Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone ; 
 Ambitious love hath so in me offended, 
 That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon. 
 
 With sainted vow myfauits to have amended. 
 Write, write, that.jrom the bloody course of war. 
 
 My dearest master, your dear son, may hie ; 
 Bless him at home in peace, whilst I Jromjar, 
 
 His name with zealous jervour sanctify : 
 His taken labours bid him me Jorgive ; 
 
 I. his despiteful Juno, sent tiitn forth 
 From courtly jribnds, icith camping foes to lire. 
 
 W here death and danger dog the heels ofu orth : 
 He is too good and fair J or death and 7ne ; 
 fFhom I myself embrace, to set him free. 
 
 Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest 
 
 words ! 
 
 Rinaldo, you did never lack advice eo much. 
 As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, 
 I could have well diverted her intents. 
 Which thus she hath prevented. 
 
 Stew. Pardon me, madam : 
 
 If J had given you this at over-night. 
 She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she writes, 
 Pursuit would be in vain. 
 
 Count. What angel shall 
 
 Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive. 
 Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hesT 
 And loves to grant, re}»ieve him from the wrath 
 Ol'greatest justice. — Write, write, Uinaldo, 
 'I'o this unworthy husband of his wife ; 
 Let every word weigh heavy of her worth. 
 That he does weigh too light : my greatest grief. 
 Though little he do fv-el it, set down sharply. 
 Despatch the most convenient messenger : — 
 When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone, 
 We will return and hope I may, that she. 
 Hearing so much, will speed her foot again. 
 Led hither by pure love : which ol them both 
 Js dearest to uie, 1 have no skill in sense 
 
198 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 To make distinction : — Provide this messenger : — 
 My heart is heavy, aud mine age is weali ; 
 Clrief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. 
 
 [Exeiint. 
 
 Scene \.— Without the Walls of Florence. 
 
 A tucket afar off. Enter an old IFidoiv of Flo- 
 rence, Diana, Violenta, Mariana, and other 
 Citizens. 
 
 Wid. Nay, come ; for if they do approach the 
 city, we sliall lose all tiie sight. 
 
 Dia. They say, the French count has done most 
 honourable service. 
 
 ff'id. It is reported that lie has taken their 
 g;reatest commander : and that with his own hand 
 he slew the duke's brother. We have, lost our la- 
 bour : they are gone a contrary way : hark ! you 
 may know by their trumpets. 
 
 Mar. Come, let's return again, and suffice our- 
 selves with tlie report of it. VVell, Diana, take 
 heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is 
 her name ; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. 
 
 Wid. 1 ha\e told my neighbour, how you have 
 been solicited by a gentleman his companion. 
 
 Mar. I know that kna\e; hang hiiu ! one Pa- 
 rolles ; a hltiiy officer he is in those suggestions fu- 
 tile young earl. — Beware of tuein, Diana ; their 
 promises, enticements, oiitiis, tokens, and all these 
 engines of lust, are not the things tliey go under : 
 many a maid hatii been seduced by tiiein; and tiie 
 misery is, example, that so terrible sliows in the 
 wreck of maideuiiuod, cannot tor all that dissuade 
 succession, but they are limed with the twigs that 
 threaten them. 1 hope, 1 need not to advise you 
 turtlier : but, 1 hope, your own grace will keep you 
 where you are, ttioiigh there were no further danger 
 known, but the modesty which is so lost. 
 Dia. Vou sliall not need to fear me. 
 
 Enter Helena, in the dress of a pilgrim. 
 
 fVid. 1 hope so. L )ok, here comes a pilgrim : 
 
 I know she will lie at my house : thitlier they seud 
 
 one another : I'll question her. — 
 
 God save you, pilgrim! VVliither are you bound'? 
 
 Hel, To Saint Jaqiies le grand. 
 Where do the palmers lodge, 1 do beseech you ? 
 
 JVid. At the Saint Francis liere, beside tiie port. 
 
 Hel. Is this the way ? 
 
 IVid. Ay, marry, is it. — Haik you ! 
 
 (A march afar off.) 
 They come this way : — If you will tarry, holy pil- 
 But till the troops come by, [grim, 
 
 I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd ; 
 The rather, tor, I tiiiuk, 1 know your hostess 
 As ample as myself 
 
 Hel. ' Is it yourself? 
 
 If id. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 
 
 Hel. 1 thank jou, and will stay upon your leisure. 
 
 Jfid. You came, 1 think, from France V 
 
 Hel. I did so. 
 
 (Fid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours. 
 That has done worthy service. 
 
 Hel. His name, I pray you. 
 
 Dia. The count Kuusillon : Know you such a 
 one '•* [him ; 
 
 Hel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of 
 His lace 1 know not. 
 
 Dia. Whatsoe'er he is. 
 
 He's bravely taken. He stole from France, 
 As 'tis reported, tor the king had married him 
 Against his liking : Think you it is so i 
 
 Hel. Ay, surely, mere the truth ; 1 know his lady. 
 
 Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count. 
 Reports but coarsely of her 
 
 Hel. What's his name ? 
 
 Dia. Monsieur Parolles. 
 
 Hel. O, I believe with him. 
 
 In argument of praise, or to the worth 
 Of the great count himself, she is too mean 
 Toha>e her name repeated; all her deserving 
 
 Is a reserved honesty, and that 
 1 have not heard exauiin'd. 
 
 Dia. Alas, poor lady I 
 
 'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife 
 Of a detesting lord. 
 
 IVid. A riglit good creature : wheresoe'er she is. 
 Her heart weighs sadly : this young maid might do 
 A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. [her 
 
 Hel, How do you mean * 
 
 May Le, the amorous count solicits her 
 In the unlawful purpose. 
 * Wid. He does, indeed ; 
 
 And brokes with all that can in such a suit 
 Corrupt the tender honour ol a maid : 
 But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard 
 In honestest defence. 
 
 Enter with drum and colours, a parly of the Flo- 
 rentine army, bERfRA><, and Parolles. 
 
 Mar. The gods forbid else ! 
 
 fVid. So, now they come : 
 
 That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son ; 
 'i'hat, Escalus. 
 
 Hel. Which is the Frenchman ? 
 
 Dia. He ; 
 
 That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow ; 
 I would, he lov'd his wife : it he were hoiiester. 
 He were much goodlier : — Is't not a haiidsoiwe 
 
 Hel. I like him well. (gentleman i 
 
 Dia. 'Tis piiy, he is not honest: — "ioud'.s that 
 same knave. 
 That leads him to these places ; were I his lady, 
 I'd poison that vile rascal. 
 
 Hel. Which is he ? 
 
 Dia. That jackan-ajjes with scarfs: Why is he 
 melancholy t 
 
 Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'the battle. 
 
 Par. Lose our drum ! well. 
 
 Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something; Look, 
 he has spied us. 
 
 Wid. Marry, hang you ! 
 
 Mar. And )our courtesy, for a ring-carrier ! 
 
 [Exeunt Hfrtram, Parolles, Officers, 
 and Solditrs. 
 
 Wid. The troop is past : Come, pilgrim, I will 
 bring you 
 Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents 
 There's four or five, to great Saint jaques bound, 
 Already at my house. 
 
 Hel. I humbly thank you : 
 
 Please it this matron, and this gentle maid. 
 To eat with us to-night, the charge, and thanking. 
 Shall be for me ; and. to requite you i'urlher, 
 I will bestow some precepts on this virgin. 
 Worthy the note. 
 
 Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene VI. — Camp before Florence. 
 Enter Bertram, and the ttvo French Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. ]Say, good my lord, put him to t ; let hint 
 have Ins way. 
 
 2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a Uilding. 
 hold me no more in your respect. 
 
 1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a bubble. 
 
 Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in hiuv? 
 
 1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct 
 knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him 
 as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an iii- 
 tinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, 
 the owner of no one good quahty wortiiy your lord- 
 ship's entertainment. 
 
 ^ Lord. It were tit you knew him; lest, reposing 
 too lar in Ins virtue, which he hath not, he might, 
 at some great and trusty busines.s, iu a main danger, 
 fail you. . I'o try iiim. 
 
 Ber. I would I knew in what particul.ir action 
 
 2 Lord None better than to let him fetch olf his 
 di mil, wliich you hear hiiu so confulently undertake 
 to do. 
 
 1 Lord. I, with a troop of FU»i»-utiiies, will siid 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 199 
 
 tlenly surprise him; such I will have, whom, I am 
 sure, he knows not from the enemy : we will bind 
 ;aid hood wink him so, that he shall suppose no 
 utile r but that he is carried into the leaguer of the 
 iiJi-ersaries, when we bring him to our tents : lie 
 itiit your lordship present at his examination; if he 
 .lo not, for the promise of his life, and in the highest 
 v;T)rapiilsion of base fear, oiler to betray you, and 
 deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, 
 and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon 
 oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. 
 
 2 Lord. O, for tlie love of laughter, let him fetch 
 his drum ; he says, he has a stratagem for't : when 
 your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, 
 and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will 
 be melted, if you give hiui not John Drum's enter- 
 tainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here 
 he comes. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not 
 die humour of his design; let him fetch otf his 
 drum in any hand. 
 
 Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks 
 sorely in your disposition. 
 
 2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. 
 Par. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so 
 
 lost I — There was an excellent command ! to charge 
 ill with our horse upon our own wings, and \o rend 
 our own soldiers. 
 
 2 Lord. 'I'hat was not to be blamed in the com- 
 mand of the service; it was a disaster of war that 
 Cassar himself could not have pre vei.ted, if he had 
 been there to coininaud. 
 
 Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our suc- 
 tess: some dishonour we had in the loss of that 
 «)rum ; but it is not to be recovered. 
 
 Par. It might nave been recovered. 
 
 Ber. It might, but it is not now. 
 
 Par. It is to be recovered : but that the merit oi 
 service is seldom attributed to the true and exact 
 performer, I would have that drum or another, or 
 hicjacet. 
 
 Ber. Wliy, if you have a stomach to't, monsieur, 
 if you think your ra\stery in stratagem can bring 
 this instrument of honour again into his native 
 quarter, be mayuanimous in tlie enterprize, and go 
 on ; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit : 
 if you speea well in it, the duke shall both speak 
 of it, and extend to you what further becomes 
 his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your 
 tvorthiiiess. 
 
 Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. 
 
 Ber. But yen must not now slumber in it. 
 
 Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will pre- 
 sently pen down ray dilemmas, encourage myself 
 in my certainty, put myself info my mortal prepara- 
 tion, and. by midnight, look to hear further trom me. 
 
 Ber. M :y 1 be bold to acquaint his grace, you 
 are gone about it ? 
 
 Par. I know not what the success will be, my 
 lord ; but the attempt I vow. 
 
 Ber. 1 know, thou art valiant; and, to the pos- 
 sibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Par. I love not many words. [Exit, 
 
 1 Lord. No more tiian a fish loves water. — Is 
 uot this a strange fellow, my lord'/ tiiat so coufi 
 dently seems to undertake Jiis business, which lie 
 knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, ami 
 dares better be damned than to do't. 
 
 2 Lord. Vou do not know him, my lord, as we 
 do: certain it is, that he will steal himself into a 
 man's favour, and, for a week, escape a great deal 
 of discoveries; but when you find him out, you 
 have him ever after. 
 
 Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed 
 at all ol this, that so seriously he does address 
 himself uuto? 
 
 1 Lord. None in the world ; but return with an 
 
 invention, and clap upon you two or three probable 
 lies: but we have almost embossed him, you shall 
 see his fall to-night; lor, indeed, he is not for your 
 lordship's re«pect. 
 
 2 Lord. VVe'll make you some sport with the 
 fox, ere we case him. He was first suioked by the 
 old lord Liifeu : when his disguise and he is parted, 
 tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you 
 shall see this veiy nighL [<'aiight. 
 
 1 Lord. I must go look my twigs; he shall be 
 Ber. Your brother, he shall go along witli me. 
 
 1 Lord. As't please your lordship : I'll leave yon. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show 
 
 The lass I spoke of. fyon 
 
 2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest. 
 Ber. That's all the fault : I spoke with her but once, 
 
 And found her wondrous cold; but 1 sent to her. 
 By this same coxcomb that we have i'the wind. 
 Tokens and letters, which she did re-send; 
 And this is all I have done : She's a fair creature; 
 Will you go see her? 
 2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene N\l.— Florence. A Room in the JFidoui's 
 , House. 
 
 Enter Helena and TVidow. 
 
 Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
 I know not how I shall assure you further. 
 But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. 
 
 fVid. Though my estate be fallen, I was well born. 
 Nothing acquainted with these businesses; 
 And would not put my reputation now 
 In any staining act. 
 
 Hel. Nor would I wish you. 
 
 First, give me trust, the count he is my husband; 
 And, what to your sworn counsel I have spoken. 
 Is so, from word to word ; and then you cannot, 
 By the good aid that I of you shall borrow. 
 Err in bestowing it. 
 
 If id. I should believe you ; 
 
 For you have show'd me that, which well approves 
 You are great in tbrtune. 
 
 Hel. Take this purse of gold. 
 
 And let me buy your friendly help thus far. 
 Which 1 will over-pay, and pay again. 
 When I have found it. 'I'he <;ount he wooes youi 
 
 daughter. 
 Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, 
 Resohes to carry her; let her, in tine, consent. 
 As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it, 
 Now his important blood will nought deny. 
 That she'll demand : A ring the coimty wears 
 That downward hath succeeded in his house. 
 From son to son, some (our or five descents. 
 Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds 
 In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire, 
 To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
 Howe'er repented after. 
 
 IVid. Now, I see 
 
 The bottom of your purpose. 
 
 Hel. You see it lawful then: It is no more. 
 But that your daughter, ere she seems as won. 
 Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; 
 In fine, delivers me to fill the time. 
 Herself most chastely absent; after this, 
 To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns 
 To what s past already. 
 
 Tf id. I have yielded ; 
 
 Instruct my daughter how she shall pei sever, 
 'I'liat time and place, with this deceit so lawful, 
 Miy prove coherent. Every night he comes 
 With musics of all soris, and songs compos'd 
 To her unvyorthiness: It notliiiig steads us 
 To chide him from our eaves; tor he persisLo, 
 As if his life lay on't. 
 
 Ht^l- Why then, to-night 
 
 Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, 
 Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed. 
 
200 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And lawful meanino; in a lawful act; 
 Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact ; 
 But let's about it. 
 
 Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene L — Without the Florentine Camp. 
 
 Enter first Lord, with five or six Soldiers in 
 ambush. 
 
 1 Jjord. He can come no other way but by this 
 hedge' corner: When you sally ujjoii liiin, speak 
 what terrible language you will; tliougii you un- 
 derstaijd it not yourselves, no matter: lor we must 
 not seem to understand him ; unless some one among 
 Hs, whom we must produce for an interpreter. 
 
 1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the mterpreter. 
 
 1 Lord. Art not acquainted witli hiiu? knows 
 he not thy voice ? 
 
 1 Sold. No, sir, I warrant you. 
 
 I Lord. Rut what linsy-woolsy hast thou to 
 speak to us again ? 
 
 1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me. 
 
 1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers 
 i'the adversary's entertainment. Now he hatu a 
 smack of all neighbouring languages; tlierefore we 
 must every one be a man ot his owki fancy, not to 
 know what we speak one (o another; so we seem 
 to know, is to know straight our purpose : chough's 
 language, gabble enough, and good enough. As 
 for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. 
 But, couch, ho I here he comes ; to beguile two 
 hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the 
 lies he forges. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Par. Ten o'clock : within these three hours 'twill 
 be time enough to go home. What shall 1 say I 
 have done V it must be a very plausive invention 
 that carries it : They begin to smoke me ; and dis- 
 graces have of late knocked too often at my door. 
 I find, my tongue is loo fool-h rdy; but my heart 
 hatli the lear ol Mars before it, and of his creatures, 
 not daring the reports of my tongue. 
 
 1 Lord. This is tlie first truth that e'er thine own 
 tongue was guilty of. [Aside.) 
 
 Par. What the devil should move me to under- 
 take the recovery of this drum ; being not ignorant 
 of tlie impossibility, and knowing 1 had no such 
 
 i)urpo9e? 1 must gi\e myself some hurts, and say, 
 I got them in exploit : Vet slight ones will not 
 carry it : 'I'hey will say. Came you otj" with so little ? 
 and great ones 1 dare not give. Wherefore i what's 
 the instance V 'I'ongue, I must put you into a but- 
 ter-woman's mouth, and buy another of Bajazet's 
 mule, if you prattle me into these perils. 
 
 1 Lord. Is it possible, he should know what he 
 is, and be what he is? {Aside.) 
 
 Par. I would the cutting of my garments would 
 serve the turn; or the breaking of my Spanish 
 sword. 
 
 1 Lord. We cannot aflford you so. {Aside) 
 
 Par. Or the baring of uiy beard ; and to say, it 
 was in stratagem. 
 
 I Lord. ''1' would not do. {Aside.) 
 
 Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say, i was 
 Ktri, |>ed. 
 
 1 Lord. Hardly serve. {Aside.} 
 
 Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window 
 of the citadel 
 
 1 Lord. How deep? {Aside.) 
 
 Par. Tnirty fathom. 
 
 1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce miike 
 that he believed. {Aside.) 
 
 Par. I would, I had any drum of the enemy's ; 
 I wipuld swear 1 had recovered it. 
 
 1 Lord. You shall liear one anon. {Aside) 
 
 Par. A drum now of the enemy's I 
 
 [Alarum %vithm.) 
 
 1 Lord. Throca movousus, caryo, cunjo, canjo. 
 
 Au. Caryo, caryo, vUlianda, pur corbo, caryo. 
 
 Par. 01 ransonie, ransome . — Do not hide mine 
 eyes. ( T/iey seize him, and htindjvld him.\ 
 
 I Sold. Boskos thromiddo boskos. 
 
 Par. I know you are the Muskos legiuient. 
 And 1 shall lose my life for want ot'l-mgiiage : 
 If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, ' 
 Italian, or French, let him speak to me, 
 I will discover that wlncii shall undo 
 The Florentine. 
 
 \ Sold. Boskos vanv ado : 
 
 I understand tliee, and can speak thy tongue : 
 
 Kerelybonto : tiir, 
 
 liriake thee to ttiy lailli, for seventeen poniards 
 Are at tiiy bosoui. 
 
 Par. Oh ! 
 
 1 Sold. O, pray, pray, pray. 
 
 Mankarevania dulche. 
 
 I Lord. Oscorbi dulchos vulivorca. 
 
 1 Sold. The general is content to sir.tre tht e yet; 
 And, hood wink'd as thou art, will lead taee on 
 'l'og;itlier from thee; liaply, thou may'st lijform 
 Siiinething to save thy lile. 
 
 Par, O, let me live, 
 
 And all the secrets of our camp I'll s..ow. 
 Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll Sjieak that. 
 Which you will wonder at. 
 
 1 Sold. But wilt t'nou faithfully? 
 
 Par. If I do not, damn me. 
 
 1 Sold. Acordo linta. 
 
 Come on, thou art granted space. 
 
 I Exit, with Parolles guarded. 
 
 1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousiilon, and my 
 
 brother, [muffled. 
 
 We have caught the woodcock, and will keep hin^ 
 Till we do hear from them. 
 
 2 Sold. Captain, I will. 
 
 1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves ;— 
 Inform 'em that. 
 
 2 Sold. So I will, sir. 
 
 1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely 
 lock'd. lExeu7it. 
 
 Scene II. — Florence. A Room in ike Widotv's 
 
 House. 
 
 Efiter Bertram and Diana. 
 
 Ber. They tol I me, that your name was FontibelK 
 
 Via. No, my good lord, Diana. 
 
 Ber. Titled goddess ; . 
 
 And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul. 
 In your fine frame hath love no quality ? 
 If the quick lire of youth light not your raiud, 
 Vou are no maiden, but a iiioniiiiient : 
 When you are deiid, you should be such a oue 
 As you are now, for you are cold and siera; 
 And now you should be as your mother was. 
 When your sweet self was got. 
 
 Dia. She then was .'lonest. 
 
 Ber. So should you be. 
 
 Dia. No : 
 
 My mother did but duty ; such, my lord. 
 As you owe to your wife. 
 
 Ber. No more of that ! 
 
 I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows : 
 I was compell'd to her; but I love thee 
 By lo> e's own sweet conslraint, and will for ever 
 Do thee all rights of service. 
 
 Dia. Ay, so you serve us. 
 
 Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, 
 Y'ou-barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves. 
 And mock us with our bareness. 
 
 Ber. How have I sworn" 
 
 Dia. 'Tis not the innny oaths, that make the truth 
 But the plain single vow, that is vow d true. 
 What is not hi.ly, that we swt-ar lu.t by. 
 But take the Highest to witness: Then, 
 
 tell me. 
 If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, 
 1 lov'd you dearly, wniild you believe iny oatli.s. 
 When 1 did lo\e vou ill? this has no holdiuj;, 
 'I'o swear by him whom 1 protest to love, 
 
 pray jou. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 201 
 
 TliHt I will work against him therefdre, your oaths 
 
 Are words, and pour conditions; but iiiisrai'd ; 
 
 Al It-Mst. in my opinion. 
 
 ■ Ber Channe it, change it ; 
 
 I',e not so holy-cruel : love is lioly ; 
 
 A rid my integrity ne'er knew the crafts, 
 
 That yi u do charge men with : stand no more ofl'. 
 
 But j;iie thyself II to my sick desires, 
 
 Whn then recover: say, thou art mine, and ever 
 
 My love, as it begins, shall so persever. 
 
 Dia. I see, tliat men ma^e hopes, in such affairs, 
 That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me tliat ring'. 
 
 Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power 
 To yive it from me. 
 
 D/a. Will you not, my lord ? 
 
 Ber. It is an honour 'loiigitig^ to our house, 
 Beqiieatlied down from many ancestors; 
 Wliicii were the greatest obloquy in the world 
 In me to lose. 
 
 . Dia. Mine honour's s ich a ring: 
 
 My chastity's the jewel of our house, 
 Beque:ith -d down from many ancestors ; 
 Which were the greatest obiiiqiiy in the world 
 In ine to lose: thus your own proper wisdom 
 Brings ill the champion honour on my part. 
 Against your vain assault. 
 
 Ber.' Here, take my ring: 
 
 My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine, 
 .4nd I'll be hid by thee. [ber window; 
 
 Dia. VVhen midnight comes, knock at ii;y chain- 
 ril Older take, my mother stiall not hear. 
 Now will I charge you in the band of truth. 
 When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, 
 Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me : 
 My reasons are most strong, and you shall know 
 
 them, 
 tVhen back again this ring shall be delivered : 
 And on jour finger, in the night, I'll put 
 Another ring; tiiat, what in time proceeds. 
 May token to tlie future our past deeds. 
 Adieu, till then; then, fail not: you have won 
 A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 
 
 B.ir. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing 
 ihee. [Exit. 
 
 Dia. For which live long to thank both heaven 
 and me ! 
 
 Y'ou niiy so in the end. 
 
 My mother tdid me just how lie would woo, 
 As if she sal in his heart; she says, all men 
 Havf the like oaths- he had sworn to marry me, 
 When his wife's dead ; therefore I'll lie with liim. 
 When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid. 
 Marry tiiat will, I'll live and die a maid : 
 Only in this disguise, 1 tliink't no sin 
 To cozen him, that would unjustly win. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III.— T^e Florentine Camp. 
 
 Enter the two French Lords, and two or three 
 Soldiers. 
 
 1 Lord. You have not given him his mother's 
 
 letter !' 
 
 2 Lord. I have deliver'd it an iiour since : there 
 is something in't, that stings his nature; tor, on tiie 
 reading it. he changed alin.ist into another man. 
 
 1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid upon him, 
 for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady. 
 
 2 Lord. Especially he Initii incurred the everlast- 
 ing displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his 
 bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a 
 thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. 
 
 1 Lord Wiien you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and ] 
 I am tile gtave ol it. 1 
 
 2 Lord. He hatii perverted a young gentlewoman ' 
 here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this 
 night he (leshes his will in the spoil of her honour: 
 he hath niven her Ills uioimmentai ring, and thinks 
 himselt made in the uncliaste composition. 
 
 1 Lord. Now, Cod delay our rebellion ; as we 
 ■re ourselves, what things are we I 
 
 2 L.ird. Merely our own traitors. And as, in the 
 
 common course of all treasons, we still see thero 
 reveal themselves, till tiiey attain to their abhorred 
 ends ; so he, that in this action contrives against his 
 own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. 
 
 1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be 
 trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not 
 thr-n have his company to-night'/ 
 
 2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted 
 to his iiour. 
 
 1 Lord. That approaches apace : I would gladly 
 have him see his company anatomized ; tiiat he 
 niight take a measure of his own judgments, where- 
 in so curiously he had set this counterfeit. 
 
 2 Lord. \Ve will not meddle with him, till he 
 come ; for his presence must be the whip of the 
 other. [wars 'f 
 
 1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these 
 
 2 Lord. 1 hear, there is an overture of peace. 
 
 1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. 
 
 2 Lord. What will count Ilousillondo tiien? will 
 he travel higlier, or return again into France l 
 
 1 Lord. 1 perceive, by this demand, you are not 
 altogetiier of his council. 
 
 2 Lord. Let it be (brbid, sir ! so should I be a 
 great deal of his act. 
 
 1 Lord, Sir, his wife, .some two months since, 
 fled (rom his house ; her pretence is a pilgrimage to 
 Saint Jaqiies le grand ; which holy undertaking, with 
 most austere sanctimony, she accomplislied : and, 
 there residing, the tenderness of her nature became 
 as a prey to her grief; in line, made a groan of lier 
 last breath, and now she siu'^s in heaven. 
 
 2 Lord. How is this justified ? 
 
 1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own let- 
 ters ; which makes lier story true, cen to the point 
 of her death: her death itself, which could not be 
 her office to say, is come, was faithfully confirmed 
 by the rector ot the place. 
 
 2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ? 
 
 1 Lord, .^y, and the particular coiihrination.'*, point 
 from point, to the full arming of the verity. 
 
 2 Lord. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad ol 
 this, 
 
 1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make iis 
 comforts of our losses I 
 
 2 Lord. And how mightily, some other times, we 
 drown our gain in tears i 'i'he great dignity, that his 
 valour hath here acquired lor liiiii, shall at home be 
 encountered with a shame as ample. 
 
 1 Lord. Tiie web of our life is of a mingled yarn, 
 good anil ill together: our virtues would be proud, 
 if our faults whipped them not; and our rrimes 
 would despair, if they were not cherisli'd by our 
 virtues. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 How now? where's your master? 
 
 Serv. He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom 
 he hath taken a sniemn leave ; his lordship will 
 next morning for France. The duke hath offered 
 him letters of coinmondations to the king. 
 
 2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful ther«, 
 if they were more than they can commend. 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 1 Lord, They cannot be too sweet for the king's 
 tartness. Here's his lordship now. — How now, ray 
 lord, is't not after midnight? 
 
 Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen busi- 
 nesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of 
 success : I have conge'd with the dnke. done my 
 adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned fi)r 
 her; writ to my lady mother, I am returning; en- 
 terlaineil my convoy; and, between tiiese main par- 
 cels of despatch, effected many nicer needs; the last 
 was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 
 
 2 Lord. If tiie business be of any difficulty, and 
 till i morning your departure hence, it req lires haste 
 of your lorilshi|), 
 
 Ber. I mean the business is not "nded, as fearing 
 
202 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 to hear of it hereafter: but shall we have this dia- 
 logue between the Ibol and the soldier? Come, 
 
 bring- forth this counterfeit module ; he has deceived 
 Hie, like a double-meaning prophesier. 
 
 2 Lord. Bring him forth : [Exeunt Soldiers ] he 
 has sat in the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. 
 
 Jier. So matter; iiis heels ha\e deserved it, in 
 (isiirpins; his spurs so long. How does he carry 
 liimseU? 
 
 1 Lord. I have told your lordship already ; the 
 stocks carry him. But, to answer you-as you would 
 be understood; he weeps, like a wench that had 
 shed her milk: he hath confessfd himself to Mor- 
 gan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time 
 of his remembrance, to this very instant disaster of 
 his setting i'the stocks : and what think you he hath 
 confessed '! 
 
 Ber. Nothing of me, has he? 
 
 2 Lord. His confession is taken, and it shall be 
 read to his face : if your lordship be in't, as, I be- 
 lieve, you are, you must have tiie patience to hear it. 
 
 Re-enter Soldiers, with Pauolles. 
 
 Ber. A plague upon him ! mufllej I he can say 
 aotliing of me ; hush ! hu«!h ! 
 
 2 Lord. Hoodman comes! Porto tartarossa. 
 
 1 Sold. He calls for the tortures; VVIiat v\'ill you 
 say without 'em ? 
 
 Par. 1 will confess what I know, without con- 
 straitit; if ye |)inch me like a pasty, I can say no 
 
 1 Sold. Bosho chimiircho. [more. 
 
 tJ Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 
 
 1 Sold. You are a mercilul general: — Our gene- 
 ral bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a 
 note. 
 
 Par. kw\ truly, as I hope to live. 
 
 1 Sold. First demand of liim, how many horse 
 the duke is strowf. What say you to that .'' 
 
 Par. Fueor six thousand; but \ery weak and 
 unserviceable : the troops are all scattered, and the 
 commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation j 
 and cri-dit, and as I hope to li\e. \ 
 
 I Sold. Siiall 1 set down your answer so? i 
 
 Par. Do; I'll take the sacrament on't, liow and ; 
 svhich way you will. [is this! \ 
 
 Ber. .-Vli's one to him. What a i)ast-saving slave 
 
 1 Lord. V'ou are deceived, my loid; this is mon- 
 sieur I'arolles, the gallant militarist (that was his 
 own phrase), that had the whole theonc of war in 
 the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape 
 of his dag:;er. 
 
 2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keep- 
 ing his sword clean; nor believe he can have every 
 thmc' in hiru. bv wearing his apparel neatly. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set d.iwn. 
 
 Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — I will 
 sav true, — or thereabouts, set down, — for TiJ speak 
 truth. 
 
 1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. 
 
 Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature 
 he delivers it. 
 
 Par. Poor rogues. I pray you, say. 
 
 ] Sold. Well, that's set down. 
 
 Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, 
 the rogues are marvellous poor. 
 
 1 Sold. Demand of him. of what strength they 
 are afoot. What say you to that? 
 
 Par. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this pre- 
 sent hour, I will tell true. Let me see- Spurio a 
 hundred and filty, Sebastian so many, Corambus so 
 many. Jaques so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, 
 and CJratii two hundred and fifty each: mine own 
 company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred 
 and tilty each : so that the muster-file, rotten and 
 sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand 
 poll; half of which dare not shake tlie snow from 
 off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to 
 pieces. 
 
 Ber. WTjat shall be done to him ? 
 
 1 Lord Nothing, but let him have thanks. De- 
 
 mand of him my conditions, and what credit I hav e 
 with the duke. 
 
 1 Sold. Well, that's set down. You shall de- 
 7nand of him. tuhether one captain Dumnin be i 
 the cawp, a Frenchman: what his reputation is 
 tvith the duke, what his valour, honesty, and ex- 
 pertness in wars ; or ivhether he thinks it were 
 not possible, ivith well-tveighing sums of gold, to 
 corrupt him to a revolt. What say yon to tiiis ? 
 what do you know of it? 
 
 Par. I beseech yon, let me answer to the parti- 
 cular of the interrogatories : demand them singly. 
 J Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain ? 
 Par. I know him : he was a botcher's 'prentice in 
 Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the 
 sheriff's fool with child ; a dumb innocent, that could 
 not say him nay. 
 
 [Dumain lifts up his hand in anger. 
 Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ; though 
 I know, his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. 
 I Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Flo- 
 rence's camp? 
 
 Par. Upon my knowledge he is, and lousy. 
 I Lord. Nay, look Dot so upon me ; we shall hear 
 of your lordship anon. 
 
 1 Sold. What is iiis reputation with the duke? 
 Par. The duke knows him for no other but a poor 
 officer of mine; and writ to ine this other day, to 
 turn him out o'thy band : I think, 1 have his letter in 
 my pocket. 
 
 I Sold. Marry, we'll search. 
 Par. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is 
 there, or it is upon a file, with the duke's otiier let- 
 ters, in my tent. [to you? 
 1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I nrad H 
 Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no. 
 Ber. Our interpreter does it well. 
 1 Lord. Excellently. 
 
 1 Sold. Dian. The count's a fool, and full oj 
 gold. — 
 
 Par. That is not the duke's letter, .sir; that is an 
 advertisement to a prO|ier maid in Florence, one 
 Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one count 
 Rousillon. a foolish idle boy, but, for all th.it, very 
 ruttish : I |)ray you, sir, put it up again. 
 
 1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. 
 Par. My meaning in't, I protest, was very bo. 
 nest in the behalf of the maid : {ot I knew the yotnig 
 count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy: who 
 is a whale to virginity, and devours up all tlie fry 
 it finds. 
 Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue I 
 I Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him drop 
 
 gold, and take it ; 
 After he scores he never pays the score : 
 ILdfwon, is match well made ; match, and well 
 make it; 
 He ne'er pays after debts, tale it before ; 
 And say, a soldier. Dian, told thee this. 
 Men are to mell w'lth, boys are not to kiss : 
 For count qf this, the count's a fool. I hiowit, 
 fVho pays before, but not when he does owe it. 
 Thine, as he vow'd to thee in t-hine ear, 
 
 Parolle«-. 
 
 Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, witJi 
 this rhyme in his forehead. 
 
 2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, the mani- 
 fold linguist, and the armipotent soldier. 
 
 Ber. I could endure any thing before but a cat, 
 and now he's a cat to nie. 
 
 1 Sold. I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we 
 shall be fain to hang yoii. 
 
 Par. My life, sir, in any case : not that I am 
 afraid to die ; but that, my offences being many, 1 
 would repent out the remainder of nature : let me 
 live, sir, in a dungeon, i'the stocks, or any where, 
 so I may live. 
 
 1 Sold. We'll -see what may be done, so you con- 
 fess freely; therefore, once more to this capta>a 
 Dumain : You have answered to his reputation 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 ALL'S \YELh THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 203 
 
 with the duke, and to his valour: VVhat is his ho- 
 nesty ? 
 
 Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister j 
 for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He 
 professes not keeping of onths ; in breaking them, he 
 IS stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, witii 
 such volubility, that you would think triitii were a 
 fool : drunkenness is his best virtue ; for lie will be 
 swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, 
 save to his bed-clothes about nini ; but they know 
 his conditions, and lay liirn in straw. I have but 
 little more to say, sir, of his honesty : he has every 
 thing, that an honest man should not have ; what an 
 honest man should have, he has nothing. 
 
 1 Lord. I begin to love him ibr this. 
 
 Ber. For this description of thine honesty ? A pox 
 upon him for me, he is more and more a cat. 
 
 1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war? 
 
 Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum before tlie 
 English tragedians, — to belie him I will not, — and 
 more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that 
 country, he had the honour to be the officer at a 
 place called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling 
 of files : I would do the man what honour I can, but 
 of this I am not certain. 
 
 1 Lord. He hath out-villained villainy so far, that 
 the rarity redeems him. 
 
 Ber. A pox on him ! he's a cat still. 
 
 1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I 
 need not ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. 
 
 Par. Sir, lor a quart d ecu he will sell the fee- 
 simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and 
 cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual 
 succession for it perjietually. [Domain? 
 
 1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain 
 
 2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me ? 
 1 Sold. What's he ? 
 
 Par. E'en a crow of the same nest ; not altoge- 
 ther so great as the first in goodness, but greater a 
 great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a cow- 
 ard, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that 
 is : in a retreat, he out-runs any lackey ; marry, in 
 coming on he has the cramp. 
 
 1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake 
 to betray the Florentine ? 
 
 Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Rou- 
 sillon. [his pleasure. 
 
 1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know 
 
 Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of all 
 drums ! Only to seem to deserve well, and to be- 
 guile the supposition of that lascivious young boy, 
 the count, have I run into this danger : yet, who 
 would have suspected an ambush where I was 
 
 take 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die : 
 the general says, you, that have so traitorously dis- 
 covered the secrets of your army, and made such 
 pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can 
 serve the world for no honest use ; therefore you 
 must die. — Come , headsman, off with his head. 
 
 Par. O Lord, sir; let me live, or let me spe my 
 death ! 
 
 1 Sold. That you shall, and take your leave of all 
 your friends. [Xfnrmtffling him.) 
 So, look about you ; Know you any here '! 
 
 Ber. Good-morrow, nolile captain. 
 
 2 Lord. Go<J bless you, captain Parolles. 
 
 1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 
 
 2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my 
 lord Lafeu ? I am for Fiance. 
 
 1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy 
 of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the 
 count Rousillon V an I were not a very coward, I'd 
 compel it of you ; but fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Bertram, Lords, §Cc. 
 
 I Sold. You are undone, captain : all but your 
 scarf, that has a knot ou't yet. 
 
 Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot? 
 
 1 Sold. If y<iu could find out a countiy where 
 but women were that had received so much shame. 
 
 you might begin an impudent nation. Fare yon 
 well, sir; I am for France, too; we shall speak of 
 you there. [Exit. 
 
 Par. Yet am I thunkful : if my heart were great 
 'T would burst at this: Captain I'll be no more; 
 But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
 As captain shall : simply the thing I am fgarf 
 
 Suall make me live. Who knovvs himself a brag 
 Let him fear this; for it will come to pass, 
 That every braggart shiill be found an ass. 
 Rust, sword 1 cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live 
 Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! 
 There's place, and means, for every man alive. 
 Ill after them. [Exit 
 
 Scene IV. — Florence. A Room in the Jf'idoio's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Helena, fVidow, and Diana.. 
 
 Hel. That you may well perceive I have not 
 wrong'd you. 
 One of the giealest in the Christian world 
 Saall be my surety ; 'fore whose throne, 'tis needful. 
 Ere I can perlect mine intents, to kneel : 
 Time was, I did him a desired office. 
 Dear almost as his life ; which gratitude 
 Through llinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth. 
 And answer, thanks: 1 duly am inform'd, 
 His grace is at Marseilles ; to which place 
 We have convenient convoy. You must know, 
 I am supposed dead : the army breaking. 
 My husband hies him home ; where, heaven aiding, 
 And by the le^ive of my good lord the king. 
 We'll be, before our welcome. 
 
 Wid. Gentle madam, 
 You never had a servant, to whose trust 
 Your business was more welcome. 
 
 Hel. Nor you, mistress, 
 
 Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour 
 'J"o recompense your love ; doubt not, but heaven 
 Hath brought me up to be your daughters dower. 
 As it hath fated her to be my motive 
 And helper to a husband. But, O strange men ! 
 Tjiat can such sweet use make of what they hate. 
 When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts 
 Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth piay 
 With what it loaths. for that which is iiway : 
 
 But more of this hereafter: You, Diana, 
 
 Under my poor instructions yet must sutler 
 Something in my behalf. 
 
 Dia. Let death and honesty 
 
 Go with your impositions, I am yours 
 Upon your will to suli'er. 
 
 Hal. Yet. I pray you, 
 
 But with the word, the time will bring on summer. 
 When briars shall ha\e leases as well :.s thoius. 
 And be as sweet as sharp. We must away ; 
 Our waggon is prepard, and time revives us: 
 All's well lliat ends well: siill tlie fine's the crown; 
 VVhate'er the course, the end is the renown. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Countess, Lafeu, and Clown. 
 
 Laf. No, no, no, your sou was misled with a snipe- 
 tatfata fellow there ; whose villainous satfion would 
 have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a 
 nation in his colour: your daughterin-iaw iiad been 
 alive at this hour; and your son here at home, more 
 advanced by the king, than by that red-tailed liuiiible- 
 bee I speak of 
 
 Count. 1 would, I had not known him! it was 
 the death of the most virtuous gentlewomai', that 
 ever nature had praise for creating : if she had par- 
 taken of my fiesh, and cost me the dearest groans 
 of a mother, I could not have owed her a more 
 rooted love. 
 
 Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady : we 
 may pick a thousand salads, ere we light ou such 
 another herb. 
 
20-t 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, sfhe was the sweet marjoram ot 
 the s-.iiail, or, rather the herb of grace. 
 
 Laf, 'I'hey are not salud-herbs, you knave, they 
 are nose herbs. 
 
 Clo. I am no great Mebiichadnezzar, sir, I have 
 a~i nuK'h skill in grass. 
 
 Laf. VVlietlier dost thou profess thyself; a knave, 
 or a loo! ? 
 
 Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave 
 at a man's. 
 
 Laf. Y'onr distinction? [his service. 
 
 Clu. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do 
 
 Lnf. So yon were a knave at his service, indeed. 
 
 Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, 
 to do her service. [knave and fool. 
 
 hnf. I will subscribe for thee ; thou art both 
 
 Clo. At your service. 
 
 Lrrf. No, no, no. 
 
 Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve 
 as great a prince as you are. 
 
 Laf. Who's tliat? a Frenchman? 
 
 Clo. Faitli, sir, he has an English name ; but his 
 phisniimy is more hotter in France, than there. 
 
 Laf. What prince is that? 
 
 Clu. The black prince, sir, alias, the prince of 
 darkness- a/iV/s, the devil. 
 
 Laf. Hold tiiee, there's my purse : I give thee 
 not this to suggest thee from tiiy master thou talk'st 
 of; st-rve hi.n still. 
 
 Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that alway 
 loved a great fire ; and the master I speak of, ever 
 keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of 
 the world, let his nobility remain in his court. I 
 am for the house with the narrow gate, which 1 take 
 to be too little for pomp to enter: some, that humble 
 themselves, may ; but the many will be too chill and 
 tender; and they'll be fur tiie Howery way, that 
 leads to the broad gate, and the great tire. 
 
 Laf. Go thy ways, I begin tj be a-weary of thee ; 
 and 1 tell thee so before, because I would not fall 
 out w ith thee. Go thy ways ; let my horses be well 
 looked to, without any tricks. 
 
 Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall 
 he jades' tricks; which are tlieir own right by the 
 law of nature. [Exit. 
 
 Laf. A shrewd knave, and an un'iappy. 
 Count. Sit be is. JVIy lord, that's gone, made 
 himsell much sport out of him; by his authority 
 he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his 
 sasiciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs 
 where he will. 
 
 Lnf. I like him well; 'tis not amiss : and I was 
 about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's 
 death, and that my lord your son was upon his re- 
 turn home, I moved the king, my master, to speak 
 in the behalf of my diiughter ; which, in the mino- 
 rity of them both, his majesty, out of a self gracious 
 remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath 
 pronnsed me to do it; and, to stop up the displea- 
 sure he hith conceived against your son, there is no 
 fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? 
 
 Count. With very much content, my lord, and I 
 wish it happily effected. 
 
 Laf. His highness comes post from Marseilles, of 
 as able body as when he numbered thirty; he will 
 be here to-iiiorrow, or I am deceived by him that in 
 such intelligence hath seidom failed. 
 
 Count. It rejoices me, that I hope 1 shall see him 
 ere 1 die. I ha\e letters, that my son will be here 
 to-niglit: 1 shall beseech your lurdship, to remain 
 
 with me till they meet together. 
 
 Laf. M,id uu, I was thinking, with what manners 
 
 I might siil'ely he admitted. 
 
 Count. You need but plead your honourable 
 
 privilege. 
 Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; 
 
 liut, 1 thank my God, it liolds yet 
 
 Reenter Cloivn. 
 vVo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with 
 
 a patch of velvet on's face : whether there oe a scar 
 under it, or no, the velvet knows; I .it 'tis a goodly 
 patch of velvet : his left cheek is a cheek of two 
 pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. 
 
 Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good 
 livtry of honour; so, belike, is that. 
 
 Clo. But it is your carbonadoed face. 
 
 Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; I long 
 to talk with the young noble .soldier. 
 
 Clo. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate 
 fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow 
 the head, and nod at every man. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 -Marseilles. 
 
 A Street. 
 
 Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, v.ith two 
 Attendants, 
 
 Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and night. 
 Must wear your spirits low : we cannot help it ; 
 But, since vou have made the days and nights as 
 To wear your gentle limbs in my alfairs, [one. 
 Be bold, you do so grow in my requital. 
 As uotliing can unroot you. In happy time ; 
 
 Enter a yentle Astrinyer. 
 
 This man may help me to his majesty's ear. 
 
 If he would spend his power. — tiod save you. sir. 
 
 Gent. And you. 
 
 Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. 
 
 Gent. I have been sometimes there. 
 
 Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are ndt fallen 
 From the report that goes upon your goodness ; 
 And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions. 
 Which lay nice manners by, I put you to 
 The use of your own virtues, for the which 
 1 shall continue thankful. 
 
 Gent. What's your will? 
 
 Hel. That it will please you 
 To give this poor petition to the king; 
 And aid me with that store of power you have. 
 To come info his presence. 
 
 Gent. The king's not here. 
 
 Hel. Not here, sir? 
 
 Gent. Not, indeed : 
 
 fie hence remov'd last night, and with more haste 
 Than IS his use. 
 
 ff'id. Lord, how we lose our pains ! 
 
 Hel. All's tvell that ends well, yet ; 
 Though tijiie seem so adverse, and means unfit. — 
 I do beseech yQU, whither has he gone ? 
 
 Gent, Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon ; 
 Whither 1 am going. 
 
 Hel. I do beseech yon, sir. 
 
 Since you are like to see the king b2fore me. 
 Commend the paper to his gracious hand ; 
 Which, I presume, shall render you no blame. 
 But rather make you thank your pains for it: 
 I will come after you, witli what good speed 
 Our means will make us means. 
 
 Gent. This I'll do for you. 
 
 Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well 
 thank'd, 
 Whate'er falls more.— We must to horse again ; — 
 Go, go, provide. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene U.— Rousillon. The inner Court of the 
 Countess's Palace. 
 
 Enter Clown and Pakolles. 
 
 Par. Good monsieur Livalch, give my lord J.afeu 
 this letter: I haveeie now, sir. been bett-r known 
 to you, when I Irive neld familiarity with iVesbei 
 clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's 
 moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong 
 disi)leasure. 
 
 Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, 
 if it smell so strong as thou spealvest of : 1 will 
 henceforth eat no fish of fortunes buttering. Fr'jthee, 
 allow the wind. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 20a 
 
 Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir; I 
 gpake but by a metaplior. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will 
 stop my nose ; or Ri^ainst any man's metaphor. 
 Pr'ythee, get thee lurtlier. 
 
 Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. 
 
 do. Foil, pr'ythee, stand av/ay : A paper from 
 fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, 
 liere he comes himself. — 
 
 'Enter Lafeu. 
 Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, 
 (but not a musk-cat,) that has (alien into tiie unclean 
 fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is 
 muddit^d withal : Pray you, sir, use the carp as you 
 may; for he loi)ks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, 
 foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in 
 my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lord- 
 ship. \Exit Clown. 
 
 Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath 
 cruelly scratched. 
 
 Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis 
 too late to pare her nails now. W herein have you 
 played the knave with fortune, that she should 
 scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and 
 would not have knaves thrive lou^ under her ? 
 Tliere's a quart clecu for you : Let the justices 
 make you and fortune friends ; I am for other bu- 
 siness, [single word. 
 
 Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one 
 
 Laf. You beg a single penny more : come, you 
 shall lia't; save your word. 
 
 Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. 
 
 Laf. You beg more than one word then. — Cox' 
 my passion ! Give me your hand ; *iow does your 
 drum ? [found me. 
 
 Par. O my good lord, you were the first that 
 
 Laf. Was I, in sooth '! and I was the first that 
 lost ttiee. 
 
 Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some 
 grace, for you did bring me out. 
 
 Laf. Out upon thee, knave ! dost thou put upon 
 me at once both the office of God and the deul ? 
 one briiijjjs thee in grace, and the other brings thee 
 out. {Trumpets sound.) The kings coming, 1 know 
 by Ins tnunpets. — Sjrrah, inquire further after me ; 
 I had talk of you last night: though you are a i'ooi 
 and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. 
 
 Par. I praise God for you. [Exeu7)t. 
 
 ScKNE III. — The same. A Room in the Countess's 
 Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Lords, 
 Gentlemen, Guards, §fc. 
 
 King. We lost a jevvel of her; and our esteem 
 Was made much poorer by it : but your son. 
 As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know 
 Her estimation home. 
 
 Count. 'Tis past, my liege : 
 
 And 1 beseech your majesty to make it 
 Natural rebellion, done i'the blaze of youth ; 
 When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, 
 0'erbears,it, and burns on. 
 
 King. My honour'd lady, 
 
 r ha\e forgiven and forgotten all; 
 Though my revenges were high bent upon him. 
 And watch'd the time to shoot. 
 
 Laf. This I must say, 
 
 But tirst I beg my pardon, — Tiie young lord 
 Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, 
 Ort'ence of mighty note ; but to himself 
 The greatest wrr)ng ef all : he lost a wife. 
 Whose beauty did astonisli tiie survey 
 or richest eyes ; whose words all ears took captive ; 
 Whose dear ()erfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve. 
 Humbly call'd mistress. 
 
 King. Praising what is lost. 
 
 Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him 
 
 hither; 
 
 We are recuncii'd, and the first view shall kill 
 
 All repetition : — Let him not ask our pardon *, 
 Tlie nature of his great ollence is dead. 
 And deeper than oblivion do we bury 
 Tlie incensing relics of it: let him approach, 
 A stranger, no offender ; and inform him. 
 So 'tis our will he should. 
 
 Gent. I shall, my liege. 
 
 [Exit Gentleman. 
 
 King. What says he to your daughter? have you 
 spoke ? 
 
 Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness. 
 
 King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters 
 That set him high in fame. [sent me, 
 
 Enter Bertram. 
 
 Laf. He looks well on'L 
 
 King. I am not a day of season, 
 For thuu may'st see a sun-shine and a hail 
 In me at once : But to the brightest beams 
 Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth. 
 The time is fair again. 
 
 Ber. My high-repented blames. 
 
 Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 
 
 King. All is whole ; 
 
 Not one word more of the consumed time. 
 Let's take the instant by tlie forward top ; 
 For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
 The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
 Steals, ere we can effect thein ; You remember 
 The daughter of this lord ? 
 
 Ber. Admiringly, my liege : at first 
 I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
 Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue. 
 Where the impression of mine eye infixing. 
 Contempt his scornful perspective did lend roe. 
 Which warp'd the line of every other favour; 
 Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n; 
 Extended or contracted all proportions. 
 To a most hideous object: Thence it came, 
 That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself. 
 Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
 The dust that did offend it. 
 
 King. Well excus'd : 
 
 That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away 
 From the great compt : But love, that comes too late. 
 Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried. 
 To the great sender turns a sour offence, 
 Crying, That's good, that's gone : our rash faults 
 Make trivial price of serious things we have, 
 Not knowing them, until we know their grave : 
 Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, 
 Destroy our friends, and after weep tiieir dust : 
 Our own love waking cries to see what's done. 
 While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. 
 Be this sweet Helens knell, and now tbrget her. 
 Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin : 
 'J'he main consents are had ; and here we'll stay 
 To see our widower's second marriage-day. 
 
 Count. Wliich better than the first, O dear hea- 
 ven, bless! 
 Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease ! 
 
 Laf Come on, my son, in whom my house's 
 name 
 Must be digested, give a favour from you. 
 To sparkle -n the spirits of my daughter, 
 That she may quickly come. — By my old beard, 
 Aiid eveiy i>air that's on t, Helen, that's dead. 
 Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this. 
 The last that e'er 1 took her leave at court, 
 I saw upon her finger. 
 
 Ber, Hers it was not 
 
 King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, 
 While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. — 
 This ring was mine; and, when 1 gave it Helen, 
 i bade her, if her fortunes ever stood 
 Necessitied to help, tint by this token 
 I would relieve her Had you that craft, to reave her 
 Of what slio.dd stead her most? 
 
 Ber. My gracious sovfteigo 
 
 Howe'er it plea.ses you to take it so. 
 
206 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS AVELL. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 The rinp was never hers. 
 
 Count. Sun, on my life, 
 
 I have seen her wear it; and slie reckon'd it 
 At her life's rate. 
 
 Lrtf, I am sure, I saw her wear it. 
 
 Bcr. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it: 
 In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 
 VVrapp'd in a paper, which coiitain'd tlie name 
 Of her that threw il : noble she was, and thought 
 I stood engag'd : but when I had stibscrib d 
 To mine own fortune, and inform'd her lidly, 
 I could not answer in that course of honour, 
 As she had made the overture, she ceas'd. 
 In heavy satisfaction, and would never 
 Receive the ring again. 
 
 King, Plutus himself, 
 
 That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, 
 Hath not in nature's mystery more science. 
 Than I have in this ring : 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, 
 Whoever gave it you : 'I'hen, if you know. 
 That you are well acquainted with yourself, 
 Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement 
 Vou got it from her : she call'd the saints to surety. 
 That she would never put it from her finger. 
 Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, 
 
 I Where you have never come,) or sent it us 
 Jpon her great disaster. 
 Ber, She never saw it. 
 
 King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I lo»e mine 
 honour ; 
 And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me. 
 Which I would fain shut out : If it should prove 
 Tliat tliou art so inhuman, — 'twill not prove so; — 
 And yet I know not : — thou didst hate her deadly. 
 And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close 
 Her eyes myself, could win me to believe. 
 More tliau to see this ring. — Take him away. — 
 
 {Guards seize Bertram.) 
 My fnre-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall. 
 Snail tax my fears of little vanity. 
 Having vainly feard too little. — Away with him ; — 
 We'll .sift this matter further. 
 
 Ber. If you shall prove 
 
 This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy 
 Prove, that I husbanded her bed in Florence, 
 Where yet she never was. [Exit Bertram ijuarded. 
 
 Enter a Gentletnan. 
 
 King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. 
 
 Gent. Gracious sovereign. 
 
 Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not; 
 Here's a petition from a Florentine, 
 Who hath, for four or five removes, come short 
 To tender it herself. 1 undertook it, 
 Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech 
 Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know. 
 Is here attendmg : her business looks in her 
 With an importing visage ; and she told me. 
 In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern 
 Your highness with herself. 
 
 King. (Reads.) Upon his many protestations to 
 marry me, when his wife tons dead, I blush to 
 iay it, he tvon me. Noiv is the count Rousillon a 
 widoiver; his vows are forfeited to me, and my 
 honours paid to him. He stole from Florence, 
 takivg no leave, and I follow him to his country 
 for justice : Grant it me, King ; in you it best 
 lies ; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor 
 maid is undone. 
 
 DiAN.\ Capui^et. 
 
 Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll 
 him : for this, I'll none of him. (Lafeu, 
 
 King. The heavens have thought well on thee. 
 To bring forth this discovery. — Seek these suitors : — 
 Go speedily, and brins again the count. 
 
 [Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants. 
 I am aleard, the life of Helen, lady, 
 Was foully snatch'd. 
 
 Count. Now, justice on tlie doers ! 
 
 Enter Bertram, guarded. 
 
 King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters 
 to you, 
 And that you fly them as you swear them lordship. 
 Yet you desire to marry. — What woman's that? 
 
 Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and Diana. 
 
 Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, 
 Derived from the ancient Cajjulet; 
 My suit, as I do understand, you know, 
 And therefore know how far I may be pitied. 
 
 f^ id. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour 
 Both sutler under this complaint we bring. 
 And both ."hall cease, without votir remedy. 
 
 King. Come hither, count; Do you know these 
 women ? 
 
 Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny 
 But that I know them : do they charge me turther . 
 
 Dia. VVhy do you look so strange upon your wife ? 
 
 Ber. She's none of mine, my lord. 
 
 Dia. If you shall marry. 
 
 You give away this hand, and that is mine ; 
 You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine ; 
 \ou give away myself, which is known mine; 
 For I by vow am so embodied yours, 
 That she, which marries you, must marry me, 
 Eitlier both, or none. 
 
 Laf. Your reputation (to Bertram) comes too 
 short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. 
 
 Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate crea- 
 ture, [ness 
 Who sometime I have langh'd with : let your high- 
 Lt^y a more noble thought upon mine honour. 
 Than for to think that I would sink it here. 
 
 King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to 
 friend, (nour. 
 
 Till your deeds gain them : Fairer prove your ho- 
 Than in my thought it lies ! 
 
 Dia. Good my lord. 
 
 Ask him upon his oath, if he does think 
 He had not my virginity. 
 
 King. What say'st thou to hi'r ? 
 
 Ber. She's impudent, my lord; 
 
 And was a common gamester to the can) p. 
 
 Dia. He does me wrong, my lord ; if 1 were so. 
 He might have bought me at a common price : 
 Do not believe him : O, behold this ring. 
 Whose high respect, and rich validity. 
 Did lack a parallel; yet, for all tiiat. 
 He gave it to a commoner o'the camp, 
 If I be one. 
 
 Count. He blushes, and 'tis it :. 
 
 Of six preceding ancestors, that gem 
 Conferred by testament to the sequent issue. 
 Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife ; 
 That ring's a thousand proofs. 
 
 King. Methought, you said, 
 
 You saw one here in court could witness it. 
 
 Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce 
 So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles. 
 
 Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. 
 
 King. Find him, and bring him hither. 
 
 Ber. What of him? 
 
 He's quoted for a most perfidious slave. 
 With all the spots o'the world tas'd and debosh'd ; 
 Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth : 
 Am 1 or that, or this, for what he'll utter. 
 That will speak any thing ? 
 
 King. She hath that ring of yours. 
 
 Ber. I think, she has : certain it is, I likd her. 
 And boarded her i'the wanton way of youth : 
 She knew her distance, and did angle for me. 
 Madding my eagerness with her restraint. 
 As all impediments in fancy's coarse 
 Are motives of more fancy ; and in fine. 
 Her insuit coming with her modern grace. 
 Subdued me to her rate : she got the ring; 
 And I had that which any inferior might • 
 
 At market price have bought. 
 
 Dia. I mu.st be patient; 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 207 
 
 Voii that tiirn'd off' a first so noble wife, 
 iMay justly diet me. I pray yon yet, 
 iSmce you hck virtue, I will lose a husband, ) 
 .Send for yo.ir rin;;, 1 will return it home, 
 And give me mine again. 
 
 J3er. I ha^e it not. 
 
 King. What ring was youis, I pray you? 
 
 Dia. Sir, much like 
 
 The same upon your finger. 
 
 King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of 
 late. 
 
 Dia. And this was it I gave him, being abed. 
 
 ki7ig. The story then goes false, you tlirew it him 
 Out of a casement. 
 
 Dia. I have spoke the truth. 
 
 Enter Parolles. 
 
 Her. JMy lord, I do confess the ring was hers. 
 
 tiding. Yon boggle shrewdly, every feather starts 
 you. — 
 Is this the man you speak of? 
 
 Dill. Ay, my lord. 
 
 King. Tell me, sirrah, but, tell me true, I charge 
 you, 
 Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 
 (Wliicli, on your just proceeding, I'll keep o(F,) 
 tiy him, and by this woman here, what know you ? 
 
 Par. So please your majesty, my master hath 
 been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had 
 in him, which gentlemen have. 
 
 King. Come, come, to the purpose : did he love 
 this woman ? 
 
 Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her : but how ? 
 
 King. How, I pray you ? 
 
 Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves 
 a woman. 
 
 King. How is that ? 
 
 Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. 
 
 King. As thou art a knave and no knave : — 
 VV hat an equivocal coini)anion is this? 
 
 Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's 
 command. [orator. 
 
 .Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty 
 
 Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage '! 
 
 Par. 'Faith, 1 know more than I'll speak. 
 
 King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st ? 
 
 Par. Yes, so please your majesty ; I did go be- 
 tween them, as I said ; but more than that, he 
 loved her, — for, indeed, he was mad for her, and 
 talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I 
 know not what : yet I was in that credit with them 
 at that time, that I knew of their going to bed ; and 
 of other motions, as promising her marriage, and 
 things that would derive me ill-will to speak of, 
 therefore I will not speak what I know. 
 
 King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou 
 canst say they are married : but thou art too tine in 
 thy evidence ; therefore stand aside. — 
 This ring, you say, was yours? 
 
 Via. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? 
 
 Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. 
 
 King. Who lent it you ? 
 
 JJia, It was not lent me neither. 
 
 King. Where did you find it then ? 
 
 Dia. I found it not. 
 
 King. If it were yours by none of all these ways. 
 How could you give it him ? 
 
 Dia. I never gave it him. 
 
 iJaf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord ; she 
 goes off* and on at pleasure. 
 
 K.ing. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. 
 
 Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I 
 know. 
 
 King. Take her away. I do not like her now » 
 
 To prison with her: and away with him. — 
 Unless thou (ell'st me where thou hadst this ring. 
 Thou diest witiiin this hour. 
 
 Dia. I'll never tell you. 
 
 King. Take lier away. 
 
 Dia. I'll put in bail, my liege. 
 
 King. I think thee now some common customer. 
 
 Dia. By Jo\e, if ever I knew man, 'twas yon. 
 
 King. Wherefore hast tliou accus'd him all Ihii 
 while ? 
 
 Dia. Because, he's guilty, and he is not guilty; 
 He knows, I am no maid, and he'll swear to't : 
 I'll swear, I am a maid, and he knows not. 
 Great king, I am no strumpet, by my liie ; 
 1 am either maid, or else this old iimn's wife. 
 
 {Pointing to Lafeu.) 
 
 King. She does abuse otirears ; to prison witli her. 
 
 Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.— Stay, royal 
 sir; [Exit Widow. 
 
 The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for 
 Am\ he shall surety me. But for tliis lord, 
 Who hath abus'd ine, as he knows himself. 
 Thoiigli yet he never harm'd me, here 1 quit liim: 
 He knows himself, my bed he hath defil'd ; 
 And at that time he got his wife with child : 
 Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick; 
 So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick : 
 And now behold the meaning. 
 
 He-enter Widow with Helena. 
 
 King. Is there no esorcist 
 
 Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? 
 Is't real, that I see ? 
 
 Hel. No, my good lord ; 
 
 'Tis but the sliadow of a wife you see. 
 The name, and not the thing. 
 
 Ber. Both, both; O, pardon! 
 
 Hsl. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, 
 I found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring, 
 And, look you, here's your letter: this it says. 
 When from my finger you can get this ring. 
 And are by tne with child, etc. — This is done : 
 Will you be mine, now you are doubly won ? 
 
 Ber. Jf she, my liege, can make me know this 
 I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. [clearly, 
 
 Hel If it appear not plain, and pro\e untrue. 
 Deadly divorce step between me and you ! — 
 O, my dear mother, do I see you living ? 
 
 Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon : — 
 Good Tom Drum, {to Parolles) lend me a hand- 
 kerchief: so, I thank thee; wait on me home, 111 
 make sport with thee : let thy courtesies alone, they 
 are scurvy ones. 
 
 King. Let us from point to point this story know. 
 To make the even truth in pleasure flow :— 
 If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, 
 
 {To Diana.) 
 
 Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; 
 For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid, 
 'J'hou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.— 
 Of that, and all the progress, more and less, 
 Resolvedly more leisure shall express: 
 All yet seems well ; and if it end so meet. 
 The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet 
 
 ( Flourish.) 
 
 (Advancing.) 
 
 The ting's a beggar, now the play is done : 
 All is well ended, if t/m suit be won. 
 Thai you express content : which we will pay. 
 With strife to please you, day exceeding clay ; 
 Ours be your patience then, and yours our juris ; 
 Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 

 Of tin's play the two plots pre so well united, that thev can hardly be called two, without injury to the art with 
 which they iire interwoven The attentiou is entertained with all the variety of a double plot, yet is not distracted 
 by uncoiinect d incidents. 
 
 The put between Katharine and Petruchio is eminently sprightly and diverting. At the marriage of Bi.inca, the 
 arrival of the real father, perhaps, produces more perplexity tliau pleasure. TUe whole play is very pi polar and 
 diverting. JohnsoH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 inken Tinker, i 
 'iiitsmeti, and i 
 on the Lord, > 
 
 Persons in 
 the Induction. 
 
 A Lord. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER SLY, «rfn/n*^« 
 
 HuxtHss, Par/e, Players, Hui 
 
 other Sfrvants, attending on 
 BAI'TISTA, a rich Gfntleman of Padua. 
 VlNCiNTlO, an aid Gentleman of Pisa. 
 L'jCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, iti love with Bimica. 
 I'ETRCCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to 
 Kalharina. 
 
 GREMIO —HORTENSIO,— 5!/!7oi-i to Biaiica. 
 
 TR\NlO.—iitOyintihhO,—Servaiit.i to Liwentio. 
 
 GRUMIO,— CUKTIS,— 5«rrrtH<.v tu Petruchio. 
 
 Pedant, an old Frl/nw, set up to personate Vincentio 
 
 KATH.\RINA, the Shrew, \ 7),,„„/,/*rs to Bavlista. 
 BIANCA, her Sister, j UauglUers to aapiiiia. 
 
 Widow. 
 Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants, attendiii'j on 
 Biipiista and Petruchio. 
 
 Scene, — Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country. 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 Scene I. — Before an Ale-house on a Heath. 
 Enter Hostess and Sly. 
 
 Sly. I'll plieese you, in faith. 
 
 Host. .\ pair of stocks, yon rogue ! 
 
 Sly. Y'are a bagijage ; the Slies are no rogues : 
 Look in the chronicles, we came in witli Richard 
 Conqueror. Therei'ore, paucas pa llabr is; let the 
 world slide : Sessa ! [burst ? 
 
 Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have 
 
 Sly. No, not a denier: go by, says Jeroniniy ; 
 Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 
 
 Host. I know my remedy, 1 must go fetch the 
 thirdborough. [Exit. 
 
 Sly. Third, or fonrtli.or fifth borougii, I'll answer 
 him by law : I'll ni-.t budi;e an inch, boy ; let him 
 come, ;ind kindly. 
 
 {Lies duivfi on the yround, and falls asleep.) 
 
 Wind horns. Enter a Lord from huntiny, tvith 
 Himtsmen and Servants. 
 
 Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my 
 hounds : 
 Brach Merriman, — the poor cur is emboss"d. 
 And couple Clowder with the deeprnonth'rl brach. 
 Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good 
 At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault ? 
 I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 
 
 1 Hun. Why, Betman is as good as he, my lord ; 
 He cried upon it at the merest loss. 
 And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest sceut: 
 Trust me, I take him for the better dog. 
 
 Lord. Thou art a fool ; if Kcho were as fleet, 
 1 would esteem him worth a dozen such. 
 But sup them well, and look unto thetu all ; 
 I'o-morrow I intend to hunt again. 
 
 1 Hun. I will, my lord. 
 
 Lord. What's here ; one dead, or drunk ? See, 
 doth he breathe ? 
 
 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord : Were he not 
 
 warm'd with ale, 
 This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. 
 Lord. O monstrous beast I how like a swine he 
 
 lies ! [image ! — 
 
 Grim death ! how foul and loathsome is thine 
 Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. 
 What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, 
 Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his lingers, 
 A most delicious banquet by his bed. 
 And brave attendants near him when he wakes. 
 Would not the beggar then forget himself'? 
 
 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 
 
 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he 
 
 wak'd. [fancy. 
 
 Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless 
 Then take him up, and manage well the jest :— 
 
 Carry him gently to my fairest chamber. 
 
 And hang it round with ail my wanton pictures: 
 
 Balm his foul head with waren distilled waters. 
 
 And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet* 
 
 Procure me music ready when he wakes. 
 
 To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound ; 
 
 And if he chance to speak, be ready straight. 
 
 And, with a low submissise reverence. 
 
 Say, — What is it your honour will command'? 
 
 Let one attend him with a silver bason, 
 
 Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers ; 
 
 Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper. 
 
 And say, — Wilt please your lordship cool yoiir 
 
 hands '? 
 Some one be ready with a costly suit, 
 And ask him what apparel he will wear; 
 Another tell him of his hounds and horse. 
 And that his lady mourns at his disease : 
 Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic; 
 And, when he says he is — , say, tiiat he dreaois. 
 For he is nothing but a mighty lord. 
 'I'liis do, and do it kindly, geritle sirs; 
 It wilt be |;astinie passing excellent. 
 If it be husbanded with modesty. [part, 
 
 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our 
 As he shall think, by our true diligence, 
 He is no less than what we say he is. 
 
 Lord. Take hiin up gently, and to bed with him , 
 And each one to his office, when he wakes. — 
 
 {Some beai out Sly. A trumpet sounds.) 
 Sirrah, go see what truulpet 'tis that sound-; : 
 
 [E.vit Servant. 
 Belike .some noble gentleman; that means. 
 Travelling some journey, to repose him here. — 
 
 Re-enter a Servant. 
 
 How now ? who is it ? 
 
 Serv. An it please your honoar, 
 
 Players, that offer service to your lordship. 
 
 Lord. Bid them come near : 
 
 Enter Players. 
 Now, fellows, you are welcome 
 
 1 Play. We thank your honour. 
 
 Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 
 
 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duly. 
 Lord. With all my heart.— This fellow I ic- 
 
 member, 
 Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ; — 
 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well : 
 I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part 
 Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd. [means. 
 1 P/ay. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour 
 Lord, 'lis very true; — thou didst it excellent.— 
 Well, you are come to me iti hajipy time ; 
 The i-itiier for I have some sj>oit in hand, 
 Wherein your cunning can assist me uir.c tu 
 

 ■y. 
 
Indcctfon. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 20f> 
 
 There is a lord will hear yon play tonight : 
 
 But 1 Hill iliiubtful of your iiioaesfies ; 
 
 Lest, over-eyiiij; of his odd behaviour, 
 
 'For yet liis lioiioiir never heard a play,) 
 
 You break into some merry passion, 
 
 And so olfeiid iiiiii ; for 1 tell you, sirs. 
 
 If you should smile, he jjrows impatient. [selves, 
 
 i Play. Fear not, my hird ; we can contain our- 
 Were lie the veriest antic in the world. 
 
 Lord. Go, siirali, take them to the buttery. 
 And give tiieui friendly welcome every one: 
 Let tiiera want nothins;. that my house alfoids. — 
 
 [Exeunt servant and Players. 
 Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, 
 
 ( To a Servant.) 
 And see him dress"d in all suits like a lady : 
 'i'hat done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, 
 And call liim — madam; do him obeisance. 
 Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,) 
 He bear himself with honourable action. 
 Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies 
 Unto their lords, by them accomplished : 
 Such duty to the drunkard let him do. 
 With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ; 
 And say. — What is"t your honour will command. 
 Wherein your lady, and yonr humble wife, 
 May show her duty, and make known her love? 
 And then — with kind embraceraents, tempting 
 
 kisses, 
 And with declining head into his bosom, — 
 Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy 'd 
 To see her noble lord restor'd to health. 
 Who, for twice seven years, lialh esteemed him 
 No better th;in a poor and loatiisome beggar: 
 And if the boy have not a woman's gilt. 
 To rain a shower of ccmnanded tears. 
 An onion will do well tor such a shift; 
 Which in a nijipkin being close ci.nvey'd, 
 Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. 
 See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst; 
 Anon ril give thee more instructions. — 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 I know, the boy will well nsurp the grace, 
 Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman ; 
 I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband ; 
 And how my men will stay themselves from laughter. 
 When they do homage to this simple peasant. 
 I'll in to counsel them : haply, my presence 
 May well abate the over-merry spleen. 
 Which otherwise would grow into extremes. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. 
 
 Sly is discovered in a rich night-gown, with 
 
 Attendants; some tcith apparel, others with 
 
 bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter 
 
 Lord, dressed like a servant. 
 
 Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. [sack ? 
 
 1 Serv. VVill't please your lordship drink a cup of 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these 
 
 conserves ? day ? 
 
 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to- 
 Sly. I am Cliristophero Sly ; call not me— honour, 
 
 nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and if 
 ou give me any conserves, give me conserves of 
 eef : Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I 
 have no more doublets than backs, no more stock- 
 ings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet ; nay, 
 sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as 
 my toes look through the overleather. [honour! 
 
 Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your 
 O. that a mii;hty man, of such descent. 
 Of such possessions, and so high esteem, 
 Should he infused with so foul a spirit ! 
 
 Sly. What, would you make me mad ? Am not 
 I Christopher Siy, old Sly's son o( Burton-heath ; 
 by birtli a [ledlar, by education a card-n.aker, by 
 transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present pro- 
 fession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale- 
 wife of \V lucot, if she know me not; >f she say I 
 
 I 
 
 am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer Ale. 
 score Mie ujj for tlie lyiiigest knave in Christenioni! 
 What, I am not bestraiijrht : Here's 
 
 1 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your lady mouin. 
 
 2 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your ser\ antK 
 
 flroop. lyour iioiise. 
 
 Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shup 
 As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. 
 O, noble lord, betliink thee of thy birth; 
 Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment. 
 And banish hence these abject lowly dreams: 
 Look how thy servants do attend on thee. 
 Each in his office ready at thy beck. 
 Wilt thou have music/ hark! Apollo plays, 
 
 {Musie .) 
 And twenty caged nightingales do sing: 
 Or wilt thou sleep' we'll have thee to a couch. 
 Softer and sweeter than the lustliil bed 
 On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 
 Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground' 
 Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, 
 Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. 
 Dost thou love hawking ? thou hast hawks will soar 
 Above the morning lark : Or wilt thou hunt ? 
 Thy hounds shall make the ^^elkin answer them, 
 And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 
 
 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are 
 
 as swift 
 As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe, 
 
 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures '? we will fetch 
 
 thee straight 
 Adonis, painted by a running brook : 
 And Cytherca all in sedges hid ; 
 Which seem to move and wanton with her breath. 
 Even as the waving sedges play witii wind. 
 
 Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid ; 
 And how, she was beguiled and surpris'd, 
 As lively painted as the deed was done. 
 
 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny 
 
 wood ; 
 Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleed <; 
 And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, 
 So worknianly the blood and tears are drawn. 
 
 Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord : 
 Tlioii hast a lady far more beautil'ul 
 Than any woman in this waning age. [thee, 
 
 1 Serv. And, till the tears, that she hath shed for 
 Like envious fiuods, o'er ran her lovely lace. 
 
 She was the fairest creature in the world ; 
 And yet she is inferior to none. 
 
 Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ? 
 Or do I dream ? or have I dieam'd till now ? 
 I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak; 
 I smell sweet savours, and I leel scft things : — 
 Upon my life. I am a lord, indeed ; 
 And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. — 
 Well, bring our lady hither to our sigit : 
 And, once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. 
 
 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash 
 
 your hands ? 
 
 {Servants present an eiver, bason, and napkin.^ 
 O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd I 
 O, that once more you knew but what you are ! 
 These filteen years you have been in a dream; 
 Or, when you wak'd, so wakd as if you slept. 
 
 Sly. These hfteen years ! by my fay, a goodly nap. 
 But did I never speak of all that lime ? 
 
 I Serv. O, yes, my lord ; but very idle woi'ds;— 
 For thougli you lay lierc ir. this goodly chainber. 
 Yet would you say, ye were beaten out ol door; 
 And rail upon the hostess of the house ; 
 And say, you would present her at the leet. 
 Because she bnuight stone jugs and no seai'd quar.^ . 
 Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. 
 
 Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 
 
 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no >{.\'.h 
 maid ; 
 Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd np,— 
 As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greec^ 
 And Peter Turf, and Heurv Pimpernell ; 
 
210 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 And twnily more siirli nniiips niiil men as these, 
 Wliirli never were, tior im ni;iii e\er .s;i\v. 
 
 A'l y. Now, Lord be tliiinkeil fur my i;o(id amends I 
 
 A,/. A mill. 
 
 S/i/. I Uuiiik thee ; thoii shall not hise liy it. 
 
 Kli/rr t/ie I'd'jP, (isn lady. Willi Attendants. 
 
 l'(((lf. How lilies my iiolile lord .■* 
 
 .SVy. Miiriy, I laie well ; lor here is cheer enoM>;h. 
 W hire is mv wile ? 
 
 I'd'ji'. Ile're, noltle lord; What is thy will with 
 !„M? [hiishaiid ? 
 
 .V///. .\re yon my wife, and will not call me — 
 .My men shoiihl call me — lord ; I am your tjoodinan. 
 
 I'aijf. My hiishaiid and my lord, uiy lord and 
 Imsliaiid : 
 1 am voiir wile in all oiiedieiice. 
 
 Sh'i. i know it well -.—What must I call her? 
 
 Ijord. Madam. 
 
 Sly. Alice midam, or Joan madam? 
 
 Ijitril. M.idam. and nolhinj,' else; so lords call 
 ladies. [and slept 
 
 Shj. Aladiim wife, they say tiiat 1 have dreauid, 
 Abo\e some lifleen year and more. 
 
 I'li'je .\y, and the time seems thirty unto me, 
 lieiii- all this lime.-ihandoii'd from your bed. 
 
 .V/y. ■ Tis much ; .Servants, leave me and iier 
 
 alone. 
 
 .Madam, iindiess yon, and come now to bed. 
 
 I'tr/f. 'I'hrice noble lord, let me entreat of yon, 
 To |iaidoii me yet for a ni;;ht or two; 
 Or, if not so, until the sun be set: 
 I'or your physicians ha^e expressly charg'd. 
 In peril to incur your former malady. 
 That I should yet absent me from your bed : 
 I hope, this reason stands for my excuse. 
 
 .S/i/. .^v, it stands so, that 1 n)riy hardly tarry so 
 loiij;-. IJu't I would be loath to fall into my dreams 
 a^iiin : I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh 
 aiul the blood. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amend- 
 ment, 
 .■\re coaie to play a pleasant comedy. 
 For so your doctors hold it very meet; 
 Seeiim too mucii sadness hath concjeal'd your liiood, 
 And melancholy is tlie nurse of frenzy, 
 'riierel'ore, they thought it good yon hear a play, 
 And frame your mind to mirth and merriment. 
 Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life. 
 
 Sly. Many, I will ; let them play it : Is not a 
 comniontv a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick .^ 
 
 Paye. ^o, my good lord ; it is more pleasing stuli". 
 
 Sly. What, household stuft'? 
 
 Pnye. It is a kind of history. 
 
 Sly. Well, we'll see't : Come, madam wife, sit 
 by my side, and let the world slip ; we shall ne'er 
 be younger. \_They sit doivn. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 « Scene I. — Padua. A public Place. 
 
 Enter Lucentio and Tranio. 
 Luc. Tranio. since — for the great desire I had 
 To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, — 
 I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, 
 3'hp pleasant garden of great Italy ; 
 And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd 
 With his good will, and thy good company, 
 Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all ; 
 Here let us breathe, and happily institute 
 A course of learning, and ingenious studies. 
 Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, 
 Gave me my being, and my father first, 
 A merchant of great traffic through the world, 
 •ViDcentio, come of the Bentivolii. 
 Vinceatio his son, brought up in Florence, 
 It sJiall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd. 
 To deck his fortune with !iis virtuous deeds: 
 And ll»«refore, '1 ranio, fe<- the time I study, 
 
 Virtue, and that part ofphilosophy 
 Will I a[>ply. that Irpiits ol happiness, 
 liy virtue 'speciislly to he achieve<l. 
 Tell me thy aiiiiil : for I lia\e l*isn left, 
 And ail! to Fadii.i come ; as he that leaver 
 A shallow plash, to plunge him in tlye deep, 
 .And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. 
 
 Trn. Mi jierdunnte, gentle master mine, 
 I am in all allected as yoiirseU ; 
 (ilad that you thus continue your resolve. 
 To suck the sweets ol sweet philosophy. 
 Only, good master, while we do admire 
 This virtue, ami this moral rliscipline. 
 Lets be no stoicks, nor no stocks, i iuay ; 
 Or SI) devote to Aristnth's chicks. 
 As Ovid be an outcast (|uile abjur'd : 
 Talk Iu;mc with aci|uaintance that you Iiave, 
 And practise rhetoric in your coiumon talk; 
 IMiisic and poesy use to quicken you ; 
 The mat hematics, and the metaphysics, 
 Fall to them, as you tind your stomach serves yv»u : 
 No ■•rofit grows, where is no phasiiri' ta'en ;— 
 In brief, sir, study what you most all'ect 
 
 Lite. Giamercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise< 
 If. Biondello, thou wert come ashore, 
 We could at once pat us in readiness ; 
 And take a lodging, tit to entertain 
 Such friends as time in Padua shall beget, 
 lint stay awhile : What company is this ? 
 
 Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. 
 
 Enter Baptista, K-ATHARtNA, Bianca, Gremio, 
 and HoRTENSio. Lucentio and Tranio stand 
 aside. 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no further. 
 For how I firmly am resolv'd you know ; 
 That is, — nut to bestow iny youngest daughter, 
 Before I have a husband for the eld%°: 
 If either of you bi th love Katharina, 
 Because I know you well, and love you well. 
 Leave shall you lui\e to court her at your pleasure. 
 
 Gre. To cart her rather; Siie's too rough for 
 me ; — 
 There, there, Mortensio, will you any wife? 
 
 Kath. I pray you, sir, '^lo Hap.) is it yoiu- will 
 To make a stale of me amongst these mates i 
 
 Hor. Mates, maid! Iiow mean you that? no 
 mates for you. 
 Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 
 
 Kath. I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; 
 I wis, it is not half way to her heart: 
 But, if it were, doubt not her care should be 
 To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool, 
 And paint your face, and use you like a fool. 
 
 Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us. 
 
 Gre. And me too, good Lord! 
 
 Tra. Hush, master I here is some good pastime 
 toward; 
 That wench is stark mad, or wonderful frovvard. 
 
 Lite. But in the other's silence I do see 
 Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety. 
 Peace, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Well said, master ; mum ! and gaze your fill . 
 
 Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good 
 What I have said, — Bianca, get you in : 
 And let it not displea.se thee, good Bianca ; 
 For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. 
 
 Kath. A pretty peat! 'tis best 
 Put finger in the eye, — and she knew why. 
 
 Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. — 
 Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe : 
 My books, and instruments, shall be my companv ; 
 On them to look, and practise by myself. 
 
 Luc. Hark, Tranio ! thou may'st hear MincrvH 
 speak. f Aside, i 
 
 Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange"* 
 Sorry am I, that our good will efTecLs 
 Bianca's grief. 
 
 Gre. Why, will you mew her up, 
 
 Signio' Baptista, for this fiend of hell, 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 TAMIXG OF THE SHREW. 
 
 211 
 
 And mate her bear the penance of her tongue ? 
 
 Buv. Gentlemen, content ye; I .Tin resoiv'd : — 
 Go in, Bianca. [Exit Bianco. 
 
 And i'or 1 know, she t.iketli most delight 
 In music, instiiiments, and poetry, 
 ISclio(ilm:isters will I keep wilinu niy house, 
 Fit to instruct her yoiilh. — It' you, Horteusio, 
 Or, signior Gjeniio, you, — know any such, 
 Prel'iT theui hither; lor to conning men 
 I will be very kind, and liberal 
 To mine own child reii in good brin4ing*up: 
 And so farewell. Kathanna, you may stay ; 
 For I have more to coiiimune with Bianca. [Exit. 
 Kath. Why, and 1 tiust, I may go too; may 1 
 not? [like. 
 
 What, sliall I be appointed hours; as though, be- 
 I knew not what to take, and wliat to leave .'' Ha ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 Gre. You may go to the dmil's dam; your gifts 
 are so good, here is none will hold you. Their 
 iove is not so great, Horteiisio, but we may biow 
 our nails together, and fast it fairly out ; our cake's 
 dough on both sides. Farewell : — Yet, for the love 
 I bear my sweet Bianca, if 1 can by any means 
 light on a tit man, to teach her that wherein she de- 
 lights, I will wish him to her lather. ; , «* 
 
 Hor. So will I, signior Gremio : But a word, I 
 pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never 
 brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheUi 
 ns boih, — that we may yet again have access to our 
 fair mistress, and lie happy rivals in Biancas love, 
 — to labour and effect one thing 'specially. 
 G)-e. What's tliat. I pray '! 
 Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. 
 Gre. A husband ! a devil. 
 Hor. I say, a husband. 
 
 Gre. I say, a devil -. Thiiik'sr thou, Ilortensio, 
 though her father be \eiy rich, any man is so very a 
 fool to be married to hell ;' 
 
 Hor. 'I'usli, Greinio, though it pass your patience, 
 and mine, to endure her loud alarums, why, man, 
 theri- be good fellows in the world, an a man could 
 light on tiieiii , would take her with all faults, and 
 money enough. 
 
 Gre. 1 cannot tell ; I but had as lief take her 
 dowry with this condition,^o be whipped at the 
 high cross every morning. 
 
 Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in 
 rotten apples. But, come ; since tliis bar in law 
 makes us (riend-s, it shall be so far fortii friendly 
 maintained, — till by hel,jiug Baptista's eldest 
 daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for 
 a husband, and then have to't afresti, — Sweet Bian- 
 ca I — H.ippy man be his dole ! He that runs fast- 
 est, gets the ring. How say you. signior Gremio ? 
 
 Gre. I am agreed : and 'would I had given him 
 the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that 
 would tiioroughiy woo her, wed her, and bed her, 
 and rid the ho;ise of her. Come on. 
 
 _ [Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio. 
 Tra. (Advancing.) I pray, sir, tell me, — Is it 
 possible 
 That love should of a sudden take such hold? 
 
 hue. O Tranio, til! I found it to be true, 
 I never thought it possible, or likely ; 
 But see ! while idly I stood looking on, 
 
 I found the effect of love in idleness : 
 And now in plainness do confess to thee, — 
 That art to me as secret, and as dear. 
 
 As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, — 
 Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, 
 If I achieve not this young modest girl : 
 Counsel nie, Tranio, for I know tliou canst: 
 Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. 
 
 Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you nowr ; 
 Affection is not rat^d from the heart : 
 
 II love have toiich'd you, nought remains bat so, — 
 Ridinie te captum quam qtieas minimo. [tents ; 
 
 Liuc. Graim-rcies, Ltd ; go forward : this con- 
 The rest will comfort, for tiiy counsel's sound. 
 
 Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid. 
 
 Perhaps you marked not what's (he pith of all. 
 Jjitc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face. 
 Such as the daughter of Agenor had, 
 Tliut made great Jove to liunible him to her hand. 
 When with his knees lie kiss'd the Cretan strand. 
 Tra. Saw you no more? mark you not, how her 
 sister 
 Began to scold ; and raise up such a storm, 
 'I'h^it mortal ears might hardly endure the din ? 
 
 Luc. Tranio, 1 saw her coral lips to move, 
 And with her breath she did peri.ime the air' 
 Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her. 
 
 Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance. 
 I pray, awake, sir : If you love the maid. 
 Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it 
 
 stands : 
 Her elder sistf-r is so curst and shrewd, 
 That, till the father rid his hands of her 
 Master, your lo\ e must live a maid at home , 
 And therefore has he clo&ely niew'd her np. 
 Because she shall not be amioy'd with suitors. 
 Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel lather's he ! 
 But art thou not advis'd, he took some care 
 Toeet her cunning schoolmaster to instruct her? 
 Tra. Ay, marry, am I sir; and now 'tis plotted. 
 Luc. 1 have it, Tranio. 
 Tra. Master, for my hand. 
 
 Both our inventions meet and jump in one. 
 Luc. Tell me thine first. 
 
 Tra. You will be schoolmaster. 
 
 And undertake tiie teaching of the maid : 
 That's your device. 
 
 Luc. It is : May it be done ? 
 
 Tra. Not possible ; For who shall bear your part, 
 And be in Padia here Vincentio's son? 
 Keep house, and ply his book ; welcome his friends ; 
 ^isit his countrymen, and banquet them? 
 
 Luc. Basta ; content thee ; for I have it full. 
 VVe have not yet been seen in any house ; 
 Nc can we be distinguished by our faces, 
 '•^or man, or master: then it follows thus; — 
 I'hou sli lit be master, 'I'ranio, in my stead. 
 Keep house, and port, and servants, as I should : 
 I will some other be ; some Florentine,, 
 Some Neajiolitan, or mean man of Pisa. — 
 'Tis hati h'd, and shall be so : — Tranio, at once 
 Uncase thee ; take my colour'd hat and cloak : 
 When Biondello comes, he waits on thee ; 
 But I will charm him tirst to keep his tongue. 
 
 Tra. So had you need. (Tliey exchamje habits.) 
 In brief, then, sir, sith it your pleasure is. 
 And I am tied to be obedient ; 
 
 i For so your father chargd me at our parting: 
 le serviceable to my son, quoth he, 
 Althougli, I think, 'twas in another sense) 
 I am content to be Lucentio, 
 Because so well I love Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves : 
 And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid, 
 Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Here comes the rogue. — Sirrah, where haye you 
 been i [where are you ? 
 
 Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now, 
 Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes? 
 Or you stol'n his ? or both '? pray, what's the news ? 
 
 Luc. Sirrah, come hither, 'tis no time to jest. 
 And therefore frame your manners to the time. 
 Your fellow Tranio, here, to save my life, 
 Puts my apparel and my countenance on. 
 And 1 lor my escape have put on his ; 
 For ill a quarrel, since I came ashore, 
 I kill'd a man, and fear 1 was descried. 
 Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, 
 While I make vvay from hence to save ray life : 
 You understand me ? 
 
 Bion. I, sir ? ne'er a whit. 
 
 Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your uioutli; 
 
212 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Tran'o is oliang'd into Lncentio. 
 
 hton. 'rhe better for liiiii ; 'Would I were so too I 
 
 Tra. So would I, i'aith, boy, to have the next 
 
 «.vish iitler,— [d;»iiohter. 
 
 Tliat Luceiitio indeed had Baptista's youngest 
 
 (Jut, sirrah, — not ibr my sake, but your masters, — 
 
 I advise [cuniuaiiies: 
 
 You use yoiH- manners discreetly in all kind of 
 
 Wiun I am alone, why, then 1 am IVanio : 
 
 Hut in all jjlares else, your master Lucentio. 
 
 liiic. Tiunio, let's go : — 
 One tiling more rests, that thyself execute ; — 
 'Jo make one among these wooers; If thou ask me 
 
 why, 
 Sufliceth, my reasons are both good and weighty. 
 
 1 KxeuTit. 
 1 A^rw. My lord, younod; you do not mind the 
 
 play. 
 Sly. Ye.s, by saivt Anne, do I. A good viatter 
 surety ; Comes there any more of it ! 
 Paije. My lord, fis bid be.ijun. 
 Sly. "J is a. very excellent piece of work, madam 
 lady ; ' Would' t were done ! 
 
 Scene il. — The same. Before Hortensio's. 
 House. 
 
 Enter Petruchio and Grumio. 
 
 Pet. Verona, ibr a while I lake my leave. 
 To sie my friends in Padua ; but, of all, 
 My best beloNed and aiiproved Iriend, 
 Hoitensio; and, I tiow, this is his house : — 
 ileie, sirrah Orumio ; knock, I say. 
 
 Gru. Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is 
 there i<>iy man has rebused your woiship'!" 
 
 Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. 
 
 Cru. Knock yon liere, sir "^ why, sir, what an. 
 I, sir. that 1 should knock you here, sir ? 
 
 Pet. Villain, 1 say, knock meal this gate. 
 Aid rap me well, or I'll kiKick .\oiir knave's pate. 
 
 Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome: I siiouk! 
 knock you first. 
 And then I know after who comes by the worst. 
 
 Pet. Will it not be ■> 
 'Faiih. sin ah, and you'll not knock, I'll wring it; 
 I'll liy how you can sol, fa. and sing it. 
 
 !' He wrinys Grumio by the ears. ) 
 
 Gru. Help, masltrs, help ! my master is mad. 
 
 Pet. Now, knock when I bid you : sirrali ! vil 
 lain ! 
 
 Enter Hortensio. 
 
 Hor. How now! what's the matter?— My old 
 friend Grumio! and my good friend Petruchio! — 
 How do yon all at Veioiiii i 
 
 Pel. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the 
 Con tutto il core bene trovato, may 1 say. Ifi ay ? 
 
 Hor. Alia nostra casa bene venuto, 
 Molto konorato siynor viio Petruchio. 
 Rise, Grumio, rise; we will conijjouud this quarrel. 
 
 Gru. N.iy, 'tis no matter, what he leges in Latin. 
 — Il liiis b>- not a lawful caii.se tor me lo leave his 
 service, — Look you, sir, — he bid me knock him, and 
 rap him soundly, sir: Well, was it fit for a servant 
 to use his master so; being, perhaps, (for aught 1 
 9*e), two and thirty, — a pip out i 
 Wl'ioin, 'would to Gud, i liad well knock'd at first, 
 TliPii had not Grumio come by the worst. 
 
 Pet. A sen-sehss villain I— Gcd Hortensio, 
 I badf the rascal knock npou youi gale, 
 And Could not get iiim for my lieait to do it. 
 
 Gru. Knock at the gate :' — O heavens! 
 Spake you not tliese woids plain, — Sirrah, knock 
 me here, \ly{ 
 
 Rap me here, knock me well, and knock me sound- 
 Ai"' come you now witu — k.o' king .it the gaie :" 
 
 Pet. Sirrah, be g(aie,oi tjik not, I advise you. 
 
 Hiir. Petruchio, p^ti nee ; 1 am C.niuiio's pledge : 
 VVIiv. tliis is a Inaw cliance 'tw.xt ni.n and vou; 
 Your ancient, trusty, pi. .isait seivaiit Ciiiiinio. 
 And tell lue now, swtet I.k nd, — what happy gale 
 
 Blows yon to Padua here, from old Verona? 
 
 Pet. Such wind as scatters young men throc^h 
 the world. 
 To seek their fortunes further than at home. 
 Where small experience grows. B .t, in a few, 
 .Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with nie : — 
 Antonio, my latiier, is deceasd ; 
 And 1 liave thrust myself into this maze. 
 Haply to wive, and thrive, as best 1 may : 
 Crowns in rny purse 1 have, and goods at home. 
 And so am come abroad to see the world. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to 
 thee, 
 And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favoiir'd wife? 
 'I'lioud st thank me but a little for my counsel : 
 And yet I II promise thee she shall be rich. 
 And very rich : — but thou'rt too niiicli my friend. 
 And I'll not wish thee to her. 
 
 Pet. Siguier Hortensio, twixt such friends as we. 
 Few words suffice : and, therefore, if thou know 
 One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, 
 (As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,) 
 Be she as foul as was Floientius' love, 
 As old as Sybil, •ind as curst and shrewd 
 As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse. 
 She moves not, or nut removes, at least. 
 Affection's edge in me ; were she as rough 
 As are the swelling Adriatic seas : 
 
 I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; 
 
 II Wt-altliiiy, then happily in Padua. 
 
 Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what 
 his mind is : W hy, give him gold enough, and marry 
 him lo a puppet, or an aglet baby; or an old trot 
 with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she have as 
 many diseases as two and lilty hor.ses : why, nothing 
 conies amiss, so money comes withal. 
 
 Hor. Petinchio, since we have stepp'd thus far 
 1 will continue that I bioach'd in jest. [in, 
 
 I can, Petruchio, help tliee to a wile 
 With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous; 
 Brought up as best becomes a genfewoman : 
 Her only lault (and that is faults enough.) 
 Is, — that she is intolerably curst, 
 .And shrewd, and fiovvard; so beyond all measure. 
 That, were my .state far worser than it is, 
 I would not wed her for a mine of gold. 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, peace ; thou kiiow'st not gold's 
 effect : — 
 Tell me her lather's name, and 'lis enough; 
 For I will board her, though she chide as loud 
 As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. 
 
 //or. Her father is Baptista Minola, 
 An allable and couiteoos genileman: 
 Her nuiiie is Kathariiia Minola, 
 Uenowi'd in Padua liir her scolding tongue. 
 
 Pet. I know her lather, though I know not her; 
 And he knew my deceased father well: 
 I \vill not sleep, Hortensio, till i see her; 
 And therefore let -. be thus bold with you, 
 To give you over at this first encounter. 
 Unless yiiu will accompany me thither. 
 
 Gru. I pray you. sir, let him go while the humour 
 lasts. O my woid, an she ki.ew him as well as I 
 do, she would think scolding would do litile good 
 upon him: She may, perhaps, call him half a score 
 knaves, or so: why, that's nothing; an he legin 
 once, he'll rail in his rope tricks. I'll teli you what, 
 sir,— an she stand iiim but a little, he will throw a 
 figure in her face, and so di.sfigiire her with it, thai 
 siie shall have no more eyes lo .see withal than a 
 cat: You know him not, sir. 
 
 Hor. 'i'arry, Petruchio, 1 must go with thee; 
 For in Baptista's keep my treasure is: 
 He liath the jewel ol my life in hold. 
 His JO ngest daughter, beautiful Bianca; 
 And iiei wittiiiolds from me, and other more 
 Siitois lo htr, and rivals in my love: 
 .Sii;iposiiig it a thing impossilile. 
 (I'or those defecls i nave before reliears'd,) 
 'ihat ever Kathaiina wu! be wood. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TAMING OF THE .STTREW. 
 
 213 
 
 llierefore this order Iiath Baptisfa ta'en ; — 
 Tlial riuiic snail liave arrcss unto Bianca, 
 Till Kaltr.iriue the curst have got a liiishaiid. 
 
 Grti. Katharine the ciir^t I 
 A ti le for a niaidvol'all titles the worst. 
 
 Htir. Now shall my friend Petrncliio do ine graoe, 
 And oUor nic, disgnis'd in sober robes. 
 To old B.iptista as a schoolmaster 
 Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca : 
 That so I may by this device, at least, 
 Have leave and leisure to make love to her, 
 Aad, uDSiisijected, court her by herself. 
 
 Enter Hremio; wil/i him Lucentio Ulsiyuised, 
 ivith books under his arm. 
 
 Cru. Here's no knavery ! See, to beguile the old 
 folks, how the young folks lay their heads together; 
 Master, master, look about you; Who goes tlicre.^ 
 ha! 
 
 Hor. Peace, Gruniio; 'tis the rival of my love: 
 — Petruchio, stand by a while. 
 
 Gru. A proper stripling, and an amorous ! 
 
 [They retire.) 
 
 Gre. O, very well ; I have perus'd the note. 
 Hark you, sir; I'll have tliem very fairly bound: 
 All books of love, see that at any hand ; 
 And see jou read no other lectures to her: ' 
 Vou understand me : — Over and beside 
 Signior Baptist:!'^ liberality, 
 
 I'll mend it witii a largess; — Take your papers too. 
 And let me have them veiy well perfumd; 
 For she is sweeter than perfume itself, 
 To whom tliey go. W at will yon read to her? 
 
 Luc. VVhate'er I read to her, I'll plead for yon. 
 As for niy patron, (slaml you so assnr'd.) 
 As (irmly as yourself were still in place: 
 Yea, and (perhaps) with more successfid words 
 Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. 
 
 Gre. O this learumg ! what a thing it is .' 
 
 (Iru. O tills woodcock \ what an ass it is ! 
 
 I'et. Peace, sirrah, 
 
 //or. Grumio, mum ! — God save you, signior 
 Gremio ! [Trow you, 
 
 Gre. .And you're well met, signior Hortensio. 
 '^^ hitlier I am going? — To Baptista Minoia. 
 I proniis'd to enquire carelidly 
 About a schoolmaster fur (air Bianca : 
 And, by good fortune, ( have lighted well 
 On this young man; for learning and beliaviour. 
 Fit for her turn ; well read in poetry. 
 And other books, — good om s, I warrant yon. 
 
 Hor. 'Tis well : and 1 have met a gentleman, 
 Eiaiii proniis'd me to help me to another, 
 A fine musician to instruct our mistress ; 
 So sliull 1 no whit be behind in duty 
 To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me. [prove. 
 
 Gre. Belov'd of me, — and that my deeds sliall 
 
 Grii. And that his bags shall prove. [Aside.) 
 
 Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our lo\e : 
 Listen to me, and if you speak me lair, 
 I'll tell you news indid'erent good fur either. 
 Here is a gentleman, whom by chance 1 met. 
 Upon agreement from us to his liking. 
 Will midertake to woo cnrst Katliarine ; 
 i'ea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. 
 
 Gre. So said, so dunt^, is well : — 
 Horlensio, have you told him all her faults? 
 
 Pet. I know sue is an irksome brawling scold ; 
 If tiiat be all, masters, I hear no harm. [man? 
 
 Gre. No, say'st me so, fiend? What countty- 
 
 Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son: 
 My father dead, my fortune lives lor me; 
 And I d-j hope good days, and long, to see. 
 
 Gre. O, sir, such a lile, witli such a wife, were 
 strange : 
 But, if you luiie a stomach, to"t, o'God's name; 
 Vou shall nave me assisting you in all. 
 But will vou woo this wild cat? 
 
 Pet. Will I live ? 
 
 Gni. Will he woo her ? ay, or I'll hang her 
 
 [Andt) 
 Pet. Why came I hither, but to tliat intet.t ? 
 
 'I'liink you a little din can daunt mine ears? 
 
 Have 1 not in my time heard lions roar? 
 
 Have 1 not heard the sea, pulf d up with wIikIs, 
 
 Rage like an angry boar, ciiafed with sweat? 
 
 Have 1 not heai-l great ordnance in the field, 
 
 .And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? 
 
 Have I not in the pitched battle hr-ard 
 
 Loud 'lariims, iieigUuig steeds, and tiuinpets' clang' 
 
 And do you tell ine ot a woman's tongue. 
 
 That gives not half so great a bl<iw tu the ear. 
 
 As will a chesnut in a farmer's lire ? 
 
 'I'nsh I tush 1 fear boys witli bugs. 
 
 Gru. For he (ears none. [Aside,] 
 
 Gre. Hortensio, hark I 
 
 This gentleman is happily arriv'd, 
 
 My mind presumes, iiir liis own good, and yours. 
 Hor. I proniis'd, we would be t onlnbiitors. 
 
 And bear liis charge ol Wooing, whatsoe'er. 
 
 Gre. .\nd so we will ; piovided, that he win her 
 Gru. 1 would, 1 were as sure of a good dinner. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Enter Tranio, bravely apjiarell'd, and Bionueli.o 
 
 Tra. (ientlemcn, God sa\e vou! H 1 maybe 
 bold, 
 Tell nip, I beseech ytiii, wlin h is the readiest way 
 To the house of signior B.iptista Minola ? 
 
 Gre. He tliat lias the two (air daugliters ; — 
 [A.'iide to Trunio.) is't he you mean? 
 
 Tra. I'^xeii he. Biondeilo! 
 
 Gre. Hark yon, sir; You mean not her to 
 
 Tra. Periiaps, him and her, sir? What have you 
 to do ? 
 
 y 
 
 ts 
 
 Pet. Not her that chides, sii , at any hand, I pr: 
 Tra. I love no chiders, sir; — Bioiidello, le 
 
 [Aside.] 
 
 away. 
 
 Luc. Well begun, Tranio. 
 
 Hur, .Sir, a word ere yon go ; — 
 Are yon a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or no? 
 
 Tra. An if 1 be, sir, is it any ottence ? 
 
 Gre. No, if, without more word.s, you will get 
 you hence. 
 
 Tra. Vv hy, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free 
 For me, as Jor you ? 
 
 Gre. But so is not she. 
 
 Tra. For what leason, 1 beseech you ? 
 
 Gre. For this reason, if you ll know. 
 
 That she's the choice love o( signior Gremio. 
 
 Hor. Thiit she's the chosen ol sigiii<'r Hortensio. 
 
 Tra. Sofiiy, my masters! if you be genlleinen, 
 Do me this light, — near me witn patience. 
 Baptista is a noble gentleman, 
 'J'o whom my (atlier is not all unknown; 
 And, were Ins (laughter f lirer tlian she is, 
 .■She m.iy more suitors have, and me for one. 
 Fair Leda's tiaughter luid a thousand wooers; 
 Tiien well one more may (air Bianca have : 
 And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one, 
 TiKMigh I'aris came, in hope to spiked alone. 
 
 Gre. What! this gentleman will out talk lis all. 
 
 Luc. Sir, give hiin head ; I know, he'll prove a 
 jade. 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these worda? 
 
 Hor. Sir, let me be so liolil as to ask you. 
 Did you ever yet see Baptista's daughter? 
 
 Tra. No, sir: but lieur I do, that he hath two; 
 The one as (amoiis for a scolding tongue. 
 As is the other for beauteous modesty. 
 
 Pet. .Sir, sir, the first's fiir me ; let her go by. 
 
 Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules: 
 And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. 
 
 Pet. Sir, understand you this ol me, in sooth ;-« 
 The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for. 
 Her lather keeps from all access ol suitors j 
 .And will not promise her to any man. 
 Until the elder sister first be wed ; 
 The younger then is free, and not before 
 
214 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Tra. If it be so, sir, that you are tlie mao 
 Must stead us all, and me among tiie rest; 
 And if vou break the ice, and do this ieat,— 
 Achieve the elder, set the younger free 
 For our access,— whose hap sliall be to have her. 
 Will not so graceless be, to be ingrate. 
 
 Hor. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive ; 
 And since you do profess to be a suitor. 
 You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, 
 To whom we all rest generally beholden. 
 
 Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack. : in sign whereot, 
 l*lease ye we may contrive this afternoon. 
 And quail" carouses to our mistress' health ; 
 And do as adversaries do in law, — 
 Strive mishtily, but eat and drink as friends. 
 
 Gru. Eton. O excellent motion ! Fellows, let s 
 begone. 
 
 Hor. The motion's good, indeed, and be it so ; 
 Petruchio, I shall be your ben vemito. [Exenrit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I.— The same. A Room in Baptista's 
 House. 
 
 Etifer Katharina and Bianca. 
 
 Bian. Good sister, wrong nie not, nor wrong 
 yourself, 
 To make a bondmaid and a slave of me ; 
 That I disdain: but for these other gawds. 
 Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myselt, 
 Vea, all my raiment, to my petticoat ; 
 Or, what you will command me, will I do. 
 So well I know my duty to my elders. 
 
 Kath. Of all tliy suitors, here I charge thee, tell 
 Whom thou lov'st best: see tliou dissemble not. 
 
 Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive, 
 • never yet belield that special face 
 Wliich 1 could fancy more than any other. 
 
 Katk. Minion, thou liest : Is't not Hortensio ? 
 
 Bian. If you affect him, sister, here I swear, 
 I'll phad lor you myself, but you shall have hiiii. 
 
 Kath. O tiien, belike, you fancy riches more; 
 Vou will have Gremio to keep you fair. 
 
 Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so? 
 Nay, then you jest; and now 1 weil perceive, 
 Vou have but jested with me all this while : 
 I pr'ytliee, sister Kate, untie my hamis. 
 
 Kat/l. W that be jest, then all Jie rest was so. 
 
 {Strikes her.) 
 
 Enter Baptikta. 
 
 liap. Why, how now, daine I whence grows this 
 
 insolence :" 
 
 Bianca, stand aside ;— poor girl ! she weeps :— 
 Go ply thy needle ; meddle not with her.— 
 For shame, thou hildiiig of a devilish spirit. 
 Why dost thou wrong her, that did ne'er wrong 
 
 thee i 
 When did she cross thee with a bitter wurd ? 
 
 Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I")! be re- 
 veno-ed. [Flies after Bianca. 
 
 Bap. What, in my sight?— Bianca, !>et tliee in. 
 
 [Exit Biajica. 
 
 Kath. Will you not suffer me ? Nay, now 1 see, 
 Slie is y)ur treasure, she must have a iiusband ; 
 I nuist dance bare toot on her wedding-day, 
 Anil, for your love to her, lead apes in hell. 
 Tnlk not to me ; I will go sit and weep. 
 Till I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit Kath. 
 
 Bap. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as 1 i 
 But wlio comes here i 
 
 Enter Gremio, with Lucentio in the habit of a 
 mean man ; Petruchio, with Hortensio «s « 
 musician; and'i'Kxsio, with Biondello, bearing 
 a lute and books. 
 
 (ire. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista. 
 Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio : God 
 save you, gentiemeu! 
 
 Pet. And vou, good sir'. Fiav, have you uol 
 Call'd Katharina, lair, aad virtu. .us ? idaughte 
 
 Bap. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katliiirina. 
 
 Gre. Vou are too blunt ; go to it orderly. 
 
 l*et. You wrong me, signior Gremio ; give me 
 leave. — 
 I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, 
 That, — hearing of her beauty, and her wit. 
 Her affability, and bashful modesty. 
 Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,— 
 Am bold to show myself a forward guest 
 Within your house, to make mine eye the witness 
 Of that report, which I so oft have heard. 
 And, for an entrance to my entertainment, 
 I do present you with a man of mine, 
 
 [Presendnij Hoitensio.} 
 Cunning in music, and the mathematics. 
 To instruct her fully in those sciences. 
 Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant: 
 Accept of him, or else you do me wrong ; 
 His name is Licio, born in Mantua. [sake : 
 
 Bap. You're welcome, sir ; and he, for your good 
 But for my daughter Katharina, — this I know. 
 She is not for your turn, the more my grief 
 
 Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her 
 Or else you like not of my company. 
 
 Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as I find. 
 Whence are you, sir'/ what may I call your name ? 
 
 Pet. Petruchio is my name ; Antonio's son, 
 A man well known throughout all Italy. 
 
 Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for Lis 
 sake. 
 
 Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, 
 Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too: 
 Baccare ! you are marvellous forward. 
 
 Pet. O, pardon me, signior Gremio ; I would fain 
 be doing. 
 
 Gre. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your 
 
 wooing. 
 
 Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of 
 it. 'I'o express the like kindness myself, that have 
 been more kindly beholden to you than any, I freely 
 give unto you this young scholar [presentimj Lu- 
 centio), that hath been long studying at Bheims; as 
 cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as 
 the other in music and mathematics: Ins name is 
 Canihio; pray, accept his service. 
 
 Bap. A thousand thanks, signior Gremio: wel- 
 come, good Cambio. — But, gentle sir, {to Tranio.) 
 lufthinks you walk like a stranger ; May 1 be so 
 bold to know the cause of your coming i 
 
 Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine owu; 
 That, being a stranger in this city here. 
 Do make myself a suitor to your daughter. 
 Unto Bianca, lair, and virtuous. 
 Nor is your firm res.dve unknown to me, 
 In the preferment of the elder sister: 
 This liberty is all that 1 request, — 
 That, upon knowledge of my parentage, 
 I may have welcome 'mangstthe rest that woo. 
 And free access and favour as the rest. 
 And toward the education of your daughters, 
 1 here bestow a simple instrument, 
 -And this small packet of Greek end Latin books: 
 If you accept them, then their wortli is great. 
 
 Ba[i. Lucentio is your name i of whence, I pray ? 
 
 Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. 
 
 Bap. A mighty man of Pisa ; by report 
 I know him well : yon are very welcome, sir. — 
 Take you {to Hor.) the lute, and you [to Luc.) the 
 
 set of books, 
 You shall go see your pupils presently 
 Holla, within ! 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sirrah, lead [both. 
 
 These gentlemen to my daughters; and tell them 
 These are their tutors ; bid them use them weiL 
 
 [Exit Servant, with Hurtensio, Liircnt-o 
 Blonde llo. 
 
SCKNH 1. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 215 
 
 We will go walk a little in the orchard, 
 
 And then to dinner: You are passing welcome, 
 
 \ud so 1 pray yim all to think yoiuselves. 
 
 fit. Sifjnior Uaptista, niy btisiness asketh haste, 
 And "very day I cannot come to woo. 
 V on knew my father well; and in iiiin, tne, 
 Lett solely heir to all his lands and goods, 
 W'liicii 1 have better'd rather than decreas'd: 
 Tiien tell me, — If I get your daughter's love, 
 VV'iiat dowry shall I have with her to wife ? 
 
 Bap. Alter my death, the one half of my lands ; 
 Anil, in possession, twenty thousand crowns. 
 
 Pet. And, for tnat dowry, I'll assure her of 
 Mer wiilowhood, — be it that she survive me, — 
 In all my lands and leases wnatsoever: 
 Let specialties be therefore drawn between us, 
 'I'liat covenants may be kept on either hand. 
 
 Bap. Ay when the sjiecial thing is well obtain'd. 
 That IS, — her love ; for that is all in all. 
 
 Pei. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, 
 J am as peremptory as she prouduiinded ; 
 And where two raging tires meet to^^ether. 
 They do consume tne thing tnat feeds their fury : 
 'J'hough little fiie grows great with little wind, 
 Vet extreme gusts vvill blow out lire and all : 
 So I to her, and so she yields to me ; 
 For I am rougii, and woo not lik.e a babe. 
 
 Bap. Well inay'st thou woo, and happy be thy 
 speed 1 
 Hut be thou urm'd for some unhappy words. 
 
 Pei. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, 
 That shake not, though they blow perpetually. 
 
 Re enter HoRTENSlO, ivit/i his head broken. 
 
 Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look 
 so pale '! 
 
 Hor. Fur tear, I promise you, il I look pale. 
 
 Bap. What, will my ilaiighter prove a good 
 musician i" 
 
 Hur. 1 Ihiiik, she'll sooner prove a soldier; 
 Iron ma\ hold witli her, but iiev^r lutes. (lute";' 
 
 Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the 
 
 Hur. W'hy, no ; for she hath broke the lute to me. 
 i dill bat tell her she mistook her frets. 
 And bowd her hand to teach her lingering; 
 Wlien, with a most iiu|)atient (lev ilish spir.t. 
 Frets, call you these! qiiotli she : /// fume with 
 
 tlieiii : 
 And, with that word, she struck me on the head. 
 And through the instrument my p;ite made way ; 
 And there I stood amazed for a while. 
 As on a pillory, looking through the lute: 
 While she did call me, — rascal hddlcr. 
 And — twangling Jack ; with twenty such vile terms, 
 As she had studied to misuse me so. 
 
 Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ; 
 
 I love her ten times more tliau e'er 1 did; 
 O, how I long to have some chat with her I 
 
 Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discom- 
 fited : 
 Proceed in practice with my j'ounger daughter ; 
 •IJhe's apt to learn, and thankful lor good turns. — 
 Signior Petriichio, will you go with us. 
 Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ? 
 
 Pet. I pray you do, 1 will attend lur here, — 
 
 [Exeunt Baptista, Gre/uio, Tranio, and 
 Hurlensio. 
 And woo her with some si'irit, wlien she comes. 
 S.iy, that she rail; Why, tuen I'll tell lier plain, 
 8he sin;;s as sweetly as a nightingale: 
 Siiy, that she frosvn ; I'll say, she looks as clear 
 As nioiiiing roses newly wasli'd with dew: 
 Say, she be mute, and will not spiak. a word ; 
 i hen I'll coiiiniend her volubility. 
 And say — she utteretli piercing eloquence : 
 
 II she do bid me pack, I'll give lier tiianks. 
 As though she bid me stay by her a week; 
 If tiie deny to wed, I'll crave the day 
 
 When I shall ask the banns, and wiieu be married : — 
 But liere she comes; aud now, Fctiuchio, speak. 
 
 Enter Katharfna. 
 
 Good-morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I hear. 
 
 Kath. VVell have you heard, but something hard 
 of hearing; 
 They call me Katharine, that do talk of me. 
 
 Pet. You lie, in faith ; for you are call'd plain 
 Kate, 
 And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; 
 But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
 Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
 For dainties are all cates: and therefore, Kate, 
 Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; — 
 Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, 
 'I'hy virtues spoke of and thy beauty sounded, 
 (\et not so deeply as to thee belongs,) 
 Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. 
 
 Kath. Mov'd ! in good time : let him, that mov'd 
 you hither, 
 Remove you hence ; I knew you at the first, 
 You were a moveable. 
 
 P^t. VV^hy, what's a moveable ? 
 
 Kath. .\ joint-stool. 
 
 Pet. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. 
 
 hath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. 
 
 Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you. 
 
 Kath. No such jade, sir, as you, if me you mean. 
 
 Pet. Alas, good Kate ! I will not burden thee : 
 For^ knowing ttiee to be but young and light, — 
 
 Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch ; 
 And yet as heavy as my weight (should be. 
 
 Pet. Should be ? should buz. 
 
 Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. 
 
 Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take 
 thee':* 
 
 hat. Ay, for a turtle ; as he takes a buzzard. 
 
 Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i'laith, you are too 
 angiy. 
 
 Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. 
 
 Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out. 
 
 Kath. Ay, if the tool could tind out where it lies. 
 
 Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his 
 In his tail. (sting? 
 
 hath. In his tongue. 
 
 Pet. _ Whose tongue ? 
 
 hath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell. 
 
 Pet. What, with my tongue in jour tail ? nay, 
 come again. 
 Good Kate ; I am a gentleman. 
 
 hath. That I'll try {Striking him.) 
 
 Pet. I swear I'll culf you, if you strike again. 
 
 hath. So niiiy you lose your arms : 
 If you strike me, you are no gentleman ; 
 And if mi gviitleman, why, then no anus. 
 
 Pet. A herald, Kate;' O, put me in thy books. 
 
 hath. VV^hat is your crest? a coxcomb ? 
 
 Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hei). 
 
 Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven. 
 
 Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look 
 so sour. 
 
 hath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 
 
 Pet. Why here's no crab ; and therelbre look 
 
 Kath. 'J'here is, there' is. (not sour. 
 
 Pet. Then show it me. 
 
 Kath. Had I a glass, I would. 
 
 Pet. What, you mean my lace ? 
 
 Kat. WeW aiih'd of such a young one. 
 
 Pet. Now, by .Saint George, I am too young for 
 
 Kath. Yet you are witlier'd. [you- 
 
 Pet. 'Tis with cares. 
 
 Kath. 1 care not. 
 
 Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'sca^e 
 not so. 
 
 Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go. 
 
 Pet. No, not a whit; I (ind you passing gentle. 
 'Twas told me, you were rough, aud coy, and siilleo, 
 And now I find report a very liar; 
 For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous ; 
 Hut slow in speech, yet sweet as si>ring-t''"e tJower« 
 Thou canst not frown, thou canst not lool «^sLaa t , 
 
21G 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Not bite the lip, as angry wenches will : 
 Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ; 
 Butthoo with mildness eiitertain'st thy wooers. 
 With Leiitle conference, soft and all'iible. 
 W'liy J «es the world report, that Kate doth limp? 
 
 slanderous world I Kate, like the hazel-twig. 
 Is straight, and slender ; and as brown in hue 
 As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
 O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt. 
 
 Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st couimand. 
 
 Ptt. Did ever Diau so become a grove. 
 As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? 
 O, be thou Di:in, and let her be Kate ; 
 And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful ! 
 
 Kath. Where did you study all this goodly 
 speech ? 
 
 Pet. It IS extempore, from my mother-wit. 
 
 Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son. 
 
 Pet. Am I not wise ? 
 
 Kath. Yes ; keep you warm. 
 
 Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, iu thy 
 bed : 
 And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
 Thus in plain terms : — Your father has consented. 
 That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed on ; 
 And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
 Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; 
 For, by this light, whereby i see thy beauty, 
 ri'hy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,) 
 'I'hoii must be married to no man but me : 
 For I am he am born to tame you, Kate; 
 And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate 
 Gonfoimable, as other household Kates. 
 Here com -s your lather; never make denial, 
 
 1 must and will have Katharine to my wifti 
 
 Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tv.Miio. 
 
 Bap. Now, 
 Signior Petruchio : flow speed you with 
 My d iiighter ? 
 
 Pet. How but well, sir? how but well? 
 
 It were impossible, I should speed aiuiss. 
 
 Ba}). VVhy, how now, daughter Katharine? in 
 your dumps ? [von, 
 
 Kath. Call you me, daui;h(er? now I promise 
 You have show'd a tender fatherly regard. 
 To wish me wed to one half lunatic ; 
 A mad cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, 
 That thiiiKS wilU oaths to lace tlit- matter out. 
 
 Pet. Father, 'tis thus, — you i sell' and a J tlie world, 
 That talk'd of her, have taik'd amiss ol her; 
 If she be curst, it is for policy: 
 For she's not froward, but modest as the do»e ; 
 She IS not hot, but temperate as the nioni ; 
 For patience she will prove a second Gnssel; 
 And Koiiiau Lucrece ibr her ciiastity. 
 And to conclude, — -we have 'greed so well together. 
 That upon Sunday is tiie wedduig-day. 
 
 Kath I'll see tliee haiig'd on Sunday first. 
 
 Gre. Haik, Petmchio! she says, she'll see thee 
 hang'd first. 
 
 Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night 
 our part I 
 
 Pet. Be patient, gentlemen ; I choose her fur 
 myself; 
 /f she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you? 
 Tis baigaiiid 'twixt us twain, being alone. 
 That slie shall still he curst in comp.iny. 
 I tell you, 'tis incredible tu believe 
 How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate : — 
 She hung about my neik; and kiss ou kiss 
 She vied so fast, protesting oath on oith, 
 Tliat iu a twink she won me to her love. 
 O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see. 
 How tame, when men and wmncn are alone, 
 .\ meacock wretch can make the ciirsest shrew. — 
 Give me lliy hand, Kate : 1 will unto Venice, 
 To buy apparel "gainst the wedding-day : — 
 Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; 
 I will be sure, my Kathnrine shall be line. 
 
 Bap. I know not what ia say : but give me yooi 
 hands ; 
 God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. 
 
 Gre. Tra. Amen, say we ; we will be witnesses. 
 
 Pet. Frtther, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; 
 
 I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace : 
 
 We will have rings, and things, and tine array ; 
 And kiss me, K^ite, we will be married o'Sunday. 
 [Exeunt Petruchio and Kaiharma severally- 
 
 Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly i 
 
 Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a luerchant'.s 
 And venture madly on a desperate mart. Ipait, 
 
 Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay Irettiiig by you : 
 'Twill bring you gain, or jierish on the seas. 
 
 Bap. Tlie gain 1 seek is — quiet in the match. 
 
 Gre. No doubt, but he hatli got a quiet catch. 
 But now, Baptisia, to your younger daughter ; — 
 Now is the day we long have looked lor ; 
 1 am your neigliboiir, and was suitor first 
 
 Tra. And 1 am one, that love Bianca more 
 Than words can witness, or your thoughts can 
 guess. 
 
 Gre. \ oiingling ! thou canst not love so dear as L 
 
 Tra. Grey beard I thy love doth freeze. 
 
 Gre. But thine doth fry. 
 
 Skipper, stand back ; 'tis age, that nourishetii. 
 
 Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes tliat Boiiiisheth. 
 
 Bap. Content you, gentleiiieu ; I'll compmind ihis 
 sti iie : 
 'Tis deeds, must win the prize ; and he, of bocli. 
 'J'liat can assure my daughter greatest dower. 
 Shall have Bianca's lovr. — 
 Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her? 
 
 Gre. First, as you know, my house vvilliiii the 
 city 
 Is richly furnished with plate ano gold; 
 Basins, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands; 
 My hangings all ofTyrian tapestry: 
 In ivory coti'ers I tiave stiill'd my crowns; 
 In cypress chests my arras, tounti'rpoiut.s, 
 Costly apparel, tents and canopies, 
 Fine linen, 'I'urkey cushions boss'd with [leari. 
 Valance of Venice, gold in ueedle-vvoik, 
 Pewter and brass, and all things tlial beliug 
 To house, or housekeeping: tiieii, at my faiiii, 
 I have a hundred milch-kine to the |).iil, 
 Sis score fat oxen stimiling in my stahs, 
 And ail things answerable to this portion. 
 Myself am stmck in years, 1 must cuiilcss; . 
 And, if 1 die to-morrow, tliis is hers, 
 II, whilst I live, she will be only mine. 
 
 Tra. That, only, came well in. Sir, list to mt-,, 
 
 I am my lather's lieir, and only son : 
 
 1( 1 niiiy have your daughter to my wife, 
 
 I'll leave her houses three or four as goot}. 
 
 Within ric i Pisa wails, as any one 
 
 Old sigiiKif (iieiiiio has in Padua ; 
 
 Besides two tnoiis ud ducats by the year, 
 
 <.>f iruitlul land, all which shall be her jointure.— 
 
 What, have 1 piuch'd you, signior Gremio? 
 
 Gre. Two thousand <lii(ats by the year, of land * 
 My land amounts not to so much m alt : 
 Tuat she shall have; besides an argosy, 
 
 That now is lying in Marseilles' read : 
 
 What, have 1 cliok'd you with an aignsy? 
 
 Tra. Gremio, 'tis knt^vii, my father halh no les? 
 Thau three great argosies; besides two galliasses 
 And twelve tight gallies : these 1 will a.-^siin* her, 
 .\iid twice as iniicii, whate'er thou oftei'st next. 
 
 Gre. Nay, 1 have oli'er'd all, 1 nave no more; 
 And sue can have no more than all I have; — 
 
 II you like me, she shall have me and miiie. 
 
 Tra. Why, then the maid is mine Irom all IL ; 
 World, 
 By your firm , romise ; Gremio is outvied. 
 
 Jiap. 1 luuht confess, your oiler is the best; 
 And, let your fatlier make her tlie a.ssiiraiiee. 
 She is your own ; else, you must pardon me : 
 It Villi sh'iuld <lie liefiire iiiiii. wheie'.s her dow<'r ? 
 
 Tra. That's but a cavil ; he is old. 1 joiiu,;. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 217 
 
 Gre. Ami may not young men die, as well as old:' 
 
 liap VVfll, geiitienien. 
 f am thus rfsi'lv'd: — On Simdny next, you know. 
 My diiiiglitfT KHthariiie is to be married : 
 Now, oil ti.e Siinday ftillowiiig', sliail iiuinca 
 /ie bride to yoii, if you make tliis assurauce ; 
 If not, to Sij;iiii>r Gremio: 
 And so I tdke my leave, and thank yon both. [Exit. 
 
 Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. — Now I fear tiiee 
 not; 
 Sirraii, young gamester, your father wiTe a fool 
 'I'o give thee all, and, in Uis waiiuig age. 
 Set loot under tliy table : tut ! a toy ! 
 An old Italian lox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. 
 
 Tra. A vengeance on your cial'iy witner'd liide I 
 Yet i have faced it with a card often. 
 'Tis in my head to do my master good • — 
 I see no reason but siipixis'd Lucentio 
 Must get a father, cali'd — su|j|ios'd Vincentio ; 
 And that's a wonder: lathers, commonly. 
 Do get their cliddren ; but, in lliis case of wooing, 
 A cliild shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Scene I. — A Room in Bajitista's House. 
 Enter LucENrio, Hortensio, ««</ Bianca. 
 
 Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: 
 Have you so soon forgot the entertainment 
 Her sist'T Katharine welcom'd you withal? 
 
 Hor. liut, wrangling pedant, this is 
 The jmtrouess of heavenly harmony : 
 Then give me leave to have prerogative; 
 And when iii music we have spent an hour, 
 Your lei tore shall have leisure for as much. 
 
 IdUC. Pieposterous ass I that never read so far 
 To know the cause why music was ordain'd ! 
 Was it not, to refresh the inind of man. 
 After his studit-s, or his usual pain .'* 
 Then give me leave to read philosophy. 
 And, while 1 paiisp, serve in your harmony. 
 
 Hor. Sirrali, i will not bear tliese braves ii\ tliine. 
 
 Bian. \V'liy, gentlemen, you do me double wrong. 
 To strive for that, which resteth in my choice : 
 I am no breecinng scholar in the schools ; 
 I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times, 
 Uiit learn my lessons as I please myself. 
 And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: — 
 T<ike you your mstriimeut, play vou the whiles; 
 His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd. 
 
 Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I ;ini in tine ? 
 {To Bianca ; Hortensio retires.) 
 
 Luc. That will De never: — tune your instrument. 
 
 Bian Where left we last? 
 
 Luc. Here, madam : — 
 Hac ibat Sitnois ; hie est Sigeia lellus ; 
 
 Hic stelerat Priaini reyia celsa seiits. 
 
 Bian. Coiisirue tlieiu. 
 
 Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, — Siniois, I 
 am Lucentio, — hie est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, 
 — Siijeia te/ius, disguised thus to get your love; — 
 Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that coilies a- wooing, 
 — Priami, is my man Tranio, — reg a, lieaiugmy 
 port, — celsa senis, that we might liegiiile tl.e old 
 pantaloon. 
 
 Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. 
 
 {Returning.) 
 
 Bian. Let's hear; — [Hortensio plays.) 
 
 fy! the treWe jars. 
 
 Luc. Spit in the hole, nnn, and tune :'gain. 
 Bian. N'ow let me see if I can construe it: Hac 
 ibat Simois, I know you not ; Hic est Sigeia tellus, 
 
 1 trust you not ; — Hic steterat Priami, take heed he 
 hear us not ; — reyia, presume not ; — celsa senis, 
 despair not. 
 
 Hor. Aladam, 'tis now in tune. 
 Luc. All but t le base. 
 
 Hor. The base is right; 'tis the base k.iave, that 
 Hjrt Lery and forward our pedant is! [jars. 
 
 Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love ; 
 Pedascule. Ill watch you better yet. 
 
 Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. 
 
 Luc. Mistrust it not; lor, sure, iSSacide-s 
 Was Aja\, — caird so from his grandfather. 
 
 Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promisA 
 I should be arguing still upon that doubt; ty'") 
 
 But let it rest. — Now, Licio, to you : — 
 (Jood masters, take it not unkintlly. pray, 
 'I'hat I have been thus pleasant with yon both. 
 
 Hur. You may go walk, {to Luceiitio) and give 
 me leave awhile ; 
 My lessons make uo music in three parts. 
 
 Luc. Are you so formal, sir :* well, I must wait. 
 And watch withal; tor, but I be deceiv'd, 
 Our line musician groweth amorous. [Aside.) 
 
 Hor. Madam, beibre you touch the instrument. 
 To learn the oid^r of my fing^in,^ 
 I must begin with rudiments of art; 
 To teach you gamut in a briefer sort. 
 More pleasant, pitliy, and eliectual, 
 Than hath been taught by any of my trade : 
 And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. 
 
 Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. 
 
 Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. 
 
 Bian. [Reads.) Uamut / am, tim ground of all 
 A re, to plead Hortensio' s passion ; [accord, 
 
 B mi, Bianca, lake him for thy lord, 
 C faiit, that loves tvith all affection : 
 
 I) sol re, one cliff, ttvo notes have 1 ; 
 
 E la mi, show pity , or I die. 
 Call you this — gamut? tut! 1 like it not: 
 Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice. 
 To change true rules for odd inventions. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave yoiur 
 books. 
 And help to dress your sister's chamber up ; 
 You know, to-mor«)w is the wedding-day. 
 Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both ; I must be 
 giine. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. 
 
 Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to 
 stay. [Exit 
 
 Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant; 
 Methinks, he looks as though he were in love: 
 Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humlile, 
 To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale. 
 Seize thee, that list: If once I find thee ranging, 
 Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Before Baptista's House. 
 
 Enter Baptista, Gremio, 'I'ramo, Katfiarina, 
 Bianca, Lucentio, and Attendants. 
 
 Bap. Signior Lucentio, [to Tranio) this is the 
 'pointed day. 
 That Katharine and Petruchio should be mairied. 
 And yet we hear not of our son-in-law : 
 What will be said? what mockery will it be. 
 To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends 
 To speak the ceremonial riles of marriage ? 
 What says Lucentio to this shame ol' ours i 
 
 hath. No shame but mine : I must, forsooth, be 
 forc'd 
 To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart. 
 Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen; 
 Who woo d ill haste, and means to wed at leisure. 
 I told you, i, he was a trantic fool. 
 Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour: 
 And, to be noted for a merry man. 
 He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage. 
 Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim Hie bana.-^; 
 Yet never means to wed, where he hath vvoo'd. 
 Now must the world point at poor Katharine, 
 And say, — Go, there is mad Petruchio's wife. 
 If it would please him come and marry her. 
 
 Tra. Patience, good Kutliaiine, and Hrptistatoo; 
 Upon my life, Petrucliio means but well, 
 Whatever fortune stays him from his word : 
 Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ; 
 
218 
 
 ■TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 TIiniiRii he be merry, yet withal he's honest. 
 Katk. 'VVoiiid Katharine had never seen him 
 
 though ! 
 {Exit, tvee ping, followed bi/ Bianca, and it '. vs. 
 liap. iio, girl ; 1 cannot bhinie thee now to weep; 
 for such an injnry would \ex a saint, 
 Vliich more a shrew of thy impatient humour. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Bion. Master, master! news, i Id news, ;ind sucli 
 acws as yoti never heard of! 
 
 Bap. is it new and old too? how may that be ? 
 
 Bion. Why ! is it not news, to tieor of Petrnchio's 
 
 Bfip. Is he come i [coming i 
 
 Bion. Why, no, sir. 
 
 Bnp. What then? 
 
 Bion. He is coming. 
 
 Bnp. When will he he here? [there. 
 
 Bion. Whpti he stnnds where I am, and sees you 
 
 Tra. But, say, what : — To thine old news. 
 
 Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat, 
 and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice 
 turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, 
 one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword 
 ta'en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt, 
 and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse 
 hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no 
 kinibed : besides, possessed with the glanders, and 
 iike to mose in the chine ; troubled with the lanipass, 
 infected vvitii the fashions, full of wind-galls, sped 
 with spavins, raied with ihe yellows, past cure of 
 the fiv»^s, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn 
 with the biits ; swayed in the back, and shoulder- 
 »hotten; ne'er-legged before, and with a half-checked 
 bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather ; wliich, being 
 restranied to keep hiui from stumbling, hath been 
 often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girt 
 SIX tiints pieced, and a woman's cru|iper of velure, 
 which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down 
 in studs, and here and there pieced with pack- 
 thread. 
 
 Bap. Who comes with him ? 
 
 Bion. O, sir, his lackey, lor all the world capa- 
 risoned like the horse ; with a linen stock on one leg, 
 and a kersey boot-hose on the other, ijnrtered with a 
 red and blue list; an old hat, and The humour of 
 forty fancien \mc\^eAm Hot a feather: a monster, 
 a very monster in apparel; and not like a Christian 
 footboy, or a gentleman's lackey. 
 
 Tra. ''I'is some odd liumour pricks him to this 
 
 fashion ; 
 
 Vet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd. 
 
 Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoe'er he conies. 
 
 Bion. VV liy, sir, he comes not. 
 
 Bap. Di 1st th(Hi not say, he comes? 
 
 Bion. Wiio? that Petiiichio came V 
 
 Bap. Ay. that Petruchio came. 
 
 Bion. No, sir ; I say, his horse comes with him 
 on his back. 
 
 Bap. Why, tliat's all one. 
 
 Bion. Nay, by St. Janiy, I hold you a penny, 
 A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not 
 many. 
 
 Enter Petruchio and Gromio. 
 
 Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who is at 
 home ? 
 
 Bnp. You are welcome, sir. 
 
 Pet. And yet I come not well. 
 
 Bip. And yet you halt not. 
 
 Tra. Not so well apparell'd 
 
 As I wish you were. 
 
 Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus, 
 liut whcie is Kate ? where is my lovely bride?— 
 How do'S my father?— Gentles, methinks you 
 
 frown : 
 .And wherefore gaze this goodly com|)any; 
 .As if they saw some wond.oiis monmiieiit, 
 Some comet, or unusual prodigy ? [day : 
 
 Dap. Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding- 
 
 First were we sad, fearing you would not couie ; 
 Now sadder that you come so uiiprovide 1. 
 Fy I dolf this hal)it, shame to your ©state. 
 An eye-sore to our solenm festival. 
 
 Tra. And tell ns what occasion of im mi f 
 Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife 
 And sent you hither so unlike yourself? 
 
 Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: 
 Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, 
 Though in some part enforced to digress; 
 Which at more leisure I will so excuse 
 As you shall well be satisfied witiial. 
 But where is Kate? I stay too long from her; 
 The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. 
 
 Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes; 
 Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. 
 
 Pet. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her. 
 
 Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. 
 
 Pet. Good sooth, even thus; tiierefore have done 
 with words : 
 To me she's married, not unto my clothes • 
 Could ] repair what she will wear in me. 
 As I can change these poor accoutrements, 
 'Twere well (i<r Kate, and better for myself. 
 But what a fool am I, to chat with you. 
 When I shoidd bid good-morrow to my bride, 
 And seal the title with a lovely kiss? 
 
 [Exeu?it Petruchio. Grumio, and Biondello. 
 
 Tra. He hath some meaning in his bad attire: 
 W^e will persuade him, be it possible, 
 ']'o put on better, ere he go to church. 
 
 Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. 
 
 [ExiL 
 
 Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add 
 Her father's liking : Which to bring to pass^ 
 As I before imparted to yiuir worship, 
 I am to get a man, — whate'er he be, 
 It skills not nmch • we'll fit him to our t iin, — 
 And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ; 
 And make assurance, here in Padua, 
 Of greater sums than I have pnunised. 
 So shall you quietly enjoy your hope. 
 And many sweet Bianca with consent. 
 
 Luc. VVere it not tiiat my fellow schoolmaster 
 noth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 
 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our mn liaiie ; 
 Which once perform'd, let all the world say — no, 
 I'll keep mine own, desiiite of all the world. 
 
 Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into, 
 And watch our vantage in this business : 
 We'll over-reach the greybeard, (ireinio; 
 The narrow-prying father, Minola ; 
 The quaint musician, amorous Licio ; 
 All lor my master's sake, Lucentio. — 
 
 Be enter Gremio. 
 
 Signior Gremio! came you from the clnirch? 
 
 Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school. 
 
 Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming 
 home? [deed, 
 
 Gre. A bridegroom, say you ? 'tis a groom in- 
 A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. 
 
 Tra. Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible. 
 
 Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a \ery fiend. 
 
 Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. 
 
 Gre. Tut! she's a lamb, a dovt, a I'ool to him. 
 I'll tell you. Sir Lucentio : When the priest 
 Should ask — if Katharine .should be his wife. 
 At/, by goy's-tvouns, quoth he ; and swore so loud, 
 Tnat, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book : 
 And, as he stoop'd again to take it up. 
 The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
 'I'hat down fell priest and book, and book and priest; 
 Now take them tip. quoth he, if any list. 
 
 Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again? 
 
 Gre. Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd, 
 and swore, 
 .As if the \icai meant to cozen him. 
 But after many ceremonies done. 
 He calls for wine : — A health, qi'oth be ; as if 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 -TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 219 
 
 He had been abonrd, carousing to his mates 
 
 AftiT a storm ; — QiiaflPd off tiie innscadel, 
 
 And threw the sops all in tlie sexton's face ; 
 
 Having no other reason, — 
 
 But that his beard ^rew thin and hun?erly, 
 
 And sr-f:m'd to ask liim sops, as he was drinking. 
 
 'f iiis done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
 
 And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, 
 
 Tliat, ut the [/arting-, all the church did echo. 
 
 I, seeing this, cante thence for very shame ; 
 
 And after me, I know, the rout is coming: 
 
 Such a mad marridge ne»er was before : 
 
 Hark, hark! 1 hear the minstrels play. [Music] 
 
 Enter Petruchio, Kath.\rina, Bianca, Baptista, 
 HoRTENSio, Grujuo, and Train. 
 
 Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your 
 pains : 
 I know, you think to dine with me to-day, 
 And ha\e prepar'd great store of wedding cheer; 
 But so it is, my haste doth call me lience. 
 And therefore here I mean to take my leave. 
 
 Bap. Is't possible, you will away to nigh; ? 
 
 Pet. [ must away to-day, before night come : 
 Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, 
 You would entreat me rather go tiian stay. 
 And, honest company, I thank you all, 
 That have beheld nie give awa.' uiysf-lf 
 To (his most patient, sweet, an i Nirtuous wife : 
 Dine with my father, drink a health to me; 
 For I must hence, and farewell to you all. 
 
 Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after ciinner. 
 
 Pet. It may not be. 
 
 Let me entreat yon. 
 
 Ore. 
 
 Pet. It cannot be. 
 
 Knt/i. 
 
 Pet. I am content. 
 
 Kfttk. 
 
 Let rae entreat you. 
 
 Are you c intent to stay ? 
 
 Pet. I am content you shall entre it me stay ; 
 But yet not stay, entreat me h w yuii can. 
 
 Kath. Now, if you love me, stay. 
 
 Pet. Gnnnio, my horses. 
 
 Gru. Ay, sir, thf-y be ready; the oats have eatea 
 the horses. 
 
 Kath. Nay, then. 
 Do wnat thou canst, I will not go to-day; 
 No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself, 
 'i'he door is open, sir, tliere lies your way, 
 \ ou may be jogging, whiles your bouts are green ; 
 F<ir nip, I'll not be gone, till I please myself: — 
 'Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly groom. 
 That take it on you at the first so roundly. 
 
 Pet. O Kate, content thee ; pry'thee, be not 
 angry. 
 
 Kath. I Will be angry : What hast thou to do ?^ 
 Fatlier be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. 
 
 Gre. Ay, marry, sir : now it begins to work. 
 
 Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner : — 
 I see a woman may be made a fool. 
 If she had not a spirit to resist. 
 
 Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy com- 
 mand : 
 
 Obey the bride, you that attend on her ; 
 Go to the feast, revel and domineer, 
 Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, 
 
 Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves; 
 
 But tor my bonny Kate, she must wilh me. 
 Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; 
 I will be master of what is mine own : 
 She is oiy (>oods, my chattels; she is my house. 
 My household stiirf, my field, my barn, 
 My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; 
 And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; 
 I'll bring my action on the proudest he, 
 
 Tha* stops my way in Padua. Grumio, 
 
 Draȴ tnrtli tliy weapon, we're beset with thieves; 
 Rescue tliy mistress^if thou be a man: — (Kate; 
 Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, 
 I'll buckler tlier against a million. 
 
 [Eseunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Grumio. 
 
 Bap. Nay, let them go, h coupte of quiet onps. 
 
 Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die wilh 
 laughing. 
 
 Tra. Of all mad matches, never was the like ! 
 
 Lnc. Mistress, what's your opinion of your Mistei ? 
 
 Bian. That being mad herself, she's madly matedi. 
 
 Gre. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. 
 
 Bap. Neighbours and friends, thougli bride and 
 bridegroom wants. 
 For to supply the places at the table. 
 You know, there wants no j uikets at the feast; — 
 Lucentio, you shall supply the bhdegroom'.s place; 
 And let Bianca take her sister's roo.ii. 
 
 Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? 
 
 Bap. She shall, Lucentio. — Come, gentlemen, 
 let's go. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall in Petruchio' s Country House. 
 Enter Grumio. 
 Gru. Fy, fy, on all tired jades ! on all mad 
 masters! and all foul ways! Was ever man so 
 beaten '! was ever man so ray'd ? was ever man so 
 weary'!* I am sent before to make a fire, and they 
 are coming after to warm them. Now, were not i 
 a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze 
 to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, 
 my heart in my belly, ere I .slionid come by a fire 
 to thaw me : — But, I, with blovving the fire, shall 
 warm myself; for, considering I he weather, a taller 
 man than I will take cold. Holla, boa ! Curtis ! 
 
 Enter Curtis. 
 
 Curt. Who is that, calls so coldly ? 
 
 Gru. A piece of ice : If thou doubt it, thou 
 may'st slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no 
 great r a run, but my head and my neck. A fire, 
 good Curiis. 
 
 Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? 
 
 Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and therefore fiie, fire ; 
 cast on no water. 
 
 Curt Is she so hot a shrew, as she's reported '? 
 
 Gru. She was, good Curiis, before this frost: but 
 thou know'st, winter tames man, woman, and beast ; 
 for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mis- 
 tress, and myself, fellow Curtis. 
 
 Ctirt. Away, you three inch fool ! I am no beast. 
 
 Gru. Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a 
 foot; and .so long am I, at the least. But wilt thou 
 make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mis- 
 tress, whose hand (she being now at hand,) thou 
 shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow 
 in thy hot office. 
 
 Curt. I pry'thee, good Gruinio, tell me, how 
 goes the world ? 
 
 Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but 
 thine ; ami therefore, fire : Do thy duty, and have 
 thy duty ; for my master and mistress are aln:ost 
 frozen to death. 
 
 Curt. There's fire ready; and therefore, good 
 Grumio, the news ? 
 
 Gru. Why, Jack boy ! ho boy! and as much news 
 as thou wilt. 
 
 Curt. Come, you are so full of coney-catching : — . 
 
 Gru. Why, therefore, fiie; for 1 have caught ex- 
 treme cold. Where s the cook"? is supper ready, 
 the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; 
 the serving- men in their new fustian, their white 
 stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on '? 
 Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the 
 carpets laid, and every thing in order? 
 
 Curt. .All ready ; and therefore, 1 pray thee, new«? 
 
 Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my iuaat«r 
 and mistress fallen out. 
 
 Citrt. How? 
 
 Gru. O.it of their saddles into tile tiiit ; And 
 thereby hangs a tale. 
 
 Curt. Let s ha't, good Grumio. 
 
 Gru. Lend thine ear. 
 
220 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Crul. Here. 
 
 Gru. TiKTe. {Strikintj Mm.) 
 
 Vrut. rilis is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. 
 
 Uru. .-VikI tlierefort* 'tis called a sensible tale : 
 and .liis cuHwas liut to knock at your ear, and be- 
 aeecli listening. Now I \w^m : Imprimis, we came 
 dcwii a foul hill, my master riding beliind my mis- 
 tress : — 
 
 Curt. Holh on one horse '.' 
 
 (iru. What's that to thee? 
 
 Curi. U'liy, a horse. 
 
 Gru. 'I'ell tliou the tale : Beit hadst *ho(i not 
 
 crossed nic, thou should'st have hean! how her 
 faorse Ml, and she under her horse ; thou siiould'st 
 lia\e heard, in how miry a place ; how she was be- 
 Hioiled ; Imw he left her with the horse upon her ; 
 how he beat me, because her horse stumbled ; how 
 she waded tjiiough Ihe dirt, to pluck him oil' me: 
 how he swore ; h.iw she prayed — that never pray a 
 before ; how I cried ; how the horses ran away ; 
 how her bridle was burst; how 1 lost my crupper ; — 
 with many things of worthy memory; which now 
 shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced 
 to thy grave. [she. 
 
 Curt. Uy this reckoning, he is more .shrew than 
 
 Gru. Ay ; and that, thou and the proudest of you 
 all shall tiiid, when he conies home. But what talk 
 I of this'.' — call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, 
 Pliilip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest; let their 
 heads be sleekly combed, their blue cohLs brushed, 
 and their garters of an indifferent knit : let them 
 curtsy witii their left legs; and not presume to 
 touch a hair of my master's horse-tail, till they kiss 
 their hands. Are they all ready? 
 
 Curt. They are. 
 
 Gru. Call them forth. 
 
 Curt. I)i» you hear, ho? you must meet my master, 
 to countenance my mistress. 
 
 Gru. Way, she hath a face of her own. 
 
 Curl. Wno knows not that ? 
 
 Gru. Thou it seems ; that cailest for company to 
 coiiiitf nance her. 
 
 Curt, i call them forth to creilit her. 
 
 Gru. Wiiy, she comes to borrow nothing of them. 
 
 Enter several Servants. 
 
 Nal/i. Welcome home, Grumio. 
 
 P/iil. How now, Grumio i 
 
 Jus. What, GiUiiiiol 
 
 Ntc/i. Fellow Grumio! 
 
 Satli. How now, old lad ? 
 
 Gru. Welcome, you , — how now, you ; — what, 
 vou ; — fellow, you ; — and thus much for greeting. 
 Now, my spiuce companions, is all ready, and all 
 tliiiH;s iieat'r (master';' 
 
 Nal/i All tilings is ready : How near is our 
 
 Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this ; and tliere- 
 
 fore be not, Cock's passion, silence, 1 hear 
 
 Riy master. 
 
 Enter Petruchio and Katharina. 
 
 Pet. Where be these knaves ? What, no man at 
 door, 
 To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse! 
 Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, I'liiiii)? 
 
 All Serv. Here, here, sir; here, sir. 
 
 Pet. Here, sirl here, sir I here, .sir! here, s'w! 
 Vou logger-headed and uiipolish'd grooms! 
 What, no attiudance 'f no ivgaid ';" no duty ? — 
 Wht-re is the foolish knave Ist-nt before ? 
 
 Gru. Here, sir; as loolisli as I was before. 
 
 Pet. Vou peasant swain! you whoreson malt- 
 horse drudge 1 
 Did I not bid tht-e meet me in the park. 
 And biing along these rascal knaves with thee ? 
 
 Gru. Nrtt .aniel's coat, sir, was not liidy made. 
 Anil Gabriel's pumps were all unpick d i liie heel; " 
 TlietK was no link to colour Peters hal, 
 Aiid VV alters dagger wa* not come from sheathing : 
 
 There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Of«> 
 
 Sory : 
 I he rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; 
 V et, as they are, liere are they come to meet yon. 
 Pet. Go, rascals, go, and fetch my sup|ier in. 
 
 [Kveimt some of the Servants. 
 Where is the life that late 1 led — [Sinr/s. 
 
 \\ here are those sit down, Kate, and welcome 
 
 Jjoud, soud, solid, soud ! 
 
 Pe-enler Servaiits, with supper. 
 Why, when, 1 say? — Nay, good sweet Kate, be 
 
 merry. — 
 Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains; When? 
 It was the friar of orders yrey, [Sings.) 
 As he forth walked on his way : — 
 Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry : 
 Take that, and mend the jiiucking off the otiier. — 
 
 [Strikes him.) 
 Be merry, Kate : — Some water, here ; what, ho!^ 
 W here's my spaniel Troilus:' — .Sirrah, get you hence. 
 And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted 
 
 with.— 
 Where are my slippers ? — Shall I have some water ? 
 [A basin is presented to him.) 
 Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily : — 
 
 [Servant lets the ewer fall) 
 You whoreson villain ! will you let it fall ? 
 
 [Strikes him.) 
 Kath. Patience, I pray you ; 'twas a fault tin- 
 
 willmg. 
 Pet. A v.'hoieson, beetle headed, (lap-ear'd knave ! 
 Come, Kate, sit down: I know you have a stomach. 
 Will you gi\ e thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall 1 ? — 
 What is tliis? mutton? 
 1 Serv. Av. 
 
 Pet. ' Who brought it? 
 
 ] Serv. J. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat : 
 What dogs are thesel — Where is the rascal cook? 
 How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser. 
 And serve it thus to me, that love it not ? 
 There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all : 
 
 [Throws the meat, etc. about the stage.) 
 Vou heedless joltlieads, and uniurinner'd slaves ! 
 What, do you grumble ? I'll be with you straiglit. 
 Kath. I pray you, husband, be not so dis(juiet; 
 The meat was well, if you were so contented. 
 
 Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away; 
 And 1 expressly am forbid to touch it, 
 For it engenders ciioler, planteth anger; 
 And better 'twere, that both of us did fast, — 
 Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, — 
 Than feed it with such over-roasted tlesii. 
 Be patient; to-morrow it shall be mended. 
 And, for this night, we II fast for company : — 
 Come, I will bring thee to tiiy bii'lal chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt Petruchio, Katfiarina, andCurtis.) 
 Nath. (Advancing.) Pctei, didst ever see the 
 
 hke ? 
 Peter. He kills her in her own humour. 
 
 Re-enter Curtis. 
 
 Gru. W^here is he ? 
 
 Curt. In her chamber, 
 Making a sermon of continency to her: 
 And rails, and swears, and rates ; that she, poor son!. 
 Knows not which way to stand, to look, to spe.ik ; 
 And sits as one new- risen from a dream. 
 Away, away ! lor he is coining hither. [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Petruchio. 
 Pet. Thus have i loliticly begun my reign, 
 And "tis my hope to end successlully : 
 My fiicou now is sharp, and passing empty; 
 And, till she stoop, she must not be fult-gorg'd. 
 For then sue never looks upon herluio. 
 .\nother way 1 have to man my naggaid. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 221 
 
 To make her come, und know Iier keeper's call ; 
 
 That is, — to watch her as we watch these kites, 
 
 That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient 
 
 She ate no meat to day, nor none shall eat; 
 
 Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ; 
 
 As with the meat, some undeserved fault 
 
 I'll find about the making of the bed ; 
 
 And here III lling the pillow, there the bolster. 
 
 This way the coverlet, another way the sheets : — 
 
 Ay, and amid this huriy, I intend, 
 
 J'l'iat all is done in reverend care of her; 
 
 And, in conclusion, s-he shall watch all night : 
 
 And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl. 
 
 And with the c. amour keep her still awake. 
 
 i'liis is a way to kill a wife with kindness; 
 
 And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong 
 
 ha- 
 
 He, that knows better how to tame a shrew, 
 
 Now let him speak : tis charity to show. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Padua. Before Baptista's House. 
 
 Enter Tranio and Hortensio. 
 
 Tra. Is't possible, friend Lirio. that Bianca 
 Doth fancy any other but L;icenlio ? 
 i tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. 
 
 Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said. 
 Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. 
 
 {They stand aside.) 
 Enter Bianca and Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? 
 
 Bian. VVhat master, read you? first resolve me 
 that. 
 
 Luc. I read that I profess ; the art to love. 
 
 Bian. AnA may you prove, sir, muster o( your art ! 
 
 Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove luislress of 
 my heart. ( Thfy retire.) 
 
 Hor. Quick proceeders, marry ! Now, tell me, 
 ) pray, 
 You that durst swear tliat your rnistre-.s Bianca 
 Lov'd none in X\v world so wt-ll as Lucentio. 
 
 Tra. O despiteful love I unronsiaiit womankind ! — 
 I tell thee, Licio, tliis is wonderful. 
 
 Hor. Mistake no more ; I am nut Liiio, 
 Nor a uiusiciau, as I seem to be : 
 But oUf tiiat scorn to live in tliis dis;;uise, 
 Kor such a one as leiives a Henllenjan, 
 And makes a god of such a ciilii()ii : 
 K DOW, sir, that I am call'd— Hortensio. 
 
 Tra Signior Hortensio, I have olten heard 
 Ol' your entire atfectioa to Bianca; 
 And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, 
 [ will with you, — if you be so contented, — 
 Forswear Bianca and her love i'or ever. 
 
 Hor. See, how they kiss and court ! Signior 
 
 Lucentio, 
 Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow, 
 Never to woo her more ; but do forswear her. 
 As one unwortUy ail the liirmer favours. 
 That I have fon.lly flatterd her witlial. 
 
 Tra. And here I take the like unlcigned oath, — 
 Ne'er to marry witn her, tiioiigh she would entreat: 
 Py on her! see, liow beastly sue doth court him. 
 
 Hor. 'Would, all the world, but he, had quite for- 
 swoi n ! 
 For me, — that I may surely keep mine oath 
 I will be iiKirried to a wealtliy widow. 
 Ere three days pass; which hath as long lov'd me. 
 As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard : 
 And so farewell, signioi Lucentio. — 
 Kindniss m women, not tlieir beauteous looks, 
 Sliad win my love : — and so I take my leave, 
 111 resolution as i swore before. 
 
 Exit Hijrfensio. — Lucentio and Bianca advance. 
 Tra i\I. stress Bianca, bless you with such grace 
 \s 'longctn tu a lover's blessed case! 
 Nav. 1 liHve ta'en you napping, gentle love; 
 i\nd hive toisworn you, witli Hortensio. 
 
 /iiVoi. I'ranio, you jest : But have you both for- 
 sworn uie ■* 
 
 Tra. Mistress, we have. 
 
 Luc. Then we are rid of Lickv 
 
 Tra. I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now. 
 That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. 
 
 Bian. God give him joy! 
 
 Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her. 
 
 Bian. He says so, Tranio. 
 
 Tra. Faith, he is gone unto the taming school. 
 
 Bian. The taming-school ! what, is there such 
 a place i 
 
 Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master : 
 That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty Ion.;, — 
 To tame a shrew, and charm her chatteriDg tongue. 
 
 Enter Biondello, runnimj 
 
 Bion. O master, master, I have watch'd so long 
 That I'm dog-weary ; but at last I spied 
 An ancient angel coming down the hill. 
 Will serve the turn. 
 
 Tra. What is he, Biondello? 
 
 Bion. Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, 
 I know not what; but formal in apparel, 
 In gait and countenance surely like a ftther. 
 
 Luc. And what of him, Tranio i* 
 
 Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, 
 I'll make him glad to seem Vimentio; 
 And give assurance to Baptista Minola, 
 As if he were the right Vincentio. 
 Take iu your love, and then let me alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianco. 
 
 Enter a Pedant. 
 
 Ped. God save you, sir! 
 
 Tra. And you, sir! you are welcome. 
 
 Travel you far on, or are you at t.ie furthest? 
 
 Ped. Sir, at the furthest for a week or two : 
 But then up further; and as far as Kome ; 
 And so to 'I'ripoly, if God lend me life. 
 
 Tra. What countryman, I pray ? 
 
 Ped. OfManlua, 
 
 Tra. Of Mantua, sir? — marry, God iiirbid ! 
 An:| come to Padua, careless ol your lile ! 
 
 Ped. My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes 
 h id. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua 
 To come to Padua: Know you not tne cause? 
 Your ships are staid at Venice ; and the d.ike 
 (For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,) 
 litth publish'd and proclaim d it openly: 
 Tis marvel ; but tliat you're but newly come, 
 Y o'l might have heard it else proclaim'd about. 
 
 Ped. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so; 
 For 1 have bills for money by exchange 
 From Florence, and must here deliver them. 
 
 Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, 
 'I'liis will i do, and this will I advise you ; — 
 First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? 
 
 Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been; 
 Pisa, renowned for grave citizens. 
 
 Tra. Anumg them, know you one Vincentio? 
 
 Ped. 1 know him not, but I have heard of him ; 
 A merchant of incomparable wealth. 
 
 Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, 
 In countenance somewhat tloth resemble you. 
 
 Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, ana 
 all 'Uie. (Aside.) 
 
 Tra. To save your life in this extremity. 
 This favour will I do you for his sake; 
 And th;nk it not the wurjt of all your fortunes, 
 That you are like to sir Vincentio. 
 His name and credit shall you undertake. 
 And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd :— 
 Look, that you take upon you as you should ; 
 You understand me, sir; — so shall you stay 
 Till you have done your business in the city : 
 If this be courtesv, sir, acce. t of it. 
 
 Ped. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever 
 The patron of my life and liberty. 
 
 Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good 
 This, by tiie way, I let you understand ;~- 
 
222 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 My fiitlier is here loolv'd for every day, 
 To pHss assurance of a dower in marriage 
 Twixt me and one Baptism's daiigiiter here : 
 In all these circumstances I'll instruct yon : 
 Go witli me, sir, to clotiie you as becomes yon. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A room in Petruchio's House. 
 
 Enter Katiiarina and Grumio. 
 
 Gru. No, no, forsooth; I dare not, for my life. 
 
 Kat/i. The more my wrong, the more his spite 
 appears : 
 '\V"luit, did he marry me to famish me ^ 
 iefTgars, that come under my lather's door, 
 U |)on entreaty, have a present ahus; 
 i f not, elsewhere they meet with charity : 
 Hut 1, — who never knew how to entreat, — 
 Nor never needed that I shoulc' entreat, — 
 Aru starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep; 
 With oaths kept waking, and with braulitig fed : 
 And that wliich spites me more than all these wants, 
 He does it under name of perfect love ; 
 .As who should say, if I should sleep, or eat. 
 "Twere deadly sickness, or else present death. — 
 1 pr'ythee go, and get me some repast! 
 I care not what, so it be wholesome food. 
 
 Gru. Vtiat say you to a neat's foot? 
 
 Kal/i. 'Tis passing good ; I pr'ythee let me have it. 
 
 Gru. I fear, it is too choleric a meat : — 
 flow say you to a fat tripe , finely broiPd ? 
 
 Kath. 1 like it well ; good (irumio, fetch it me. 
 
 Gru. I cannot tell ; I fear, 'tis choleric. 
 What sav you to a piece of beef, and mustard ? 
 
 Kath. A dish, that I do love to feed upon. 
 
 (zrtt. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 
 
 KatA. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest. 
 
 Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the 
 mustard. 
 Or else yon get no beef of Gnimio. 
 
 Koth. Then both, or one, or any thing thon wilt. 
 
 Gru. Whv, then the mustard without the beef 
 
 Kath Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding 
 slave, i^Beats him.) 
 
 That fced'st me with the very name ot meat: 
 Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, 
 'I'hat triumph thus upon my misery! 
 Go, get thee gone, I say. 
 
 Enter I'etuuciiio ivith a dish of meat; and 
 
 HORTENSIO. 
 
 Pet. How fares my Kate ? What, sweeting, all 
 
 Hor. Mistress, what cheer ? [amort ? 
 
 Xath. 'Faith, as cold as can be. 
 
 Pet. Fluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me. 
 Here, love ; thou see'sthow diligent I am. 
 To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee : 
 
 {Sets the dish on a table.) 
 I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. 
 What, not a word ? Nay, then, thon lov'st it not ; 
 And all my pains is sorted to no proof:— 
 Here, take away this dish. , . , , 
 
 Kath. 'Pray yo". 'et 't stand. 
 
 Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks, 
 And so shall mine, before you touch the meat 
 
 Kath. I thank yon, sir. 
 
 Hor. Sinnior Petruchio, fy! you are to blame: 
 Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear yon company. 
 
 Ptt. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.— 
 
 {Aside.) 
 Much good do it unto thy gentle heart ! 
 Kate, eat apace ; — And now, my honey love, 
 Wdl we return unto thy fathers house; 
 And revel it as bravely as the best. 
 With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, 
 With ruft's, and cnHs, and farthingales, and things; 
 With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, 
 With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. 
 Wh.it, hast thou dined ? The tailor stays thy leisure. 
 To deck thy body with his rutlling trcdsure. 
 
 Enter Tailor. 
 Come, tailor, let us see these ornamenta , 
 
 Enter Haleninsher. 
 Lay forth the gowi:. — What news with you, sir? 
 
 Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. 
 
 Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer; 
 A velvet dish;— fy, fy! 'tis lewd and filthy; 
 Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut shell, 
 A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap; 
 Away with it; come, let me haie a bigger. 
 
 Kath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time. 
 And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 
 
 Pet. When you are gentle, you shall lia\e one loo 
 And tiut till then. 
 
 Hor. That will not be in haste. {Aside. 
 
 Kath. Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave t > 
 speak ; 
 And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe : 
 Your betters have endur'd me say my mind ; 
 And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. 
 iVly tongue will tell the anger of niy heart; 
 Or else my heart, concealing it, will break : 
 And, ratlier than it shall, I will be free. 
 Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 
 , Pet. Why, thou say'st true ; it is a paltry cap, 
 A custard-cnllin, a bauble, a silken pie : 
 I love thee well, in that thou hk'sl it not. 
 
 Kath. Lo\e me, or love me not, I like the cap, 
 And it 1 will have, or I will have none. 
 
 Pet. Thy gown ? why, ay ;— Come, tailor, let U8 
 see't. 
 
 mercy, God ! what masking stuff is here ? 
 Wiiat's'this? a sleeve':' 'tis like a demi-caiinon : 
 VV^liat ! up and down, carv'd like an apple tart ? 
 Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, 
 Jjike to a censer in a barber's shop : — 
 
 Wliy, what o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ? 
 
 Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor 
 gown. (Aside.) 
 
 Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well. 
 According to the iashion, and the time. 
 
 Pet. Alarry, and did; but if you he reinember'd, 
 
 1 did not bid you mar it to the time. 
 Go, hop me over every kenail home. 
 
 For you shall hop witliout my custom, sir: 
 I'll none of it ; hence, make your best of it. 
 
 Kath. I never saw a better-fashion'd gou n. 
 More quaint, more pleasing, nor more couimendable; 
 Belike, yon mean to make a puppet oi'me. 
 
 Pet. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet o/ 
 thee. 
 
 Tai. She says, your worship means to make a 
 puppet of her. 
 
 Pet. O monstrous arrogance! thon liest, thou 
 Thou thimble, (thread, 
 
 Thon yard, three quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, 
 Thon flea, thou nit thou winter cricket thon ;— 
 Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread . 
 Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; 
 Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard. 
 As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st ! 
 I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. 
 
 Tai. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made 
 Just as my master had direction : 
 Grumio gave order how it should be done. 
 
 Gru. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff. 
 
 Tai. But how did you desire it should be made .' 
 
 Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. 
 
 Tai. Bat did you not request to have it cut i 
 
 Gru. Thou hast faced many things. 
 
 Tai. I have. 
 
 Gru. Face not me : thou hast braved many men ; 
 brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved. 
 I say unto thee,— I bid thy master cut out the 
 gown ; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces : ergo, 
 
 thou liest. . ^ . r.i f l'^''''y- 
 
 Tai. Why, here is the note of the lasluon to 
 Pet. Read it. l^aid so. 
 
 Gru. The note lies in hia throat, »f he say 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREV7. 
 
 223 
 
 Tni. Imprimis, a loose-bodied goivn ; 
 
 dm. Master, if ever I said louse-bodied gown, 
 sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death 
 witli a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown. 
 
 Pet.. I'niceed. 
 
 Tai. With a small compassed cape ; 
 
 (int. I confess tlie cape. 
 
 Tni. With a trunk sleeve ; 
 
 Grii. I confess two sleeves. 
 
 7\/i. The sleeves curiously cut. 
 
 J'ft. Ay, there's the villainy. 
 
 Gru. Error i'the bill, sir; error i'tlie hill. I com- 
 man l^d (he sleeves should be cut out, and sewed up 
 again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy 
 little finger be armed in a thimble. 
 
 Tai. This is tiue, that I say ; an I had thee in 
 (>lare wlief, tliou shonld'st know it. 
 
 G?-u I am for thee straight : take thou the bill, 
 i;ive ine thy mete-yard, and spare not me. 
 
 Hor. God a-mercy, Grumio ! then he shall have 
 no odds. 
 
 Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the, gown is not for me. 
 
 Gru. Von are i"tlie right, sir; 'tis for my mistress. 
 
 Pet. Go. take it up nnto thy master's use. 
 
 Gru. Villain, not for thy life : take up my mis- 
 tress' gown for thy master's use ! 
 
 Pet. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? 
 
 Gru. O, ST, the conceit is deeper than you think 
 • fur : 
 Fake up my mistress' gown to his master's use ! 
 O, fy, fy! 
 
 Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor 
 paid : — [Aside.) 
 Go fake it hence ; begone, and say no more. 
 
 Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow. 
 Take no unkindness of his hasty words: 
 Away, I say ; commend me to tl'.v master. 
 
 [Exit Tailor. 
 
 Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your 
 father's. 
 Even in these honest mean habiliments ; 
 Our pnrses shall be proud, our garments poor: 
 For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich : 
 And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds. 
 So honour peereth in the meanest habit. 
 What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 
 Because his feathers are more beautiful '! 
 Or is the adder better than the eel, 
 Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 
 O, no, good Kate : neither art thou the worse 
 For this poor furniture, and mean array. 
 If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me : 
 And therefore, frolic ; wc will hence forthwith. 
 To feast and sport us at thy father's house. — 
 Go, call my men, and let us straight to him ; 
 And bring our horses unto Long-laue end. 
 There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. — 
 Let's see ; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock, 
 And well we may come there by dinnertime. 
 
 Kath. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; 
 And "twill be supper-time, ere you come there. 
 
 Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horai • 
 Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do. 
 You are still crossing it. — Sirs, let's alone : 
 I will not go today ; and ere I do, 
 It shall be what o'clock I say it is. 
 
 Hor. Why, so! this gallant will command the 
 sun. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 1 V. — Padua. Before Baptista's House. 
 
 Enter Tr.\nio, and the Pedant dressed like 
 
 ViNCENTlO. 
 
 Tra. Sir, this is the house ; Please it you, that 
 I call ? 
 
 Ped. Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived, 
 Signior Baptista may remember me. 
 Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where 
 We were lodgers at the Pegasus. 
 
 Tra. 'Tis well ; 
 
 And hold your own, in any case, with Fr.ch 
 Austerity as 'longetli to a father. 
 
 Enter Biondello. 
 
 Ped. I warrant you: but, sir, here comes your boy, 
 'Twere good, he were school'd. 
 
 Tra. Fear you not him. — .Sirrah, Biondello, 
 Now do y(uir duty throughly, 1 advise yon; 
 Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. 
 
 Bion. Tut I fear not me. 
 
 Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? 
 
 Bion. 1 told him, that your lather was at Venice; 
 And that yon look'd for him this day in Padua. 
 
 Tra. I'liDu'rt a tall fellow ; hold thee, that to drink. 
 Mere comes Baptista: —set your countenance, sir. 
 
 Enter Baptista and Lucentio. 
 
 Signior Baptista, you are happily met: — 
 
 Sir, [To the Pedant.) 
 
 This is the gentleman I told you of; 
 
 I pray yon. stand good father to me now, 
 
 Gi\ e me Bianca for my patrimony. 
 
 Ped. Soft, son !— 
 Sir, by your leave ; having come to Padua 
 To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio 
 Made me acquainted with a weighty cause 
 Of lo\e between your daughter and himself. 
 And. — for the good report I hear of you ; 
 And for the love he beareth to your daughter. 
 And she to him, — to stay him not too long, 
 1 am content, in a good father's care, 
 To have him match'd : and, — if you pleas'd to like 
 No worse than I, sir, — upon some agreement. 
 Me shall you find most ready and nsost willing 
 With one consent to have her so bestowed ; 
 For curious I cannot be with you, 
 Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so ^vell. 
 
 Bap. Sir, pardon me in what 1 have to say ; — 
 Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well. 
 Right true it is, your son Lucentio here 
 Doth love my daughter, and she lo\etli him. 
 Or both dissemble deeply their alfeetions: 
 And therefore, if you say no more than this. 
 That like a lather you will deal with him. 
 And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, 
 The match is fully made, and all is done : 
 Your son shall have my daughter with consent. 
 
 Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know 
 We be allied ; and such assurance ta'en, [best. 
 
 As shall with either part's agreement stand? 
 
 Bap. Not in my bouse, Lucentio; for you know. 
 Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants : 
 Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still ; 
 And, happily, we might be interrupted. 
 
 Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir: 
 There doth my father lie ; and there, this night. 
 We'll pass the business privately and well: 
 Send for your daughter by your servant here. 
 My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. 
 The worst is this, — that, at so slender warning. 
 You're like to have a thin and slender pittance. 
 
 Bap. It likes me well : — Cambio, hie you home. 
 And bid Bianca make her ready straight ; 
 And, if you will, tell what hath happened: — 
 Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua, 
 And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. 
 
 Luc. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart. 
 
 Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee ,^one, 
 Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way ? 
 Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer : 
 Come, sir ; we'll better it in Pisa. 
 
 Bap. I follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista. 
 
 Bion. Cambio. — 
 
 Luc. What say'st thou, Biond»'l!o ? 
 
 Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh upon 
 
 Luc. Biondello, what of that? [you? 
 
 Bion. 'Faith, nothing; but he has left me here 
 behind, to expound the meaning or moral of hit 
 8ig.')s and tokens. 
 
224 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREVY. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Lutt. I pray tliee, moralize tliem. 
 
 nion Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with 
 the deo' ivin^ tatlier of a deceitful son. 
 
 hue. And what of him? 
 
 Bi'-tn. His dauj^hter is to be brought by you to 
 
 Auc. And then? — [tlie supper. 
 
 liion I'he old priest at Saint Luke's churcli is at 
 your command at all hours. 
 
 hiic. And what ot all this? 
 
 Bion. I cannot tell; except they are busied about 
 a counterfeit assurance : take you assurance of 
 her, cum ■privile.fjio ad imprimtndiim solum : to the 
 church ; — take tlie priest, clerk, and some sufficient 
 honest witnesses : [say, 
 
 If this be n.it that yon look for, I have no more to 
 But, bid nianca farewell fur ever and a d?y. (Going.) 
 
 Luc. Hear'st thou, Biiindello? 
 
 Bion. i cannot tarry : I knew a wench married in 
 an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley 
 to stuir a rabbit ; and so may you, sir ; and so adieu, 
 sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint 
 Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come, against 
 you come with your appendix. [Exit. 
 
 Luc. I may, and wdl, if she be so contented : 
 She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should 1 doubt ? 
 Hap wliat hap may, I II roundly go about her ; 
 It shall gi) hard, if Cambio go without her. [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — A public Road. 
 
 Enter Petruchio, Katharina, and Hortensio. 
 
 Pet. Come on, o'God's name ; once more toward 
 
 our fatlier's. [moon ! 
 
 Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the 
 
 Kalh. The moon ! the suu ; it is not moonlight now. 
 
 Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so bright. 
 
 Kath. I kno%v, it is the sun that shines so bright. 
 
 Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself. 
 It shall be moon, or star, or what I list. 
 Or ere 1 journey to your father's house ; — 
 Go on, and ietch our horses back again. — 
 Evermore cross'd, and cross'd, nothing but cross'd! 
 
 Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go. 
 
 Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come so 
 And he it moon, or sun, or what you please : [far, 
 .And if vou please to call it a rush candle, 
 Ht-ncetorth I vow it shall be so lor me. 
 
 Pet. i say, it is the moon. 
 
 Kath. I know it is. 
 
 Pet. Nay, then yon lie ; it is the blessed sun. 
 
 Kath.'Vhen God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: — 
 But sun it is not, when you say it is not ; 
 And the moon changes, even as your mind. 
 VVHiat you will have it nam'd, even that it is ; 
 And so it shall be so, for Katlianne. 
 
 Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways ; the field is won. 
 
 Pet. Well, (orward, forward : thus the bowl 
 should run. 
 And not unluckily against the bias. — 
 But soft ; what company is coming here ? 
 
 Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress. 
 
 Good morrow, gentle mistress : where away? — 
 
 {To Vincentio.) 
 Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
 Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ? 
 Such war of white and red withi.i her cheeks ! 
 Wliat stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, 
 As those two eyes become that heavenly face ? — 
 Fair lovely maid, once more good-day to thee : — 
 Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty '.s sake. 
 
 Hor. 'A will make the man mad, to make a 
 vvoinan of him. 
 
 Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and 
 sweet. 
 Whither away ; or where is thy abode ? 
 Happy the parents of so fair a child ; 
 Happier the man, whom favourable stars 
 Allot tiiee for his lovely bed fellow ! 
 Pet. Wiiy, how now, Kate ! I hope thon art not 
 toad: 
 
 Tiiis is a man, old, wnnkled, faded, wither'J; 
 Anil not a maiden, as tliou say'st he is. 
 
 Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes. 
 That hare been so bedazzled witti the sun, 
 'I'hat every thing I look on seemeth green : 
 Now I perceive, tiiou art a reverend lather 
 Pardon, 1 pray thee, for my niad mistaking. 
 
 Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and withal, make 
 known 
 Which way thou travellest: if along with us. 
 We shall be joyful of thy company. 
 
 Vin. Fair sir, — and you my merry mistress, 
 That with your strange encounter much aniaz'd 
 me. — (Pisa: 
 
 My name is call'd — Vincentio; my dwelling — 
 And bound I am to Padua ; there to visit 
 A son of mine, which long I have not seen. 
 
 Pet. What is his name ? 
 
 Vin. Lncentio, gentle sir. 
 
 Pet. Happily met ; the happier for thy son. 
 And now by law, as well as reverend age, 
 1 may entitle thee — my loving father; 
 The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman. 
 Thy son by this hath married : Wonder not. 
 Nor be not griev'd ; she is of good esteem. 
 Her dowry wealthy, aud of worthy birth; 
 B(-side, so qualilied as may beseem 
 'J'he spouse of any noble gentleman. 
 Let me embrace with old Vincentio: 
 And wander we to see thy honest son. 
 Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. 
 
 Vin. But is this true? or is it else your pleasure, 
 Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest 
 Upon the company you overtake ^ 
 
 Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is. 
 
 Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; 
 For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. 
 
 [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Vincentio. 
 
 Hor. Well, Petruchio, this hath put nie m heart. 
 Have to my widow; and if she be forward. 
 Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Padua. Before Lucentio's House. 
 
 Enter, on one side, Biondello. Lucentio, and 
 BiANCA : Gremio walking on the other side. 
 
 Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is 
 ready. 
 
 Luc. I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to 
 need thee at home, therefore leave ns. 
 
 Bion. Nay, faith, I'll see tlie church o'yoiir back ; 
 
 and then come back to my master as soon as 1 can. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca, and Biondello. 
 
 Ore. [ marvel, Cambio comes not all tins while. 
 
 Enter Petruchjo, Katharina, Vincentio, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Pet. Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house. 
 My father's bears more toward the market place ; 
 Tiiither must I, and here I leave you, sir. 
 
 Vin. You shall not choose but drink before 
 you go; 
 I think, 1 shall command your welcome here, 
 And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. 
 
 [Knoclcn.) 
 
 Gre. They're busy within, you were best knock 
 louder. 
 
 Enter Pedant above, at a window. 
 
 Ped. What's he, that knocks as he would beat 
 down the gate ? 
 
 Vin. Is signior Lucentio within, sir? 
 
 Ped. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken 
 withal. 
 
 Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound 
 or two, to make merry withal ? 
 
 Ped. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he 
 shall need none, so long as 1 live. 
 
SCENK 1. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 225 
 
 Pet. Nay, I told yoii, your son was beloved in 
 Padiia.— Uo yon hear, sir?— to leave frivolous 
 circumstances,— I pray you, tell si^nior Lucentio, 
 (hat his father is come from Pisa, and is here at the 
 door to s|ieak with him. 
 
 Fed. Thou liest ; iiis father is come from Pisa, 
 and here looking out at tiie window. 
 
 l'«/i. Art thou his fither? 
 
 Pefl. Ay, sir ; so his mother says, if I may be- 
 lif »e her. 
 
 Pel. Why, how now, gentleman! {To Vincen.) 
 why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another 
 man's name. 
 
 Ped, Lay hands on the villain; I believe, 'a 
 means to cozen somebody in this city under my 
 conntenance. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 
 Bion. I have seen them in the cliurch tojtetnPT* 
 God send 'eui good shippiriifl — But who is here? 
 jiiine old master, Vinceutio ? now we are undone, 
 and brought to nothing. 
 
 Yin. Come hither, crack-hemp. 
 
 _ [Seeing Biondello.) 
 
 Bion. I hope, I may choose, sir. 
 
 Viji. Come hither, you rogue : What, have yon 
 forgot me ^ 
 
 Bivii. Forgot you ? no, sir : I could not forget 
 you, for I never saw you before in all my life. 
 
 Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou 
 never see thy master's father. Vincentio? 
 
 Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master? yes, 
 marry, sir; see where he looks out of the window. 
 
 Vin. Is't so, indeed ? {Beats Biondello.) 
 
 Bion. Help, help, help! here's a madman will 
 juurder me. [Exit. 
 
 Ped. Help, son ! help, signior Baplista ! 
 
 [Exit front the ivindoiv.) 
 
 Pet. Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see 
 the end of this controversy, {They retire.) 
 
 Re-enter Pedant below ; Bafhsta, Tranio, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Tra. Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my 
 servant i 
 
 Yin. What am I, sir? nay, what are you, sir? — 
 O inimortal gods ! O fine villain ! A silken doublet ! 
 a velvet hose ! a scarlet cloak ! and a copatain hat ! 
 — O, I am undone ! I am undone ! while I play the 
 «food husband at home, my son and my seiyant 
 spend all at the university. 
 
 Tra. How now ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Bap. What, is the man lunatic ? 
 
 Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by 
 your habit, but your words show you a madman : 
 Why, sir, what concerns it you, if 1 wear pearl and 
 gold ? I thank my good father, I am able to main- 
 tain it. 
 
 Fin. Thy father ? O, villain ! he is a sail-maker 
 in Bergamo. 
 
 Bap. You mistake, sir ; you mistake, sir : Prav, 
 what do you think is his name ? 
 
 Yin, His name? as if I knew not his narrit^: [ 
 have brought him up ever since he was three yeais 
 old, and his name is — Tranio. 
 
 Ped. Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucen- 
 tio ; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of 
 rae, sigoior Vmcentio. 
 
 Vin. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his mas- 
 ter! — Lay liold on him, I charge ;oj, in the duke's 
 name : — O, my son, my son ! — tell me, thou villain, 
 where is my son Lucentio? 
 
 Tra. Call forth an olBcer: {Ejtter one'with an 
 Officer) carry this mad knave to the gaol : — Father 
 Baptista, I charge you see, that he be forthcoming. 
 
 Yin. Carry me to the gaol ! 
 
 V.re. St^iy, officer; he shall not goto prison. 
 
 Bap. YAV. not, signior Gremio; 1 say, he shall 
 go to prison. 
 
 Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be 
 
 eoney-catched in this bu.siness ; I dare swear, this 
 
 is the right Vincentio. 
 
 Ped. Swear, if thou darest. 
 Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it. [Lucentio 
 
 Tra. Then thou wert best say, that I am not 
 Gre. Yes, 1 know thee to be signior Lucentio. 
 Bap. Away with the dotard ; to the gaol with hira. 
 Yin. Thus strangers may be haled and abus'd :— 
 
 O monstrous villain ! 
 
 Re-enter Biondello, tvith Lucentio, and Bianca. 
 
 Bion. O, we are sjpoiled, and — Yonder he is ; 
 deny him, forswear him, or else we ar all undone. 
 
 Luc. Pardon, sweet father. (Kneeling.) 
 
 Yi?i. Lives my sweetest son'? 
 
 {Biondello, Tratiio, and Pedant, run out.. 
 
 Bian. Pardon, dear father. {Kneelina.) 
 
 Rap. How hast thou olfended '{ 
 
 Where is Lucentio? 
 
 Luc. Here's Lucentio, 
 
 Right son unto the right Vincentio; 
 That have by marriage made thy daughter mine. 
 While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne. 
 
 Gre. Here's packing, with a witness, to decftive 
 us all ! 
 
 Yin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio, 
 That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so? 
 
 Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? 
 
 Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio. 
 
 Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love 
 JVIade me exchange my state with Tranio, 
 While he did bear my countenance in the town; 
 And happily I have arriv'd at last 
 Unto the wished haven of my bliss: — 
 What Tranio did, myself enforc'd hira to; 
 Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. 
 
 Yin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have 
 sent me to the gaol. 
 
 Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To Lttcentio.) Have 
 you married my daughter witliout asking my good- 
 will ? [lio to : 
 
 Yin. Fear not, Baptista ; we will content you. 
 But I will in to be revenged for this villainy. [Exit. 
 
 Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this kna\erv. 
 
 lEx?t. 
 
 Luc. Look not pale, Binnca ; thy father will not 
 frown. [Exeunt Luc. and Bian. 
 
 Gre. My cake is dough : But I'll in among the rt-st ; 
 Out of hope of all, — but my share of the feast. [Exit. 
 
 Petruchio and Kathauina advance. 
 
 Kath. Husband, let's follow, to .see the ena of 
 this ado. 
 
 Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 
 
 Kath. What, in the midst of the street? 
 
 Pet. What, art thou ashairied of me ? 
 
 Kath. No, sir; God forbid:^ — but ashamed to Liss. 
 
 Pet. Why, then let's home again : — Come, sir- 
 rah, let's away. 
 
 Kath. Nay, I will gi\e thee a kiss : now pray 
 thee, love, stay. 
 
 Pet. Is not this well i — Come, my sweet Kate ; 
 Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Lucentio's House. 
 
 A Banquet set out. Enter Baptista, Vincentio, 
 Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Pe- 
 truchio, Katiiarina., Hortensio, and Widow. 
 Tranio, Biondello, Grumio, and others at- 
 tending. 
 
 Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree : 
 And time it is, when raging war is done. 
 To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. — 
 My fair Bianca, bid my lather welcome. 
 While I with sell-same kindness welcome thine:— 
 Brother Petruchio, — sister Katharina, — 
 And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, — 
 Feast with the best, anil welcome to toy house , 
 My binqiiet is to t-lose our stomachs up. 
 Alter our great good cheer : Pray you, sit down ; 
 
 15 
 
226 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 For now we sit to chat, as well as eat. 
 
 [They sit at table.) 
 Pet Nothing but sit antl sit, and eat am) eat ! 
 Bap. Padi:a adonis tiiis kiiiiliiess, son Fetriichio. 
 I*et. Pailna atl'ords notiiing but what is kind. 
 Hor. For both our sakes, I would that word were 
 true. 
 
 Pet. Now, for my life, Hovtensio fears his widow. 
 Wid. 'I'hen never (rust me, it I be ateard. 
 Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my sense ; 
 1 mean, Hortensio is afeardofyou. 
 fVid. He, that is Riddy, thinks the world turns 
 Pel. Roundly replied. (round. 
 
 Knth. Mistress, how mean you that? 
 
 Wid. Thus I conceive by him. f that ? 
 
 Ptt. Conceives by me!— How likes Hortensio 
 Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. 
 Pet, Very well mended: Kiss him for that, good 
 
 widow. [round : 
 
 Knth. He, that is giddy, thinks the world turns 
 I I'ray you, tell me what you meant by that. 
 
 TVid. Vour iHisbund, being troubled with a shrew, 
 .Measures my iiusband's sorrow by his woe : 
 And niiw you know my meaning. 
 Knth. A very mean meaning. 
 Wid. Right, 1 mean you. 
 
 Kat. And f am mean, indeed, respecting you. 
 Pet. To her, Kate ! 
 Hor. To her, widow ! 
 
 Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her 
 Hor. Thafs my office. [down. 
 
 Pet. Spoke like an officer:— Ha' to thee, lad. 
 
 {Drinks to Hortensio.) 
 Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? 
 Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. 
 Biaii. Head, and butt? an hasty- witted body 
 VVoiikl say, your head and butt were head and horn. 
 Vin. A V, mistress bride, hath that aw aken'd you ? 
 Biaii. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll 
 sleep again. [begun. 
 
 Pet. N.iy, that you shall not; since you have 
 Have at yuu for a bitter jest or two. 
 
 Biaii. .\(ii I your bird ? I mean to .shift my bush, 
 And tiieii pursue me as you draw your bow : — 
 Yoa are weh ome all. 
 
 [Exeunt Bianca, Katharina fnd Widow. 
 Pet. She hath prevented me.— Here, signior 
 Tranio, 
 This bird you aim'd at, thougli you hit her not ; 
 Therefore, a health to all, that shot and niiss'd. 
 Tra. U, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his grey- 
 hound. 
 Which runs iiirnself, and catches for his master. 
 Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish. 
 Tra. 'Tis well, sir. that you hunted for yourself; 
 Tis tliougiit, your deer do>-s hold you at a bay. 
 Bap. O ho, t'etruchio, Tranio hits you now. 
 Luc. I thank, thee for that gird, good Tranio, 
 Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here ? 
 Pet. 'A lias a little gall'd me, I confess ; 
 And as the jest did glance away from me, 
 'Tis ten to one it maiui'd you two outright. 
 
 Bap. Now, in j;ood sadness, son Petruchio, 
 I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 
 Pet. Well, I say— no: and therefore, for as- 
 surance. 
 Let's each one send unto his wife; 
 And he, whose wife is most obedient 
 To come at first, when he doth send for her. 
 Shall win the wager, which we will propose. 
 
 Hor. Content: what is the wager ? 
 
 hue. Twenty crowns. 
 
 Pet. Twenty crowns ! 
 I'll venture so 'much on my hawk, or hound. 
 But twenty times so much upon my wife. 
 hue. .\ hundred, iheo. 
 Hor. Content. 
 
 Pet. A match ; 'tis done. 
 
 Hor. Who shall begin ? 
 Luc. That will I. — Go, 
 
 Biondello, bid your mistress coroe to me. 
 Bion. I go [Exit 
 
 Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianra comes 
 hue. I'll have no halves : I'll bear it all myself. 
 
 Re-enter Biondello. 
 How now I what news ? 
 
 Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word 
 
 That she is busy, and she cannot come. 
 
 Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot coroe ! 
 Is that an answer ?« 
 
 Gre. Ay, and a kind one too : 
 
 Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 
 
 Pet. I hope, better. 
 
 Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife 
 To come to me fonhwith. [Exit Biondello. 
 
 Pet. O, ho! entreat her! 
 
 Nay, then she must needs come. 
 
 Hor. I am afraid, sir, 
 
 t><» wiiat yoa can, yours will not be entreated. 
 
 Re enter Biondello. 
 
 Now, where's my wife ? [hand ; 
 
 Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest iu 
 She will not come : she bids you come to her. 
 
 Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ! O 
 Intolerable, not to be endur'd ! (vile. 
 
 Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; 
 Say, command her come to me, [Exit Grumio. 
 
 Hor. I know her answer. 
 
 Pet. What? 
 
 Hor. She will not come. 
 
 Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. 
 
 Enter Katharina. 
 
 Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katha- 
 rina ! [me ? 
 
 Kat/i. What is your will, sir, that you send for 
 
 Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio"? wife? 
 
 Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. 
 
 Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to 
 come. 
 Swinge me them soundly forth unto their h isbands; 
 Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 
 
 [Exit Katharina. 
 
 hue. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. 
 
 Hor. And so it is ; I wonder what it bodes. 
 
 Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and loie, and quiet 
 An awful role, and right supremacy ; [life. 
 
 And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy. 
 
 Bap. Now fair belal thee, good Petruchio ' 
 The wager thou hast won, and I will add 
 Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ; 
 Another dowry to another daughter. 
 For she is chang'd as she had never been. 
 
 Pet. Nay, 1 will win my wager better yet; 
 And show more sign of her obedience. 
 Her new-built virtue and obedience. 
 
 Re-enter Katharina, with Bianca and Widow 
 See, where she comes: and brings your froward 
 
 wives 
 As prisoners to her womanly persnasion. — 
 Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not; 
 Ort with that bauble, throw it under foot. 
 Katharina pulls off' her cap, and t/trows it down. 
 
 Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh. 
 Till I be brought to such a sifly pass! 
 
 Bian. Fy ! what a foolish duty call you this? 
 
 hue. I would your duty were as foolish too: 
 The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 
 Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper time 
 
 Bian. The more fool you, for laying oa my duty. 
 
 Pet. Katharine, 1 charge thee, tell these liead 
 strong women, , , > , 
 
 What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. 
 
 Wid. Come, come, yon're moekinu; we v.ill have 
 no telhng. . 
 
 Pet. Come on, I say ; and first begin with her. 
 
 ff id. She shall not 
 
 Pet. I say, she shall ; — and first begin with her. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 227 
 
 Kath. Fy, fy! tinknit that threat uing nnkind 
 brow; 
 And dart nut scornful glances fioin those eyes. 
 To woiind thy lord, thy king, thy governor: 
 It blots ihy hfiiiity, as frosts bite the nioads ; 
 Confounds' (liv fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds ; 
 And in no st-nse is meet, or amiable. 
 A woman mov'd. is like a tbmitain troubled, 
 Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
 And, while it is so, n<uie so dry or thirsty 
 Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 
 Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
 Thv head, thy sovereign; one that cnres for thee 
 And for thy maintenance: commits his body 
 'I'o painful I.Tbour, both by sea and land ; 
 To watch the night ii> storms, the day in cold, 
 While tiiou liest warm at home, secure and safe; 
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands. 
 But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; — 
 Too little paynunt for so great a debt. 
 Such duty as the sub|ect owes the iiriuce. 
 Even such, a woman oweth to her liushand : 
 And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour. 
 And not obedient to his honest will. 
 What is she, but a foid contending rebel. 
 And graceless traitor to her loxing lord? — 
 1 am ashaui'd that women are so simple 
 To ort'er war, where they should kneel for peace; 
 Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway. 
 Where they are hound to serve, love, and obey. 
 Why are our bodies soft, and weak, aud smooth, 
 
 Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ; 
 But that our soft conditions, and our hearts, 
 Should well agree with our external parts ? 
 Come, come, you froward ami unable worms! 
 I My mind hath been as big as one of yours, 
 ! My heart as great; my reason, haply, more. 
 To baudy word for word, and frown for frown: 
 But now, I see, oiu' lances are but straws ; 
 Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,— 
 i That seeming to be most, which we least are. 
 i Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot; 
 I And place your hands below your husband's foot: 
 j In token o( which duty, if he please, 
 I My hand is ready, may it do him ease. 
 
 Pet. Why, there's a wench I — Come on, and kiss 
 
 me, Kate. (ha't. 
 
 Ltic. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou shall 
 
 Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are 
 
 toward. 
 Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are fro- 
 ward. 
 
 Pel. Come, Kate, we'll to bed : 
 
 We three are married, but you two are sped. 
 'Twas 1 won the wager, though you hit the white ! 
 
 |7'o Liiceittio. 
 And, being a winner, God give you good night! 
 
 [Exeunt Pelruchio aud l\alh. 
 Hor Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst 
 
 shrew. 
 hue. 'i'is a wonder, by your leave, she «'ill be 
 irna'd eo. [Exeunt. 
 
WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Thin pl»y, as Dr. Warburton justly observes, is, witb all its absurdities, very enlertainins. The charaelGf of 
 Autulyous in naturally conceived, and strongly represented. Jo/mton. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 
 Ulan Lords. 
 
 LRONTES, King of Sicilia. 
 
 MMVIILLIUS, his Son. 
 
 CAMILLO. 
 
 ANTIGONUS, 
 
 CLEOMENES, 
 
 DION, 
 
 Another Sicilian Lord. 
 
 KOGERO, a Sicilian Gentleman. 
 
 An Atlenrlanl on the yuttug Frince Mamillius. 
 
 Offlcers of a Court of Judicatvre. 
 
 POLIXENES, Ki>ig of Bohemia. 
 
 FLORIZEL, his Sun. 
 
 ARCHIDAMUS, a Bohemian Lord. 
 
 A Mariner. 
 
 Gaoler. „ . , „ ,.. 
 
 An old Shepherd, reputed Father of Perdila. 
 
 Clown, Ais Son. 
 
 Servant to the old Shepherd. 
 
 AUTOLYCUS, a Rogue. 
 
 Time, as Chorus. 
 
 HEKMIONE. Queen to Leontes. 
 
 PERDITA, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione 
 
 PAULINA, Wife to Antigonus 
 
 EMILIA, a Lady, i attending the Queen. 
 Two other Ladies, ( -^ 
 
 MOPSA,— HOliCAS.— Shepherdesses. 
 Lords, Ladies, and Allendaiils ; Satyrs for a Dunce, 
 Shepherds, Shepherdtsses, Guards, etc. 
 
 Scene, — Sometimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia. 
 
 Scene I. — Sicilia. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 An Antechamber in Leontes' 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Camillo and Archioamus. 
 
 Arch. If yon shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bo- 
 hemia on the like occasion, wherein my services are 
 now on foot, yon shall see, as I have said, great dif- 
 ference betwixt oui* Bohemia, and your Sicilia. 
 
 Cam. I think, this coming summer, the king of 
 Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he 
 justly owes him. 
 
 Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us, 
 we will be justified in our loves: for, indeed, — 
 
 ^ Cam. 'Beseech you, 
 
 Arch. Verily, 1 speak it in the freedom of tny 
 knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence — 
 
 in so rare — I know not what to say VVe will 
 
 give you sleepy drinks; that your senses, unintel- 
 ligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot 
 praise us, as little accuse us. [given freely. 
 
 Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for what's 
 Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding 
 instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utter- 
 ance. 
 
 Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over kind to 
 Bohemia. They were trained together in their 
 childhoods ; and there rooted betwixt them then 
 such an affection, which cannot choose but branch 
 now. Since their more mature dignities, and royal 
 necessities, made separation of their society, their 
 encounters, though not personal, have been royally 
 attornied, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving 
 embassies; that they have seemed to be together, 
 though absent ; shook hands, as over a vast ; and 
 embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed 
 winds. The heavens continue their loves! 
 
 Arch. I think, there is not in the world either 
 malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an un- 
 speakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius; 
 it is a sentlenian of the greatest promise, that ever 
 came into my note. 
 
 Cam. I vei-y well agree with you in the hopes 
 of him : It is a gallant child : one that, indeed, 
 physics the subject, makes ola hearts fresh : they, 
 that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet 
 their life, to see him a man. 
 
 Arch. Would they else be content to die ? 
 Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why 
 they should desire to live. 
 
 Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire 
 to live on crutches, till he had one. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 -The same. A Room of state in the 
 Palace, 
 
 Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, M.\mil- 
 Lius, CajuIiLo and Attendants. 
 
 Pol. Nine changes of tlie wat'ry star have be*n' 
 The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne 
 Without a burden : time as long ag;iin 
 Would be fill'd up, my brother, with onr thanks; 
 And yet we should, for perpetuity, 
 Go hence in dtbt. And therefore, like a cipher. 
 Yet standing in rich place, 1 multiply. 
 With one we-thank-you, many thousands more. 
 That go before it. 
 
 Leon. Stay your thanks awhile ; 
 
 And i)ay them, when you part. 
 
 Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow. 
 
 I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance. 
 Or breed upon our absence : That may blow 
 No sneaping winds at home, to make us say. 
 This is put forth too truly! Besides, I have stay'd 
 To tire your royalty. 
 
 Leon. VVe are tougher, brother, 
 
 Th'in you can put us to't. 
 
 Pol. No longer slay. 
 
 Leon. One seven-night longer. 
 
 Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow. 
 
 Leon. We'll part the time between's then : and 
 I'll no gain-saying. [in that 
 
 Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so ; 
 
 There is no tongne, that moves, none, none i'tbe 
 
 world. 
 So soon as yours, could win me : so it should now. 
 Were there necessity in your request, although 
 'Twere needful 1 denied it. My aft"airs 
 Do even drag me homeward : which to hinder 
 Were, in your love, a whip to me ; my stay 
 To you a charge and trouble : to save both, 
 Farewell, our brother. 
 
 Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak yon 
 
 Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace 
 until (sir 
 
 You had drawn oalhs from him, not to stay. You 
 Charge him loo coldly : Tell hira, you are sure. 
 All in Bohemia's well : this satisfaction 
 The by-gone day proclaim'd ; say this to him. 
 He's beat from his best ward. 
 
 Jjeon. Well said, HeruuoDP 
 
 Her. To tell he longs to see his son, were strong: 
 But let him say so then, and let him go ; 
 But let him swear so, and he shall not stay. 
 We'll thwack him hence with distafls. — 
 Yet of your royal presence Llo Polixenes) I'll ad- 
 venture 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 229 
 
 The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
 V'ou take my lord, I'll give him my commission, 
 'i'l) |pt iiini there a mouth, behind the gest 
 I'relix'd ibr's parting: yet, jjood deed, Leontes, 
 I love thee not a jar o'the dock behind 
 \V"h;it lady She her lord. — You'll stay ? 
 Pol. No, madam. 
 
 Her. Nay, but you will ? 
 Pol. I may not, verily. 
 
 Her. Verily ! 
 Von put me otif with limber vows : Bat I, 
 'I'huii^rh you would seek to unsphere the stars with 
 .Siioiild yet say. Sir, no goinrj. Verily, [oaths, 
 
 Villi shall not go; a lady's verily is 
 As potent as a lord's. W^ill you go yet? 
 Force nie to keep you as a prisoner. 
 Not like a guest ; so you shall pay your fees, 
 VViien you depart, and save your thanks. How 
 
 say you ';* 
 My prisoner'? or my guest? by your dread verily, 
 O.ie <pf them you shall be. 
 
 Pol. Your guest then, madam : 
 
 To be your prisoner, should import oft'ending ; 
 Which is for me less easy to commit, 
 Tiinn you to punish. 
 
 Her. Not your gaoler then. 
 
 But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you 
 Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were 
 \ oil were pretty lordlings then. [boys ; 
 
 Pol. We were, fair queen. 
 
 Two lads, that thought there was no more behind. 
 But such a day to-morrow as to- day, 
 Au'l to be boy eternal. 
 
 Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o'the two ? 
 Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk 
 i'tbe sun. 
 And bleat the one at the other : What we chang'd, 
 W^is innocence for innocence ; we knew not 
 The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor i^reani'd 
 I'hat any did : Had we pursued that life, 
 .And our weak spirits neer been higher rear'd 
 With stronger blood, we should have answer'd 
 
 heaven 
 Boldly, Not Guilty ; the imposition clear'd, 
 Hereditary ours. 
 
 Her. By this we gather, 
 
 Vou have tripp'd since. 
 
 Pol. O my most sacred lady. 
 
 Temptations have since then been born to us ; for 
 In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl ; 
 Your precious self had not then cross'd the eyes 
 Of my young play-fellow. 
 
 Her. Grace to boot I 
 
 Of this make no conclusion ; lest you say. 
 Your q^ieen and I are devils : Yet, go on; 
 The offences we have made you do, we'll answer; 
 If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us 
 You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not 
 With any but with us. 
 Leon. Is he won yet? 
 
 Her. He'll stay, my lord. 
 
 heon. At my request, he would not. 
 
 Hermi(me, my dearest, thou never spok'st 
 To better purpose. 
 Her. Never? 
 
 Leon. Never, but once. 
 
 Her. What? have I twice said well ? when was't 
 before ? 
 I pr'ythee, tell me : Cram us with praise, and 
 make us [less. 
 
 As fat as tame things : One good deed, dying tongue- 
 Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. 
 Our praises are our wages : You may ride us. 
 With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere 
 With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal ; — 
 My last good was, to entreat liis stay ; 
 What was ray first? it has an elder sister. 
 Or I mistake you : O, would h**'' name were Grace ! 
 But once before I spoke to the purpose : When? 
 Nay, let me hav't; 1 lon^. 
 
 Leon. Why, that was, when 
 
 Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to 
 
 death. 
 Ere I could make thee open thy white hand. 
 And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, 
 / am yours for ever. 
 
 Her. It is Grace, indeed.— 
 
 Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose 
 The one for ever earn'd a royal husband ; [twice : 
 The other, for some while a friend. 
 
 {Giving her hand to Polixenes.) 
 Leon. Too hot, too hot : {Aside. ' 
 
 To mingle friendshiji far, is mingling bloods. 
 I have tremor cordis on me : — my heart dances; 
 But not for joy, — not joy. — This entertainment 
 May a free face put on ; derive a liberty 
 From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosoni. 
 And well become the agent : it may, I grant : 
 But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers. 
 As now they are ; and m;iking pracfis'd smiles, 
 As in a looking-glass; — and then to sigh, as 'twere 
 The mort o'the deer; O, that is entertainment 
 My bosom likes not, nor my brows. — Mamillius, 
 Art thou my boy ? 
 yiam. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Leon. I'fecks ? 
 
 Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd 
 
 thy nose "? — 
 They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain, 
 We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: 
 And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf. 
 Are all call'd neat. — Still virginalling 
 
 {Observing Polixenes and Hermione.) 
 Upon his palm ';' — How now, you wanton calf. 
 Art thou my calf? 
 
 Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord 
 
 Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, ana the shoots 
 that I have. 
 To be full like me : — yet, they say, we are 
 Almost as like as eggs ; women say so. 
 That will say any thing : But were they false 
 As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters ; false 
 As dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes 
 No bourn 'twixt his and mine ; yet were it true 
 To say this boy were like me. — Come, sir page. 
 Look on me with your welkin eye : Sweet villain ! 
 Most dear's! I my cullop! — Can thy dam? — may't 
 Affection ! thy intention stabs the centre ; [be ? 
 
 Thou dost make possible, things not so held, 
 Communicat'st with dreams; — (How can this be?) 
 With what's unreal thou coactive art, 
 And fellow'st nothing : Then 'tis very credent, 
 I'hou may'st co-join with something; and thou dost ; 
 (And that beyond commission ; and I find it,) 
 And that to the infection of ray brains, 
 And hardening of my brows. 
 
 Pol. What means Sicilia? 
 
 Her. He something seems unsettled. 
 Pol. How, my lord ? 
 
 What cb^er? how is't with you, best brother ? 
 
 Her. Vou look. 
 
 As if you held a brow of much distfaction : 
 Are you mov'd, my lord? 
 
 Leon. No, in good earnest. — 
 
 How sometimes nature will betray its folly. 
 Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
 To harder bosoms ! Looking on the lines 
 Of my boy's face, methoughts. I did recoil 
 Twenty three years ; and saw myself unbreech'd. 
 In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled. 
 Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, 
 -As ornaments oft do, too dangerous. 
 How like, methought, I then was to this kernel. 
 This quash, this gentleman : — Mine honest frieii4. 
 Will you take eggs fir money? 
 Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight. 
 Leon. You will ? why, happy man be his dole !— 
 My brother. 
 Are you so fond of your young prince, as we 
 Do seem to be of ours ? 
 
2^0 
 
 wintp:r's tale. 
 
 Act I 
 
 Pol. v. at home, sir, 
 
 He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : 
 Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; 
 My pariisite, my solilier, statesman, ail : 
 He makes a July's day short as December; 
 And, with his varyinjf childness, cures in me 
 'I'hidiglits, that would thick my blood. 
 
 Leon. So stands this squire 
 
 Oftic d with me : We two will walk, my lord, 
 And leave yon to your graver steps. — Hermione, 
 How tlioii lov'st us, siiow in our brother's welcome ; 
 Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap : 
 Next to tliyself, and my young rover, he's 
 Apparent to my heart. 
 
 Her. If you would seek us, 
 
 We are yours i' the garden : Shall's attend you 
 there? (found, 
 
 Leon. To your own bents dispose you : you'll be 
 Be you beneath the sky : — I am angling now, 
 Thoujfh you perceive me not how I give line. 
 Go to, go to ! 
 
 {Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hermione.) 
 How siie holds up the neb, the bill to him ! 
 And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
 To her allowinsf husband ! Gone already ; 
 Inch-thick, knee-deep ; o'er head and ears a fork'd 
 one. — 
 
 [E.vemit Polixenes, Hermione, mid Attendants. 
 Go, play, boy, play ; — thy mother plays, and I 
 Flay too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue 
 Will hiss me to my grave ; contempt and clamour 
 Will be my knell. — Go, play, boy, play ; — There 
 
 have been, 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; 
 And many a man there is, even at this present. 
 Now, wlide I speak this, holds his wife by the arm. 
 That little thinks she has been sluic'd iu's absence, 
 And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by 
 Sir Smile, his neighbour : nay, there's comfort in't. 
 Whiles other men have gates ; and those gates 
 
 open'd. 
 As mine against their will : Should all despair. 
 That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind 
 Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none ; 
 It is a bawdy planet, that will strike 
 Where 'tis predominant ; and 'tis powerful, think it. 
 From east, west, north and south : Be it concluded. 
 No barricado for a belly ; know it; 
 It will let in and out the enemy. 
 With bag and baggage : many a thousand of us 
 Have the disease, and feel't not. — How now, boy? 
 
 Mam. I am like you, they say. 
 
 Leon. Why, that's some comfort. — 
 
 What ! Camillo there ! 
 
 Cam. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Leon. Go play, Mamilius ; thon'rt an honest 
 man. — [Exit Mamillius. 
 
 Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 
 
 Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold: 
 When you cast out, it still came home. _ 
 
 Leon. Didst note it ? 
 
 Cam. He would not stay at your petitions ; made 
 His business more material. 
 
 Leon. Didst perceive it? 
 
 They're here with me already; whispering, round- 
 Sicilia is a so forth: 'Tis far gone, [ing. 
 
 When I shall gust it last. — How came't, Camillo, 
 ThHt he did stay? 
 
 Cum. At the good queen's entreaty. 
 
 Leon. At the queen's, be't : good should be per- 
 Hut so it is, it is not. Was this taken [tiuent ; 
 
 By any understaHding pate but thine? 
 For tliy conceit is soaking, will draw in 
 More tlian the common blocks: — Not noted, is't, 
 But of the finer natures ? by some severals. 
 Of heiid-piece extraordinary? lower messes. 
 Perchance, are to tliis business purblind ; say. 
 
 Cam. Business, my lord ? I think, most under- 
 Bohemia stays here longer. [stand 
 
 Leon. Ha ? 
 
 Cam. Stays here longer 
 
 Leon. Ay, but why ? 
 
 Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties 
 Of our most gracious mistress. 
 
 Leon. Satisfy 
 
 The entreaties of your mistress ? satisfy ? — 
 
 Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, 
 With ail the nearest things to my heart, as well 
 My chamber councils : wherein, priest like, thou 
 Hast cleans'd my bosom ; I from thee departed 
 Thy penitent reform'd : but we have been 
 Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd 
 In that which seems so. 
 
 Cam. Be it forbid, my lord .' 
 
 Leon. To bide upon't; — Thou art nut hone.st : or, 
 If tliou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward ; 
 Which lioxes honesty behind, restraining 
 From course requir'd : Or else thou must be counted 
 A servant, grafted in my serious trust, 
 And therein negligent; or else a fool, 
 Thatseesta game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, 
 And tak'st it all for jest. 
 
 Cam. My gracious lord, 
 
 I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; 
 In every one of these no man is free. 
 But that his negligence, his folly, i'ear. 
 Amongst the inhnite doings of the world. 
 Sometimes puts forth : In your alfairs, my lord. 
 If ever I were wilful-negligent. 
 It was my folly; if industriously 
 I play'd the fool, it was my negligence. 
 Not weighing well the end : if ever fearful 
 To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 
 Whereof tlie execution did cry out 
 Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
 Which oft affects the wisest : these, my lord. 
 Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty 
 Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace. 
 Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass 
 By its own visagfe : if I then deny it, 
 'Tis none of mine. 
 
 Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, 
 
 (But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye- 
 glass 
 Is thicker than a cuckold's horn ;) or heard, 
 (For, to a vision so apparent, rumour 
 Cannot be mute,) or thought, (for cogitation 
 Resides not in that man, that does not think it,) 
 My wife is slippery ? If thou wilt confess, 
 (Or else be impudently negative. 
 To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say, 
 My wife's a hobbyhorse ; deserves a name 
 As rank as any tlax-wench, that puts to 
 Before her troth-plight ; say it, and justify it. 
 
 Cam. I would not be a slander by, to hear 
 My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 
 My present vengeance taken : 'shrew my heart, 
 V on never spoke what did become you less 
 Than this; which to reiterate, were sin 
 As deep as that, though true. 
 
 Leon. Is whispering nothing ? 
 
 Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ? 
 Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career 
 Of laughter with a sigh ? (a note infallible 
 Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ? 
 Siiulking in comers? wishing clocks more swift ? 
 Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind 
 With the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only, 
 That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? 
 Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing ; 
 The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ; 
 My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these no- 
 If this be nothing. tthings, 
 
 Ca?n. Good my lord, be cur'd 
 
 01 this diseas'd opinion, and betimes ; 
 For 'tis most dangerous. 
 
 Levn. Say, it be ; 'tis true. 
 
 Cam. No, no, my lord. 
 
 Leon. It is ; you lie, you lie : 
 
 I say, thou liest, Camillo, and 1 hate thee ; 
 
Scene 2, 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 231 
 
 Proumince tliee a gross lout, a mindless slave ; 
 
 Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
 
 Canst with thine eyes at ouce see good and evil, 
 
 locliniDg to them both: Were my wife's liver 
 
 Inlectfd as her life, she would not live 
 
 The running of one glass. 
 
 Cam. Who does infect her ? 
 
 Leon. Why, he that wears her like her medal, 
 Ahout his neck, Bohemia ; who — if I [hanging 
 
 Had servants true about nie ; that bare eyes 
 To see alike mine honour as their profits. 
 Their own particular thrifts, — tliey would do that. 
 Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou. 
 His cup-bearer, — whom I irom meaner form 
 Have bench'd, and rear'd toVorship; who tnay'st 
 
 see 
 Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven. 
 How 1 am galled, — miglit'st bespice a cup, 
 To give mine enemy a lasting wink ; 
 Which draught to me were cordial. 
 
 Cam. Sir, my lord, 
 
 I could <i(> this ; and that with uo rash potion. 
 But with a Img'ring dram, tha*^ should not work 
 Maliciously like poison : but 1 cannot 
 Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress. 
 So sovereignly being honourable. 
 I have lov'd thee, 
 
 Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot ! 
 
 Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled. 
 To appoint myself in this vexation 't sully 
 The purity and whiteness ol my sheets. 
 Which to [ireserve, is sleep; which being spotted. 
 Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps i 
 Give scandal to the bloud o'the prince my son. 
 Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine. 
 Without ripe moving to"t? — VV^ould 1 do this ? 
 Could man so blench/ 
 
 Cam. I must believe you, sir ; 
 
 I do; and will fetch ofl' Bohemia for't : 
 Provided, that, when he's remov'd, your highness 
 Will take again your queen, as yours at first; 
 Even for your son's sake ; and, thereby, fur sealing 
 The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms 
 Known and allied to yours. 
 
 Leon. Thou dost advise nie. 
 
 Even so as 1 mine own course have set down : 
 I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. 
 
 Cam. My lord, 
 Go then; and with a countenance as clear 
 As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia, 
 And with your queen : I am his cupbearer; 
 It from me he have wholesome beverage. 
 Account me not your servant. 
 
 Leon. Tiiis is all : 
 
 Do't, and thou hast the one hall of my lieart; 
 Do't not, thou split'st thine own. 
 
 Cam. I'll do't, my lord. 
 
 Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd 
 me. [Exit. 
 
 Cam. O miserable lady ! — But for me. 
 What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner 
 Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do't 
 Is the obedience to a master; one, 
 Who, in rebellion with himself, will have 
 All that are his, so too. — To do this deed. 
 Promotion follows : If I could tind example 
 Of thousands that have struck anointed kings. 
 And tlourish'd after, I'd not do't : but since 
 Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, 
 Let villainy itself forswear't. I must 
 Forsake the court : to do't, or no, is certain 
 To me a break- neck. Happy star, reign. now! 
 Here comes Bohemia. 
 
 Enter Polixenes. 
 
 Pol. This is strange ! methinks. 
 
 My favour here begins to warp. Mot speak ? 
 
 Good day, CamiUo. 
 
 Cam. Hail, most royal sir! 
 
 Pol. What is the news i'the court? 
 
 Cam. _ None rare, my lord 
 
 Pol. The king hath on him such a couuteuauce. 
 As he had lost some pro\ ince, and a region, 
 Lov'd as he loves himself: e»en now 1 met liim 
 With customary compliment; when he, 
 Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and tailing 
 A lip of much contempt, speeds born me ; and 
 So leaves me, to consider what is breeding. 
 That changes thus his manners. 
 
 Cam. I dare not know, my lord. 
 
 Pol. How ! dare not 'I do not. Do yon know, 
 and dare not 
 Be intelligent to me i 'Tis thereabouts : 
 For to yourself, what you do know, you must ; 
 And cannot say, you dare not. Good Cauiillo, 
 Your chang'd complexions are to me a minor, 
 Which shows me mine chang'd too: fur 1 must bo 
 A party in this alteration, fiiiiliiig 
 Mysell thus alter'd with it. 
 
 Cam. There is a sickness. 
 
 Which puts some of «s in distemper; but 
 I cannot name the disease ; and it is caught 
 Of you, that yet are well. 
 
 Pol. How ! caught of nie i 
 
 Make me not sighted like the basilisk. 
 I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better 
 
 By my regard, but kill'd none so. ., C-aniillo, 
 
 As you are certainly a gentleman;. thereto 
 
 Cleik-like, experienc'd, which no less adorns 
 
 Our gentry, than our parents' noble names. 
 
 In wiiose success we are gentle, — I beseech you, 
 
 If you know aught which does belio\e my knovvledire 
 
 Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not 
 
 In ignorant concealment. 
 
 Cam. I may not answer. 
 
 Pol. -4. sickness caught of nie, and yet I well! 
 I must be answer'd. — Dost thou hear, Camillo, 
 I conjure thee, by all the parts of man, 
 Which honour does acknowledge, — whereof the 
 
 least 
 Is not this suit of mine, — that thou declare 
 Wliat incidency thou dost guess of harm 
 Is creeping toward me ; how far oil, how near ; 
 VVliich way to be prevented, if to be ; 
 If not, how best to bear it. 
 
 Cam. Sir, I.'U tell you ; 
 
 Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him (sel ; 
 
 Tliat I think honourable : therefore, maik my coun- 
 VVhich must be even as-svviltly ibllow'd, as 
 I mean to utter it; or both yourself and lue 
 Cry, lost., and so goodrnight. 
 
 Pol. On, good Camillo. 
 
 Cam. I am appointed Him, to murder yiiu. 
 
 Pol- By whom, Camillo? 
 
 Cam. By the king. 
 
 Pol. For what;? 
 
 Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he 
 As he had seen't, or been an instrument [sw^eara 
 To vice you to't, — that you have touch'd his qpeea. 
 Forbiddenly. 
 
 Pol. O, then my best blood turn 
 
 To an infected jelly ; and my name 
 Be yok'd with his, that did betray the best ! 
 Turn then my freshest repi.tation to 
 A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril 
 Where I arrive; and my approach be sliunn'd. 
 Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st inlection, 
 'I'hat e'er was heard, or read ! 
 
 Cam. ' Swear his thought ova*: 
 
 By each particular star in heaven, and 
 By all their influences, you may as well 
 Forbid the sea lor to obey the moon, 
 As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake 
 The fabric of his folly; whose loiimlution. 
 Is pil'd upon his laith, and will continue 
 The standing of his body. 
 
 Pol. How sh.ouid this-gTiOWi 
 
 Cam. I know not: but, 1 am siice, "tis .lafer to 
 Avoid what's grown, tU;vn question haw 'li,s bor.U. 
 If therefore you dare trust my hones^y..-^ 
 
232 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you 
 
 Shall bear along impawn'd,— away to-ni-^lit. 
 
 Your followers I will whisper to the business ; 
 
 And will, by twos, and threes, at several posterns, 
 
 Clear them of the city : For myself, I'll put 
 
 My fortunes to your service, vvliich are here 
 
 By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; 
 
 For, by the honour of my parents, I 
 
 Have utter'd truth : which if you seek to prove, 
 
 I dare not stand by ; nor shall you be safer 
 
 Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, 
 
 His execution sworn. [thereon 
 
 Pol. I do believe thee ; 
 
 I saw his heart in his face. Give nie thy hand ; 
 Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
 (Still neighbour mine : my ships are ready, and 
 My people did expect my hence departure 
 'i\vo days ago. — This jealousy 
 Is for a precious creature : as she's rare. 
 Must it be great ; and, as his person's mighty. 
 Must it be violent ; and as he does conceive 
 He is dishonour'd by a man which ever 
 Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must 
 In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me ; 
 Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
 The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing 
 Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, CaiuiUo ; 
 I will respect thee as a father, if 
 Thou bear'st my life oil' hence : let us avoid. 
 
 Cam. It is in mine authority, to command 
 The keys of all the posterns : please your highness 
 To take the urgent hour: Come, sir, away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT H. 
 
 Scene I.— The same. 
 'Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies. 
 Her. Ti:ke the boy to you : he so troubles me, 
 'Tis past enduring. 
 
 1 Ladij. Come, my gracious lord. 
 
 Shall I be your play-fellow? 
 
 Mrtni. ' No, I'll none of you. 
 
 1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ? 
 
 Mam. You'll kiss me hard ; and speak to me as if 
 I were a baby still. — 1 love you better. 
 
 2 Lady. And why so, my good lord ? 
 
 Mam. Not for because 
 
 Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, 
 Become some women best ; so that there be not 
 Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle. 
 Or half-moon made with a pen. 
 
 2 Lady. Who taught yon this ? 
 
 Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces. — Pray 
 What colour are your eye-brows ? [now 
 
 1 Lady. Blue, my lord. 
 
 Ma/n. Nay, that's a mock: [ have seen a lady's 
 nose 
 That has been blue, but not her eye-brcws. 
 
 Q Lady. Hark ye : 
 
 The queen, your mother, rounds apace : we shall 
 Present our services to a fine new prince, 
 One of these days: and then you'd wanton with us, 
 Jf we would have you. 
 
 1 Lady. She is spread of late 
 
 Into a goodly bulk : Good time encounter her ! 
 
 Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, 
 sir,, now 
 sI am for you again : pray you, sit by us. 
 And tell's a tale. 
 
 Mam. Merry, or sad, shall't be ? 
 
 Her. As merry as you will. 
 
 Mam. A sad tale's best for winter ; 
 
 1 have one of sprites and goblius. 
 
 Her. Let's have that, sir. 
 
 .Come on, sit down : — Come on, and do your best 
 To fright me with your sprites: you're powerful at 
 
 Mam.. There was a man, [it. 
 
 Hex. Nay, come, sit down; then on. 
 
 Mam. Dwelt by a churchyard:— I will tell it 
 softly ; 
 
 Yon crickets shall not hear it. 
 
 Her. Come on, then. 
 
 And give't me in mine ear. 
 
 Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and others. 
 
 Leon. Was he met there ? his train? Camillo with 
 him? [never 
 
 I Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them 
 Saw 1 men scour so on their way: I ey'd them 
 Even to their ships. 
 
 Leon. How bless'd am I 
 
 In my just censure? in my true opinion .'' — 
 Alack, for lesser knowledge! — How accurs'd, 
 In being so blest! — There may be in the cup 
 A spider steep'd, and one may drink ; depart. 
 And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge . 
 Is not injected: but if one present 
 The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
 How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, iiis side.» 
 With violent hefts : — I have drank, and s»>en the 
 
 spider. 
 Camillo was his help in this, his pander! — 
 There is a plot against my life, my crown ; 
 All's true tliat is mistrusted: — that false villain. 
 Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him : 
 He has discover'd my design, and I 
 Remain a pinch'd thing: yea, a very trick 
 For them to play at will : — How came the posterns 
 So easily open? 
 
 I Lord. By his great authority ; 
 
 Which often hath no less prevail'd than so. 
 On your command. 
 
 Leon. I know't too well. 
 
 Give me the boy ; I am glad, you did not nurse him : 
 Though he does bear some sign of me, yet you 
 Have too much blood in him. 
 
 Her. What is this ? sport ? 
 
 Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come 
 about her; 
 Away with liim : — and let her sport herself 
 With that she's big with ; for 'tis Polixenes 
 Has made thee swell thus. 
 
 Her. But I'd say he had not. 
 
 And, I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying, 
 Howe'er you lean to the nayward. 
 
 Leon. You, my lords. 
 
 Look on her, mark her well; be but about 
 To say, she is a goodly lady, and 
 The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
 'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable : 
 Praise her but for this her vvithotit-door form, 
 (Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and 
 
 straight 
 The shrug, the hum, or ha ; these petty brands. 
 That calumnv doth use : — O, I am out. 
 That mercy does ; for calumny will sear 
 Virtue itself: — these shrugs, these hums, and lia's, 
 When you have said, she's goodly, come between, 
 Ere you can say, she's honest : But be it known 
 From him, that has most cause to grieve it should be 
 She's an adultress. 
 
 Her. Should a villain say so, 
 
 The most replenish'd villain in the world, 
 He were as much more villain : you, my lord, 
 Do but mistake. 
 
 Leon. You have mistook, my lady, 
 
 Polixenes for Leontes : O thou thing. 
 Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, • 
 Lest barbarism, making me the precedent. 
 Should a like language use to all degrees. 
 And mannerly distiiiguishment leave out 
 Betwixt the prince and beggar! — I have said. 
 She's an adultress ; I have said v^ith whom : 
 More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is 
 A federary with her ; and one that knows 
 What she should shame to know herself. 
 But with her most vile principal, that she's 
 A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 
 'I'hat vulgars give bold titles; ay, and privy 
 To this their late escape. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 233 
 
 Her. No, by iny life, 
 
 Privy to none of this : How will this grieve yoii, 
 When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that 
 Von thus have publish'H me? Gentle my lord, 
 Vou scarce can right me throughly tleu, to say 
 You did mistake. 
 
 Leon. No, no ; if I mistake 
 
 [n those fonndalions which, 1 build upon, 
 The center is not big enough to bear 
 A school-boy's top. — Away with her to prison : 
 He, who shall speak for her, is afar ofl' guilty, 
 But that he speaks. 
 
 Her. There's some ill planet reigns : 
 
 I must be patient, till the heavens look 
 With an aspi^ct tnore favourable. — Good my lords, 
 I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
 Commonly are ; the want of which vain dew, 
 Perchance, shall dry your pities : but I have 
 That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns 
 Worse than tears drown : 'Beseech you all, my 
 
 lords, 
 With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
 Shall best instruct you, measure me; — and so 
 The king's wiJl be perform'd ! 
 
 Leon. Shall I be heard ? 
 
 [To the Guards.) 
 Her. Who is't, that goes with meV — 'Beseech 
 your highness. 
 My women may be with me ; for, yot: see, 
 My plight requues it. Do not weep, good fools ; 
 There is no cause ; when you shall know, your 
 
 mistress 
 Has deserv'd a prison, then abound in tears. 
 As I come out : this action 1 now go on, 
 Is for my better grace. — Adieu, my lord : 
 I never wish'd to see you sorry ; now, 
 
 I trust, I shall. My women, come; you have 
 
 Leon. Go, do your bidding; hence. [leave. 
 
 lE.x:eunf Queen mid Ladies. 
 
 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen 
 
 again. 
 Ani. Be certain what you do, sir; lest your justice 
 Prove violence ; in the which three great ones suffer. 
 Yourself, your queen, your son. 
 
 1 Lord. For her, my lord, — 
 
 I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir, 
 Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless 
 r the eyes of heaven, and to you ; 1 mean, 
 In this which you accuse her. 
 
 Anl. If it prove 
 
 She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where 
 1 lodge my wife : I'll go in couples with her; 
 Than when I feel, and see her, no further trust her; 
 For every inch of woman in the world. 
 Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false. 
 If she be. 
 Leon. Hold your peaces. 
 1 Lord. Good my lord, — 
 
 A7it. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves : 
 You are abus'd, and by some putter-on, [lain. 
 
 That will be danm'd for't; 'would I knew the vil- 
 I would land-damn him : Be she honour-flaw'd, — 
 I have three daughters ; the eldest is eleven ; 
 The second, and the third, nine, and some five ; 
 If this prove true, they'll pay for't : by mine ho- 
 nour, 
 I'll geld them all ; fourteen tl^'y shall not see, 
 To bring false generations : they are co-heirs ; 
 And I had rather glib myself, than they 
 Should not produce fair issue. 
 
 Leon. Cease ; no more. 
 
 You smell this business with a sense as cold 
 As is a dead man's nose : I see't, and feel't. 
 As you feel doing thus ; and see withal 
 The instruments that feel. 
 
 Ant. Ifitbeso, 
 
 We need no grave to bury honesty ; 
 There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten 
 Of the wnole dungy earth. 
 
 Leon. What! lack I credit? 
 
 1 Lord. I had rather jou did lack, than I, tny 
 lord, 
 Upon this ground : and more it would content me 
 To have her honour true, than your suspicion ; 
 Be blam'd for't how you might. 
 
 Leon. VVhy, what need we 
 
 Commune with you of this? but rather follow 
 Our forceful instigation? Our |)rerogative 
 Calls not your counsels: but our natural goodness 
 Imparts this : which, — if you, (or stupified. 
 Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not. 
 Relish as truth, like us; inform yourselves. 
 We need no more of your advice: the matter. 
 The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all 
 Properly ours. 
 
 Ant. And I wish; my liege, 
 
 You had only in your silent judgment tried it. 
 Without more overture. 
 
 Leon. How could that be ? 
 
 Either thou art most ignorant by age, 
 Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight. 
 Added to their familiarity, 
 (Which was as gross as evertouch'd conjecture. 
 That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation. 
 But only seeing, all other circumstances 
 Made up to the deed,) doth push on this proceeding : 
 Yet, for a greater confirmation, 
 (For, in an act of this importance, 'twere 
 Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd in post. 
 To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, 
 Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
 Of stutrd sufficiency : Now, from the oracle 
 They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had. 
 Shall stop, or spur me. Have I done well ? 
 
 1 Lord. W^ell done, my lord. 
 
 Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more 
 Than what I know, yet shall the oracle 
 Give rest to the niindsof others ; such as he. 
 Whose ignorant credulity will not 
 Come up to the truth : So ha\ e we thought it good. 
 From our free person she should be confin'd ; 
 Lest that the treachery of the two, fled hence, 
 Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; 
 We are to speak in public : for this business 
 Will raise us all. 
 
 Ajit. {Aside.) To laughter, as I take it, 
 If the good truth were known. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — T/te same. — The outer Room of a 
 Prison. 
 
 Enter Paulina and Attendants. 
 
 Paid. The keeper of the prison, — call to him ; 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 Let hi..i have knowledge who I am. — Good lady ! 
 No court in Europe is too good for thee> 
 What dost thou then in prison ? — Now, good sir, 
 
 Re-enter Attendant with the Keeper. 
 You know uie, do you not ? 
 
 Keep. For a worthy lady 
 
 And one whom I much honour. 
 
 Paul. Pray you, then. 
 
 Conduct me to the queen. 
 
 Keep. I may not, madam ; to the contrary 
 I have express commandment. 
 
 Paul. Here's ado. 
 
 To lock up honesty and honour from 
 The access of gentle visitors I— Is it lawful, 
 Pray you, to see her women ? any of them ? 
 Emilia? 
 
 Keep. So please you, madam, to put 
 Apart these your attendants, I shall bring 
 Emilia forth. 
 
 Paul. I pray now, call her — 
 
 Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Attend. 
 
 Keep. And, madam, 
 
 I must be present at your conference. 
 
 Paul. Well, be it so, pr'ythee. [Exit Keeper 
 Here's such ado to make no stain a stain, 
 As passes colouring. 
 
234 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 Re enter Keeper, ivilh Emilia. 
 
 Dear ajentlewoinan, how fares our gracious lady ? 
 Emit. As well as one so great, and so forlorn, 
 May hold togetlier : on iier iiights, and griefs, 
 (Which ne>er tender lady hath borne greater,) 
 She is, something' bel'ore lier time, deliver'd. 
 
 Paul. A boy ? 
 
 Emil. A daughter; and a goodly babe, 
 
 Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives 
 Much c<inifort in't : says. Mi/ poor prisoner, 
 I am innocent as you. 
 
 Paul. I dare he sworn : 
 
 These dangerous unsafe Junes o'the king ! beshrew 
 
 them ! 
 He must be told on't, and lie shall : the office 
 Becomes a woman best ; I'll take't upon me : 
 If 1 prove honey-modth'd, let my tongue blister; 
 And never to my rfU-look'd anger be 
 The trumpet any more : — Pray you, Emilia, 
 Commend my best obedience to the queen; 
 If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
 I'll show't the king, and undertake to be 
 Her advocate to tli' loudest : We do not know 
 How he may soften at the sight o'the cliild; 
 The silence often of pure innocence 
 Persuades, when speaking fails. 
 
 Emil. Most wortliy madam, 
 
 Your honour, and your goodness, is so evident. 
 That your tree undertaking cannot miss 
 A thriving issue; there is no hidy living. 
 So meet (or this great errand : Please your ladyship 
 To visit the next room, Pll presently 
 Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; 
 Who, hut to day, hammer'd of this design; 
 But durst not teinpt a minister of honour. 
 Lest she should be denied. 
 
 Paul. Tell her,. Emilia, 
 
 I'll use that tongue I have : if wit flow from it. 
 As boldne.ss from my bosom, let it not be doubted 
 I shall do good. 
 
 Emil. Now be you blest for it ! 
 
 I'll to the queen : Please you, come something 
 nearer. [babe. 
 
 Keep. Madam, iPt please the queen to send the 
 ^ I know not what I shall incur, to pass it. 
 Having no warrant. 
 
 Paul. You need not fear it, sir : 
 The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is. 
 By law and process of great nature, thence 
 Freed and enfranchis'd : not a party to 
 The anger of the king; nor guilty of. 
 If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
 
 Keep. I do believe it. 
 
 Paul. Do not you fear : upon 
 
 Mine honour, I will stand 'twixtyou and danger. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 Leo7t. Nor night nor day, no rest : It is but 
 weakness 
 To bear the matter thus; mere weakness, if 
 The cause were not in being ; — part o'the cause. 
 She, the adiiltress; — for the harlot king 
 Is Quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank 
 And level of my brain, plot-proof: but she 
 I can hook to me : Say, that she were gone. 
 Given to (he fire, a moiety of my rest 
 Might come to rae again. Who's there ? 
 
 1 Atten. My lord ? {Advahcinij.) 
 
 Leon. How does the boy ? 
 
 1 Alien. He took good rest to-night ; 
 
 Tis iio,/d, his sickness is discharg'd. 
 
 Leon To see 
 
 His nobleness! 
 
 Conceiving the dishonour of his mother. 
 He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply ; 
 Fa^ten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself; 
 
 Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep. 
 
 And downright languish'd. — Leave me solely : — go. 
 
 See how he fares. [Exit Attend.] — Fy, fy! do 
 
 thought of him ; — 
 The very thought of my revenges that way 
 Kecoil upon me : in himself too mighty ; 
 And in his parties, his alliance, — Let him be. 
 Until a time may serve : for present vengeance, 
 Take it on her. Camillo and Polixeiies 
 Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow : 
 They should not laugh, if I could reach tliem ; nor 
 Shall she, within my power. 
 
 Enter Paulina, with a Child. 
 
 I Lord. You must not enter. 
 
 Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to 
 Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, (me : 
 Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul ; 
 More free, than he is jealous. 
 
 Ant. That's enough. 
 
 I Attend. Madam, he hath not slept to night, 
 commanded 
 None should come at him. 
 
 Paul. Not so hot, good sir ; 
 
 I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, — 
 That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh 
 At each his needless heavings,— such as you / 
 Nourish the cause of his awaking : I 
 Do come with words as med'cinal as true; 
 Honest as either; to purge him of that humour 
 That presses him from sleep. 
 
 Leon. What noise there, ho'' 
 
 Paul. No noise, my lord ; but needful conference. 
 About some gossips for your highness. 
 
 Leon. How? 
 
 Away with that audacious lady: Antigonus, 
 
 I charg'd thee, that she should not come about me ; 
 
 I knew, she would. 
 
 Ant. I told her so, my lord. 
 
 On your displeasure's peril, and on mine. 
 She should not visit you. 
 
 Leon. What, canst not rule her ? 
 
 Paul. From all dishonesty, he can : in this, 
 (Unless he take the course that you have done. 
 Commit me, for comnutting honour), trust it. 
 He shall not rule me. 
 
 Ant. Lo you now ; yon hear ! 
 
 When she will take the rein, I let her run; 
 But she'll not stumble. 
 
 Paul. Good my liege, I come, — 
 
 And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess 
 Myself your loyal servant, your physician, 
 Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dare 
 Less appear so, in comforting your evils. 
 Than such as most seem yours: — I say, I come 
 From your good queen. 
 
 Leon. Good queen ! 
 
 Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen : I say, 
 good queen ; 
 And would by combat make her good, so were I 
 A man, the worst about you. 
 
 Leon. Force her hence. 
 
 Paul. Let him, that makes but trifles of his eyes. 
 First hand me : on mine own accord, I'll off; 
 But, first, I'll do mine errand. — The good queen. 
 For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter ; 
 Here 'tLs; commends it to your blessing. 
 
 {Laying down the child, j 
 Leon. / Out 1 
 
 A mankind witch ! Hence with her, out o'door: 
 A most intelligencing bawd ! 
 
 Paul. Not so : 
 
 I am as ignorant in that, as yon 
 In so entitling me : and no less honest 
 Than you are mad ; which is enough, I'll warrant. 
 As this world goes, to pass for honest. 
 
 Leon. Traitors ! 
 
 Will yoH not push her out? Give her the bastard : — 
 Thou, dotard [to Antigonua), thou art woman-tir'd, 
 unroosted 
 
SCKNE 3. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 235 
 
 By thy dame Parllet here, — take up the bastard; 
 Tak't lip, I say ; give't to thy crone. 
 
 Paul. For ever 
 
 Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou 
 'I'ak'st up the princess, bv that forced baseness 
 Which he has put upou'tl 
 
 Leon. He dreads his wife. 
 
 Paul. So, I would, you did; tlien 'twere past all 
 You'd call your children yours. [duubt, 
 
 Jjfion. A nest of traitors! 
 
 Ant. I am none, by this good light. 
 
 Paul. Nor I ; nor any, 
 
 But one, that's here ; and that's himself: for he 
 The sacrpd honour of himself, his queen's. 
 His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, 
 Whose sfiug is sharper than the sword's ; and will not 
 (For, as the case now stands, it is a curse 
 He cannot be compeH'd to'l,) once remove 
 The lootof his opinion, which is rotten. 
 As ever oak, or stone, was sound. 
 
 Lean. A callat, 
 
 Of boundless tongue ; who late hath beat her hus- 
 band. 
 And now baits me ! — This brat is none of mine ; 
 It is the issue of PoKxenes : 
 Henci! with it; and, togetlier with the dam, 
 Comnirt them to the fire. 
 
 Paul. It is yours ; 
 
 .\nd, might we lay the old proverb to your charge. 
 So like you, 'tis the worse. — Behold, my lords, 
 Although the print be little, the whole matter 
 And coj)y of the father; eye, nose, lip, 
 'I'he trick of his frown, his forehead ; nay, the valley. 
 The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek ; his 
 
 smiles; 
 T1ie very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: — 
 And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it 
 So like to him that got it, if thou hast 
 The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours 
 No yellow in't; lest she suspect, as he does. 
 Her children not her husb:ind's ! 
 
 Lnon. A gross hag ! — 
 
 And, |t)zel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, 
 That wilt not stay her tongue. 
 
 Anl. Hang all the husbands, 
 
 That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself 
 Hardly one subject. 
 
 Leon. Once more, take her hence 
 
 Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord 
 Can do no more. 
 
 Leon. I'll have thee burn'd. 
 
 Paul. 1 care not : 
 
 It is an heretic that makes the fire, 
 Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call thee tyrant ; 
 But this most cruel usage of your queen 
 (Not able to produce more accusation 
 Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something sa- 
 
 \ours 
 Of tyranny, aud will ignoble make yx)li, 
 Vea, scandalous to the world. 
 
 Leon. On your allegiance. 
 
 Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyraut. 
 Where were her life ? she durst not call me so. 
 If she did know me one. Away with her. 
 
 Paul. I pray yon, do not push me ; I'll be gone. 
 Look to your babe, my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove send 
 
 her 
 A better guiding spirit ! — What need these hands ? — 
 ^ ou, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, 
 Will never do hitn good, not one of you. 
 Si>, so: — Farewell; we are gone. [Exit. 
 
 Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. — 
 My child ? away with't ! — even thou, that hast 
 A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence. 
 And see it instantly consum'd with fire; 
 lii en thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight : 
 Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, 
 (And by good testimony,) or I'll seize thy life, 
 ^V ith wiuit thou else call'st thine: If thou refuse, 
 Ani wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; 
 
 The bastard brains with these my proper hand* 
 Sliall I dash out. Go, take it to tlie iire ; 
 For thou sett'st on thy wife. 
 
 Ant. I did not, sir* 
 
 These lords, my noble fellow.s, if they please, 
 Can clear me in't. 
 
 1 Lord. We can : my royal liege. 
 
 He is not guilty of her coming hither. 
 
 Leon. You are liars all. [credit 
 
 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us bettei 
 We have always truly serv'd you ; and beseech 
 So to esteem of us : and on our knees we beg, 
 (As recompense of our dear services. 
 Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose ; 
 Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must 
 Lead on to some foul issue : We all kneel. 
 
 Leon. I am a feather for each wind tiiat blows : — 
 Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel 
 .\nd call me father? Better bum it now. 
 Than curse it then. But, be it; let it li\e: 
 It shall not neither. — You, sir, come you hitlier; 
 
 {To Anti(jomts.\ 
 You, that have been so tenderly officious 
 With lady JMargery, yotir midwife, there. 
 To save this bastard's life : for 'tis a b;istard. 
 So sure as this beard's grey, — what will you ad^en- 
 To save this brat's life 'i* (ture 
 
 Ant. Any thing, my lord, 
 
 That my ability may undergo. 
 And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; 
 I'll pawn the little blood which I have left, 
 To save the innocent: any thing possible. 
 
 Leon. It shall be possible : swear by this sword. 
 Thou wilt perform my bidding. 
 
 Ant. I will, my lord. 
 
 Leon, Mark, and perform it; (see'st thou?) for 
 Of any point in't shall not only be |the fail 
 
 Death to thysell', but to thy lewd tongu'd wife ; 
 Whom, for this time, we pardon. \Ve enjoin thee. 
 As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry 
 This female bastard hence; and that tliou bear it 
 To some remote and desert place, ouite out 
 Of our dominions ; and that there thou lea\e it. 
 Without more mercy, to its owTi protection. 
 And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune 
 It came to us, I do in )ustice charge thee, — 
 Od thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture,-*- 
 That thou commend it strangely to some place, 
 Where chance may nurse, or end it : Take it up. 
 
 Ant. I swear to do this, though a present death 
 Had been more merciful. — Come or, poor babe : 
 Some powerfid spirit instruct the kites and ravens. 
 To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say. 
 Casting their savageness aside, have done 
 Like offices of pity. — Sir, be prosperous 
 In more than this deed doth require ! — and blessing. 
 Against this cruelty, fight on thy side. 
 Poor thing, condemn'd to loss ! 
 
 [Exit, with the Child. 
 
 Leon. No, I'll not rear 
 
 Another's issue. 
 
 I Alien. Please your highness, posts. 
 
 From those you sent to the oracle, are come 
 An hour since : Cleomenes and Dion, 
 Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, 
 Hasting to the court. 
 
 1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed 
 
 Hath been beyond account. 
 
 Leon. Twenty-three days 
 
 They have been absent : 'Tis good speed ; foretels. 
 The great Apollo suddenly will have 
 The truth of this a|)|,'ear. Prepare you, lords; 
 Summon a ses.sion, that we may arraign 
 Our most disloyal lady : for, as she hath 
 Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have 
 A just aud open trial. While she lives. 
 My heart will be a burden tome. Leave me ; 
 And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt 
 
236 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 , SCEXE I. — The same. A Street in some Town. 
 Enter Cleomenes and DioN. 
 
 Cleo. The dinmle's delicate ; the air most sweet; 
 Fertile the isle ; the temjile much surpassing 
 The common praise it bears. 
 
 Dion. I shall report, 
 
 For most it caught me, the celestial habits, 
 (Methinks, I so should term them,) and the reverence 
 Ol' the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice ! 
 How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
 It was ithe offering ! 
 
 Cleo. But, of all, the burst 
 
 And the ear-deafening voice o'the oracle. 
 Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd ray sense. 
 That I was nothing. 
 
 Dion. If the event o'the journey 
 
 Prove as-successful to the queen, — O, be't sol — 
 As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, 
 The time is worth the use on't. 
 
 Cleo. Great Apollo, 
 
 Turn all to the best! These proclamations, 
 So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
 I little like. 
 
 Dion. The violent carnage of it 
 
 Will clear, or end, the business: When the oracle, 
 (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,) 
 Shall the contents discover, souielhing rare 
 
 Even then will rush to knowledge. Go, — fresh 
 
 horses ; — 
 And gracious be the issue ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Court of Justice. 
 
 Leontes, Lords, atid Officens, appear proper!// 
 seated. 
 
 Leon. This sessions (to our great grief, we pro- 
 nounce,) 
 Even pushes 'gainst our heart : The party tried. 
 The daughter of a king; our wife ; and one 
 Of us too niuch belov'd. — Let us be clear'd 
 Ol being tyrannous, since we so openly 
 Proceed injustice; which shall have due course, 
 
 Even to the guilt, or the purgation. 
 
 Produce the prisoners. 
 
 Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen 
 Appear in person here in court. — Silence ! 
 
 Hermione is brought in, f/uarded; Paulina and 
 Ladies, attending. 
 
 Leon. Read the indictment. 
 
 Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, 
 kiny of Sicilia, thou art here accused and ar- 
 raigned of high treason, in committing adultery 
 tvith PoliXenes. king of Bohemia ; and conspiring 
 with Camillo to take away the life of our sove- 
 reign lord the king, thy royal husband : the pre- 
 tence lohereof being by circumstances partly laid 
 open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and 
 allegiance qf a true subject, didst counsel and 
 aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by 
 night. 
 
 Her. Since what I am to say, must be but that 
 Which contradicts my accusation; and 
 The testimony on my part, no other 
 But what comes frou) myself; it shall scarce bootrne 
 To say. Not guilty : mine integrity 
 Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it. 
 Be so receiv'd. But thus, — If powers divine 
 Behold our human actions (as they do), 
 I doubt not then, but innocence shall make 
 False accusation blush, and tyranny 
 Tremble at patience. — You, my lord, best know, 
 
 IWho least will seem to do so,) my past life 
 lath been as continent, as chaste, as true. 
 As 1 am now unhappy ; which is more 
 Than history can pattern, though devis'd, 
 And piay'd, to take spectators: For behold me, — 
 A fellow of the royal bed, which owe 
 A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter. 
 
 The mother to a hopeful prince,— here standing. 
 
 To prate and talk for life, and honour 'fore 
 
 Wiio please to come and hear. For life, I prize it 
 
 As I weigh grief, which I would spare : for henoiir, 
 
 'T\s a derivative from me to mine. 
 
 And only that I stand for. I appeal 
 
 To your own conscience, sir, be'lbre Polixencs 
 
 Came io your court, how I was in your grace, 
 
 How merited to be so ; since he came. 
 
 With what encounter so uncurrent I 
 
 Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond 
 
 The bound of honour ; or, in act, or will, 
 
 'J'hat way inclining ; harden'd be the hearts 
 
 Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin 
 
 Cry, Fy upon my grave ! 
 
 Leon. I ne'er heard yet. 
 
 That any of these bolder vices wanted 
 Less impudence to gainsay what they did. 
 Than to perform it fiist. 
 
 Her. That's true enough ; 
 
 Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. 
 
 Leon. You will not own it. 
 
 Her. More than mistress of, 
 
 Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not 
 At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, 
 (With whom I am accus'rl,) I do confess, 
 I lov'd him, as in honour he requir'd ; 
 With such a kind of love, as might become 
 A lady like me ; with a love, even such. 
 So, and no other, as yourself commanded : 
 Which not to have done, I think, had been in me 
 Both disobedience and ingratitude [spoke, 
 
 'I'o you, and toward your friend ; whose love had 
 Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely 
 That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
 1 know not how it tastes ; though it be dish'd 
 For me to try how : all I know of it 
 Is, that Camillo was an honest man; 
 And, why he left your court, the gods themselves. 
 Wotting no more than \. are ignorant. 
 
 Leon. You knew of his departnre, as you know 
 What you have undertaken to do in's absence. 
 
 Her. Sir, 
 You speak a language, that I understand not: 
 My lite stands in the level ol'your dreams. 
 Which I'll lay down. 
 
 Leon. Your actions are my dreams ; 
 
 You had a bastard by Polixenes, 
 And I but dream'd it : — As you were past all shame, 
 (Those of your fact are so,) so past all trnth 
 Which to deny, concerns more than avails : 
 For as 
 
 Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself. 
 No father owning it, (\vhich is, indeed. 
 More criminal in thee than it,) so thou 
 Shalt feel our justice ; in whose easiest passage, 
 Look for DO less than death. 
 
 Her. Sir, spare your threats ; 
 
 The bug, which you would fright me with, I seek. 
 To me can life be no commodity : 
 The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, 
 I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone, 
 But kndw not how it went : My second joy. 
 And first-fruits of my body, from his presence 
 I am barr'd, like one infectious : My ttiird comfort, 
 Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast. 
 The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth. 
 Haled out to murder: Myself on every post 
 Proclaim'd a strumpet : with immodest hatred. 
 The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs 
 To women of all fashion :— Lastly, hurried 
 Here to this place, i'the open air, before 
 1 have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, 
 Tell me what blessings I have here alive. 
 That I should fear to die ? Therefore, proceed. 
 But yet hear this ; mistake me not : — No ! life, 
 I prize it not a straw : — but for mine honour, 
 (Which I would free,) if 1 shall be condemn'd 
 Upon surmises ; all proofs sleeping else. 
 But what your jealousies awake ; I tell you. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 237 
 
 Tis rigour, and no! law.— Your honours all, 
 [ do refer me to the oracle ; 
 Ajii^llo be my judge. 
 
 ] Lord. This your request 
 
 Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth. 
 And iu Apollo's name, his oracle. 
 
 \Exeiml certain Officers. 
 
 Her. The emperor of Russia was my father: 
 O, that he were alive, and here beholding 
 Wis daughter's trial ! that he did but see 
 The flatness of my misery ; yet with eyea 
 •Of pity, not revenge I 
 
 Re-enter Officers, with Cleomenes and Dion. 
 
 Offi. You here shall swear upon this sword of 
 justice, 
 That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have [brought 
 
 Ijeen both at Delphos : and from thence have 
 This seal'd-uu oracle, by the hand deliver'd 
 Of great Apollo's priest: and that since then. 
 You have not dar'd'to break the holy seal. 
 Nor read the secrets in't. 
 
 Cleo. Dion. All this we swear. 
 
 li?uti.. Break up the seals, and read. 
 
 Offi. {Reads.) Hermione is chaste, Polixenes 
 blameless. Camilla a true subject. Leontes a jea- 
 lous ttfrant, his innocent babe truly begotten ; and 
 the king shall live ivithout an heir, if that, which 
 is lost, be not found. 
 
 Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo! 
 
 Her. Praised ! 
 
 Leon. Hast thou read (ruth ? 
 
 Offi. Ay, my lord; even so 
 
 As it is here set down. 
 
 Leon. There is no truth at all i'the oracle : 
 The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood. 
 
 Enter a Servant hastily, 
 
 Serv. My lord the king, the king! 
 
 Leon. What is the business? 
 
 Serv. O sir, I sh ill be hated to report it : 
 'J'he printe your son. uith mere conceit and fear 
 Of the queen's speed, is gone. 
 
 Leon. How ! gone ? 
 
 Serv. Is dead. 
 
 Leon. Apollo's angry ; and the heavens them- 
 selves [now there? 
 Do strike at my injustice. [Hermione faints.) How 
 
 Paul. This news is mortal to the queen : — Look 
 down, 
 And see what death \i doing. 
 
 Leon. Take her henCe ; 
 
 Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover. — 
 I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion: — 
 'Beseech yu, tenderly apply to her 
 Some remedies for life. — Apollo, pardon 
 
 [Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, ivith Herm. 
 My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle ! — 
 I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; 
 New woo my queen ; recal the good Camillo; 
 Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy : 
 For, being transported by my jealousies 
 To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose 
 Camillo for the minister, t> poison 
 My friend Polisenes: which had been done. 
 But tliat the good mind of Camillo tardied 
 My swift comu)and, though I with death, and with 
 Reward, did threaten and encourasje him. 
 Not doing it, and being done : he, most himiane, 
 And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest 
 Unclasp'd my practice; quit his fortunes here. 
 Which you knew great; and to the certain hazard 
 Of all uncertainties himself commended. 
 No richer than his honour: — How he glisters 
 Thoiough my rust ! and how his piety 
 Does my deeds make (he blacker I 
 
 Reenter Paulina. 
 
 Paul. 
 
 Woe the while ! 
 
 O, cut lay lace ; lest my heart, cracking it. 
 Break too ! 
 
 1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady ? 
 
 Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? 
 What wheels ? racks ? fires ? What flaying ? boiling 
 In leads, or oils ? what old, or newer torture 
 Must 1 receive ; whose every word deserves 
 To taste of thy roost worst ? Thy tyranny 
 Together working with thy jealousies, — 
 Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
 For girls of nine i — O, think, what they have doue. 
 And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad ! for all 
 Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
 That thou betray 'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; 
 That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant. 
 And damnable ungrateful : nor was't much, 
 Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour, 
 To have him kill a king; poor trespasses. 
 More mcmstrous standing by : whereof] reckon 
 The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter. 
 To be or none, or little ; though a devil 
 Would have shed water out of fire, ere don't: 
 Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death 
 Of the young prince , whose honourable thoughts 
 (Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the heart 
 'J'liat could conceive, a gross and foolish sire 
 Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not, no, 
 Laid to thy answer : But the last, — O lords, 
 When I have said, cry, woe I — the queen, the qiieeo. 
 The sweetest, dearest creature's dead ; and ven- 
 geance for't 
 Not dropp'd dowu yet. 
 
 1 Lord. The higher powers forbid ! 
 
 Paul. I say, she's dead ; I'll swear't : if word, 
 nor oath, 
 Prevail not, go and see : if you can bring 
 Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye, 
 Heat outwardly, or breath within, I'll serve you 
 As I would do the gods. — But, O thou tyrant! 
 Do not repent these things ; for they are heavier 
 Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake thee 
 To nothing but despair. A thousand knees. 
 Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting. 
 Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
 In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
 To look that way thou wert. 
 
 Leon. Go on, go on : 
 
 Thou canst not speak too much ; I have deserv'd 
 All tongues to talk their bitterest. 
 
 1 Lord. Say no more ; 
 
 Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault 
 I'the boldness of your speech. 
 
 Paul. I am sorry t'or't ; 
 
 All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, 
 I do repent : Alas, I have show'd too nuich 
 The rashness of a woman : he is touch'd [help. 
 
 To the noble heart. — What's gone, and what's past 
 Should be past grief: Do not receive affliction 
 At my petition. 1 beseech you ; rather 
 Let me be punish'd, that have minded you 
 Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege. 
 Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman : 
 The love I bore your queen, — lo, fool again! — 
 I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; 
 I'll not remember you of my own lord. 
 Who is lost too : Take your patience to you. 
 And I'll say nothing. 
 
 Leon. Thou didst speak but well. 
 
 When most the truth ; which I receive much better 
 Than to be pitied of thee Pr'ythee, bring nie 
 To the dead bodies of my queen, and son : 
 One grave shall be for both : upon them shall 
 The causes of their death appear, luito 
 Our shame perpetual : Once a day I'll visit 
 Tlie chapel where they lie ; and tears, slied there. 
 Shall be my recreation : So long as 
 Nature will bear up with this exercise. 
 So lorg I daily vow to use it. Come, 
 And lead me to these sorrows. [Exeunt. 
 
238 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Scene III. — Bo/iemia. A desert Country i^ear the 
 Sea. 
 
 Enter Anticonus, with the Child; and a Mariner. 
 
 Ant. Tlion art perfect tiien, our ship hath touch'd 
 The deserts of Boiiemia ? [upon 
 
 Mar. Ay, my lord ; and lear 
 
 We hitve landed in ill time; the skies look grimly. 
 And tlireaten present blusters. In my conscience. 
 The hen\eiis with that we have in hand are angry. 
 And fiow'i upon us. [aboard ; 
 
 Ant. Their sacred wills be done! — go, get 
 Look to thy hark ; I'll not be long, before 
 I rail u|)oii tliee. 
 
 Mnr. iMiike your best haste ; and go not 
 'i'oo far i'tlie laud ; 'tis like to be loud weather; 
 Besides, this place is famous for the creatures 
 ()l prey, that keep upon't. 
 
 Ant. Go thou away ; 
 
 ni lollow instantly. 
 
 Mar. I am glad at heart 
 
 To be so rid o'the business. [Exit, 
 
 Ant. Come, poor babe : 
 
 I have heard, (but not believ'd,) the spirits of the 
 
 dead 
 May walk again : if such thing he, thy mother 
 Ap|)ear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream 
 So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
 ^Sometimes h.r head on one siile, some another; 
 I never saw a vessel uf like sorrow, 
 So fill'd, and so becoming : in pure white robes, 
 Like very sanctity, she did approach 
 My cabin, where I lay : thrice bow'd before me ; 
 And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
 Became two spouts : the fury spent, anon 
 Did this break from her: Good Antiyonns, 
 Since fate, ayainst thy better diaposition. 
 Hath made thy jterson for the throtver-out 
 Oftny /loor babe, accordinc/ to thine oath, — 
 Places remote enouyh are in Bohemia, 
 There weep, and leave it cryiny ; and, for the babe 
 Is counted lost for ever, Perdda, 
 I pry thee, call t : for this unyentle business. 
 Put on thae by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see 
 Thy wife Paulina more : — and so, with shrieks. 
 She melted into air. AllVighted much, 
 I did in time collect myself; and thouglit 
 This was so, and no slumber. Dieanis are toys : 
 Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously, 
 I will be squar'd by this. 1 do belieie, 
 Hermione hath suftVr'd death; and that 
 Apollo would, (his being indeed the issue 
 Of King Pdlixenes, it should here he laid. 
 Either titr life, or deatli, upon the earth 
 Of its right father. — Blossfim, speed thee well! 
 
 {Layiny down the child) 
 There lie ; and there thy character : there these ; 
 
 [Layiny down a bundle. 
 Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee 
 pretty, [wretch. 
 
 And still rest thine.— The storm begins : — Poor 
 
 That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd 
 
 'Jo loss, and what may follow: — Weep I cannot. 
 
 But my heart bleeds : and most accurs'd am I, 
 
 To be by oath enjoin'd to this. — Farewell ! 
 
 The day frowns more and more ; thou art like to have 
 
 A lullaby too lOugh: 1 never saw 
 
 The heateus so dint by day. A savage clamour? — 
 
 Well may i get aboard I — This is the chace ; 
 
 I am gone iijr ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear. 
 
 Enter an old Shepherd. 
 Skep. I Would, there were no age between ten 
 tnd tliree and twenty ; or that youih would sleep 
 out the rest : for there is nothing in the between 
 but getting wenches with ch.ld, wronging tiie an- 
 cientry, stf-ahng, fi-hting,— Hark you now! 
 
 Would any but tUese boiled branis of nineteen, and 
 two and twenty, hunt this weather? They have 
 scared away two of my best slieep ; which, I fear. 
 
 the wolf will sooner find, tlian tlie master: if any- 
 where I have tliem, 'tis by the seaside, browziug 
 ou ivy. Gootl luck, an't be thv will ! what have 
 we here? [Takiny up the child.) Mercy ou's, a 
 barue ; a very pretty barne ! A boy, or a child, 1 
 wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one : Sure, 
 some scape : though I am not bookish, yet I can 
 read waiting gentlewoman in the soape. 'i'liis has 
 been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some be- 
 hind-door-work : they were warmer, that got this, 
 than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up lor pity : 
 yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hollaed but eveo 
 now. Whoa, ho boa ! 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Hilloa, loa! 
 
 Shep. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing 
 to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come 
 hither. What ailest thou, man? 
 
 Clo. I h.Tve seen two such siglits, by sta, and by 
 land ; — but I am not to say, it is a sea, for it is now 
 the sky ; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot 
 thrust a bodkin's point. 
 
 Shep. Why, boy, hovv is it? 
 
 Clo. I would, you did but see how it chafes, how 
 it rages, hovv it takes up the shore ! but that's not 
 to the point : O, the most piteous cry of the poor 
 souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: 
 now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast: 
 and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd 
 thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the 
 land-service, — To see how the bear tore out his 
 shoulder-bone , how he cried to me for help, and 
 said, his name was Antigonus, a nobleman : — But 
 to make an end of the ship : — to see how the sea 
 flap-dragoned it: — but, first, how the poor souls 
 roared, and the sea mocked them ; — and how the 
 poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, 
 both roaring louder than the sea, or weather. 
 
 Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? 
 
 Clo. Now, now ; I have not winked since I saw 
 these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, 
 nor the bear half dined on the gentleman ; he's at it 
 now. 
 
 Shep. Would I had been by, to have helped the 
 old man ! 
 
 Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to 
 have helped her; there your charity would have 
 lacked footing. [Aside.) 
 
 Shep. Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but look 
 thee here , boy. Now bless thyself; fhju luet'st 
 with things flying, I with things new horu. Here's 
 a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a 
 squire's child ! Look thee here; take up, take up, 
 boy ; open't. So, let's see ; It was told me, I 
 should be rich by the fairies: this is some change- 
 ling : — open't : what's within, boy ? 
 
 Clo. You're a made old man; if the sins of your 
 youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold) 
 all gold! 
 
 Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so : 
 up with it, keep it close; home, home, the next 
 w.iy. We are lucky, boy, and to be so still, re- 
 quires nothing but iiecrecy. — Let my sheep go: — 
 Come, good boy, the next way home. 
 
 Clo. Go you the next way with your findings; 
 I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, 
 and how much he hat'i eaten: they are never curst, 
 but when they are hungry: if there beany ofiiim 
 left. I'll bury it. 
 
 Shep. 'I'hat's a good deed : If thou may'st discern 
 by that which is letlofhim, wiiat he is, fetch ine (o 
 the sight of him. [Iiim i'tiie ground. 
 
 Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put 
 
 Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good 
 deeds on't. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Time, as Chorus. 
 Time. I, — that please some, try all ; both joy, and 
 tei-ror. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 239 
 
 Of go d and bad ; that make, and unfold error, 
 I^Ow take »\><>n me, in tlie name of Tiiiie, 
 To use my wings. Impute it not a crime, 
 I'o me, or ii:y swift passage, that 1 slide 
 O'er sixteen ye^irs, ami leave the growth untried 
 Of that wide gap; since it is in my power 
 i'o o'erthrow law, and in one sell i>orn hour 
 To plant ami o'erwhelm custom : Let me pass 
 The sanie 1 am, ere ancient'st order was. 
 Or what is now received : I witness to 
 The times that brought them in; sn shall I do 
 To tlie freshest thinf;s now reigning ; and make stale 
 The glistering of this present, as my tale 
 Now seems to it. Your patience tliis allowing, 
 [ turn my giass : and give my scene such growing, 
 Xs you bid slept between. Leoutes leaving 
 The ertVcts of his fond jealousies ; so grieving, 
 Tiiat he shuts up himself; imagine me, 
 Gentle spectators, that 1 now may be 
 In fair Bolieniia , and remember well. 
 f mentioned a son o'tlie king's, which Florizel 
 I now name to you ; and with speed so pace 
 To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace 
 Equal with wnnd'ring: what of her ensues, 
 I list nut prophecy ; but let Time's ne«.s 
 Be known, when 'tis brought forth: — a shepherd's 
 
 d lughler. 
 And what to her adheres, which follows after. 
 Is the argument of time : Of tliis allow, 
 If ever you have spent lime worse ere now; 
 If never yet, that Time himself doth say. 
 He wishes earnestly, you never may. \_Exil. 
 
 Sc&NE I. — The same. A Room in the Palace 
 of Polixenes. 
 
 Enter Polixenes and Camillo. 
 
 Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more im- 
 portunate : 'tis a sickness, denying thee any thing ; 
 a deatli, to grant this. 
 
 Cam. It is fifteen years, since I saw my country : 
 thongli I have, for the most part, been aired abroad, 
 I desire to lay niy bones tiiere. Beside.*, the peni- 
 tent king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose 
 feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or i o'er- 
 ween to think so; which is another spur 'o my 
 departure. 
 
 Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out 
 the rest of thy services, by leaving me now : the 
 need I have of thee, thine own goodness hath made; 
 better not to have had tiiee, than thus to want thee : 
 thou, having made me businesses, which none, with- 
 out thee, can siifticiently manage, must either stay 
 to execute tliem thyself, or take away with thee 
 the very services thou hast done: which, if I have 
 not enough considered, (as too much I cannot,) to be 
 more thankful to thee, shall be my study ; and my 
 profit tlieiein, the heaping friendships. Of that fatal 
 country Sicilia, pr'ythee speak no more : whose very 
 naming punishes me with the remembrance of that 
 penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king, 
 my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen, 
 and children, are even now to be afresh lamented. 
 Say to me, when saw'st thou the prince Florizel, 
 my son :* Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not 
 being gracious, than they are in losing tiiem, when 
 they have approved their virtues. 
 
 Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince : 
 IVhat his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : 
 t)ut I have, missingly, noted, he is of late much re- 
 tired from court; and is less Ireqiient to his princely 
 exercisfs, than formerly he hath appeared. 
 
 Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo; and 
 with some care; so I'ar, tiiat I have eyes under my 
 services, whicii look uiion his removediiess : from 
 whum 1 have tiiis intelligence ; That he is seldom 
 from tlie house of a most iiomely shepherd ; a man, 
 they say, that from very nothing, and beyond tlie 
 imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an un- 
 speakable estate. 
 
 Cam. I have beard, sir, of such a man who hath 
 
 a daughter of most rare note ; the report of her is 
 extended more, than can be thought to begin from 
 such a cottage. 
 
 Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But, 
 I fear the angle that plucks our son thitlier. Thou 
 shalt accompany us to the place : where we will, not 
 appearing what we are, nave some question with 
 the shepherd ; from whose simplicity, I think it n'lt 
 uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. 
 Pr'ythee, be my present partner in this business, 
 ana lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. 
 
 Cam. I willingly obey your command. 
 
 Pol. My best Camillo 1 — We must disguise our- 
 selves. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Road near the Shepherd's 
 Cottage. 
 
 Enter Adtolycus, singing. 
 When daffodils begin to peer, 
 
 With, heigh ! the doxy over the dale, — 
 Why. then comes in the sweet o'the year ; 
 
 For the red blood reigns in the tvinter's pale. 
 
 The tvhite sheet bleaching oft the hedge, — 
 
 With, hey! the sweet birds, 0, how they sing! — 
 
 Doth set my pugying tooth on edge ; 
 For a quart of ale is a dish for a Icing. 
 
 The lark, that tirra lirra chants, — 
 
 ff itk, hey! with, hey! the thrush and the jay : — 
 Are summer songs for me and my aunts, 
 
 While we lie tumbling in the hay. 
 
 I have served prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore 
 three pile: but now I am out of service : 
 
 But shall I go mourn for that, my dear ? 
 
 The pale moon shines by night : 
 And, when I ivander here ana there, 
 
 I then do most go right. 
 
 If tinlcers may have leave to live 
 And bear the sow-skin budget ; 
 
 Then my account I well may give. 
 And in the stocks avouch it. 
 
 My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to 
 lesser linen. My father named me, Aiitolyciis; 
 who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was 
 likewise a sna|iper-up of unconsidered trities : With 
 die, and drab, 1 purchased this caparison; and my 
 revenue is the silly cheat: Gallows, aud knock, are 
 too powerf il on the highway : beating, and hanging, 
 are terrors to me; for the life to come, I sleep out 
 the thought o{ it. — A prize ! a prize ! 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Let me see : — Every 'leven wether — tods ; 
 every tod yields — pound and odd shilling : filteen 
 hundred shorn, — VVhat comes the wool to? 
 
 Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. {Aside.) 
 
 Clo. I cannot do't without counters.— Let me 
 see; what am I to buy for our sheep shearing feast? 
 Three poinid of sugar; Jive pound of currants: 
 rice, — What will this sister of mine do with rice? 
 But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, 
 and she lays it on. She hath made me four-and- 
 twenty nosegays for the shearers : three-man song- 
 men all, and very good ones; but they are most of 
 them means and bases: but one I'uritan amongst 
 tliem, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must 
 have saffron, to colour the warden pies; mace, — 
 dates. — none; that's out of my note: nutmegs, 
 seven; a race, or two, of ginger; but that 1 may 
 beg -.—four pound of prunes, and as many oj 
 raisins o'the sun. 
 
 Aut. O, that ever T was born ! 
 
 {Grovelling on the ground.) 
 
 Clo. I'the name of me, 
 
 Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but oflf these 
 rags ; and then, death, death ! 
 
 Clo. Alack, poor .soul ! thou ha.st need of more 
 rags to lay on thee, rather than have these oflf. 
 
 Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them olTends 
 
240 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 me more than the stripes I have received, which are 
 
 iiii^jhty oiie.s, iiiid iniilioiis. 
 
 Clo. Alas, puiirrnan! a million of beating may 
 come to a great matter. 
 
 Aut. I am rubbed, sir, and beaten ; my money 
 and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable 
 things put npon me. 
 
 Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man ? 
 
 Aut. A footman, sweet sir, a foot-man. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the gar- 
 ments he hath letl with thee : if this be a horse- 
 man's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me 
 thy hand, I'll lielp thee : coiiie, lend me thy hand. 
 
 {Helping him up.) 
 
 Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, oh! 
 
 Clo. Alas, poor soul. 
 
 Aiil. O ! good sir, softly, good sir : I fear, sir, 
 my slioiilderblade is out. 
 
 Clo. How now ? canst stand ? 
 
 Aut. Softly, dear sir; (picks hi.s pocket.) good 
 sir, soltly ; yuu ha' done me a charilable office. 
 
 Clo. Dost lack any money ? I ha\e a little money 
 for thee. 
 
 Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: 
 I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile 
 hence, unto whom I was going; 1 shall there have 
 money, or any thing I want. Offer me no money, I 
 pray you : that kills my heart. [you? 
 
 Clo. What manner of fellow was he tliat robbed 
 
 Aut. .\ fellow, sir," tliat 1 have known to go about 
 with trol-my-dames : 1 knew him once a servant of 
 tlie prince;" I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his 
 virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of 
 the court. 
 
 Clo. His vices, you would say ; there's no v irtue 
 whipped out of court : they chei ish it, to make it 
 stay there : and yet it will no more but abide. 
 
 Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man 
 well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a 
 process-server, a bailitl"; then he compassed a mo- 
 tion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife 
 within a mjle where my land and living lies, and, 
 having flown over many knavish professions, he set- 
 tled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. 
 
 Clo. Out upon him! Prig, for my life, prig: he 
 Jiauuts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. 
 
 Aut. Very true, si<-; he, sir, he; that's the rogue 
 that put me into this apparel. 
 
 Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; 
 if you iiad but looked big, and spit at hmi, he'd have 
 run. 
 
 Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: 
 I am false of heart, that way; and that he knew, I 
 warrant hiui. 
 
 Clo. How do you now ? 
 
 Aut- Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can 
 etand, and walk : I will even take my leave of you, 
 and pace softly towards my kinsman's. 
 
 Clo. Shall 1 bring thee on the way i 
 
 Aut. No, good faced sir; no, sweet sir. 
 
 Clo. Then fare thee well ; I must go buy spices 
 for our sheep-shearing. 
 
 Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir! — [Exit Clown.'}— 
 \ our purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice, 
 ril be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I 
 make not this cheat bring out another, and the 
 shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my 
 name put in the book of virtue ! 
 
 Jog on. jog on, the foot-path waif. 
 And merrily hent the stile a ■ 
 
 A merry heart goes all the day. 
 Your sad tires in a niile-a. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene III._r^e some. A Shepherd's Cottage. 
 Enter Florizel and Perdita. 
 Flo. These your unu.sual weeds to each part of you 
 Do give a IB'e: no shepherdess; but Flora 
 Peering in April's fiont. Tiiis your sheep-shearing 
 is as a meeting of the petty gods. 
 
 And you the queen on't 
 
 Per. Sir, my gracious lord. 
 
 To chide at your extremes, it not becomes me ; 
 O, pardon, that I name them : your high self, 
 ^J'he gracious mark o'the land, you have obscur'd. 
 With a swain's wearing ; and me, poor lowly maid. 
 Most goddess-like prank'd up : but that our feasts 
 In every mess have folly, and the feeders 
 Digest it with a custom, I should blush 
 To see you so attired ; sworn, I think, 
 To show myself a glass. 
 
 Flo. I bless the time. 
 
 When my good falcon made her liight acro.ss 
 Thy father's ground. 
 
 Per. Now Jove aflbrd you cause. 
 
 To me, the difference forges dread ; your greatues 
 Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I trt-mbie 
 To think, your father, by some accident, 
 Should pass this way, as you did : O, the fates ! 
 How would he look, to see his work, so noble. 
 Vilely bound up 'i" What would he say'? Or how 
 Should I, in these my borrow'd Haunts, behold 
 The sternness of his presence '? 
 
 Flo. Apprehend 
 
 Nothing but jollity. The gods themselv es. 
 Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
 The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter 
 Became a bull, and beilow'd ; the green Neptune 
 A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-rob'd god. 
 Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain. 
 As I seem now : Their transformations 
 Were never for a piece of beauty rarer; 
 Nor in a way so chaste : since my desires 
 Run not befisre mine honour; nor my lusts 
 liurn hotter than my faith. 
 
 Per. O but, dear sir. 
 
 Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis 
 Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power o'the king : 
 One of these two must be necessities. 
 Which then will speak ; that you must change liiis 
 
 purpose. 
 Or I my life. 
 
 Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, 
 
 With tliese forc'd thoughts, I i)r'ythee, darken not 
 The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be thine, my lair. 
 Or not my father's; for I cannot be 
 Mine own, nor any thing to any, if 
 I be not thine : to this I am most constant, 
 Though destiny say, no. Be merry, gentle ; 
 Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing 
 That you behold the while. Your guests are coming : 
 Lift up your countenance ; as it were the day 
 Of celebration of that nuptial, which 
 We two have sworn shall come. 
 
 Per. O lady fortune. 
 
 Stand you auspicious ! 
 
 Enter Shepherd, with Pouxenes and Camillo, 
 disguised; Clown, MopsK, DoRCXS, and others. 
 
 Flo. See, your guests approach • 
 
 Address yourself to entertain them sprightly. 
 And let's be red with mirth. 
 
 Shep. Fy, daughter! when my old wife liv d, upon 
 This (lay, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; 
 Both dame and servant : welcom'd all ; sen'd all : 
 Would sing her song, and dance her turn : noiv 
 
 here, 
 At upper end o'the table, now, i'the middle; 
 On his shoulder, and his; her face o'tire 
 With labour; and the thing, she took to quench it. 
 She would to each one sip : You are letir'd. 
 As if you were a feasted one, and not 
 The hostess of the meeting; Pray you, bid 
 These unknown fi lends to us welcome : f<ir it is 
 A way to make us better friends, more known. 
 Come, quench your blushes; and preseiit youis^-lf 
 That which yon are, mi.stress o'the feast : Come on, 
 And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing. 
 As your good flock shall prosper. 
 
 Per. Welcome, sir! {To PoL'xenes.) 
 
ScEyE 3. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 241 
 
 It is my father's will, I should take on me 
 The hostess-ship o'the day: — You're welcome, sir! 
 
 (To Camil/o.) 
 Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Kevereiid 
 
 sirs. 
 For you there's rosemary, and rue : these keep 
 Seeming, and savour, ail the winter long ; 
 Grace, and remembrance, be to you both. 
 And welcome to our shearing I 
 
 Pol, Shepherdess, 
 
 I A fair one are you,) well you fit onr ages 
 VVith flowers of winter. 
 
 Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, — 
 
 Nor yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
 Of trembling winter, — the fairest flowers o'the 
 
 season 
 Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers, 
 Whicii some call nature's bastards: of that kiud 
 Our rustic garden's barren ; and 1 care not 
 'J'o get slips of them. 
 
 Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 
 
 Do you neglect them? 
 
 Per. For I have heard it said. 
 
 There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares 
 With great creating nature. 
 
 Pol. Say, there be ; 
 
 Vet nature is made better by no mean. 
 But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art, 
 Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art 
 That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry 
 A gentler scion to the wildest stock ; 
 And make conceive a bark of bast-r kind 
 By bud of nobler race ; This is an art 
 Which dof s mend nature, — change it rather : but 
 'i'lie art itself is nature. 
 
 Per. So it is. 
 
 Pol. Then make your garden rich in gillyflowers, 
 .\nd do not call them bastards. 
 
 Per I'll not put 
 
 The dibble in earth to set one s\ir> of them : 
 No more than, were I painted, I would wish 
 This youth should say, 'twere well ; aud only there- 
 lore 
 Pesire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you ; 
 Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; 
 Tlie marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, 
 And with him rises weeping ; these are flowers 
 Of middle summer, and, I tliink, they are given 
 To mfn of middle age : Vou are very welcome. 
 
 Caf/i. 1 should leave grazing, were I of your flock, 
 And only live oy gazing. 
 
 Per. Oiit, alas ! 
 
 You'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
 Would blow you tiirough and through. — Now, my 
 
 fairest friend, 
 I would I had some flowers o'the spring, that might 
 Become your time of day ; and yours, and yours ; 
 That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
 Your mai ienheads growing : — O Proserpina, 
 For the flowers now, that, i'righted, thou let'st fall 
 From Dis's waggon ! daflodils. 
 That come before the swallow dares, and take 
 The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim, 
 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. 
 Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses. 
 That die immarried, ere they can behold 
 Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady 
 Most incident to maids: bold oxlips, and 
 The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds. 
 The flower de-luce being one ! O. these I lack. 
 To make you girlands of; and, my sweet friend, 
 To st:ew hiui o'er and o'er. 
 
 Flo. ^ What? like a corse? 
 
 Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on; 
 Not like a corse : or if, — not to be buried. 
 But qiiick, and in mine arms. Come, take your 
 
 flowers : 
 Methinks I play as I have seen them do 
 In Wliilsnn' pastorals : sure, this robe of mine 
 Does cliaiige my dispositioa 
 
 Flo. What you do. 
 
 Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. 
 I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, 
 I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms ; 
 Pray so ; and, for the ordering your aflairs. 
 To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish yiw 
 A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do 
 Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own 
 No other function : Each your doing. 
 So singular in each particular, 
 Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds 
 1 hat all your acts are queens. 
 
 Per. O Doricles, 
 
 Your praises are too large : but that your youth, 
 And the trne blood, which fairly peeps through it. 
 Do plainly give you out an unstaind shepherd; 
 VVith wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, 
 Yon woo'd nie the false way. 
 
 Flo. I think, you have 
 
 As little skill to fear, as I have purpose 
 To put you tot. — But, come; our dance, I pray: 
 Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair, 
 That never mean to part. 
 
 Per. I'll swear for 'em. 
 
 Pvl. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
 Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does, or seems, 
 But smacks of something greater than herself; 
 'J'oo noble (or this place. 
 
 Cam. He tells her something 
 That makes her blood look out: Good sooth, she 16 
 The queen of curds and cream. 
 
 Clo. Come on, strike up, 
 
 l)or. IMopsa must be your mistress : marry, garlic. 
 To mend her kissing with. — 
 
 Mop. Now, in good time I 
 
 Clo. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our 
 nianuers. — 
 Come, strike up. [IMitsic. 
 
 Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. 
 
 Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what 
 Fair swain is this, wliicli dances with your daughter':' 
 
 Shep. They call iiim Doricles; and he boasts 
 himself 
 To have a worthy feeding: but I litMe it 
 Upon his own report, and I believe it; 
 He looks like sooth : He says, lielo\es my daughter ; 
 I think so too; for never gaz'd tlie moon 
 Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
 As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
 I think, there is not half a kiss to choose. 
 Who loves another best. 
 
 Pol. She dances featly. 
 
 Shep. So she does any thing; though 1 report it. 
 That should be silent : if young Doricles 
 Do light upon her, she shall bring him that. 
 Which he not dreams of. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at 
 the door, you would never dance again after a tabor 
 and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not mo^e you : he 
 sings several tunes, faster than you'll fell money ,* he 
 utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all nieo's 
 ears grew to his tunes. 
 
 Clo. He could never come better : he shall coaip 
 in : I love a ballad but even too well ; if it be dolefnl 
 matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing 
 indeed, and sung lamentably. 
 
 Serv. He hatli songs, for man, or woman, of all 
 sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with 
 gloves : he has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; so 
 without bawdry, which is strange; with such deli 
 cate burdens of dildos and fadings : jump kef 
 and thump her; and where some stretch-mouth'd 
 rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and break 
 a foul gao into the matter, he makes the maid to 
 answer, il^ hoop, do me no harm, gooilman; puts 
 him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, 
 good man. 
 
 Pol. This is a brave fellow. 
 
 Id 
 
242 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Acr TV, 
 
 Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable- 
 C'jnceiled fellow. H;i.s he any iinbraided wares? 
 
 Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours i'the 
 rtiubow; points, more tiiaii all the lawyers in Bo- 
 hemia can learnedly handle, though they come to 
 him by the gross; inkles, caddisses, cambrics, 
 lawns : why, he sings them over, as they were gods 
 or goddesses; you would think, a smock were a 
 she-angel ; he so chants to the sleeve-hand, and the 
 work about the square on't. 
 
 (Jlo. Pr'yttiee, bring him in ; and let him approach 
 singing. 
 
 Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous 
 words in his tunes. 
 
 Clo. You have of these pediers, that have more 
 in 'em than you'd think, sister. 
 
 Per. Ay, good brother, or go about tc think. 
 
 Enter Autolycus, singing. 
 
 Laiun; as white as driven snoiu ; 
 Cyprus, black OS e'er tvas crow; 
 Gloves, as sweet as damask roses ; 
 Masks for faces, and for noses; 
 Bugle bracelet, ttecklace-amber, 
 Perfume for a lady's chamber : 
 Golden quo/fs, and stomachers, 
 For my lads to give their dears ; 
 Pins, and poking-sticks of steel, 
 If^hat tnaids lack from head to heel : 
 Come, buy of me, come ; conie buy, come buy; 
 liny lads, or else your lasses cry ; 
 Come, buy, &c. 
 
 Clo. If I vvere not in love with Mopsa, thou 
 shonld'st take no money of me ; but being enthrall'd 
 as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ri- 
 bands and gloves. 
 
 Mop. I was promised them against the feast ; but 
 they come not too late now. 
 
 JJor. He hath promised you more than that, or 
 there be liars. 
 
 3Top. He hath paid you all he promised you ; may 
 be, he has paid you more ; which will shame you to 
 give him again. 
 
 ^Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? will 
 Ihey wear their plackets, where they should bear 
 their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are 
 going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle oti" these se- 
 crets ; but you must be tittle-tattling before all our 
 guests '!• 'Tis we<ll they are whispering : Clamour 
 your tongues, and not a word more. 
 
 Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a 
 tawdry-lace, and a pair of sweet gloves. 
 
 Clo. Have I not told thee, kow 1 was cozened by 
 (he way, and lost all my money ? 
 
 Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad ; 
 therefore it behoves men to be wary. 
 
 Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing 
 here. 
 
 Aui. I hope so, sir ; for I ha\se about me manj' 
 parcels of charge. 
 
 Clo. What hast here? ballads? 
 
 Mop. I'ray now, buy some : J love a ballad in 
 print, a'-life i for then we are sure they are true. 
 
 Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a 
 iurer's wife was brorght to bed of twenty money- 
 ags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat adder's 
 Leads, and toads carbonadoed. 
 
 Mop. Is it true, think you? 
 
 Au.t. Very true; and but a month old. 
 
 Dor. Bless me trom marrying a usurer ! 
 
 Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress 
 Taleporter; and five or-six honest wives' that were 
 present: Why should Lcarry lies abroad? 
 
 Mop. 'Pray you now, buy iL 
 
 Clo. Come on, lay it by ; And let's fust see more 
 ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. 
 
 Aui. Here's another ballad. Of a fish that ap- 
 peared upon the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore 
 of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and 
 
 sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: 
 it was thought, she was a woman, and was turned 
 into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh 
 with one that loved her : The ballad is very pitiful, 
 and as true. 
 
 Dor. Is it true too, think you ? 
 
 Aut. Fi\e justices' hands at it; and witnesses, 
 more than my pack will hold 
 
 Clo. Lay it by too : Another. 
 
 Aut. Tills is a merry ballad ; but a very pretty one. 
 
 Mop. Let's have some merry ones. 
 
 Aut. Why, this is a |)assing merry one ; and goes 
 to the tune of, Ttvo maids wooing a man : there's 
 scarce a maid westward, but she sings it; 'tis id 
 request, I can tell you. 
 
 Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a part, 
 thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. 
 
 Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago. 
 
 Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 'tis my 
 occupation : ha\e at it witli you. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 A. Get you hence, for I tnust go; 
 Where, it fits not you to knotv. 
 D. Whither/ M O. whither ?D. Whither f 
 M. It becomes thy oath full tvell 
 Thou to me thy secrets tell : 
 I). Me too, let me go thither 
 
 M. Or thou go'st to tiie grange, or mill: 
 D. If to either, thou dost ill. 
 
 A. Neither. D TVhat. neither? A. Neither. 
 1). Thou hast sworn my love to be ; 
 jM. Thou hast sworn it more to me : 
 
 Then, ivhdher go'st ! say, whither? 
 
 Clo. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: 
 My father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and 
 we'll not trouble them : Come, bring away thy pack 
 after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both : Pedler, 
 let's have the first choice. — Follow me, girls. 
 
 Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside.) 
 
 TVill you buy any tape. 
 
 Or lace for your cape. 
 My dainty duck, my dear-a? 
 
 Any silk, any thread. 
 
 Any toys for your head. 
 Of the new'st, and fin st, finest wear-a? 
 
 Come to the pedler ; 
 
 Money's a medler, 
 That doth utter all men's ivare-a. 
 
 [Exetint Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and Mopsa. 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shep- 
 herds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have 
 made themselves all men of hair; they call them- 
 selves saltiers : and they have a dance which the 
 wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because 
 they are not in't; but they themselves are o'the 
 mind (if it be not too rough for some, that know little 
 but bowling,) it will please plentifully. 
 
 Shep. Away ! we'll none on't ; here has been too 
 much humble foolery already : — I know, sir, we 
 weary you. 
 
 Pol. You weary those that refresh us: Pray, let's 
 see these four threes of herdsmen. 
 
 Serv. One three of them, by their own report, 
 sir, hath danced before the king ; and not the worst 
 of the three, but jumps twelve foot and a half by 
 the squire. 
 
 Shep. Leave your prating ; since these good men 
 are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. 
 
 Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Servant, with twelve Rustics, habited 
 like Satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt. 
 
 Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that here- 
 after. — 
 Is it not too far gone ? — 'Tis time to part them. — 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 il+o 
 
 He's siin|>!e, and tells much. [Asid';.) How now, 
 
 lair shepherd ? 
 Voiir heart is full of sometliina:, that does take 
 Vixir mind from feaslin?. Sootli, when I was young, 
 And handed love, as yon do, I was wont 
 'I'o load my she with knacks : I wonid have ransack'd 
 The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it 
 To her acceptance ; yon have let him go. 
 And nothing marted with him : If your lass 
 Interpretation should abuse ; and call this, 
 Your lack of love, or bounty ; you were straited 
 For a reply, at least, if you make a care 
 Of happy holding her. 
 
 fyo. Old sir, r know 
 
 She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
 The gilts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd 
 Up in my heart; which I have given already, 
 lint not deliver'd. — O, hear ine breathe my life 
 Hefore tiiis ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
 Hath sometime lov'd : I take thy hand ; tliis hand. 
 As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; 
 Or Ethiopian's footh, or the fann'd snow. 
 That's bolted bv the northern blasts twice o'er. 
 
 Pol. What follows this ?— 
 How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
 The hand, was fair before! — I have put you out: — 
 But, to your protestation ; let me hear 
 V\ hat you profess. 
 
 Flo. Do, and be witness to't. 
 
 Pol. And this my neighbour too f 
 
 Flo. And he, and more 
 
 Than he, and men ; the earth, the heavens, and all : 
 That, — were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, 
 IMiereof most worthy; were I the fairest youtii 
 That ever made eye swerve ; had force, and know- 
 ledge. 
 More than was ever man's, — I would not prize them, 
 VV^ithout her love : for her, employ them all ; 
 Commend them, and condenm them, to her service. 
 Or to their own perdition. 
 
 Pol. Fairly oflfer'd. 
 
 Cam. This shows a sound ati'ecfion. 
 
 Shep. But, my daughter. 
 
 Say you the like to him ? 
 
 Per. I cannot speak 
 
 So Well, nothing so well ; no, nor mean better: 
 By the pattern of mine own thoughts J cut out 
 The purity of his. 
 
 Skep. Take hands, a bargain ; — 
 
 And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't: 
 I give my daughter to him, and will make 
 Her portion equal his. 
 
 Flo. O, that must be 
 
 I'the virtue of yonr daughter : one being dead^ 
 I shall have more than you can dream of yet; 
 Enough then for your wonder : But, come on. 
 Contract us 'fore these witnesses. 
 
 Shep. Come, your hand ; — 
 
 And, daughter, yours. 
 
 Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you ; 
 
 Have you a father ? 
 
 Flo. I have : But what of him ? 
 
 Pol. Knows he of this? 
 
 Flo. He neither does, nor shall. 
 
 Pol. Methinks, a father , 
 
 Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
 That best becomes the table. Pray yoii, once more ; 
 Is not y^ur father grown incapable 
 Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid 
 With age, and altering rheums ? Can he speak \' hear? 
 Know man from man ? dispute his own estate i 
 Lies he not bed- rid ? and again does nothing. 
 But what be did being childish ? 
 
 Flo. No, good sir : 
 
 He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed. 
 Than most have of his age. 
 
 Pol. By my white beard. 
 
 You offer him, if this be so, a wrong 
 Something unfilial: Reason, my son 
 \Shoul,i choose himself a wife ; but as good reason. 
 
 The father (all whose joy is nolhing else 
 But fair posterity,) should hold some counacl 
 In such a biisiiRSS. 
 
 Flo. I yield all this; 
 
 But. for some other reasons, my grave sir. 
 Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint 
 My father of this business. 
 
 Pol. Let him know't. 
 
 Flo. He shall not. , 
 Pol. Pr'ythee, let liim, 
 
 Flo. No, he must not. 
 
 Skep. Let him, my son ; he shall not need to grieve 
 At knowing of tliy choice. 
 
 Flo. Come, come, he must not :— 
 
 Mark our contract. 
 
 Pol. Mark your <livorce, young sir, 
 
 ( Discovering himself.) 
 Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
 To be acknowledg'd : Thou a sceptre's heir. 
 That thus aflect'st a sheep-hook ! — Thou, old traitor, 
 I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can but 
 Shorten thy life one week. — And thou, fresh })iece 
 Of excellent witchcraft ; who, of force, must know 
 The royal fool thou cop'.st with ; — 
 
 Shep. O, my heart ! 
 
 Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briar.s, 
 and made 
 More homely than fiiy state. — For thee, fond boy, — 
 If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh. 
 That thou no more shaft see this knack, (as never 
 I mean thou shalt,j we'll bar thee from succession; 
 Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin. 
 Far than Deucalion ofi': — Mark thou my words; 
 Follow us to the court. — Thou churl, for this time. 
 Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee 
 From the dread blow of it. And you, enchantment, — 
 Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too. 
 That makes himself, but for our honour therein, 
 IJTiworthy thee, — if ever, henceforth, thou 
 These rural latches to his entrance open. 
 Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
 I will devise a death as cruel for thee, 
 As thou art tender to't. [Exit. 
 
 Per. Even here undone ! 
 
 I was not much afeard : for once, o» twice, 
 I was about to speak ; and tell him plainly. 
 The self-same sun, that shines upon his court, 
 Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
 Looks on alike. — Will't please you, sir, be gone ? 
 
 {To Florizel.) 
 I told you, what would come of this : Beseech you, 
 Of your own state take care : this dream of mine, — 
 Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further. 
 But milk my ewes, and weep. * 
 
 Cam. ' Why, how now, father r 
 
 Speak, ere thou diest. 
 
 Shep. I cannot speak, nor think. 
 
 Nor dare to know that which I know. — O. sir, 
 
 {To Florizel] 
 You have undone a man of fourscore three. 
 That thought to fill his grave in quiet ; yea, 
 To die upon the bed my father died. 
 To lie close by his honest bones : but now 
 S(mie hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me 
 Where no priest shovels in dust.— O cursed wretch ! 
 ^ {ToPerdita.) 
 
 That knew'st this was the prince, and would'st ad- 
 venture 
 To mingle faith with him.— Undone ! undone ! 
 If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd 
 To die when I desire. [Exit. 
 
 Flo. Why look you so upon me r 
 
 I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay'd, 
 But nothing alter'd : What I was, I am : 
 More straining on, for plucking back ; not followiny 
 My leash unwillingly. 
 
 Cam. Gracious my lord. 
 
 You know your father's temper : at this time 
 He will allow no speech, — which, I do guess 
 You do not purpose to him ; — and as hardly 
 
244 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Will he endare your Stght as yet, I fear: 
 Then, till the fiiiy of his highness settle. 
 Come not before him. 
 
 Flo. I not purpose it, 
 
 I think, Camillo. 
 
 Cam. Even he, my lord. 
 
 Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be thus ? 
 How often said, my dignity would last 
 But till 'twere known r 
 
 Flo. It cannot fail, but by 
 
 The violation of my fiiith : And then 
 Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together, 
 And mar the seeds witiiin ! — Lift up thy looks: — 
 From my successi>)n wipe me, lather! 1 
 Am heir to thy alfectiou. 
 
 Cam. Beadvis'd. 
 
 Flo. I am ; and by my fancy : if my reason 
 Wdl thereto be obedient, 1 have reason ; 
 If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness. 
 Do bid it welcome, 
 
 Cam. This is desperate, sir. 
 
 Flo. So call it: but it does fullil my vow ; 
 I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, 
 Nor for Bohemia^ nor the pomp that may 
 Be thereat f-lean'd ; for all the sun sees, or 
 'J'he close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide 
 In unknown fathoms, wdl I break my oath 
 To this my fair beloVd : Therefore, 1 pray yoti. 
 As you ha\e ever been my father's honour'd friend. 
 When he shall miss me (as, in faith, 1 mean not 
 To see him any more,) cast your good counsels 
 Upon his passion: Let myself and tbrtune 
 Tug for the time to come. This you may know, 
 Atid so deliver. I aui put to sea 
 With her. whom here I cannot hold on shore ; 
 And, most opportune to our need, I have 
 A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd 
 For this design. Wiiat course 1 mean to hold. 
 Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
 Concern me the reporting. 
 
 Cam. O, my lord, 
 
 I wo, lid your spirit were easier tor advice. 
 Or stronger for your need. 
 
 Flo. Hark, Perdita.— {Takes her aside.) 
 
 I'll iiear you by *ud by. (To Camillo.) 
 
 Cam. He's irremovable, 
 
 Resolv'd for flight: Now were I happy, if 
 His going I could frame to serve my turn ; 
 Save him from danger, do him love and honour ; 
 Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia, 
 /^nd that unhappy king, my master, whom 
 I so much thirst to see. 
 
 Flo. Now. good Camillo, 
 
 I am so fraught with curious business, that 
 I leave out ceremony. • {Going.) 
 
 Cam. Sir, F think. 
 
 Yon have heard of my poor services, i'the love 
 Thnt I have borne your lather ? 
 
 Flo, Very nobly 
 
 Ha\e you deserv'd : it is my father's music. 
 To speak your deeds: not little ol his care 
 '1 o have them recompens'd as thought on. 
 
 Cam. VVell, my lord. 
 
 If ymi may please to think I love the king; 
 Ami, ihiougli him, what is nearest to him, which is 
 V our gracious self; embrace but my direction, 
 (Jf your more ponderous and settled project 
 Mty sutler alteration,) on mine iiunoiir 
 I'll point you where you shall have such receiving 
 As snail become your highness; where you may 
 F,iij«y your mistress ; (from the whom, 1 see, 
 Tlufre s no disjunction to be made, but by, 
 As heavens loiefend 1 your ruin:) marry her; 
 And (with my best endeavours, in your absence,) 
 Your djswjiiteutliig father strive to qualify, 
 And bring him up to liking. 
 
 Flo. How, Camillo, 
 
 M:iv this, almost a miracle, be done? 
 Tii'it 1 may call thee soint thing more than man. 
 And, after that, trust tu thee. 
 
 Cam. Have you thoojj^ht on 
 
 A place, whrreto you'll go '! 
 
 Flo. Not !\ny yet: 
 But as ttie uutlioiiglit-on accident is guilty 
 To what we wildly do; so we profess 
 Ourselves to be the slaves of ciiance, and fliea 
 Of every wind, that blows. 
 
 Ca7n. Then list to me : 
 
 This follows, — if you will not change your purpose. 
 But undergo this flight; — make for Sicilia • 
 And there present yourself, and your fi.ir princess, 
 (For so, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes, 
 She shall be habited, as it becomes 
 'I'he partner of your bed. Methinks, I see 
 Leonles, opening his free arms, and weeping 
 His welcomes foith : asks thee, the son, forgiveness. 
 As 'twere i'the Other's person : kisses the hands 
 Of your fresh princess o'er and o'er divides him 
 'Twist his unkindness and his kindness; the one 
 He chides to hell, and bids the other grow. 
 Faster than thought, or time. 
 
 Flo. Worthy Camillo, 
 
 What colour for my visitation shall I 
 Hold up before him ? 
 
 Cam. Sent by the king, your father. 
 
 To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, 
 The manner of your bearing towards him, with 
 What you, as from your father, shall deliver. 
 Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you 
 
 down ; 
 The which shall point you forth at every sitting. 
 What you must say ; that he shall not perceive. 
 But that you have your father's bos9in there. 
 And speak his very heart. 
 
 Flo. 1 am bound to you : 
 
 There is some sap in this. 
 
 Cam. A course more promising 
 
 Than a wild dedication of yourselves 
 To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores ; most certain. 
 To miseries enough; no hope to help you; 
 But, as you shake ofi'one, to take another: 
 Nothing so certain as your anchors; who 
 Do their best office, it they can but stay you. 
 Where you'll be loath to be: Besides, you know. 
 Prosperity is the very bond of love ; 
 Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
 Affliction alters. 
 
 Per. One of these is true ; 
 
 I think, affliction may subdue the cheek. 
 But not take in the mind. 
 
 Cam. 
 
 Yea, say you so? 
 
 There shall not, at your father's house, these seven 
 Be born another such. [years, 
 
 Flo. My good Camillo, 
 
 She is as forward of her breeding, as 
 I'the rear of birth. 
 
 Cam. 1 cannot say, 'tis pity 
 
 She lacks instructions ; for she seems a mistress 
 To most that teach. 
 
 Per. Your pardon, sir, for this ; 
 
 I'll blush you thanks. 
 
 Flo. My prettiest Perdita.— 
 But, O, the thorns we stand upon! — Camillo, — 
 Preserver of ray father, now of me; 
 'i'he medicine of our house I — how shall we do? 
 We are not liirnish'd like Bohemia's son ; 
 Nor shall api^ear in Sicily 
 
 Cam. My lord 
 
 Fear none of this : I think, you know, my fortunes 
 Do all lie there : it shall be so my care 
 To have you royally appointed, as if 
 I'he scene you play were mine. For instance, sir. 
 That you may know you sliall not want, — one word. 
 
 {Tkey talk aside.) 
 
 Enter Autolycus, 
 
 Aut. Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is I and trust, 
 
 his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman ! I have 
 
 sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, noi 
 
 a riband i;lass, pomander, brooch, table-book, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 245 
 
 tiallad, knife, tape, glove, shoe tye, bracelet, horn- 
 ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng 
 who should buy tirst; as if my trinkets had been 
 hallowed, and bronght a benediction to the bnyer; 
 by whicti means, 1 saw whose purse was best in 
 pictiM-e ; and, what 1 saw, to my gi'od use, I re- 
 membered. My clown (who wants but sometiiing 
 to be a reasonable man,) grew so in love with tlie 
 wenches' song, that he would not stir iiis pettitoes, 
 (ill he had both tune and words ; wiiich so drew 
 the rest of the herd to me, that all their other 
 senses stuck in ears : you might have pinched a 
 placket, it was senseless ; 'twas nothing to geld a 
 codpiece of a purse ; I would have tiled keys oft", 
 <hat hung in chains : no hearing, no feeling, but my 
 «ir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So tiiat, 
 in this tmie of lethargy, I picked and cut most of 
 their festival purses : and had not the old man come 
 in with a whoobub against his daughter and tiie 
 king's son, and scared my clioughs Irom the chatf, 
 I had not leit a purse alive in the whole army. 
 
 {Cam. Flo. and Per. come forward.) 
 Cam. Nay, but my letters by this means being 
 there 
 So soon as yoi: arrive, shall clear that doubt. 
 Flo. And those, that you'll procure from king 
 
 Leontes, — 
 Cam. Shall satisfy your father. 
 Per. Happy be you ! 
 
 AH, that you speak, shows fair. 
 Cam. Who have we here ? 
 
 (Seeinij Autolyciin.) 
 We'll make an instrument of this ; ouut 
 Notliing, may give us aid. 
 
 Attt. if they have overheard me now, — why 
 
 kanniiig. [Aside ) 
 
 Com. How now, good fellow ? why shakest tlioii 
 
 so? Fear not, man ; here's no harm intended to thee. 
 
 Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. 
 
 Cam. VVhy, be so still ; here's nobody will steal 
 
 that from thee : Yet, for the outside of tliy poverty, 
 
 we must make an exchange : tlierefore, disease thee 
 
 instantly, (thou must think, there's necessity in t,) 
 
 and change garments with this gentleman : 'I'hoiigh 
 
 the pennyworth, on his side, be the worst, yet hold 
 
 thee, there's some boot. 
 
 Aut. 1 am a poor fellow, sir : — I know ve well 
 enough. (Aside.) 
 
 Cam. Nay, pr'ythee, despatch : the gentleman 
 is half flayed already. 
 
 Aut. Are you in earnest, sir? — I stnell the trick 
 of it. — [Aside.) 
 
 Flo. Despatch, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Aut. Indeed, 1 have earnest; but I cannot with 
 conscience take it. 
 
 Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. — 
 
 [Flo. and Autol. exchange garments.) 
 Fortunate mistress, — let my prophecy 
 Come home to you! — yon must retiie yourself 
 Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat. 
 And pluck it o'er your brows; mulHe your face; 
 Dismantle you ; and as you can, disliken 
 'J'he tnilh of your own seeming ; that you may 
 (For 1 do fear eyes over you,) to shipboard 
 Get nndescried. 
 
 Per. I see, the play so lies. 
 
 That I must bear a part. 
 ' Cam. No remedy. — 
 
 Have you done there ? 
 
 Flo. Should I now meet my father, 
 
 He woulil not call me son. 
 
 Com. Nay. you shall have 
 
 No hat : — Come, lady, come. — Farewell, my friend. 
 Aut. Aden, sir. 
 
 Flo. Perdita, what hive we twain forgot? 
 Pray yon, a word. [They converse apart.) 
 
 Cam. \Viiat 1 do next, shall be, to tell the king 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Of this escape, and wh.ither (iiey are bound ; 
 Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail. 
 
 To Tirce him after : in whose company 
 I shall review Sicilia for whose sight 
 I huve a woman's longing. 
 
 Flo. Fortune speed us! — 
 
 Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 
 
 Cam. The svviiter sjjeed, the better. 
 
 [Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo. 
 
 Aut. I understand tiie business, I hear it : To 
 have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble band, 
 is necessary for a cut purse , a good nose is requi- 
 site also, to smell out work for the other .senses. 1 
 see, this is the time ihat the unjust man doth thrive 
 What an exchange had this been, without boot ? 
 what a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure, tiie 
 gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any 
 thing extempore. The prince himself is about a 
 piece ol iniquity ; stealing away from his father, 
 with his clog at his heels : If I thought it were not 
 a piece of honesty to acqtiaint the king withal, I 
 would do't : I hold it the more knavery to conceal 
 it : and therein am 1 constant to my prolession. 
 
 Enter Clown and Shepherd. 
 
 Aside, aside; — here is more matter for a hot brain: 
 every lane's end, every siiop, church, session, hang- 
 ing, yields a careful man work. 
 
 Clo. See, see; what a man vou are now! tnere 
 is no other way, but to tell the king she's a change- 
 ling, and none of your flesh and blood. 
 She}}. Nay, but hear me. 
 C/o. Nay, but hear me. 
 Shep. Go to then. 
 
 Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, 
 your flesh and blood has not offended the king: 
 and, so, your flesh and blood is not to be punishetl 
 by him. Siiow ihose things you found about her; 
 those secret things, all but what she has with her: 
 This being done, let the law go whistle ; I warrant 
 you. 
 
 Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and 
 his son's pranks too ; who, I may say, is no honest 
 man neither to his fiither, nor to me, to go about to 
 make me the king's brother in-law. 
 
 Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the fuithestoff 
 
 you could have been to him ; and then your blood had 
 
 been the dearer, by I know how much ao ounce. 
 
 Aut. Very wisely ; puppies ! [Aside. 
 
 Shep. Well; let us to the king; there is that in 
 
 this fardel, will make him scratch his beard. 
 
 Aut. I know not what impediment this complaint 
 may be to the flight ot my master. 
 Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at palace. 
 Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so 
 sometimes by chance : — Let me pocket up my ped- 
 ler's excrement. [Takes off his false beard.) Ho\¥ 
 now. rustics? whither are you bound ? 
 
 Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship. 
 Aut. Your affairs there ? what ? with whom ? the 
 condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, 
 your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, 
 and any thing that is fitting to be known, discover. 
 Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. 
 Aut. A lie ; you are rough and hairy : Let me 
 have no lying ; it becomes none but tradesmen, and 
 they often give us soldiers the lie : but we pay them 
 for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel : there- 
 fore they do not give us the lie. 
 
 Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one, 
 if you had not taken yourself with the manner. 
 Shep. Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? 
 Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. 
 See'st ihou not the air of the court, in these enfold- 
 ings? hath not my gait in it, the measure of the 
 court? receives nut thy nose court-odour fiom me? 
 reflect I not on thy baseness court contempt? 
 Tliink'st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze from thee 
 thy business, I am therefore no courtier ? I am 
 courtier, cap-a-pe; and one that will either push 
 on, or pluck back thy business there : whereupon I 
 comiuai'd tbee to open thy aii'a<r. 
 
240 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Shep. My business, sir, is to the king'. 
 
 Atfi. W'liat advocate hast thou to him? 
 
 Shep. 1 know not, an't like you. 
 
 Clo. Advocate's the court-word for a piieasant; 
 say, you have none. [hen. 
 
 Shep. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cork nor 
 
 Aut. How bless'd are we, that are not simple men ! 
 Yet nature might have made me as Uiese are. 
 Therefore I'll not disdain. 
 
 Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. 
 
 Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them 
 not handsomely. 
 
 Clo, He seems to be the more noble in being fan- 
 tastical ; a great man, I'll warrant; I know, by tlie 
 picking on's teeth. 
 
 Aut. The fardel there? what's ithe fardel ? 
 Wherefore that box ? 
 
 Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel, 
 and box, which none must know but the king-; and 
 which he shall know within this hour, if I may 
 come to the speech of him. 
 
 Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. 
 
 Shep. Why, sir? 
 
 Aut. The king is not at the palace ; he is gone 
 aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, and air 
 himself: For, if thou be'st capable of things se- 
 rious, thou must know tlie king is full of grief. 
 
 Shep. So 'tis said, sir; about his son, tiiat should 
 have married a shepherd's daugiiter. 
 
 Aut. Jf that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let 
 him Hy ; the curses he shall have, the tortures he 
 shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of 
 
 Clo. Think you so, sir? [monster. 
 
 Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make 
 heavy, and vengeance bitter; but those, that are 
 germane to him, though removed fifty times, shall 
 all come under the hangman : which though it be 
 great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep- 
 whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to otfer to have his 
 daughter come into grace ! Some say, he shall be 
 stoned ; bu_t that death is too soft for him, say I : 
 Draw our throne into a sheep-cote ! all deaths are too 
 few, the sharpest too easy. 
 
 Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, 
 ant like you, sir? 
 
 Aut. fie has a son, who shall be flayed alive; 
 then, 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of 
 a wasp's nest; then stand, till he be three-quarters 
 and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua- 
 vitie, or some otiier hot infusion; then, raw as he 
 is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, 
 shall he be set against a brick-wall, the sun-looking 
 with a southward eye upon him ; where he is to 
 behold him with flies blown to death. But what 
 talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries 
 are to be smiled at, their offences being 'so capital ? 
 Tell me, (for you seem to be honest plain men.) 
 what have you to the king : being something gently 
 considered, I'll biing you where he is aboard, ten- 
 der your persons to his presence, whisper him in 
 your behalfs; and, if it be in man, besides the king, 
 to effect your suits, here is man shall do it. 
 
 Clo. He seems to be of great authority ; close 
 with him, give him guld ; and though authority be 
 a stubborn bear, yet lie is oft led by the nuse with 
 golil : show the inside of your purse to the outside 
 of his hand, and no more ailo : Remember stoned, 
 and flayed alive. 
 
 Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake the 
 business for us, here is that gold I have : I'll make 
 it as much mor"! ; and leave this young man in pawn 
 till I bring it you. 
 
 Aut. Alter I have done what I promised? 
 
 Shep. Ay, sir. 
 
 Aul. Well, give ine the moiety:— Are you a 
 party in this business " 
 
 Clo. In some sort, sir: but though my case 
 be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out 
 of it. 
 
 AmI. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: — 
 
 Han^ him, he'll be made an example. 
 
 Clo. Comfort : good comfort • we must to the 
 king, and show our strange sights: he must know, 
 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister; we are 
 gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old 
 man does, when the business is performed ; and 
 remain, as he says, your pawn, till it be brought 
 you. 
 
 Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the 
 sea-side ; go on the right hand ; 1 will but look 
 upon the hedge, and follow you. 
 
 Clo. We are blessed in tliis man, as I may say, 
 even blessed. 
 
 Shep. Let's before, as he bids us: lie was pro- 
 vided to do us good. [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown, 
 
 Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see, for- 
 tune would not suB'er me; she drops booties in my 
 mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion ; 
 gold, and a means to do the prince my master 
 good : which, who knows how that may turn back 
 to my advancement? I will bring these two moles, 
 these blind ones, aboard him: if he think it fit to 
 shore them again, and that the complaint they have 
 to the king concerns him nothing, let him call me, 
 rogue, for being so far oflicious ; for I am proof 
 against that title, and what shame else belongs to't : 
 to him will I present them, there may be matter 
 in it. [Exit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Sicilia. A Room in the Palace of 
 
 Leonies. 
 
 Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have per- 
 form'd 
 A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make. 
 Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed, paid down 
 More penitence, than done trespass; at tlie last. 
 Do, as the heavens have done ; forget your evil ; 
 With them, forgive yourself. 
 
 Leon, Whilst I remembei 
 
 Her and her virtues, I cannot forget 
 My blemishes in them ; and so still think of 
 The wrong I did myself: which w:is so much. 
 That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and 
 Destroy'd the sweet'st compuiiion that e'er man 
 Bred his hopes out of. 
 
 Paul. True, too true, my lord : 
 
 If, one by one, you wedded all the world. 
 Or from the all, that are, took something good, 
 To make a perfect woman ; she, you kill'd. 
 Would be unparallel'd. 
 
 Leon. 1 think so. Kill'd f 
 
 She I kill'd ? I did so: but thou strik'st ine 
 Sorely, to say I did ; it is as bitter 
 Upon thy tongue, as in my thought : now, good now. 
 Say so but seldom. 
 
 Cleo. Not at all, good lady. 
 
 You might have spoken a thousand tlimgs, thsst 
 
 would 
 Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd 
 Your kindness better. 
 
 Paul. You are one of those. 
 
 Would have fiim wed again. 
 
 Dion. If you would not 8(^, 
 
 You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 
 Of his most sovereign dame ; consider little, 
 What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue. 
 May drop upon his kingdom, and devour 
 Incertain lookers on. What were more holy 
 Than to rejoice, the former queen is well? 
 What holier, than,— for royalty's repair. 
 For present comfort and (or future good. — 
 To bless the bed of majesty again 
 With a sweet fellow tot ? 
 
 Paul, There is none worthy. 
 
 Respecting her, that's gone. Besides, the gods 
 Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes : 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 247 
 
 For has not the divine Apollo said, 
 
 Is't not tlie tenor of his oracle. 
 
 'I'h^it kina; Leontcs shall not have an heir, 
 
 Till his lost child be found '! which, that it shall. 
 
 Is all as monstrous to our human reason. 
 
 As ni_v Antiffonus to break his grave. 
 
 And come aj;ain to nie ; who, on my life, 
 
 l>.(i htiish with ihe infant. 'Tis your counsel, 
 
 ilv loid should to the heavens be contrary, 
 
 0(jp :>st' against tlieir wills. — Care not for issue ; 
 
 ■^ • _ {To Leontes.) 
 
 Til" ciown will find an heir: Great Alexander 
 Left iiis to the worthiest; so his successor 
 \V';is like to be the best. 
 
 Leon. Good Paulina, — 
 
 \\iio hast the memory of iiermione, 
 I know, in honour, — O, that ever I 
 iiaii squar'd me to thy counsel ! — then, even noWj 
 1 nii^lit have look'd upon my queens full eyes; 
 !hi\e taken treasure iroiii her lips, — 
 
 Paul. And left them 
 
 ,M')ie rich, for what they yielded. 
 
 Leon. Thou speak'st truth. 
 
 No more such wives ; therefore, no wife : one worse. 
 And better ns'd, would make her sainted spirit 
 Afjain possess her corpse : and, on this stage, 
 (W here we offenders now appear,) soul vex'd, 
 liesin, And ivhy to mel 
 
 Paul. Had she such power. 
 
 She liad just caiise. 
 
 Leon. She had ; and would incense me 
 
 To murder her I married. 
 
 Paul. I should so: 
 
 Were ( the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark 
 Her eye ; and tell me, (or wliat dull part in't 
 Von chose her: tlieii I'd shriek, tliat even your 
 
 ears 
 yiioiiid rift to iiear me; and tlie words, that follow'd, 
 Siiuuld be. Remember mine. 
 
 Leon. Stars, very stars, 
 
 Ami all eyes else dead coals! — fear thou no wife, 
 I'll liiive no wife, Paulina. 
 
 Paul. Will you swear 
 
 Never to marry, but by my tree leave ? 
 
 Leon. Never, Paulina; so be bless'd my spirit! 
 Paul. Then, pood my lords, bear witness to his 
 Cleo. You tempt him over much. [oath. 
 
 Paul. Unless another. 
 
 As like Hermione as is her picture. 
 Affront his eye. 
 
 Cleo. Good madam, — 
 
 Paul. I have done. 
 
 Vet, if my lord will marry, — if you will, sir. 
 No remedy, but you will; give me the offii-e 
 To clioose you a queen : she shall not be so young 
 As was your former; butsiie shall be such, 
 As, walk'd your tirst queens ghost, it should take 
 To see her in your arms. [joy 
 
 Leon. My true Paulina, 
 
 We shall not marry, till thou bidd'st us. 
 
 Paul. That 
 
 Shall be, when your first queen's again in breath; 
 Never till then. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 Gent. One, that gives out himself prince Florizel, 
 Son of Polixenes, with his princess, (she 
 'I'lie tiiirest 1 have yet beheld,) desires access 
 To your high presence. 
 
 Leon. What with him? he comes not 
 
 Like to his father's greatness : his approach. 
 So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us, 
 "I'is not a visitation fmm'd, but forcd 
 By need, and accident. What train? 
 
 Ge7it. But few, 
 
 And those but mean. 
 
 Leon. His princess, say you, with him? 
 
 Gent. Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I 
 That e er tue sun shone bright on. [think, 
 
 Paul. O Hermione, 
 
 As every present time doth boast itself 
 Above a better, gone ; so must thy grave 
 Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself 
 Have said, and writ so, (but your writing now 
 Is colder than that theme,) she had not been., 
 Nor was not to be equall'd; — thus your verse 
 Flow'd with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd. 
 To say, you have seen a better. 
 
 Gent. Pardon, madam 
 
 The one I have almost forgot ; (your pardon,) 
 The other, when she has obtain'd your eye. 
 Will have your tongue too. This is such a creature 
 Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal 
 Of all professors else ; make proselytes 
 Of who she but bid follow. 
 
 Paid. How ? not women ? 
 
 Gent. Women will love her, that she is a Wv<iiian 
 More worth than any man ; men, that siie is 
 The rarest of all women. 
 
 Leon. Go, Cleomenes; 
 
 Yourself, assisted with your honour'd Iriends, 
 Bring them to our embracemeut. — Still 'tis strange, 
 [Exeunt Cleomenes, Lords, and Gentleman. 
 He thus should steal upon us. 
 
 Paul. Had our prince 
 
 (Jewel of children.^ seen this hour, he had pair'd 
 VV"ell with this lord; there was not full a month 
 Between their births. 
 
 Leon. Pr'ythee, no more; thou know'st. 
 
 He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure. 
 When I shall see tliis gentleman, thy speeches 
 \V ill bring me to consider tiiat, which may 
 Unluruisli me of reason. — They are come.— 
 
 Re-enter Cleomenes, ivith Florizel, Perdita, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince j 
 For she did print your royal father off. 
 Conceiving you : were I but twenty-one. 
 Your tiither's image is so hit in you. 
 His veiy air, that 1 should call you brother. 
 As I did him ; and speak of sometliing, wildly 
 By us perl'orm'd before. Most dearly welcome ! 
 And your fair princess, goddess; — O, alas! 
 I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth 
 Might thus nave stood, begetting wonder, as 
 You, gracious couple, do! and then I lost 
 (All mine own folly,) the society. 
 Amity too, ol your brave father ; whom. 
 Though bearing misery, I desire my lil'e 
 Once more to look upon. 
 
 Flo. By his command 
 
 Have I here touched Sjcilia; and from him 
 Give you all greetings, that a king, a friend. 
 Can send his brother : and, but infirmity 
 (Which waits upon worn times,) hath something 
 His wisli'd ability, lie had himself [seized 
 
 The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his 
 Measur'd, to look upon you ; whom he loves 
 (He bade me say so,) more than all the sceptres. 
 And those that bear them, living. 
 
 Leon. O, my brother, 
 
 (Good gentleman!) the wrongs I have done thee, 
 
 stir 
 Afresh within me : and these thy offices. 
 So rarely kind, are as interpreters 
 Of my behind-hand slackness ! — Welcome hither. 
 As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too 
 Expos'd this paragon to the fearliil usage « 
 
 (.\t least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune, 
 To greet a man not worth her pains; much less 
 The adventure of her person? 
 
 Flo. Good my lord, 
 
 Sue came from Libya. 
 
 Leon. Where the warlike Smalua 
 
 That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and lov'd ? 
 
 Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him, 
 whose daughter 
 His tears prociaim'd his, parting with her: thence 
 (A prosperous south-wind friendly,) we have cross 'd. 
 
248 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 To execute the charge my father gave rae. 
 For visiting your liiglmess : my best train 
 I have IVom your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ; 
 Who tor lioliemia bend, to signil'y 
 Not only my success in Libya, sir, 
 But my arrival, and my wile's, in safety 
 Here, where we are. 
 
 Leon. The blessed gods 
 
 Purge all infection from our air, whilst you 
 Do climate here ! You have a holy fattier, 
 A graceliil gentleman : against whose person. 
 So sacred as it is, I have done sin : 
 For which the heavens, takiug angry note. 
 Have left me issueless; and your lather's bless'd 
 (As he from heaven merits it,) with you. 
 Worthy his goodness. What might 1 have been. 
 Might J a son and daughter now have look'd on, 
 Such goodly things as you ? 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lord. Most noble sir. 
 
 That, which I shall report, will bear no credit, 
 Were not the prool so uigh. Please you, great sir, 
 Bohemia greets you from himself, by me : 
 Desires you to attach his son ; who has 
 (His dignity and duty both cast oft",) 
 Fled <rom his father, Irom his hopes, and with 
 A shepherd's daughter. 
 
 Leon. Where's Bohemia? speak. 
 
 Lord. Here in the cily ; 1 now came from him : 
 I speak amazedly ; and it becomes 
 My marvel, and my message. To your court 
 Whiles he was hast'ning, (in the chase, it seems. 
 Of this iair couple,) meets he on the way 
 The father of tins seeming lady, and 
 Her biotlier, having both their country quitted 
 With this young prince. 
 
 Flo. Camillo has betray'd me ; 
 
 Wiiose honour, and whose honesty, till now, 
 Endui'd all weathers. 
 
 Lord. Lay't so to his charge ; 
 
 He's with the king your lather. 
 
 Leon. Who? Camillo? 
 
 Lord. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; wao now 
 Has these poor men in que.stion. Never saw I 
 Wretches so quake : tiiey kneel, they kiss the earth ; 
 Forswear themselves as often as they speak; 
 Bohemia stops Ins ears, and threatens them 
 With divers deaths in death. 
 
 Per. O, my poor father ! — 
 
 The lieavens set spies upon us, will not have 
 Our contract celebrated. 
 
 Leon. You are married? 
 
 Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be ; 
 The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first : 
 The odds for high and low's alike. 
 
 Leon. My lord. 
 
 Is tliis the daughter of a king ? 
 
 Flo. She is. 
 
 When once she is my wife. [speed, 
 
 Leon. That once, 1 see, by your good father's 
 Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, 
 Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, 
 Where you were tied in duty : and as sorry. 
 Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty. 
 That you might well enjoy her. 
 
 Flo. Dear, look up : 
 
 Though fortune, visible an enemy. 
 Should chase us, with my father ; power no jot 
 Hath she to change our loves. — Beseech you, sir. 
 Remember since you ow'd no more to time 
 Than I do now : with thought of such affections. 
 Step forth miue advocate ; at your request, 
 My Hither will grant precious things, as trifles. 
 
 Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious 
 Which he counts but a trifle. [mistress, 
 
 Paul. Sir, my liege. 
 
 Your eye hath too much youth iiit : not a mouth 
 'Fore your queen died, slie was mure vvortii such 
 Than what you look on now. (l^azes 
 
 Leon. I thought of her. 
 
 Even iu these looks I made. — But your petition 
 
 (To FlorixeQ 
 Is yet nnanswer'd : I will to your fatlier; 
 Your honour not o'erthrown by ymir desires, 
 1 am a friend to them, and you: upon wliich errand 
 1 now go towaid liiin; therefore, follow me, 
 And mark what way 1 make : Come, good my lord 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — TAe same. Before ike Palace. 
 Enter Autolycus and a Qentleman. 
 
 Aut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you preseut at this 
 relation ''. 
 
 1 Gent. I was by at the opening ol the fardel, 
 heard tiie old sliepiierd deliver the manner how he 
 found it ; whereupon, alter a little amazeduess, we 
 were all commanded out of tlie chamb> r ; only this, 
 methought 1 heard the shepherd say, he found the 
 child. 
 
 Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it 
 
 1 Gent. I make a broken delivery ol the busi- 
 ness : — But the changes I perceived in the king, 
 and Camillo, were very notes of admiration : they 
 seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear 
 the cases ol their eyes ; tliere was speech in their 
 dumbness, language in their very gesture : they 
 looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or 
 one destroyed : A notable passion of wonder ap- 
 peared in tiiem ; but tlie wisest beholder, that knew 
 no more but seeing, could not say, il the import- 
 ance were joy, or sorrow : but io the extremity of 
 the one, it must needs be. 
 
 Enter another Gentleman, 
 
 Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows 
 more: 'I'lie news, Itogero? 
 
 2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires : 'I'he oracle is 
 fulfilled; tlie king's daughter is found ; sucli a deal 
 ot wonder has broken out witiiin this hour, tiiat bal- 
 lad-makers cannot be able to express it. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 Here comes the lady Paulina's steward ; he can 
 deliver you more. — How goes it now , sir i this 
 news, which is culled true, is so like an old tale, 
 that the verity ol it is in strong suspicion : Has the 
 king lound his heir .'' 
 
 'd Gent. Most true ; if ever truth were pregnant 
 by circumstance : tiiat, which you hear, you'll swear 
 you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The 
 mantle of queen Hermione : her jewel about tlie 
 neck of it : — the letters of Antigonus, found with 
 it, which they know to be his character : — the ma- 
 jesty ot the creature, in resemblance ol the mother; 
 — tne affection of nobleness, which nature shows 
 above her breeding, and many other evidences, 
 proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's 
 daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two 
 
 -IGent.'Ho. ' [kings? 
 
 3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was 
 to be seen, cannot be spoken ol. 'I'here might you 
 have beheld one joy crown another; so, and in such 
 manner, that, it seemed, sorrow wept to take leave 
 ot them ; lor their joy waded in tears. Tliere was 
 casting up of eyes, holding up of hands ; with 
 countenance of such distraction, that, they were to 
 be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, 
 being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his 
 found daughter, as if that joy were now become a 
 loss, cries, 0, thy mother, thy mother', th. n asks 
 Bohemia forgiveness; men embraces his son in- 
 law ; then again worries he his daughter, with clip- 
 ping her; now he thanks the old sheplieid, which 
 stands by, like a weather bitten conduit of many 
 kings' reigns. 1 never heaid of such another ea- 
 counter, which lames report to follow it, and un- 
 does description to do it. 
 
 2 Gent. What, pray yon, became of Antigonus, 
 that carried hence the ctiild ? 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 249 
 
 3 Gent. Like an old tale still ; which will have 
 matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not 
 an ear open : He was torn to pieces with a bear : 
 this avouches the shepherd's son; who has nut only 
 his innocence (which seems much,) to justify him, 
 but a handkerchief, and rings, of his, that Paulina 
 knows. [lowers ? 
 
 1 Gent. What became of his bark, and his fol- 
 
 3 Gent. Wrecked, the same instunt of their 
 master's death ; and in the view of the shepherd : 
 so that all the instruments, which aided to expose 
 the child, were even then lost, when it was foimd. 
 But, O, the noble combat, that, 'twixt joy and sor- 
 row, wiis foujjht in Paulina ! She had one eye de- 
 clined for the loss of her husbiind ; another eievated, 
 that the oracle was tullilled : Sue lifted the princess 
 from the earth ; and so locks h^r in embracing, as 
 if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no 
 more bf \n danger of losing. 
 
 ] Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the 
 audience of kings and princes; for by such was it 
 acted. 
 
 3 Gent. One of the prettiest touches of all, and 
 that wiiich angled for mine eyes, (caught the water, 
 though not tiie fish,) was, when at tlie relation of 
 the queen's death, with the manner how she came 
 to it, (bravely confessed and lamented by the king,) 
 how atteniiveness wounded his daugliter : till, from 
 one s gn of dolour to another, she did, with an 
 alas! I would fain say, bleed tears; for, I am sure, 
 my heart wept blood. Who was most marble 
 there, changed colour ; some swooned, all sorrow- 
 ed : if all the world could have seen it, the woe had 
 been universal. 
 
 1 Gent. Are they returned to the court? 
 
 3 Gent. No : tlie princess, hearing of her mo- 
 ther's statue, which is in tne keeping of Paulina, — 
 apiece many years in doing, and now newly per- 
 formed by that rare Italian master, Julio llomano; 
 who, had he iiitnself eternity, and could put breath 
 into his work, would beguile nature of her custom, 
 so perfectly he is her ape ; he so near to Hermione 
 hath done Hermioue, that, they say, one would 
 speak to her, and stand in hope of answer : thither, 
 with all greediness ofatVection, are they gone; and 
 there they intend to sup. 
 
 1 Gent. I tiiought, she had some great matter 
 there in nand ; for she hath privately, twice or thrice 
 a day, ever suice the death of Hermione, visited 
 that remoxed iiouse Shall we thitner, and with 
 our company piece the rejoicing? 
 
 3 Gent. VVho would be tlience, that has the 
 benefit of access .'' every wink of an eye, some 
 new grace will be born : our absence makes us 
 unthrifty t(( our knowledge. Let's along. 
 
 [Exeunt Gentlemen. 
 
 Aut. Now, had I not the dusli of my former 
 life in me. would preferment drop on my head. I 
 brought the old man and his son ab.iard the prince : 
 told him, I heard him talk of a fardel, and I 
 know not what : but he at th^t time, overfond of 
 the shepherds daughter, (so he then took her to be,) 
 who began to be nnich sea-sick, and himself little 
 better, extremity of weather continuing, this mys- 
 tery remained undiscovered, but tisalloneto me : 
 for had 1 been the finder-out of this secret, it 
 would not have relished among my other discredits. 
 
 Enter Shepherd and Clown. 
 
 Here come those I have done good to against my 
 will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their 
 fortune. 
 
 Skeji. Come, boy; I am past more children; but 
 thy sous and daughters will be all gentlemen born. 
 
 Clo. You are well met, sir : You denied to fight 
 with me this other day, because 1 was no gentleman 
 born : See you these clotues ? say, you see them 
 not, and think me still no gentleman born : you 
 Were b<st say, these robes are not gentlemen born. 
 Give nie tlie lie; do; and try whether I am not 
 now a fjentlemau born. 
 
 Aut. I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman bora 
 
 Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four 
 
 Shep. .And so have I, boy. [houra. 
 
 Clo. So you have : — but I was a gentleman born 
 before my father : for the king's son took me by 
 the hand, and called me, brother; and then the 
 two kings called uiy father, brother: and then the 
 prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, 
 called my father, father; and so we wept; and 
 there was the first gentlemanlike tears that ever 
 we shed. 
 
 S/iep. We may live, son, to shed many more. 
 
 Clo. Ay; or else twere hard luck, being in so 
 preposterous estate as we are. 
 
 Aut. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon i|ie 
 all the faults 1 have committed to your worship, 
 and to give me your good report to the prince my 
 master. 
 
 Shep. Pr'ythee. son, do; for we must be gentle, 
 now we are gentlemen. 
 
 Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life? 
 
 Aut. Ay, an it like jour good worship. 
 
 Clo. Give me thy hand : I will swear to the 
 mince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in 
 Bohemia. 
 
 Shep. You n;ay say it, but not swear it. 
 
 Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman ? Let 
 boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it, 
 
 Shep. How if it be false, son? 
 
 Clo. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman 
 may swear it in the behalf of his friend :— .\nd III 
 sw«ar to the prince thou art a tall lellovv of thy 
 hands, and that thou wilt not be drnuk; but I 
 know, thou art no tall fellow of thy hands, and that 
 thou wilt be drunk; but III swear it: and I 
 would, thou wonldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. 
 
 Aut. I will prove .so, sir, to my power. 
 
 Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: 
 If I do not wonder, how thou darest venture to be 
 drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust nie not. — 
 Hark ! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are 
 going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us: 
 well be thy good masters. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III.— The same. A Room in Paulina's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Leovtes, Polixenes, Flokizel, Perdifa, 
 
 Camillo, Paulina, Lords, and Attendujils. 
 
 Leon. O, grave and good Paulina, tiie great 
 Th:tt I have had of thee ! [coinibrt 
 
 Paul. What, sovereign sir, 
 
 I did not well, I meant well : All my sen ices. 
 You have paid home : but that you have vouchsafd. 
 With your crown'd brother, and these your con- 
 tracted 
 Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit. 
 It is a surplus of your grace, which never 
 My life may last to answer. 
 
 Leon. O Paulina, 
 
 We honour you with trouble : But we came 
 To see the statue of our queen ; your gallery 
 Have we pass'd through, not without much content 
 In many singularities ; but we saw not 
 That which my daughter came to look upon. 
 The statue of her mother. 
 
 Paid. As she li\'d peerles% 
 
 So her dead likeness, I do well believe. 
 Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, 
 Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it 
 Lonely apart : But here it is : prepare 
 To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever 
 Still sleep mock'd death : behold ; and .say, 'tis well. 
 
 [Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers a 
 I like your silence, it the more shows oft" [statue.) 
 Your wonder : But yet speak; — first, you, my liege, 
 Comes it not sumcthiug near? 
 
 Leon. Her natural posture ! 
 
 C'liile m", dear stone; that I may say, indeed. 
 Thou at lleiinione : or rather, thou'ailshe. 
 In thy not chiding ; for she was as tender, 
 
250 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 As infancy, and grace. — Uut yet, Paulina, 
 Hcrniione was not so much wrinkled ; nothing 
 So a^ed, as this seems. 
 
 Pol. O, not by much. 
 
 Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence ; 
 Which lets goby some sixteen years, and makes her 
 As she liv'd now. 
 
 Leon. As now she might have done, 
 
 Sii much to my good ct)nifort, as it is 
 Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood. 
 Even with such liie ot majesty, (warm life. 
 As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd her! 
 I am ashamed : Does not the stone rebuke me. 
 For being more stone than it? — O, royal piece. 
 There's magic in thy majesty ; which has 
 My evils conjurd to remembrance; and 
 From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, 
 Standing like stone with thee ! 
 
 Per. ' And give me leave; 
 
 And do not say, 'tis superstition, that 
 I kneel, and then implore her blessing. — Lady, 
 Dear queen, that ended when 1 but began. 
 Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. 
 
 Paul. O patience ; 
 
 The statne is but newly tix"d, the colour's 
 > ot dry. 
 
 Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on ; 
 Whicli sixteen winte-s cannot blow away. 
 So many suuiuiers, dry : scarce any joy 
 Did ever so long live ; no sorrow. 
 But kiird itself nnich sooner. 
 
 Pol. Dear my brother. 
 
 Let liini that was the cause of this have power 
 To take otf so much grief from you, as he 
 Will piece up in himself 
 
 Paul. Indeed, my lord, 
 
 If I luid thought the sight of my poor image 
 Would thus have wrought you, (for the stone is 
 I'd not have show'd it. [mine,) 
 
 Lfoii. Do not draw t!)e curtain. 
 
 Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest your 
 M.iv think anon, it moves. [fancy 
 
 Leon. Let be, let be. 
 
 VVoiild I were dead, but that, iiiethinks, already — 
 What was he that did make it? — .See, my lord. 
 Would yjiu not deem, it breath'd ? and that those 
 Did \eiily bear blood? [veins 
 
 Pol. Masterly done : 
 
 The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
 
 Leon. Tiie fixure of her eye has motion in't. 
 As ue are mock'd with art. 
 
 Paul. I'll draw the curtain ; 
 
 My loid's almost SO far transported, that 
 Hell think anon, it lives. 
 
 Leun. O sweet Paldina, 
 
 Make me to think so twenty years together; 
 No settled senses of the world can match 
 'I'he pleasure of that madness. Left alone. 
 
 //. 
 
 sir, i have thus far stirr'd 
 
 I am sorry, 
 you : but 
 I could aiiiict you further. 
 
 Leon. Do, Paulina ; 
 
 For tins affliction has a taste as sweet 
 As any cordial comfort. — Still, methinks, 
 'I'heie is an air comes from her: what fine chisel 
 Coiilil e»er yet cut breath ? Let no man mock me. 
 For [ will kiss her. 
 
 Paid. Good, my lord, forbear : 
 
 Tiie nul Hness upon her lip is wet; 
 You'll mar it, if you kiss it ; stain your own 
 With (Illy painting: shall I draw the curtain ? 
 
 Leun. No, not these twenty years. 
 . Per. So long could I 
 
 Statiil by, a looker on. 
 
 Pad. Either forbear. 
 
 Quit presently the chapel ; or re.solve you 
 For more amazement: if you can behold it, 
 I'll make the statue uune indeed, descend. 
 And take, you by the hand : hut then you'll think, 
 (VVhi; li I protest against ' I am assisted 
 By wicked powers. 
 
 Leon. What you can make her dc^ 
 
 I am content to look on : what to speak, 
 I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy 
 To make her speak, as move. 
 
 Paul. It is requir'd. 
 
 You do awake your faith: then, all stand still; 
 Or those, that think it is unlawful business 
 I am about, let them depart. 
 
 Lean. Proceed : 
 
 No fiiot shall stir. 
 
 Paid. Music; awake her; strike.— 
 
 (Music.) 
 'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more; approach; 
 Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come ; 
 I'll fill your grave up : stir ; nay, come away ; 
 Bequeath to death your nniubness, for from him 
 Dear life redeems you. — You perceive, she stirs : 
 
 [Hermione comes doivn from the pedestal.^, 
 Start not: her actions sliall be lioly, as. 
 You hear, my spell is lawful : do not shun her. 
 Until you see her die again ; for then 
 You kill her double : Nay, present your hand : 
 When she was young, you woo'd her; novy, in age. 
 Is she become the suitor. 
 
 Leon. O, she's warm ! [Embracing her.) 
 
 If this be magic, let it be an art 
 Lawfid as eating. 
 
 Pol. She embraces him. 
 
 Cam. She hangs about his neck ; 
 If she pertain to life, let her speak too. 
 
 Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has liv'd. 
 Or, how stol'n from the dead ? 
 
 Paul. That she is living, 
 
 Were it but told you, should be hooted at 
 Like an old tale ; but it appears, she lives. 
 Though yet she Si-eak not. Mark a little while. — 
 Please you to interpose, fair madam ; kneel. 
 And pray your mottier's blessing. — Turn, good lady 
 Our Perdita is found. 
 
 {Presen(i?ig Perdita, ivho kneels to Hermione.- 
 
 Her. You gods, look down. 
 
 And from your sacred vials pour your graces 
 Ui'On my daughter's head I — Tell me, mine own, 
 VVhere hast thou been preserved? where liv'd? 
 
 how found 
 Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I, — 
 Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle 
 Gave hope thou wast in being, — have preserv'd 
 Myself to see the issue. 
 
 Paul. There's time enough for that; 
 
 Lest they desire, upon this push, to trouble 
 Your joys with like relation. — (io together, 
 You |)recious w inners all ; your exultation 
 Partake to every one. I, an old turtle. 
 Will wing ine to some wither'd bough ; and there 
 My mate, that's never to be found again. 
 Lament, till I am lost. 
 
 Leon. O peace, Paulina : 
 
 Thou should'st a husband take by my consent. 
 As I by thine, a wife ; this is a match. 
 And made betvveen's by vows. 'J'hou hast fouDci 
 
 mine ; 
 But how, is to be question'd : for I saw her. 
 As I thought, dead ; and have, in vain, said many 
 A prayer upon her grave : I'll not seek far 
 (For him, I paitly ^now his mind,) to find thee 
 .\n honomable husband : — Come, Camillo, 
 And take her by the hand : vyliose worth and ho- 
 ls richly noted ; and here justified [nesty 
 By us, a pair of kinjfs. — Let's from this place. — 
 What"/ — Look upon my brother ;— both your par- 
 dons. 
 That e'er I put between yonr holy looks 
 My ill suspicion.— This your son-in-law. 
 And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing,) 
 Is troth-pirght to your daughter. — (iood Paulina, 
 Lead us from hence ; wiiere we may leisurely 
 Each one demand, and answer to his part 
 Peribiiu'd iu this vvi<le gap of time, since first 
 VVe were dissever'd: Hastily lead away. [rdxeuiU, 
 
COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 On a careful revision of the following scenes, I do not hesitate to pronounce lliem the composilloa of two 
 •iuequal writers. Siiakspeare liad undoubtedly a share in I hem ; but that the emire play was no work of his, Is ja 
 ouiniiiQ which (as Benedict says) "lire cannot inelt out of me ; I will die in it at llie slake." Tliu.i, as we ar* 
 informed by AuIjs Gellius, lib. iii. cap. 3, some plays were absolutely ascribed to Flautus, which in truth had only 
 been (retraclalte et expolilie) retouched and polished by him. 
 
 In this comedy we find more intricacy of plot than distinction of character; and our attention is less forciblr 
 engaged, because we can guess in great measure how the denouement will be brought about. Yet the suttject 
 appears lo have been reluctantly dismissed, even in this last and unnecessary scene; where the same mistakes are 
 continued, till the power of ati'oVding enterlaiument is entirely lust. Steeveas. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 so LINUS, Duhe of Epkesvs. 
 iEGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse. 
 
 I twin liroihers, ami Sons 
 ATSTlPHOhVS, of Ephesiis, S tv ^yron and Emilia. 
 ANTIPHOLUS, of Syracuse, ) but unknown to each 
 
 ' other. 
 RROMIO of Ephesus, i twin Brothers, and Attendants 
 DROMXO of Syracuse, \ on the two Antipholus's. 
 BALTHAZAR, a Merchant. 
 
 ANGELO, a Goldsmith. 
 
 A Merchant, Friend to Antiphalits of Syracuse. 
 PINCH, a Schoolmaster and a Conjurer. 
 JEMILIX, Wife to yEueon, an Abbess at Ephestis, 
 AUKIANA, Wife to Antipholus of Ephesus. 
 LUCIANA, her Sister. 
 LL'CE, her Servant. 
 A Courtezan. 
 
 Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Ephesus. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall in the Duie's Palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, ^geon, Gaoler, Officers, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 jEge. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall. 
 And, by the doom of death, end woes and all. 
 
 Duke. Merchant of Syracnsa, plead no more; 
 I am not ( artial to infringe our laws : 
 The enmity and discord, which of late 
 Spriins; from the rancorous outrage of your duke 
 'J'o merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, — 
 Who, wantiwg gilders to redeem their lives, 
 Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods, — 
 Excludes all pity iVoiii our threat'ning looks. 
 For. since the mortal and intestine jars 
 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, 
 It hath in solemn synod.s been decreed, 
 Both by the Syracusans and ourselves, 
 To admit no traffic to our adverse towns: 
 Nay, more, 
 
 If any, boru at Ephesus, be seen 
 At any Syracusan marts and fairs; 
 Again, if any Syracusan born 
 Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 
 His goods confiscate to the duke's dispo.se 
 Unless a thousand marks be levied, 
 'J'o quit the penalty, and to ransom bim. 
 Thv substance, valued at the highest rate, 
 Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; 
 'J'herefore, by law thou art condemn'd lo die. 
 
 ./Er/e. Yet this my comfort ; when your words, 
 are done. 
 My woes end likewise with the evening .sun. 
 
 Duke. Well, Syracusan, say, iu brief, the cause 
 Why thou departedst from thy native home; 
 And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. 
 
 jE'je. A heavier task could not have been impos'd. 
 Than I to sjieak my griefs unspeakable: 
 Yet that the world may witness, that my end 
 Was wrought by nature, not by vile olfence, 
 I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 
 In Syracusa was I born ; and wed 
 Unto a woman, happy but for me, 
 And by me too, had not our hap been bad. 
 With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd. 
 By prosperous voyages I often made 
 To Epidamnum, till my factor's death ; 
 And he (great care of goods at random left) 
 Drew me Irom kind embraceinents of my spouse : 
 from whom my absence was nut six moulhs old, 
 Before herself (almost at ikinting under 
 The pleasing punishment thut women bear.j 
 Had made provision for her lollowing me. 
 
 And soon, an<! .safe, arrived where I was. 
 
 There she had not been long, but she became 
 
 A joyful mother of two goodly sons ; 
 
 And which was strange, the one so like the othey. 
 
 As could not be distinguish'd but by names. 
 
 That very hour, and iu the self same inn, 
 
 A poor mean woman was delivered 
 
 Of such a burden, male twins, both alike ; 
 
 Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, 
 
 I bought, and brought up to attend my sons. 
 
 My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys. 
 
 Made daily motions for our home return: 
 
 Unwilling I agreed ; alas, too soon. 
 
 We came aboard: 
 
 A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, 
 
 Uefore the always wind obeying deep 
 
 Gave any tragic instance of our harm : 
 
 But longer did we not retain much hope. 
 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant. 
 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death ; 
 
 Which, though myself would gladly have embrae'd. 
 
 Vet the incessant weepings of my wife, 
 
 Weeping before for what she saw must come. 
 
 And piteous plainings of the pretty babes. 
 
 That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, 
 
 Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me 
 
 And this it was, — for other means was none. — 
 
 The sailors sought for safety by our boat, 
 
 And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us : 
 
 My wife, more careful for the latter-born. 
 
 Had fasten'd him unto a small sjjare mast. 
 
 Such as sea-faring men provide lor storms ; 
 
 To him one of the other twins was bound, 
 
 Whilst 1 had been like heedful of the other. 
 
 The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, 
 
 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 
 
 Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ; 
 
 And floating straight, obedient to the stieam. 
 
 Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought 
 
 At length the sun, gazing upon (he earth, 
 
 Disuers'd those vapours that offended us; 
 
 Ana, by the benefit of his wish'd light, 
 
 The seas wax'd calm, and we, discov ered 
 
 Two ships from far making amain to us. 
 
 Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this : 
 
 But ere they came, — O, let me say no more ! 
 
 Gather the sequel by that went before. [so: 
 
 Duke. Nay, forvvard, old man, do not break ot3 
 For we may pity, though not pardon thee. 
 
 jEye. O, had the gods done so, I had not now 
 Worthily term d them merciless to us! 
 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five letigu 
 We were encounter'd by a mighty rock • 
 
252 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Wliich being violendy borne npon, 
 
 Our lielpfiil ship was splitted in the midst, 
 
 So that, in this unjust divorce ot us, 
 
 Foitinie liad left to both of us ahke 
 
 What to deli^lit in, what to sorrow for. 
 
 Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burdened 
 
 With lesser weight; but not with lesser woe, 
 
 Was carried with more speed before the wind; 
 
 And in our sight they three were taken up 
 
 By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
 
 At length, another ship liad seiz'd on us ; 
 
 And, knowing whom it was their hap to save. 
 
 Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests; 
 
 And would liave reft (he fishers ol their prey. 
 
 Had not their bark been very slow of sail, 
 
 And therefore homeward did they bend their 
 
 course. — 
 Thus have you heard nie sever'd from my bliss; 
 That by misfortunes was my life proloiig'd, 
 To tfll sad stories of my own mishaps. [for, 
 
 Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest 
 ' Do me the favour to dilate at full 
 What hath befali'u of them, and thee, till now. 
 
 Mge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care. 
 At eigiitet- n years became inquisitive 
 Alter liis brother; and iniportun'd me, 
 That his attendant, (for his case was like. 
 Reft ol' his brother, but retain'd his name,) 
 Might bear him company in the quest of him : 
 Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see, 
 1 hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. 
 Five summers have 1 spent in furthest Greece, 
 Roaming clean tliroiigh the bounds of Asia, 
 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 
 Hopeless to find, yet loatli to lea\e unsought, 
 Or Ihalj or any place that harbours men. 
 But here must end the story ol my lil'e ; 
 And happy were 1 in my timely death. 
 Could all my travels warrant me they live. 
 
 Duke. Hapless vEgeon, whom the fates have 
 maik'd 
 To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! 
 Now, trust me, were it not against our laws. 
 Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, 
 VVhicli princes, would they, may not disannul. 
 My soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
 But thoiigli thou ait ailjudged to the death, 
 And passed sentence may not be ncalld. 
 But to our honour's great disparagement. 
 Yet wiil I Ihvoiir thee in wliat 1 can; 
 Therefore, nierch.int, I'll limit thee this day, 
 To seek tliy help by beneficial help: 
 Try all the friends thou hast in bphesus ; 
 Beg thou, or borrow to make up the sum, 
 And live ; il' not, then thou art doom'd to die : — 
 Gaoler, take him lo thy custody. 
 Gool. I will, my lord. 
 
 jE'je. Hopeless, and helpless, dothjEgeon wend, 
 But to prociastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. 
 
 5scEK£ H. — A Public Place. 
 
 Enter Antipholus and Dromjo of Syracuse, and 
 a Merchant. 
 
 Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidamnum, 
 Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
 This very day, a Syracusan merchant 
 Is apprehended for arrival here; 
 Auff not being able to buy out his life. 
 According to the statute of the town, 
 Dies ere tlie weary sun set in the wtst. 
 Tliere is your money that 1 had to keej). 
 
 Anl. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, 
 And striy Ibf-re, Dromio, till I come to thee. 
 W itiiiii this liour it will be diiuier-time : 
 Till that, I'll view the manners of the town. 
 Peruse (lie traders, gaze upon (he buildings. 
 And then return, and sleep within mine inn ; 
 For with long travel i am still and weary. 
 Get thee away. 
 
 Dro. S. Many a man would take yon at yoor 
 
 word. 
 And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S A trusty villain, sir; that very oft. 
 When I am dull with care and melancholy, 
 Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
 What, will you walk with me about the town, 
 And then go to my inn, and dine with me ^ 
 
 Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants. 
 Of whom 1 hope to make much benefit: 
 I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock. 
 Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart. 
 And afterwards consort you till bed-time ; 
 My present business calls me from you now. 
 
 Ant. S. Farewell till then : I will go lose myself. 
 And wander up and down, to view the city. 
 
 Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. He, that commends me to mine own 
 Commends me to the thing I cannot get. [content, 
 I to the world am like a drop of water. 
 That in the ocean seeks another drop; 
 Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
 Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: 
 So I, to find a mother, and a brother, 
 In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
 
 Here comes the almanack of my true date. — 
 What now ? How chance, thou art retiirn'd so soon? 
 Dro. E. Keturii'd so soon! rather approach'd 
 too late : 
 The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit ; 
 'I'he clock has strucken twelve npon the bell. 
 My mistress made it one upon my cheek : 
 She is so hot, hecau.se the meat is cold ; 
 Tlie meat is cold, because you come not home ; 
 Yon come not home, because you have no stomach; 
 You have no stomach, having broke your fast; 
 But we, that know what 'tis to last and pray. 
 Are penitent for your default to-day. 
 
 Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir; tell me this, I pray; 
 Where have you left the money that I gave you ^ 
 Dro. E. O, — sixpence, that 1 had o'Wedne.sday 
 last. 
 To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper : — 
 The saddler liad it, sir, 1 kept it not. 
 
 Ant. S. 1 am not in a sportive humour now : 
 Tell me, and dally not, whrre is the money'!' 
 We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust 
 So great a charge from thine own custody .•' 
 
 Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you si; at dinner ; 
 I fioin my mistress come to you in post; 
 If 1 return, I siiall be post indeed; 
 For she will scoie your fault upon my pate 
 Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your 
 
 cluck, 
 And strike you home without a messenger. 
 
 Ant. S. Come, Uroniio, come, these jests are out 
 of .season ; 
 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this: 
 Where is the gold i gave in charge to thee 'i 
 
 Dro. E. 'Jo ine, sir'? why you ga>e no gold to 
 nie. [foolishness. 
 
 Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your 
 And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd tiiy charge. 
 Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from 
 the mart 
 Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner; 
 Mv mistress, and her sister, stay for you. 
 
 'Ant. S. Now. as I am a Clinstiau, answer me, 
 !n what safe place you havt- bestow'd my money; 
 Or I shall break tiiat merry sconce ol yoms. 
 That stands on tricks, wtien 1 am undispos'd: 
 Will re is the thousand maiks tliou hadsl «.! me? 
 
 Dro. E. I have some maiks <.f yours upon my pate 
 Some of my mistiess' maiks upon my shouldfis. 
 But not a thousand marks between you both. — 
 if I should pay your worshii* those again. 
 Perchance, you will not bear them patiently. 
 
Act II. Scene 2. 
 
 COMEDY OP ERRORS, 
 
 253 
 
 Ani. S. Thy mistress' marks ! what mistress, 
 slave, hast thou? [Phcenix; 
 
 Dro. E. Vour worship's wife, my mistress at the 
 She that doth fast, till yon come home to dinner. 
 And pi-ays, that you will hie yoii home to dinner. 
 
 Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my 
 face, 
 Being forhid ? There, take you that, sir knave. 
 
 Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake, 
 hold your hands ; 
 Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other, 
 The villain is o'er-raught of all my money. 
 They say, this towu is full of cozenaji^e ; 
 As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye. 
 Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind. 
 Soul-killing witches, that deform the body; 
 Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, 
 And many such like liberties of sin: 
 If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. 
 I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave ; 
 I greatly fear, my money is not safe. [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A public Place. 
 
 Enter Adriana atid Luciana. 
 
 Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd, 
 That in such haste 1 sent lo seek his master ! 
 Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. 
 
 Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him. 
 And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. 
 Good sister, let us dine, and never fret : 
 A man is master of his liberty : 
 'I'ime is their master; and, when they see time, 
 'I'hey'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister. 
 
 Adr. VVhy should their liberty than ours be more? 
 
 Jjiic. Because their business still lies out o'door. 
 
 Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ilk 
 
 -Luc. O, know, he is the bridge of your will. 
 
 Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled so. 
 
 liitc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. 
 There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye. 
 But hath its bound, iu earth, in sea, iu sky : 
 'J"he beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls. 
 Are their males' subject, and at their controls : 
 Men, more divine, the masters of all these. 
 Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, 
 Indued with intellectual sense and souls. 
 Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
 Are masters to tlieir females, and their lords : 
 Then let your will attend on their accords. 
 
 Adr- This servitude makes you to keep unwed. 
 
 Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. 
 
 Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear 
 some sway. 
 
 Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. 
 
 Adr. How if your husband start some other where? 
 
 Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear. 
 
 Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she 
 pause ; 
 They can be meek, that have no other cause. 
 A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity. 
 We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; 
 But were we burden'd with like weight of pain. 
 As mucii, or more, we should ourselves complain : 
 So thou, tliat hast no unkind mate to grieve thee. 
 With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me: 
 But, if tiiou live to see like right bereft. 
 This fool-begg'd patience in thee will he left. 
 
 Luc. Well, 1 will marry one day, but to try ; — 
 Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
 
 Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? 
 Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and 
 that iMy two ears can Witness. 
 
 Adr. S.iy, didst thou speak with him ? know'st 
 
 tliou his mind ? 
 Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: 
 
 Beshrevv his hand, 1 scarce could understand it 
 
 Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thuu couldst nol 
 feel his meaning? 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too 
 well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that 
 I could scarce understand them. 
 
 Adr. But say, 1 pr'ythee, is he coming home? 
 It seems, he hath great care to please his wife. 
 Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn 
 
 mad ! 
 Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain? [stark mad; 
 
 Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; but, sure, he's 
 When I desir'd him to come home to dinner. 
 He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold : 
 'Til dinner-time, quoth \ ; Mij (jold, quoth he : 
 Your meat doth burn, quotli 1 ; My gold, quoth he: 
 Will you come home! quoth I ; My gold, quoth he : 
 Where is the thousand marks I ynve thee, villain? 
 The pig, quoth I is burtid; My gold, quotli he; 
 My 7nisire.<is. sir, quoth I ; Haiig up thy mistress ; 
 1 know not thy mistress ; out on thy mistress ! 
 Luc. Quoth who? 
 Dro. E. Quoth my master : 
 / know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no niistress ; — 
 So that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
 I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; 
 For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 
 
 Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him 
 
 home. 
 Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home ? 
 For God's sake, send some other messenger. 
 
 Adr. Bapk, slave, or I will break thy head across. 
 
 Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other 
 
 beating : 
 
 Between you I shall have a holy head. [home. 
 
 Adr. Hence, prating peasant; fetch thy master 
 
 Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you witii uie, 
 
 'That like a football you do spurn me thus? 
 
 You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: 
 
 If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Luc. Fy, how impatience loweieth in jour face ! 
 Adr. His company must do his minions grace, 
 Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
 Hath homely aye the alluring beauty took 
 From my poor cheek ? then he hath wasted it : 
 Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? 
 If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, 
 Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. 
 Do their gay vestments his atiections bait ? 
 That's not my fault, he's master of my state , 
 What ruins are in me, that can be found 
 By him not riiin'd ? then is he the ground 
 Of my defeatures : My decayed fair 
 A sunny look of his would soon repair: 
 But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, 
 .\nd feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale. 
 Luc. Self-harming jealousy ! — fy, beat it hence. 
 Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dis- 
 pense. 
 I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ; 
 Or else, what lets it but he would be here ? 
 Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ;— 
 Would that alone alone he would detain. 
 So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! 
 I see, the jewel, best enamelled. 
 Will lose his beauty ; and though gold 'bides still 
 That others touch, yet often touching will 
 Wear gold : and so no man, that hath a name. 
 But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
 Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, | 
 
 I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. > 
 
 Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ! \ 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene \l.—The same. 
 Enter Antipholvs of Syracuse. 
 Ant. S. The gold, 1 gave to Dromio, is laid up 
 Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave 
 Is wander'd forth, iu care to seek me out 
 
254 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 By compntalion, and mine host's report, 
 
 ( could not speak wiih Droinio, since at first 
 
 r sent him from the mart : See, here he comes. 
 
 . Enter Drom'o of Syracuse. 
 How now, sir? is your merry humour aiter'd ; 
 As you love strokes, so jest with me affain. 
 Yo;i know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold? 
 Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner ? 
 My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad. 
 That thus so madly thou didst answer me ? 
 
 Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such 
 a word V [s'Qce. 
 
 An(. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour 
 Dro. S. 1 did not see you since you sent me hence, 
 Home to the Centaur, with tiie jrold you gave me. 
 Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's re- 
 ceipt ; 
 And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; 
 For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. 
 
 Dro. S. I am glad to see yon in this merry vein : 
 What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. 
 Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the 
 teeth ? 
 Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, and 
 that. {Beating him.) 
 
 Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake : now your jest 
 is earnest : 
 Upon what bargain do yon give it me ? 
 
 Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometime 
 Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, 
 Your sauciness will jest upon my love. 
 And make a common of my serious hours. 
 When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport. 
 But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams. 
 If yon will jest with me, know my aspect. 
 And fashion your demeanour to my looks, 
 Or I will beat tiiis method in your sconce. 
 
 Dro. S. Sconce, call you it ; so yon would leave 
 battering, I had rather have il a head ; an you use 
 these blows long, I must get a sconce for ray head, 
 and ensconce it too ; or else I shall seek my wit in 
 my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten? 
 Ant. S. Dost thou not know ^ 
 Dro. S. Nothing, sir; but that 1 am beaten. 
 Ant. S. Shall I tell you why? 
 Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say, 
 every why hath a wherefore. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, first— for flouting me; and then, 
 wherefore, — 
 For urging it the second time to me. 
 Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out 
 of season ? 
 When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither 
 
 rhyme nor reason ? 
 Well, sir, i thank you. 
 Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what? 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something, that you 
 gave me for nothing. 
 
 Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you 
 nothing for something. But say, sir, is it dinner 
 time ? [have- 
 
 Dro. S. No, sir; 1 think, the meat wants that I 
 Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that ? 
 Dro. S. Basting. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. 
 Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. 
 Ant. S. Your reason ? 
 ' Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase 
 me another dry basting. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time ; 
 There's a time for all things. 
 
 Dro. S. I durst have denied that, before you were 
 ■o cho)ervj. 
 
 Ant. S. By what rule, sir ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain 
 bald pate of father Time himself. 
 Ant. S. Let's hear it. 
 
 Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his 
 hair, tnat grows bald by nature. 
 
 Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery? 
 Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for his peruke, and 
 recover the lost hair of another man. 
 
 Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, be- 
 ing, as it is, so plentifid an excrement ? 
 
 Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows 
 on beasts : and what he hath scanted men in hair, 
 he hath eiven them in wit. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more 
 
 hair tiian wit. [to lose hi;? hair. 
 
 Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath the wit 
 
 A7it. S. Why, thou didst coneUule hairy men plain 
 
 dealers without wit. 
 
 Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: Yet 
 he loseth it in a kii d of jollity. 
 Ant. S. For what reason? 
 Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too. 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. 
 Dro. S. Sure ones, then. 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 
 Dro. a. Certain ones, then. 
 Ant. S. Name them. 
 
 Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends 
 in tiring : the other, that at dinner they should not 
 drop in his porridge. 
 
 Ant. S. You would all this time have proved, 
 there is no time for all things. 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to 
 recover hair lost by nature. 
 
 Ant. S. But yotn- reason was not substantial, why 
 there is no time to recoNer. 
 
 Dro. S. Thus 1 mend it: Time himself is bald, 
 and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 Ant. S. I knew, 'twould he a bald conclusion : 
 But soft ! who wafts us yonder ? 
 
 Enter Adriana and Luciana. 
 Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown; 
 Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 
 I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
 The time was once, when thou unurg'd wouldst vow, 
 That never words were music to thine ear, 
 That never object pleasing in thine eye. 
 That never touch well-welcome to thy hand. 
 That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy ta,ste. 
 Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. 
 How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it, 
 That thou art then estranged from thyself: 
 Thyself I call it, being strange to me, 
 That, undividable, incorporate. 
 Am better than thy dear self's better part. 
 Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ; 
 For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall 
 A drop of water in the breaking gulph. 
 And take unmingled thence that drop again. 
 Without addition, or diminishing. 
 As take from me thyself, and not me too. 
 How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 
 Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious? 
 And that this body, consecrate to thee. 
 By ruffian lust should be contaminate ? 
 Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at rae. 
 And hurl the name of husband in my face. 
 And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow, 
 And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring. 
 And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ? 
 I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou do iL 
 I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; 
 My blood is mingled with the crime of lust : 
 For, if we two be one, and thou play false, 
 I do digest the poison of thy flesh. 
 Being strumpeted by thy contagion. 
 Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed; 
 1 live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured. 
 
 Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know yon 
 In Ephesus I am out two hours old, [not . 
 
 As strange unto your town, as to your talk; 
 Who, every word by all my wit being .icann d, 
 Want wit in all one word to understand. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 255 
 
 Luc. Fy, brother ! how the world is chaiig'd with 
 yon I 
 When were yon wont to use my sister thus? 
 She sent lor you by Dromio home to dinner. 
 A7it. S. By Dromio? 
 
 Dro. S. By nie ? fiiim,— 
 
 Adr. By tliee ; and this tlioii didst retnrn I'rom 
 That lie did buftet liiee, and, in his blows, 
 Denied my house lor his, me for his wife. 
 Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentle- 
 woman ? 
 What is (he course and drift of your compact? 
 Dro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time. 
 A7it. S. Villain, thou liest ; for even her very words 
 Didst thou deliver to me on the, mart. 
 Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life. 
 Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our 
 names, ' 
 Unless it be by inspiration? 
 
 Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity, 
 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
 Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ? 
 Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, 
 But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. 
 Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine : 
 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine; 
 Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, 
 Makes me with thy strength to communicate : 
 If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, 
 Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; 
 Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion 
 Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. 
 
 Ant. S. To me she speaks ; she moves me for her 
 theme : 
 What, was I married to her in my dream ? 
 Orslee]) I now, and think I hear all tiiis? 
 What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? 
 Until I know this suie uncertainty, 
 I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. 
 
 Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for 
 
 diimer. 
 Dro, S. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a 
 sinner. > 
 
 This is the fairy land ; — O, spite of spites ! — 
 We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites; 
 If we obey them not, this will ensue. 
 They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. 
 Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st 
 not ? [sot ? 
 
 Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou 
 Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I ? 
 Ant. S. I tiiink, thou art, in mind, and so am I. 
 Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my 
 
 shape. 
 Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. 
 Dro. S. No, I am an ape. 
 
 Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 'tis to an ass. 
 Dro. S. 'Tis true ; she rides me, and I long for 
 grass. , 
 
 'Tis so, 1 am an ass; else it could never be. 
 But I should know her, as well as she knows rae. 
 
 Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool. 
 To put the finger in the eye and weep, 
 Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn. — 
 Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate ; — 
 Husband, I'll dine above with you today. 
 And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks : — 
 Sirrah, if any ask you for your master. 
 Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. — 
 Come, sister: — Dromio, play the porter well. 
 
 Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 
 Sleeping or waking? mad, or well-advis'd ? 
 Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd ! 
 I'll say as they say, and persever so. 
 And in this mist at all adventures go. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ? 
 Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your 
 
 pate. 
 Lttc. Come, come, Antipholu«, we dine too late. 
 
 (Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 
 Enter Antipholus ofEp/iestts, Dkomig ofEphestu, 
 Angelo, and Balthazar, 
 A7tt. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse 
 us all ; 
 My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours : 
 Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop. 
 To see the making of her carkanet. 
 And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 
 But here's a villain tliat would face nie down; 
 He met me on the mart: and that I beat him. 
 And cliarg'd him with a thousand marks in gold J 
 And that I did deny my wife and house : 
 Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by 
 this? (1 know; 
 
 Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what 
 That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to 
 show: [^a\e were ink. 
 
 If the skin were parchment, and the blows you 
 Your own hand-writing would tell you what 1 think. 
 Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. 
 Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear 
 
 By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. 
 I should kick, being kick'd ; and being at that pass. 
 You would keep from my heels, and beware of an 
 ass. 
 Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar : 'Pray 
 God, our cheer [here. 
 
 May answer my good will, and your good welcome 
 Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your 
 I welcome dear. [fish, 
 
 I Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or 
 A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. 
 Bal. Good meat, sir, is common ; that every 
 
 churl affords. 
 Ant. E. And welcome more common; for that's 
 
 nothing but words. 
 Bal. Small cheer, and great v/elconie, makes a 
 merry feast. [ing guest: 
 
 Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and in.ne spar- 
 But, though my cates be mean, take tlif'm in good 
 part; [heart. 
 
 Better cheer may you have, but not with better 
 But, soft; my door is lock'd; Go bid them let us 
 in. [Jen ! 
 
 Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, 
 Dro. S. ( Within.) Mome, malt-horse, capon, 
 coxcomb, idiot, patch! 
 Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the 
 hatch : [such store. 
 
 Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for 
 When one is one too many ? Go, get thee from 
 the door. 
 Dro. E. What patch is made our porter ?_jVIy 
 
 master stays in the street. 
 Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest 
 
 he catch cold on's feet. 
 Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, open the door. 
 Dro. S. Right, sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll 
 
 tell me wherefore. 
 Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner? I have not 
 
 din'd to-day. 
 Dro. S. Nor to-aay here you must not; come 
 
 again, when you may. 
 .4??^ E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from 
 
 the house I owe ? 
 Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my 
 
 name is Dromio. 
 Dro. E. O villain, thou hast stolen both mine 
 office and my name ; [blame. 
 
 The one ne'er got me credit, the other niickle 
 If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, 
 Thou woiddst have chang'd thy tace for a name, or 
 thy name for an ass. 
 Luce. {Within.) What a coil is there ! Dromio, 
 
 who are those at the gate ? 
 Dro. E. Let my master in. Luce. 
 Luce. Faith no ; he comes too late; 
 
256 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 And so tell your master. 
 
 Dru. E. O lord, i must laugh : — 
 
 Have at yon with a proverb. — Shall I set iti my 
 
 sta/r? [can you tell 1 
 
 Luce. H;ive at yon with another : that's, — When ? 
 
 Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou 
 
 hast ansvver'd him well. 
 Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us 
 
 in, I hope ? 
 Luck. I thought to have ask'd you. 
 Dro. S. And you said no. 
 
 Dro. E. So, come, help ; well struck ; there was 
 blow for blow. 
 ' Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. 
 Luce. Can yon tell for whose sake? 
 
 Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. 
 Litce. Let him knock till it ache. 
 
 Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the 
 
 door down. 
 Luce. What needs all this, and a pair of stocks 
 
 in file town ? 
 Adr. Ul'Uhin.) Who is that at the door, that 
 keeps all this noise ? [unruly boys. 
 
 Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with 
 Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? you might have 
 come before. [door. 
 
 Adr. Your vvife, sir knave ! go, get you from the 
 Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave 
 
 would go sore. 
 Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome ; 
 
 we would fain have either. 
 Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part 
 
 with neither. 
 Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid 
 
 them welcome hither. 
 Ant. E. There is sometiiing in the wind, that we 
 
 cannot get in. 
 Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your gar- 
 ments were thin. 
 Y'our cake here is warm within; yon stand here in 
 the cold : [and sold. 
 
 It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought 
 Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope 
 fiie gate. [your knave's pate. 
 
 Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break 
 Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir ; 
 and words are but wind ; [behind. 
 
 Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not 
 Dro. S. It seems thou wantest breaking : Out 
 
 upon thee, hind ! 
 Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee ! I pray 
 
 thee, let me in. 
 
 Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and 
 
 tish have no fin. [crow. 
 
 A7il. E. Well, I'll break in: Go, borrow me a 
 
 Dro. E. A crow without a feather ; master, mean 
 
 you so .' 
 
 [feather: 
 
 For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl withoat a 
 If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow to- 
 ttether. [now. 
 
 Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron 
 Bal. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so; 
 Herein yon war against your reputation. 
 And draw within the compass of suspect 
 The unviolated honour of your wife. 
 Once this, — Your long experience of her wisdom. 
 Her sober virtue, years, and modesty. 
 Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ; 
 And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 
 Why at tliis time the doors are made against you. 
 Be rni'd by me ; depart in patience, 
 Ard let MS to the Tiger all to dinner : 
 And, about evening, come yourself alone. 
 To know tlie reason of this strange restraint. 
 If by strong hatrd you offer to break in, 
 Now in the stirring passage of tlie day, 
 A vulgar comment will be made on it; 
 And tliat supposed by the common rout 
 Against your yet uugalled estimation. 
 That may with foul intrusion enter in. 
 
 And dwell upon your grave when you are dead : 
 For slander lives upon succession ; 
 For ever lious'd, where it once gets possession. 
 Ant. E. You have prevail'd ; I will depart ia 
 quiet, 
 And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 
 I know a wench of excellent discourse, — 
 Pretty and witty ; wild and yet, too, gentle ; — 
 lliere will we dine : this woman that I mean. 
 My wife {but 1 protest, without desert,) 
 Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal ; 
 'i'o her will we to dinner. — Get you home. 
 And fetch the chain ; by this, I know, 'tis made : 
 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine; 
 For there's the house ; that chain will I bestow 
 (Be it f()r nothing but to spite my wife,) 
 Upon mine hostess there : good sir, make haste : 
 Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 
 I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. 
 
 Any. I'll meet you at that place, some hour 
 hence. 
 
 Ant. E. Do so; this jest shall cost mp somt- 
 expense. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — T/ie same. 
 Enter Luci.\na «nc/ Antipholl's of Syracuse. 
 Luc. And may it be, that you have quite forgot 
 A husband's ofKce ? shall, Antipliolns, hate. 
 Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? 
 
 Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ? 
 If you did wed my sister for her wealth, 
 
 'i'hen, for her wealth's sake, use her with more 
 kindness : 
 Or. if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; 
 Muffle your false love with some show of blind 
 ness : 
 Let not my sister read it in your eye ; 
 
 Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ; 
 Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ; 
 
 Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger: 
 Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ; 
 
 Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; 
 Be secret-false : What need she be ac(|uainted ? 
 
 What simple thief brags of his own attaint'/ 
 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed. 
 And let her read it in thy looks at board : 
 Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ; 
 
 III deeds are doubled with an evil word. 
 Alas, |,oor women ! make us but believe, 
 
 Being compact of credit, that you love us ; 
 Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve; 
 We in your motion turn, and you may move us. 
 Then, gentle brother, get you in again; 
 
 Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife ; 
 'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain. 
 
 When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. 
 Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, 
 I know not. 
 Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine,) 
 Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you 
 show not. 
 Than our earth's wonder ; more than earth divine. 
 Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ; 
 
 Lay open to my earthly gross conceit, 
 Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak. 
 
 The folded meaning of your words' deceit. 
 Against my soul's pure truth why labour you. 
 
 To make it wander in an unknown field ? 
 Are you a god ? would you create me new ? 
 
 Traiislbrm me then, and to your power I'll yield. 
 But if that I am I, then well I know. 
 
 Your weeping sister is no wife of mine. 
 Nor to her bed no homage do I owe ; 
 
 Far more, far more, to you do 1 decline. 
 O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note. 
 
 To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears; 
 Sing, siren, for thyself, and 1 vvill dote : 
 
 Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs. 
 Ami as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie ; 
 And. >i tiiat glorious supposition, think 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 257 
 
 He fjains by death, that hath such means to die : — 
 
 Let love, being light, be drowned il sli« sinii! 
 
 Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so? 
 
 Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not 
 know. 
 
 Luc. It is a fanit, that springeth from yonr eye. 
 
 Ant. S.' For gazing on your beams, fair sun, 
 being by. [y«ur sight. 
 
 Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear 
 
 Ant. S. As good to wink, swett love, as look on 
 night. 
 
 Lvc. Why call yon me love ? call my sister so. 
 
 Ant, S. Thy sister's .sister. 
 
 Luf. That's my sister. 
 
 Att. S. No ; 
 
 Jt is thyself, mine own self's better part; 
 Mine eye"s clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart ; 
 My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, 
 My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's clain). 
 
 Luc. Ail this my sister is, or else should be. 
 
 Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, fori aim thee: 
 Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ; 
 Thou hast uo husband yet, nor I no wile : 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 Luc. O, soft, sir, hold you still ; 
 
 I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. [Exit. 
 
 Enter, from the house of Antipholus of Ephesus, 
 Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio ? where ruu'st 
 thou so fast ? 
 
 Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? iira I Dromio? 
 am I your nwn ? am I myself? 
 
 Ant. S. Ttiou art Drouiio, thou art my man, thou 
 art thyself 
 
 Dro. S. I am an ass, 1 am a woman's man, and 
 besides niysflf. (thyself? 
 
 Ant. S. What woman's man ? and how besides 
 
 Dro. S. .Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to 
 a woman; one tliat claims me, one that haunts me, 
 one tiiat will have me. 
 
 Ant. S What claim lays she to thee ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay 
 to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast : 
 nut that, I being a beast, she would have me ; but 
 that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim 
 
 Ant. S. What is she ? (to me. 
 
 Dro. S. A very reverent body ; ay, such a one 
 as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir- 
 reverence : 1 have but lean luck in the match, and 
 yet is she a wondrous fat marriage ? 
 
 Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wencti, and 
 aU grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, 
 but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by 
 her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow 
 in them, vvill burn a Poland winter : if she lives 
 till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the 
 whole world. 
 
 Ant. S. What complexion is she of? 
 
 Dfo. S. Swai-t, like my shoe, but her face nothing 
 like .So clean kept; For why, she sweats, a man may 
 go over shoes in the grime of it. 
 
 Ant. S. That's a fault, that water will mend. 
 
 Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood could 
 
 Ant. S. What's her name ? (not do it. 
 
 Dro. S. Nell, sir; — but her name and three 
 quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will not 
 measure her from hip to hip. 
 
 Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth ? 
 
 Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from 
 hip to hip- she is spherical, like a globe; I could 
 find out countries in her. 
 
 Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks ; I found it 
 out by the bogs. 
 
 Ant. S. Where Scotland ? 
 
 Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness ; hard, in the 
 palm of tiie hand. 
 
 Ant. S. Where France ? 
 
 Dro. S. In her forehead ; armed and reverted, 
 
 making war against her hair. 
 
 Ant. S. Where England? 
 
 Dro. S. I loiiked for the cha'' v clifTs, biit I could 
 find no whiteness in them ; but I guess, it stood in 
 her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France 
 and it. 
 
 Ant. S. Where Spain? [her breath. 
 
 Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it, hot in 
 
 Ant, S. Wiiere America, the Indies ? 
 
 Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embel- 
 lished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining' 
 their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain ; who sent 
 whole armadiis of carracks, to be ballast to her nose. 
 
 Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, (he Netherlands? 
 
 Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To con- 
 clude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; 
 called me Dromio ; swore, I was assured to her ; 
 told me what privy marks I had about me, as the 
 mark on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the 
 great wart on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran 
 from her as a witch : and, I think, if my breast 
 had not been made of faith, and my heart of steel, 
 she had transformed me to a curtail-dog, and made 
 me turn i'the wheel. 
 
 Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road; 
 And if the wind blow any way from shore, 
 I will not harbour in this town to-night. 
 If any bark put forth, come to the mart. 
 Where I will walk till thou return to me. 
 If every one know ns, and we know none, 
 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. 
 
 Dro. S. As from a bear a man would ruu lor life, 
 So fly I from her, that would be my wife. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here ; 
 And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. 
 She, that doth call me husband, even my sou 
 Doth for a wife abhor : but her fair sister, 
 Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace. 
 Of such enchanting presence and discourse. 
 Hath almost made me traitor to myself; 
 But, lest myself be guilty to self wrong, 
 I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. 
 
 Enter Angelo. 
 
 Ang. Master Antipholus ? 
 
 Am. S. Ay, that's my name. 
 
 Anff. I know it well, sir; Lo, here is the chain : 
 I thought to have ta'en you at the Porcupine : 
 The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. 
 
 Ant. S. What is your will, that I shall do wi(h 
 this •• [for you. 
 
 Ang. What please yonrself, sir ; I have made it 
 
 Ant. S. Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not. 
 
 Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you 
 have : 
 Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; 
 And soon at supper-time I'll visit you. 
 And then receive my money for the chain. 
 
 Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, 
 For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. 
 
 Ang. You are a merry man, sir; (are you well. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. What I should think of this I cannot 
 But this I think, there's no man is so vain, [tell: 
 That would refuse so fair an ofTer'd chain. 
 I see, a man here needs not live by shifts. 
 When in the streets he meets such golden gift*. 
 I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay ; 
 If any ship put out, then straight away. [Blxit, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The same 
 Enter a Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer. 
 Mer. You know, since Pentecost the sum is due 
 
 And since I ha\e not mui h iniportun'd you ; 
 
 Nor now I had not, but that I am bound 
 
 To Persia, and want giid^rs lor my voyage: 
 
 Therefore make present satisfaction, 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Or I'll attach yoii by this officer. 
 
 Ang. Even jugt the sum, that I do owe to you. 
 Is growing to me by Antipholus : 
 And in the instant, that I met with you, 
 Me had ofnie a chain; at five o'clock, 
 i shall recei\e the money for the same: 
 Flensetii you walk with me down to his house, 
 I will discharge tny bond, and thank you too. 
 
 Enter Antjpholus of Ephesus, and Dromio of 
 Ephestts. 
 
 Off. That labour may you save ; see where he 
 conies. [thou 
 
 Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go 
 And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow 
 Among my wii'e and her confederates. 
 For locking me out of my doors by day. — 
 But soft, I see the goldsmith : — get thee gone ; 
 Hiiy tlioti a rope, and bring it home to ine. 
 £)ro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year! I buy 
 a rope f [Exit Dromio. 
 
 Ant. E. A man is well liolp up, that trusts to 
 you : 
 I promised your presence, and the chain; 
 But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me : 
 Belike, you thought our love would last too long. 
 If it were chaiu'd together; and therefore came 
 not. 
 Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note. 
 How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat ; 
 The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion ; 
 Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 
 Than I stand debted to this gentleman : 
 I pray yon, see him presently discharg'd. 
 For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. 
 
 Ant. E. I am not I'urnish'd with the present 
 money ; 
 Besides, I have some business in the town : 
 Good signior, take the stranger to my house. 
 And with you take the chain, and bid my wife 
 Dishinse the sum on the receipt thereof; 
 Perchance, I will be there as soon as you. 
 Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her your- 
 self? [time enough. 
 Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not 
 Ang. Well, sir, I will: have you the chain 
 
 about you ? • 
 
 Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have ; 
 Or else you may return without your money. 
 
 Ang. Nay, come, 1 pray you, sir, give me the 
 chain ; 
 Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman. 
 And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 
 Atit. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to 
 excuse 
 Your breach of promise to the Porcupine : 
 I should have chid you for not bringing it. 
 But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 
 Aler. The hoar steals on : I pray you, sir, de- 
 spatch, [chain — 
 Ang. You hear how he importunes me ; the 
 A7it. E. VVhy, give it to my wife, and fetch 
 your money. [now ; 
 Ang, Come, come, you know, I "ave it you even 
 Either send the ch.iin, or send me oy some token. 
 Ant. E. Fy ! now you run this humour out of 
 breath : [it. 
 Come, where's the chain? I pray yoii. let me see 
 
 Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance : 
 Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no ; 
 If not, I II leave him to the officer. 
 Ant. E. I answer you ! What should I answer 
 
 you ? 
 Ang. 'I'he money, that yon owe me for the chain. 
 Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain. 
 Ang. Yon know, I gave it you half an hour 
 
 since. 
 Ant. E. You gave nie none; you wrong me 
 
 much to say so. 
 Ang You wrong nie more, sir, in denying it| 
 
 Consider, how it stands upon my credit., 
 
 Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit 
 
 Off. I do; and charge you, in the duke's name 
 to obey me. 
 
 Ang. This touches me in reputation : — 
 Either consent to pay this sum for me. 
 Or I attach you by this otficer. 
 
 Ant. E. Consent to ,pay thee that I never had I 
 Arrest nie, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Ang. Here is thy fee ; arrest him, officer : 
 I would not spare my brother in this case. 
 If he should scorn me so apparently. 
 
 Off. I do arrest you, sir; you hear the suit. 
 
 Ant. E. I do obey thee, till 1 gi\e thee hail : — 
 But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear 
 As all the metal in your shop will answer. 
 
 Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, 
 To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. 
 
 Enter DROiaio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnuni, 
 That stays but till her owner comes aboard. 
 And then,, sir, bears away : our fraughtage, sir, 
 I have convey'd aboard ; and I have bought 
 The oil, the balsamum, and aqna-vita\ 
 The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind 
 Blows fair from land : they stay for nought at all. 
 But for their owner, master, and yourself. 
 
 Ant. E. How now! a madman'? Why, thou 
 peevish sheep. 
 What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ? 
 
 Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. 
 
 Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee lor a 
 rope; 
 And told thee to what purpose, and what end. 
 
 Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's end as soon: 
 You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. 
 
 Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure, 
 And teach your ears to listen with more heed. 
 To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight., 
 Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk 
 That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry. 
 There is a purse of ducats ; let her send it ; 
 Tell her I am arrested in the street, 
 And that shall bail me : hie thee, slave ; be gone. 
 On, officer, to prison, till it con.e. 
 
 [Exeunt Merchant, Angelo, Officer, and Ant. E 
 
 Dro. S. To Adriana! that is where we din'd, 
 Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband ; 
 She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. 
 Thither I must, although against my will, 
 For servants must their masters' minds fulfil, [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. 
 Enter Adriana and Luciana. 
 Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? 
 Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye. 
 That he did plead in earnest, yea or no :* 
 
 Look'd he or red, or pale ; or sad, or merrily '' 
 What observation mad'st thou in this case. 
 Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ? 
 Euc. First, he deuied you had in him no right 
 Adr. He m.eant, he did me none ; the more ni) 
 
 spite. 
 Luc. Then swore Ims, that he was a stranger here. 
 Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he 
 Luc. Then pleaded 1 for you. [were. 
 
 Adr, And what said he ? 
 
 Luc. That love, I begg'd for you, he begg'd ol 
 
 me. 
 Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy 
 love ? [move. 
 
 Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might 
 First, he did praise my beauty ; then, my speech. 
 A dr. Did'st speak him fair ? 
 Luc. Have patience, I beseech 
 
 Adr, I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; 
 My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his 
 He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, [will; 
 
 lll-fac'd, worse-bodied, shapeless every where, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 259 
 
 Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blnpt, iiukind ; 
 StigiiuilicHl in making, worse in niiud. 
 
 Lnc. Who wuiild be jealous then of such a one . 
 No evil lost is vvail'd when it is gone. 
 Adr. AU: hut I tliirtik. him better than I say, 
 And yet would herein others' «yes were worse: 
 Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; 
 
 My heart prays for him, though my tongue do 
 curse. 
 
 Enter Dro.^iio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Here, go ; the desk, the purse ; sweet 
 
 now, make haste. 
 Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath? 
 Dro. S. % running fast. 
 
 Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well ? 
 Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell: 
 A devil in an everlasting garment bath him. 
 One, whose hard heart is button'd up with .steel ; 
 A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ; 
 A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; 
 A backfriend, a shoulder-clapper, one that coun- 
 termands 
 The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands; 
 A hound, that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot 
 well ; . [hell. 
 
 One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to 
 Adr. \VUy, man, what is the matter ;' 
 Dro. S. I do not know the matter; he' is 'rested 
 on the case. [suit. 
 
 Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose 
 Dro. S. i know nut at wliose suit he is arrested, 
 well; [can I tell: 
 
 But he's in a suit of buff, which 'rested him, that 
 Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money 
 in the desk ? 
 Adr, Go fetch it, sister. — This I wonder at. 
 
 [Exit huciana. 
 That he, unknown to me, should be in debt : — 
 Tell me, was he arrested on a band ? 
 
 Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing : 
 
 A chain, a chain ; do you not hear it ring? 
 
 Adr. What, the chain? [gone. 
 
 Dro. S No, no, the bell : 'tis time, that I were 
 
 It was two ere 1 left him, and now the clock strikes 
 
 oue. [hear. 
 
 Adr, The hours come back! that did I ne\er 
 
 Dro. S. O, yes, if any hour meet a sergeant, a 
 
 'turns back for very fear. 
 Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly dost 
 
 thou reason ? 
 Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more 
 than he's worth, to season. 
 Nay, he's a thief too : have you not heard men say, 
 That time comes stealing on by night and day '? 
 If he be in debt, an<l theft, and a sergeant in the way, 
 Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ? 
 
 Enter Luciana. 
 
 Adr, Go, Dromio; there's the money, bear it 
 straight ; 
 And bring thy master home immediately. — 
 Come, sister; 1 am press'd down with conceit ; 
 Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The satne. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, 
 Ant. S. There's not a man I meet, but doth 
 
 salute Die 
 As if I were their well-acquainted friend; 
 And every one doth call me by my name. 
 Some lender money to me, some invite me ; 
 Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; 
 Some offer me commodities to buy : 
 E\ en now a tailor call'd me in his shop, 
 And show'd me silks that he had bought for me 
 And, tlierewithal, took measure of my body. 
 Sure these are but imaginary wiles, 
 And l/itplaud sorcerers inhabit here 
 
 Enter Dkomio of Syrarusr.. 
 
 Dr«. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for; 
 What, have you got the picture of old Adaiii new 
 apparell'd? [thouiuHan? 
 
 Ant. S. What gold is this? What Ad;un dost 
 
 Dro. S. Not that Adam, tliat kept the paradise 
 but that Adam, that keeps the prison : he, that go 
 in the calf"s-skin, that was killed for the prodiga 
 he, that came behind you, sir, like an evil atjg 
 and bid you forsake your liberty. 
 
 Ant. S. I understand thee not. 
 
 Dro. S. No ? why, 'tis a plain case : he that went 
 like a base-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, 
 that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a fob, 
 and 'rests them ; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed 
 men, and gives them suits of durance ; he, that sets 
 up his rest to do more exploits with his mace, than 
 a morris-pike. 
 
 Ant. S. What ! thou mean'st an officer ? 
 
 Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band; he 
 that brings any man to answer it, that breaks his 
 band; one, that thinks a man always going to bed, 
 and says, God (jive you tjood rest ! 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is 
 there any ship puts forth tonight? may we be 
 gone ? 
 
 Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour 
 since, that the bark. Expedition, put forth to night ; 
 and then were you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry 
 for the hoy. Delay : Here are the angels that you 
 sent for, to deliver you. 
 
 Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I ; 
 And here we wander in illusions; 
 Some blessed power deliver us from hence! 
 
 Enter a Courtezan, 
 
 Cour. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. 
 I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now : 
 Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day ? 
 
 Ant. S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee tempt me not! 
 
 Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan ? 
 
 Ant. S. It is the devil. 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam ; 
 and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; 
 and thereof comes that the wenches say, Gvi 
 damn me, that's as much as to say, God make 
 me a liyht ivench. It is written, they ai,ptar to men 
 like angels of light : light is an etlect of fire, and fire 
 will burn ; ergo, light wenches will burn ; Coi«ie not 
 near her. [sir. 
 
 Cour. Your man and you are marvellous meiry. 
 Will you go with me ? We'll mend our dinner here. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, or 
 bespeak a long spoon. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, Dromio? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, he must ha\e a long sp«cn, that 
 must eat with the devil. 
 
 Ant. S, Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me 
 of supping? 
 Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress: 
 I conjure tliee to leave me, and be gone. 
 
 Cour. Gi\ e me the ring of mine you had at dinner. 
 Or, (or my diamond, the chain you promis'd ; 
 Ar.d I'll h'e gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 
 Dro. S. Some devils ask but the j^ariug of ono'» 
 nail, 
 A rush, a hair, a drop of blond, a pin, 
 A nut, a cherry-stone; but she, more covetous. 
 Would have a chain. 
 Master, be wise; an' if you give it her, 
 The devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it. 
 
 Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else ttie chain; 
 I hope, voii do not mean to cheat me so. 
 
 Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch ! Come, Dromio, let 
 us go. 
 
 Dro. S, Fly pride, says the peacock : Mistresa, 
 that you know. 
 
 [Exeunt Ani. S. and Dro, S, 
 
 Cour. Now, out oi'doi.bt, .Antipholus is mad- 
 
360 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Else would he never so demean himself: 
 
 A ring he hath of mine worih forty ducats, 
 
 And lor the same he promis'd me a chiiin ; 
 
 Both one, and other, lie denies me now. 
 
 The reason that I gather he is mad, 
 
 (Besides this present instance of his rage,) 
 
 is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner. 
 
 Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. 
 
 JJelike, his wiie, ai quainted witli his fits. 
 
 On purpose shut the door against his way. 
 
 My way is now, to hie home to his house, 
 
 And tell his wife, that, being lunatic, 
 
 He rush d into my house, and took perforce 
 
 .My ring away ; This course 1 fittest choose ; 
 
 For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — T/ie same. 
 Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, and on Officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Fear me not. man, 1 will not break away ; 
 I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money 
 To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. 
 My wife is iu a wayward mood today ; 
 And will not lightly trust the messenger, 
 That I should be attach'd in EphesiiS : 
 I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus, with a rope's end. 
 Here comes my man ; I think, he brings the money. 
 How now, sir ^ have you that'l sent you fur V 
 
 Dro. E. Here's that, 1 warrant you, will pay them 
 all. 
 
 Ant. E. But where's the nnney ? 
 
 Vro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. 
 
 Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope ? 
 
 Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. 
 
 Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home i 
 
 Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir ; and to that end am 
 1 return'd. 
 
 Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome 
 you. {Beating him.) 
 
 Off". Good sir, be patient. (adversity. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in 
 
 Off". Good now, hold thy tongue. [hands. 
 
 2)ro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his 
 
 Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain! 
 
 Dro. E. I would 1 were senseless, sir, that 1 might 
 not feel your blows. 
 
 Ant. E. 'I'liou art sensible in nothing but blows, 
 and so is an ass. 
 
 Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you may prove it 
 by my long ears. I have served him from the hour 
 of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at 
 bis hands for my service but blows : When 1 am 
 cold, he heats me with beating : when I am warm, 
 he cools me with beating. I am waked with it, when 
 I sleep; raised with it, when I sit; driven out ot 
 doors with it, when I go from home; welcomed 
 home with it, when 1 return : Nay, 1 bear it on my 
 shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ; and, I think, 
 when he hath lamed me, I shall beg with it from 
 door to door. 
 
 Enter Adri.\n.\, Luciana., and the Courtezan, 
 with Pinch, and others. 
 
 Ant. E. Come, go along ; my wife is coming 
 yonder. 
 
 Dro. E. Mistress, respice Jinem, respect your 
 end ; or rather the prophecy, like the parrot. Beware 
 {he rope's end. 
 
 Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk? {Beats him.) 
 
 (Jour. How say yon now? is not your husband mad .■' 
 
 Adr. His incivility confirms uo less. — 
 Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; 
 Cstxtilish him in Ins true sense again, 
 And I will please you what you will demand. 
 
 Luc. Alas, Ikiw fiery a'td how .sharp he looks! 
 
 Cotir Mark, how he trembles in his ecsta<-y ! 
 
 Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your 
 
 /iilse. 
 There i» my hand, and let it feel your ear. 
 
 Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, lious'd within this 
 man. 
 To yield possession to my holy prayers. 
 And to thy state of daikness hie thee straight; 
 1 conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. 
 Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace ; I am not 
 
 mad. 
 Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul ! 
 Ant. E. You, million, you, are these your cus- 
 tomers ? 
 Did this companion with the saffron face 
 Revel and least it at my house to driy, 
 Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut. 
 And i denied to enter in my house V 
 Adr. O husband, God tloth know, you din'd at 
 home, 
 Where 'would you had remain'd until this time. 
 Free iWiiii these slanders, and this open shame ! 
 Ant. E. 1 din'd at liome ! Tliou villain, what 
 sayst thouV [home. 
 
 Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at 
 Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and 1 shut 
 out ? [shut out. 
 
 X>ro. E. Perdy, your doors were Jock'd, and you 
 Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there? 
 Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you Itiere. 
 Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and 
 scorn me ? [you. 
 
 Dro. E. Ctites.she did ; the kitchen-vestal scoin'd 
 Ant. E. And did not i in rage depaitfroin llience? 
 Dro. E. In verily you did; — my bones bear wit- 
 ness. 
 That since have felt the vigour of his rage. 
 
 Adr. I.s't good to sooth liim in these contraries? 
 Pinch. It is no shame ; the fellow fi ,ds his vein. 
 And, yielding to him, hiinioiirs well his lienzy. 
 A7it. E. 'I'lioii hast suborn d the goldsanih to 
 
 arrest me. 
 Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you. 
 By Dromio here, who came in tiaste tor it. 
 
 Dro. E. Money by me i heart and good will you 
 n.iglit. 
 But, surely, master, not a rag of money. 
 Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a pinse of 
 
 ducats? 
 Adr. He came to me, and I deliver'd it. 
 htic. And I am witness with her, that she did. 
 Dro. E. God and the rope-maker, bt-ar me wit- 
 That 1 was sent for nothing but a rope ! [ness. 
 Pinch. Mistres.s, both man and master is possess'd ; 
 I know it by their pale and deadly looks : 
 They must be bound, and laid in some dark room. 
 Ant. E. Say, whereibre didst thou lock me forth 
 to day ; 
 And why dost tiiou deny the bag of gold? 
 
 Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. 
 Dro. E. And, gentle master, 1 receiv'd no gold; 
 But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. 
 
 Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in 
 
 both. 
 Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all; 
 And art cunfedeiale witii a danined pack, 
 To make a loathsome abject scorn of nie : 
 But with these nails 1 II piu» k out these false eyes, 
 Tnat would behold me in this shameliil sport. 
 
 [Pinch and his Assistants bind Ant. E. and 
 Dro. E. 
 Adr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not come 
 near me. |wi hin Inin. 
 
 Pinch. More company ; — the fiend is strong 
 i«c. All me, poor man, how pale and wan he looksl 
 Ant. E. VVliat, wilt thou murder nie ? Tliou 
 gaoler, thou, 
 I am thy pii.soner; wilt thou suflfer them 
 To maLe a rescue ? 
 
 Off. Masters, let him go : 
 
 He is my prisoner, and you siiall not have him. 
 Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too. 
 Adr. What wilt thou do, tliou peevish oflicer? 
 Hast thou delight to see a wretched man 
 
Act Y. Scexe 1. 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 « 
 261 
 
 Do outrage and displeasure to himself? 
 
 Off He is my prisoner; if I let hiiii go, 
 The debt he owes will be reqiiir'd of rue. 
 
 Adr. 1 will discharge thee, ere I go from tliec : 
 Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, 
 4nii, knowing how the debt grovys, I will pay it. 
 (rood master doctor, see him safe convey 'd 
 Home to my house. — O most unhappy day! 
 
 Ant. E. O most unhappy strumpet! 
 
 £)ro. E. Master, I am tiere enter'd in bond for you. 
 
 Ant. E. Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost tliou 
 mad me .' 
 
 Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing ? be mad, 
 Goo 1 master; cry, the devil. — 
 
 Lnc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk ! 
 
 Adr. Go, bear him hence. — Sister, go you with 
 me. — 
 [Exeunt Pinch and Assistants, with Ant. E. 
 and Dro. E. 
 Say now, whose suit is he arrested at? 
 
 Off". One Anfelo, a goldsmith : Do you know him ? 
 
 Aur. 1 know the man : VVhat is the sum he owes ? 
 
 Off. Two hundred ducats. 
 
 Adr. Say, how grows it due ? 
 
 Off. Due for a chain, your husband had of liiui. 
 
 Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not. 
 
 Cour. When as your husband, all in ra^e, to-day 
 Came to my house, and took away my ring, 
 (The ring I saw upon his finger now,) 
 Straight after, did I meet hmi with a chain. 
 
 Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it : — 
 Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is, 
 I long to know the truth hereof at large. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, with his rapier 
 drawn, and D's.otiio of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc. God, for thy mercy ! they are loose again. 
 
 Adr. And come with naked swords; let's call 
 more help. 
 To have them bound again. 
 
 Off. Away, they'll kill us. 
 
 [Exeunt Officer, Adr. and Luc. 
 
 Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords. 
 
 Dro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran 
 from you. [fron» thence : 
 
 Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuft' 
 I lonj?, that we were safe and sound aboard. 
 
 Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will' 
 surely do us no harm ; you saw, they speak us fair, 
 give us gold : methinks, they are such a gentle 
 nation, that but for the mountain of mad tlesh that 
 claims marriage of me, I could find in ray heart to 
 stay here still, and turn witch. 
 
 Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town ; 
 Therefore away, to get our stiilf aboard. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 Enter Merchant and Angelo. 
 
 Ancf. I am sorry, sir, that I have hiuder'd you; 
 But, I protest, he had the chain of me, 
 Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 
 
 Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city "? 
 
 Ang. Of very reverent reputation, sir. 
 Of credit infinite, highly belov'd. 
 Second to none that lives here in the city; 
 His word might bear my vvealth at any time. 
 
 Mer. Sjjeak softly : yonder, as I think, he walks. 
 
 Enter .\ntipholus and Dro.'.iio of Syracuse. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck. 
 Which he forswore, most luonstrousiy, to have. 
 Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. — 
 Signior Antipholus, I wonder much. 
 That you would put me to this shame and trouble ; 
 And not without some scandal to yourself, 
 Witli circumstance, and oatiis. so to deny 
 This chain, which now you wear so openly : 
 Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment. 
 
 You have dcme wrong to this my honest friend; 
 Who, but for staying on our controversy. 
 Had lioisted .sail, and put to sea to-day : 
 This chain you had of me, can you deny it? 
 Ant. E. 1 think 1 had ; i never did deny it 
 Mer. Yes, that yon did, sir ; and I'orswore it to« 
 Ant. S. Who heiird me to deny it, or forswear it? 
 Mer. These ears of mine, thou kiiowrst, did hear 
 thee ; 
 Fy on thee, wretch! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st 
 'I'o walk, where any honest men resort. 
 
 Ant. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus; 
 I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty 
 Agninst thee presently, if thou dar'st stand. 
 Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. 
 
 {They draw.) 
 
 Enter Adri.\na, Luciana, Courtezan, and others. 
 
 Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake ; he is 
 mad ; — 
 Some get within him, take his sword away: 
 Bind Drornio too, and bear them to my house. 
 Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake, take 
 a house. 
 This is some priory : — In, or we are spoil'd. 
 
 [Exeunt Ant. S. and Dro S. to the Priory. 
 
 Enter the Abbess. 
 
 Abb. Be quiet, people : Wherefore throng you 
 hither? 
 
 Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence: 
 Let us come in, that we may bind him fust, 
 And bear him home for his recovery. 
 
 Ang. I knew, he was nut in his perfect wits. 
 
 Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him. 
 
 Abb. How long hath this possession held tlie man? 
 
 Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad. 
 And much, much different from the man he was ; 
 But, till this afternoon, his passion 
 Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. 
 
 Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at 
 sea ? 
 Buried some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye 
 Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? 
 A sin, prevailing much in youthful men. 
 Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. 
 Which of these sorrows is he subject to? 
 
 Adr. To none of these, except it be the last ; 
 Namely, som»> love, thai drew him oft from home. 
 
 Abb. You should for that have leprehendtd him. 
 
 Adr. Why, so I did. 
 
 Abb. Ay, but not rough enough. 
 
 Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me. 
 
 Abb. Haply, in private. 
 
 Adr. And in assemblies to& 
 
 Abb. Ay, but not enough. 
 
 Adr. It was the copy of our conference: 
 In bed, he slept not for my urging it; 
 At board, he fed not for my urging if; 
 Alone, it was the subject ot'my theme j 
 In company, I often glanced it: 
 Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 
 
 Abb. And thereof came it, tliat the man was mad: 
 The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
 Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
 It seems, his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: 
 And therefore comes it, that his head is light. 
 Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd witii thy upbraid- 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions, [ing»: 
 
 Thereof the raging fire oi ("ever bred ; 
 And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 
 Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls: 
 Sweet recreation barr'd. what doth ensue. 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 (Kinsman to grim and coinliirtless despair;) 
 And, at her heels, a huge inleclious troop 
 Of pale distemi eratures, and foes to life ? 
 In food, in sport, a. id lile-preserving rest 
 To be disturb'd, would mnrl or man or heast: 
 The consequence is then, thy jealous fits 
 
« 
 
 262 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act "V 
 
 Ha»e scar'd tl)y husband from tlie use of wits. 
 Luc. She never reprehended him but iniidly. 
 hen he deinean'd hiiiiselt rough, rude and Wildly. — 
 Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not? 
 
 Adr. She did betray nie to my own reproof. — 
 CJo<id peoiile, enter, and lay hold on him. 
 
 Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. 
 
 Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband 
 forth. 
 
 Abb. Neither ; he took, this place for sanctuary, 
 And it shall privilege him from your hands, 
 Till I have iiroiight him to his wits again. 
 Or lo.se my labour in assaying it. 
 
 Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse. 
 Diet his sickness, for it is my office, 
 And will have no attorney but myself; 
 And therefore let me have him home with me. 
 
 Abb. Be patient ; fur I will not let him stir. 
 Till 1 have used the a[>proved means 1 have. 
 With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers. 
 To make of him a formal man again: 
 It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, 
 A charitable duty of my order; 
 'I'iieretore depart, and leave him here with me. 
 
 Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here; 
 And ill it doth beseem your holiness. 
 To senarate the husband and the wife. 
 
 Abo. Be quiet, and depart, thou shall not have 
 him. [Exil Abbess. 
 
 Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity. 
 
 Adr. Come, go; I will fall prostrate at his feet. 
 And never rise until my tears and prayers 
 Have won iiis grace to come in person hither. 
 And take perlorce my husband from the abbess. 
 
 Mer. By this, 1 think, the dial points at five : 
 Anon, I aju sure, the duke himself in person 
 Comes this way to ttte melancholy vale ; 
 The place of death and sorry execution. 
 Behind the ditches of the abbey liere. 
 
 Any. Upon what Ciiuse ? 
 
 Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant, 
 Wlio put unluckily into this bay. 
 Against the laws and statutes of this town. 
 Beheaded publicly lor his offence. 
 
 Ally, See, where they come ; we will behold his 
 death, 
 
 Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the abbey. 
 
 Enter DuKE, attended; HLo^o'S, bareheaded; 
 wit/i the Headsman and other Officers. 
 
 Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly. 
 If any Irieiid will pay tlie sum for him. 
 He sliali not die, su much we tender him. 
 
 Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the 
 abbess ! 
 
 Duhe. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady; 
 It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong. 
 
 Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my 
 husband, — 
 Whom I made lord of me and all I had, 
 At your important letters, — this ill day 
 A most outrageous fit of niadnt-ss took him ; 
 That desperately he hurried through tiie street, 
 
 tWitii hirn his b(jnduian all as mad as he,) 
 )oing displeasure to tlie citizens. 
 By rushing in their houses, bearing thence 
 Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. 
 Once did I get him bouiid, and sent him home. 
 Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went. 
 That here and there his fury had committed. 
 Anon, 1 wot not by what strong escape. 
 He broke from those that had the guard of him ; 
 And, With his mad attendant and himself, 
 t.ach one with ireful pussioii, with drawn swords. 
 Wet us again, and, m idly bent on us. 
 Chased us away; till, raising of more aid, 
 We came aaain to bind them ; then tiiey fled 
 in'n) ttii»»bbev wintuer we pursn.-d them; 
 Aui ht-re the itlibcsK shuts the ^aten on us. 
 And wiil not dulfer us to fetch hiiii out. 
 
 Nor send him forth, that we may b«ar him heuce. 
 'Iherefore, most gracious duke, with thy command. 
 Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help 
 Duke. Long since, thy husband serv'd me in mj 
 wars ; 
 And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, 
 VV hen thou didst make him master of thy bed. 
 To do him all the gracf and good I could. — 
 Go some of you, knock at the abbey-gate. 
 And bid the lady abbess come to me; 
 J will determine this before 1 stir. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift aiid save your- 
 self! 
 i\1y master and his man are both broke loose. 
 Beaten the m lids a-row, and bound the doctor, 
 Whose beard theyhave singed olf with brands of fire; 
 And ever as it blaz'd, they threw on him 
 Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair: 
 My master preaches patience to him, while 
 His man with scissors nicks him like a tiiol . 
 And, sure, unless you send some present helj). 
 Between them they will kill the conjurer. 
 
 Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here ; 
 And that is false thou dost report to us. 
 
 Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell yon true: 
 I ha\ e not breath'd almost, since I did see it. 
 He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you. 
 To scorch your face, and to di.sfigure yo" : 
 
 {Cry loithm.) 
 Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress ; fly, be gone. 
 
 Duke. Come, stand by me, fear nothing : Guard 
 with halberds. 
 
 Adr. Ah me, it is my husband ! Witness yon. 
 That he is borne about invisible : 
 Even now we hous"d him in the abbey here; 
 And now he's there, past th<jught of hitman rea.son. 
 
 Enter Antipholus and Dv.om\o of Ephestis. 
 
 Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant 
 me justice ! 
 Even for the service that long since I did thee. 
 When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took 
 Deep scars to save thy life : even for the blood 
 That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
 
 JE<je. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, 
 I see my son Antipholus. and Dromio. 
 
 Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that wo- 
 man there. 
 She, whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife ; 
 That hath abused and dish.inonr'd me. 
 Even in the strength and height of injury! 
 Beyond imagination is tl." wrong. 
 That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 
 
 Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find rae just. 
 
 Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors 
 upon me, 
 While she, with harlots, feasted in my house. 
 
 Duke. A grievous fault : Say, woman, didst 
 thou so. [sister, 
 
 Adr. No, my good lord : — myself, he, and my 
 To-day did dine together: so befal my soul. 
 As this is false, he burdens me withal ! 
 
 Luc. Ne'er may I look on day. nor sleep on night. 
 But she tells to your highness simple tmth ! 
 
 Anj. O perjiii'^ woman ! they are both forsworn 
 In this the madman justly chargeth them. 
 
 Ant. E iMy liege, I am advised what I say ; 
 Neither distiirb'd with the effect of wine. 
 Nor heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire. 
 Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad. 
 This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner: 
 That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her. 
 Could witness it, for he was with me then ; 
 Who parted witii me to go fetch a chain, 
 Proraisius to bring it to the Porcupine, 
 Where Brilthszar and I did dine together. 
 Our dinner done, and he not coining ihilher, 
 1 went to aeek him : in the street I met him; 
 
Scene 1, 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 And in his company, that gentleman. 
 There did this pfcrjiir'd goldsmith swear me down, 
 That 1 tliis day of him receiv'd the chain, 
 Which, (Jod he knows, I saw not : for the which, 
 He did arrest me with an officer. 
 I did ohey, and sent my peasant home 
 For certain ducats: he with none return'd. 
 Then fairly I bespoke the officer, 
 To go in person with me to my house. 
 By the way we met 
 My wife, her sister, and a rabble more 
 -01 vile confederates; alon"^ with them 
 They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd vil- 
 A nieer an;<tomy, a mountebank, [Iain, 
 
 A thread-bare juggler, and a Ibrtnne-teller ; 
 A needy, hollow ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A living dead man: this pernicious slave. 
 Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
 And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my ( ulse. 
 And with no face, as 'twere, outiacing me. 
 Cries out, [ was possess'd : then altogether 
 'I'liey fell upon me, bound me, bore me tuence ; 
 And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
 There left nie and my man, both bound together; 
 'I'ill gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, 
 I gam'd my Ireedom, and immediately 
 Uan hither to your grace ; whom 1 beseech 
 'l"o give me ample satisfaction 
 For these deep shames and great indignities. 
 
 Ang, My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with 
 h>ui. 
 That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out 
 
 Diike. llwi had lie such a chain of thee, or no? 
 
 Ang. He had, my lord : and when he ran in here, 
 The.se people saw the chain about his neck. 
 
 Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine 
 Heard you confess you had the chain of him. 
 After you first forswore it on the mart. 
 And thereupon 1 drew my sword on you ; 
 And then you tied into this abbey here. 
 From whence, 1 think, you are come by miracle. 
 
 Ant. E. 1 never came within these abbey wails, 
 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me : 
 I never saw the chain, so help me heaven I 
 And this is false, you burden me withal. 
 
 Duke. What an intricate impea .h is this ! 
 ( think, you alt have drank of Circe's cup. 
 If here you hous'd him, here he would have been ; 
 If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly; — 
 You say, he dmed at home; the goldsmith here 
 Denies lh;it saying : — Sinaii, what say you ? 
 
 Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the 
 Porcupine. 
 
 Cottr. He did, and from my finger snatch'd that 
 
 Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I had of 
 her. 
 
 Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ? 
 
 Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. 
 
 Duke. Why, this is strange : — Go call the abbess 
 hither; 
 1 think, you are all mated, or stark mad. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 JEge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a 
 word : 
 Haply, I see a friend will save my life. 
 And pay the sum that may deliver me. 
 
 Duke. Speak freely, Syrachsan, what thou wilt, 
 
 jEje. Is not your name, sir, call'd .'^utipholus ? 
 And IS not that your bundinan, Dromio ? [sir, 
 
 Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman. 
 But he, 1 thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords ; 
 Now am I Drouiio, and his man, unbound. 
 
 JEye, I am sure, you both of you remember me. 
 
 Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you ; 
 For lately we svere bound, as you are now. 
 Von are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir ? 
 
 .'Ege. Why look you strange on u;e ? you know 
 me well. 
 
 Ant. E. I never saw you in ray life till naw. 
 
 JEge. Uh ! grief hath chang'd me since you san 
 me last ; 
 And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand, 
 Have written strange defeatures in my face : 
 But tell me yet, dost thou Lot know my voice ? 
 
 Ant. E. Neither. 
 
 Aige. Dromio, nor thou ? 
 
 Dro. E, No, trust me, sir, nor I. 
 
 jEge. I am sure, thou dost. 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, I do not; and 
 whatsoever a man denies, you »re now bound to 
 believe him. 
 
 y£</e. Not know my voice! O, time's extremity 
 Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, 
 In seven sliort years, that here my only son 
 Knows not my feeble key of untiin'd cares? 
 Though now this grained face ot mine be hid 
 In sap consuming winter's drizzled snow. 
 And all the conduits of my blood froze up ; 
 Yet hath my night of life some memory. 
 My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left. 
 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 
 All these old witnesses ( I cannot err, ) 
 Tell nie. thou art my son Antipholus. 
 
 Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. 
 
 jEge. But seven years since, in Syrarusa, boy 
 Thou know'st, we parted ; but, perhaps, my son, 
 Tliou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. 
 
 Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in the 
 city. 
 Can witness with me that it is not so ; 
 1 ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. 
 
 Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years 
 Ha\e I been patron to Antipholus, 
 During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa: 
 I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. 
 
 Re-enter the Abbess, tvit/i \viriruohvs,Syracutan; 
 and Dromio, Syracusan. 
 
 Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much 
 wrong'd. ( All gather to see him.) 
 
 Adr. 1 see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive 
 me. 
 
 Duke. One of these men is genius to the other ; 
 And so of these : Which is the natural man. 
 And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? 
 
 Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. 
 
 Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me stay. 
 
 Ant. S. iFgeon, art thou not? or else his ghost? 
 
 Dro. 6'. O, my old master ! who hath bound him 
 here r 
 
 Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, 
 And gain a husband by his liberty : — 
 Speak, old jEgeon, if thou be'st the man, 
 That liad'st a wife once called iEiuilia, 
 That bore tliee at a burden two fair sons; 
 
 0, if thou be'st the same jl'^t;eon, speak. 
 And speak unto the same jli^milia ! 
 
 jEge. If I dream not, thou art /Emilia; 
 If th(ui art she, tell me, where is that son. 
 That floated with thee on the fatal raft? 
 
 Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, 
 And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ; 
 But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth 
 By force took Dromio and my .son from them. 
 And me they left with those of Epidamnum: 
 What then became of them, I cannot tell; 
 
 1, to this iortune that you see me in. 
 
 Duke. Why, here begins this morning story right ; 
 These two Antipholus's, these two so like. 
 And these two Dromio's, one in sembiance, — 
 Besides her urging of her wreck at sea. — 
 These are the parents to these childr 
 Wliich accidentally are met together 
 Antipholus. thou cam'st from Corinth st 
 
 Ant. S. No, sir, not I ; I came frori Syracuse. 
 
 Duke. Stay, stand ajjart; I know not which is 
 which. [lord. 
 
 Ant. E. 1 came from Corinth, my 
 
 Dro. E And 1 with him. 
 
264 
 
 COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Ant. E. Brouc[ht to this town by that most fa- 
 inouB warrior, 
 Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
 
 Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day .'' 
 
 Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. 
 
 Adr. And are not you my husband ? 
 
 Ant. E. No, I say nay to th;it. 
 
 Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so; 
 And this lair gentlewoman, her sister here, 
 Did call me brother: — What 1 tuld you then, 
 I hope, [ shall have leisure to make good ; 
 If this be not a dream, I see, and hear. 
 
 Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. 
 
 Ant. S. 1 think it be, sir; 1 deny it not. 
 
 Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. 
 
 Any. 1 think 1 did, sir; I deny it not. 
 
 Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail. 
 By Dromio ; but I think, he brought it not. 
 
 Dro. E. No, none by me. 
 
 Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you. 
 And Dioinio mj; man did bring them me : 
 I see, we still did meet each other's man. 
 And I was ta'en for him, and lie for me, 
 And thereupon these Errors are arose. 
 
 Ant E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. 
 
 Duke. It shall not need, thy father hath his life. 
 
 Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. 
 
 Ant. E. There, take it : and much thanks for my 
 good cheer. 
 
 Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains 
 To go with us into the abbey here, 
 And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes; — 
 And all that are assembi d in this place, 
 That by this sympathized one day's error 
 Have siill'erd wrong, go, keep us company, 
 Aud we kuttil make fall satistactiou. — 
 
 Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail 
 
 Ol you, my sons ; nor, till this present hour. 
 
 My heavy burdens are delivered : — 
 
 The duke, my husband, and my children both. 
 
 And you ihe calendars of their nativity. 
 
 Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me ; 
 
 After so long gri^f, such nativity ! 
 
 Duke. VV'itti all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast 
 [Exeunt Duhe, Abbess, jEgeon, Courtezan, Mer- 
 chant, Aiiyelo, and Attendantt. 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stutf Irom 
 shipboard ! _ [enibark'd 'i' 
 
 Ant. E. Dioinio, what stuff of mine hast thou 
 Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the 
 Centaur. (Dromio : 
 
 A}it. S. He speaks to me : I am your master. 
 Come, go with us ; we'll look to that anon : 
 Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him. 
 
 [Exeunt Antipholus S. and E., Adr., and Luc. 
 Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's 
 house. 
 That kitchen d me for you to day at dinner ; 
 She now shall be my sister, not my wife. 
 
 Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, aud not 
 my brother : 
 I see by you, i am a sweet-faced youth. 
 Will you walk ill to see their gossi,,ing? 
 Dro. S. Not I, sir, you are my elder. 
 Dro. E. That's a question : How shall we try it . 
 Dro. S. We will draw cuts tor the senior: till 
 then, lead thou first. 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, then thus : 
 We came into the world, like brother and brother j 
 And now let's go hand iu hand, not one before 
 another. [Exeunt. 
 
3 
 
 o 
 
 (-1 
 
 
 o 
 
 L5 
 
 td 
 
 f 
 
MACBETH. 
 
 This play is deservedly relebrated for the propri ty of its fic(ion, and solemnity, grandeur, and variety of its action • 
 biit it lias oo luci; discriminations of clmracter ; llie events are too great to adm t ihe influence of ^articular disnr- 
 sitions, H!id the course of Ihe action necessarily determines the conduct of the agents. 
 
 The danger of ambition is we.l described: and I know not whether it may not be sa;d, in defence of some parte 
 which now seem improbable, that in Shakspeare's time it was necessary to warn credulity against vain and illusive 
 predictions. 
 
 The passions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detested; and though the couriige of Mao- 
 belh preserves some esteem, yet every reader rejoices at liis fall. JohnsOH. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DUNCAN. King <// Scotland. 
 
 his Sunt. 
 
 Generals of the King's Army. 
 
 > Noblemen of Scotland. 
 
 MALCt)LM, 
 DON\LB\lV 
 MACBtTH, 
 BANyL'O 
 MACDUFF, 
 LENOX, 
 ROSSE, 
 MENTi-.TH, 
 ANGUS, I 
 
 CATHNESS, / 
 FLEANCii, '.yort to Bfinquo. 
 
 SIWAKD, E'irl of Nurihumberland, General of 
 English Forces. 
 
 Scene,— /« the end of the Fourth Act, lies in 
 
 and, chiefly. 
 
 Young SIWARD. his Son. 
 
 SEVTON, art Officer attending on Macbeth 
 
 Son to Macduff. 
 
 An English Doctor. A Scotch Doctor. 
 
 A Suldier. A Porter. An old Man. 
 
 LADY MACBETH 
 LADY MACDUFF. 
 
 Genl/fiini/nan attending on Lady Macbeth 
 HECATE, and three Witches. 
 
 Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderert, 
 (lig Altentlants, and Messengers. 
 
 The Ghost of Banqiio, and several other Apparitiont. 
 England; through the rest of the Play, in Scotland; 
 at Macbeth' s Castle, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — An open Place. Thunder and 
 Lightning. 
 
 Enter three fFitches. 
 
 1 Witch. When shall we three meet again 
 In thunder, lightning, or in rain ? 
 
 2 Witch. VViien the hnrlybnrly's done. 
 When the biittle's hist and won 
 
 3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun. 
 
 1 Witch. Wliere the place ? 
 
 2 Witch. Upon the heath ; 
 
 3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 
 1 Witch. I come, G ymalkin! 
 
 All. Paildock calls : — Anon. — 
 Fair is fo il, and foul is fair: 
 Hover throngh the fog and filthy air 
 
 ( Witches vanish.) 
 Scene II.— .4 Camp near Fores. Alarum within. 
 
 Enter King Dunc.\n, Malcolm, Donalbain, Le- 
 nox, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Soldier. 
 
 Dun. What bloody man is that ? He can report, 
 As .seeineth by his plight, of the revolt 
 The newest state. 
 
 Mai. This is the sergeant. 
 
 Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought 
 'Gainst my captivity : — Hail, brave friend I 
 Say to the king the knowledge of the broil, 
 As tlioti didst leave it. 
 
 Sold. Doubtfully it stood ; 
 
 . As two spent swimmers, that do ding together. 
 And choke their art. 'Ihe merciless Macdonwald 
 (Worthy to be a rebel ; for, to that, 
 'I'he multiplying villanies of nature 
 Do swarm upon him,) from tlir western i.sles 
 Of Kernes and Gallowglassi-s is supplied ; 
 And fiirtiine, on his damned quarrel smiling, 
 Show'd like a rebel's whore : B;it all's too weak ; 
 For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that name,) 
 Disdaining tbrtiine, with his brandish d steel. 
 Which snidk'd w (h bloody execution, 
 Like valour's minion, 
 
 Carv'd out his passage, till he fac'd the slave : 
 And neer .shook hands, nor bade farew II to him, 
 Till he iinseam'd him from the nave to th' chaps. 
 And fix'd his head upon our battlements. 
 
 Dun. O, valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman ! ' 
 Sold. As whence tiie sun 'gins his reflection 
 
 Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ; 
 So from that spring, whence comfort seetn'd to come 
 Discomfort swells. Miirk, king of Scotland, mark : 
 No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd, 
 Compelld the.Me skipping Kernes to trust their heelg • 
 But the Norweyau lord, surveying vantage, ' 
 
 With furbisli'd arms, and new supplies of men. 
 Began a fresh assault. 
 
 ^"«. Dismay'd not this 
 
 Our captains, Macbeth and Bauquo ? 
 
 Sold. Yes • 
 
 As sparrows, eagles ; or the hare, the lion. 
 II I say sooth, I must report they were 
 As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks ; 
 So they 
 
 Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: 
 Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds. 
 Or memorize another Golgotha, 
 I cannot tell: — 
 
 But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. 
 Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy 
 wounds : 
 They smack of honour both : — Go, get him surgeons. 
 [Exit Soldier, attended. 
 
 Enter RossE. 
 The worthy thane of Rosse. 
 
 Who cumes here ? 
 
 Mai. ^ ...„. 
 
 Len. What haste looks through his eyes! So 
 should he look. 
 That seems to speak things strange. 
 
 Rosse. God save the king I 
 
 Dun. Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane ? 
 
 Rosse. From Fife, great ting. 
 
 Where the Norweyan banners fjout the sky, 
 And fan our people cold. 
 Norway himself, with terrible numbers, 
 Assisted by that most disloyal traitor 
 The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict: 
 Till that Belloiia's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof^ 
 Confronted him with self-comparisons, 
 Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm. 
 Curbing his lavish spirit: And, to conclude. 
 The victory fell on us; 
 
 ^""- Great happiness . 
 
 Rosse. That now 
 Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; 
 Nor would we deign him burial of his men. 
 Till he disbursed, c' Saint Colmes' inch, 
 Ten thousand dollar.' to our genera' vise. 
 
266 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act T. 
 
 Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive 
 Our bosom interest : — Go, pronounce his death. 
 And wiih Ills former title greet Macbetli. 
 
 Rosse. I'll see it done. 
 
 Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene I H. — A Heath. 
 
 Thunder. Enter three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 
 
 2 fVitch. Killing swine. 
 
 3 Witch. Sister, where thou ? 
 
 1 TFitch. A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, 
 And inouncird, and mouoch'd, and niounch'd : — 
 
 Give me, quoth 1 : 
 Aroint thee, tvitch ! the rump-fed ronyon cries. 
 Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o'ihc Tiger: 
 But in a sieve I'll tliither sail. 
 And, like a rat without a tail, 
 I'll do, I'll do, and Ml do. 
 
 2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind. 
 1 Witch. Thou art kind, 
 
 3 Witch. And 1 another. 
 
 1 Witch. I myself have all the other: 
 And the very ports they blow. 
 
 All the quarters that they know 
 I'the shipman's card. 
 I will drain him dry as hay: 
 Sleep simil, neither night nor day, 
 Hang upon his pent-hoiise lid ; 
 He shall live a man forbid : 
 Weary sev'n nights, nine times nine, 
 Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine; 
 Thodgh his bark cannot be lost. 
 Yet it shall be tenipest-toss'd. 
 Look what I have. 
 
 2 TVitch. Sliow me, show me. 
 
 1 fPitch. Here 1 have a pilot's thumb, 
 Wrerk'd, as homeward he did come. {Drum ivithin.) 
 
 3 Witch. A drum, a drum ; 
 Macbetli doth come. 
 
 All. The weiid sisters, hand in hand. 
 Posters of the sea and land. 
 Thus do go about, about ; 
 Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine. 
 And thrice again, to make up nine : 
 Peace ! — The charm's wound up. 
 
 Enter Macbeth and Banquo. 
 
 Macb. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. 
 
 Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores'!* — What are 
 these. 
 So wither d, and so wild in their attire ; 
 That look not like the inhabitants o'the earth. 
 And yet are on't ? Live you "? or are you aught 
 That man may question "? You seem to understand 
 
 me, 
 By each at once her choppy finger laying 
 Upon her skinny lius : — You should be women. 
 And ytt your bearas forbid me to interpret 
 That you are so. 
 
 Mncb. Speak, if you can ; — What are you ? 
 
 1 fVitch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane 
 
 of GId 
 
 [of Cawdor ! 
 
 2 Tf'itck. All hail, Macbeth! hail io thee, thane 
 
 3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king 
 
 hereafter. . [fear 
 
 Ban. Good sir, why do you start; and seem to 
 Things that do sound so fair"? — I'the name of truth, 
 Are ye fantastical, or that indeed. 
 Which outwardly ye show'? My noble partner ■ 
 Ye greet with present grace, and great prediction 
 Of noble having, and of royal hope. 
 That he seems rapt withal ; to me you speak not: 
 If you can look into the seeds of lime. 
 And say, which grain will grow, and which will not ; 
 Sjieak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, 
 Your fnvours, nor your hate. 
 
 1 PrUch. Hail ! 
 
 2 Witch. Hail ! 
 
 3 Witch. Hail ! 
 
 1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. 
 
 2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much liappicr. 
 
 3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thoii be 
 
 none : 
 So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! 
 
 I Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail ! 
 
 Macb. Stay, yuii imperfect speakers, tell me more ! 
 By Sinel's death, 1 know, I am thane of Glainis; 
 But how of Cawdor? the tliane of Cawdor lives, 
 A prosperous gentleman ; and, to be king. 
 Stands not within the prospect of belief. 
 No more than to "be Cawdor. Say, from whence 
 You owe this strange intelligence ;' or why 
 Upon this blasted heath you stop our way 
 With such prophetic greeting? — Speak, 1 charge 
 you. (^fVitches vanish.) 
 
 Ban. 'J'lie earth hath bubbles, as the vvnter has, 
 And these are of them :— Whither are they vanish'd? 
 
 Macb. Into the air; and what seem'd corporal, 
 melted 
 As breath into the wind. — 'Would they had staid! 
 
 Ban.Were such things here, as we do speak about 'I 
 Or have we eaten of the insane root, 
 That takes the reason prisoner ? 
 
 Macb. Your children shall be kings. 
 
 Ban. You shall be king, 
 
 Macb. And thane of Cawdor too ; went it not so ? 
 
 Bafi. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's 
 here'? 
 
 Enter RossE and Angus. 
 
 Rosse. The king hath happily receiv'd, Macbeth, 
 The news of thy success: and when he reads 
 Thy personal venture in the rebels' fijiht, 
 His wonders and his praises do contend, 
 Which should be thine, or his: Siltnc'd with that. 
 In viewing o'er the rest o'the sell-same day, 
 He finds thee in the stout Norvveyan ranks. 
 Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make. 
 Strange images of death. As thick as tale. 
 Came post with post; and every one did bear 
 Tiiy praises in his kingdom's great defence. 
 And pour'd them down before him. 
 
 Ant/. We are sent. 
 
 To give thee, from our royal master, thanks j 
 To herald tliee into his sight, not pay thee. 
 
 Rosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour. 
 He bade me, from him, call thee thane of l awdor 
 In which addition, hail, most worthy thane ! 
 For it is thine. 
 
 Ban. What, can the devil speak true? 
 
 Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives: Why <lo you 
 In borrow'd robes ? [dress me 
 
 Ang. Who was the thane, lives yet; 
 
 But under heavy judgment bears that life, 
 Which he de.serves to lose. Whether he was 
 Conibin'd with Norway; or did line the rebel 
 With hidden help and' vantage; or that with both 
 He labour'd in his cotimry s wreck, i know not; 
 But treasons capital, coufess'd, and prov d. 
 Have overthrown him. 
 
 Macb. Glamis. and thane of Cawdor : 
 
 The greatest is behind. — Thanks for your pains. — 
 Do you not hope your children shall be kings. 
 When those, that gave the thane of Cawdor to me, 
 Promis'd no less to them ? 
 
 Ban. That, trusted home, 
 
 Might yet enkindle you nnto the crown. 
 Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : 
 And oftentimes, to win us to our harm. 
 The instruments of darkness tell us truths ; 
 Win us with honest trifles, to betray u.s 
 In deepest consequence. — 
 Cousins, a word, I pray you. 
 
 Macb. Two truths are told. 
 
 As happy prologues to tlie swelling act 
 Of the imperial theme.— I thank you, gentlemen — 
 This supernatural soliciting 
 Cannot be ill ; cannot be good :— If ill. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 267 
 
 Why hath it given me earnest of success. 
 Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor: 
 If ijoDil, why do I yield to that suggestion. 
 Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair. 
 And make my seated lieart i^nock at my ribs, 
 Against the use of nature ? Present fears 
 Are less than horril)le inujginings : 
 My thougiit, whose murder yet is but fantastical, 
 Shakes so my single state of man, that function 
 Is sinother'd in surmise ; and nothing is, 
 liut what is not. 
 
 Ba7i. Look, how our partner's rapt. 
 
 Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance 
 VVithont my stir. [may crown me. 
 
 Ban. New honours come upon him 
 
 Like our strange garments ; cleave not to tlieir mould, 
 But with the aid of use. 
 
 Macb. Ccnie what come may ; 
 
 Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. 
 
 Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. 
 
 Macb. Give me your favour: — my du!l brain was 
 wrought 
 With ti>ii)gs tiirgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains 
 Are regisler'd where every day I turn 
 The leaf to read them. — Let us toward the king. — 
 Think upon what hath chanc'd ; and, at more time, 
 'I'he interim having weigh'd it, let us speak 
 Our free hearts each to other. 
 
 Ban. Very gladly. 
 
 Macb. Till then, enough. — Come, friends. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ScENK IV. — For en. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Dcncan, Malcolm, Donax,bain, 
 
 Lenox, and Attendants. 
 
 Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not 
 Those in commission yet returu'd '! 
 
 Mill. My liege. 
 
 They are not yet come back. But I have spoke 
 Witii one that saw him die : who did report, 
 Tuat very frankly he confess'd his treasons; 
 (mplor'd your highness' pardon ; and set torth 
 A deej) repentance : nothing in his life 
 brC'tme him like the leaving it: he died 
 As one that had been studied in his death. 
 To tliiow away the dearest tiling he ow'd,. 
 As 'twere a carsless trifle. 
 
 Dun. There's no art. 
 
 To lind the mind's construction in the face : 
 He was a gentleman, on whom I built 
 An absolute trust. — O worthiest cousin ! 
 
 Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus. 
 
 The sill of my ingratitude even now 
 
 WaH heavy mi nie : Thou art so far before, 
 
 'J'liat swiftest wing of lecouipense is slow 
 
 To overtake thee. 'Would tiiou hadst less deserv'd; 
 
 That the proportion both of tiianks and payment 
 
 Might have been mine ! only I have lelt to say. 
 
 More is thy due than more than all can pay. 
 
 Macb. 'I'he service and the loyalty i owe. 
 In doing it, pays itself. Vour highue.ss' part 
 Is to receive our duties: and our duties 
 A rn to your throne and state, children, and servants ; 
 Which do but what they should, by doing every thing 
 Safe toward your love and honour. 
 
 Dun. Welcome hither : 
 
 I have begun to plant thee, and will labour 
 To make thee full of growing. — Noble Banquo, 
 That liast no less deserv'd, nor must be known 
 No less to have done so, let me intold thee, 
 A III I hold thee to my heart. 
 
 Ban. There if I grow. 
 
 The liarvest is your own. 
 
 Dun. My plenteous joys, 
 
 Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves 
 In drops of sorrow. — Sons, kinsmen, tlianes. 
 And yuu whose places are tlie nearest, know, 
 \V e will establish our estate upon 
 Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name hereafter. 
 The prince of Cumberland: which honour must 
 
 Not, UDaccompanied, invest him only. 
 But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine 
 On all deservers. — From hence to Inverness, 
 And bind us further to you. 
 
 Macb. The rest is labour, which is not us'd for you : 
 I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful 
 The hearing of my wife with your approach; 
 So, humbly take my leave. 
 
 Dun. My worthy Cawdor! 
 
 Macb. The prince of Cumberland : — That is a 
 step. 
 On which I must fall down, or else oerleap, 
 
 . {Aside. 
 
 For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! 
 Let not light see my black and deep desires : 
 The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, 
 Whicti the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit. 
 
 Dun. True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant; 
 And in his commendations 1 am fed : 
 It is a banquet to me. Let us after liim, 
 W hose care is gone before to bid us welcome : 
 It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Inverness. A Room in Macbeih's 
 Castle. Enter Lady Macbeth, readiny a letter. 
 Lady M. They met me in the day of success ; 
 and I have learned by the perfectesl report, they 
 have more in them than mortal knowled'je. When 
 I burned in desire to question them further, they 
 made themselves—air, into ivhich they vanished. 
 TFhiles I stood rapt iii the wonder of it, came 
 missives from the kinr/, who all-hailed me. Thane 
 of Cawdor; by which title, before, these weird 
 sisters saluted me. and referred me to the coming 
 on of time, with. Hail, king that shalt be! This 
 have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest 
 partner of greatness ; that thou mightest not lose 
 the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of tvhat 
 greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, 
 and farewell, 
 
 Glamis thou art, and Cawdor ; and shalt be 
 
 What thou art promis'd : — Yet do I fear thy nature; 
 
 It is too full o'the milk of human kindness, 
 
 To catch the nearest way : thou would'st be great; 
 
 Art not without ambition ; but without 
 
 The illness should attend it. What thoa woiildst 
 
 highly. 
 That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false. 
 And yet wouldst wrongly win; thoudst have, great 
 
 Glamis, 
 That which cx'ws.Thus thou must do.ifthou have It; 
 And thai tvhich rather thou dost fear to do. 
 Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither. 
 That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; 
 And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
 All that impedes thee from the golden round. 
 Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 
 To have thee crown'd withal. What is your 
 
 tidings V 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 
 Atten. The king comes here to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it 
 
 Is not thy master with him ? who, wer't so 
 Would have iuform'd for preparation. 
 
 Atten. So please you, it is true ; our thane i 
 coming: 
 One of my fellows had the speed of him ; 
 Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more 
 Than would make u[i his message. 
 
 Lady M. Give him tending. 
 
 He brings great news. The raven himsell is hoarse, 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
 Under my battlements. Come, come, you .spirits 
 That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here ; 
 And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
 Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood. 
 Stop up the access and passage to reiiiorse i 
 
268 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 hat no compunctioii.s visitings of n'^tiire 
 Shake my fell purpose, iior keep peace between 
 The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts. 
 And take my milk for gall, you miird'ring ministers, 
 Wherever in your sightless substances 
 You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, 
 And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! 
 That Miy keen knite see not the wound it makes ; 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 
 To cry, Hold, Jioldl Great Glamis ! worthy 
 
 Cawdor ! 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! 
 Thy letters have transported me beyond 
 This ignorant present, and 1 feel now 
 The future in the instant 
 
 Macb. My dearest love, 
 
 Duncan comes here to-night. 
 
 Lady M. And when goes hence ? 
 
 Mach. 'I'o-morrow, — as he purposes. 
 
 Lady M. O, never 
 
 Shall sun that morrow see ! 
 Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men 
 May read strange matters : — To beguile the time, 
 Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye. 
 Your hand, your tongue : look like the iiuioceqt 
 
 flower. 
 But be the .serpent under it. He that's coming 
 Must be provided for: and you shall put 
 This night's great business into my despatch ; 
 Which shall to all our nights and diiys to come 
 Give solely sovereign sway and niusterdom. 
 
 Macb. VVe will speak further. 
 
 Lady M. Only look up clear ; 
 
 To alter favour ever is to fear: 
 Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — The same. Before the Castle. 
 
 Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending. 
 Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain. Hanquo, 
 
 Lenox, Macduff, Kosse, Angus, ««rf^l//e«c/- 
 
 ants. 
 
 Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air 
 Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
 Unto our gentle senses. 
 
 Ban. This guest of summer. 
 
 The teuiple-haunting martlet, does a| prove. 
 By his lovd mnnsionry, that the heaven's breath 
 Smells wooingty here : no jutly, frieze, buttress,^ 
 Nor coigue of vantage, but this bird hath made 
 His pendent bed, and procreant cradle : where they 
 Most breed and haunt, 1 have observ d, the air 
 Is delicate. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Dun. See, see ! our honour'd hostess ! 
 
 The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble. 
 Which still we thank as love. Herein 1 teach you. 
 How you shall bid God jield us for your pains, 
 And thank us lor your trouble. 
 
 Lady M. All our service 
 
 In eveiy point twice done, and then done double, 
 Were poor and single business, to I'ontend 
 Against those liunours deep and broad, wherewith 
 Vour iii,i|rsly l<>:ids our house : fo' those of old. 
 And the late dignities heap'd up to them. 
 We rest your herunts. 
 
 Dun. Where's the thane of Cawdor? 
 
 We cjtirs'd him at the heels, and had a purpose 
 To be his pui veyor : but he rides well ; 
 And hisgre;it ioxe, sharp as his spur, liath holp him 
 To his houie before us : fair and noble liosless, 
 We a e ymir guest to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Your servants ever 
 
 Have tiien s, themselves, and whal is theirs, in compt, 
 To make their audit at your liignness' pleasure, 
 Still to return your own. 
 
 Dun. Give me your hand : 
 
 Couiliict ine to mine bust; we love hiin highly. 
 
 And shall continue our graces towards hirn. 
 
 By your leave, hostess. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — The same. A Room in the Castle. 
 Hautboys and torches. Enter and pass over the 
 stage, a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes 
 and service. Then enter Macbeth. 
 Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 
 'twere well 
 It were done quickly : If the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch. 
 With this surcease, success ; that but this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end all here. 
 But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
 We'd jump the life to come. — But, in these cases, 
 We still have judgment here; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice 
 Comiuends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips. He's here in double trust: 
 First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
 Strong both against the deed; then, as his host. 
 Who should against his murderer shut the door. 
 Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 So clear in his great office, that his vii tues 
 Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu'd, against 
 The deep damnation of his taking off: 
 And pity, like a naked new born babe. 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hois'd 
 Upon the sightless couriers of the air. 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye. 
 That tears shall drown the wind. — I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself. 
 And falls on the oilier. — How now, wliat news ? 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. He has almost supp'd : Why have yoii 
 left the chamber? 
 
 Macb. Hath he ask'd.for me ? 
 
 Lady M. Know you not, he has ? 
 
 Macb.We will proceed no further in this business : 
 He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought 
 Golden opinions iiom all sorts of ptople, 
 Which would be worn now in their newest gloss. 
 Not cast aside so soon. 
 
 Lady M. VV^as tiie hope drunk, 
 
 VVheiein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since? 
 And wakes it now, to look .so green and piile 
 At what it did so freely ? From tliis time. 
 Such I account thy love. Ait thou afeard 
 To be tlie same in thine own act and valour. 
 As thou art in desire V Wouldst thou have that 
 Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life. 
 And live a coward in thine own esteem ; 
 Letting / dare not wait upon / tvould, 
 Like the poor cat i'tlie adage .'' 
 
 Macb. Pr'ythee, peace : 
 
 I dare do all that may become a man ; 
 Who dares do more, is none. 
 
 Lady M. What beast was it then. 
 
 That made you break this enterprise to me i 
 VVlien you durst do it, then you were a man ; 
 And, to be more than what you were, you wtuld 
 Be' so iiiucli more the man. Nor time, nor |.lace. 
 Did then adhere, and yet you would make botii : 
 They have made themselves, and that their hiiies* 
 
 now 
 Does unmake you. I have given suck ; and know 
 How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me : 
 1 would, while it was smiling in my lace, 
 Hhvc pliick'd my nipple fioui his boneless gums, 
 And dash'd the braius out, had I so sworn, as you 
 Have done to this. 
 
 Macb. If we should fail, 
 
 Lady M. . . We fail! 
 
 But screw your courage to the sticking place, 
 And we'll not fail. V\ hen Duncan is asletj), 
 (Wiiereto the rather shall his day's hard journey 
 
Act it. Scene 2. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 269 
 
 Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains 
 VVill J uitli wine and WHSsel so convince, 
 That iiienioi y, the warder of the brain. 
 Shall he a i'ume, and the receipt ot reason 
 A limbeck only : VV hen in swinish sleep 
 'I'heir drenched n^tin-es lie, as in a death, 
 VVhat cannot you and I perform upon 
 The unguarded Duncan f what not put upon 
 His s,'ongy olticers; who shall bear the guilt 
 Of our great quell :" 
 
 Maco. Bring forth men-children only ! 
 
 For my undaunted metal should compose 
 Nothing but males. VV ill it not be receiv'd, 
 W^hen we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two 
 Of his own chamber, and us"d their very daggers, 
 That they have done't :" 
 
 Letdy M. Who dares receive it other, 
 
 As we shall make our griefs and clamour rear 
 Upon his death '! 
 
 Macb. I am settled, and bend up 
 
 /Eacli corporal agent to this terrible feat. 
 -Away, and mock the time with fairest show : 
 False face must hide what the false heart doth 
 know. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 Scene l.—T/,e same. Court ivit/un the Castle. 
 Ejiter BaNQI'O and Fleance, and a Servant with 
 u torch before them. 
 
 Ban. How goes the night, boy t 
 
 Fie. The moon is down ; I have not heard the 
 clock. 
 
 Ban. And she goes down at twelve. 
 
 Fie. I take't, 'tis later, sir. 
 
 Ban. Hold, take my sword : — There's husbandry 
 in heaven, 
 Their candles are all out. — Take thee that too. 
 A heavy sunmions lies like lead upon me. 
 And yet I woiilii not sieeo : Alercd'ul powers! 
 Restrani in me tiie cursed thoughts, that nature 
 (Jives way to in repose I — Give me my sword ; — 
 
 Enter AlAcnETii, and a Servant with a torch. 
 
 Who's there? 
 
 Macb. A friend. [a-bed : 
 
 Ban \V^hat, sir, not yet at rest? The king's 
 He hath been in unusual pleasure, and 
 Sent forth great !arf;ess to yoirr oIKces : 
 This duiiiiond he greets your wile w>tlial. 
 By the name of most kind hostess; and sliot up 
 lu measureless content. 
 
 Macb. Being nnprepar'd. 
 
 Our will became the servant to delect; 
 Which else slutnld Iree have wrought 
 
 Ban. All's well. 
 
 I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters ; 
 To you they have show'd some truth. 
 
 Siacb. I think not of them : 
 
 Vet, when we can entreat an hoar to serve, 
 vVoiild spend it id some words upon that business, 
 If von would grant the time. 
 
 Ban. At your kind'st iei.snre. 
 
 Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, — when 
 It sh.ni make honour for you. ['tis. 
 
 Ban. So I lose none. 
 
 In seeking to augment it, bnt still keep 
 My bosiim francnis'd, and allegiance clear, 
 I siuill be couDsell'd. 
 
 Macb. Good repose, the while .' 
 
 Ban. Thanks, sir; the like to you! 
 
 [Exit Banquo. 
 
 Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is 
 ready, 
 She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. — 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Is this a dagger, which I see before lue. 
 The handle toward my hand ? Cone, let me clutch 
 
 thee: 
 
 \ have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
 Art thou uot, fatal vision, sensible 
 
 To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but 
 
 A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, 
 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? 
 
 I see thee yet, in form as palpable 
 
 As this which now I draw. 
 
 Thoii marshall'.st me the way that I was going; 
 
 And such an instrument I was to use. 
 
 Mine eyes are made the fools o'the other senses. 
 
 Or else worth all the rest : I see tliee still ; 
 
 And on thy blade and dudgeon, gouts of blood, 
 
 VViiich was not so belbre. — Tliere's no such thing- 
 
 It is the bloody business, which informs 
 
 I bus to mine eyes. — Now o'er tlie one half world 
 
 Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
 
 The curtaiii'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates 
 
 Pale Hecate's oti'ermgs; and witherd murder, 
 
 Alarum'd by his cenlinel, the wolf. 
 
 Whose bowl's his watch, thus with his stealthy 
 
 pace, [sign 
 With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his de- 
 Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and tirm-set 
 
 earth, 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
 The very stones prate of my where-aboiit, 
 And take the present honor from the time. 
 Which now suits with it.— VVhiles I threat, he 
 
 lives ; 
 Words to the heat of deeds too cold breatli gives. 
 
 {A bell ringt. 
 I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. 
 Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell 
 That suinnions thee to heaven, or to hell. [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — The name. 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, 
 hath made me bold : 
 What hath quench'd them, hath given ine fire : — 
 
 Hark !— Peace ! 
 It was the owl that shriek'd ; the fatal bellman, 
 Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it : 
 The doors are open; and the surieiled fjioums 
 Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd 
 
 their possets. 
 That death and nature do contend about them, 
 Whether they live, or die. 
 Macb. i'lithin.) Who's there ? — what, hoi 
 Lady M. Alack I I am afraid they have awaked. 
 And 'tis not done : — the attempt, and not the deed, 
 Confounds us ; — Haik I — I laid their daggeis ready, 
 He ci^uld not miss tlieni — Had he not resembled 
 My father as he slept, I had done't — My husband ? 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. I have done the deed: — Didst tiiou not 
 liear a noise ? 
 
 Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the 
 crickets cry. 
 Did not you speak? 
 
 Macb. When? 
 
 Lady M. Now. 
 
 Macb, As I descended? 
 
 Lady M. Ay. 
 
 Macb. Hark!— 
 Who lies i'the second chamber? 
 
 Lady M. Donalbain. 
 
 Macb. This is sorry sight, 
 
 {Looking on his handt.) 
 
 Lady M. A foolish thouglit, to say sorry sight. 
 
 Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and 
 
 one cried murder! [lliein: 
 
 That they did wake each other; I stood and heard 
 
 But they did say tlieir prayers, and address'd them 
 
 Again to sleep. 
 
 Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. 
 
 Macb. One cried, God bless us ! and, Atnen, the 
 other ; 
 As they had seen ine with' these h<ihginan'9 hands 
 Listening their tear, I could not say, auieu. 
 When they did say, God bUss us. 
 
270 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 Lrtdy M. Consider it not so deeply. 
 
 Macb. But wlierefore could not I pronounce, 
 r ii.id most need oi' blessing, and amen [amen ? 
 Aiick ill my throat. 
 
 Itady M. These deeds must not be thought 
 
 After tliese ways ; so, it will m;<ke us mad. 
 
 Macb. Metliought, I heard a voice cry. Sleep no 
 mure ! 
 Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; 
 Sleep, that knits up the raveW d sleave of care. 
 The death af each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
 <Chief nourisher in life's feast ; — 
 
 Lady M. What do you mean? 
 
 Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no fiiore ! to all the 
 
 house: [Catvdor 
 
 Glamis hath murder'd sleep; and therefore 
 
 Shall sleep tie more, Macbeth shall sleep no more! 
 
 Jjady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, 
 worthy thane, 
 You do iinbeufi your noble strength, to think 
 So brainsickly of things : — Go, get some water. 
 And wash this lilthy witness from your hand. — 
 Why did you bring these daggers from the place ? 
 They must lie there : Go, carry thera ; and smear 
 The sleepy grooms with blood. 
 
 Macb. I'll go 110 more : 
 
 I am alraid to think what I have done ; 
 Look oii't again, 1 dare not. 
 
 Lady M. Infirm of purpose ! 
 
 Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead, 
 Are but as pictures: tis the eye oi' childhood, 
 That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
 I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal. 
 For it must seem their guilt. 
 
 [Exit. Knocking within. 
 
 Macb. Whence is that knocking ? 
 
 How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? 
 VVhat hands are here ? Ha 1 they pluck out mine 
 
 eyes ! 
 Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand ? No; this my hand will rather 
 The multitudinous seas incarnardine. 
 Making the green — one red. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. My hands are of your colour ; but I 
 
 shame [ing 
 
 To wear a heart so white. [Knock.) I hear a knock- 
 At the south entry : — retire we to our chamber: 
 A little water clears us of this deed : 
 How easy is it then ? Your constancy 
 Hath left you unattended. — {Knocking.) Hark ! 
 
 more knocking : 
 Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, 
 And show us to be watchers : — Be not lost 
 So poorly in your thoughts. 
 
 Macb. To know my deed, — 'twere best not know 
 
 myself. (Knock.) 
 
 Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou 
 
 couldst ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. 
 Enter a Porter. {Knocking within.) 
 Port. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man were 
 porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the 
 key. {Knocking.) Knock, knock, knock : Who's 
 there, i'the name of Belzebub ? Here'sf a farmer, 
 that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty : 
 Come in time ; have napkins enough about you ; 
 here you'll sweat for't. {Knocking.) Knock, knock : 
 Who's there, i'the other devil's name ? 'Faith, 
 here's an equivocator, that could swear in both the 
 scales against either scale ; who committed treason 
 enough lor God's sake, yet could not equivocate 
 to heaven : O. come in, equivocator. {Knocking.) 
 Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? 'Faith, here's 
 Rn English tailor come hitiier, for stealing out of a 
 French hose : Come in, tailor; here you may roast 
 your gvose. (Knocking.) Knock, knock: Never at 
 
 quiet! What are you? — But this place is too cold 
 for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further : I hrid 
 thought to have let in some of all professions, that 
 go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. 
 {Knocking.} Anon, anon ; I pray you, remember 
 the porter. {Opens the gate.) 
 
 Enter Macduff a7id Lenox. 
 
 Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, 
 That you do lie so late ? 
 
 Port. 'Faith, sir, we were carousing till the 
 second cock: and drink, sir, is a great [irovoker oi 
 three things. 
 
 Macd. What three things does drink especially 
 provoke ? 
 
 Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, aud urine. 
 Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes ; it pro- 
 vokes the desire, but it takes away the performance : 
 Therefore, much drink may be said to be an eqiii 
 vocator with lechery : it makes him, and it mars 
 him; it sets him on, and it takes him olf; it per- 
 suades him, and dislieartens him; makes him stand 
 to, and not stand to : in conclusion, equi\ ocafes him 
 in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. 
 
 Macd. I believe, drink gave thee tiie lie last 
 night. 
 
 Port. That it did, sir, i'the very throat o'uie : 
 But I requited him for his lie ; and, I think, being 
 too strong for him, though he took up my legs 
 soflietime, yet I made a shift to cast hiiu. 
 
 Macd. Is thy master stirring? — 
 Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he cotnes. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Lrn. Good-morrow, noble sir! 
 
 Macb. Good-morrow, both ! 
 
 Macd. Is tlie king stirring, worthy thane '? 
 
 Macb. Not yet. 
 
 Macd. He did command me to call timely on him ; 
 I hnve almost slipp'd the hour. 
 
 Macb. I'll brins you to him. 
 
 Macd. I know, this is a joyful tjouble to you : 
 But yet, 'tis one. 
 
 Macb. The labour we delight in, physics pain. 
 This is the door. 
 
 Macd. I'll make so bold to call. 
 
 For 'tis my limited service. [Exit Macduff. 
 
 Len. Goes the king 
 
 From hence to-day ? 
 
 Macb. He does : — he did appoint it so. 
 
 Len. The night has been unruly: VVhere we lay. 
 Our chimneys were blown down : and, as they say, 
 Lamentings heard i'the air ; strange screams of 
 
 death ; 
 And prophecying, with accents terrible, 
 Of dire combustion, and confus'd events. 
 New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird 
 Clamour'd the livelong night, some say, the earth 
 Was feverous, and did shake. 
 
 Macb. 'Twas a rough night 
 
 Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel 
 A fellow to it 
 
 Re-enter Macduff. 
 
 Macd. O horror! horror! horror! Tongue, nor 
 Cannot conceive, nor name thee ! [heart, 
 
 Macb. Len. What's the matter? 
 
 Macd. Confusion now hath made his master-pieceJ 
 Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
 The Lords anointed temple, and stole thence 
 The life of the building. 
 
 Macb. What is't you say ? the life ? 
 
 Len. Mean yon his majesty? [sight 
 
 Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your 
 With a new Gorgon : — Do not bid me speak ; 
 See, and then speak yourselves. — A wake ! Awake . 
 [Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox. 
 Ring the alarum-bell : — Murder! and treason! 
 Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! Awake! 
 Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit* 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 271 
 
 And loi)k oil death itself! — up, np, and see 
 
 The great (loom's im^ge I Malcolm ! lianqiio ! 
 
 As fiom your graves rise up, and walk like sprig;hts, 
 To coiinlenance this horror! {Bell rings.) 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. What's the bnsiness. 
 That such a hideous trnmpet calls to parley 
 The sleepers of the house? speak, speak, 
 
 Macd. O, senile lady, 
 
 'Tis not for yoa to hear what I can speak : 
 The repetition, in a womau's ear, 
 Would murder as it fell. Banquo ! Banquo ! 
 
 Enter Banquo. 
 Our royal master's murder'd ! 
 
 Lady M. Woe, alas I 
 
 What, in our house? 
 
 Ban. Too cruel, any where. 
 
 Dear DuflF, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself, 
 And say, if, is not so. 
 
 Re-enter Macbeth and Lenox. 
 
 Mach. Had I but died an hour before this chance, 
 I had Piv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant. 
 There's nothing serious in mortality : 
 All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; 
 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 
 Is left this vault to brag of. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. 
 
 Don. What is amiss ? 
 
 Macb. You are, and do not know it : 
 
 The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood 
 Is stopp'd ; the very source of it is stopp'd. 
 
 Macd. Your royal father's murder'd. 
 
 Mai. O, by whom ? 
 
 Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had 
 doiie't : 
 Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood. 
 So were tiieir daggers, which, unwip'd, we found 
 Upon their pillows : 
 
 They stnr'd, and were distracted; no man's life 
 Was to be trusted with tlieni. 
 
 Mocb. O, yet 1 do repent me of my fury. 
 That I did kill tiiem. 
 
 Macd. Wherefore did you so? 
 
 Macb. Who can be wise, aniaz'd, temperate, and 
 furious. 
 Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: 
 The expedition of my violent love 
 Out-ran the pauser reason. — Here lay Duncan, 
 His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood ; 
 And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature 
 For ruin's wasteful entrance : there, the murderers, 
 Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers 
 Unmannerly breech'd with gore : Who could refrain. 
 That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
 Courage, to make his love known ? 
 
 Lady M. Help me hence, ho ! 
 
 Macd. Look to the lady. 
 
 Mai. Why do we hold our tongues. 
 
 That most may claim (his argument for ours ? 
 
 Don, What should be spoken here. 
 Where our fate, hid within an auger-hole, 
 May rush, and seize ns ? Let's away ; our tears 
 Are not yet brew'd. 
 
 Mai. Nor our strong sorrow on 
 
 The foot of motion. 
 
 Ban. Look to the lady : — 
 
 {Lady Macbeth is carried out.) 
 And when we have our naked frailties hid, 
 That suffer in exposure, let ns meet, 
 -A&d question this most bloody piece of work. 
 To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us : 
 In the great hand of God I stand; and, thence, 
 . Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight 
 Of treasonous malice. 
 Macb. And so do I. 
 
 All. So all 
 
 M<tcb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness, 
 
 And meet i'tlie hall together. 
 
 All. Well contented. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Mai. and Don. 
 
 Mai. What will you do? Let's not consort with 
 To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office [them : 
 
 Which the false man does easy : III to England. 
 
 Don. To Ireland I ; our separate fortune 
 Shall keep ns both the safer : where we are. 
 There's daggers in men's smiles : the near in blood 
 The nearer bloody. 
 
 Mai. This murderous shaft that's shot 
 
 Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way 
 Is, to avoid the aim. Therefijre, to iioise; 
 And let ns not be dainty of leave-taking, 
 But shift asvay : There's warrant in that theft. 
 Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— Without the Castle. ■ 
 Enter Rosse a7id an old Man. 
 
 Old M. Threescore and ten 1 can remember well : 
 Within the volume of which time, I have seen 
 Hours dreadful, and things strange ; but this sore 
 Hath trifled former knowings. [night 
 
 Bosse. Ah, good father. 
 
 Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled with man's 
 
 act, 
 Threaten his bloody stage ; by the clock 'tis day. 
 And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: 
 Is it night's predominance, or the day's shanle. 
 That darkness does the face of earth intomb. 
 When living light should kiss it? 
 
 Old M. __ 'Tis unnatural. 
 
 Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday la.st, 
 A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, 
 Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd. 
 
 Bosse. And Duncan's horses, ( a thing most 
 strange and certain,) 
 Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, 
 Turn'd wild in nature, broke tiieir stalls, flung out. 
 Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make 
 War with mankind. 
 
 0/d M. 'Tis said, they eat each other. 
 
 Rosse. They did so; to the amazement of mine 
 
 eyes, [dnft': — 
 
 That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Mac- 
 
 Enler Macduff. 
 
 How goes the world, sir, now ? 
 
 Macd. Why, see you not? 
 
 Rosse. Is't known, who did this moie than bloody 
 deed? 
 
 Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain. 
 
 Rosse. Alas, the day ! 
 
 What good could they pretend ? 
 
 Macd. They were suboru'd : 
 
 Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons, 
 Are stol'n away and fled ; which puts upon them 
 Suspicion of the deed. 
 
 Rosse. 'Gainst nature still : 
 
 Thriftless ambition, that wilt raven up 
 Thine own life's means! — Then, 'tis most like. 
 The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. 
 
 Macd. He is already nani'd ; and gone to Scone, 
 To be invested. 
 
 Rosse. Where is Duncan's body ? 
 
 Macd. Carried to Colmes kill ; 
 The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, 
 And guardian of their bones. 
 
 Rosse. Will you to Scone ? 
 
 Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. 
 
 Rosse. Well, I will thither. 
 
 Macd. Well, may you see things well done there ; 
 
 — adieu ! 
 
 Lest our old robes sit easier than our new ! 
 
 Rosse. Father, farewell. 
 
 Old M. God's benison go with you; and with 
 those 
 That would make good of bad, and friends of foes ! 
 
 Hxeunt, 
 
272 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Forfs. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Banquo. 
 Ban. Tliim hast it now, Ring, Cawdor, Glamis, 
 As the weird women proniis'd ; and, I fear, [all. 
 Thou play'dst most foidly for't: yet it was said. 
 It slu;;ihl not stand in thy posterity; 
 But that myself slioiild be the root, and fnther 
 Of many kings. If there come trnth from tiiem, 
 (As upon thee, Macbeth, flieir speeches sliiiie,) 
 Why, by tlie verities on thee made good. 
 May they not be my oracles as well. 
 And set me np in hope i But, hnsh ; no more. 
 
 Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as King ; Lady 
 Macbeth, as Quee7i ; Lenox, Kosse, Lords, 
 Jjadies, and Attendants. 
 Mach. Here's our chief guest. 
 Lady M. If he had been forgotten, 
 
 It had been as a gap in our great feast, 
 And all tilings unbecoming. 
 
 Macb. To night we hold a solemn supper, sir. 
 And I'll request your presence. 
 
 Ban. Let your highness 
 
 Command upon me ; to the which, my dntiet: 
 Are with a most indissoluble tie 
 For ever knit. 
 Macb. Ride you (his afternoon ? 
 Ban. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. We should have else desir'd yrnir good 
 advice 
 (Which still hath been both grave and prosperons,} 
 in this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow. 
 Is't far you ride i 
 
 Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time 
 'Tvvixt this and supper : go not my horse the better, 
 I must become a borrower of the night, 
 For a dark hour, or twain. 
 
 Macb. Fail not our feast. 
 
 Ban. My lord, I will not. 
 
 Macb. We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd 
 In England, and in Ireland; not conic'ssing 
 Their cruel parricide, tilling their hearers 
 With strange mvention : But of that to morrow ; 
 When, therewithal, we shall have cause of state. 
 Craving us jointly. Hie yon to horse: Adieu, 
 Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? 
 Ban. Ay . my good lord : our time docs call upon us. 
 Macb. I wish your horses swiff, and sure of foot ; 
 And so I do commend you to their backs. 
 Farewell. — _ lExit Banquo. 
 
 Ijet every man be master of his time 
 Till seven at night; to make society 
 'I'lie sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself 
 Till siipper-time alone : while then, God be with you. 
 [Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, '§fc. 
 Sirrah, a word : Attend those men our pleasure :" 
 Attend. They are, my lord, without the palace 
 
 gate. 
 Macb. Bring them before us. — [Exit Attendant. 
 To be thus, is nothing ; 
 But to be safely thus: — Our iears in Banquo 
 Stick deep ; and in his royalty of nature 
 Keigns that, which would be fear'd : Tis much he 
 
 dares ; 
 And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, 
 He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour 
 'J'o act in safely. There is none, but he, 
 Whose being I do fear: and, under him, 
 My genius is rebuk'd ; as, it is said, 
 Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters. 
 When tirst they put the name of King upon me. 
 And bade them speak to him ; then, prophet-like. 
 They hail'd him father to a line of kings : 
 Upon my heud they plac'd a fruitless crown. 
 And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, 
 Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, 
 No son of mine succeeding. If it be so. 
 For Banquo's issue have 1 fil'd my mmd ; 
 For tliem the graeious Duncan have 1 murder'd ; 
 
 Put rajicours in the vessel of my peace 
 
 Only for them : and mine eternal jewel 
 
 Given to tlie common enemy of man, 
 
 To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! 
 
 Rather than so, come, fate, into the list. 
 
 And champion me to the utterance ! — Who's there? 
 
 Re-enter Attendatit, with iivo Murderers. 
 
 Now to the door, and stay there till we call. 
 
 [Exit Attendant 
 Was it not yesterday we spoke together? 
 1 Miir. It was, so please your highness. 
 Macb. Well then, now 
 
 Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know, 
 That it wiis he, in the times past, which held you 
 So under fortune : which, you thought, had been 
 Our innocent self: this I made good to yon 
 In our last conference ; pass'd in probation with jdii. 
 How you were borne in hand; how cross'd ; tlie in- 
 struments ; 
 Who wrought with them; and all things else, that 
 To hnlf a soul, and a notion craz'd, imiglit. 
 
 Say, Thus did Banquo. 
 
 J Miir. You made it known to iis. 
 
 Macb. I did so; and went further, which is now 
 Our point of second lueeling. Do you find 
 Your patience so predominant in your nature. 
 That you can let this go ? Are you so gospeil'd. 
 To pray for this good man, and for his issue. 
 Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave, 
 And heggar'd yours lor ever? 
 
 1 Mi/r. We are men, rny liege. 
 
 Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men ; 
 As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels,cur.s, 
 Shoughs, water-riigs. and denii wolves, are cieped 
 All by the name of dogs: the valued tile 
 Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle. 
 The house-keeper, the hunter, every one 
 According to the gift which bounteous nature 
 Hath in him rios'd ; whereby he does receive 
 Particular adilition, trom the bi!l 
 That writes them all alike : and so of men. 
 Now, if you ha\e a station in the tile. 
 And not in the worst rank of manhood, say it; 
 And I will put that business in your bosoms, 
 Whose execution takes your enemy olf ; 
 Grapples you to the heart and love of us, 
 Who wear our health but sickly in his life. 
 Which in his death were perfect. 
 
 2 Mur. I am one, my liegi-. 
 
 Whom the \ile blows and biifTets of the woild 
 Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what 
 i do, to spite the world. 
 
 1 Mur. And I another, 
 So weary with disasters, tiigg'd with fortune, 
 'i'hat 1 would set my life on any chance, 
 
 'i\) mend it, or be rid on't. 
 
 Macb. Both of you 
 
 Know, Banquo was your enemy. 
 
 2 Mur. True, my lord. 
 Macb. So is he mine : and in such bloody distance, 
 
 That e\ery minute of his being thrusts 
 Against my near'st ol life : And though 1 could 
 With bare-fac'd power sweep him from my sight. 
 And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, 
 For certain friends that are both his and mine. 
 Whose loves 1 may not drop, but wail his fall 
 Whom 1 myself struck down: and thence it is. 
 That I to your assistance do make love ; 
 Masking the business from the common eye. 
 For sundry weighty reasons. 
 
 2 Mur, We shall, my lord 
 
 Perform what you command us. 
 
 1 Mur. Though our lives — 
 
 Macb. Your spirits shine through you. Within 
 this hour, at most, 
 I will advise you where to plant yourselves. 
 Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'the time, 
 The moment on't ; for't must be done to-night. 
 And something from the palace : always thougbt. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 278 
 
 That I require a clearness : And with lilm, 
 (To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the worii,) 
 Fleance his son, that keeps hin* company, 
 Whose absence is no less material to me 
 Than is his father's, must embrace the fate 
 Of that dark hour. Resolve yoursehes apart; 
 I'll come to you anon. 
 
 2 Mur We are resolv'd, my lord. 
 
 Macb. I'll call npou you straight ; abide within. 
 
 It is concluded : Banqiio, thy soul's flight. 
 
 If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Another Room. 
 Enter Lady Macbeth otid a Servant. 
 
 Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court? 
 
 Serv. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. 
 
 Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his 
 For a lew words. [leisure 
 
 Serv. Madam, I will. [Exit. 
 
 Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent, 
 
 Where our desire is got without content : 
 "Pis safer to be that which we destroy. 
 Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 How now, my lord ? why do you keep alone. 
 Of sorriest fancies your companions making? 
 Using those tijoughts, which should indeed have died 
 With them they think on? Things without remedy, 
 Sliould be without regard : what's done, is done. 
 
 Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it ; 
 She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice 
 Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
 But let 
 
 The frame of things disjoint, botli the worlds sutfer. 
 Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
 In the affliction of these terrible dreams. 
 That shake us nightly : better be with the dead. 
 Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace. 
 Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
 In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave ; 
 After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; 
 Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, 
 Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
 Can touch him further ! 
 
 Lady M. Come on ; 
 Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks ; 
 Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night. 
 
 Macb. So shall I, love ; and so, I pray, be you : 
 I^t your remembrance apply to Banquo ; 
 Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue : 
 Unsafe the while, that we 
 
 Must lave our honours in these flattering streams ; 
 And make our faces vizards to our hearts. 
 Disguising what they are. 
 
 Lady M. You mnst leave this. 
 
 Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 
 Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleauce, live. 
 
 Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eteme. 
 
 Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; 
 Then be thou jocund : ere the bat hath flown 
 His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's sum- 
 mons, 
 The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums. 
 Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done 
 A deed of dreadful note. 
 
 Lady M. NMiat's to be done ? 
 
 Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 
 chuck. 
 Till tliou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, 
 Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
 .4nd, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
 Cancel, ami tear to pieces, that great bond 
 Which keeps me pale! — Light thickens; and the 
 Makes wing to the rooky wood : [crow 
 
 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
 Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 
 Tho-; marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still ; 
 
 Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill 
 So, pr'ythee, go with me. [ Eveutit. 
 
 Scene 1 1 1. — The same. A Park or Lawn, voith 
 
 a Gate leading to the Palace. 
 
 Enter Three Murderers. 
 
 1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 
 
 3 Mur. i Macbeth. 
 
 2 Mur. He needs not our mistrust : since he de- 
 Our offices, and what we have to do, [livere 
 To the direction just. 
 
 1 Mur. Then stand with us. 
 
 The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day- 
 Now spurs the lated traveller apace. 
 To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches 
 The subject of our watch. 
 
 3 Mur. Hark ! I hear horses. 
 Ban. ( Within.) Give us a light there, hoi 
 
 ^ Mur. Then itishe; th©r(ist 
 
 That are within the note of expectation. 
 Already are i'the court. 
 
 1 Mur. His horses go abouL 
 
 3 Mur. Almost a mile : but he does usually, 
 So all men do, from hence to the palace gate 
 Make it their walk. 
 
 Enter Banquo and FiEANcas, a Servant with a 
 torch preceding them. 
 
 2 Mur. A light, a light ! 
 
 3 Mur. Tis he.— 
 1 Mur. Stand tot. 
 
 Ban. It will, be rain to-night. 
 1 Mur. Let it come down. 
 
 {Assaults Banquo.) 
 Ban. O, treachery ! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly ; 
 Thou may'st revenge. — O slave ! 
 
 (Diss. Fleance and Servant escape.) 
 3 Mur. Who did strike out the light ? 
 
 1 Mur. Wast not the wind? 
 3 Mur. There's but one down ; the son is fled. 
 
 2 Mur. We have lost best half of our aflair. 
 
 I Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is 
 done. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— 4 Room of State in the Palace. A 
 Banquet prepared. 
 
 Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, Lenox,, 
 Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down ; 
 An<i last, the hearty welcome. [at firsi 
 
 Lords. Thanks to your majesty 
 
 Macb. Ourself will mingle with society. 
 And play the humble host. 
 Our hostess keeps her state ; but, in best time, 
 We will require her welcome. [friends^ 
 
 Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all ous- 
 For my heart speaks, they are welcome. 
 
 Enter first Murderer, to the door. 
 
 Macb, See, they. encounter thee with their heart.V 
 thanks ; — — 
 Both sides are even: Here I'll sit L'the midst: 
 Be large in mirth ; anon, we'll drink. a measure 
 The table round. — There's blood upon thy tace. 
 
 Mur, 'Tis Banquo's then. 
 
 Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within. 
 Is he despatch'd ? 
 
 Mur. Aly lord, his throat is cnt^ that 1 did for 
 him. [he's goo<l, 
 
 Macb. Thou art the best o'the cut-thiwats : Ytt 
 That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst.it, 
 Thou art the nonpareil. 
 
 Mur. Most royal sir, 
 
 Fleance is 'scap'd. [perfect; 
 
 Macb. Then coraes my fit again : I had else been 
 Whole as the marble, founded as the rock ; 
 As broad, and general, as the casing air : 
 But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in. 
 To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe ? 
 
 Mur. Ay, my good lord : safe in a ditch he bidM, 
 
 18 
 
274 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 With twenty trenched gashes on his head; 
 Tl:e least a death to nature. 
 
 AJacb. Thanks for that :— 
 
 There (he grown serpent lies ; the worm, tliafs lied, 
 H^itli nature that in time will venom hreed, 
 Nj teetfi tor the present. — Get thee gone ; to-morrow 
 VV'c II hear, ourselves again. 
 
 \Exii Murderer. 
 
 Lad// M. My royal lord, 
 
 ^ O.I do not give the cheer : the feast is sold, 
 Tiiat is not often voucii'd, while 'lis a making, 
 Tis given with welcome : To feed, were best at 
 
 home ; 
 From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony ; 
 Meeting were bare without it. 
 
 Macb. Sweet remembrancer! 
 
 Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
 And health on both ! 
 
 X/fiB. May it please your highness sit? 
 
 (The Ghost of Ban quo rises, and sits in 
 Macbeth's place.) 
 
 Macb. Here had we now our country's honour 
 roof'd.. 
 Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; 
 Who may I rather challenge for unkindness, 
 Thnn pity for mischance.' 
 
 Rosse. His absence, sir, 
 
 Tj^ys blame upon his promise. Please it your high- 
 To ?race us with your royal company? [ness 
 
 Macb. The table's full. 
 
 Len. Here's a place reaerv'd, sir. 
 
 Macb. Where ? 
 
 Len. Here, my lord. What is't that 
 
 moves your highuess i 
 
 Macb. Which of you have done this ? 
 
 Lords. What, my good lord '.' 
 
 Macb. Thou canst not say, I did it : never shake 
 Thy gory locks at me. 
 
 Rosse. Gentlemen, rise ; his highness is not well. 
 
 Lady M. Sit, worthy friends : — my lord is often 
 thus, [seat ; 
 
 And hath been from his youth : pray you, keep 
 The fit is momentary ; u()on a thought 
 He will again be well : If much you note him. 
 You shall ofl'end him, and extend his passion ; 
 Feed, and regard him not. — Are you a man? 
 
 Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that 
 Which miyht appal the devil. 
 
 Ladij M. O proper stuff! 
 
 This is the very painting of your fear : 
 This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said. 
 Led you to Duncan. O, these, flaws, and starts, 
 ^Impostors to true fear,) would well become 
 A woaaan's story, at a winter's fire, 
 Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! 
 Why do you make such faces ? When all's done. 
 You look but on a stool. 
 
 Macb. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! 
 
 how say you ? 
 
 Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. — 
 If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send 
 Those that we bury, back, our monuments 
 Sliall be the maws of kites. {Ghost disappears.) 
 Lady M. What ! quite unmann'd in folly 'r 
 
 Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 
 Lady M. Fy, for shame ! 
 
 Macb. Blood hatli been shed ere now, i'the olden 
 time, 
 Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ; 
 Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd 
 Too terrible for the car : the times have been, 
 That, when the brains were out, the man would die, 
 And there an end : but now, they rise again, 
 With twenty mortal murders on their crowns. 
 And push us from our stools : This is more strange 
 i nan such a murder is. 
 
 Lady M. My worthy lord, 
 
 Yonr noble friends do lack yon. 
 
 JH^cb. I do forget:— 
 
 Uo not muse at me, my most worthy friends ; 
 
 I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 
 To those that know me. Come, love and health to 
 all ; [full ;— 
 
 Then I'll sit down : Give me some wine, till 
 
 I drink to the general joy of the whole table, 
 
 Ghvst rises. 
 And to our dear frieni Banquo, whom we miss; 
 Would he were here I ti; all, and him, we thirst. 
 And all to all. 
 
 Lords. Our duties, and tlie pledge. 
 
 Macb. Ava(mt! and quit my sight! Lttthe eartli 
 hide thee ! 
 Thy bones a'e niarrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
 'J'hou hast no speculation in those eyes 
 Which thou dost glare with ! 
 
 Lady M. Think of this, good peers. 
 
 But as a thing of custom : 'tis no other; 
 Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 
 
 Macb. What man dare, I dare : 
 Approach thou like tiie rugged Russian bear. 
 The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger. 
 Take any shape but that., and my firm nerves 
 Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, 
 And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
 If trembling I inhibit thee, protest ine 
 The baby of a girl, Heuce, horrible shadow ! 
 
 [Ghost disappears.) 
 Unreal mockery, hence ! — Why, so ; — being gone, 
 I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still. 
 Lady M. You have displac'd the mirth, broke 
 the good meeting. 
 With most atlmir'd disorder. 
 
 Macb. Can such tilings be. 
 
 And overcome us like a summer's cloud. 
 Without our special wonder ? You make rne strangle 
 Even to the disposition that I owe. 
 When now I think you can behold such sights, 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks. 
 When mine are blanch'd with fear. 
 Rosse. What sights, my lord ? 
 
 Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse 
 and worse ; 
 Question enrages him : at once, good night: — 
 Stand not upon i\\s order of your going. 
 But go at once. 
 
 Len. Good night, and better health 
 
 Attend his majesty ! . 
 
 Lady M. A kind good night to all ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lords and Attendants. 
 
 Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will 
 
 have blood : [speak ; 
 
 Stones have been known to move, and trees to 
 
 Augurs, and understood relations, have 
 
 By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brouglit 
 
 forth 
 The secret'st man of blood. — What is the night? 
 Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which 
 
 which. 
 Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies 
 person. 
 At our great bidding ? 
 
 Lady M. Did yon send to him, sir 
 
 Macb. 1 hear it by the way ; but I will send ; 
 There's not a one of them, but in his house 
 I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow, 
 (Betimes I will,) unto the weird sisters : 
 More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know, 
 By the worst means, the worst : for mine own 
 
 good. 
 All causes shall give way ; I am in blood 
 Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more, 
 Returning were as tedious as go o'er : 
 Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; 
 Which must be acted, ere they may be scann'd. 
 Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, 
 
 sleep. 
 Macb. Come, we'll to sleep : My strange and 
 self-abuse 
 Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use : — 
 We are yet but young in deed. [Exeunt. 
 
 I 
 
Scene G 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 275 
 
 Scene \.— Thp. Heath. Thunder. 
 Jlnter Hecate, meetinf/ the three Witches. 
 
 1 Witch. Wliy, how now, Hecate? you look 
 ang^erly. 
 
 Hec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are. 
 Saucy, and overbold ? How did yon dare 
 To trade and triiffic with Macbeth, 
 In riddles, and allairs of death; 
 And I, tlie mistress of your charms, 
 The close contriver of all liarnis. 
 Was never cali'd to bear my i;art, 
 Or show the glory of our ait? 
 And, which is worse, all you have done 
 Hath been but for a wayward son, 
 .Si>iteiul, and wrathful ; who, as titliers do, 
 Loves for his own ends, not for you. 
 But make amends now : Get you gone, 
 And'at the pit of Acheron 
 Meet nie i'the morning; thither he 
 Will come to know his destiny. 
 Your vessels, and your spells, provide. 
 Your charms, and every thing Beside • 
 I am for the air ; this night I'll speud 
 Unto a dismal- fatal end. 
 Great business must he wrought ere noon 
 Upon the corner of the moon 
 There hangs a vaporous drop profound ; 
 I'll catch it ere it come to ground : 
 And that, distill'd by magic slights, 
 Shall raise such artihcial sprights. 
 As, by tile strength of their illusion. 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion : 
 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 
 His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear : 
 And you all know, security 
 Is mortals' chiefest enemy. 
 
 Song (ffithin.) Come away, come away,§('c. 
 Hark, I am called; my little spirit, see. 
 Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Exit. 
 
 1 Witch. Come, let's make haste ; she'll soon be 
 back agaiH. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Fores. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Lenox atid another Lord. 
 JLen. My former speeches have but hit your 
 
 thoughts, 
 Wliich can interpret further: only, I say, 
 Things have been strangely borne : 'J'he gracious 
 
 Duncan 
 Was pitied of Macbeth : — marry, he was dead : — 
 And the right-valiant Banquo walk d too late : 
 Whom, you may say, it it please you, Fleance 
 
 kill'd. 
 For Fleance lied. Men must not walk too late. 
 Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous 
 It was for Malcolm, and tor Donalbain, 
 To kill their gracious father i damned fact ! 
 How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight, 
 In pious rage, the two delinquents tear, 
 That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep? 
 Was not that nobly done ? Ay, and wisely too ; 
 For 'twould have anger'd any lieart alive, 
 To hear the men deny it. So that, I say, 
 He has borne all things well : and I do thiuk. 
 That, had he Duncan's sons under his key, 
 (As, an't please hea\ en, he shall not,) they should 
 
 (lud 
 What 'twere to kill a father: so should Fleance. 
 But, peace ! — for from broad words, and 'cause he 
 
 faU'd 
 Hig presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, 
 Macduff lives in disgrace : Sir, can you tell 
 Where he bestows himself? 
 
 Lord. The son of Duncan, 
 
 From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, 
 Lives in the English court; and is receiv'd 
 Of the raost pious Edward with such grace, 
 That the malevolence of fortune nothing 
 
 Takes from his high respect : Thither Mdcdaff 
 
 Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid 
 
 To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward 
 
 That, by the help of these, (with Illru above 
 
 To ralily the work.) we may again 
 
 Give to our tables meat, slee to our nights ; 
 
 Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives; 
 
 Do faithful homage, and receive free honours. 
 
 All which we pine for now : And this report 
 
 Hath so exasperate fhe king, that he 
 
 Prepares for some attempt of war. 
 
 Len. Sent he to Macdiiil'I 
 
 Lord. He did : and with an abs<jlule, Sir, not /> 
 The cloudy messenger turns me his back. 
 And bums ; as who should say. You'll rue the time 
 That clo'js me with this ansiver. 
 
 Len. And that vvell niighl 
 
 Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance 
 His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel 
 Fly to the court of England, and uiiiold 
 His message ere he come; that a swilt blessing 
 May soon return to this our suffering country 
 Under a hand accurs'd ! 
 
 Lord. My prayers with him I 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A dark Cave, hi the middle, a Caul- 
 dron boiling. Thunder. 
 
 Enter the three Witches. 
 
 1 TT'ttch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. 
 
 2 TVitch. Thrice ; and once ihe hedge-pig whin'd. 
 
 3 Witch. Harper cries: — 'Tis time, 'tis time. 
 
 1 Witrh. Round about (he cauldron go ; 
 In the poison'd entrails throw. 
 
 Toad, that under coldest stone. 
 Days and nights hast thirty-one 
 Swelter'd venom sleeping got, 
 Boil thou first i'the chsriiied pot ! 
 All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
 Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 2 V itch. Fillet of a fenny snake. 
 In the cauldron boil and bake: 
 Eye of newt, and toe of frog. 
 Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, 
 Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, 
 Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, 
 
 For a charm of powerful trouble. 
 Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 
 All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
 Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 
 3 f Filch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf i 
 Witches' mummy ; maw, and gulf. 
 
 Of tlie ravin'd salt-sea shark ; 
 
 Root of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark ; 
 
 Liver of blaspheming Jew; 
 
 Gall of goat, and slips of yew, 
 
 Sliver'd io the moon's eclipse; 
 
 Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; 
 
 Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
 
 Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, 
 
 Make the gruel thick and slab : 
 
 Add thereto a tiger's chawdron, 
 
 For the ingredients of our cauldron. 
 All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
 
 Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
 2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood. 
 
 Then the charm is firm and good. 
 Enter Hecate, and the other three WitehoP. 
 Hec. O, well done ! I commend your pains; 
 
 And every one shall share i'the gains. 
 
 And now about the cauldron sing, 
 
 Like elves and fairies in a ring. 
 
 Enchanting all that you put in. 
 
 SONG. 
 Black spirits and white. 
 
 Red spirits and fjrey ; 
 Minijle, minijle, mirtyle. 
 
 You that minyle may. 
 
276 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act IV^ 
 
 2 Wilch. By the pricking of my thanibs. 
 Something wicked this way comes: — 
 Open, locks, whoever knocks. 
 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Mach. How now, jou secret, black, and inid- 
 What is't you do ? [night hags ? 
 
 A ll. A deed without a name. 
 
 Mach. I conjure yon, by that wliich you profess, 
 (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me : 
 Tliough you untie the winds, and let tliem tight 
 Against tlie churches ; though tiie yesty waves 
 Confound and swiiliow navigation up; 
 Tiiotigh biaded corn be lodg'd, and trees blown 
 
 down ; 
 Though castles topple on their warders' heads ; 
 Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
 Their heads to their foundations : though the treasure 
 Of nature's germins tumble all togetlier, 
 Even till «lcslniction sicken, answer me 
 To wiiat I ask you. 
 
 1 Witch. Speak. 
 
 2 fVitch. Demand. 
 
 3 ff itch. We'll answer. 
 
 1 Witch. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our 
 Or Iron) our masters' ? [mouths, 
 
 Mach. Call them, let me see them. 
 
 1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten 
 Her nine farrow; grease, that's sweaten 
 From tlie ninrdeier's gibbet, throw 
 Into the flame. 
 All. Come, high, or low ; 
 
 Thyself, and office, deftly show. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition of an armed Head 
 rises, 
 
 Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power, 
 
 1 Witch. He knows thy thought ; 
 
 Hear his speech, but say thou nouglit. 
 
 Ap]>. Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth ! beware 
 Macduff; 
 Bcwnre tlie thane of Fife. — Dismiss me : — Enough. 
 
 [Descends.) 
 
 Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, 
 
 thanks ; [more : — 
 
 Thou hast harp'd my fear aright : — But one word 
 
 1 Jf itch. He will not be commanded : Here's 
 
 More potent than the 6ist. [another. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition of a bloody Child rises. 
 
 App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!— 
 
 Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. 
 
 App. Be bloody, bold, 
 
 And resolute ; laugh to scorn the power of man, 
 For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. 
 
 [Descends.) 
 
 Macb. Then live, Macdufl': What need I fear 
 of thee ? 
 But yet I'll make assui4>nce double sure, 
 And take a bond of fate : thou .shalt not live ; 
 That I may tell pale-hearted fear, it lies. 
 And sleep in spite of thunder.— What is this. 
 
 Thunder. An Apparition of a Child crowned, 
 with a tree in his hand, rises. 
 
 Tb»t rises like the issue of n king ; 
 
 And wears upon his baby brow tiie round 
 
 And top of sovereignty '? 
 
 All. Listen, but speak not. 
 
 App. Be lion-mettled, proud ; and take no care 
 VVho chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are : 
 Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until 
 Great Biroaui wood to high Dunsinane hill 
 Shall come against hiui. (Descends.) 
 
 Macb. Tiiat will never be ; 
 
 Who can impress the fon-st ':* bid the tree 
 Unfix hiseartb-houiiil root? Sweet bodements ! good ! 
 
 Rebellions head, rise never, till the wood 
 Of Birnam rise, and our high-pla'j'd Macbeth 
 Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath 
 To time, and mortal custom. — Yet my heart 
 Throbs to know one thing ; tell me, (if your art 
 Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever 
 Reign in this kingdom '? 
 
 All. Seek to know no more. 
 
 Macb. I will be satisfied ; deny me this, 
 And an eternal curse fall on you ! Let me know: — 
 Why sinks that cauldron '^ and what noise is this ? 
 
 [Hautboys.) 
 
 1 Witch. Sh(>w ! 2 Witch. Show! 3 Witch. Show! 
 
 All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; 
 Come like shadows, so depart. 
 
 Eight Kings appear, and pass over the Stage in 
 order: the last tvith a glass in his hand; 
 Banquo follotving. 
 
 Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Biinquo, 
 down I fhair. 
 
 Thy crowH does sear mine eye-balls: — And thy 
 Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first : — 
 A third is like the former :— Filthy hags! 
 Why do you show me this'!* — A fourth? — Start, 
 eyes ! [doom ? 
 
 What! will the line stretch out to the crack of 
 Another yet'? — A seventh '? — I'll see uo more : — ■ 
 And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass. 
 Which shows me many more ; and some I see, 
 That two- fold balls and treble sceptre.s carry : 
 Horrible sight ! — Ay, now, I see, 'tis true ; 
 For-the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, 
 And points at them for his. — What, is this so ? 
 
 1 Witch. Ay, sir, ail this is so : — But why 
 Stands Macbeth thus amazedly '? — 
 Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprighfs. 
 And show the best of our delights ; 
 I'll charm the air to give a sound, 
 While you perform your antique round : 
 That this great king may kindly say. 
 Our duties did his welcome pay 
 
 [Music. The fVitches dance, and vanish.) 
 
 Macb. Where are they ? Gone 'i*- Let this per- 
 nicious hour 
 Stand aye acciu'sed in the calendar! — 
 Come in, without there! 
 
 Enter Lenox. 
 
 Len. What's your grace's will ? 
 
 Macb, Saw you the weird sisters ? 
 
 Le7t, No, my loriL 
 
 Macb. Came they not by you ? 
 
 Len. No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 Macb. Infected be the air whereon they lide ; 
 And dainn'd all those that trust them ! — 1 did hear 
 'J'lie galloping of horse : Who was't came by "i" 
 
 Le7i. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you 
 Macduff is fled to England. [word, 
 
 Macb. Fled to England '/ 
 
 Len. -4y, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. 'rime, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits : 
 The flighty purpose never is o'ertook. 
 Unless the deed go with it: From this moment. 
 The very firstlings of my heart shall he 
 The firstlings of my hand. And even now. 
 To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and 
 
 done : 
 The castle of Macduff I will surprise ; 
 Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge othe sword 
 His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls 
 That trace his line. No boasting like a fool ; 
 This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool : 
 But no more sights !— Where are these gentlemen ? 
 Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene \l.—Fife. A Room in Macduff s Castle. 
 Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Rossk. 
 Lady Macd. VVliat had he done, to make him fly 
 the land ? 
 
Scene '6. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 277 
 
 Rosse. Vou must have patience, madam. 
 
 L. Macd. He had none: 
 
 HU lli^lii was madness : When our actions do not. 
 Our Iriirs do make us traitors. 
 
 Ruise. You know not, 
 
 VVhrtliPr it was his wisdom, or his fear. 
 
 L. Macd. Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave 
 his habes. 
 His iiian.sion, and his titles, in a place 
 From whence himself does tly ? He loves lis not; 
 He wants the natural touch : for the poor wren, 
 'rite Mi'ist iliniinutive of birds, will fi>>ht, 
 Her yi'uuj; ones in her nest, against tlie owl. 
 All is the fear, and nothing is the love : 
 As little is the wisdom, vviiere tiie (light 
 So nitis against all reason. 
 
 Rosse. My dearest cos', 
 
 1 pray you, school yourself; but, for your husband, 
 He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows 
 The fits (I'the season. I dare not speak much further : 
 Cut cruel are the times, when we are traitors. 
 And do not know ourselves ; when we hold rumour 
 From what we fear, yet know not what we fear ; 
 But float upon a wild and violent sea. 
 Each way, and mnve. — I take my leave of you : 
 Shall not be long but I'll be here agani : 
 Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward 
 To what they were before. — My pretty cousin, 
 Blensing upon you ! 
 
 L. Macd. I'ather'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. 
 
 Russ'. 1 am so much a fool, shoidd I stay longer, 
 It would be my disgrace, and your discoinforl : 
 I take my leave at onr<». [Exil Rosse. 
 
 L. Mnrd. Sirrah, your father's dead ; 
 And what will yon do now .'* How will you li\'e? 
 
 Sun. As birds ilo, mother. 
 
 L. Macd. What, with worms and flies? 
 
 Son. With what I ijet, 1 mean; and so do they. 
 
 L Macd. Poor bird I thou'dst never fear the net. 
 The pit-lall, nor the gin. [nor lime. 
 
 Son. Wiiy should I, mother? Poor birds tiiey 
 are not set for. 
 My fallK^r is not dead, for all your saying. 
 
 L. Macd. "^'es, he is dead ; how will thou do for 
 a father ? 
 
 Snn. Nay, hovv will you do for a husband? 
 
 fj. Macd. Why, I cau buy me twenty at any 
 market. 
 
 Son. Then you'll buy em to sell again. 
 
 /.. Macd. riinu speak'st >vith all thy wit; and 
 yet i'faiiii. 
 With wit enough for thee. 
 
 Son. Was my father a traitor, mother? 
 
 Ij. Macd. Ay, that lie was. 
 
 Son. What is a traitor? 
 
 L. Macd. ^Vhy, one that swears and lies. 
 
 Son. And be all tiaitors, that do so? 
 
 L. .Macd. livery one that does so, is a traitor, 
 a<id must be hanged. (and lie ? 
 
 Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear 
 L. Mitcd. Every one. 
 
 Son. Wiio must hang them? 
 
 L. Macd. Why, the honest men. 
 
 Son. Then the liars and swea'.ers are fools : for 
 there are liart and swearers enough to beat the 
 honest men, and hang up them. 
 
 L. Macd. Now God help thee, poor monkey ! 
 But how wdt thoii do for a father? 
 
 Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him: if you 
 would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly 
 have a new father. 
 L. Macd. Poor prattler ! how thou talk'st ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you 
 known, 
 Though ii) your state of honour I am perfect. 
 I ddulit, some danger does approach you nearly : 
 If you will take a homely man's advice, 
 Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. . 
 
 To fright you thus, methinks, I am too sa\agf ; 
 'I'o do worse to you, were fell cruelty, [jon ! 
 
 Which is too ni^h your persotK Heaven preserve 
 I dare abide uo longer. ^Exit Messenger. 
 
 L. Macd. ' Whither sluudd I f.y ? 
 
 I have done no harm. But I remember now 
 I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm. 
 Is often laudable ; to do good, sometime. 
 Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! 
 Do I put up that womanly defence. 
 
 To say, I nave done no harm ? What are these 
 
 faces ? 
 
 Enter Murderers. 
 Mur. Where is your husband ? 
 L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified, 
 Where such as thou may'st tiiid him. 
 
 Mur. He's a traitor. 
 
 Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-ear'd villain. 
 Mur. What, you egg? {Stabbing him.) 
 
 Young fry of treachery? 
 
 Son. He has killed' me, mother : 
 
 Run away, I pray you. {Dies.) 
 
 lExit Lady Macduff, crying murder, 
 and pursued by the Murderers. 
 
 Scene HI. — England. A room in tlie King's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and Macduff. 
 
 Mai. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and 
 Weep our sad bosoms eiuptx. [the're 
 
 Macd. Let us ralher 
 
 Hold fast the niorfal sword: and, like gO(nI men. 
 Bestride our down-i'airn liirdidom : Each new morn. 
 New widows iiowl ; new oipliaiis cry; new sorrows 
 Strike heaven on (he face, that it resoiuids 
 As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out 
 Like syllable of dolour. 
 
 Mai. What I believe, I'll wail ; 
 
 What know, bf lieve ; and, what I ran r< dress. 
 As I shall find the lime to (iiend, I will. 
 W hat you have spoke, it may be so, perchance. 
 This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our t<u>gues. 
 Was once thought honest : you have lov'd him well ; 
 He hath not (oiich'd you yet. I am young ; but 
 
 something 
 You may deserve of him through me; and wisdom 
 'i'o offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb, 
 To appease an angry god. 
 
 Macd. I am not treacherous. 
 
 Mai. But Macbeth is. 
 
 A good and virtuous nature may recoil. 
 In an imperial charge. But 'crave your ))ard(Mi ; 
 That which you are, my iluaiglits cannot transiiose : 
 Angels are bright still, though the brightest tell : 
 I'hougli all things foul would wear the br<n\s of 
 Yet grace must stiil look so. Ii'.race, 
 
 Macd. I have lost my hojcs. 
 
 Mai. Perchance, e\en there, where 1 did tiud ray 
 doubts. 
 Why in that rawness left von wife, and child, 
 (Those precious motives, tliose strong knots of love,) 
 Without lea\e taking? — I pray you. 
 Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, 
 But mine own safeties : — Vou may be rightly just, 
 Whatever I shall think. 
 
 Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor coimtry ! 
 
 Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure. 
 For goodness dares nut check thee ! wear thou thj 
 
 wrongs. 
 Thy title is afleei-'d ! — Fare thee well, lord : 
 i would not be the villain that thou think'st , 
 For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, 
 Anil the rich East to boot. 
 
 Mai. Be not oflfended : 
 
 [ speak not as in absolute fear of you. 
 I think, our country sinks beneatn the yoke; 
 It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash 
 Is added to her wounds : I think, withal. 
 There would be hands uplifted in my right; 
 
MACBETH. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And here, from gracious Englanil, have I offer 
 Of gooilly thousands : lint, tor all this, 
 VVlieii I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, 
 Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country 
 Shall have more vices than it had before; 
 More siift'er, and more sundry ways than ever, 
 liy him that shall succeed. 
 
 Macd. Wlrat should he be? 
 
 yial. It is myself I mean : in whom I know 
 All the particulars of vice so grafted, 
 I'hat, vvlien they shall be open'd, black Macbeth 
 Wdl seem as pure as snow ; and the poor state 
 Esteem him as a lamb, being compar'd 
 With my contineless harms. 
 
 Macd. Not in the legions 
 
 Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd 
 Iti evils, to top Macbeth. 
 
 Itlal. I grant him bloody. 
 
 Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful. 
 Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin 
 Tliat has a name : But there's no bottom, none, 
 In my voluptuousness : your wives, your daughters, 
 Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up 
 The cistern of my lust ; and my desire 
 Al! continent impediments would o'erbear, 
 l^hat did oppose my will : Better Macbeth, 
 'I'han such a one to reign. 
 
 Macd. Boundless intemperance 
 
 In nature is a tyranny; it hath been 
 The untimely emptying of the happy throne. 
 And (all of many kings. But fear not yet 
 'i'o take upon you what is \ours : you may 
 Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty. 
 And yet seem cold, the time you may so hood-wink. 
 We have willing dames enough ; there cannot be 
 That vulture iu you, to devour so many 
 As will to greatness dedicate themselves. 
 Finding it so incliu'd. 
 
 Mai. With this, there grovys. 
 
 In my most ill-compos"d atfection, such 
 A stanchless avarice, that, were I king, 
 1 should cutoif flie nobles for their lauds; 
 Desire his jewels, and this other's house : 
 And my more-having would be as a sauce 
 To make me himger more ; that 1 should forge 
 Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal. 
 Destroying them for wealth. 
 
 Macd. This avarice 
 
 Sticks deeper; grows with more pernicious root 
 Than siimuier-seeding lust: and it hath been 
 The sword of our slain kings : Yet do not fear ; 
 Scotland hath foysons to till up your will, 
 Of your mere own : All these are portable. 
 With other graces weigh'd. 
 
 Mai. But I have none : The king-becoming graces. 
 As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
 Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
 Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
 I have no relish of them; but abound 
 In the division of each several crime. 
 Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should 
 Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell. 
 Uproar the universal peace, confound 
 Ail unity on earth. 
 
 Macd. O Scotland! Scotland! 
 
 Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak : 
 I am as 1 have spoken. 
 
 Macd. Fit to govern ! 
 
 No, not to live. — O nation miserable. 
 With an imtitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, 
 When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again? 
 Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
 By his own interdiction stands accurs'd. 
 And does blaspheme his breed? — Thy roval father 
 Was a most sainted king ; the queen that'bore thee, 
 Oft'ner upon her knees than on her feet, 
 Died every day she livd. Fare thee well ! 
 These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, 
 Have banish'd me from Scotland.— O, my breast 
 Thy hope ends here ! 
 
 Mai, Macduff, tnis nobie pnactioa 
 
 Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
 Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thotighia 
 To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth 
 By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
 Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks ine 
 From over-credulous haste : But God above 
 Deal between thee and me I for even now 
 I put myself to thy direction, and 
 Unspeak mine own detraction ; here abjure 
 The taints and blames 1 laid upon myself. 
 For strangers to my nature. 1 am yet 
 Unknown to woman; never was forsivorn ; 
 Scarcely have coveted what was mine own; 
 At no time broke my faith ; would not betray 
 Tlie devil to his iellow : and deliglit 
 No less in truth, than life ; niy first false speaking 
 Was this upon myself: What I am truly. 
 Is thine, and my poor country's to conmiand ; 
 Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach. 
 Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men. 
 All ready at a point, was setting forth : 
 Now we'll together; And the chance, of goodness. 
 Be like our warranted quarrel ! VV hy are you silent ? 
 
 Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things a4 
 'Tis hard to reconcile. [once. 
 
 Enter a Doctor. 
 
 Mai. Well ; more anon. — Comes the king forth, 
 1 pray you ? 
 
 Doct. Ay, sir: there are a crew of wretched suuls. 
 That stay his cure : their malady convinces 
 The great assay of art; but, at his touch, 
 Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand. 
 They presently amend. 
 
 Mai. I thank you, doctor, 
 
 [ Exit Doctor. 
 
 Macd. What's the disease he means ? 
 
 Mai. 'Tis call'd the evil : 
 
 A most miraculous work in this good king ; 
 Which often, since my here-reniain in England, 
 I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven. 
 Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people. 
 All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, 
 The mere despair of surgery, he cures; 
 Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, 
 Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken. 
 To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
 The healing benediction. With this strange virtue. 
 He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy; 
 And sundry blessings hang about his throne. 
 That speak him full of grace. 
 
 Enter Rosse. 
 
 Macd. See, who'Comes here? , 
 
 Mai. My countryman ; but yet I know him not. 
 
 Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. 
 
 Mai. I know him now : Good God, betimes re- 
 move 
 The means that make us strangers ! 
 
 Rouse. Sir, Amen. 
 
 Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ? 
 
 Rosse. Alas, poor country ; 
 
 Almost afraid to know itself I It cannot 
 Be call'd our mother, but our grave : where nothing 
 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; 
 Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks, that rent the 
 
 air, 
 Are made, not mark'd ; where v iolent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstacy ; the dead man's knell 
 Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives 
 Expire before the flowers in their caps. 
 Dying, or ere they sicken. 
 
 Macd. O, relation, 
 
 Too nice, and yet too true ! 
 
 Mai. • What is the newest grief? 
 
 i?oi-se.That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker ; 
 Each minute teems a new one. 
 
 Macd. How does my wife? 
 
 Rosse. Why, well. 
 
Act V. 
 
 Scene 1. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 279 
 
 Macd. And all my children ' 
 
 RusxH. Well too. 
 
 Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ? 
 
 liosse. No; they were well at peace, when 1 did 
 leave them. 
 
 Macd. Be not a niggard of vonr speech; How 
 goes it ? [tidings, 
 
 Rosse. When I carae hither to transport the 
 SVl.ifii I have heavily borne, tliere ran a rumour 
 Of many worthy fellows that were out-; 
 Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, 
 Foi that ] saw the tyrant's power a-foot: 
 Now is the time of help ; your eye in Scotland 
 Would create soldiers, make our women fight. 
 To doff their dire distresses. 
 
 Mai. Be it their comfort, 
 
 We are coming thither : gracious England hath 
 Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men; 
 All older, and a better soldier, none 
 That Christendom gives out. 
 
 Rosse. Would I could answer 
 
 This comfort with the like I But I have words. 
 That would be howl'd out in the desert air. 
 Where hearing should not latch them. 
 
 Macd. What concern they ? 
 
 The genera! cause ? or is it a fee-grief, 
 Due to some single breast? 
 
 Rosse. Nomind, that's honest, 
 
 But in it shares some woe; though the main part 
 Pertains to you alone. 
 
 Macd. If it he mine. 
 
 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 
 
 Rosse. ^ Let not your ears despise my tongue for 
 ever, 
 Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, 
 Tlint ever yet they heard. 
 
 Macd. Humph ! I guess at it. 
 
 Rosse. Vour castle is surpris'd ; your wile, and 
 babes, 
 Savagely slanghter'd : to relate the manner. 
 Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer. 
 To add the death of you. 
 
 Mai. Merciful heaven ! — 
 
 What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows : 
 (Jive sorrow words : the grief, that does not speak. 
 Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 
 
 Macd. My diildren too ? 
 
 Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all 
 
 That could be found. 
 
 Macd. And I must be from thence ! 
 
 .My wife kill'dtoo? 
 
 Rosse. I have said. 
 
 Mai. Be comforted : 
 
 Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge. 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 
 Macd. He has no children. — All my pretty ones ? 
 Did you say, all ?— O, hell-kite !— All ? 
 What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam. 
 At one fell swoop? 
 
 Mai. Dispute it like a man. 
 
 Macd. I shall do so ; 
 
 But I must also feel it as a man ; 
 I cannot but remember such things were, [on. 
 
 That were most precious to me.— Did heaven look 
 And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, 
 They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am. 
 Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
 Fell slaughter on their souls: heaven rest them 
 now ! [grief 
 
 Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword : let 
 Convert to auger; blunt not the heart, enrage it 
 
 Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine 
 eyes, [heaven. 
 
 And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle 
 
 Cut short all intermission; front to front, 
 Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; 
 Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape. 
 Heaven forgive him too ! 
 
 Mai. This tnne goes manly. 
 
 Cume, go we to the king ; our power is ready ; 
 
 Our lack is nothing but our leave : Macbeth 
 
 Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
 
 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer yon 
 
 may ; 
 The night is long, that never finds the day. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Dunsinane.. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter a Doctor of Physic, and a waiting Gentle- 
 tcoman. 
 
 Doct. I have two niyhts watched with you, but 
 can perceive no truth in your report. When was it 
 she last walked ? 
 
 Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I 
 have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night- 
 gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, 
 fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, aud 
 again return to bed : yet all this while in a most fast 
 sleep. 
 
 Doct. A great perturbation in nature ! to receive 
 at once the benefit of sleep, and do the efi'i-cts of 
 watching. — In this slumbry agitation, besides her 
 walking, and other actual performances, what, at 
 any time, have you heard her say ? 
 
 Gent. That, sir, which 1 will not report after her. 
 
 Doct. You may, to me ; and 'tis most meet you 
 should. 
 
 Gent. Neither to you, nor any one ; having no 
 witness to confirm my speech. 
 
 Enter Ladij Macbeth, tvith a taper. 
 Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise: 
 and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand 
 
 Doct. How came she by that light ? fclose. 
 
 Gent. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her 
 continually ; 'tis her command. 
 
 Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 
 
 Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 
 
 Doct. What is it she does now ? Look, how she 
 rubs her hands. 
 
 Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to 
 seem thus washing her hands ; I have known her 
 continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Lady M. Yet here's a spot. 
 
 Doct. Hark, she speaks : I will set down what 
 comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the 
 more strongly. 
 
 Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say ! — One; 
 
 Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't: Hell is 
 
 murky! — Fy, my lord, fy! a soldier, and aleard'' 
 What need we fear who knows it, when none can 
 call our power to account? — Yet who would have 
 thought the old man to have had so much blood io 
 
 Doct. Do you mark that ? [him? 
 
 Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; Where 
 
 is she now ? What, will these hands ne'er be 
 
 clean ? — No more o'that, my lord, no more o'that : 
 you mar all with this starting. (should not. 
 
 Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you 
 
 Gent. She has spoke what she should not. I am 
 sure of that : heaven knows what she has known. 
 
 Lady M. Here's the smelJ of the blood still ■ all 
 the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
 hand. Oh 1 oh ! oh I [charged. 
 
 Doct. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely 
 
 Gent. I would not have such a heart in my 
 bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. 
 
 Doct. Well, well, well,— 
 
 Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. 
 
 Doct. This disease is beyond my practice : Yet 
 have known those which have walked in their sleep 
 who have died holily in their beds. 
 
 Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
 gown; look not so pale: — I tell yoii yet again, 
 Banquo's buried ; he cammt come out of his giiive 
 
 Doct. Even so ? 
 
 Lady M. 'I'o bed. to bed; there's knocking at^ 
 the gate. Come, come, come, come, giie me yoaaK|; 
 
280 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 hand ; What's done, cannot be undone : To bed, 
 to l)ed, to heii. [Exit. 
 
 Duct. Will she go now to bed? 
 
 Gent. Diifclly. [deeds 
 
 Dovt. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural 
 Do brfcil unnatural troubles : infected ininds 
 To their deat'iullows will disciiarge their secrets. 
 More needs she the divine, than the physician. — 
 God, (Jod, lorgixe us all ! Look alter lier; 
 Itemove (rom lier the means ol'all annoyance, 
 And still keep eyes upon her: — So, good night: 
 My nmid she has mated, and aniazd my sight: 
 I think, but dare not speak. 
 
 Geiit. Good night, good doctor. 
 
 [Exewit. 
 
 Scene II. — The Country tiear Dunsinane. 
 Enter, with drum and colours, Menteth, Cath- 
 NEss. Angus, Lenox, and Soldiers. 
 Ment. 'I'lie English power is near, led on by 
 Malcolm, 
 His uncle i^iward, and the good Macduff. 
 Revenges burn in tiiem : for their dear causes 
 Would, to the bli-eding, and the grim alarm. 
 Excite the mortified man. 
 • Ang. Near Birnam wood 
 
 Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. 
 Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his 
 
 brother ? 
 Len. For certain, sir, he is not : I have a file 
 Of all the gentry ; there is Siward's son. 
 And many unrough youths, that even now 
 Protest their first of manhood. 
 Ment. What does the tyrant ? 
 
 Cath. Great Dunsinane be strongly fortifies : 
 Some say, he's mad ; others, that lesser hate him. 
 Do call it valiant fury : but, for certain, 
 He cannot buckle his disteraper'd cause 
 Within the belt of rule. 
 
 Amj. Now does he feel 
 
 His secret murders sticking on his bands ; 
 Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith breach ; 
 Those he commands, move only in command. 
 Nothing in love.: now does he feel his title 
 Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe 
 Upon a dwarfish thief. 
 
 Ment. Who then shall blame 
 
 His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, 
 VVhen all that is within him does condemn 
 Itself, for being there? 
 
 Cath. Well, march we on. 
 
 To give obedience where 'tis truly ovv'd : 
 Meet we the medecin of the sickly weal ; 
 And with him pour we, in our country's purge. 
 Each drop of us. 
 
 Len. Or so much as it needs. 
 
 To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds. 
 Make we our march towards Birnam. 
 
 [Exeunt, jnarching. 
 
 Scene III. — Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Macbeth, I>oc<o>-, and Attendants. 
 Macb. Bring me no more re|)(>rts ; let them fly all ; 
 Till Birnam wood renio\e to Dunsinane, 
 1 cannot taint with fear. Wlmt'f- the boy Malcolm ? 
 Was he not born of woman ? Ti)e spirits that know 
 All mortal consequents, pronomic'd me thus: 
 Fenr not, Macbeth; no man, that's born ofivoman. 
 Shall e'er have power on thee. — 'I'hen fly, false 
 And mingle wiih the Eiifilish epicures : [thanes, 
 The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear. 
 Shall never sagg witii doubt, nor shake with fear. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon ! 
 Where got'st thou that goose look ? 
 
 Serv. There is ten thousand 
 
 Macb. Geese, villain? 
 
 Serv. Soldiers, sir. 
 
 nil Macb Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear. 
 
 Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? 
 Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks ol' thine 
 Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, wuey-face ? 
 
 Serv. The English ibrce, so please you. 
 
 Macb. 'lake thy face hence.— Sey ton ! — I am 
 sick at heart, 
 When I behold— Seyton, I say !— This push 
 Will cheer me e\ei, or disseat me now. 
 I have liv'd long enough : my wi^y of life 
 Is I'all'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: 
 And that which should accompany old age. 
 As honour, lo\ e, obedience, troops ol friends, 
 I must not look to have; but, in their stead, 
 Curse.s, not loud, but deep, mouth- honour, breath, 
 Whuh the poor heait would fain deny, birt dare not 
 Seyton I 
 
 Enter Seyton. 
 
 Sey. What is your gracious pleasure ? 
 
 Macb. What news more? 
 
 Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was re- 
 ported. 
 
 Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my (Ifsh be 
 Give me my armour. [hack'd. 
 
 .Sey. 'Tis not needed yet. 
 
 Macb. I'll put it on. 
 Send out more horses, skirr the country round , 
 Hang those that talk, offear.— Gi\e me mine ar- 
 How does your patient, doctor? Imour — 
 
 Doct. Not so sick, my lord. 
 
 As .she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
 Th;it keep her from her rest. 
 
 Macb. Cure her of that: 
 
 Canst thou not minister to a n»ind diseas'd ; 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
 And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
 Cleanse the stufFd bosom of that i)erilous sfnflT, 
 Which weighs upon the heart :? 
 
 Doct. Therein the patient 
 
 Must minister to himself. 
 
 Macb. 'i'hrow physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. — 
 Come, put mine armour on; gi\e me uiv Nlidi :-- 
 Seyton, send out. — Doctor, the thanes lly liom 
 
 me : — 
 Come, sir, despatch : — If thou coiddst, doctor, cast 
 Tlie water of my lan<l, And her disease, 
 And purge it to a sound and pristine liealth, 
 I would applaud thee to the very echo. 
 That should applaud again. — PuJI't olV, I say. — 
 What rhubarb, .senna, or what purgative ilrug. 
 Would scour these English hence ? — Henrest ihon 
 of them ? 
 
 Doct. Ay, my good lord; your royal preparatioij 
 Makes us hear something. 
 
 Macb. Bring it after me. 
 
 I will not be afraid of death and bane. 
 
 Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit. 
 
 Doct. Were I from Dunsinane a\vay and dear. 
 Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — Country near Dunsinane : A Wood 
 in I'iew. 
 
 Enter, with drum and colours, Malcolm, old 
 
 SiWARD and his Son, Macdcjff, Memetii. 
 
 Caibness, Angus, Lenox, Ro&se, a7id Soldiers. 
 
 inarching. 
 
 Mai. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand. 
 That chambers will be safe. 
 
 Ment. We doubt it nulhing. 
 
 Siw. What wood is this before us ' 
 
 Ment. '1''^ wood of Birnam 
 
 Mai. Let every soldier hew him down a ixiugh. 
 And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow 
 The numbers of our host, and make discovery 
 Err in report of us. 
 
 Sold. It shall be done. 
 
 Siw. Wet learn no other, but the confident tyrani, 
 Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 281 
 
 Our setting down before't. 
 
 M(tl. 'Tis liis main hope : 
 
 For whf re tliere is advantage to be given, 
 Both more and less hatit given him the revolt; 
 And none serve witli him, but constrained things, 
 Whose hearts are absent too. 
 
 Macd. Let our just censures 
 
 Attend the true event, and pi\t we on 
 Induslriods soldiership. 
 
 tSiiv. The time approaches, 
 
 That will with dtie decision make us know 
 What we shall stiy we have, and what we owe. 
 Thoughts speculative their unsure hopf s relate ; 
 Bat certain issue strokes must arbitrate: 
 Towards which, ad\auce the war. 
 
 lExewit, inarching. 
 
 Scene V. — Dunsinane. ffithin the Castle. 
 
 Enter, with drums and colours, Macbeth, 
 Sevton, and Soldiers. 
 
 Macb. Hang out our banuersou the outward walls; 
 The cry is still. They come: Our castle's strength 
 Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie. 
 Till famine, and ihe ague, eat them up: 
 Were they not lorc'd with those that should be ours. 
 We might have met thein dareCul, beard to beard. 
 And beat them backward home. What is that 
 noise ? [A cry within, of women.) 
 
 Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. 
 
 Macb. I have almost I'oigot the taste of fears : 
 The time has been, my .senses would have cool'd 
 To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of liair 
 Would at a dismal treatise riuise, and stir 
 As lifip were in't: I liave supp'd full with horrors; 
 Direness, faiiiitiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, 
 Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry? 
 
 Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. 
 
 Macd. She sliould have died hereafter; ' 
 There would have been a time for such a word. — 
 To-morrow, and tomorrow, and to-morrow, 
 Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
 To the last syllable of recorded lime; 
 And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
 The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ' 
 Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. 
 And then is heard no more: it is a tale 
 Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
 Signifying nothing. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Thou ccm'st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly. 
 
 Mess. Gracious my lord, 
 I shall report that which I say I saw, 
 But know not how to do it. 
 
 Macb. Well, say, sir. 
 
 Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
 I lookd toward Birnam, and anon, methought. 
 The wood began to move. 
 
 Macb. Liar, and slave ! 
 
 (Striking him.) 
 
 Mess. Let me endure your wrath, ii^t be not so : 
 Within tliis three mile may you see it coming; 
 I say, a moving grove. 
 
 Macb. If thou speak'st false, 
 
 Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, 
 Till famine cling thee : if thy speech be sooth, 
 I care not if thou dost for me as much. — 
 I pull in resolution ; and begin 
 To doubt the equivocation of the fiend. 
 That lies like truth : Fear not, till Birnam, wood 
 Do come to Dunsinane : — and now a wood 
 Comes toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and out! — 
 If this, which he avouches, does appear, 
 There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. 
 I 'gin to be a- weary of the sun. 
 And wish the estate o the world m ere now undone. — 
 Uing the alarum bell:— Blow, wind! come, wrack I 
 At least we II die vvith harness on our back. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Yl.— The same. A Plain before ihe Castle. 
 
 Enter, with drums and colours, Malcolm, old 
 SiWAKD, Macduff, §-c. and their Army, with 
 
 boughs. 
 
 Mai. Now near enough ; your leavy screens 
 throw down. 
 And show like those you are :— You, worthy uncle. 
 Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son. 
 Lead our fust battle : worthy Macduff, and we. 
 Siiall take upon us what else remains to do. 
 According to our order. 
 
 •^''W- Fare you well. 
 
 Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night. 
 Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight [all breath, 
 
 Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give thera 
 Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. 
 
 [Exeunt. Alarums continued. 
 Scene YU.—The same. Another part of the Plain. 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. They have tied me to a stake ; I cannot fly 
 But, bear-like, I must fight the course.— What's he, 
 1 hat was not born of woman 'I Such a one 
 Am I to fear, or nviie. 
 
 Enter young Siward. 
 Yo. Siw. What is tky name ? 
 
 -^'"4. T,T .L . T''""'''^^^'"'^"' to hear it 
 
 Yo. Siw. No: though thou call'st thyself a hotter 
 Than any IS in hell. {„ame 
 
 Macb. My name's Macbeth. 
 
 Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce 
 More hateful to mine ear. [a jjtle 
 
 v-'^'^o- m ^"' ""■■ '"^'■e fearful. 
 
 Xo. Stw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my 
 I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [sword 
 
 ( They fight, and young Siivard is slain') 
 Macb. Tliou wast born of woman.— 
 
 But svvords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, 
 Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. [Exit. 
 Alarums. Enter Macduff. 
 
 Macd. That way the noise is :— Tyrant, show thy 
 face : 
 If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine. 
 My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me'still. 
 I cannot strike at wretched kernes, whose arms 
 Are hir'd to bear their staves ; either thou, Macbeth 
 Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, ' 
 
 I sheathe again iiiideeded. There thou sho'uldst be • 
 By this great clatter, one of greatest note 
 Seems bruited : Let me find him, fortune ! 
 And more I beg not. [Exit. Alarum. 
 
 Enter Malcolm and old Siward. 
 Siw. This way, my lord ;— the castle's gently ren- 
 
 T 
 
 de 
 
 The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ; [der'd : 
 The noble thanes do bravely in the war; 
 The day almost itself professes yours, 
 And little is to do. 
 
 Mai. We have met with foes 
 
 That strike beside us. 
 
 Sif^- Enter, sir. the castle. 
 
 [Exeunt. Alarums. 
 Re-enter Macbeth. 
 
 Macb. 'VVhy should I play the Roman fool, aad 
 die 
 On mine own sword ? whiles I see lives, the gaslie* 
 Do better upon them. 
 
 Re enter Macduff. 
 
 Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn. 
 
 Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee . 
 But get thee back, my soul is too much charg'd 
 W th blood of thine already. 
 
 Macd. I have no words. 
 
 My voice is in my sword ; thou bloodier villain 
 Than terms can give thee out ! {They fight.) 
 
 Macb. Thou losest laoour : 
 
282 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 An easy may'st thoa tlie intrenchant air 
 
 With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: 
 
 Let tall thy blade on vulnerable crests ; 
 
 I bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
 
 To one of woman born. 
 
 Macd. Despair thy charm ; 
 
 And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd. 
 Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb 
 Untimely ripp'd. 
 
 Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so^ 
 For it hath cow'd my better part ol'nian ! 
 And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, 
 That palti-r with us in a double sense ; 
 That keep the word of promise to our ear, 
 And break it to our hope. — I'll not fight with thee. 
 
 Mricd. Then yield thee, coward. 
 And li»e to be the show and gaze o'the lime. 
 We'll have tliee, as our rarer monsters are, 
 I'ainted upon a pole ; and underwrit. 
 Here may you see the tyrant. 
 
 Macb. I'll not yield. 
 
 To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, 
 And to be baited with the rabble's curse. 
 Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
 And thou oppos'd, being of no woman horn, 
 Vet I will try the last: Before my body 
 I throw my warlike shield : lay on, Macduff; 
 •4nd damn'd be him that first cries. Hold, enough. 
 
 [Exeunt, fighting. 
 
 Retreat. Flourish. Re enter, with drum and 
 co/ot</-«, Malcolm, oWSiward, Rosse. Lenox, 
 Angus, Cathness, Menteth, and Soldiers. 
 
 Mai. I would, the friends we miss were safe 
 arriv'd. 
 
 Siw. Some nuist go off: and yet, by these I see. 
 So great a day as this is cheaply bought. 
 
 Mai. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. 
 
 Rosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's 
 He only liv'd but till he was a man ; [debt: 
 
 The « hii'h no sooner had his prowess confirm'd 
 En the unshrinking station where he fought, 
 But like a man he died. 
 
 iltw. Then lie is dead'? 
 
 Roste. Ay, and brought ofi' the field : yonr caum 
 of sorrow 
 Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then 
 It hath uo end. 
 
 Siw. Had he his hurts before ? 
 
 Rosse. Ay, on the front. 
 
 Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he 
 
 Had I as many sons as I have hairs, 
 I would not wish them to a fairer death : 
 And so his knell is knoH'd. 
 
 Mai. He's worth more sorrow 
 
 And that I'll spend for him. 
 
 Siw. He's worth no more 
 
 They say, he parted well, and paid his score : 
 So, God be with him ! — Here comes newer comfort 
 
 Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth' s head on a pole. 
 
 Macd. Hail, king! forso thou art : Behold, where 
 stands 
 The usurper's cursed head : the time is free : 
 I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl. 
 That speak my salutation in their minds ; 
 Whose voices I desire aloud with mine, — 
 Hail, king of Scotland ! 
 
 All. King of Scotland, hail I 
 
 [Flourish. 
 
 Mai. We shall not spend a large expense of time. 
 Before we reckon with your several loves, [men. 
 And make ns even with you. My thanes and kins- 
 Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland 
 In such an honour nam'd. What's more to do, 
 Which would be planted newly with the time, — 
 As calling home our esil'd friends abroad, 
 That fled the snares of watchful tyranny ; 
 Producing forth the cruel ministers 
 Of this dead butcher, and his fiend like queen ; 
 Who, as 'tis tliought, by self and violent hands 
 Took on her life ; — This, and what needtul elss 
 That calls npon us, by the grace of Grace, 
 We will perform in measure, time, and place : 
 So thanks to all at once, and to each one. 
 Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. 
 
 [Flourish. ExeuKi. 
 
KING JOHN. 
 
 The trWfdT of K'^S John, (limigh not written with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied with a very pleasiDR 
 iDtercnaiiiie of incideuts ana characters. The lady's grief is very aJt'cciing ^ and the character of the Bastard coQtaiuj 
 iUat mUture of greatness and levity, which this author delighted to e^Lbibit. Jonnson. 
 
 PEItSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KING /OFW. 
 
 f'KtNCK HENRY, fih Son; nfterivarch K'inq Henry III. 
 ARTHUR, Duke of Bretagne. Son uj Geffrey, tale Duke 
 
 uj Brrlitrine, the elder Brother of King John. 
 WlLLiAM aiARESHALL, Eart uj Pembroke. 
 UEt'FRIiY FITZ PETEK, Earl tf Essex, CAiefJuslici- 
 
 ary of England. 
 WILLIAM LONGSVVORD, Earl of Salisbury. 
 KOUERT niGOT, Earl of Norjolk. 
 HUBERT 1)E BURUH, Chamberlain to the King. 
 ROBEHT FAULCONBRIDGE, Son of Sir Robert Faul- 
 
 coJtbridge. 
 PHlLll' FAULCONBRIDGE, his Half brother, bastard 
 
 Son to King Richard the First. 
 JAMES GURNEY, Servant to Lady Faukonbridge. 
 PETER of Pomfret, a Prophet. 
 
 PHILIP, King of France. 
 
 LEWIS, the Dauphin. 
 
 ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 CARDINAL PANDULPH, the Pope's Legate. 
 
 MELUN, a French Lord. „. , ^ 
 
 CHATILLON, Ambassador from France to King John. 
 
 ELINOR, the Widotn of King Henry II, and Mother 
 
 of King John. 
 CONSTANCE, Mother to Arthur. ,„ ., 
 
 ULANCH, Daughter to Alphonso, King of Castile, anil 
 
 Niece to 'King John 
 LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, Mother to the Bastard and 
 
 Robert Fautconbridge. 
 Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Anglers, Sheriff, Heralds, 
 OJ/icers, Soldiers, Messengers, and.other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Sometimes in England, and sometimes in France. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene i. — Northampton. A Rootn of Slate in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter King John, Queen ELIN9R, Pembroke, 
 Essex, Salisbury, and others, with Chatillon. 
 
 King John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would 
 France \vM\\ us ? 
 
 Chat. Thus, alter greeting, speaks the king of 
 France, 
 In my behaviour, to the majesty, 
 The horrow'd majesty of England here. 
 
 Eli. A strange beginning; — borrow'd majesty! 
 
 K.John. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. 
 
 Chat. Philip of Fiance, in right and true behalf 
 Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, 
 Arthnr Plantagenet, lays most lawfid claim 
 To this fair island, and the territories ; 
 To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjon, Touraine, Maine : 
 Desiring Uiee to lay aside the sword, 
 VVhicl) sways usnrpingly these several titles; 
 And put the same into young Arthur's hand, 
 Thv nephew, and right royal sovereign. 
 
 K. John. What follows, if we disallow of this ? 
 
 Chat. The proud control of fierce and bloody war. 
 To enforce these rights, so i'orcibly withheld. 
 
 K. John. Here have we war ibr war, and blood 
 for blood, 
 Controlment for controlinent : so answer France. 
 
 Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my 
 'I'he furthest limit of my embassy. [mouth, 
 
 K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in 
 peace : 
 Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ; 
 For ere thou canst report I will be there. 
 The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: 
 So, hence ! Be thou the trum|)et of our wrath, 
 And sullen presage of your own decay. — 
 An honourable conduct let him have : 
 Pembroke, look tot : Farewell, Chatillon. 
 
 [Exeunt Chatillon and Pembroke. 
 
 Eli. What now, ray son ? have I not ever said 
 How that ambitious Constance would not cease, 
 Till she had kindled France, and all the world. 
 Upon the right and party of her son ? 
 This might have been prevented, and made whole. 
 With very easy arguments of love ; 
 Which now the manage of two kingdoms must 
 With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. [for lis. 
 
 K. John. Our strong possession, and our right, 
 
 Eli. Your strong possession, mucli more Inan 
 your right ; 
 Or else it must go wrong with you, and me : 
 
 S> much my conscience whispers in yonr ear ; 
 Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear. 
 Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, who 
 whispers Essex. 
 
 Essex. IVIy liege, here is the strangest controversy. 
 Come from tiie country to be jiidg'd by you. 
 That e'er Iheard: shall I produce the men? 
 
 A'. John. Let them approach. — [Exit Sheriff. 
 Our abbies, and our priories, shall pay 
 Re enter Sheriff, with Robert Faulconbridgk, 
 
 a7id Philip, his bastard Brother. 
 Tiiis expedition's charge.— What men are you? 
 
 Bast. Vour faithful subject I, a gentleman. 
 Born in Northamptonshire : and eldest .son. 
 As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge ; 
 A soldier, by the honour-giving hand 
 Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. 
 
 K. John. What art thou ? [bridge. 
 
 Rob. The sou and heir to that same Faulcon- 
 
 K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? 
 You came not of one mother then, it seems. 
 
 Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king. 
 That is well known ; and, as I think, one father : 
 But, for the certain knowledge of that truth, 
 I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother : 
 Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. 
 
 Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame 
 thy mother, 
 And wound her honour with this diffidence. 
 
 Bast. I, madam? no, I have no reason for it; 
 That is my brother's plea, and none of mine ; 
 The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out 
 At least from fair five hundred pounds a-year : 
 Heaven guard my mother's honour, and my land i 
 
 K. John. A good blunt fellow :— Why, being 
 younger born. 
 Doth lie lay claim to thine inheritance i 
 
 Bast. I know not why, except to get the land. 
 But once he slander'd me with bastiirdy : 
 But whe'r I be as true begot, or no, 
 That still I lay upon my mother's head; 
 But that I am as well begot, my liege, 
 (Fair fall the bones that took the pains for mel) 
 Compare our faces, and be judge yourself. 
 If old sir Robert did beget us both, 
 And were our father, and this son like him; — 
 
 old sir Robert, father, on my knee 
 
 1 give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee. 
 
 K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent 
 
 us here ! 
 Eli. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion "s face. 
 The accent of his tongue allecleta hini : 
 
284 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act I 
 
 Do you not read some tokens of my son 
 In the large composition of this man ? 
 
 K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, 
 
 And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak. 
 
 What doth move you to claim your hrotlier's land ? 
 
 Bast. Because he hath a half-lace, lite my father; 
 With that half-face would he have all my land : 
 A half-fac'd groat five hundred poimds a-year! 
 
 Rob. My gracious liege, when that ray father liv'd, 
 Voiir brother did employ my father much ;^ 
 
 Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land ; 
 Your tale must be, how he employed my mother. 
 
 Mob. And otice despatch'd him in an embassy 
 To Germany, there, with the emperor. 
 To treat of high affairs touching that time : 
 The advantage of his absence took the king. 
 And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's; 
 Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak : 
 But truth is truth; large lengths of seas and shores 
 Between my father and my mother lay, 
 (As I have lieard my father speak himself,) 
 When this same lusty gentleman was got. 
 Upon his death-bed he by will be(,ueath'd 
 His lands to me ; and took it, on his deuth. 
 That this, my mother's son, was none of his ; 
 And, if lie were, he came into the world 
 Fullfouiteen weeks before the course of time. 
 Theti, good ray liege, let me have what is mine, 
 My father's land, as was my father's will. 
 
 K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; 
 Your fatlier's wife did alter wedlock bear him: 
 And, if she did play false, tlie lault was hers; 
 Wliicli fault lies on the hazards of all husbands, 
 'J'hat marry wives. Tell me, liow if my brother. 
 Who, as you say, took pains to get tliis son. 
 Had of your lather claim'd this son for his / 
 I.'i sootli, good li-iend, your father mijiht have kept 
 Tliis call, brf d from his cow, from all the world ; 
 III sootii, he iiiiglit: then, if he were my brother's. 
 My brotlier might not claim him ; nor your father, 
 lieiiig ii'iiie of ins, refuse him: Tiiis concludes, — 
 My iiiotlier's son did get your father's heir; 
 \ iiiir f.ither's lieir must liave your father's land. 
 
 Rub. Snail (lien my father's will be of no force. 
 To (lisjidssfss tiiat cliild, which is not his? 
 
 Uast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, 
 Tliaii was iii-i will to get me, as 1 think. [bridge. 
 
 Ell. Wiietlier hadst tiiou rather, — be a Faulcon- 
 Aiid like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ; 
 Or the reputed son of Coein-de-lion, 
 Lord of tliy presence, and no land beside ? 
 
 Bust. Madam, an if my brother had my shape. 
 And I iiad his, sir Robert his, like him : 
 And it my legs were two such riding-rods, 
 My arms such lel-skins stuff d ; my face so thin, 
 'I'liat ill mine ear 1 durst not stick a rose, [goes, 
 Lest men slioiild say, Look, where three-farthings 
 And, to liis shape, were heir to all this land, 
 'Woiilil I might never stir from off this place, 
 I'd give it every f'o'it to have this face ; 
 I would not be sir Nob in any case. [fortune, 
 
 Eli. I like thee well ; Wilt thou forsake thy 
 Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me i 
 I am a soldier, and now bound ti> France. 
 
 Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my 
 cl) nice : 
 V our face iiatli got five hundred pounds a year; 
 Yet sell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear. — 
 Madaui, I'll follow you unto the death. 
 
 Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. 
 
 Bust. Oar country manners give our betters way. 
 
 K. John. What is thy name ? 
 
 Bast. I'liilip, my liege; so is my name begun; 
 Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son. 
 
 K. John. Prom henceforth bear his name whose 
 form tliou bear'st : 
 Kneel thrm down Philip, but arise more great; 
 Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet. [hand ; 
 
 Ba^t. Brother, by the mother's side, give me your 
 My t'alher gave me lumour. yours ga.fe land : — 
 
 Now blessed be the hour, by night or day. 
 When I was got, sir Robert was away. 
 
 Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet! — 
 I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so. 
 
 Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth : 
 What though ? 
 Something about, a little from the right, 
 
 In at the window, or else o'er the lialch: 
 Who dares not stir by day, must walk by night; 
 
 And have is have, however men do catch ; 
 Near or far off, well won is still well shot ; 
 And I am I, howe'er I was begot. [desire, 
 
 K. John. Go, Fanlconbridge ; now hast thou thy 
 A landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire. — 
 Come, madam, and come, Richard ; we must speed 
 For France, for France ; for it is more than need. 
 
 Bast. Brother, adieu ; Good fortune come to thee ! 
 For thou wast got i'the way of honesty. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Bastard. 
 A foot of honour better than I was ; 
 But many a many loot of land tiie wor.se. 
 
 Well, now can I make any Joan a lady : 
 
 Good den, sir Richard, — God-a-mercy, fellow; — 
 And if his name be George, I'll call bim Peter: 
 For new-made honour doth forget men's names ; 
 'Tis too respective, and too sociable, 
 For your conversion. Now your traveller, — 
 He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess ; 
 And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd. 
 Why tlien I suck my teeth, and cateciiise 
 
 My picked man of countries : My dear sir, 
 
 ( Tims, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,) 
 / shall beseech you — That is question now ; 
 And, then conies answer like an ABC-book : — 
 0, sir, says answer, at your best command ; 
 
 At your employment ; at your service, sir : • 
 
 No. sir, says question, 1, sweet sir, at yuurs : 
 
 And so, ere answer knows what question would, 
 
 (Sai iiig in dialogue of compliment ; 
 
 And faikiiig of the Alps, and Aj.peniiies, 
 
 The Pyrene<in, and the river Po,) 
 
 It draws toward supper in conclusion so. 
 
 But this is worshipfid society. 
 
 And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: 
 
 For he is but a bastard to the time. 
 
 That doth not smack of observation ; 
 
 (And so am I, whether 1 smack, or no; ) ( 
 
 And not alone in habit and device, 
 
 Exterior form, outward accoutrement ; , 
 
 But from the inward motion to deliver 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet poison f >r tlie a,;e's tooth : 
 
 Which, though I will not practise to deceive. 
 
 Vet, to avoid deceit, I nieiin to learn ; 
 
 For it shall strew the footsteps of iiiy rising. — 
 
 But who comes in such haste, in riding robes ? 
 
 Wliat woman-post is this .'' hath she no husband, 
 
 Tliat will take pains to blow a liorii before her i 
 
 Enter Lady Faulconbridge, and James Gckn-ey. 
 O me ! it is my mother : — How now, good 
 
 ly? ( 
 
 .idy'? 
 is he? 
 here 
 
 What brings you here to court so hastily . 
 
 Lady F. Where is that slav e, thy brother ? w 
 Tiiat holds in chase mine honour up and down? 
 
 Bast. My brother Robert? old sir Robert's son? 
 Colbiand the giant, that same mighty inan i 
 Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so ^ [boy, 
 
 Lady F. Sir Robert's son ! Ay, thou unrevereiid 
 Sir Itobert's son : Why scorii'st thou at sir Robert? 
 He is sir R(jbert's son ; and so art thou ? [while ? 
 
 Bast. James Guriiey, wilt thou give us leave a 
 
 Our. Good leave, good Philip. 
 
 Bast. Philip :' — sparrow I — Juuies 
 
 There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell tiiee inure. 
 
 [E.vit Gurney, 
 Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son ; 
 Sir Robert might have eat his part in me 
 Upon Good-fridav., and ne'er broke his fast : 
 Sir Robert could do well ; Many, (to confess !) 
 Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it j ■ 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 285 
 
 We know bis handy-work : — Therefore, good mo- 
 ther. 
 To whom am I beholden for tiiese limbs ? 
 Sir Robert never liolp to make this leg. 
 
 Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, 
 That for thine own gain shouidst defend mine ho- 
 
 liour? 
 What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave ? 
 
 Bast. Knight, knight, good mother Basilisco- 
 like: 
 What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder. 
 But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son ; 
 I have disclaim'd sir Robert, and my hind ; 
 Legitimation, name, and ail is gone : 
 'I'lien, good my mother, let me know my father; 
 Some proper man, I hope : Who was it, mother? 
 
 Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon- 
 bridge i 
 
 Bast. As faithfully as I deny (he devil. [ther; 
 
 Lady F. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy fa- 
 By long and vehement suit I was sedtic'd 
 
 To make room for him in my husband's bed: 
 
 Hea\en lay not my transgression to my charge ! — 
 
 Thou art the issue of my dear otfence. 
 
 Which was so strongly urg'd, past my defence. 
 
 Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again. 
 Madam, I would not wisli a belter father. 
 Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, 
 And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly : 
 Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, — 
 Subjected tribute to commanding love, — 
 Against whose fury and unmatched force 
 The awless lion could not wage the fight. 
 Nor keep his princely heart from Ricliard's hand. 
 He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts. 
 May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother. 
 With all my heart I thank thee for my father ! 
 Who lives and dares but say, tiiou didst not well 
 When I was got, I'll send his soul to liell. 
 Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin ; 
 
 And they shall say, when Riciiard me begot. 
 If thou liadst said him nay, it had been sin: 
 
 Wlio says it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — France. Before the TValls of Anglers. 
 
 Enter, on one side, the Archduke of Austria, 
 and Forces; on the other, Philip, King of 
 France, arid Forces ; Lewis, Constance, Ar. 
 THUR, and Attendants. 
 
 Letv. Before Anglers well met, brave Austria. — 
 Artliur, tliat great f(»re-runner of thy blood, 
 Riciiard, that robb'd the lion of his heart. 
 And fought the holy wars in Palestine, 
 By this iirave duke came early to his grave : 
 And, for amends to his posterity, 
 At our importance, hither is he come. 
 To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; 
 And to rebuke the usurpation 
 Of thy unnatural uncle, English John : 
 falinhrace him, love him, give him welcome hitner. 
 
 Arth. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death, 
 The rather, tiiat you give his offspring life. 
 Shadowing their right under your wings of war : 
 I giie you welcome with a powerless hand. 
 But with a heart full of unstained love : 
 Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. 
 
 Lew. A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ? 
 
 Aiist. Upon thy cheek lay 1 this zealous kiss, 
 As seal to this indenture of my love; 
 That to my home I will no more return. 
 Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, 
 Togetiier with that pale, tliat white-fac'd shore. 
 Whose loot S|)uriis back the ocean's roaring tides. 
 And coops iVom other lands her islanders, 
 E\en tiii that England, hedg'd in with the main. 
 That water walled bulwark, still secure 
 And contident from foreign purposes. 
 
 Even till that utmost corner of the west 
 Salute thee for her king: till then, fair ooy. 
 Will I not think of home, but follow arms. 
 
 Const. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's 
 thanks. 
 Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength, 
 To make a more requital to your love. [swords 
 
 Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their 
 In such a just and charitable war. [be bent 
 
 K. Phi. Well then, to work; our cannon shall 
 
 Against the brows of this resisting town. 
 
 Cail for our thiefest men of discipline. 
 To cull the plots of best advantages : 
 We'll lay before this town our royal bones. 
 Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood. 
 But we will make it subject to this boy. 
 
 Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy. 
 Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood: 
 My lord Chatillon may from England bring 
 That right in peace, which here we urge in war; 
 And then we shall repent each drop of blood. 
 That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. 
 
 Enter Chatillon. 
 
 K. Phi. A wonder, lady ! — lo, upon thy wish, 
 Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd. — 
 VV^hat England says, say briefly, gentle lord. 
 We coldly j(ause for thee ; Chatillon, speak. 
 
 Chat. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege, 
 And stir f+iem up against a mightier task. 
 England, impatient of your just demands. 
 Hath put himself in arms ; the adverse winds, 
 Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time 
 To land his legions all as soon as 1 : 
 His marches are expedient to this town, 
 His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
 VVith him is come along the mother-queen. 
 An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife ; 
 With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; 
 With them a bastard of the king deceas'd : 
 And all the unsettled humours of the land, — 
 Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries. 
 With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, — 
 Have sold tlieir fortunes at their native homes. 
 Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
 To make a hazard of new jbrtunes here. 
 In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits. 
 Than now the English bottoms ha\e waft o'er. 
 Did never float upon the swelling tide. 
 To do offence and scath in Christendom. 
 The interruption of their churlish drums 
 
 (Drums beat.) 
 Cuts off more circumstance : they ane at hand. 
 To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare. [tion ! 
 
 K. Phi. How much nnlook'd for is tiiis expedi- 
 
 Aust. By how much unexpected, by so much 
 We must awake endeavour for defence; 
 For courage moiintelh with occasion : 
 Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd. 
 
 Enter King John, Ei-inor, Blanch, the Bastard, 
 Pembroke, and Forces. 
 
 K. John. Peace be to France ; if France in peace 
 permit 
 Our just and lin?al entrance to our own ! 
 If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven! 
 Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct 
 Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven. 
 
 K. Phi. Peace be to England ; if th;jt war return 
 From France to England, there to live in peace! 
 England we love ; and, for that England's sake. 
 With burden of our armour here we sweat : 
 This toil of ours should be a work of thine; 
 But thou from loving England art so fiir. 
 That thou hast under wrought his lawful king. 
 Cut off the sequence of posterity. 
 Outfaced infant state, and done a rape 
 Upon the maiden virtue ol' the crown. 
 Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face , — 
 These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of bis; 
 
286 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 This liUle abstract doth contain that large, 
 \A liich died in Gellrey ; and the hand of time 
 Siiall draw this brief into as huge a volume. 
 'J'liat Gellrey was tliy elder brotlier !)orn, 
 And this his son ; England was GertVey's right, 
 A.nd this is Geffrey's : In the name of God, 
 How comes it then, that thou art called a king, 
 When living blood doth in these temples beat. 
 Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest ? 
 
 K. John. From whom hast thou this great com- 
 mission, France, 
 To draw my answer from tiiy articles? 
 
 K. PAL From that supernal judge, that stirs good 
 thoughts 
 In any breast of strong authority. 
 To look into the blots and stains of right. 
 That judge hath made me guardian to this boy : 
 Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong; 
 And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it. 
 
 K. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority. 
 
 K. Phi. Excuse : it is to beat usurping down. 
 
 Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France ? 
 
 Const. Let me make answer; — thy usurping son. 
 
 Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king; 
 That thou liiay'st be a queen, and check the world ! 
 
 Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true. 
 As thine was to thy husband : and this boy 
 Liker in feature to his father Geffrejr, 
 Tlian thou and John in manners ; being as like, 
 As rain to water, or devil to his dam. 
 Rly boy a bastard ! By my soul, I think. 
 His father never was so true begot; 
 It cannot be, an' if thou wert his mother. 
 
 Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy 
 father. 
 
 Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would 
 
 Aust. Peace I [blot thee. 
 
 Bast. Hear the crier. 
 
 Ansl. What the devil art thou ? 
 
 Bast. One, that will play the devil, sir, with you. 
 An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. 
 You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
 Wliose valour plucks dead lions by the beard ; 
 I'll w.-noke your skin-coat, an I catch you right ; 
 Sirrah, look to't; i'faith, I will, i'faith. 
 
 Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe. 
 That did disrobe the lion of that robe ! 
 
 Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him, 
 As great Alcide-s' shoes upon an ass : — 
 But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back ; 
 Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. 
 
 Aust. What cracker is this same, that deafs our 
 With this abundance of superfluous breath? (ears 
 
 K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do 
 straight [ence. 
 
 Levj. Women and fools, break off your confer- 
 King John, this is the very sum of all, — 
 England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, 
 In right of Arthur do I claim of thee : 
 Wilt thou resign (hem, and lay down thy arms? 
 
 K. John. My life as soon : — I do del'y thee. France. 
 Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ; 
 And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more 
 Than e'er the coward hand of France can win ; 
 Submit thee, boy. 
 
 Eli. Come to thy grandam, child. 
 
 Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child ; 
 Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will 
 Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig : 
 There's a good grandam. 
 
 Arth. Good my mother, peace! 
 
 I would, that I were low laid in my grave ; 
 I am not worth this coil that's made for me. 
 
 Ell. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. 
 
 Const. Now siiame upon you, whe'r she does, or no ! 
 His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames. 
 Draw thoje heaven-moving pearls from his pooreyes, 
 Wliich heaven shall take in nature of a fee ; 
 Ay, with these crystal beads heav'n shall be br b'd 
 To do him justice, and revenge on yoii. 
 
 Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and 
 earth ! [earth ! 
 
 Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and 
 Call not me slanderer; tliou, and thine, usurp 
 The dominations, royalties, and rights, 
 Of this oppressed boy : This is thy eldest son's sod, 
 Infortunate in nothing but in thee ; 
 Thy sins are visited in (his poor child ; 
 The canon of the law is laid on him. 
 Being but the second generation 
 Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. 
 
 K. John. Bedlam, have done. 
 
 Const. I have but this to say, — 
 
 That he's not only plagued for her sin, 
 But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
 On this removed issue, plagu'd for her. 
 And with her plague, her sin; his injury 
 Her injury, — the beadle to her sin; 
 All punish'd in the person of this child. 
 And all for her; A plague upon her! 
 
 Eli. Thou unadvised scold, 1 can produce 
 A will, that bars the title of thy son. 
 
 Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will ! a wicked will ; 
 A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will ! 
 
 K. Phi. Peace, lady ; pause, or be more temperate : 
 It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim 
 To these ill-tuned repetitions. — 
 Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
 These men of Anglers ; let us hear them speak. 
 Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the tvalls. 
 
 1 at. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls ? 
 
 K. Phi. 'Tis France, for England. 
 
 K. John. England, for itself; 
 
 You men of Anglers, and my loving subjects, — 
 
 K. Phi. You loving men of Anglers, Artiiur's 
 subjects. 
 Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle. 
 
 K. John. For our advantage : — Tlierefore, hear 
 
 us, first. 
 
 These flags of France, that are advanced here 
 
 Before tiie eye and prospect of your town, 
 
 Have hither march'd to your endamagement : 
 
 The cannons have their bowels full ol wrath; 
 
 And ready mounted are they, to spit forth 
 
 Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls : 
 
 All preparations for a bloody siege, 
 
 Andf merciless proceeding by these French, 
 
 Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates ; 
 
 And, but for our approach, these sleeping stones. 
 
 That as a waist do girdle you about. 
 
 By the compulsion of their ordnance 
 
 By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
 
 Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
 
 For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 
 
 But, on the sight of us, your lawful king, — 
 
 Who painfully, with much expedient march, 
 
 Have brought a countercheck before your gates. 
 
 To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks,— 
 
 Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle : 
 
 And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in tire, 
 
 To make a shaking fever in your walls, 
 
 They shoot but calm words, folded up in smok , 
 
 To make a faithless error in your ears : 
 
 Which trust accordingly, kind citizens. 
 
 And let us in, your king; who.se labour'd spirits, 
 
 Forwearied in this action of swift speed, 
 
 Crave harbourage within your city walls. 
 
 A'. Philip. When I have said, make answer to 
 Hs both. 
 Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
 Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
 Of him it holds, stands young Plantageuet; 
 Son to the elder brother of this man. 
 And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys : 
 F'or this down-trodden equity, we tread 
 In warlike march these greens before yonr town; 
 Being no further enemy to you, 
 Tlian the constraint ot hospitable zeal. 
 In the reli«f of this oppressed child. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 287 
 
 Ueligioiisly provokes. Be pleased, then, 
 To pay that duty, which yoii truly owe, 
 To him that owes it; namely, this young prince: 
 And tiiei) our arms, like to a muzzled hear, 
 .Sa\e in aspect, have all otfence seal'd up; 
 Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent 
 Against (he invulnerable clouds of heaven ; 
 And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire, 
 With unhack'd swords, and iielmets all uubruis'd. 
 We will bear home that lusty blood again, 
 Which here we came to spout against your town. 
 And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace. 
 But if you fondly pass our profter'd otl'er, 
 Tis not the roundure of your old-f'ac'd walls 
 Can hide you IVom our messengers of war ; 
 Though all these English, and their discipline, 
 Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. 
 Then, tell us, shall your city call ns lord, 
 lu that behalf which we have challeng'd it? 
 Or shall we give the signal to our rage, 
 \nA stalk in blood lo our possession ^ 
 
 1 Cii. In brief, we are the king of England's 
 subjects ; 
 For him, and in his right, we hold this town. 
 
 K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let uie 
 in. (king, 
 
 I Cit. That can we not : but he, that proves the 
 i'i» him will we prove loyal : till that time. 
 Have we ramra'd up our gates against tlie world. 
 
 K. John. Doth not the crown of lingland prove 
 the king? 
 \nd, if not that, I bring you witnesses. 
 Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed, — 
 
 Bast. Bastards, and else. 
 
 K. John. To verify our title with their lives. 
 
 K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as 
 
 Bast. Some bastards too. [those, 
 
 K. Phi. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim. 
 
 1 Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest. 
 We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both. 
 
 K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those 
 That to their everlasting residence, [souls, 
 
 l)t fore the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, 
 111 dreadful trial of our kingdom's king ! 
 
 K. Phi. Amen, Amen! — Mount, chevaliers! to 
 arms ! [e'er since, 
 
 Bast. St. George, — that swing'd the dragon, and 
 Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door. 
 Teach u8 some fence ! — Sirrah, were I at home, 
 At your den, sirrah, [to Austria) with your lioness, 
 I'd set an ox-head to your lion's bide, 
 And make a monster of you. 
 
 Aust. Peace ; no more. 
 
 Bast. O, tremble ; for you hear the lion roar. 
 
 K. John. Up higher to the plain ; where we'll set 
 
 liest appointment, all our regiments. [forth, 
 
 Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the field. 
 
 K. Phi. It shall be so ; — [to Lewis) and at the 
 other lull 
 Command the rest to stand. God, and our right ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene II.— T^e same. 
 
 Alarums and Excursions ; then a Retreat. Enter 
 a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates. 
 F. Her. You menof Anglers, open wide yourgatef, 
 And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 
 Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 
 ■Vluch work for tears in many an English mother, 
 Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding t'vound 
 any a widow's husband groveling lie?, 
 Idly embracing the discolour'd earth; 
 nd victory, with little loss, doth play 
 uon the danc;ing banners of the French.* 
 ho are at hand, triumphantly display'^, 
 enter conquerors, and to proclaim 
 rthur of Bretagne, England's king, andyo,.>. 
 Enter an English Herald, with trumpets. 
 E, Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your 
 belis; 
 
 King John, your king and England's, doth approach. 
 Commander of this hot malicious day ! 
 Their armours, that march'd hence so silver bri'ht. 
 Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; " 
 There stuck no plume in any English crest, 
 That is removed by a stalf of France ; 
 Our colours do return in those same hands. 
 That did display them when first march'd forth; 
 And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
 Our lusty English, all with purpled hands. 
 Died m the dying slaughter of their foes : 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way. 
 
 Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, 
 From first to last, the onset and retire 
 Of both your armies ; whose equality 
 By our best eyes cannot be censured : 
 Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd 
 "'^'ws ; [fronted power : 
 
 Strengtii tuatch'd with strength, and power con- 
 Both are alike ; and both alike we like. 
 One must prove greatest : while they weigh so even. 
 We hold our town for neither; yet for both. 
 
 Enter, at one side. King John, ivith his poiver; 
 
 EuNOR, Blanch, and the Bastard; at the other, 
 
 KingPmup, Lewis, Austria, and Forces. 
 
 K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to 
 cast away '! 
 Siy, shall the current of our right rnn on? 
 Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, 
 Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-svvel' 
 With course disturb'd even thy confining shores; 
 Unless thou let his silver water keep 
 A peaceful -progress to the ocean. [of blood, 
 
 K.Phi. iingland, thou hast not sav'd one drop 
 In this hot tiial, more than we of France; 
 Rather, lost more : And by this hand I swear, 
 'i'hat sways the earth this climate overlooks, — 
 Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, 
 We'll put thee dov/n, 'gainst whom these arms we 
 Or add a royal number to the dead .' [bear, 
 
 Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war'u loss, 
 With slaughter coupled to the name ot kings. 
 
 Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers. 
 When the rich lilood of kings is set on fire ! 
 O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel , 
 The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs ; 
 Atid now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, 
 In undeterinin'd ditt'erences of kings. — 
 Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? 
 Cry havoc, kings ! back to the stained field. 
 You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits ! 
 Then let confusion of one part confiim 
 The other's peace ; till then, blows, blood, and 
 death I [mit ? 
 
 K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yetad- 
 
 K. P/<j. Speak, citizens, for England ; who's your 
 king? [king. 
 
 \ Cit. The king of England, when we know the 
 
 K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up hi-s 
 right. 
 
 K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy 
 And bear possession of our person here ; 
 Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. 
 
 1 Cit. A greater power than we, denies all this , 
 And, till it be undoubted, we do lock 
 Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; 
 King'd of our fears; until our fears, resolv'd. 
 Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. 
 
 Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers float 
 you, kings ; 
 And stand securely on their battlements. 
 As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
 At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
 Your royal presences be rul'd by me ; 
 Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, 
 Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend 
 Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town-. 
 By east and west let France and England mount 
 'i'heir battering cannon, charged to the moutiw; 
 
288 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Till their soi-.l-fearing clamours have brawl'd down 
 
 The flinty ribs of this conteuiptiious city : 
 
 I'd play incessantly upon these jades, 
 
 Even till unfenced desolation 
 
 Leave them as naked as tlie vulgar air. 
 
 'i'hatdone, dissever your united strengths 
 
 And part your mingled colours once again ; 
 
 Tuni face to face, and bloody point to point: 
 
 Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth 
 
 Out of one side her happy minion ; 
 
 To whom in i'avour she shall give the day. 
 
 And kiss him with a glorious victory. 
 
 How like yen this wild counsel, mighty states ? 
 
 Siri^icks it not something of the policy ? [heads, 
 
 K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our 
 I like it well ; — France, shall we knit our powers. 
 And lay this Angiers even w|th the ground; 
 'Ihen, after, fight who shall be king of it? 
 
 Bast. And, if thou hast the mettle of a king, — 
 Being wrongM, as we are, by this peevish town, — 
 'Jurn thou tiie mouth of thy artillery. 
 As we will ocirs, against these saucy walls : 
 And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, 
 Why, then defy each other ; and, pell-mell. 
 Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell. 
 
 K. Phi. Let it be so: — Say, where will you 
 assault ? 
 
 K. John. We from the west will send destruction 
 Into this city's bosom. 
 
 Aiist. I from the north. 
 
 A'. Phi. Our thunder from the south, 
 
 Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. 
 
 Bast. O prudent discipline ! From north to south ; 
 Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth : 
 
 (Aside.) 
 I'll stir them to it : — Come, away, away I 
 
 1 Cit. Hear us, great kings : vouchsafe a while 
 to st;iy, 
 And [ shall show you peace, and fair-faced league ; 
 Win you this city without stroke, or wound : 
 Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds. 
 That here come sacrifices for the field : 
 Persever not, but hi-ar me, mighty kings. 
 
 K. John. Speak on, with favour ; we are bent to 
 hear. [Blanch, 
 
 1 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady 
 Is near to England ; Look upon the years 
 Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid : 
 If lusty love should go in quest of beauty. 
 Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? 
 If zealous love should go in search of virtue. 
 Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
 If love ambitious sought a match of birth, 
 Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ? 
 Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, 
 Is the young Dauphin e\ery way complete: 
 If not complete, O say, he is not she : 
 And she again wants nothing, to name want, 
 if want it be not, that she is not he : 
 fie is the half part of a blessed man. 
 Left to be finished by such a she ; 
 And she a fair divided excellence. 
 Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. 
 O, two such silver currents, when they join, 
 Do glorify the banks that bound them in : 
 And two such shcrps to two such streams made one. 
 Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings. 
 To these two princes, if you marry them. 
 This union shall do more than battery can. 
 To our fast-closed gates ; for, at this match. 
 With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, 
 The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, 
 And give you entrance; but, without this match, 
 The sea enraged is not half so deaf, 
 Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
 More free from motion ; no, not death himself 
 In mortal fury half so peremptory. 
 As we to keep this city. 
 
 Bast. Here's a stay, 
 
 That shakes the roUen carcase of old death 
 
 Out of his rags ! Here's a large month, indeed. 
 
 That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and 
 
 Talks a'S taniiliarly of roaring lions, [seas; 
 
 As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs I 
 
 What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ? 
 
 He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and 
 
 bounce ; 
 He gives the bastinado with his tongue ; 
 Our ears are cudgel'd ; not a word of his. 
 But butlets better than a fist of France : 
 Zounds! 1 was never sobethump'd with words. 
 Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad. 
 
 Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this 
 match ; 
 Give with our niece a dowry large enough : 
 For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
 Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown, 
 'i'hat yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe 
 The bloom, that promiseth a mighty fruit. 
 I see a yielding in the looks of France ; 
 Mark, how they whisper : urge them, while theii 
 Are capable of this ambition : [souU 
 
 Lest zeal, now melted, by the windy breath 
 Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse. 
 Cool and congeal again to what it was. 
 
 1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties 
 This tViendly treaty of our threaten'd town? 
 
 K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been for- 
 ward first 
 To speak unto this city : What say you ? [son, 
 
 K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely 
 Can in this book of beauty read, I love. 
 Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen : 
 For Aiijou, and fair 'J'ouraine, Maine, Poictiers, 
 And all that we upon this side the sea 
 (Except this city now by us besieg'd,) 
 Find liable to our crown and dignity, 
 Shall gild her bridal bed ; and make her rich 
 In titles, honours, and promotions. 
 As she in beauty, education, blood. 
 Holds hand with any princess of the world. 
 
 K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy ? look in the lady'a 
 
 Leiv. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find [face. 
 A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, 
 The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ; 
 Which, being but the shadow of your son, 
 Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow : 
 I do protest, 1 never lov'd myself. 
 Till now infixed 1 beheld myself. 
 Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. 
 
 ( Whispers with Blanch.) 
 
 Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye ! — 
 Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow ! — 
 And qiiarter'd in her heart ! — he doth espy 
 
 Himself love's traitor : This is pity now. 
 That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should 
 In such a love, so "ile a lout as he. Cbe, 
 
 Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine : 
 If he see aught in you, that makes him like, 
 'I'hat any tiling he sees, which moves his lik*ug, 
 I can with ease translate it to my will ; 
 Or, if you will, (to speak more properly,) 
 1 will enforce it easily to my love. 
 Further 1 will not flatter you, my lord. 
 That all I see in you is worthy love. 
 Than this, — that nothing do I see in you, 
 ('J'hough churlish thoughts themselves should be 
 
 your judge,) 
 That [ can find should merit any hate. 
 
 K.John. What say these young ones? What 
 say you, my niece ? 
 
 Blanch. That she is bound iu honour still to do 
 What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say. 
 
 K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin ; can you 
 
 love this lady ? 
 Lev!. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from 1 
 For 1 do love her most unfeignedly. [.Maine. 
 
 K. John. Then do I give Volque.ssen, Touiuiue, 
 Poictiers and Anjou, these five provinces. 
 With her to lliee ; and this addition more, 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 289 
 
 Full tliirly tlmiisanJ marks of English coin. — 
 Pliiiip di' France, if thou be pleas'd withal, 
 Vouitnaiul thy son and daiiirhter to join hands. 
 
 K. Phi. It likes lis well: — Vouug princes, close 
 yonr hands. 
 
 Aiist. And your lips too; for, I am well assiir'd, 
 Tliat I (lid so, when I was first assnr'd, 
 
 K- Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, 
 (>"t in tli.it amity, which you have made; 
 l'"(ir at saint Alary's chapel, presently. 
 The rites of marriage shall be soienmiz'd. — 
 Is not tiie lady Constance in this troop? 
 [ know, sill' is not; for this match, made up. 
 Her presence wonld have interrupted mucli : 
 Where is she and her sou? tell me, who knows. 
 
 Lew. She is sad and passionate at your high- 
 ness' tent. [liave made, 
 
 K. Phi. And, by tny faith, this league, that we 
 Will give her sadness very little cure. — 
 Brother of England, how may we content 
 This widow lady ? In her rigiit we came ; 
 NV hich we, God knows, have turn'd another way. 
 To our own vantage. 
 
 K. John. We will heal up all. 
 
 For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne, 
 And earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town 
 We make him lord of — Call the lady Constance ; 
 .Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
 To our solemnity : — I trust we shall. 
 If not fill up the measure of her will. 
 Yet in some measure satisfy her so, 
 That we shall stoj> her exclaiijation. 
 Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, 
 'I'o this iinlook'd for unurepared pom]). 
 
 \Exeunt all but the Bastard. — The Citizens 
 retire from the tualls. 
 
 Bast. Mad vv'orld ! mnd kings ! mad composition ! 
 John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, 
 Hatli svillingly departed with a part: [on ; 
 
 And France, (whose ariwojr conscience buckled 
 Whom ze:il and charity broi/^ht to the field, 
 .^s God's own soldier,) roiinied in the ear 
 (V\i\\ th;it same (lurposecha iger, that sly devil ; 
 That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ; 
 That daily break-vow: he, that wins of all, 
 Of kings, of beggars, old m^n, young men, maids; — 
 Who having no external thing to lose 
 But the word luaid, — cheats the poor maid of that,; 
 That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tick ling commodity, — 
 Commodity, the bias of the world; 
 The world, who ofitseif is peised well. 
 Made to run even, upon even ground ; 
 Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias. 
 This sway of motion, this commodity, 
 Make it take head from all inditferency. 
 From all direction, purpose, course, intent : 
 And this sa:ne bias, this commodity. 
 This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 
 Clapp'd oil the outward eye of fickle France, 
 Ilath drawn him from his own determin'd aid. 
 From a resolv'd and honourable war. 
 To a most base and \ile-concluded ueace. — 
 .\nd why rail I on this commodity : 
 But for because he hath not woo'd me yet : 
 Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, 
 When his fair angels would salute my palm : 
 But for my hand, as unattcmpted yet. 
 Like a poor beggar, railelh on the rich. 
 Well, whiles I am beggar, I will rail, 
 And say, there is no sin, but to be rich ; 
 And being rich, my virtue then shall be, 
 To say, — there is no vice, but beggary : 
 Since kings break faith upon commodity. 
 Gain, be my lord! for I will wonship tliee ! [Exit.] 
 
 ACT III. 
 Scene I. — The same. The French King's Tent, 
 
 Enter Constance, Arthur, and Sausbury. 
 
 Const. Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace! 
 False blood to false blood join'd ! gone to be friends ! 
 
 Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch (liose |in>- 
 
 viiices ? 
 It is not so ; thou hiist mis-spoke, mis heard , 
 Be well advis'd, tell o'er tiiy tale again : 
 It cannot be ; tiiou dost hut say, 'tis so : 
 I trust, I may not trust thee ; for thy word 
 Is but the vain breath of a common man: 
 Believe me, I do not believe thee, man ; 
 I have a king's oath to tlie contrary. 
 Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, 
 For I am sick, and capable of fears ; 
 Oppress'd with wrongs, and tiierefore full of fear*; 
 A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ; 
 A woman, naturally born to fears ; 
 And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, 
 With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a tnicej 
 But they will quake and tremble all this day. 
 What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ? 
 Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 
 What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? 
 Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
 Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ? 
 Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? 
 Then speak again ; not all thy former tale. 
 But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
 
 Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false. 
 That give you cause to prove my saying true. 
 
 Const. 0, if thou teach me to believe this sorrovr 
 Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me die ; 
 And let belief and life encounter so. 
 As doth the fury of two desperate men, 
 Which, in the \ ery meeting, fall and die. — 
 Lewis marry Blanch ! O, boy, tiieu where art thou ? 
 France friend wfth England ! what becomes of me? — 
 Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight; . 
 'lliis news hath made thee a most ugly man. 
 
 Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, dune 
 But spoke the harm, that is by others done ? 
 
 Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, 
 As it makes harmful all that speak of it. 
 
 Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. 
 
 Const. If thou, that bid'st me be coutent,wert grim^ 
 Ugly, and sland'roiis to thy mother's womb. 
 Full of iinpleasing blots, and sightless stains. 
 Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, 
 Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-olfending mark.s, 
 I would not care , I then would be content; 
 For then 1 should not love thee ; no, nor thou 
 Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
 But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy. 
 Nature and fortune joiu'd to make thee great: 
 Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast. 
 And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, O ! 
 Siie is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee ; 
 She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; 
 And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on Fraoce 
 To tread down fair respect of sovereignty. 
 And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. 
 France is a bawd to fortune, and king John ; 
 That strumpet fortune, that usurping John: — 
 Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? 
 Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone. 
 And leave those woes alone, which I alone 
 Am bound to under-bear. 
 
 Sal. Pardon me, madam, 
 
 I may not go without yon to the kings. 
 
 Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with 
 I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; [tLu;: 
 
 For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 
 To me, and to the state of my great grief. 
 Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great. 
 That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
 Can hold it up : here I and sorrows sit ; 
 Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. 
 
 [She throws herself on the ground.) 
 
 Enter King JoHN, King Philip, Lewis, Bl/vnc^ 
 Elinor, Bastard, Austria, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter ; and this blessed 
 
 day 
 
 ly 
 
290 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Ever in France shall be kept festival • 
 To soleiTiuize this day, tlie glorious sun 
 Stays in his course, ami plays tlie alchyiist; 
 Turning, with splendor ot'iiis precious eye, 
 The meagre cloddy eartii to glittering gold : 
 Tiie yearly course, that brings this day about, 
 Sliall never see it but a holyday. 
 
 Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday! 
 
 (Rising.) 
 What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done ; 
 That it in golden letters should be set, 
 Aiiiuiig ihe high tides, in the kalendar? 
 Nay, ratlier, turn tliis day out of the week; 
 This day of shame, oppression, perjury: 
 Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child 
 Pray, lliat tiieir burdens may not fall this day, 
 Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd : 
 But on this day, let seamen iear no wreck ; 
 No bargains break, that are not this day made : 
 'I'his day, all things begun come to ill end; 
 Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change ! 
 
 K. PAL liy heaven, lady, you shall have no cause 
 To curse tlie fair ; roceedings of this day: 
 Have I iiot pawn'd to you my majesty ? 
 
 Const. You have beguifd me with a counterfeit, 
 Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd, and 
 
 tried. 
 Proves valueless : You are forsworn, forsworn : 
 You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood. 
 But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : 
 The grajipiing vigour and rough frown of war 
 Fs cold in amity and painted peace, 
 And our oppression hath made up this league : — 
 Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd 
 
 kings 1 
 A widow cries ; be husband to me, heavens ! 
 Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
 Wear out the day in peace ; but, ere sunset. 
 Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings ! 
 Hear me, O, hear me ! 
 
 Aust. Lady Constance, peace. 
 
 Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a 
 war. 
 'O Lymoges ! O Austria ! thou dost shame 
 That bloody spoil : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 
 
 coward ; 
 Thou little valiant, great in villainy ! 
 Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
 Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
 .But when her humorous ladyship is by 
 To teach thee safety! thou art [lerjur'd too, 
 .And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
 A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
 Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave, 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? 
 Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend 
 Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strengtii? 
 And dost thou now fall over to my foes? 
 Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame. 
 And hang a calf'sskin on those recreant limbs. 
 
 Aust. O, that a man should speak these words to 
 me ! [limbs. 
 
 Bast. And hang a calfs-skin on those recreant 
 
 Au^t. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. 
 
 Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on tliose recreant 
 limbs. [self. 
 
 A John. We like not this ; thou dost forget thy- 
 
 •Enter Pandulph. 
 
 K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. 
 
 Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven ! — 
 To thee, king John, my holy errand is. 
 ;l Pandujph, of fair Milan cardinal. 
 And from [wpe Innocent the legate here, 
 Do in his name, religiously demand. 
 Why thou against tJie church, our holy mother. 
 So wilfully dost spurn? and, force perforce. 
 Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop 
 0< Canterbury, from that holy see? 
 This, in our 'ibresaid holy fatuer's name 
 
 Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. 
 
 K. John. What earthly name to interrogatorie«. 
 Can task the free breath of a sacred king? 
 'I'hou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 
 So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous. 
 To charge me to an answer, as the pope. 
 Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England 
 Add thus much more,— That no Italian priest 
 Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; 
 Hut as we under heaven are supreme head. 
 So, nnder him, that great supremacy, 
 Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, 
 Without the assistance of a mortal hand : 
 So tell the pope; all reverence set apart. 
 To him, and his usurp'd autiiority. 
 
 K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme "ro 
 this. [Christendom, 
 
 K. John. Though you, and all the kings oj 
 Are led so grossly by this meddling priest. 
 Dreading the curse, that money may buy out; 
 And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust. 
 Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, 
 Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself: 
 Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led. 
 This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; 
 Yet I, alone, alone do nie oppose 
 Against the i>ope, and count his friends my foes. 
 
 Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have. 
 Thou shall stand cura'd, and excommunicate: 
 And blessed sliall he be, that doth revolt 
 From his allegiance to an heretic; 
 And meritorious shall that hand be call'd. 
 Canonized, and worship'd as a saint, 
 That takes away, by any secret course, 
 Thy hateful life. 
 
 Const. O, lawful let it be. 
 
 That I have room with Rome to curse a while! 
 Good father cardinal, cry thou, amen. 
 To Miy keen curses: for, without my wrong. 
 There is no tongue hath ])ower io curse him right. 
 
 Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my 
 curse. [right, 
 
 Const. And for mine too ; when law can do no 
 Let it be lawful, that law bar no wrong : 
 Law cannot give my child his kingdom here; 
 For he, that holds his kingdom, holds the law: 
 Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong. 
 How can the law forbid my tongue to curse, 
 
 Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse. 
 Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ; 
 And raise the power of France upon his head. 
 Unless he do submit himself to Rome. 
 
 Eli. Look'st thou pale, France ? do not let go 
 thy hand. (pent. 
 
 Const. Look to that, devil ! lest that France re- 
 And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. 
 
 Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. 
 
 Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreanc 
 limbs. [wrongs, 
 
 Aust. Well, ruffian, 1 must jiocket up these 
 Because 
 
 Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. 
 
 K. John. Philip, w hat say'st thou to the cardinal' 
 
 Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal? 
 
 Leiu. Bethink you, father; for the difference 
 Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, 
 Or the light loss of England for a friend : 
 Forego the easier. 
 
 Blanch. That's the curse of Rome. 
 
 Const. O Lewis, stand fast; the devil tempts 
 thee here. 
 In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. 
 
 Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from hei 
 But from her need. I'faJth 
 
 Const. O. if thou grant my need, 
 
 Which only lives but by the death of faith. 
 
 That need must needs infer this principle, 
 
 That faith would live again by death of need : 
 
 O, then, tread down my fieed, and faith mounts ny 
 
 Keep my need up, and faith is trodden dowr. 
 
.Scene 2. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 291 
 
 K. John. The king is niov'd, and answers not to 
 
 this. 
 
 Const. C), l:)e remov'd from him, and answer well. 
 
 Allot. Do so, king Philip; hang no more in 
 doubt liont. 
 
 Bast. !Iang nothing but a calfs-skin, most sweet 
 
 K. P/ii. I iiiii per|ilex"d, and know not what to say. 
 
 Panel. What canst thou say, b'lt will perplex 
 thee more, 
 irthon stand excominunicale; and ciirs"d ? 
 
 K. Phi. Good reverend i'atiier, make my person 
 yours. 
 And tell rne, how you would bestow yourself. 
 This royal hand and mine are newly knit; 
 And tlie coi)J4iiiction ot our inward souls, 
 Married in league, coupled and liiik'd together 
 With all religious strength of sacred vows; 
 The latest breath that gave the sound of words, 
 Was deep-sworn faiih, peace, amity, true love, 
 Between our ki;igdouis, and our royal selves ; 
 .\nd even before this truce, but new before, — 
 No longer than we well could wash our hands. 
 To clap this ri.yal bargain up of peace, — 
 Heaven knows,they were besmear'd and overstain'd 
 With slaughter's pencil ; where revenge did paint 
 The fearful dilferencf of incensed kings: 
 And shall these hands, so lately purs'd of blood. 
 So newly join'd in love, so strong in both. 
 Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet? 
 Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, 
 Make such unconstant chddren of ourselves. 
 As now ngiin to snatch our palm from palm; 
 Unswear taith sworn; and on the marriage bed 
 Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, 
 Aiul make a riot on the gentle brow 
 Of true sincerity ' O holy sir, 
 ]Vly reverend father, let it not be so: 
 Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose 
 Some gentle order; and then we shall be bless'd 
 To do your pleasure, and continue friends. 
 
 Pand. All ibrrn is li.rmless, order orderless. 
 Save what is opposite to England's love. 
 Therefore, to arms: be champion of our church! 
 Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, 
 A mother's curse, on her revolting son. 
 France, thou may'st lioM a serpent by the tongue, 
 A cased lion by the mortal paw, 
 A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, 
 Than keep in peace that hand, which thou dost hold. 
 
 K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. 
 
 Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith ; 
 And, like a civil war, sefst oath to oath, 
 'I'hy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow. 
 First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd ; 
 That is, to he the champion of our church ! 
 What since thou swor'st, is swnrn against thyself. 
 And may not be performed by thyself: 
 For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss, 
 Is not amiss, when it is truly done ; 
 And being not done, where doing tends to ill. 
 The truth is then most done not doing it: 
 The better act of ptnposes mistook 
 Is, to mistake again ; though indirect, 
 Yet indirection thereby gmws direct, 
 And falsehood falsehood cures ; as fire cools fire. 
 Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. 
 It is religion, tliat doth make vows kept; 
 But thou hast sworn against religion ; 
 By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou 
 
 swear'st ; 
 And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth 
 Against an oath : The truth thou art un>ure 
 To swear, swear only not to be forsworn ; 
 Else, what a mockery should it be to swear? 
 But thou dost swear only to be forsworn ; 
 And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. 
 Therefore, thy latter vows, against thy first, 
 Is in thyself rebellion to thyself: 
 And better conquest never canst thou make, 
 Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
 
 Against those giddy loose suggestions: 
 
 Upon which better part our pr-iyers come in, 
 
 If thou vouchsafe them : but, if not, then kitow. 
 
 The peril of our curses light on thee ; 
 
 So heavy, as thou slialt not shake them off. 
 
 But in despair, <lie under their black weight. 
 
 A list. liebellion, flat rebellion! 
 
 Bast. Wiirtnotbe? 
 
 Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? 
 
 Lew. Fatlier, to arms ! 
 
 Blanch. Upon thy wedding day? 
 
 Against the blood that thou hast married ? 
 What, shall our feast be kept with slaiigiiter'<l men? 
 Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums, — 
 Clamours of hell, — be measures to our pomp? 
 
 husband, hear me ! — ah, alack, how new 
 
 Is husband in my month! — even for that name, 
 Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce. 
 Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms 
 Against mine uncle. 
 
 Const. O, upon my knee. 
 
 Made hard with kneeling, 1 do pray to thee, 
 'I'hou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
 Forethought by heaven. [may 
 
 Blanch. Now shall I see thy love ; What motive 
 Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ? 
 
 Const. That, which upholdeth him, that thee 
 upholds, 
 His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour! 
 
 Lew. I muse, your majesty doth seem so cold. 
 When such profound respects do pull you on. 
 
 Pand. I willflenoiince a curse upon his head. 
 
 A'. Phi. Thou shall not need : — England, 1 11 fall 
 from thee. 
 
 Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty ! 
 
 Eli. O foul revolt of French inconstancy ! 
 
 K. John. France, thou shall rue this hour within 
 this hour. [time. 
 
 Bast. Old time the clock-setter, that bald sexteu 
 Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. 
 
 Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood: Fair day, 
 adieu ! 
 Which is the side, that I must go withal ? 
 
 1 am with both: each army hatli a hand; 
 And, in their rage, I having hold of both. 
 They whirl asunder, and dismember me. 
 Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win ; 
 Uncle, I needs must pray, that thou may'st lose; 
 Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ; 
 Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: 
 Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ; 
 Assured loss, before the match be ulay'd. 
 
 Lew. Lady, with me ; with me lliy fortune lies. 
 Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my 
 
 life dies. 
 K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance toge- 
 tlfer.— [Exit Bastard. 
 
 France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; 
 A rage, whose heat hath this condition. 
 That nothing can allay, nothing but blood. 
 The blood, and dearest valu'd blood, of France. 
 K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou 
 shalt turn 
 To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire : 
 Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 
 
 K. John. No more than he that threats. — To arms 
 let's hie ! \Exeuni. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Plains near Angiers. 
 
 Alarums; Excursions. Enter the Bastard ufilh 
 Austria's head. 
 Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wundroas 
 Some airy devil hovers in the sky, [hot; 
 
 And pours down mi chief. Austria's head lie thsre: 
 While Philip breathes. 
 
 E7iter King John, Arthur, and Hubebt. 
 
 K. John. Hubert, keep this boy : — Philip, make 
 np- 
 Mv mother is assailed in our tent. 
 
292 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Ant( ta'en, I fear. 
 
 Bant My lord, I rescu'd her; 
 
 Her hiifiiness is in salcty, I'ear you not; 
 But on, my liege ; (or very little jjains 
 Will bring tiiis labour tu an happy end. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The snme. 
 
 Alarums ; Excursions ; Retreat. Enter King 
 
 John, Elinor, Aktuub, the Bastard, Hubert, 
 
 and Lords. 
 
 K. John. So shall it be ; your grace shall stay 
 behind, {To Elinor.) 
 
 So strongly guarded. — Coii.sin, look not sad : 
 
 {To Arthur.) 
 Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle >vill 
 As df»r be to thee as thy father was. 
 
 Arth. ()»this will make my mother die with grief 
 
 K. John. Cousin, {to the Bastard) away for 
 England ; haste before : 
 And, ere (»ur coming, see thou shake the bag« 
 Of hoarding abbots ; angels imprison'd 
 Set thou at liberty : the fat ribs of peace 
 Must by tlie hungry now be fed upon : 
 Use our commission in his utmost force. 
 
 Bast. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me 
 back. 
 When gold and silver becks me to come on. 
 I leave your highness : — Grandam, 1 will pray 
 (If ever 1 remember to be holy,) 
 For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand. 
 
 Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin. 
 
 K. John. Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard. 
 
 Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. 
 {She takes Arthur aside.) 
 
 K. John. Come hitlier, Hubert. O my gentle 
 Hubert, 
 We owe thee much ; within thi.s wall of flesh 
 There is a soul, coinits thee her creditor. 
 And with advantage means to pay thy love : 
 And, my good iriend, thy voluntary oath 
 Lives in tins boso;n, dearly cherished. 
 Give me thy hand. 1 had a thing to say, — 
 But I will tit it v^'ith some better time. 
 My heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd 
 To say what good respect 1 have of thee. 
 
 tlub. I am much bounden to your majesty. 
 
 K. John. Good triend, thou hast no cause to say 
 so yet : 
 Bill tiiou shall have ; and creep time ne'er so slow. 
 Vet it shall come, for me to do thee good. 
 1 had a thing to say, — But let it go : 
 The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day. 
 Attended with the pleasures of the world. 
 Is all too wanton, and ton lull oi'gawds. 
 To give me audience : — If the midnight bell 
 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ; 
 If this same were a church-yard where we stand. 
 And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; 
 Or if that surly spirit, melancholy. 
 Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick ; 
 (Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins. 
 Making tliat idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes. 
 And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
 A passion ' .tt-fiii to my purposes;) 
 Or if (ha. inou coiildst see me without eyes. 
 Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
 Witliout a tongue, using conceit alone. 
 Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ; 
 Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
 But ah, 1 will not : — Vet 1 love thee well : 
 And, by my trotli, i think, thou lov'st me well. 
 
 Hull. So well, that what you bid me undertake, 
 Though that luy deatii were adjunct to my act. 
 By he:(vi'n, I'd dot ^ 
 
 K. John. D) not I know thou vvouldst? 
 
 Cooi' Hubert, Hubert , liniie-t, throw tiiine eye 
 On yon young bny : ||| tell thee what, my friend, 
 He is :i very serpent in my way ; 
 
 And, wheresoe'er this fool of mine doth Ireafl, 
 He lies beliire me : Dost thou understand me? 
 I'liou art his keeper. 
 
 Hub. And 1 will keep him so^ 
 
 That he sliall not offend your majesty. 
 
 K. John. Death. 
 
 Hub. My lord ? 
 
 K. John. A grave. 
 
 Hub. He shall not live. 
 
 K. John. Enough. 
 
 I could be merry now : Hubert, 1 love thee ; 
 Well, I'll n.)t say what I intend for thee : 
 
 Remember Madam, fare you well : 
 
 III send those powers o'er to your majesty. 
 
 Eli. My blessing go with thee ! 
 
 K. John. For England, cousia: 
 
 Hubert shall be your man, attena on you 
 With all true duty. — On toward Calais, ho ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. The French King's Tent. 
 
 Enter Kitig Philip, Lewis, Pandulph, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 A whole armado of convicted sail 
 Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. 
 
 Pand. Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go 
 well. [ill ? 
 
 K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run s» 
 Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost .■" 
 Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? 
 And bloody England into England gone, 
 O'erbearing interru))tion, spite of France ? 
 
 Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified : 
 So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd. 
 Such temperate order in so fierce a cause. 
 Doth want example : Who hath read, or heard. 
 Of any kindred action like to this ? (praise, 
 
 K. Phi. Well could I bear, that England had this 
 So we could find some pattern of our shame. 
 
 Enter Constance. 
 
 Look, who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ; 
 Holding the eternal spirit, against her will. 
 In the vile prison of afflicted breath: 
 I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me. 
 
 Con.tt. Lo, now ! now see the issue of your peace ! 
 
 K. Phi. Patience, good lady ! comfort, geutk 
 Constance ! 
 
 Const. No, 1 defy all counsel, all redress. 
 But that, which ends all counsel, true redress, 
 Death, death : — O amiable lovely death ! 
 ^'hou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 
 Arise forth from the couch of lasting night. 
 Thou hate and terror to prosperity, 
 And I will kiss tiiy detestable bones; 
 And put my eye -balls in thy vaulted brows; 
 And ring these fingers with thy household worms: 
 And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust. 
 And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
 Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st. 
 And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, 
 O, come to me ! 
 
 K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace. 
 
 Const. No, no, I will not, having breath fo cry : — 
 O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth ! 
 Then with a passion would I shake the world ; 
 And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy. 
 Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice. 
 Which scorns a modern invocation. 
 
 Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. 
 
 Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so ; 
 I am not mad : this hair I tear, is mine : 
 My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wif»; 
 Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost : 
 I am not mad ; — I would to heaven, I were ! 
 For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 
 O, ifl could, what grief should I forget! — 
 Preach some philosophy to make me mad. 
 And thou shait be canouiz'd, caidinal; 
 Fo"- heiug not mad, but sensible of grief. 
 
 ( 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 2U3 
 
 My reasonable part produces reason 
 
 How i may be aeliver'd of these woes. 
 
 And teaches nie to kill or hang myself: 
 
 If I were mad, I slioiild forget my son ; 
 
 Or madly think a babe of clouts were he . 
 
 I am not mad ; too well, too well I feel 
 
 The different plague of each calamity. (note 
 
 K. Phi Bind U|i those tresses : O, what love I 
 Jn the fair multitude of those her hairs I 
 Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, 
 Evea to that drop ten thousand wiry frieuds 
 Do glew themselves in sociable grief; 
 Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, 
 Sticking together in calamity. 
 
 Const. To England, if you will. 
 
 K. Phi. Bind up your hairs, 
 
 Const.Yea, that I will ; And wherefore will I do it ? 
 i tore tliem from their bonds ; and cried aloud, 
 
 that these hands could so redeem my son, 
 As they liave given these hairs tlieir liberty ! 
 But now 1 envy at their liberty, 
 
 And will again commit them to their bonds, 
 
 Because my poor child is a prisoner. 
 
 And, father cardinal, i have heard you say. 
 
 That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : 
 
 If that be true, I shall see my boy again ; 
 
 For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child. 
 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire. 
 
 There was not such a gracious creature born. 
 
 But now will canker soitow eat my bud. 
 
 And chase the native beauty from his cheek. 
 
 And he will look as hollow as a ghost; 
 
 As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; 
 
 And so he'll die ; and, rising so again, 
 
 VV^hen I shall meet him in the court of hea\eD 
 
 1 shall not knowliim: therefore never, never 
 Mast ! beJKild my pretlv Arthur more. 
 
 Pand. Vou hold too heinous a respect of grief. 
 
 Const. He talks to me, that never had a sou. 
 
 K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of yojirchild. 
 
 Coii^it. Grief fills the room up of my absent child. 
 Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; 
 Puts 0:1 his pretty looks, repeats his words. 
 Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 
 Stuffs out his \ acant garments with his form ; 
 Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. 
 Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, 
 I couUl give better comfort than you do. — 
 I wi51 not keep this form upon my head, 
 
 [Tearing off her head-dress.) 
 When there is such disorder in my wit. 
 O lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! 
 My life, my joy, my food, my all the world ! 
 My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' dire. [Exit. 
 
 K. Phi, I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me 
 Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, (joy : 
 
 Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; 
 And hitter shame hath spoiTd the sweet vt'orld's taste. 
 That it yields nought, but shame and bitterness. 
 
 Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease. 
 Even in the instant of repair and health, 
 The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, 
 On their departure most of all show evil : 
 What have you lost by losing of this day? 
 
 iteio. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. 
 
 Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had. 
 No, no : when fortune means to men most good. 
 She looks npon them with a threatening eye. 
 'Tis strange, to think how much king John hath lost 
 In this, which he accoimts so clearly won : 
 Are nftt you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? 
 
 Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him. 
 
 Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. 
 Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit ; 
 For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
 Shall blow each dust,' each straw, each little rub. 
 Out of the path, wliicli shall directly lead 
 Thy foot (o i^nglaud's throne ; and, therefore, mark. 
 
 John hath seiz'd Artlnir; and it caiiuot be, 
 
 That, whiles warm life phiys ia that infant's veiuu. 
 
 The misplac'd John should entertain an hour. 
 
 One minute, nay. one quiet fireatli of rest: 
 
 A sceptre, snatcli'd with an unruly hand. 
 
 Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd. 
 
 And he, that stands upon a slippery place, 
 
 Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up; 
 
 That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; 
 
 So be it, for it cannot be but so. [fall ? 
 
 Lew. Biit what shall I gain by yonng Arthur'* 
 
 Pand. You, in tlie right of lady Blanch your wife, 
 Mav then m.ike all the claim that Arthur did. 
 
 Lew. And lose if, life and all, as Arthur did. 
 
 Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old 
 world ! 
 John lays you plots : the times conspire with you: 
 For he that steeps his safety in true blood, 
 Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. 
 This act, so evilly born, sliall cool the hearts 
 Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal: 
 That none so small advantage shall step forth, 
 'i'o check his reign, but they will cherish it. 
 No natural exhalation in the sky, 
 No scape of nature, no dlstemper'd day. 
 No common wind, no customed event. 
 But they will pluck away his natural cause, 
 And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, 
 Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven. 
 Plainly denotmcing vengeance upon John. 
 
 Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's 
 life, 
 But hold himself safe in his prisonment. 
 
 Pand. O, sir. when he shall hear of your approach. 
 If that young Arthur be not gone already, 
 Even at that news he dies : and then tlie hearts 
 Ot all his people shall revolt from him. 
 And kiss the lips of unacquainted change; 
 And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath. 
 Out o{ the bloody fingers'-euds of John. 
 Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot; 
 And, O, what better matter breeds for you. 
 Than I have nam'd ! — The bastard Faulconbridge 
 Is now in England, ransacking the church. 
 Offending charity: If but a dozen French 
 Were there in arms, they would be as a call 
 To train ten thousand Euclish to their side; 
 Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, 
 Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, 
 Go with me to the king : 'Tis wonderful. 
 What may be \»roiight out of their discontent: 
 Now that their souls are topfull of oftence. 
 For England go; I will whet on the king. 
 
 Lew. Strong reasons make sti'ong actions : let 
 us go : 
 If you say,,ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Northampton. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Hubert and Two Attendants. 
 
 Hub. Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou 
 stand 
 Within the arras ■ when I strike my foot 
 Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth 
 .And bind the boy, which you shall find v»'ith me, 
 Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 
 1 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the 
 
 deed. 
 Hub. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you : look 
 to't. — lExeu7it Attendant$. 
 
 Young lad, come forth ; I have to say witli you. 
 Enter Arthuk. 
 Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. 
 Hub. Good morrow, little prince. 
 
 Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
 To be more prince, J as may be. — You are sad. 
 Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 
 Arth. Mercy on rael 
 
 Methinks, nobody should be sad but I ; 
 
294 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Vet. I remember, when 1 was in France, 
 Y 'Miif, jjenfleiiien would be as sad as nii^^lit, 
 0.il>' ("or wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 So I were out of prison, and kept slieep, 
 I should be as merry as the day is lon^ : 
 And so I would be here, but tliat I doubt 
 My uncle pr ictises ni.ire harm to me ; 
 He is afraid of me, and 1 of him : 
 li it my fiulf, that I was Geffrey's son ? 
 No, indeed, is't not; and I woidd to heaven, 
 I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. If I talk to iiim, with his innocent prate 
 lie will awake my mercy, which lies dead: 
 I'lierefore I will be sudden, and despatch. {Aside.) 
 
 Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale to-day : 
 In sootii, I would you were a little sick; 
 That I might sit all night, and watch with you : 
 I warrant, I love you more than you do me. 
 
 Hub. Hi." words do take jiossession of my bosom. — 
 Read here, young Arthur. {Showing a paper.) How 
 now, ibolish rheum ! {Aside.) 
 
 Turning dispiteous torture out of door! 
 I must be brief; lest resolution drop 
 
 Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. ■ 
 
 Can you not read it? is it not fair writ? 
 
 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : 
 Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? 
 
 Hub. Y'oung boy, 1 must. 
 
 Arth. And will you ? 
 
 Hub. And I will. 
 
 Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did 
 but ake, 
 I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
 (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
 And I did never ask it you again : 
 And with iiky hand at midnight held your head ; 
 And, like the watchful minutes to the hour. 
 Still and anon cheerVl up the heavy time ; 
 Saying, What lack you ? and. Where lies your grief? 
 Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
 Many a poor man's son would have lain still. 
 And lie'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
 But you at your sick service had a prince. 
 Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love. 
 And call it, cunning; Do, an if you will: 
 If heaven be pleas'd, that you must use me ill. 
 Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes? 
 These eyes, that never did, nor never shall. 
 So much as frown on you ? 
 
 Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 
 
 And with hot irons must I burn them out. 
 
 Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it ! 
 The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, 
 Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears. 
 And quench his fiery indrgnation. 
 Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
 Nay, after that, consume away in rust. 
 But for containing lire to harm mine eye. 
 Are you more stubborn-hard than hamoier'd iron? 
 An if an angel sho'ild have come to me. 
 And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
 I would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's. 
 
 Hub. Come forth. {Stamps.) 
 
 lie-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c. 
 
 Do as I bid you do. 
 
 Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes are 
 out. 
 Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 
 
 Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 
 
 Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
 F'or heavens sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
 Nay, hear n)f , Hubert! drive these men away. 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
 Nor look upon the iron angerly : 
 Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgi\e you. 
 Whatever torment you do put me to. 
 
 Hub. Go, stand within, let me alone with Kim. 
 
 1 Attend. I am best pleas'd to be fro/n such a 
 deed. [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my tneud; 
 He hafh a stern look, but a gentle heart: — 
 Let him come back, that his compassion mnj 
 Give life to yours. 
 
 Hub. Come, boy, prepare yoursel£ 
 
 Arth. Is there no remedy? 
 
 Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 
 
 Arth. O heaven ! — that there were but a mote id 
 yours, 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair. 
 Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
 Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there. 
 Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
 
 Hub. Is this your promise?go to, hold your tongue. 
 
 Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
 Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
 Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert! 
 Or, Hubert, if you will, cutout my tongue. 
 So I may keep mine eyes : O, spare mine eyes j 
 Though to no use, but still to look on you ! 
 Lo. by my troth, tiie instrument is cold. 
 And woulil not harm me. 
 
 Hub. I can heat it, boy. 
 
 Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead with griei^ 
 Being create for comfort, to be us'd 
 In undeserv'd extremes: See else yourself; 
 There is no malice in this burning coal ; 
 The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out. 
 And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. 
 
 Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 
 
 Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush. 
 And glow with shame ot your proceedings, Hubert: 
 Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes; 
 And, like a dog, that is compell'd tofi;;ht. 
 Snatch at his master, that doth tarre him on. 
 All things, that you should use to do me wroug. 
 Deny their office : only you do lack 
 That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends. 
 Creatures of note, fur mercy-lacking uses. 
 
 Hub.WeW, see to live ; I will not touch tliiue eye» 
 For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: 
 Yet am I sworn, and i did purpose, boy, » 
 With this same very ir6n to burn them out. 
 
 Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this whilfr 
 You were di.sguised. 
 
 Hub. Peace : no more. Adieu ; 
 
 Your uncle must not know but yon are dead: 
 I'll fill these dogged spies with lalse reports. 
 And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure 
 That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
 Will not ofli^nd thee. 
 
 Arth. O heaven! — I thank yon, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Silence : no more : Go closely in with me : 
 Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 Sce.nl II. — The same. A Boom of State in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter King John crowned: Peaihroke, S.4LIS- 
 
 BURY, a7id other Lords. The King takes hist 
 
 Stale. 
 
 K. John. Here once again we sit, once agakt 
 crown"d, 
 And look'd upon, I hope, with ctteerful eyes. 
 
 Pern. This once again, but that your highness 
 pleas'd. 
 Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before. 
 And that high royalty was ne'er jduck'd off; 
 The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ; 
 Fresh expectation troubled not the land. 
 With any long'd-for change, or better state. 
 
 5'«/. Therelbre, to be possess'd with double pump^ 
 To guard a title that was rich before. 
 To gild refined gold, to paint the lily. 
 To throw a perfume on the violet. 
 To smooth the ice, or add auotlier line 
 Unto the rainbow, or with taper light 
 To seek the beauteous eye of lieaven to garoidl^ 
 Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess^ 
 
SCEXE 2. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 295 
 
 Pern. But that your loyal pleasure must be done. 
 This act is as an ancient tale new told: 
 And, in the last re|)eating, troublesome, 
 Lieinff urged at a time unseasonable. 
 
 Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face 
 Ol' plain old Conn is niii<h disfigured : 
 And, like a shifted wind unto a sail. 
 It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; 
 .Startles and frights consideration ; 
 .Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
 For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 
 
 Pern. When workmen strive to do better than well, 
 They do conlbund their skill in covetousness : 
 And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, 
 Oof.h make the fault the worse by the excuse; 
 As patches, set upon a little breach, 
 Discredit more, in hiding of the fault, 
 ''i''h.Tn dill the faidt before it was so patch'd. 
 
 Sal. To tills elfect, before you were new-crown'd, 
 'tV'e breath'd our counsel : but it pleas'd your 
 
 highness 
 To o\erbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; 
 Since all and every part of what we would. 
 Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 
 
 A'. John. Some reasons of this double coronation 
 i have possess'd you with, and think them strong. 
 And more, more strong, (when lesser is my lear,) 
 i shall endue you with: Mean time, but ask 
 VVhat you would have reform'd, that is not well ; 
 And well shall you perceive, how willingly 
 I will both hear and grant you your requests. 
 
 Pein. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these, 
 To sound the purposes of all their hearts,) 
 i{o(h t(ir myself and them, (but, chief of all, 
 Your salety, for the which myself and them 
 Ufiid tlieir best studies,) heartily request 
 The enfranchisement oi' Arthur ; whose restraint 
 Doth mo\e the murmuring lips of discontent 
 To break into thi«i dangerous argument, — 
 if, what in rest you have, in right you hold, 
 Why thei! yonr fears, (which, as they say, attend 
 The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up 
 Voui tender kinsman, and to choke his days 
 With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth 
 Tlie rich adiantage of good exercise? 
 That the time's enemies may not have this 
 To grace occasions, let it be our suit. 
 That you have bid us ask his liberty ; 
 Which for our goods we do no further ask, 
 Than whereupon our weal, on you depending. 
 Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. 
 
 if. John. Let it be so ; I do commit his youth 
 
 Enter Hubert. 
 
 To your direction. — Hubert, what news with you ? 
 
 Pem.'VW.s is the man should do the bloody deed ; 
 He sliow'd his warrant to a friend of mine : 
 The image ol a wickeii heinous fault 
 Li\e3 in his eye : that close aspect of his 
 Does show tiie mood of a much troubled breast: 
 And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done. 
 What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. 
 
 Sal. I'he colour of the king dotli come and go, 
 Between his purpose and his conscience, 
 Like heralds, 'tvvixt two dreadful battles set; 
 His passion is so ri|ie, it needs must break. 
 
 Pe7H. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence 
 The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. 
 
 K.John.We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: — 
 Good lords, although my will to give is living. 
 The suit which you demand is gout and dead : 
 He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night. 
 
 Sal, Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. 
 
 Pern. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was, 
 Before tlie child himself fell he was sick: 
 This must be answer'd either here, or hence. 
 
 K. John. W^hy do you bend such solemn brows 
 on me ? 
 Think you, 1 hear the shears of destiny ? 
 Have 1 CO mnandment ou the pulse ot life '? 
 
 Sal. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis 'hame. 
 That greatness should so grossly oHer it : ** 
 
 So thrive it in your f^ame ! and so farewell. 
 
 Pem. Slay yet, lord Salisbury : I'll go with thee. 
 And find the inheritance of this poor child. 
 His little kingdom of a forced grave. 
 That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle. 
 Three foot of it doth bold; Bad world the while! 
 This must not be thus borne : this will break 
 To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 K. John. They burn in indignation ; 1 repent 
 There is no sure foundation set in blood. 
 No certain life achiev'd by others' deatlj 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 A fearful eye thou hast : Where is that bloiid, 
 
 That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ? 
 
 So foul a sky clears not without a storm : 
 
 Pour down tliy weather: — How goes all in France? 
 
 Mess. From France to England. — Never such a 
 For any foreign preparation, [power 
 
 VVas levied in the body of a land ! 
 The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ; 
 For, when you should be told they do prepare. 
 The tidings come, that they are ail arriv'd. 
 
 K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been 
 drunk? 
 Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care? 
 That such an army could be drawn in France, 
 And she not hear of it? 
 
 Mess. My liege, her ear 
 
 Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died 
 Your noble mother : And, as 1 hear, my lord. 
 The lady Constance in a frenzy died 
 Three days before : but this Irom rumour's tongue 
 I idly heard ; if true, or false, I know not. 
 
 K. John. VVithhuld thy speed, dreadful occa.sion! 
 O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd 
 JVIy discontented peers I — What! mother dead? 
 How wildly then walks my estate in Fiance ! — 
 Under whose conduct came those powers of France, 
 That thou tor truth giv'stout, are landed here? 
 
 Mess. Under the Dauphin. 
 
 Enter the Bastard, and Peter of Pomfret. 
 
 K. John. Thou hast made me gidcjy 
 
 With tliese ill tidings. — Now, what says the world 
 'J'o your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff 
 My head with more ill news, for it is full. 
 
 Bast. But if you be afeard to hear the worst. 
 Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. 
 
 K. John. Bear with me, cousin ; for I was aniaz'd 
 Under the tide : but now I brenthe again 
 Aloft the flood ; and can give audience 
 To any tongue, speak it of what it will. 
 
 Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen. 
 The sums I have collected shall express. 
 But, as I travelled hither through the land, 
 I find the people strangely fantasied ; 
 Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams; 
 Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: 
 And heie's a prophet, that I brought with me 
 From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I Ibnnd 
 With many hundreds treading on his heels; 
 To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, 
 'i'liat, ere the next Ascen.sionday, at noon. 
 Your highness should deli\ er up your crown. 
 
 K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst 
 thou so? 
 
 Peter. Foreknow ing that the truth will fall out so. 
 
 K.John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; 
 And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, 
 I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd • 
 Deliver him to salety, and return, ' 
 
 For I must use thee. — O my gentle cousin, 
 
 [Exit Hubert with Peter. 
 Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arnvd ? 
 
 Bast. The French, mv lord; men's mouths are 
 full of it : 
 
296 
 
 KING JOHN, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Besides , J met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, 
 (With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,) 
 And others more, going to seek the grave 
 Of Arthur, who, they say, is kilid to-night 
 On yonr suggestioD. 
 
 A. John. Gentle kinsman, go, 
 
 And thrust thyself into their companies • 
 I have a way to win their loves again; 
 Bring them before me. 
 
 Bast. I will seek them ont. 
 
 K. John. Nay, but make haste : the better foot 
 
 before. 
 
 O, let me have no subject enemies, 
 VVhnn adverse foreigners afJVight my towns 
 VVithdreadful pomp of stout invasion! — 
 Be iVJ<^icury, set feathers to thy heels ; 
 And fly, like thought, from them to me Hgain. 
 
 liast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 K. John. Spoke like a spritefiil noble gentleman. — 
 Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need 
 Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ; 
 .4nd be thou he. 
 
 Mens. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit. 
 
 li. John. My mother dead ! 
 
 Re-enter Hubert, 
 Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen 
 to-night : 
 Fonr fixed ; and the fifth did whirl about 
 The other lour, in wond'rous motion. 
 K.John. Five moons? ' 
 
 Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets 
 
 Do prophecy upon it dangerously : 
 Ifoung Artluir's death is common in their mouths : 
 And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
 And whisper one another in tlie ear; 
 And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ; 
 Whilst lie. that hears, makes fearful action. 
 With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 
 1 snw a smith stand with his hammer, thus. 
 The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool. 
 With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; 
 Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 
 Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 
 Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 
 Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
 That were embatteled and rankd in Kent : 
 Another lean unwash'd artificer 
 Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 
 
 K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with 
 these fears ? 
 Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ? 
 Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had mighty cause 
 To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill liini. 
 Hub. Had none, my lord ! why, did you not pro- 
 voke me ? 
 K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended 
 By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant 
 To break within the bloody house of life : 
 And, on the winking of authority, 
 To understand a law ; to know the meaning 
 Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns 
 More upon humour than advis'd respect. 
 
 Hub. Here is your hand and seal for «hat I did. 
 K. John. O, when tlie last account 'twixt heaven 
 and earth 
 Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
 Witness against us to damnation ! 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 
 Makes deeds ill done ! Hadst not thou been by, 
 A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd. 
 Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, 
 'Ihis murder had not cume into my mind: 
 But, taking note of thy abhurr'd aspect. 
 Finding thee fit for bloody villainy. 
 Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger, 
 I faintly broke with tliee of Arlhur's death ; 
 Apd thou, to be endeared to a king, 
 Mude it no consrieut-e to destroy a prince 
 
 Hub. My lord, 
 
 K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, M 
 made a pause, 
 When I spake darkly what I purposed; 
 Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face 
 As bid me tell my tale in express words; 
 Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off. 
 And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: 
 But thou didst understand me by my signs. 
 And didst in signs again parley with sin ; 
 Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent. 
 And, consequently, thy rude hand to act 
 The deed, which both our tongues held \ ile to name. 
 Out of my sight, and never see me more ! 
 My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd, 
 Even at my gates, with raiiks of loreign powers; 
 Nay, in the body of this fleshly land. 
 Tins kingdom, this confine of blood and breath. 
 Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
 Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 
 
 Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, 
 I'll make a peace between your soul and you. 
 Young Arthur is alive : 'i'his hand of mine 
 Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, 
 Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
 Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
 The dreadful motion of a miird'roiis thought. 
 And you have slander'd nature in my form ; 
 Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, 
 Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
 Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 
 
 K. John. Doth Arthur live i O, haste thee to tbe 
 peers. 
 Throw this report on their incensed rage. 
 And make them tame to their obedience ! 
 Forgive the comment, that my passion made 
 Upon thy leatnre ; for my rage was blind. 
 And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
 Presented thee more liideous than thou art 
 O; answer not ; but to my closet bring 
 'I'he angry lords, with all expedient haste: 
 I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeuni. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. Before the Castle. 
 Enter Arthur on the walls. 
 Arth. The wall is high ; and yet will 1 leap down : 
 Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not ! — 
 There's few, or none, do know me; if they did. 
 This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. 
 I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. 
 If I get down, and do not break my limbs, 
 I'll find a thousand shifts to get away : 
 As good to die, and go, as die, and stay, 
 
 [Leaps down.) 
 O pie ! my uncle's s irit is in these stones : — 
 Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones ! 
 ' [Dies.) 
 
 Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, and Bigot. 
 
 Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund'a- 
 Bury ; 
 It is our safety, and we must embrace 
 This gentle offer of the perilous time. 
 
 Pern. Who brought that letter i'roni the cardinal? 
 
 Sal. The count Aleluii, a noble lord of France; 
 Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love. 
 Is much more general than these lines import. 
 
 Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then, 
 
 Sal. Or, rather then set forward : for 'twill b© 
 Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd 
 lords ! 
 The king, by me, requests your presence straight. 
 
 Sal. 'I'he king hath diiipossess'd himst-lf of us; 
 We will nut line his thin bestained cloak 
 With our pure honours, nor attend the foot, 
 That leaves the print ol blood where-e'er it waika: 
 Keturn, and tell him so; we know the worst. 
 
SciiXE 3. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 297 
 
 Bcut. VVIiato'er yoii think, !>oofl words, 1 think, 
 were best. 
 
 Sal. Oir griefs, aiitl not our manners, reason now. 
 
 Hast. But lliere is little reason in your sriet'; 
 'Ilieref ire. 'twere reason yon had manners now. 
 
 Pern. Sir, sir, impatience hath his |jri\il-ge. 
 
 Bast. Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man else. 
 
 Sal, Tiiis IS tile piison : VViiatis he lies here? 
 
 {Seeing Arthur.) 
 
 Pern. O death, made proud with pure a..d princely 
 beauty! 
 The earth liatii not a hole to hi le this deed. 
 
 Sal. Mindnr, as hating what himself hath done, 
 Doih lay it open, to urge on revenge. 
 
 Bi'j. Or, when he doum'd this beauty to a grave. 
 Found it tmt preeioMS-princely lor a grave. 
 
 Sal. Sir liichaid, what think y.ou? Have you 
 beheld, 
 Or have you read, or heard ? or could you thiuk ? 
 Or do you alum.st think, although you see. 
 That you do see ? could thought, without this object. 
 Form such another? This is the very top, 
 The liei";ht, the crest, or crest unto the crest. 
 Of murdt-r's arms : this is the bloodiest shame. 
 The vvildt-st Savaf;'ry, the vilest stroke. 
 That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage. 
 Presented to the tears of soft remorse. 
 
 Petn. All murders past do stand excus'd in this : 
 And this, so sole, and so unmatchabie, 
 Shall give a holiness, a purity. 
 To the yet uiibrgirtten sin of time ; 
 And pro\e a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
 Exampled by this heinons spectacle. 
 
 Hast, ft IS a damned and m bloody work; 
 The graceless action of a heavy hand. 
 If (hat it be the work of any hand. 
 
 Sal. If that it be the work of any hand? — 
 We had a kind of light, what wuiild ensue : 
 It is the sliamelul work of Hubert's hand ; 
 The practice, and the purpose, of the king : — 
 From whose obedience I forbid my soul. 
 Kneeling fjf-fore this ruin of sweet life. 
 And breatliing to his breathless excellence 
 The incense of a vow, a Imly \ovv; 
 Never to taste the pleasures of the world. 
 Never to be infected with delight. 
 Nor coineisant with ease and idleness. 
 Till I have .set a glory to tliis hand. 
 By giving it the worship ot re\enge. 
 
 Pern. Big. Our souls religiously confirDi thy words. 
 
 Enter Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. 
 Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. 
 
 Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death : — 
 Avaiint, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! 
 
 Hub. I am no villain. 
 
 Sal. Must I rob the law ? 
 
 (Drawing his sword.) 
 
 Bast. Your sword is brigiit, sir; put it up again. 
 
 Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin. 
 
 Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; 
 By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as yours : 
 I would not have you, lord, forget yourself. 
 Nor tempt tlie danger of my true defence ; 
 Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget 
 Your wcirth, your greatness, and nobility. , 
 
 Big. Out, dunghill! dars'tthoii brave a nobleman? 
 
 Hub. Not for my life : but j'et I dare defend 
 My innocent life against an emperor. 
 
 Sal. Thou art a murderer. 
 
 Hub. Do not pro\ e me so ; 
 
 Yet, 1 am no'ie : Whose tongue soe'er .«peaks false. 
 Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly, lies. 
 
 Pern. Cut Inm to p.eces. 
 
 Bast. Keep the peace, I say. 
 
 Sal. bt.nid by, or I shall gall you, Faulconhridge. 
 
 Bast, 'i'liou wert better ^all llie devil, Silishury : i 
 If thou but liovvii on me, or stir ihy liiot, 
 Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame. 
 
 I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betitiie • 
 Or 111 so maul you and your toasting-iron. 
 That you shall think the devil is come from hell. 
 
 Big. What wilttiiou do, renowned Faulcoiibridg 
 Second a villain, and a murderer :* 
 
 Hub. Lord Bigot, 1 am none. 
 
 Big, Who kill'd this prince ? 
 
 Hub. 'Tis not an hour since 1 left him well . 
 I bonour'd him, I lo\ 'd him ; and will weep 
 My date of lile out, for his sweet life's loss. 
 
 Sal. Trust not those cunning waters ol his eyes. 
 For villainy is not without such rheum; 
 And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
 Like rivers ofrenior.se and innocency. 
 Away, with me, all you uliose souls abhor 
 'i'he uncleanly savouis of a slaughter-house ; 
 For I am stilled with this smell of sin. 
 
 Big. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! 
 
 Pern. There, tell the king, he may inquiie us out 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 
 Bast. Here's a good world! — Knew you of this 
 fair Work i 
 Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
 Of mercy, it thou didst tliis deed of death. 
 Art thou damii'd, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 
 
 Bast. Ha ! I'll tell thee what ; 
 Thou art damn'd as black — nay, nothing is so binck ; 
 Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer: 
 There is I'lt yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
 .As thou shall be, if tliou didst kill this child. 
 
 Hub. Upon my soul, 
 
 Bast. If thou didst but consent 
 
 To this most cruel act, do but despair, 
 And, if tho.i want'st a cord, the smallest thread 
 That ever spider twisted from her womb. 
 Will serve to .strangle thee ; a rush will be 
 A beam to hang tliee on ; or, would.st thou drowo 
 Put but a little water in a spoon, [thyself, 
 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 Enough to stifle such a villain up. — 
 I do suspect thee very grievously. 
 
 Hi.b. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought. 
 Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath. 
 Which was embounded in this beauteous clay. 
 Let hell want pains enough to torture me ! 
 I left him well. 
 
 Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms. 
 
 I am amaz'd, nietliinks; and lose my way 
 Among the thorns and dangers of this world. — 
 How easy dost thou take all England up ! 
 From forth this morsel of dead royalty. 
 The life, tiie right, and truth of all this realm 
 Is fled to heaven; and England now is left 
 To tug and scramble, and to part by th' teeth 
 The unovved interest of proiiil. swelling state. 
 Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of niajt-sfy. 
 Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest. 
 And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: 
 Now powers from home, and discontents at home. 
 Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits 
 (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,) 
 The imminent decay of wrested pomp. 
 Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can 
 Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child. 
 And follow me with speed ; I'll to the king: 
 A thousand businesses are brief in hand, 
 And heaven itself doth frowu upon the land. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene I.— The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter King John. Pandulph with the croivn, and 
 Attendanttt, 
 K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand 
 
 The circle of my glory. 
 
 Pand. Take again 
 
 [Giving John the croum,^ 
 From this my hand, as holding of the pope, 
 Your sovereign greatnes.'i and authority. 
 
298 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 K. Jokn. Now keep your holy word : go meet ihe 
 French ; 
 And from his holiness use all your power 
 To stop their marches, "fore we are intlum'd. 
 Our discontented counties do revolt; 
 Our people quarrel with obedience; 
 Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul, 
 To stranger hlood, to foreign royalty. 
 This inundation of misteinper'd humour 
 liests by you only to be qualified. 
 Then pause not; lor the present time's so sick, 
 'J'hat present medicine n)ust be minister'd, 
 Oro\erlhrow incurable ensues. 
 
 Panel. It was my breath that blew this tempest 
 Upon your stubborn usage of the pope: [up, 
 
 But, since you are a gentle convertite, 
 My tongue sliall hush again this storm of war, 
 And make fdir weather in your blustering laud. 
 On this Ascension-day, remember well. 
 Upon your oath of service to tlie pope. 
 Go I to make the French lay down their arms. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 K. John. Is this Ascension day ? Did not the uro- 
 Say, tliat, before Ascension-day at noon, [pliet 
 
 My crown I should give off i" Even so I have : 
 I did suppose, it should be on constraint; 
 But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 
 Bast. All Kent hath yielded; nothing' there holds 
 But Dover castle: London hath receiv'd, [out. 
 
 Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers : 
 Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
 To oiler service to your enemy : 
 And wild amazement hurries up and down 
 The little number of your doubtful friends. 
 
 K. John. Would not my lords retinii to me again. 
 After they heard young Arthur was alive ? 
 
 Bast. 'I'hey foimd liim dead, and cast into the 
 An empty casket, where the jewel of life [streets ; 
 By some danm'd hand was robbd and ta'en away. 
 
 /v. John. 'J'bat villain Hubert told me, he did lixe. 
 
 Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. 
 But wherefore do you droop ? wliy look you sad ? 
 Be great in act, as yon have been in thought : 
 Let ni<t the world see fear, and sad distrust. 
 Govern the motion of a kingly eye : 
 Be stirring as the time ; be lire with fire ; 
 Threaten tlie threat'ner, and outface the brow 
 Ol bragujiij' horror: so shall inferior eyes. 
 That borrow their behaviours from the great. 
 Grow great by your example, and put on 
 'I'lie dauntless spirit of resolution. 
 Away ; and glister like the god of war, 
 When he intendeth to become the field : 
 Slinw boldness, and aspiring cimfidence. 
 What, shall they seek the lion in his den. 
 And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ? 
 O, let it not be said ! — Forage, and run 
 To meet displeasure further from the doors; 
 And grapple with him, ere he comes so nigh. 
 
 H.. John. The legate of tlie pope hath been with me, 
 And I have made a happy peace with him ; 
 And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers, 
 Led by the Dauphin. 
 
 Bast. O inglorious league ! 
 
 Shall we, upon the footing of our land. 
 Send fiir-play orders, and make compromise. 
 Insinuation, parley, and base truce, 
 I'o arms invasive? shall a beardbss boy, 
 A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, 
 -Aud flesh his spirit in a warlike soil. 
 Mocking the air with colours idly spread. 
 And find no clieck ? Let us, my li>-ge , to arms: 
 Feichance, the cardinal cannot make your peace; 
 (|r if he do, let it at least be said. 
 They saw we had a purpose of ilefence. [time. 
 
 K.John. Have thou tiie ordering of this present 
 Bast. Away then, with good courage; vet, I 
 ki.uw. 
 
 Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Eseunt. 
 Scene 1L — A Plain near St. Edmund' s-Bury. 
 
 Enter in arms. Lewis, Salisbury, Mbll'n, Pem 
 BKOKE, Bigot, and Soldiers. 
 Lew. My lord Melon, let this be copied out. 
 And keep it safe for our reniemjrance : 
 Return the precedent to these lords again: 
 That, having our fair order written down, 
 Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes. 
 May know wherefore we look the sacrament, 
 And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. 
 
 Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. 
 And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
 A voluntary zeal, and nnurg'd faith, 
 To your proceedings ; vet, believe me, prince, 
 I am not glad, that such a sore of time 
 Siiould seek a plaster by contemu'd revolt. 
 And heal the inNcterate canker of one wound, 
 Hy making many : O, it grieves my soul. 
 That I must draw this metal from my side 
 To be a widow-maker : O, and there. 
 Where honourable rescue, and defence. 
 Cries out upon the name of Salisbury : 
 But such is the infection of the time, ■ 
 That, for the health and physic of our rights 
 We cannot denl but with the very hand 
 Of stern injustice and confused wrong. — 
 And is't not pity, O my grieved friends ! 
 That we, the sons and children of this isle 
 Were born to see so sad an hour as this ; 
 Wherein we step after a stranger march 
 Upon her gentle bosom, and fill np 
 Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep 
 Upon the spot of this enforced cause,) 
 To grace the gentry of a land remote. 
 And follow unacquainted colours here? 
 What, here ? — O nation, that thou cimldst remofe . 
 That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about. 
 Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself. 
 And grapple thee unto a Paijan shore : 
 Where tliese two Christian armies migiit combine 
 The blood of malice in a vein of league. 
 And not to spend it so unneighbourly ! 
 
 Leiv. A noble temper dost thou show in thisj 
 And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom. 
 Do make an earthquake of nobility. 
 O, what a noble combat hast tiiou fought. 
 Between compulsion and a brave respect 
 Let me wipe olf this honourable dew. 
 That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 
 My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
 Being an ordinary inundation ; 
 But this efi'usion of such manly drops, 
 This shower, blown up by tempest of the sonl, 
 Startles mme eyes, and makes me more ivmaa'd 
 Than had 1 seen the vanity top of heaven 
 Fi^ur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 
 Lift np tliy brow, renowned Salisbury, 
 And with a great heart heave away this storm ; 
 Commend these waters to those baby eyes. 
 That never saw the giant world enrag'd; 
 Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, 
 Fidl warm of blood, ol mirth, of gossiping. 
 Come, come ; for ti;ou shall thrust thy hand as de^ 
 Into the purse of rich prosperity. 
 As Lewis himself: — so, nobles, shall you all, 
 That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 
 
 Enter Pandulph, attended. 
 
 And even there, methinks, an au^el spake : 
 Look, where the holy legate comes apace, 
 To gi\e us warrant irom the nand ol heaven; 
 And on our actions set the name of right. 
 With holy breath. 
 
 Pand. Hail, noble prince of France! 
 
 The next is this, — king John Imtli leconcil'd 
 Himself to K<.me; his spirit is come in. 
 That SI) sto' d out against the holy • hurch, 
 'I'he great metropolis and see ol Rou'e ; 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 299 
 
 Thertiore I'hy threat'ning colours now wind up, 
 And tame, the savage spirit of wild war; 
 'I'hat, like a lion foster'd up at hand, ' 
 
 It may lie gently at the foot of peace, 
 And be no furtiier harmful than in show. 
 
 Lew. Yourgrace shall pardon me, 1 will not back ; 
 f am too high-born to be propertied. 
 To be a secondary at control, 
 Or useful serving man, and instrument, 
 To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
 Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars. 
 Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself, 
 And brought ia matter, that should feed this fire ; 
 And now 'tis far loo huge to be blown out 
 With that same weak wind, which enkindled it. 
 You taught me how to know the face of right. 
 Acquainted me with interest to this land. 
 Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart ; 
 And come you now to tell me, John hath made 
 His peace with Rome ? What is that peace to me ? 
 I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, 
 Afler young Arthur, claim this land for mine ; 
 And, now it is half-couquer'd, must 1 back, 
 Because tliat John hath made his peace with Rome ? 
 Am I Rome's slave ? What penny hath Rome borne. 
 What men provided, what munition sent, 
 To underprop this action? is't not I, 
 That undergo this charge ? who else but I, 
 And such as to my claim are liable, 
 Sweat in this business, and maintain this war ? 
 Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 
 Vive le Roy ! as I have bank'd their towns ? 
 Have I not here the best cards for the game, 
 To win this easy match, play'd for a crown? 
 And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? 
 No, on iny soul, it never shall be said. 
 
 Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. 
 
 hew. Outside or inside, I will not return. 
 Till my attempt so much be glorified 
 As to my ample hope was promised. 
 Before I drew this gallant head of war. 
 And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world. 
 To outlook conquest, and to win renown 
 Even iu the jaws of danger and of death. — 
 
 [Trumpet sounds.) 
 What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ? 
 
 Enter Bastard, attended. 
 
 Bast. According to the fair play of the world, 
 Ijet me have audience ; I am sent to speak : — 
 My holy lord of Milan, from the king 
 1 rome, to learn how you have dealt for him ; 
 And, as you answer, I do know the scope 
 And warrant limited unto my tongue. 
 
 Pan. Tha Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, 
 And will not temporize with my entreaties ; 
 He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. 
 
 Bast By all the blood, that ever fury breath'd. 
 The youth says well : — y ow hear our English king ; 
 For thus his royalty doth speak in me. 
 He is prepar'd ; and reason too, he should : 
 This apish and unmannerly approach. 
 This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel. 
 This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, 
 'I'he king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd 
 To whip tiiis dwarfish war, these pigmy arms. 
 From out the circle of his t. rritories. 
 That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, 
 To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ; 
 To dive like buckets, in concealed wells; 
 To croi:ch in litter of your stable planks: 
 To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks ; 
 To hug witii swine ; to sefk sweet safety out 
 In vaults and prisons: and to thrill, and shake, 
 Even at the crying ol your nation's crow. 
 Thinking his \oice an armed Englishman ; — 
 •Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, 
 That ill your chainl)ers gave yon chastisement? 
 No: Koow.the gallant monarch is in arms; 
 And like an eagle o'er his airy towers. 
 
 To souse annoyance, that comes near his nest— 
 
 And you degenerate, you ingrale revolts. 
 
 You bloody Neroes, ripping up (he womb 
 
 Of your dear mother England, blush fcr shame: 
 
 For your own ladies, and pale-visag'-* maids. 
 
 Like Amazons, come tripping after drums ; 
 
 Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change. 
 
 Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts 
 
 To fierce and bloody inclination. [peace ; 
 
 Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in 
 We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well 
 V\ e hold our time too precious to be spent 
 With such a brabbler. 
 
 Pand. Give me leave to speak. 
 
 Bast. No, I will speak. 
 
 Letv. We will attend to neither:— 
 
 Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war 
 Plead for our interest, and our being here. [out ; 
 
 Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry 
 And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start 
 And echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
 And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd. 
 That. shall reverberate all as loud as thine; 
 Sound but another, and another shall. 
 As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, 
 And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand 
 (Not trusting to this halting legate here. 
 Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) 
 Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
 A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
 To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 
 
 Leiv. Strike upon our drums, to find this danger 
 out. 
 
 Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not 
 doubt. [ExeunL 
 
 ScE^EUL—TAe same. A Field of Battle. 
 Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert., 
 K. John. How goes the day witii us ? O, tell me, 
 
 Hubert. 
 Hub. Badly, I fear : How fares your majesty ? 
 K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so 
 Lies heavy on me ; O, my heart is sick I [long. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcoa 
 Desires your majesty to leave the field ; [bridge. 
 And send him word by me, which way you go. 
 
 K. John. Tell him. toward Swiustead, to the 
 abbey there. 
 
 Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply. 
 That was expected by the Dauphin here. 
 Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin's sands. 
 This news was brought to Richard but even now: 
 The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. 
 
 K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, 
 
 And will not let me welcome this good news. 
 
 Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ; 
 Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. Another part of the same. 
 Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and others 
 
 Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with frienda. 
 
 Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French; 
 If they miscarry, we miscarry too. 
 
 Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, 
 In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. 
 
 Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left 
 the field. 
 
 Enter Melun tvounded, and led by Soldiers. 
 
 Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. 
 
 Snl. When we were happy, we had other names, 
 
 Pe7n. It is the count Melun. 
 
 Sal. Wounded to death. 
 
 Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold) 
 Unthread the rude eye of rebellion. 
 And welcome home again discarded faith. 
 Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; 
 For, if the French be lords of this loud day. 
 
300 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 He mcnns to recompense the pains you take, 
 By ciittinsr off your heads : Thus hath he sworn, 
 And I with him, and many more with me. 
 Upon the altar at Saint Edmiiiid's-Uury ; 
 Kven im that altar, where we swore to you 
 Dear amity and everlasting love. 
 
 Sal Mity this be possible ? may this be true ? 
 
 M^l. Have I not hideous death within my view, 
 Retiining but a quantity of lite ; 
 VV'hicli bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
 Resolveth from his figure 'ijainst the lire ? 
 What in the world should make nie now deceive, 
 Since 1 must lose the use of all deceit '■' 
 Why should I tiien be false ; since it is true, 
 That I must die here, and live heuce by truth? 
 I say aniiin, if Lewis do win the day, 
 He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours 
 Behold another day break in the east: 
 But even this night, — whose black contagious 
 
 breath 
 Already smokes about the burning crest 
 Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, — 
 Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire^ 
 Paying tiie fine of rated treachery, 
 Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives. 
 If Lewis by your assistance win the day. 
 Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; 
 The love of him, — and this respect besides. 
 For that my grandsire was an Englishman, — 
 Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
 In lien whereof, I pray you, bear me hence 
 From forth the noise and rumour of the field : 
 Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
 In peace, and part this body and my soui 
 With contemplation and devout desires. 
 
 S(iL We do believe thee, — And beshrew my soul 
 But I do love the favour and the form 
 Of this most fair occasion, by the which 
 We will untread the steps of dannied flight; 
 And, like a bated and retired flood. 
 Leaving our rankness and irregular course, 
 Stoop low within those bo(mds we have o'erlook'd. 
 And calmly run on in obedience, 
 
 F.ven to our ocean, to our great king John. 
 
 My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ; 
 For I do see the cruel pangs of death 
 Right in thine eye. — Away, my friends ! New flight; 
 And happy newness, that intends old right. 
 
 [ Exeunt, leading off Melun. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. The French Camp. 
 Enter Lewis and his Train. 
 
 Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath 
 to set ; 
 But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, 
 When the English measur'd backward their own 
 In faint retire: O, bravely came we oli', [ground. 
 When with a volley of our needless shot. 
 After such bloody toil, we bid good night; 
 And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up. 
 Last in the field, and almost lords of it ; 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ? 
 
 Lew. Here : — What news ? 
 
 Mess. The count Melun is slain ; the English 
 lords, 
 By his persuasion, are again fall'n off; 
 And your supply, which you have wish'd so long. 
 Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. 
 
 Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news I. — Beshrew thy very 
 I did not think to be so sad to-night, [lieai t ! 
 
 As this huth made me. — Who was he, tliat said. 
 King John did lly, an h ui or two bt-foe 
 The stumbling night did part our weary powers? 
 
 Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. 
 
 Leiv. Well ; keep good quarter, and good care 
 The day shall not be up so socm as 1. [to-night; 
 
 To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VL— An open Place in the neigkbonrhood 
 of Swinstead- Abbey. 
 
 Enter the Bastard and Hubert, meeting. 
 
 Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho i speak quickly 
 or I shoot. 
 
 Bast. A friend : — What art thou ? 
 
 Hub. Of the part of England. 
 
 Bast. Whither dost thou go? [mand 
 
 Hub. What's that to thee r Why may I not de- 
 Of Uiine affairs, as well as thou of mine ? 
 
 Bast. Hubert, I think. 
 
 Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought ; 
 
 I will, upon all hazards, well believe 
 Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so ivell : 
 Who art thou ? 
 
 Bast. Who thou wilt : an' if th<in t>lease. 
 
 Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to ihmk, 
 I come one way of the Plantagenets. [night. 
 
 Hub. Unkind remembrance ! thou, and eyeless 
 Have done me shame : — Brave soldier, pardon me. 
 That any accent, breaking from thy tongue. 
 Should '.scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. 
 
 Bast. Come, come ; sans compliment, what new's 
 abroad ? [night. 
 
 Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of 
 To find you out. 
 
 Bast. Brief, then ; and what's the news ? 
 
 Hub. O, my sv^eet sir, news fitting to the night. 
 Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. 
 
 Bast. Shovv me the very woimd of this ill news; 
 I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. 
 
 Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk : 
 I left him almost speechless, and broke out 
 To acquaint you with this evil ; that you might 
 The better arm you to the sudden time, 
 Th:in if you had at leisure known of this. 
 
 Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him ? 
 
 Hub. A ihonk, I tell you; a resolved villain, 
 Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king 
 Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may rt cover. 
 
 Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ? 
 
 Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all 
 come back. 
 And brought prince Henry in their company ; 
 At whose request the king hath pardon'd them. 
 And they are all about his majesty. 
 
 Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven. 
 
 And tempt us not to bear above our power! 
 
 I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night. 
 Passing these flats, are taken by the tide. 
 These Lincoln washes have devoured them ; 
 Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. 
 Away, before ! conduct me to tlie king ; 
 I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene \' 1 1. — The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry, SAUSUVRy , and Bigot. 
 
 P. Hen. It is too late ; the lile of all his blood 
 Is taiich'd corruptibly: and his pure brain 
 (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling 
 
 house,) 
 Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, 
 Foretell the ending of mortality. 
 
 Enter Pembroke. 
 
 Pern. His highness yet doth speak; and holds 
 That, being broui^lit into the open air, [belief. 
 
 It would allay tiie burning quality 
 Of that lell poison which assaileth him. [here. — 
 
 P. Hen. Let him be bionght into the orchard 
 Doth he still rage ? , [Exit Bigot. 
 
 Pern. He is more patient 
 
 Than when vou left him; even now he sung. 
 
 P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! lit-rce extremes. 
 In their continuance, will not feel theinseivt-s. 
 Death, having piey'd upon tlie outwa.d parts. 
 Leaves them insensible; and his sicgi- is now 
 Against the mind, the which Iip pricks and wounds 
 With many legions of strange fantasies ; 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 Wliich, iji their throi^ antl press to that last hold. 
 Confound themselvej. 'Tis strange, that death 
 
 should sing-" 
 I am the cygnet to tK,3 pa'.^ faint swan, 
 Who chants a doleful hymn to his ovyn death j. 
 And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings 
 His soul and body to their lasting rest 
 
 Sal. lie of good comfort, prince : for yon are born 
 To set a forn\ upon tiiat indigest. 
 Which he hath left so shapeless and so rnde. 
 
 Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in 
 King John iyi a chair. 
 
 K. John, Ay, marry, now my soid hath elbow-. 
 It would not oMt at windows, nor at doors, [room ; 
 There is so hot a snuinier in my bosom. 
 That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
 [ am a scribbled form, drawn with a |jen 
 Upon a parchment ; and against this fire 
 Do I shrink up. 
 
 P. Hen. How fares your majesty ? [off: 
 
 K. John. Poison'd,— ill fare; — dead, forsook, cast 
 And none of you will bid the winter come. 
 To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; 
 Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
 Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north 
 To make liis bleak winds kiss my parched lips. 
 And comfort me with cold : — I do not ask you much, 
 I l>eg cold comfort ; and you are so strait. 
 And so ingrateful, you deny me that. 
 
 P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my 
 That mis; lit relieve you! [tears, 
 
 K. John. The salt in them is hot. — 
 
 VV'iliiin me is a hell ; and there the poison 
 Is. as a fiend, contia'd to tyrannize 
 On unrepiievable condemned blood. 
 
 Enter the Bastard. 
 
 Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion. 
 And spleen of speed to see your majesty. [eye : 
 
 A". John. O cousin, tliou art come to set mine 
 The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; 
 And all tlie shrouds wherewith my life should sail, 
 Are turned to one thread, one little hair: 
 My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, 
 Which holds but till thy news be uttered ; 
 .And then all lliis tiiou see.st, is but a clod, 
 And module of confounded royalty. 
 
 Bast. The Daii|ii)in is preparing hitherward ; 
 Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him: 
 For, in a night, the best part of my power. 
 As 1 upon advantage did remove. 
 Were in the washes, all unwarily, 
 Devoured by the unexpected flood. {The King dies.) 
 
 Sal You breathe these dead news ia as dead an 
 ear 
 
 My lie tje ! my lord ! — Eat now a king. — now (Lns. 
 
 P. Hen. Even so must I ru^i on, and even so stop. 
 What surety of the world, v,! at hope, what stay, 
 When this was now a king, and now is cUy 1 
 
 Bast. Art thou gone so i I do but stay behind, 
 To do the office for thee of revenge ; 
 And then my soul shall wait on thee toheavori, 
 
 As it on earth hath been tiiy servant still. 
 
 Now, now, you stars, that mo\e in your right 
 spheres, [iaiths; 
 
 Where be your powers ? Siiovv now your mended 
 And instantly return with me again. 
 To push destruction, and perpetual shame, 
 Out of the weak door of our fainting land ; 
 Straight let us seek, or straight we shall oe sought; 
 The Dauphin rages at our very heels. 
 
 Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we : 
 The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest. 
 Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin ; 
 .\nd brings from him such offers of our peace 
 As we with honour and respect may take, 
 With purpose presently to lea^e this war. 
 
 Bast. He will the rather doit, when he sees 
 Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. 
 
 Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; 
 For many carriages he hath despatch'd 
 '\o the sea side, and put his cause and quarrel 
 To the disposing of the cardinal : 
 With whom yourself, myself, and other lords. 
 If you think meet, tiiis alternoon will post 
 To consummate this business happily. 
 
 Bast. Let it be so : — And you, my noble prince. 
 With other princes that may best be spar'd, 
 Shall wait upon your father's funeral. 
 
 P. Hen. At VVorcester must his body be interr'd ; 
 For so he will'd it. 
 
 Bast. Thither shall it then. 
 
 And happily may your sweet self put on 
 The lineal state and glory of the laud! 
 To whom, with all submission, on ray knee, 
 I do bequeath my faithful services 
 And true subjection everlastingly. 
 
 Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, 
 To rest without a spot tor evermore. [thanks, 
 
 P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you 
 And knows not how to do it, but with tears. 
 
 Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe. 
 Since it hath been bet.)rehand with our griefs. — 
 Tiiis England never did, (nor never shall,) 
 Lie at tlie pmud loot of a conqueror. 
 But when it first did help to wound itself. 
 Now these her princes are come home again, 
 (yOuie the three corners oi the world in arms, [rue. 
 And we shall shock them: Nought shuil make us 
 if England to itself do rest but true. lEiiuiit. 
 
KING RICHARD II. 
 
 TLis play is one of those which Shakspeare has apparently revised; but as success in works of invention is not 
 (Uwsyr. pniportioiiate to labour, it is nut linislieU at last wiih the happy force of some otlier of his tragedies, nor 
 ;aii be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understaL'ding. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 KING RICHARD THE SECOND. 
 
 EDMUND OF LANGLEY, Duke of York, \ Uncles tothe 
 iOHT^ OP GPajtiT, Duke of Laiicnster, \ King. 
 HENRY, snrnameit BOLINGBROKE, Duke ofHerelord, 
 
 Son 10 John of Gaunt ; afterwards King Henry IV. 
 DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son to the Duke of York. 
 MOWBRAY, Uuke of Norfolk. 
 DUKE OF SURREY. 
 EAKL OF SALISBURY. 
 EARL BERKELJirif. 
 BUSHY. / 
 
 BAGOT, > Creatures to King Richard. 
 GREEN, S 
 
 EARL F NORTHUMBERLAND. 
 HENRY PERCY, hit Son. 
 
 LORD ROSS. 
 LOi D WILLOUGHBY. 
 LORD FITZWATEK. 
 BISHOP OF CARLISLE. 
 ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER 
 Lord Marshal; and another Lord. 
 SIR PIERCE OF EXTON. 
 SIR STEPHEN SCROOP. 
 Captain of a Band of Welshmen^ 
 QUEEN to Kino Richard. 
 DUCHESS OF GLOSTER. 
 DUCHESS OF YORK. 
 Lady attending on the Queen. 
 
 Lords, Heralds, O.fficers, Soldiers, two Gardeners 
 Keeper, Messenger, Groom, ajid other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Dispersedly in England and FFales. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Loiidun. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Richard, attended; John of Gaunt, 
 and other Nobles with him. 
 
 K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time honour'd 
 Lanca.ster, 
 Hast thou, according to thy oath and band. 
 Brought iiither Henry Hereford thy bold son; 
 Here to make good the boisterous late appeal. 
 Which then our leisure would not let us hear. 
 Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? 
 
 Gaunt. I have, my liege. 
 
 K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded 
 If lie ap[)eal the duke on ancient malice ; [him. 
 
 Or worthily, as a good subject should, 
 On some known ground of treachery in him? 
 
 Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on tiiat argu- 
 Ou some apparent danger seen in him, [meet, — 
 
 Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. 
 
 K. Rich. Then call them to our presence ; face 
 to face. 
 And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear 
 The accuser, and the accused, freely speak: — 
 
 [Exeunt some Attendants. 
 High-sfomach'd are they both, and full of ire. 
 In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as (ire. 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, with Bolingiiroke and 
 Norfolk. 
 
 Bolirtfi. Many years of happy day.s befal 
 My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege ! 
 
 Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; 
 Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap. 
 Add an immortal title to your crown ! 
 
 K. Rich. We thank you both ; yet one but flatters 
 As well appeareth by the cause you come ; [us. 
 Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. — 
 Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 
 Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 
 Baling. First, (heaVen be the record to my 
 In the devotion of a subject's love, [speech !) 
 
 Tendering the precious safety of my prince, 
 And free from other misbegotten hate, 
 Come 1 appellant to this princely presence. — 
 Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee. 
 And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak • 
 My body shall make good upon this earth, 
 Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. 
 Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant ; 
 Too good to be so, and too bad to live ; 
 Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, 
 The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. 
 
 Once more, the more to agg'ravate the note, 
 With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ; 
 And wish, (so please my sovereign,) ere I move. 
 What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword 
 may prove. 
 
 Nor. Let nut my cold words here accuse my zeal : 
 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war. 
 The bitter clamour of Imo eager tongues. 
 Can arbitrate this cHuse l)ttwixt us twain: 
 'I'lie blood is hot that must be cool'd for this, 
 V et can 1 not nt such tame patience boast. 
 As to he husli'd, and nought at all to say: 
 First, the fair re\ertnce oi' your highness cubs me 
 From giving reins and spurs to my free speech 
 Which else would post, until it had return'd 
 These terms of treason doubled down his throat. 
 Setting aside his high blood's royalty. 
 And let him be no kinsuian to my liege, 
 I do defy him, and I spit at him ; 
 Call him — a slanderous coward, and a \illain: 
 Which to maintain, I would allow him odds; 
 And meet him, were I tied to run a- foot 
 Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 
 Or any other ground inhabitable. 
 Where ever Englishman dare set his foot. 
 Mean time, let this defend my loyalty, — 
 By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 
 
 Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw 
 my gage. 
 Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; 
 And lay aside my high blood's royalty. 
 Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: 
 If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, 
 As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop ; 
 By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, 
 VVill I make good against thee, arm to arm. 
 What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 
 
 Nor. I take it up ; and by that sword I swear. 
 Which gently lay'd my knighthood on my shoulder, 
 I'll answer thee in any fair degree. 
 Or chivalrous design of knightly trial : 
 And, when I mount, alive may I not light, 
 If I be traitor, or unjustly tight ! 
 
 /v. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbrajr's 
 It must be great, that can inherit us [charge? 
 
 So much as of a thought of ill in him. 
 
 Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove 
 it true ; — 
 That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand oobiea. 
 In name of leudings for your highness' soldiers; 
 The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, 
 Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. 
 Besides ) say, and will in battle prove^-— 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 303 
 
 Or liure, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge. 
 
 That ever was siirvey'd by English eye, — 
 
 That Jill the treasons, for these eighteen years 
 
 Complotted and contrived in this land. 
 
 Fetch froiii false Mowbray Iheiriiist head and spring. 
 
 Further I sny, — and further will maintain 
 
 FJpon iiis bad lile, to make all this good, — 
 
 That he did |jlot tlie duke of Gloster's death ; 
 
 Sugtfest his soon-believing adversaries; 
 
 And, consequently, like a traitor coward, 
 
 Sluic'd out his intiocent soul tlirouiih streams of 
 
 Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, [blood: 
 
 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, 
 
 'Jo me for justice, and rout;li chastisement; 
 
 And, by the glorious worth of my descent. 
 
 This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 
 
 K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars.'— 
 Tii'Mnas of Norfolk,.what say'st thou to this ? 
 
 Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face. 
 And liid his ears a little while be deaf, 
 Til! 1 iiave told this slander of his blood, 
 How (lod, and good men, hate so foul a liar, [ears: 
 
 K. Rick. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and 
 Were lie my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
 (As he is but my father's brother's son,) 
 Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow. 
 Such neiglibour nearness to our sacred blood 
 Slioiild nothing privilege him, nor partialize 
 The iinstooping firmness of my upright soul, 
 fie is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou; 
 free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. 
 
 Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart. 
 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! 
 Tiiree parts of that receipt I had for Calais, 
 Disbiirs'd 1 duly to his highness' soWiers; 
 The other part reserv'd 1 by consent ; 
 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt. 
 Upon remainder of a dear account. 
 Since la.st I went to France to fetch his queen : 
 
 Novr swallow down that lie. For Gloster's 
 
 death, 
 
 f .slew him not; but, to my own disgrace. 
 
 Neglected my sworn duty in that case. — 
 
 For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, 
 
 The honourable father to my foe. 
 
 Once did I lay in ambush for your life, 
 
 .\ trespass, that doth vex my grieved soul : 
 
 But, ere ! last receiv'd the sacrament, 
 
 I did confess it ; and exactly begg'd 
 
 Your grace's pardon, and, 1 hope, I had it 
 
 'J'his is my fault : As for the rest appeal'd. 
 
 It issues from the rancour of a villain, 
 
 A recreant and most degenerate traitor : 
 
 Which in myself I boldly will defend: 
 
 And interchangeably hurl down my gage 
 
 Upon this overweening traitor's foot. 
 
 To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
 
 Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom : 
 
 In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 
 
 Vour highness to assign our trial day. [me ; 
 
 K.Rich. Wrath kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by 
 Let's purge this choler without letting blood : 
 This we prescribe, though no physician; 
 Deep malice makes too deep incision: 
 Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ; 
 Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. — 
 Good uncle, let this end where it begun ; 
 We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. 
 
 Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my 
 age:— 
 Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. 
 
 K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. 
 
 Gaunt. When, Harry ? when ? 
 
 Obedience bids, I should not bid again. 
 
 K.Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid.; there 
 is no boot [foot ; 
 
 Nw. Myself I throw, dead sovereign, at thy 
 My life thou shalt command, but not my shame : 
 The one my duty owes; but my fair name, 
 C Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,) 
 
 To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not hov 
 I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; 
 Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom d 
 The vvliich no balm can cure, but his heart- 
 W hich breath'd this poison. 
 
 K. Rich. Rage must be withstood; 
 
 Give me his gage : — Lions make leopards tame. 
 
 Nor. \ ea, but not change their spots : take bo 
 my shame. 
 And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 
 The pinest treasure moital times aftord. 
 Is — spotless reputation ; that away, 
 Men are but gilded loani, or painted clay 
 A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd up cliest 
 Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breai^L 
 Mine honour is my ii.'e ; both grow in one ; 
 Take honour from me, and tny lile is done • 
 Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; 
 In that I live, and for that will I die. 
 
 K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage ; do 
 you begin. [sin ! 
 
 Bohny. O, God defend my soul from such foul 
 Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? 
 Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my hei};ht 
 Before this out-dar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue 
 Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong. 
 Or sound .so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
 'file slavish motive of recanting fear; 
 And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace. 
 Where shame doth harbour, even in i\Iowbray's 
 
 o'^^'"' [Exit Gaunt. 
 
 K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to com- 
 mand : 
 Which since we cannot do to make you friends. 
 Be ready, as your lives sliall answer it. 
 At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day ; 
 There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
 The swelling difference of your settled hate ; 
 Since we cannot atone you, we shall see 
 Justice desii;n the victor's chivalry. — 
 Marshal, command our olhcer at arms 
 Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II.— T/iP same. A Rootn in the Duke of 
 
 Lancaster's Pa/ace. 
 
 Enter Gaunt, and Duchess of Gloster. 
 
 Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood 
 Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims. 
 To stir against the butchers of his life. 
 But since correction lieth in those hands. 
 Which made the faidt, that we cannot correct. 
 Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ; 
 Who, \yhen he sees the hours ripe on earth, 
 Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. 
 
 Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? 
 Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ? 
 Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one. 
 Were as seven phials of his sacred blood. 
 Or seven fair branches springing from one root : 
 Some of those seven are dried by nature's course. 
 Some of those branches by the destinies cut! 
 But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, — 
 One phial full of Edward's sacred blood. 
 One flourishing branch of his most royal root, — 
 Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; 
 Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded 
 By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. 
 Ah, Gaunt ! his blood was thine ; that bed, that 
 
 womb, 
 That mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd thee, 
 Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, a'ud 
 
 breath'st. 
 Vet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent, 
 In some large measure, to thy father's death. 
 In that thou seest thy wretched brother die. 
 Who was the model of thy father's life. 
 Call it not patience. Gaunt, it is despair* 
 In suffering thus thy brother to be sfaughtpr'd, 
 'Hiou show'st the naked pathway to thy life. 
 Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: 
 
304 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act T. 
 
 That, which in mean men we entitle — patience, 
 Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
 What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life, 
 The best way is — to 'veii^e my Gloster's death. 
 
 Gaunt. Heaven's is tiie quarrel ; ibr heaven's 
 His deputy anointed in liis siglit, [substitute. 
 
 Hath caus'd his deatli: the wiiich, if wrongl'ully. 
 Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift 
 An angry arm agair.st his miuistt- r. 
 
 Duck. Where then, alas! may I complain my- 
 self;* [defence. 
 
 Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and 
 
 Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Cuunt. 
 Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold 
 Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight : 
 O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear. 
 That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! 
 Or, if misfortinie miss the first career. 
 Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, 
 That they niny break his foaming courser's back, 
 And throw the rider headlong in the lists, 
 A caititf recreant to my cousin Hereford ! 
 Farewell, old Gannt; thy sometiuie brother's wife. 
 With her companion grief must end her life. 
 
 Gaunt. .Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry : 
 As much good stay with tliee, as go with me ! 
 
 Duch. Yet one w<;rd more ; — Grief buundeth 
 where it fills. 
 Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: 
 I take my leave before 1 have begun; 
 For sorrow ends not, when it seenieth done. 
 Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. 
 Lo, this is all : — Nay, yet depart not so: 
 Though this be all, do not so quickly go ; 
 I shall remember mure. Bid him — O, what? 
 With all good speed at Flashy visit me. 
 Alack, and what shall good old York there see. 
 But empty lodgings and uufurnish'd walls, 
 Unpeopled oiiices, untrodden stones ? 
 And what cheer there for welcome but my groans? 
 Therefore commend me; let him not come there. 
 To seek out sorrow, that dwells every where : 
 Desolate, desolate, will 1 hence, and die ; 
 The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — Gosford Green, near Coventry. Lists 
 set out, and a throne ; Heralds, ^'c. attending. 
 
 Enter the Lord Marshal, ««</ Aumerle. 
 Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford 
 
 arm'd? 
 Autn. Yea, at all points ; and longs to enter in. 
 Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold. 
 Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. 
 
 Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and 
 For nothing bi't his majesty's approach. [stay 
 
 Flourish of trumpets. Enter King Richard, tvho 
 takes his seat on his throne; Gaunt, and several 
 Noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is 
 sounded, and ansivered by anot/ier trumpet 
 within. Then enter Norfolk in armour, pre- 
 ceded by a Herald. 
 
 K. Rich. Marsiial, demand of yonder champion 
 The cause of his arrival here in arms: 
 Ask him his name ; and orderly proceed 
 To swear him in the justice of his cause. 
 
 Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who 
 thou art. 
 And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms: 
 Against what man tiiou com'st, and what thy quar- 
 rel : 
 Speak trulv, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; 
 And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! 
 
 Nor. My iiaine is Thomas Mowbray, duke of 
 . Norfolk; 
 Who hither coint- engaged hv my oath, 
 
 t Which heaven deft-nd a kii'l^ht should violate !) 
 bth to delVnd my loyalty and truth , 
 
 d, my king, and my succeeding issue, 
 
 Against the duke of Hereford, that appeals me; 
 And, by the grace of God, and this tniuc aria. 
 To prove him, in defending of myself, 
 A traitor to my God, my king, and me: 
 And, as I truly fight, detend me heaven! 
 
 {He takes his seat.} 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter Bolingbroke in armour, 
 preceded by a Herald. 
 
 K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms. 
 Both who he is, and vvliy he cometh hither 
 Thus plated in habiliments of war ; 
 And fbrtiially, according to our law. 
 Depose him in the justice of his cause. 
 
 Mar. What is thy name ? and wherefore coui'st 
 thou hither. 
 Before king Richard, in his royal lists? [rel ? 
 
 Against whom comest thou ? and what's rhy qiiar- 
 Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven I 
 
 Holing. Harrv of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby 
 Am I ; who ready here do stand \v arms. 
 To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour 
 In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, 
 That he's a traitor, Ibul and dangerous. 
 To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; 
 And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! 
 
 Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold. 
 Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists ; 
 Except the maishal, and such officers 
 Appointed to direct these fair designs. 
 
 Boling. Jvord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's 
 And bow my knee before his majesty: [hand, 
 
 For Movi'bray, and myself, are like two men. 
 That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; 
 Then let us take a ceremonious leave, 
 And loving farewell of our several friends. 
 
 Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your high- 
 ness, 
 And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. 
 
 K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our 
 Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, [arms. 
 So be thy fortune in this royal fight ! 
 Farewell, niy blood ; which if it to-day thon shed, 
 Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. 
 
 Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear 
 For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear; 
 As confident, as is the i'alcon's flight 
 Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. — 
 My loving lord, [to Lord Marshal) 1 take my leave 
 
 of you ; — 
 Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle : — 
 Nor sick, although I have to do with death; 
 But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. — 
 Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet 
 'I'lie daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : 
 O thou, the earthly author of my blood, — 
 
 t7'o Gaunt.] 
 Whose youthful spirit, in me regeneraic, 
 Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up 
 To reach at victory above my head, — 
 Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers 
 And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, 
 That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat. 
 And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt, 
 Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. 
 
 Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make (liee 
 prosperous ! 
 Be swift like lightning in the execution; 
 And let thy blows, doubly redoubled. 
 Fall like amazing thunder on the casque 
 Of thy adverse pernicious enemy : 
 Rouse up thy youthful blood, be vali.int, and live 
 
 Boling. Mine inuocency, and Saint Georiir- f(, 
 thrive ! {H^ takef hit, se.i / 
 
 Nor. (Rising.) However heaven, or l0;'li.i.«-, c:ist 
 my lot. 
 There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne, 
 A loyal, just, and upright gentleman : 
 Never did captive with a freer heart 
 Cast off his chains of bondage, and embiaue 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING RICHARD 11. 
 
 clOS 
 
 His golden nncontroU'd enfranchisement, 
 More than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
 This feast of liatlle with mine adversary. — 
 Most mighty liege, — and ni)r companion peers, — 
 Take from my month the wish of happy years: 
 As gentle and as jocund, as to jest. 
 Go I to fight : Truth hath a quiet breast. 
 
 K. Rich. Farewell, my lord : securely I espy 
 Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. — 
 Order the trial, marshal, and begin. 
 
 { The King and the Lords return to their seats.) 
 
 Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 I'eceive thy lance; and God defend the right! 
 
 Baling. {Rising.) Strong as a tower in hope, I 
 cry — Amen. 
 
 Mar. Go bear this lance [to an Officer) to Tho- 
 mas, duke of Norfolk. 
 
 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself. 
 
 On pain to be found false and recreant, 
 
 To prov.e the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, 
 
 A traitor to his God, his ki'ig, and him. 
 
 And dares him to set forward to the figiit. 
 
 2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke 
 
 of Norfolk, 
 On pain to be found false and recreant, 
 f^-th to defend himself", and to approve 
 Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 'J o God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ; 
 Ccurageously, and with a free desire, 
 Altendin^ but the signal to begin. 
 
 Mar. Sound, trumpets ; and set forward, com- 
 ■ batants. {A charge sounded.) 
 
 iSXiiy, the king hath thrown his warder down. 
 K. Rich. Let them lay by their hehnets and their 
 spears. 
 Ami hofh return back to their chairs again : — 
 V\'itlidr;uv with us : — and let the trumpets sound, 
 "Wti'ie we return these dukes what we decree. — 
 
 [A Io7ig flourish.) 
 Drn\" ne^r, [To the Combatants.) 
 
 And list wijat with our council we have done, 
 '''or that our kiugdoui's earth should not be soil'd 
 W'itlj tliat dear blood, vt^hich it hath fostered ; 
 AuJ 'i'.'r our eyes do hate the dire aspect 
 Of civil wounds, plough'd up with neighbours' 
 
 swords ; 
 ,-\iid for we tl-ink the eagle- winged pride 
 Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, 
 \\ Itii ri\al-haUng envy, set you on 
 To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle 
 Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; 
 VV'hich, so rous'd up with boisterous untim'd drums, 
 Willi harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, 
 And grating shock of wrathful iron arms. 
 Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace. 
 And make us wade even in our kindred's blood ; — 
 riieretbre, we banish you our territories: 
 Vou, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death, 
 'I'ill twice five summers have enricii'd ourfield-i 
 Siiall not regreet our fair dominions. 
 Hut tread the stranger paths of banishment. 
 Holing. Your will be done : This must my com- 
 fort be, — 
 That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me ; 
 And those his golden beams, to you here lent, 
 Shall point on me, and gild my banishment. 
 li. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier 
 doom. 
 Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: 
 The fly-slow hours shall not determinate 
 The dateless limit of thy dear exile ; — 
 The hopeless word of — never to return 
 Breathe I against tnee, npon pain of life. 
 
 Hor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, 
 And all uniook'd for from your highness' mouth : 
 A dearer ment, not so deep a maim 
 As to be cast forth in the common air, 
 Have I deserved at your highness' hand. 
 The language 1 have learn'd these forty years. 
 
 My native English, now I must forego; 
 And now my tongue's use is to me no morfe. 
 Tiian an unstringed viol or a harp ; 
 Or, like a cunning instrument cas'd up 
 Or, being open, put into his hands 
 'J'hat knows no touch to tune the harmony. 
 Within my mouth you have engiiol'd my tongue. 
 Doubly nortcullis'd, with my teeth, and lips; 
 And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance 
 Is made ray gaoler, to attend on me. 
 I am too old to fawn upon a nurse. 
 Too far in years to be a pupil now ; 
 What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death. 
 Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? 
 K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate; 
 After our sentence, plaining comes too late. 
 
 Nor. Then tiiiis 1 turn me Iroui my country's light, 
 To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. 
 
 [Retiring. '. 
 K. Rich.Hetnvn again, and take an oath with thee 
 Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ; 
 Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, 
 (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) 
 To keep the oath that we administer: — 
 Vou never shall (so help you truth and heaven !) 
 Embrace each other's love in banishment ; 
 Nor never look upon each other's face ; 
 Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile 
 This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate, 
 Nor never by advised purpose meet. 
 To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 
 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. 
 Holing. I swear. 
 Nor. And I, to keep all this. 
 Baling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy;— 
 By this time, had the king permitted us. 
 One of our souls had wander'd in the air, 
 Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh. 
 As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : 
 Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm; 
 ' Since thou hast far to go, bear not along 
 The clogging burden of a guilty soul. 
 
 Nor. Nil, Bolinabroke ; if ever I were traitor, 
 My name be blotted from the book of life. 
 And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence I 
 But what thou art, heaven, thou, and 1 da know ; 
 And all too soon, I iear, the king shall rue. — 
 Farewell, my liew : — Now no way can I stray; 
 Save back to England, all the world's my way. 
 
 [Exit. 
 K.Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes 
 I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect 
 Hath from the number of his banish'd years 
 Pluck'd four away : — Six frozen winters spent, 
 Return [to Balitigbrolce) with welcome home from 
 banishment. 
 Baling. How long a time lies in one little word I 
 Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs. 
 End in a word : Such is the breath of kings. 
 
 Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regardof me, 
 He shortens four years of my sou's exile : 
 But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; 
 For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend. 
 Can change their moons, and bring their times about, 
 My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light. 
 Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; 
 My inch of taper will be burnt and done. 
 And blindfold death not let me see my son. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. 
 Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou caust 
 give : 
 Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow. 
 And pluck nights from nie, but not lend a morrow ■ 
 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage : 
 Thy word is current with bun for my death ; 
 But. dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 
 
 K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice 
 Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave ; 
 Why at our justice seem'st thou then to Kjwer? 
 
 20 
 
306 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove iu digestion 
 sour. 
 Von nrgVl nie as a judge; but I had rather, 
 Yod would Imve bid me argue bke a I'atlisr : — 
 O, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
 'Jo sinootii iiis fault I should have been more mild : 
 A partial slander sought I to avoid. 
 And in the sentence my own lile destroy'd. 
 Alas, I look'd, when some of yon should say, 
 I was ti;o strict, to make mine own away ; 
 But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue. 
 Against my will, to do myself this wrong. [so; 
 
 K. Rich. Cousin, farewell : — and, uncle, bid him 
 Six years we banish him, and he shall go. 
 
 [Flourish, Exeunt K. Richard and Train. 
 
 Aum. Cousin, farewell : what presencp must not 
 know, 
 From where yon do remain, let paper show. 
 
 Mar. My lord, no leave take I ; for I will ride, , 
 As far as land will let me, by your side. [words, 
 
 Gau7it. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy 
 That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ? 
 
 Bolijig. I have too few to take my leave of you, 
 When tiie tongue's office should be prodigal 
 To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. 
 
 Gaunt. Thy g-rief is but thy absence tor a time. 
 
 Baling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. 
 
 Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly 
 g<|/'e. [ten. 
 
 Boling. To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour 
 
 Gaunt. Call it a travel, that thou tak'st for plea- 
 sure. 
 
 Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so. 
 Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. 
 
 Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps 
 Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set 
 The precious jewel of thy honie-retm-n. 
 
 Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make 
 Will but remember me, what a deal of world 
 I wander from the jewels that I love. 
 Must 1 not serve a long apprenticehood 
 To foreign jjassages ; and iu the end. 
 Having my freedom, boast of nothing else, 
 But that I was a journeyman to grief? 
 
 Gaunt. All places, that the eye of heaven visits 
 Are to a wise n)an ports and happy havens : 
 Teach thy necessity to reason tiuis; 
 There is no virtue like necessity. 
 'l^liink not, the king did banish thee ; 
 Hntthou the king: Woe doth tlie heavier sit. 
 Where it percei»es it is but faintly borne. 
 Go, say — 1 sent thee forth to purchase honour. 
 And not — the king exil'd thee : or suppose. 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air. 
 And thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, iniagitie it 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: 
 Suppose the singing birds, musicians; [strew'd • 
 The grass, whereon thou treadst, the presence 
 I'he flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more 
 Than a delightful measure, or a dance : 
 For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
 'J'he man thit mocks at it, and sets it light. 
 
 Baling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
 Hy thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
 liy bare imagination of a feast ? 
 Or wallow naked in December snow, 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? 
 O, no! the apprehension of the good. 
 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
 Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more. 
 Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
 
 Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on 
 thy way : 
 Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. 
 
 Bvbng. 'Then, England's ground, farewell ; sweet 
 sod, adieu ; 
 My mother, and my ntirse, that bears me yet ! 
 
 Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, — 
 Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. 
 
 [F.xeunf, 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. A Room in the King's 
 Castle. 
 
 Enter King Richard, Bagot, and Green ; 
 A UMERLE following. 
 
 K. Rich. We did observe. — Cousin Anmerle, 
 How far brought yon high Hereford on his way :' 
 
 Aum. I broiiglit high Hereford, if you call him so, 
 But to the next highway, and there I left him. 
 
 K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears 
 were shed ? [wind, 
 
 Aum. 'Faith, none by me : except the north-east 
 Which then blew bitterly against our faces, 
 Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance. 
 Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. 
 
 K.Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted 
 with him ■? 
 
 Aum. Farewell : 
 And, for my heart disdained that my tongue 
 Should so profane the word, (hat taught me craft 
 To counterfeit ojipression of such grief, 
 That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. 
 Marry, would the word farewell have leugthen'd 
 
 hours. 
 And added years to his short banishment, 
 He should have had a volume of farewells ; 
 But, since it would not, he had none of me. 
 
 K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, 
 When time shall call him home from banishment, 
 \V hether our kinsman come to see his friends. 
 Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 
 Observ'd his courtship to the common people: — 
 How he did seem to dive into their hearts. 
 With humble and familiar courtesy; 
 What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; 
 Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft ol smiles. 
 And patient underbearing of his fortune. 
 As 'twere, to banish their attects vvith him. 
 OlFgoes his bonnet to an oyster- wench ; 
 A brace of draymen bid — God speed liim well, 
 And had the tribute of his supple knee, [friends; — 
 With — Thanks , my countrymen , my loving 
 As were our England \n reversion his, 
 And he our subjects' next<legree in hope. 
 
 Green. Well, he is gone ; and with him go these 
 thoughts. 
 Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland; — 
 Expedient manage must be made, my liege; 
 Ere further leisure yield tliem further means 
 For their advantage, and your highness' loss. 
 
 K. Rich. We will ourself in i)ersou to this war 
 And, for our coffers — with too great a court. 
 And liberal largess, — are grown somewhat light. 
 We are enibrc'd to farm our royal realm ; 
 The revenue whereof shall furnish us 
 For our affairs in hand : If that come short. 
 Our substitutes at home shall iiaie blank ih.irters : 
 Whereto, when they shall know what men'are ricii. 
 They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold. 
 And send them after to sup|)ly our wants ; 
 For we will make lor Ireland presently. 
 
 Enter Bushy. 
 
 Bushy, what news? fiord; 
 
 Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my 
 Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste. 
 To entreat your majesty to visit him. 
 
 K. Rich. Where lies he ? 
 
 Bushy. At Ely-house. [mii.d, 
 
 K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's 
 To help him to his grave immediately ! 
 The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
 To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. — 
 Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him : 
 Pray God, we may make haste, and conie too late ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 sor 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Room in Ely house. 
 
 Gaunt on a couch ; the Dide of York, and others 
 standitKj by him. 
 
 Gaunt. Will the king come ? that I may breathe 
 
 my last 
 [a wholesome counsel to his unstain'd youth. 
 
 York. Vex not youiselt", nor strive not with your 
 
 breath ; 
 For all in vaiu comes counsel to his ear. 
 
 Gaunt. O, but tliey say, the tongues of dying men 
 Enforce attention like deep harriiouy : 
 VV"here words are scarce, they are seldom spent in 
 
 vain ; [pain. 
 
 For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in 
 He. that no more must say, is listen'd more 
 Than they, whom youth and ease have taught to 
 
 glose; 
 More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before : 
 
 The setting sun, and music at the close, 
 As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; 
 Writ in remembrance, more thari things long past: 
 Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear. 
 My dcMth's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. 
 
 York. No ; it is stopp'd with other flattering 
 
 sounds. 
 As, praises of his stale : then there are found 
 Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound 
 'J'lie o|,en ear of youth doth always listen : 
 Report of fashions in proud Italy ; 
 W^hose manners still our tardy apish nation 
 Limps after, in base imitation. 
 Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, 
 fSo it be new. there's no respect how vile,) 
 That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? 
 Then all too late conies counsel to be heard. 
 Where wli doth mutiny with wit's regard. 
 Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; 
 'Tis breath thou lack "st, and that breath wilt thou 
 
 lose. 
 Gmtnt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd ; 
 And tliu.i, expiring, do foretell of him : 
 His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last; 
 For violent fires soon burn out themselves : 
 Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; 
 He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; 
 \Vitli eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder: 
 Light vanity, insatiate cormorant. 
 Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 
 This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle. 
 This earth of majesty, tliis seat of Mars, 
 This other Eden, demi-paradise ; 
 This fortress, built by nature for herself. 
 Against infection, and the hand of war; 
 This happy breed of men, this little world ; 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea. 
 Which serves it in the office of a wall, 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house. 
 Against the envy of less happier lands ; 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, 
 This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, 
 Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, 
 Renow ned for their deeds as far from home, 
 (For Christian service, and true chivalry,) 
 As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, 
 Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son: 
 'i'liis land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, 
 Hear lor her reputation through the world, 
 Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it) 
 Like to a tenement, or pelting farm : 
 England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
 W ho^e rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, 
 VVith inky blots, and rotten parchment bunds ; 
 That England, that was wont to conquer others. 
 Hath made a shameful conquest ot itself: 
 O, would the scandal vanisli with my life, 
 How happy then were my ensuing death ! 
 
 Enter King Richard, mid Queen; Aumeri.k 
 Bushy, Grebn, Ragot, Ross, and Wil- 
 
 LOUGHBY. 
 
 liork. The king is come : deal mildly with h 
 youth ; 
 For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. 
 
 Queen. How lares our noble uncle, Lancaster':' 
 
 K. Rich. What comfort, man '? How is't with aged 
 Gaunt ■? 
 
 Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition y 
 Old Gaunt, indeed ; and gaunt in being old : 
 Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ; 
 And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt'? 
 For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ; 
 Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt • 
 The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon. 
 Is my strict fast, I mean — my children's looks; 
 And, therein fasting, h;ist thou made me gaunt: 
 Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave. 
 Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. 
 
 K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their 
 names ? 
 
 Gaunt. No, n'.isery makes sport to mock itself; 
 Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, 
 1 mock mv name, great king, to flatter thee, [live? 
 
 K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those that 
 
 Gatint. No, no; men livins; flatter those that die. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st — thou fl:)t- 
 ter'st me. (be. 
 
 Gaunt. Ob ! no ; thou diest. though I the sicker 
 
 A"^. Rich. I am in health, 1 breathe, and see thee 
 ill. [thee ill J 
 
 Gaunt. Now, He, that made me, knows I see 
 III in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. 
 Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land, 
 \V herein thou best in reputation sick : 
 And thou, too careless patient as thou art, 
 Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure 
 Of those physicians, that first wounded thee ; 
 A thousand flatterers sit within thy crowq. 
 Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; 
 And yet, incaged in so small a verge, 
 "^I'he waste is no whit lesser than thy land. 
 O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye. 
 Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons. 
 From forth thy reach he woidd have laid thy shame ; 
 Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, 
 Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. 
 Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world 
 It were a shame, to let this land by lease : 
 But, for thy world, enjoying but this land. 
 Is it not more than shame, to shame it so? 
 Landlord of England art thou now, not king: 
 Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; 
 And thou 
 
 K. Rich. a lunatic, lean-witted fool. 
 
 Presuming on an ague's privilege, 
 
 Dar'st with thy frozen admonition 
 
 Make pale our cheek ; chasing the royal biood, 
 
 VVith fury, from his native residence. 
 
 Now by my seat's right royal majesty, 
 
 Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, 
 
 This tongue, that runs so roundly in thy head, 
 
 Shoidd run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders. 
 
 Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, 
 For that I was his father Edward's son ; 
 That blood already, like the pelican, 
 Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd: 
 ]\Iy brother Gloster, olain well meaning soul, 
 (X'v'lioiii fail befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!) 
 May be a ])recedent and witn^-ss good, 
 That tnou respect'st not sjiilling Edward's blood: 
 Join with the pres ■nt sickness that I have; 
 And thy unkindness be like crooked age, 
 To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower. 
 Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee !— 
 These words hereafter thy tormentors be ! — 
 Convey me to my bed, then to my grave; 
 Love tiiey to live, that love and hcuiour have. 
 
 [Exit, borne out bj his Attendants. 
 
308 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 K. Rich. And let tlieni die, tliat age and siillens 
 have ; 
 For both hast tlion. and both liecoiiie the grave. 
 
 Sfwi. 'Beseech your ni:ijesty, ini|)ute liis words 
 To wayward sickliness and age in iiiin : 
 He lo\es yon, on iny id'e, and liolds yon dear 
 i.3 Harry duke of \ lereliird, were lie here. 
 K. Rich. Jlight; yon say true: as Hereford's 
 love, so his ; 
 As tlieirs, so mine ; and ail be as it is. 
 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 
 North. My liege, old Gannt conimeuds liim to 
 yoiu' majesty. 
 
 A'. Rich. Wiiat says he now ? 
 
 North. Nay, nothing ; all is said : 
 
 Histongue is now a stringless ijistriinient ; 
 Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. 
 
 york. Be York the next tliat must be bankrupt so! 
 Thoii^rii death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. [he; 
 
 K. Rich. 'J'he ripest fruit first fails, and so dotii 
 His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be : 
 
 So much for that. Now for our Irish wars: 
 
 We nnist supplant those rough rug-headed kerns; 
 
 Which live like venom, where no venom else, 
 
 But only tliey, hatii pri\ilege toli\e. 
 
 And for these great atfairs do ask some charge, 
 
 'J'owards our assistance, we do seize to us 
 
 'I'he plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, 
 
 NVhereof our uncle Gannt did stand possess'd. 
 
 lori. How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long 
 Shall tender duty make me snller wrong ? 
 Not Crloster's deatli, nor flereford's banisliment. 
 Not (Jaunt's rebukes, nor Edward's private wrongs. 
 Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke 
 About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, 
 Have ever made me sour my patient cheek. 
 Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. — 
 I am the last of noble Edward's sons. 
 Of whom thy father, prince of VVales, was first ; 
 In war was ue\ er lion rag'd more fierce. 
 In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, 
 'i'han was that young and prmcely gentleman : 
 His face thon hast, for even so look'd he, 
 Accomplisii'd with the number of thy hours ; 
 But, when he frown'<l, it was against the Frepch, 
 And not against his iViends ; his noble hand 
 Did win %vhat he did spend, and spent not that 
 Which his triumphant father's hand had won: 
 His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood, 
 But bloody with the enemies of his kin. 
 O, Richard ! York is too far gone with grief. 
 Or else he never would compare between. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, uncle, what'.s the matter? 
 
 York. O, my liege, 
 
 Pardon me, if yon please ; if not, I, pleas'd 
 Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. 
 Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands, 
 The rovalties and ri^^hts of banish'd Hereford '? 
 Is not Oannt dead ? and doth not Hereford live ? 
 Was not Gannt just? and is not Harry true ? 
 Did not the one de.serve to have an heir ? 
 Is not liis heir a well deserving son ? 
 Take Hereford's right away, and take from time 
 His charters, and bis customary rights ; 
 Let not to-morrow then ensue to day ; 
 Be not thyself, for how art thou a kiu^, 
 But by fan- sequence and successi.m " 
 Now, afore God (God forbid I say irne !) 
 If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights. 
 Call in the lelters patent that he hath 
 By his attornies general to sue 
 His livery, and deny his otfer'd homage. 
 You pluck a thousand dangers on your head. 
 You lose a tliousand wplldisposed hearts. 
 And prick my tendrr patience to those thoughts. 
 Which honour and alle-iance cannot think. 
 
 K. Rick. Tliink what you will ; we seize into our 
 hands 
 His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. 
 
 York. I'll not be by, the while , My liege, fare- 
 well : 
 What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell ; 
 But by bad courses may be understood, 
 Tliat (heir events can never fall Out good. [Exit, 
 
 K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltsbirf 
 Bid him repair tn us to Ely-house, [straight 
 
 'I'o see tills business : To morrow next 
 We will tor Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trow; . 
 And we create, in absence of ourself. 
 Our uncle York lord governor of England, 
 
 For he is just, and always lov'd us well. 
 
 Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; 
 Be merry, for our time of stay is sliort. [Flourish. 
 
 [Excinit King, Queen, Bushy, Aumerle, 
 
 Green, and BckjoI. 
 
 North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is 
 dead. 
 
 Ross. And living too ; for now his son is duke. 
 
 Tf'illo. Barely in title, not in revenue. 
 
 North. Iviclily in both, if justice had her right. 
 
 Ross. My heart is great ; but it mnst break with 
 silence, 
 Ere't be disbnrden'd with a liberal tongue. 
 
 North. Nay, speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er 
 speak more. 
 That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm ! 
 
 Willo. Tends that, thou'dst speak, to the dnke 
 of Hereford ? 
 If it be so, out with it boldly, man ; 
 Quick is my ear to hear of good towards him; 
 
 Ross. No good at all, that I can do for hira. 
 Unless you call it good, \o pity him. 
 Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. 
 
 North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such 
 wrongs are borne. 
 In him a royal prince, and many more 
 Of noble blood in this declining land. 
 'i'lie king is not himself, bnt basely led 
 By flatterers ; and what they will inform. 
 Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all. 
 That will the king severely prosecute 
 Gainst ns, our lives, our children, and onr heirs. 
 
 Ross. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous 
 taxes. 
 And lost their hearts : the nobles halh he fiii'd 
 For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. 
 
 Willo. And daily new exai tiuns are devis'd ; 
 As blanks, benevolences, and 1 wot not what: 
 But what, o' God's name, doth become of this ? 
 
 North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he 
 hath not. 
 But basely yielded upon compromise 
 That, which his ancestors achiev'd with blows : 
 More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. 
 
 Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in 
 fitrm. [man. 
 
 Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken 
 
 North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over 
 him. 
 
 Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars. 
 His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, 
 But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. 
 
 North. His noble kinsman : most degenerate king ! 
 But lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing. 
 Y'et seek no shelter to avoid the storm ; 
 W^e see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 
 And yet we strike not, but securely peri.sh. 
 
 Ross. We see the very wreck that we must sutTer ; 
 ,\nd unavoided is the danger now. 
 For suffering so the causes of our wreck. 
 
 North. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of 
 I spy life peering : but I dare not say [dealh. 
 
 How near the tidings of our comfort is. 
 
 Willo. Nay, let us share thy tliough(s, as thou 
 dost ours. 
 
 Ross. Be c<mfident to speak, Northumberland: 
 We three are bnt thyself ; and, sjieaking so. 
 Thy words are but as thon^lits; tlifiefore, be bold. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING RIGHAED 11. 
 
 809 
 
 North. Then thus; — I hnve from Port le Diane, 
 In linUany, receiv'd intelligence, (a bay 
 
 That Harry Hereford, Heginold lord Cobham, 
 ['i'lie soti ol' Ricliard ear! of Arundel) 
 That hite broke fronj the didce i.f Exeter, 
 His brother, archbisho|) late of Canterbury, 
 Sir Tlioinas Erping;ham, sir Joini Rarnstou, 
 Sir John Norbery, siritobert Waterton, and Francis 
 
 Qiioiiit, — 
 All these well fnrnish'd by the dike of Bretngne, 
 Willi eight tall ships, three tiiousand men of war, 
 Are making lutlier with all due expedience, 
 And shoitly mean to touch ovir northern shore: 
 Perh:i|).s lliey had ere this; but tliat tlieystay 
 The tirst departing of thi' king for Ireland. 
 If then we shall sliiike oil oar slavish yoke, 
 Imp out onr droopiig country's broken wing. 
 Redeem iiom broking [lawn the blemish'd crowu, 
 Wipe oil the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt. 
 And make high majesty look like itself. 
 Away, vxith me, in post to Raienspurg : 
 But, it yon faint, as tearing to do so. 
 Stay, and be secret, anil myself will go. .[fear. 
 
 Ross. To horse, to horse ! urge doii()ts to them that 
 // ilio. Hold out, my horse, and 1 will lirst be 
 there., [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Tlie same. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter QueEiN, Bushy, and Bacot. 
 
 Biisliij. Madam, yonr majesty is too iiinch sad : 
 Yon promis'd, when yon parted with the king. 
 To lay aside life-harming lieavintss. 
 And entertain a cheerfnl disposition. [self, 
 
 Queen. To please the king, I did; to please my- 
 J ctniiot do it; yet i know no cause 
 AV^ny I should welcome snch a gnest as grief, 
 Save bidding larewell to so sweet a gi;est 
 As my sweet Richard : Yet, again, metliinks, 
 Some nntinrn sorrow', ripe in fortune's womb, ' 
 fs C(im;ng towards me; and my inward soid 
 W ith nolliing treniljles : at something it grieves, 
 Mine than with ])Mrting from niyloid the king. 
 
 Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty 
 shadows, 
 W'hicii show Kke grief it-^elf, bat are not so: 
 For soiTow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
 {divides one thing entire to many objects ; 
 Like persjiectives, which, riglitly gaz'd upon, 
 Show nothing but confusion ; ey'd awry, 
 Distinguish lorm : so your sweet majesty, 
 LooLiog awry upon your lord's departure. 
 Finds shap's of griefs, more than himself, to wail: 
 Which, looli'd on as it is, is nought but shadows 
 Of what is not. Then, thrice gracious queen. 
 More than your lord's dep;irtnre weep not; more's 
 
 not seea : 
 Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, 
 W'hich for things true, weeps tilings imaginary. 
 
 Q.ieen. It may be so ; but yet my inward soul 
 Persuades me, it is otherwise : Howe'er it be, 
 I cannot hut be sad , so heavy sad, 
 As, — tliougii, in thinking, on no tliouglit I think, — 
 Makes me with heavy notliing faint and shrink 
 
 llushy. ' lis notniiig but conceit, my gracious lady. 
 
 Qat^en. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd 
 From •ioine fore-lather gi'ief ; mine is not so; 
 For nothing hath begot my something giiet"; 
 Or something hath the nothing, tiiat I grieve: 
 'Tis in reversion, that I do possess; 
 fJut what it is, tint is not yet known: what 
 i cannot uaiue : 'tis nameless woe, I wot. 
 
 Enter GllEEN. 
 
 Green. God save your mi^esly 1 — and well iivet 
 gentlemen : — 
 9 hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. 
 
 Queen. Wliy hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope, he is ; 
 For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope; 
 Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ? 
 
 Green. That he, our hope, might have retird his 
 power. 
 And driven into despair an enemy's hope. 
 Who strongly hath set footing in this laud*. 
 The banish'd Bolingbroke ie|)Pals himself. 
 And with uplifted aims is safe arriv'd 
 At Ravenspurg. 
 
 Queen. Now God in heaven forbid 1 
 
 Green. O, madam, 'tis too true: and that is 
 worse, — (Percy, 
 
 The lord Norlliumberland, liis young son Henry 
 The lords of Ross, Beauinond, and Willoiigliby, 
 With all their povverfid friends, are fled to him. 
 
 Bushy. Why lia\e you not proclaimed Northuns- 
 berland, 
 -And all the rest of the revolting faction, 
 Traitors? 
 
 Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester 
 Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship. 
 And all the household servants fled with him 
 To Bolingbroke. [woe. 
 
 Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to uiy 
 And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: 
 Now hath my soul brought forth tier prodigy; 
 And I, a gasping new-Seiiver'd mother. 
 Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 
 
 Bushy. Despair not, madam. 
 
 Queen. Who shall hinder lae? 
 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 With cozening hojje ; he is a flatterer, 
 A parasite, a keeper-back of death, 
 W'lio gently would dissolve the bands of life. 
 Which false hope lingers in extremity. 
 
 Enter York. 
 
 Green. Here comes the duke of York. 
 
 Queen. With signs of war about hi.s aged neck; 
 
 O, full of careful business arc his lo^iks ! 
 
 Uncle, 
 
 For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words. 
 
 York. Should I do so, I siwnld belie my thoughts : 
 Comfort's in heaven ; and we are on the earth. 
 Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. 
 ^ (lur husband he is gone to save far off, 
 Wl'iist others come to make him lose at home: 
 Hf're am I left to underprop his land ; 
 
 Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: 
 
 Now comes the sick hour, that his surfeit made ; 
 Now shall he try his friends that llatter'd hiin. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. My lord, your son was gone before I came. 
 
 York. He was ': — why, so ! — go all which way 
 it will !— 
 The nobles they are fled, the commons cold. 
 And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. — 
 Sirrah, ' 
 
 Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster; 
 Bid her send me presently a tliousand pound ; 
 Hold, take my ring. 
 
 Serv. i\ly lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship; 
 To-day, as I came by, I called there ; — 
 But I shall grieve you to report the rest. 
 
 York. What is it, knave? 
 
 Serv. An hour before I came, (lie duchess died 
 
 York. God for his mercy I what a tide of woes 
 Comes rushing on this woeful land at once I 
 1 know not what to do: — 1 would to God, 
 (So my untruth had notpiovok'd him to it,) 
 Tue king had cut ofl'my head with my Jbrother's, — 
 W^iiat, are there jMsts despatch'd for Ireland? — 
 How shall we do lor money for these wars? — 
 Come, sister, — cousin, I would say : pray, pardon 
 me. — [some carts. 
 
 Go, fellow, {to the Servant) get thee home, provide 
 And bring away the armour that is there. — 
 
 [Exit Servamt. 
 Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? if 1 know 
 How, or which way, to older these aQ'uirs, 
 Thus thni-st disorderly into my hands, 
 
5iU 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen ; — 
 
 The due's my suvereign, whom bdfli my oath 
 
 And duty bids defend ; the other, again, 
 
 Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wiong'd : 
 
 Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. 
 
 Well somewhat we mnst do.— Come, cousin, I'll 
 
 Di.spose of you : — (Jo muster np yonr men, 
 
 And meet me |)resently at Berkley-castle. 
 
 1 .should to Piashy too ; — 
 
 IJdt time will not |iermit: — All is imeven, 
 
 And every thing is left at siix and seven. 
 
 [Exeunt York and Queen. 
 
 Bushy. The wind sits lair for news to go to Ire- 
 land, 
 But none returns. For ns to levy power, 
 Proportionable to the enemy, 
 Is all impossible. 
 
 Green. Besides, onr nearness to the king in love, 
 Is near the hate of those love not the king. 
 
 Bagot. And that's the wavering commons; for 
 their love 
 Lies in their pnrses; and whoso empties them. 
 By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. 
 
 Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally con- 
 demn'd. 
 
 Bagot. If judgment lie in them, tlien so do we. 
 Because we ever liave been near the king. 
 
 Green Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol- 
 The earl of Wiltshire is already there. [castle; 
 
 Bushy Tiiither will 1 with you : for little olKce 
 The hateful commons will perform ns ; 
 Except like curs to tear ns all in pieces. — 
 Will yon go along with us ? 
 
 Bagot. No; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. 
 Farewell; if heart's presages be not vain. 
 We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again. 
 
 Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bo- 
 lingbroke. 
 
 Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes, 
 I.s — numbering sands, and drinking oceans dry : 
 Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. 
 
 Bushy. Farewell at once ; lor once, for all, and 
 
 Green. Well, we may meet again, [ever. 
 
 Bagot. 1 tear rae, never 
 
 [ Exeunt, 
 
 ScE.VE III. — The TT'ilds in Glostershire. 
 
 Enter Bolingbroke and Northumberland, 
 with Forces. 
 
 Baling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now ? 
 
 North. Believe me, noble lord, 
 I am a stianger here in Cilostershire. 
 These high wild Inlls, and rough uneven ways. 
 Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome; 
 And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar. 
 Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
 But, 1 bt-thmk me, what a weary way 
 From Ravenspurg to Cotsvvold, will be found 
 In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company ; 
 Which, I protest, hath very mucii beguil'd 
 The tediousness and prucessof my travel : 
 But theirs is sweetenM with the hope to have 
 The present benefit, which I possess : 
 And hope to joy, is little less in joy. 
 Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords 
 Shall make their way seem short ; as mine hath done 
 By siijht of what I have, your noble company. 
 
 Baling- Of much less \alue is my company. 
 Than your good words. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Harry Percy. 
 
 North. It is my son. young Harry Percy, 
 Sent from my brother Wurct-ster, whencesoever. — 
 Harry, how fares your uncle ? 
 
 Percy. I Imd thought, my lord, to have learn'd 
 his health of you. 
 
 North. Why, is he not with the queen? 
 
 Percy. No, my good lord ; he h.ith forsook the 
 Rmkeu his stiff of ollice, and dispers'd [court. 
 
 The household of the king. 
 
 North. What was his reason ? 
 
 He was not so resolv'd, when last we spake together. 
 
 Percy. Because your lordship was proclaim'd 
 But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg, [tiaitor. 
 To offer service to the duke of Hereford : 
 And sent me o er by Berkley, to discover 
 What power the duke of York had levied there; 
 Then with direction to repair to Bavenspiirg. 
 
 North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, 
 boy V 
 
 Percy. No, my good lord ; for that is not forgot. 
 Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge, 
 I never in my life did look on him. [duke. 
 
 North. Then learn to know him now ; this is the 
 
 Percy. ]\ly gracious lord, I tender you my service. 
 Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; 
 Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm 
 To more approved service and desert. 
 
 Baling. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure, 
 I couiit myself in nothing else so happy, 
 As in a soid rememb'ring my good friends* 
 And, as my fortunes ripen with thy love. 
 It shall be still thy true love's recompense : 
 My heart this cov enant makes, my hand thus seals it. 
 
 North. How far is it to Berkley? And what stir 
 Keeps good old York there, with his men of war ? 
 
 Percy. There stands the castle,' by y(m tuft oi 
 trees, 
 Mann'd vvitli three hundred men, as I have heard : 
 And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and .Sey- 
 None else of name, and noble estimate. [mour ; 
 
 Enter Ross and Willoughby. 
 North. Here comes the lords of Ross and WiJ- 
 loughby. 
 Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. 
 
 Baling. Welcome, my lords : I wot, your love 
 A banish'd traitor; all my treasury [pursues 
 
 Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd. 
 Shall be your love and labour's recompense. 
 
 Ross. Yonr presence makes us rich, most noblf 
 
 lord. 
 Willo. And far surmounts onr labour to attain it. 
 Baling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the 
 poor .; 
 Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, 
 Stands for my bounty. But who comes here ? 
 
 '-Enter Berkley. 
 
 North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. 
 
 Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to yow 
 
 Baling. My lord, my answer i.s — to Lancaster; 
 And I am come to seek that name in England : 
 And I must find that title in yonr tongue, 
 Before I make reply to aught you say. [ing. 
 
 Berk. Mistake me not, my lord : 'tis not my meac- 
 To raze one title of your honour out : — 
 To you, my lord, I come, (what lord you will,) 
 From the most glorious regent of this land. 
 The duke of York ; to know, what pricks you ob 
 To take advantage of the absent time. 
 And fright our native peace with self-born arms. 
 
 Enter York, attended. 
 Baling. I shall not need transport my words by yo». 
 Here comes his grace in person. — My noble uncle ! 
 
 (Kneels.) 
 
 York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy 
 Whose duty is decei\ able and false. [knee 
 
 Baling. My gracious nude ! 
 
 York. Tut, tut ! 
 Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle ' 
 I am no traitor s uncle : and that word — grace. 
 In an ungracious mouth, is but profane. 
 Wliy have these banish'd and forbidden legs 
 Dar d once to touch a dust of England's ground ? 
 
 But then more wliy ; VVhy have they dar'd to 
 
 So matiy miles upon her peaceful bosom ; [march 
 
 Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war ; 
 
 And ostentation of despised arms? 
 
 Com'st thou, because the anointed king is hence? 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING RICHARD 11. 
 
 311 
 
 Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind. 
 Anil in my loyal bosoia lies his power. 
 \V>re i biit now the lord of . such iiot youth, 
 As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and iriyseif, 
 R.sciied the Black Prince, that yoiiiii,' M;irs of men, 
 FroMi forth the ranks'of many thousand French ; 
 (), then, how quickly shonid this arm of mine, 
 Now prisoner to the pals-y, chastise thee, 
 And minister correction to (hy I'aiilt ! 
 
 Bolinrj. My uracioiis uncle, ht rne know my fault 
 On what condition stands it, and wherein .'' 
 
 Yorlc. Even in condition of the worst degree, — 
 In gross rebellion, and detested treason: 
 '["hou art a banish'd man, and here ait come, 
 Oelore the expiration of thy lime. 
 In braving arms against thy sovereign. 
 Buling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Here- 
 lord ; 
 But as 1 come, I come for Lancaster. 
 And, noble uncle, 1 beseech your grace, 
 Look on niv wrongs with an indillerent eye : 
 You are my father, for, melhinks, in you 
 I see old Gaunt alive ; O, then, my father! 
 Will ynii permit that 1 shall stand condemn'd 
 A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royalties 
 Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away 
 'io upstart unthrifts? W^herefore was I born? 
 !f that niy cousin king be king of England, 
 U must be granted, I am the duke ol Lancaster. 
 Yon have a soi., Aumerle, my noble kinsman : 
 Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, 
 Ue should have i'ound his uncle Gaunt a father. 
 To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the bay. 
 I am denied to sue my livery here. 
 And yet my letters patent gi\e me leave : 
 My i'allier's goods are all tlistrain'd, and sold ; 
 And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd. 
 What woidd you have me do 'I I am a subject, 
 And challenge law : Attorneys are denied me ; 
 And therelbie personally I lay my claim 
 7'o my inheritance of free descent. 
 
 North. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd. 
 Ross. It stands your grace Ujion, to do him right. 
 K'illo. liase mtn by his endowments are made 
 
 gr at. 
 ICorlc. .My lords of England, let me tell you this, 
 I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs. 
 And labourd all I could to do him right: 
 But in tliis kind to come, in braving arms. 
 He his own carver, and cut out his way, 
 To find out right with wrong, — it may not be ; 
 And you, that do abet him in tliis kind. 
 Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. 
 
 North. Tlie noble dnke hath sworn, his coming is 
 But for his own : and, for the right of that. 
 We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; 
 And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. 
 
 York. Well, well, 1 see the issue oi tiiese arms ; 
 I carmot mend it, I must needs confess. 
 Because my power is weak, and all ill left: 
 But, if I could, by Him th.it gave me life, 
 ] would attach you all, and make you stoop 
 Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; 
 But, since I cannot, be it known to you, 
 I do remain as neuter. So, fare yon well; — 
 Unless you please to enter in the castle. 
 And there repose yoii tor this ni<;hf. 
 
 Baling- .\n olier, uncle, that we will accept. 
 But we must win your grace, to go with us 
 'J'o Bristol CJistle; which they say is held 
 •By Bushy, Bagut, and their complices, 
 The cater|)illars of the commonwealth. 
 Which I iiave sworn to weed, and pluck away. 
 York. It may be, 1 will go with you : — but yet 
 I'll pause ; 
 For I am loath to break our country's laws. 
 Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are : 
 Things past redress, are now with me past care. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 lScene IV. — A Catnp in Wales. 
 Enter Salisbury a7id a Captain. 
 
 Cap My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days. 
 And hardly kept our countrymen together. 
 And yet we hear no tidings from the king; 
 Therehire we will disjierse ourselves : farewell. 
 
 Sal. Stay yet another day, thou tru.«ty Welshman; 
 The king reposeth all his conKdence 
 In thee. [stay. 
 
 Cap. 'Tis thought the king is dead : we will not 
 The bay-trees in our country are wither'd. 
 And meteors fright the fixed starsof heaven : 
 The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth. 
 And lean look'd prophets whisper fearful change ; 
 Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, — 
 The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy. 
 The other, to enjoy by rage and war: 
 These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. — 
 Farewell ; our countrymen are gone and Hed, 
 As well assiir'd, Richard their king is dead. [Exit. 
 
 Sal. Ah, Richard I with the eyes of heavy mind, 
 I see thy glory, like a shooting star. 
 Fall to the. base earth Qoni the firmament ! 
 Thy sunsets weeping in the lowly west. 
 Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest: 
 Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; 
 And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [Exit, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene 1. — Bolijiybroke's Camp at Bristol. 
 
 Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, 
 Percy, Willoughcy, Ross : Officers behind, 
 ivith Bushy and Green, prisoners. 
 
 Baling. Bring forth these men. — 
 Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls 
 (Since presently your souls must part your bodies,) 
 VVith too much urging your pernicious lives. 
 For 'twere no charity : yet, to wash your blood 
 From off my hands, here, in the view of men, 
 I will unfold some causes of your death. 
 You have misled a prince, a royal king, 
 A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments. 
 By you unhappied antl disfigur'd clean. 
 You have, in manner, with your sinful hours. 
 Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; 
 Broke the possession of a royal bed. 
 And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
 With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. 
 Myself — a prince, by fortune of my birth; 
 Near to the king in blood ; and near in love. 
 Till you did make him misinterpret ine, — 
 Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, 
 And sijjli'n my English breath in foreign clouds, 
 Eating the bitter bread of banishment: 
 Whilst you ha\e fed upon my signories, 
 Dispark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods 
 From my own windows torn my household coat, 
 Raz'd out my im ress, leaving me no sign, — 
 Save men's opinions, and my living blood, — 
 To show the vvorld I am a gentleman. 
 This, and much more, much more than twice all this. 
 Condemns you to the death : — See them deliver'd 
 To execution and the hand of death. . [over 
 
 Biishij. More welcome is the stroke of death to nie. 
 Than Bolingbroke to lingland. — Lords, fiir -well. 
 
 Green. My comfort is, — that heaven will take our 
 souls. 
 And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
 
 Bolintj. My lord Northumberland, see them 
 despatclrd. 
 [Exeunt Northumberland and others, with 
 Prisoners. 
 Uncle, ynu say, the queen is at yoi r house ; 
 For heaven's sake, fairly let her he entreated: 
 Tell her, I send to her my kind cnniniends; 
 Take special care my greetings he deliverd. 
 
 York. A gentleman of maie I have despalch'd 
 With letters of your love to her at large. 
 
.^2 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act ITT. 
 
 _ Boling.Thnxiks, gentle uncle. — Come, lords, away; 
 To figbl -ivitl) Ulendower and liis coniplicfs : 
 Awhile lo work, and, afler, liolid.iy. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCF.NE U.— T/te Coast uffT-ales. A Castle in Vietv. 
 
 Flourish : Drums and Trumpets. Enter Kiriij 
 
 KicHAKD, Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, and 
 
 Soldiers. 
 
 K. Rich. BarkloHglily castle call you this at hand ? 
 
 Aum. Yes, my lord : How brooks yonr grace the 
 air, 
 Aflpr late tossing on the breaking seas ? [joy, 
 
 K. Rich. Needs must I like it v\ell ; I weep lor 
 To stand upon my kingdom once again. — 
 Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, 
 Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs : 
 As a lung parted mother witli her chihi 
 Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting; 
 So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth. 
 And do thee favour svith my royal hands. 
 Feed not thy sovereigns foe, my gentle earth. 
 Nor with thy s^v'eets comtbrt his rav'nous sense : 
 But let thy spiders, that siiek up thy venom. 
 And heavy gaited toads, lie in their way ; 
 Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet. 
 Which witli usurping steps do trample thee. 
 Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies: 
 And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, 
 Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; 
 Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
 Throw death npon thy sovereigns enemies — 
 Mock tiot my senseless conjuration, lords ; 
 This earth sliall have a feeling, and these stones 
 Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
 Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. 
 
 Bishop. Fear not, my lord ; that Power, that 
 made you king. 
 Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. 
 The means, that heaven yields, must be erabrac'd. 
 And not neglected; else, ii'heaven would. 
 And we will not, heaven's otfer we refuse; 
 The proffer'd means of succour and redress. 
 
 Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss ; 
 Whilst liolingbroke, through our security, 
 Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends. 
 
 K. Rich. Discotnfortable cousin ! know'st thou 
 not. 
 That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
 Behind tlie globe, and lights the lower world. 
 Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. 
 In murders, and in outrage, bloody here ; 
 But when, from under this terrestrial ball. 
 He fires the proud tops of the eastern |)ines. 
 And darts his light tlirough every guilty hole. 
 Then murders, treasons,- and detested sim. 
 The cloak of night being (iluck'd from off tlieir liacks, 
 ■Stand bare and naked, tre(nbling at themseKes? 
 So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, — 
 Who all-this while liath revell'd in the night. 
 Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes, — 
 Shall see us rising in our throne the east. 
 His treasons will Sit blushing in his face. 
 Not able to endure the siLilU of day. 
 But, self aifrighted, treuible at his sin. 
 Not all tlie water in the rough rude sea 
 Can wash the balm from an anouited king : 
 The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by tlie Lord : 
 For every man, that liolingbroke hath press'd. 
 To lilt shrewd steel against our gulden crown, 
 God for his Richard liatli in heavenly pay 
 A glorious aiigel ; then, if angels tight, [riglit. ' 
 
 VV'jak men must fall ; for heaven still guards the 
 
 Enter Salisbury. 
 Welcome, my lord ; How f,ir olF lies your power ? 
 
 Sal. Nor near, nor further oil', my gracious loril, 
 Thi:a this weak arm : Discouifi)rt giiides my tongue, 
 AnI buls u)e spetk of notiiiiig but despair. 
 One day too late, I tear, my noble lord 
 
 ' Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth; 
 
 (), call back yesterday, hid time leturn, 
 \ And thou siialt have twelve thonsaud fighting mea; 
 To day, lo day, miha|)|iy day, too late, 
 O'ertliious thy joys, f, lends, fortune, and thy slate; 
 For all the VVelslinien, hearing thou wcrt dead, 
 I .Are gone to Bolirjgbroke, dispers'd, and fled. 
 
 Audi . Coinlbrt, my liege : why looks your grace 
 
 so jiale ? [men 
 
 K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand 
 
 Did triumph in my face, and they are fled ; 
 And, till so much blood thither come again. 
 Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? 
 All souls, that will he safe, fly Irom my side ; 
 Fortune hath set a blot upon tny piide. 
 
 Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. 
 K. Rich. 1 had forgot myself: Am 1 not king? 
 Awake, thou sluggard majesly ! thou slecp'st. 
 Is not the king's name forty thousand names ^ 
 Arm, arui, my name ! a pmiy subject strikes 
 At thy great glory. — Look not to the ground. 
 Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high ':" 
 High be our thoughts: I kn( w, my uncle V»rk 
 Hath power enough to SM-ve our turn. But who 
 Conies here ? 
 
 Elder Scroop. 
 
 Scroop. More health and happiness betide my 
 liege. 
 Than can my ( are tiin'd tongue deliver him. 
 
 K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prejiar'd; 
 The worst is worl ily loss thou canst unfold. 
 Say. is my kingdo n lost? why, 'twas my care; 
 And what loss is it, to be rid of care .'' 
 Strives Boliogbroke to be as gieat as we ? 
 Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God, 
 We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so : 
 Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; 
 They break their faith to God, as well as us: 
 Cry woe, destruction, ruin, l.iss, decay ; 
 The worst is — death, and death will liave his day. 
 
 Scroop. Glad am \, that your highness is so arm'd 
 To bear the tidings of calamity. 
 Like an unseasonable stormy day. 
 Which makes the silver risers drown their shores. 
 As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears; 
 So high above his limits swells the rage 
 Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land 
 With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. 
 White-beards have arm'd their thin and iiairless 
 
 scalps 
 Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices. 
 Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints 
 In sfiir imwif Idy arms against thy crown : 
 Thy very beadsmen learn to bead their bows 
 Of double-fatal yew against thy stale; 
 Yea, distatf-women manage rusty hills 
 Against thy seat : both young and old rebel, 
 And all goes worse than 1 ha\e power to tell. 
 
 K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou lellst a tale 
 so ill. 
 Where is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? 
 What is bt'come of Bushy ? vvhere is Green? 
 'j'hat they have let the dangerous enemy 
 Measure our confines ivitii such peaceful steps? 
 If we prevail, their heads shall pay lor it. 
 I warrant, they have made peace with Holingbrokf . 
 
 Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed, 
 my lord. ((lemptiou 1 
 
 K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without re- 
 Dogs, easily won to fiwn on any man ! [he-.irt ! 
 Snakes in my heart-bl)od warin'd, that .sting m; 
 'I'hree Judasse*, each one thrice worse tliaii Jiid.isl 
 Would they make peace? terrible hell make war 
 Upon their'spolted souls for this olFence ! 
 
 Scroop. Swe/ftlove, I see, chanuinj; hispropert). 
 Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate : — 
 Ai;ain uncnrse their souls ; their peace is made 
 With heads, and not witli hands : those, whum yoa 
 / cuise. 
 
Scene 3, 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 813 
 
 •J 
 
 l>roke's, 
 
 Have fVlt (he worst of Heath's tlestroyina; wound, 
 A[id lie lull low. i;rav'd in the hollow gnmnci. 
 
 Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the eurl oi VVilt- 
 shire, dead ? [heads. 
 
 Scroop. Yea, all of them at Uri^ifol lost tlieir 
 
 Aum. VViiere is the duke my lallier with his 
 power ? [speak : 
 
 K. Rich. No matter where ; of comfort no man 
 L"t"s talk, ot ijraves, of worms, ;ind epitaphs; 
 Make (lust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Wiite siinow on the bosom of the eaitii. 
 Let's dionse executors, and talk of wills : 
 .A.nd yet not so, — for what can we bequeath. 
 Save our deposed bodies to the arouiul 
 Oi!< lands, om- lues, and all are Bohni; 
 And notliinjj can we call aiir own, hat death: 
 And that small model of the barren earth. 
 Which Serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For heaven's sake, let lis sit U|;on (he g;iound. 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings: — 
 How some have been deposd, some slain in war; 
 Some haunted by the gliosis they have depos'd ; 
 Some poison d by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
 All nnirder'd : — For within the hollow crown, 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king. 
 Keeps death his court : ani there the antic sits, 
 Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; 
 Allowing him a breath, a littlescene 
 To nionarciiize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; 
 Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 
 As if this flesh, which walls abont our life. 
 Were brass impregnable: and, hiimonr'd thus,. 
 Conies at the last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell, kingl 
 Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 With solemn re\erence; throw away respect. 
 Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 
 For you h >ve but mistook me all this while : 
 I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
 Need friends: — Subjected tliiis. 
 How can you say to nie — I am a king? [woes. 
 
 Car. ;My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present 
 But presently prevent the ways to wail. 
 To fear liie foe, since fear oppresseth strength, 
 Gives, in your weakness, strength imto your foe, 
 And so your follies fight against yourself 
 Fear, and l>e slain ; no worse can come, to fight: 
 And tiglit and die, is death destroying death ; 
 iVheie fearing dying, pays death ser\ile breath. 
 
 Aunt. My father hatli a power, enquire of him ; 
 And le.iru to iiuike a body of a limb. 
 
 K. Rich. Tnou chid'st me well : — Proud Boling- 
 broke, 1 come f 
 
 To change blows with thee for our d ly of doom. 
 This ague-fit of tear is over blown ; 
 An ea«iy task it is, to win our own. — 
 Say, Scrooj), where lies our uncle with his power ? 
 Speak sweetiy, in:in, although thy looks be sour. 
 
 Scroop. Men ju(i.;e by the complexion of the sky 
 Tile state and inclination of tlie day: 
 
 So may you by my dull and heavy eye, 
 .My tougiie hatii but a heavier tale to say. 
 I play the torturer, by small and small, 
 To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: — 
 Your uncle York hatli join'd with B.iiiugbruke ; 
 And all your northern castles yielded up. 
 And all your southern gentlemen in arms 
 Upon his party. 
 
 K. Rick. Thou hast said enough. — 
 
 Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth 
 
 [To Aumerle.) 
 Of that sweet way I was in to desjiair! 
 What say you now ? What comfort have we now ? 
 By hea-.en, I'll liate liiiu everlastingly. 
 That bids me be of comt'ort any more. 
 Go, to Flint castle; there I'll pine away: 
 A king, woe's slave, shall kiugly woe obey. 
 That pi wer, I have, discliurge ; and let them go 
 ']^o ear tlie land, that hath some hop" to grow. 
 For 1 have none : — Let no man speak again 
 
 I To alter this, for connse. is but vain. 
 I Aum. My liege, one word. 
 
 Is.. Rich. He does me double w;x)n^, 
 
 That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. 
 J)ischarge my followers, let them hence ; — Away, 
 From Itichard's night, to Bolingbioke's fail day. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene m.— Wales. Before Flint Castle. 
 
 Enter, with drum and colours, Boungbkoke and 
 Forces ; York, NoRTHUMBERL.\iSD, and others 
 
 Baling. So that by this intelligence we learn. 
 The Welshmen are dispers'd ; and Salisbury 
 Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed. 
 With some lew private friends, upon this coast. 
 
 North. Tne news is very fair and good, my lord, 
 Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. 
 
 liorlc. It vvould beseem the lord Nortliiimberlani], 
 To say — king llichard : — Alack the heavy day. 
 When sucli a sacred kmg should hide his heafl ! 
 
 North. \ our grace mistakes me ; only to be brief. 
 Left 1 his title out. 
 
 York, The lime hath been, 
 
 Would yon have been so brief with liim, he would 
 Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, 
 For taking so the head, your whole head s length. 
 
 Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you 
 should. Jshould, 
 
 \orh. Take not, good cousin, further than yoa 
 Lest you mis-take : The heavens are o'er your head 
 
 Bolitiy. I know it, uncle ; and oppose not 
 Myself against their will. — But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Percy. 
 
 Well, Harry : what, will not this castle yield ? 
 
 Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord. 
 Against thy entrance. 
 
 Baling. Royally '. 
 Why, it contains no king? 
 
 Percy. Yes, my good lord. 
 
 It doth contain a king : king Richard lies 
 Within the limits of yon lime and stone : 
 And with him are the lord. Aumerle, lord Salisbury, 
 Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman 
 Of holy reverence : who, I cannot learn. 
 
 North. Belike, it is the bishop of Cai lisle. 
 
 Baling. Noble lord, (To North.) 
 
 Go to the rjide ribs of that ancient castle ; 
 Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle 
 Into his riiin'd ears, and thus deliver. 
 Harry Bolingbroke 
 
 On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand; 
 And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart. 
 To his most royal person : hither come 
 Even at his feet to lay my arms and power; 
 Provided that, my banishment repeal'd, 
 And lands restor'd again, be freely granted: 
 If not, I'll use the advantage of my power. 
 And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, 
 Rain'd from the wounds of siaughter'd Knglishmen: 
 The which, how larofi'lrom the mind of Bolingbroke 
 It is, such crimson tenijest should bedrench 
 The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land. 
 My stooping duty tenderly shall show. 
 Go, signify as much; while here we march 
 Upon the massy carpet ol this plain. 
 
 {Northumberland advances to the casil8t 
 with a trumpet.) 
 Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, 
 That from the castle's totter'd battlements 
 Our fair ap|jointiiients may be well periis'd. 
 Melhinks, king Hichaid and myself should meet 
 With no less tenor than the elements 
 Of fire and water, when their thiind'ring shock 
 At meeting tears the cloudy chei ks of heaven. 
 Be he the fiie, I'll be the jieldiiig water: 
 The rage be his, while on the earth [ rain 
 jMy waters; on the earth, and not on hiia. 
 March on. and mark king Ilichurd how he looks. 
 
314 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 d. parte sounded, and ansivered by another trum- 
 pet within. Flmtrish. Enter on the walls 
 King Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Au- 
 auiRr>E, Scroop, ««</ Salisbury. 
 
 York. See, see, kins: Richard doth himself appear, 
 A* doth the bhishing discontented sun 
 From out the fieiy portal of the east ; 
 When lie perceives the envious clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
 Of his bi in ht passage to the Occident. 
 Vet looks he like a king ; behold his eye. 
 As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth 
 Controlling majesty ; Alack, alack, for woe, 
 That any harm should stain so (air a show ! 
 
 K. Rich. We are amaz'd ; and thus long have 
 we stood 
 To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, 
 
 (To Northumberland.) 
 Because we thought onrself thy lavvliil king: 
 And if we be, how dare thy joints lorget 
 To pay their awful duty to our presence ? 
 If we be not, show us the hand of God 
 That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship: 
 For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
 Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre. 
 Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 
 And tliough you think, that all, as you have done. 
 Have torn their suuls, by turning them from us, 
 And we are barren, and bereft of friends; — 
 Yet know, — my master, God omnipotent. 
 Is mustering in his clouds, on our behalf", 
 Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 
 Y'our ciiildren yet unborn, and unbegot, 
 That lift your vassal hands against my head. 
 And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
 Tell Rolingbroke, (for you'd', metliiuks, he is,) 
 That every stride he makes upon my land. 
 Is dangerous treason : He is come (o ope 
 The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
 But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, 
 I'en thousand bloody crowns of mother's sous 
 Shall ill become the flower of England's face ; 
 Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
 To scarlet indignation, and bedew 
 Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. 
 
 North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the 
 Should so with civil and uncivd ar/ns [king 
 
 Be lush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin, 
 Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; 
 And by the honourable tomb he swears, 
 That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones, 
 And by the royalties of both your bloods. 
 Currents, that spring from one most gracious head; 
 And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt ; 
 And by the worth and honour of himself, 
 Comprising all tiiatniriy be sworn or said, — t 
 His coming hither hath no further scope. 
 Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
 Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: 
 Which on tliy royal party granted once, 
 His glittering arms he will commend to rust. 
 His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
 To faithful service of your majesty. 
 This swe;irs he, as he is a prince, is just; 
 And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. 
 
 K. Rich. Noi thuinberlaud, say, — thus the king 
 returns ; — 
 His noble cousin is right welcome hither; 
 Ani all the number of his fair demands 
 Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction : 
 With alt the gi acinus utteran<?e thou hast, 
 I'peak to his gent!e hearing kind commends. — 
 We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, 
 
 (T'o Aumerle.) 
 To look so poorly, and to speak so f ;iir ? 
 Shall we call buck Northumberland, and send 
 Defi.ince to tUr traitor, and so die '! 
 
 Aifin. No, u()(,d my lord ; lets fi-lit with gentle 
 words. 
 
 Till time lend fiiends, and friends their helpflil 
 swords. [of mine, 
 
 K. Rich. O God ! O God ! that e'er this tongue 
 That laid the sentence of dread banishment 
 On yon proud man, should take it off again 
 With words of sooth ! O. that I were as great 
 As is my grief, or lesser than my name ! 
 Or that I could forget what 1 have been ! 
 Or not remember what I must be now I 
 Sweli'st thou, proud heart'!* I'll give thee scope to 
 
 beat. 
 Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. 
 
 Aum. Northumberland comes back from Boling- 
 broke. [he submit? 
 
 K. Rich. What must the king do now ? Must 
 The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd ■* 
 'I'he king shall be contented. Must he lose 
 The name of king ? o'God's name, let it go 
 I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads; 
 My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage ; 
 IMy gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ; 
 My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood ; 
 My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staif; 
 My subjects, for a pair of carved saints; 
 And my large kingdom lor a little grave, 
 A little little grave, an obscure grave : — 
 Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, 
 Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet 
 May hourly trample on their sovereign's head : 
 For on my heart they tread, now vvhilst 1 live ; 
 And, buried once, why not upon my head? — 
 Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cou- 
 sin ! — 
 We'll make foul weather with despised tears; 
 Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, 
 And make a dearth in this revolting land. 
 Or shall we play the wantons with cur woes. 
 And make some pretty match with shedding tears? 
 As thus; — To drop them still upon one place. 
 Till they iiave fretted us a pair of graves 
 VVithin the earth : and, therein laid, — There lies 
 Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves ivith weeping 
 
 eyes ? 
 Would not this ill do well'/ — Well, well, I see 
 I talk but idly, and you mock at me. — 
 IMost mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, 
 What says king Bolingbroke ? will his majesty 
 Give Richard leave to live, till Richard die V 
 Vnu make a leg, and Bolingbroke says — ay. 
 
 North. My lord, in the base court !;e di.th attend 
 Ta speak with you ; may't please you to conie down? 
 
 K.Rich. Down, down, I come: like glistering 
 i^haeton. 
 Wanting the manage of unruly jades. 
 
 (North, retires to Boling.J 
 In the base court? Base court, where kings grow 
 
 base, 
 To come at traitors' calls, and do them g>-ace. 
 In the base court ? Come down ? Down court ! 
 
 down king ! 
 For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should 
 sing. [Exeunt, from above. 
 
 Bo/ing. Vv hat says his majesty "i" 
 
 North. Sorrow and grief of heart 
 
 Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man: 
 \ et he is come. 
 
 Enter King Richard, and his Attendants below. 
 
 Boling. Stand all apart, 
 .•\nd show fair duty to his majesty. — 
 Mv gracious lord,— (Kneeling.^ 
 
 K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely 
 knee. 
 To make t/he base earth proud with kissing it : 
 Me rather had, my heart might feel your lu\e. 
 Than my unpleas d eye see your courtesy. 
 Up, cousin, up ; your heart is up, I know, 
 Tlius higli at WAsi.(touchi7ig his own /ieat/,);iltl)ougb 
 your knee be low. 
 Boling.'My gracious lord, I come but for uiine owd 
 
Act IV. Scene 1, 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 315 
 
 K. Rick. Your own is yours, and I am yours, 
 and all. 
 
 Baling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, 
 As my true service shall deserve your love. 
 
 K. Rich. Well you deserve : — They well deserve 
 to ha»e. 
 That know the slrong'st and surest way to get. — 
 Uncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes. 
 Tears show their luve, but want their remedies. — 
 Cousin, I am too young to be your father, 
 Though you are old enough to be my heir. 
 What you will have, I'll give, and willing too ; 
 For do we must, what force will have us do. — 
 Set on towards London : — Cousin, is it so ? 
 
 Baling. Yea, my good lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Then I must not say, no. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 Sc£N£ I V. — Langley. The Duke of York's Garden. 
 
 Enter the QuEEN, and two ladies. 
 
 Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this 
 garden. 
 To drive away the heavy thought of care? 
 
 J Lady. iMadam, we'll i)iay at bowls. 
 
 Queen. 'Twil! make me think. 
 
 The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune 
 Runs 'gainst the bias. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, we will dance. 
 
 Queen. M\ legs can keep no measure in delight, 
 VVhen my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: 
 Therefore, no dancing, girl ; some other sport. 
 
 I Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. 
 
 Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy ? 
 
 1 Lady. Of either, madam. 
 
 Queen, Of neither, girl : 
 
 For if of joy, being altogether wanting. 
 It doth remember me the more of sorrow ; 
 Or if of grief, being altogether had. 
 It adds more sorrow to my want of joy : 
 For what 1 have, I need not to repeat; 
 .4nd what I want, it boots not to complain. 
 
 1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis well that thou hast cause ; 
 
 Knt thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou 
 
 weep. [good. 
 
 1 hady. I could weep, madam, would it do you 
 
 Queen. And I could weep, woidd weeping do me 
 And never borrow any tear of thee. [good. 
 
 But stay, here come the gardeners : 
 Let'.s step into the shadow of these trees. — 
 
 Enter a Gardener, and two Servants. 
 My wretchedness unto a row of pins, 
 'I'hey'li talk of state ■ for everyone doth so 
 Agiiinst a change : Woe is forerun with woe. 
 
 [Queen and Ladies retire.) 
 
 Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks. 
 Which, like unruly children, make their .sire 
 Stoop with opjjression of their prodigid weight: 
 Give some supportance to the bending twigs. — 
 Go thou, and, like an executioner. 
 Cut off tlie heads of too-fast-growing sprays, 
 'J'liat look too lofty in the commonwealth : 
 All nmst be even in our government. — 
 You thus employ'd, I will go root away 
 Tiie noisome weeds, that without profit suck 
 'i'he soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 
 
 1 Serv. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, 
 Keep la\v, and (orm, and due proportion. 
 Showing, as in a model, our firm estate ? 
 VVhen our sea-walled garden, the whole land. 
 Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd up. 
 Her fruit trees ail unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd. 
 Her knots disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs 
 .Swarming with caterpillars? 
 
 Gard. Hold thy peace :— 
 
 \\y, that hath suifer'd this disorder'd sprmg. 
 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf : 
 The weeds, tiiat his broad spreading leaves did 
 shelter. 
 
 That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, 
 Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke; 
 I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
 
 1 Serv. What, are they dead ? 
 
 Gard. They are ; and Bolingbroke 
 
 Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. — Oh ! wiiat pity is it. 
 That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his laud. 
 As we this garden ! We at time of year 
 Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; 
 Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood. 
 With too much riches it ctmfound itself: 
 Had he done so to great and growing men. 
 They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste 
 Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches 
 We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : 
 Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, 
 Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. 
 
 1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be 
 depos'd '? 
 
 Gard. Depiess'd he is already ; and depos'd, 
 'Tis doubt, he will be : Letters came fist night 
 To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, 
 That tell black tidings. 
 
 Queen. O, I am press'd to death. 
 
 Through want of speaking I — 1 hou, old Adam's 
 likeness, [Comingfrom her concealment.) 
 Set to dress tiiis garden, how dares 
 Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ? 
 What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee 
 To make a .second fall of cursed man? 
 VVhy dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd? 
 Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, 
 Divine his downfall ? Say, where, when, and how, 
 Cam'st thou by these ill- tidings? speak, thou wretch. 
 
 Gard. Pardon me, madam : little joy have I, 
 To breathe this news ; yet, what 1 say, is true. 
 King Richard, he is in the mighty hold 
 Of Bolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weigh'd : 
 In your lord's scale is nothing but himself. 
 And some few vanities, that make him light; 
 But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, 
 Besides himself, are all the English peers, 
 And with that odds he weighs king Richard djwii. 
 Post you to London, and you'll find it so ; 
 I speak no more than every one doth know. 
 
 Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot. 
 Doth not thy embassage belong to me. 
 And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st 
 To serve me last, that I may longest keep 
 Thy sorroA' in my breast. — Come, ladies. 
 To meet at London London's king in woe.- 
 What, was I born to this ! that my sad look 
 Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? 
 Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, 
 I would, the plants thou gralt'st, may ne\er ajrovv. 
 [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
 
 G$ird. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no 
 worse, 
 I would, my skill were subject to thy curse. — 
 Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place, 
 I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace : 
 Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, 
 In the remembrance of a weeping queen. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. —London. Westminster Hall. The Lords 
 spiritual on the right of the throne ; the Lords 
 temporal on the left ; the Commons below. 
 
 Ewl'pr BoLlNGBnOKE, AUMERLE, SuRREY. NORTH- 
 UMBERLAND, Percy, Fitzwater, another Lord, 
 Bishop of Carlisle Abbot of Westminster, 
 and Attendants. Officers behind with Bagot. 
 
 Baling. C.dl f .rtli Bagot:— 
 Now, Bagiit, I'reely speak thy mind; 
 What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; 
 VViio wrouglit it with the king, and who prrforra'd 
 Tiif bloody olHce of his timeless end. 
 
 Bagot. Thru sit before my face the lord Aumerle. 
 
 go. 
 
316 
 
 KING RICPIARD 11. 
 
 Act IV, 
 
 Baling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that 
 man. [tongue 
 
 Barjot My lord Auinerle, I know your daring 
 Scoros to unsay what once it hatli drliver'd. 
 In that dead time, when Gloster's deatli was plotted, 
 I heard you say, — Is 7iot my arm of length, 
 Tluit reacheth from the restful English court 
 As far as Calais, to my uncle's head! 
 Amongst much other talk, tliat very time, 
 I heard you say, that you had rather refuse 
 The oiler of an hundred thousand crowns. 
 Than Boliiighroke's return to England ; 
 Adding withal, how blest this land would be. 
 In this your cousin's death. 
 
 Aum. Princes, and noble lords, 
 
 What answer shall I make to this base man ? 
 Shall I so much dishonour niy fair stars. 
 On equal terms toftive him chasiisement? 
 Either I must, or have mine honour soii'd 
 With the attainder of his sland'rons lips. — 
 Tiiere is my gage, the manual seal oi death. 
 That marks taee out tor hell : I say, thou best. 
 And will maintain what thou hast said is false, 
 Jn thy heart-blood, though being all too base 
 To stain the ti-mper of my knightly sword. 
 
 Baling. Bitgot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. 
 Auin. Excepting one, I would he were the best 
 In all tiiis presence, that hath movd me so. 
 
 Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies. 
 There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : 
 By that iairsim, that shows me where thou stand'st, 
 I heard tiiee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, 
 That thou wert cause of nol)le Olosters death. 
 If th lu deny'st it, twenty times thou liest; 
 And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart. 
 Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. 
 
 Amn. Thou dar'st not, coward, li» e to see that day. 
 Fitz. Niiw, by my soul, 1 would it were this hour. 
 Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. 
 Percy. Aumerle, thou liest ; his iionour is as tri:e. 
 Id this appeal, as thou art all unjust: 
 And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, 
 To prove it on thee, to the extremest point 
 Of mortal breathing; seize it, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Aum. .And if I do not, may my hands rot ort". 
 And never branflish more revengeful steel 
 Over the glittering helmet of my foe ! [Aumerle : 
 Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn 
 And spur thee on with full as many lies 
 As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear 
 From sun to sun : there is my honour's pawn ; 
 Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. [at all : 
 
 Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw 
 I have a thousand spirits in one breast. 
 To answer twenty thousand such as you. 
 
 Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well 
 The very time Aumerle and you did talk. [t^en; 
 Fitz. My lord, 'tis true : you were in presence 
 And you can witness with me this is true. (true. 
 Surrey. As fdse, by heaven, as heaven itself is 
 Fitz. Surrey, thou best. 
 
 Surrey. Dishonourable boy I 
 
 That lie siiall lie so heavy on my sword. 
 That it shall render vengeance and revenge, 
 rill thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie 
 In earth as quiet as thy father's scull. 
 In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; 
 Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse ! 
 If 1 dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 
 I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness. 
 And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies. 
 And lies, and lies : there is my bond of faith, 
 To tie thee to my strong correction. — 
 As I intend to tliri>e in' tliis Uf-w world, 
 Aumerle is gmlty of my true ap .eal : 
 Besides, I liiard tiie banish'd Norfilk say, 
 rhat tiioii, .\iiinerle, dnlst send two of t'tiy men 
 lo execute the noble dulie at Calais. 
 
 Aum. Some honest Christian tr.ist m witli a gage, 
 
 That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this. 
 If he may be repeai'd to try his honour. [F^*« 
 
 Bolijig. These ditferences shall all rest unaer 
 Till Norfolk be repeald : repeai'd he shall be. 
 And, though mine enemy, restbr'd again 
 'Jo all his land and signories; when he's return'd; 
 Against Aumerle we will enforce this trial. 
 
 Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.— 
 JMany a time hath banish'd Norfolk ibnght 
 For Jesu Christ; in glorious Christian field 
 Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross 
 Against black Pagans, 'j'urks, and Saracens: 
 .^nd, toil'd with works of war, retir'd liims-elf 
 To Italy; and there, at Veuic, gave 
 His body to that pleasant country's earth, 
 And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, 
 Under whose colours he had loiight so long. 
 Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead i" 
 Car. As sure as I live, my lord. [bosom 
 
 Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the 
 Ol good did Abraham ! — Lords appellants, 
 \ our dill'erences shall all rest under gage 
 Till we assign you to your days ol trial. 
 
 Enter York, attended. 
 
 Yorh. Great duke of Lancaster, 1 come to thee 
 From plume plui-k'd Richard; who with willing soul 
 Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
 To the possession of thy royal hand : 
 Ascend his throne, descending novv from him, — 
 And long live Henry, ol that name the fourth! 
 Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal 
 Car. Marry, God forbid ! — [throne. 
 
 Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
 Y et best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
 Would God, that any in this noble presence 
 Were enough noble to be upright jiulge 
 Of noble Richard; then true nobless would 
 Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
 What subject can give sentence on his king ? 
 And who sits here that is not Richaid's subject? 
 Thiei'es are not jiidg'd, but they are by to hear. 
 Although apparent guilt be seen in them. 
 And shall the figure of God's majesty. 
 His captain, steward, deputy elect. 
 Anointed, crowned, planted many years. 
 Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath. 
 And he himself not present'? O, Ibrbid it, God, 
 That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd 
 
 Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! 
 I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
 
 Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly liti his king. 
 My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king. 
 Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : 
 
 And if you crown him, let me prophesy, — 
 Tlie blood of English sliall manure the ground., 
 
 And future ages groan for this foul act; 
 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels. 
 
 And, in this seat of |)eace, tumult. lous wars 
 
 Shall kin wiih kin, and kind with kind confound; 
 
 Disorder, horror, (ear, and mutiny. 
 
 Shall here inhabit, and this land be cali'd 
 
 The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls. 
 
 O, if you rear this house against this house. 
 
 It will the woefullest division proie, 
 
 That ever fell upon this cursed earth : 
 
 Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, 
 
 Lest child, child's children, cry against you — woe ! 
 North. Well have you argu'd, sir; and, for your 
 pains, 
 
 Ofcapital treason we arrest you here : — 
 
 My lord of Westminster, be i} your charge 
 
 'J'o' keep him safely till his day of trial. — 
 
 May it please you, lords, to grant the coinuions' suit? 
 Boling. VflcU hither Richard, thatincouiiiiou view 
 
 He may'surreirdrr; so we shall proceed 
 
 Without sus[n(.ioi!. 
 
 York. I will be his conduct. \Ej(it. 
 
 Boling. Lords, yon that are here under our .iiresl, 
 
 Procure your snrelit'S lor your davs ol answer: — 
 
SCEXE 1. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 817 
 
 LittJe are we beholden to your love, [To Carlisle.) 
 And little look'd lor at your helping hands. 
 
 Re-enter Yokk, ivith King Richard, and Officers 
 bearing the crown, §)'c. 
 
 K. Rich. Alack, wiiy am I sent i'or to a king. 
 Before I have shook oil' the regal thoughts 
 Wherewith I rei^n'd ;' I hardly yet have learn'd 
 To insiiiiiale, llatter, bow, and bend my knee : — 
 Give sorrow leave a while to tutor n)e 
 To this suhmissioii. Yet I well remember 
 'I'he I'aNoiirs ot these men : Were they not mine? 
 Did they iiut sometiiDe cry, all hail! tome? 
 So Jndus did to Christ : but he, in twelve. 
 Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve thousand, 
 
 none. 
 God save the king! — Will no man say amen ? 
 Am I both priest and clerk ? well tiien, ameu. 
 God save the king! although I be not he ; 
 And yet, amen, it' heaven do think him me. — 
 To do what service am I sent 'lor hitiier ? 
 
 York. To do that office, of thine own good will. 
 Which tired majesty did make thee oii'er, — 
 The resignation of tliy state and crown 
 To Heniy liolingbroke. [seize the crown ; 
 
 K. Rich, Give me the crown : — Here, cousin. 
 Here, on tliis side, my hand ; on that side, thine. 
 Now is this golden crown like a deep well, 
 That owes two buckets filling one another; 
 The emptier ever dancing in the air, 
 'I'he other down, unseen, and full of water: 
 The bucket down, and full of tears, am I, 
 Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. 
 
 Baling. 1 thought you had been willing to resign. 
 
 A'. Rich. My crown I am; but still my griefs are 
 You may my glories and my state depose, [mine : 
 13ut not my griefs ; still am £ king of those. 
 
 Baling. Part of your cares you give me with your 
 . crown. [down. 
 
 K. Rich. \ our cares, set up, do not pluck my cares 
 My care is' — loss of care, by old care done ; 
 Your care is — gain of care, by new caie won : 
 The cares I give, 1 have, though given away; 
 Tliey tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. 
 
 Baling. Are you contented to resign the crown? 
 
 K. Rich. Ay, no; — no, ay: — lor I must nothing 
 Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. [be; 
 
 Now mark me how 1 will undo myself:' — 
 
 I give this heavy weight from off my head. 
 And this unwieldy sceptre from my liand. 
 The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; 
 With mine own tears I wash away my balm. 
 With mine own hands I gi\e away my crown, 
 With mine own tongue deny my sacred state. 
 With mine own breath release all duteous oaths : 
 All pomp and majesty I do forswear; 
 
 My manors, rents, and revenues, 1 ibrego; 
 My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny : 
 God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me ! 
 God keep all vows iinbroke, are made to thee! 
 Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd ; 
 And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd! 
 Long iiiay'st thou live in Richard's seat to sit. 
 And soon lie Kichard iu an earthly pit! 
 God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says. 
 And send iiiiii many years of sunshine days! 
 Wliat more remains? 
 
 North. No more, but that you read 
 
 {Offering a paper.) 
 These accusations, and these grie\ous crimes, 
 Committed by your person, and your followers. 
 Against the state and profit of this land; 
 That, by confessing them, the souls of men 
 May ut-eiii that you are worthily depos'd. 
 
 K. Rich. Must I do so? and must I ravel out 
 My weav'd up hillies? Gentle Norlhnaiberland, 
 
 II thy olf'ences were upon record. 
 
 Would it not shame tuee, in so lair a troop. 
 To read a Ir-ctnie of tliem ? Jf thou wouldst, 
 Tbere shouhlst thou find one heinous article, — 
 
 Containing the deposing of a king. 
 And cracking the strong warrant of an oath.— 
 Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:— 
 Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, 
 Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself. 
 Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hacds. 
 Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates 
 Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross. 
 And water cannot wash away your sin. 
 
 North. My lord, despatch ; read o'er these articles, 
 
 K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see; 
 And yet salt water blinds them not so much. 
 But they can see a sort of traitors here. 
 Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
 I find myself a traitor with the rest: 
 For I have given here my soitl's consent, 
 To undeck the pompous body of a king ; 
 Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave; 
 Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant. 
 
 North. My lord, — [man, 
 
 K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insulting 
 Nor no man's lord ; I have no name, no title, — 
 No, not that name was given me at the font, — 
 But 'tis usnrp'd : — Alack the heavy day. 
 That I have worn so many winters out. 
 And know not now what name to call myself! 
 O, that I were a mockery king ot snow. 
 Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, 
 To melt myself away in water-drops ! — [good,) 
 Good king, — great king, — (and yet not greatly 
 An if my word be sterling yet in England, 
 Let it command a mirror hither straight; 
 That it Uiay show me what a face I have. 
 Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. 
 
 Baling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking- 
 glass. [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth 
 come. [to hell. 
 
 K. Rich Fiend! thou torment'st me ere I come 
 
 Baling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland. 
 
 North. The commons will not then be satisft-d. 
 
 K. Rich. They shall be satisfied ; I'll read enongli, 
 When I do see tlie very book indeed 
 Where all my sins are writ, and that's — niyseli'. 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, with a glass. 
 
 Give me that glass, and therein will I read. — 
 
 No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck 
 
 So many blows upon this face of mine. 
 
 And made no deeper wounds'.' — O, flattering glass 
 
 Like to my followers in prosperity. 
 
 Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face 
 
 That every day under his household roof 
 
 Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face, 
 
 That, like tiie sun, did make beholders wink ? 
 
 Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies, 
 
 Afd was at last oiit-fac'd by Bolingbroke ? 
 
 A brittle glory shi.ieth in this face: 
 
 As brittle as the glory is the face : 
 
 [Daslie.i the glass against the ground.) 
 For there it is,ciack'd in a hundred shivers. — 
 Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,— 
 How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. 
 
 Baling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd 
 The shadow of your face. 
 
 K. Rich. Say that again. 
 
 The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha ! lets see : — 
 "J'is very true, my giief lies all within ; 
 And these external manners of lament 
 Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, 
 That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul , 
 There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king. 
 For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st 
 Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way 
 How to lament the cause. I'll beg one cooa. 
 And then be gone, and trouble you no more. 
 Shall 1 obtain it? 
 
 Baling. Name it, fair cousin. 
 
 K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I am greater than 
 , a king : 
 
318 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 For, when I was a kin,?, my flatterers 
 
 \Vere then but subjects; being now a. subject, 
 I have a iiing here to uiy tlatterer. 
 Being so great, I have no need to beg. 
 
 Baling. V et aslt. 
 
 K. Rich. And shall I have ? 
 
 'BuHnrj. You shall. 
 
 / . Rich. Tlien give nie leave to go. 
 
 Bolituj. Whither? [sights, 
 
 K, Rich. Whither yon will, so I were from your 
 
 Bolinri. Go, sonie ol' you, con\ey him to tlie 
 'Tower. [you all, 
 
 K. Rich. O, good ! Convey ? — Conveyers are 
 That rise thus nimbly by a true king's tall. 
 [.Exeunt K. Richard, some Lords, and a Guard. 
 
 Baling. On Wednesday next, we solpninly set 
 down 
 Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. 
 
 {Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop of Carlisle, 
 aiid Aumerle. 
 
 Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. 
 
 Car. Tlie woe s to come ; the children yet un- 
 born 
 Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. 
 
 Aum. Vou holy clergymen, is there no plot 
 To ri<i the realm of this pernicious blot:* 
 
 Abbot. IJefore I freely speak my mind herein. 
 You shall not only take the sacrament 
 To bury mine intents, but to effect 
 Wliatever I shall happen to devise: — 
 I see your brows are full of discontent. 
 Your iiearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears; 
 Come ho.iie with me to supper; I will lay 
 A plot, shall show us all a merry day. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — hondon. A Street leading to the Toiver. 
 Enter Queen and Ladies. 
 Queen. Tliis way tlie king will come ; this is the 
 To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, [way 
 
 To whose Unit bosom my condemned lord 
 is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke : 
 Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth 
 Have any resting for Ler true king's queen. 
 
 Enter king Richard, and Guards. 
 
 But soft, but see, or rather do not see. 
 
 My lair rose wither: Yet look up; behold ; 
 
 That you in pity may dissolve to dew, 
 
 And wash hiin liesh again with true-love tears. — 
 
 Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ; 
 
 Thou map of honour ; thou king Richard's tomb. 
 
 And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn. 
 
 Why should hard favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee. 
 
 When triuuiph is become an alehouse guest i 
 
 K. Rich. Join nut with grief, fair woman, do 
 not so, 
 To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul. 
 To think our former state a happy dream ; 
 From wiiich awak'd, the truth of what we are 
 Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet. 
 To grim necessity; and he and I 
 Will kee^) a league till death. Hie thee to Fiance, 
 And cloister thee in some religious house: 
 Our holy lives must win a new world's crown. 
 Which our profane hours here have stricken down. 
 
 Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and 
 mind 
 Transfonn'd, and weaken'd ? Hath Bolingbroke 
 Depos'd tliiiie intellect? Hath he been in thy heart? 
 The lidti, dying, thrusteth ibrth his pavv. 
 And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage 
 To he 'I'erpower'd ; and wilt lh<iu. pu, il-like, 
 Tat e th^ <:orre(;tion mildly? kiss the rod ; 
 And fawQ on rage with base humility, 
 Whif.h art a lion, and a kmg of beasts? 
 
 h. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but 
 I \ii\d hr.^a still a happy king of men. , [beasts, 
 
 Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for 
 
 France : 
 Think, I am dead : and that even here tbou tak'st. 
 As from my death bed, my last living- leave. 
 ]n winter's tedious nights sit by the tire 
 With good old folks ; and let them tell thee talea 
 Of woeful ages, long ago betid : . . . 
 And, ere thou bid good night, to quit tlfeir grief. 
 Tell thou the lamentable iail of me. 
 And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
 For why, the senseless brands will sympathize 
 The heavy accent of thy moving tongue. 
 And, in compassion, weep the fire out: 
 And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black. 
 For the deposing of a rightful king. 
 
 Enter Northumberland, attended. 
 
 North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is 
 chang'd ; 
 You must to Fomiiet, not unto the Tower.— 
 And, madam, there is order ta'en for you ; 
 With all swift speed you must away to France. 
 
 K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder, where- 
 withal 
 The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, 
 The time shall nut be many hours of age 
 More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, 
 Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think. 
 Though he divide the realm, and give thee half. 
 It is too little, helping him to all ; 
 And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the 
 To plant unrighlf il kings, wilt know again, [way 
 Being ne'er so little nrg'd, another way 
 To pluck hiiu headlong from the nsurp'd throne. 
 The love of wicked friends converts to fear; 
 That tear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both. 
 To worthy danger, ai d deserved death. 
 
 North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. 
 Take leave, and part; for you must part forth- 
 with 
 
 K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? — Bad men, ye violate 
 A twofold marriage ; 'twixt my ciouii and me ; 
 And then, betwixt me and my married wife. — 
 Let me unkiss the oath 'twiiit thee and me; 
 And yet not so, for \silh a kiss 'twas made. — 
 Part us, Northumberland ; I towards the north. 
 Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime ; 
 My wife to France ; from whence, set forth in pomp. 
 She came adorned liither like sweet iMay, 
 Sent back like Hallowmas, or shortst ol day. 
 
 Queen. And must we be divided? must we part? 
 
 K, Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and 
 heart from neart. [me. 
 
 Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with 
 
 North. That were some love, but little policy. 
 
 Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. 
 
 K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one 
 woe. 
 Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here ; 
 Better far off, than— near, be ne'er the near'. 
 Go, count thy way with sighs ; I, mine with groans. 
 
 Queen. So longest way shall have the longest 
 moans. [being short, 
 
 K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way 
 And piece the way out with a heavy heart. 
 Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief. 
 Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. 
 One kiss shallstop our mouths, and dumbly part; 
 Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. _ 
 
 {^hey kiss.) 
 
 Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good 
 part, 
 To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. 
 
 {Kiss agaiu.) 
 So, now I have mine own again, begone. 
 That I may strive to kill it with a groan. [delay: 
 
 K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond 
 Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 819 
 
 Sc£?<'E II. — The Slime. A Room in the Duke of 
 York's Palace. 
 
 Enter VoRK, and his Duchess. 
 Duch. ftly lord, you told me, you would tell the 
 rest, 
 When weeping made you break the story off 
 Of our two cousins coming into London. 
 York. Where did I leave ? 
 Duch. At that sad stop, my lord, 
 
 Where rude ssisgovern'd hands, irom windows' 
 
 tops, 
 Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. 
 York. Then, as I said> the duke, great Boling- 
 broke, — 
 jVIoiinfi^d upon a hot and fiery steed, 
 Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
 With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, 
 While all tongues cried — God save thee, lioling- 
 
 broke ! 
 You would have thought the very windows spake. 
 So many greedy looks of young and old 
 Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
 Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, 
 With painted imag'ry, had said at once, — 
 Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke ! 
 Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
 Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck ; 
 Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen : 
 And tlius still doing, thus he pass'd along. 
 
 Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the 
 
 while ? 
 York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 After a well grac'd actor leaves the stage, 
 Are idly bent on him that enters next, 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious: 
 Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
 Did scowl on lUcliard ; no man cried, God suve 
 
 him; 
 No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 
 But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
 Which with such gentle sorrow he shook oil", — 
 His face still comtiating with tears and smiles. 
 The badges of his grief and patience, — 
 That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 
 The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted. 
 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
 But heaven hath a hand in these events ; 
 To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
 To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now. 
 Whose state and honour I for aye allow. 
 
 Enter Aumerle. 
 
 Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. 
 
 York. Aumerle that was ; 
 
 But tiiat is lost, for being Richard's friend. 
 And, madam, you must call him Rutland now; 
 J am in parliament pledge for his truth. 
 And lasting fealty to the new-made king. 
 
 Duch. VVelcome, my son : Who are the violets 
 
 DOW, 
 
 That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? 
 
 Aitm. lAladam, I know not, nor J greatly care not : 
 God knows, I had as lief be none, as one. 
 
 York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of 
 time, 
 Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. 
 What news from Oxford';" hold those justs and 
 triumphs '? 
 
 Au7n. For aught I know, my lord, they do. 
 
 York. You will be there, I know. 
 
 Aum. If God prevent it not; I purpose so. 
 
 York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy 
 bosom ? 
 Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. 
 
 Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. 
 
 York. No matter then who sees it: 
 
 I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. 
 
 Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; 
 It is a matter of small consequence. 
 Which for some reasons I would not have seen. 
 
 York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. 
 I fi^ar, I fear, — 
 
 Duch. What should you fear? 
 
 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into 
 For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. 
 
 York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a 
 bond 
 
 That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool to. 
 
 Boy, let me see the writing. [show it. 
 
 Anm. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I may nut 
 York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. 
 [Snatches it, and reads.) 
 Treason! foul treason! — villain! traitor! slave! 
 Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? 
 York. Ho! who is within there? [Enter a Ser- 
 vant.) Saddle my horse, 
 God for his mercy ! what treachery is here ! 
 Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? 
 York, Give me my boots, I say; saddle my 
 horse : — 
 For by mine lumour, by my life, my troth, 
 1 will impeach the villain. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Duch. What's the matter? 
 
 York. Peace, foolish woman. [son ? 
 
 Duch. I will not peace : — What is the matter, 
 Aum. Good mother, be content j it is no more 
 Than my poor life must answer. 
 Duch. Thy life answer ! 
 
 Re-enter Servant, with boots. 
 
 York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king. 
 
 Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou 
 art amaz'd : — 
 Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight. — 
 
 [To the Servant.) 
 
 York. Give me my boots, I say. 
 
 Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? 
 Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? 
 Have we more sons? or are we like to have ? 
 Is not my teeming date drunk up with time ? 
 And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age. 
 And rob me of a happy mother's name ? 
 Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? 
 
 York. Thou fond mad woman, 
 Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? 
 A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament 
 And interchangeably set down their hands, 
 To kill the king at Oxford. 
 
 Duch. He shall be none; 
 
 We'll keep him here : Then what is that to him? 
 
 York. Away, 
 Fond woman ! were he twenty times my son, 
 I would appeach him. 
 
 Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for hira. 
 
 As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful. 
 But now I know thy mind : thou dost suspect. 
 That I have been disloyal to thy bed. 
 And that he is a bastard, not thy son : 
 Sweet Yoik, sweet husband, be not of that mind 
 He is as like thee as a man may be. 
 Not like to me, or any of my kin, 
 And yet I love him. 
 
 York. ]Make way, unruly woman. 
 
 [ Exit 
 Duch. After, Aumerle ; mount thee upon bis 
 horse ; 
 Spur, post; and get before him to the king, 
 And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. 
 I'll not be long behind; thouTh I be old, 
 I doubt not but to ride as fast as York : 
 And never will I rise up from the ground. 
 Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee : Away; 
 Begone. [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — IVindsor. A Room in the Ca.slle. 
 
 Enter Bolingbroke ax Kinfj ; Percy, and other 
 Lords. 
 Baling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 
 'Tis full three months, since I did see him List: — 
 1/ any plague hang over us, 'tis he 
 
320 
 
 KING RICHARD 11. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 I would to God, my lords, lie ittight be found: 
 fpqDi.e at London, 'iiiongst tiie tuveriis tliere, 
 Kor tlKfc, t'^ey siiy, lie daily doth tr."qiieiit. 
 With mires' uiiu-d loase coaipanioiis; 
 Evi-n sucli, tliey say, as st^iid in narrow lanes, 
 And beat our watcli, and rob our i),issen;;ers ; 
 While he, young, wanton, and elieiiiinate boy. 
 Takes on tfie point ol' honour, to support 
 So dissolute a crew. 
 
 Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the 
 prince ; 
 ^nd told hull of these triumphs held at Oxford. 
 
 Bolhiij. And what said tlie gallant :" 
 
 Percy. His answer was, — he would unto tlie 
 stews ; 
 \nd from the common'st creature pluck a glove, 
 And wear it as a favour; and with tliat 
 He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. 
 
 Bolinij. As dissolute, as desperate : yet, through 
 I see some sparkles of a better hope, [ both. 
 
 Which elder days may happily bring forth. 
 But who comes here i 
 
 Enter Aumerle, hastily. 
 Avm. Where is the king ? 
 
 Boling. What means 
 
 Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly? 
 Aum. (iod save your grace. I do beseech your 
 
 majesty. 
 To have sume conference with your grace alone. 
 Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here 
 alone. — [Exeunt Percy and Lords. 
 
 What is the matter with our cousin now i 
 
 Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, 
 
 [Kjieels.) 
 My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth. 
 Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. 
 
 Buliii'j. Intended, or comuiilted was this fault ? 
 If but the first, how heinous ere it be. 
 To win thy after-love, I pardon thee. [key, 
 
 AniH. Then give me leave, that I may turn tlie 
 That no man enter till my tale be done. 
 
 Bolinij. IIh ve thy desire. {Aumerle locks the door.) 
 York. { Within. ) My liege, beware ; look to thy- 
 self; 
 Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 
 
 Baling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing.) 
 Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand ; 
 Thou hast MM cause to lear. 
 
 YorL: ( Jf^i/hin. ) Open the door, secure, fool- 
 hardy king: 
 tjliall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? 
 Open the door or 1 will break it open. 
 
 ( Bolinijbroke opens the door. ) 
 
 Enter York. 
 
 Boling. What is the matter, uncle? speak; 
 Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger, 
 That we may arm us to encounter it. [know 
 
 York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shall 
 The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
 
 Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise 
 past : 
 I do repent me ; read not my name there. 
 My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
 
 York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it 
 down.-^ 
 I tore I from the traitor's bosom, king; 
 Fear, and not love, begets his penitence; 
 Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
 A serpent, that will sting thee to the heart. 
 
 Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy ! — 
 O loyal fatiier of a treacherous son! 
 'J'liou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, 
 From whence this stream, through rauddy passages. 
 Hath held his current, and defil'd himself I 
 Thy overflow of good converts to bad ; 
 And thy abundant jroodness shall excuse 
 This deadly blot in thy digressing son. 
 
 York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; 
 
 And he shall spend mine honour with his shame 
 
 As thriftless sons their scraping father's gold. 
 Mine honour li\ es, when his dishonour dies. 
 Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies : 
 Tliou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, 
 'i'he traitor lives, the true man's put to death. 
 
 Dtich. [iritliin.) WU.it ho, my liege! for CJod's 
 sake let me in. 
 
 Doling. What siirill-voic'd S!i))pliaiit makes this 
 
 eager cry V , ■ . , 
 
 Duch. A w Oman, and thine aunt, great king ; lis, J. 
 
 Speak with me, pity iiie, o|itn tiie duor; 
 
 A beggar bei;s, that never beggd before. 
 
 Boling. Our scene is alter d, — from a snious 
 thing, 
 
 And now ciiang'd to The Beggar and the King. — 
 
 My dangerous cousin, let yoiu' mother m ; 
 
 I know, she's come to pray for your ioul sin. 
 York. If thou do pardon, whusoever pray. 
 
 More sins, for' this forgiveness, prosper may. 
 
 This fest(_r'd joint cut otf, the rest rests sound • 
 
 This, let alone, with all the rest coulound. 
 
 Enter Duchess. 
 
 Duch. O king, believe not diis hard-hearted man ; 
 Love, loving not itself, none other can. 
 
 York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make 
 here ? 
 Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? 
 
 Duch. Sweet Vork, be patient ; Hear me, gentle 
 liege. ( Kneels. ) 
 
 Boling, Rise up, good aunt. 
 
 Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech : 
 
 For ever will I kneel upon my knees. 
 And never see day, that the happy sees, 
 'I'ill thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy. 
 By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. 
 
 Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend xny 
 knee. ( Kneeh. ] 
 
 York. Against them both, my true joints bended 
 be. ( Kneels., 
 
 Ill niay'st thou thrive, if thou grant any giace ! 
 
 Duch. Pleads he in earnest :" look upon Ins (ace. 
 His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers ai e m jest ; 
 His words coiue from his mouth, ours trom our bn-asl 
 He prays but laintiy, and would be dtiiied ; 
 We pray with heart and soul, and all beside : 
 His weary joints would gladly rise, I kuovv; 
 Our knees shall kneel, till to the ground they grow; 
 His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; 
 Ours, of true zeal, and deep integrity. 
 Our prayers do out pray his; then let them have. . 
 That mercy, which true prayers ought to have 
 
 Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 Duch. Nay, do not say — stand up; 
 
 But pardon, first ; and afterwards stand up. 
 An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, 
 Pardon — should be the hrst word of thy speech. 
 1 never long d to hear a word till now ; 
 Say — pardon, king; let pity teach tiiee how; 
 The word is short, but not so short as sweet ; 
 No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet. 
 
 York. Speak it in French, \s\\iz ; say , pardoruiez 
 moy. 
 
 Duch. Dost thou teacli pardon pardon to destroy "' 
 All, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord. 
 That sett'st the word itself against the word I •- 
 Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ; 
 'I'lie chopping French we do not undei stand, 
 'i'hine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue tl'.tre : 
 Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou tliine ear : 
 That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, 
 Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. 
 
 Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
 
 Duch. 1 do not sue to Ht^nd, 
 
 Pan'on is all the suit I have in hand- 
 
 Bohng. I pardon him, as God shall pardon in*-. 
 
 Duch. O hajjpy vantage of a knei ling kneel 
 Yet am I sick lor fear : spfak it a^'uiii ; 
 Twice saying pardon, dotli not pardon twain. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 321 
 
 But makes one pardou strong. 
 
 Buling. With all my heart 
 
 1 parduii him. 
 
 Duck. A god on earth thou art. 
 
 Bolinrj. Uut for our trusty brother-in-law, — and 
 the abbot, 
 With all the rest of that consorted crew, — 
 Destri!ction straight shall dog them at the heeR. — 
 iiootl iinrle, help to order several powers 
 'I'd Oxford, or where'er these traitors are : 
 They shall not live within this world, I swear. 
 But 1 will have them, if I once know where. 
 Uncle, farewell, — and cousin too, adieu : 
 Vour mother well hath pray'd, aud prove you true. 
 
 Dwlt. Come, my old son ; — I pray God make 
 tiiee new. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 Enter ExTON, and a Servant. 
 
 Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what worcis 
 he spake ? 
 Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? 
 Was it not so '! 
 
 Serv. Those were his very words. 
 
 Exton. Have I ho friend! quoth he : he spake 
 it twice. 
 And urg'd it twice together; did he pot? 
 
 Serv. He did. [me; 
 
 Exton. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd on 
 As who shoidd say, — I would, thou wert the raau, 
 That would divorce this terror from my heart ; 
 Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, lefs go : 
 1 am the king's iriend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Pomfret. The Dungeon of the castle. 
 
 Enter King Richard. 
 
 K. Rick. I have been studying how I may com- 
 pare 
 This prison where I live, unto the world: 
 And, for because the world is populous. 
 And here is not a creature but myself, 
 I cannot do it ; — Yet I'll hammer it out. 
 My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; 
 My soul, the father : and these two beget 
 A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
 And these same thoughts people this little world; 
 In humours, like the people ot this world ; 
 For no thought is contented. The better sort, — 
 As thoughts of things divine, — are intermix'd 
 With scruples, and do set the word itself 
 Against the word . 
 
 As thus, — Come, little ones ; and then again, — 
 It is as hard to come, as for a camel 
 To thread the postern of a needles eye. 
 Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
 Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails 
 May tear a passage through the Hiuty ribs 
 Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; 
 And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. 
 Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, — 
 That they are not the first of foi tune's slaves. 
 Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars. 
 Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, — 
 That many have, and others must sit there : 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease. 
 Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
 Of such as have before endur d the like. 
 Thus play I, in one person, many people. 
 And none contented : Sometimes am 1 king ; 
 Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, 
 And so I am : Then crushing penury 
 Persuades me, I was better when a king; 
 Then am I king'd again and, by and by. 
 Think, that I am unking'd by Boliiigbroke, 
 And straight am nothing : But, whate'er I am, 
 Nor 1, nor any man, that but mun is. 
 With nothing .shall be , leas'd, till he be ;as'd 
 With bemg nothing.— Music do I hear ? ( Music. ) 
 Ha, ha I keep time : — How sour sweet music is. 
 
 When time is broke, aud no proportion kepti 
 
 So iH it in the music of men's lives. 
 
 And here have I the daintiness of ear. 
 
 To check time broke in adisorder'd string; 
 
 But, for the concord of my state and lime, 
 
 Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 
 
 I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. 
 
 For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock. 
 
 My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, they jar 
 
 Their watches on to mine eves, the outward watch, 
 
 Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
 
 Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. 
 
 Now, sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is. 
 
 Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart. 
 
 Which is the bell : So sighs, aud tears, and groaua, 
 
 Show minutes, times, and hours! — but my time 
 
 Runs postiugon in Bolingbroke's proud joy. 
 
 While I .stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clocL 
 
 This music mads me, let it sound no more ; 
 
 For, though it have hoipe madmen to their wits, 
 
 In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. 
 
 Yet blessing on his heart, that gives it me ! 
 
 For 'tis a sign of love ; and love to lliclianl 
 
 Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. 
 
 Enter Groom. 
 
 Groom. Hail ! royal prince ! 
 
 K. Rich. _ ThRt>k8, noble peer 
 
 The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. 
 What art thou ? and how comest thou hither. 
 Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog 
 That brings me food, to make misfortune live ? 
 
 Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king. 
 When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, 
 With much ado, at length have gotten leave 
 To look upon my sometimes master's face. 
 O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld 
 In London streets that coronation day, 
 When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary ! 
 That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ; 
 That horse, that I .so carefully have dress'd ! 
 
 K. Ri(h. Rode he on Barbary! Tell me, gentle 
 How wei.t he under him ? [friend, 
 
 Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. 
 
 K- Rich. So proud, that Bolingbroke was on his 
 back! 
 That jade hath eat bread from my royal Irind ; 
 This hand hath madf him proud with clapping him. 
 Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down, 
 (Since pride must have a fall,) and break the neck 
 Of that proud man, that did usurp his back? 
 Forgiveness, horse ! why do I rail on thee. 
 Since tliou, created to be aw'd by man, 
 Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse , 
 And yet I bear a burden like an ass, 
 Spur-galI'd, and tir'd, by jauucing Bolingbroke. 
 
 Enter Keeper tvith a dish. 
 
 Keep. Fellow, give place ; here is no longer stay. 
 
 {To the Groom.) 
 K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert 
 
 away. 
 Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart 
 shall say. 1 Exit, 
 
 Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ? 
 K. Rich. Taste of it first, as tliou art wont to do. 
 Keep. My lord, I dare not ; sir Pierce of Exton, 
 who 
 Lately came from the king, commands the contrary. 
 K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and 
 thee ! 
 Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. 
 
 (Beats the Keeper.) 
 Keep. Help, help, help! 
 
 Enter ExroN and Servants, armed. 
 
 K. Rich. How now ? what means death in this rude 
 assault ? 
 Villain, thy own hand yields tiiy death's instrument. 
 (Snatching a tveapon, andkillingvne.j 
 21 
 
322 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Oo thon, and fill another room in hell. 
 (He kills anotfier, then Exton strikes him down.J 
 That hand shall burn in never-qiieiu;hiiig Hre, 
 That staggers thus my person. — Kxtun, thy fierce 
 hand [land. 
 
 Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own 
 Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ; 
 Whilst my gross tiesh sinks downward here to die. 
 
 fDiesJ 
 Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood : 
 Both have 1 spilt; O, would the deed were good! 
 For now the devil, that told me — I did well. 
 Says, that this deed is chronicled in hell. 
 This dead king to the living king I'll bear ; — 
 Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. 
 
 lExeuTit. 
 
 Scene VI. — Windsor. A room tn the castle. 
 Flourish. Enter Bolingbroke and York, with 
 Lords and Attendants. 
 Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear 
 Is — that the rebels have cotisum'd v/ith fire 
 Our town of Ciotster in Glostershire ; 
 But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not. 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 
 Welcome, my lord : What is the news? 
 
 North. First, to tiiy sacred state wish I all hap- 
 piness. 
 The next news is, — I have to London sent 
 The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, lilunt, and Kent: 
 The manner of their taking may appear 
 At large discoursed in this paper here. 
 
 (Presenting a paper.) 
 Boling. We thank thee, gentle I'ercy, for th,v 
 pains ; 
 And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. 
 
 Enter Fitzwater. 
 
 Fitz. My Lord, I have from Oxford sent to London 
 'I'lie heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely , 
 Two of the dangerous ccmsorted traitors. 
 That soujjht at Oxford thy dire overthrow. 
 
 f Boling. Thy |^ains, Fitzwalter, shall ttn be lorgot , 
 Riglit noble is Ihy merit, well I wot. 
 
 Enter Percy, with the Bishop of Carlistjc. 
 
 Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of West* 
 minster. 
 With clog ol conscience, and sour melancholy, 
 Hatli yielded up his body Id the grave; 
 But htre is Carlisle living, to abide 
 Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his jiiide. 
 
 Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom : — 
 Choose out some secret place, some revtrend room 
 More than thou hast, and witii it joy thy lile: 
 So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife: 
 For though mine enemy thou hast ever been. 
 High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. 
 
 Enter ExTON, with attendants bearing a coffin. 
 
 Exton. Great king, within tliis coliiu I present 
 Thy buried fear; herein all breathless lies 
 'I'he mightiest of tliy greatest enemies, 
 Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought. 
 
 Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast 
 wrought 
 A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand. 
 Upon my head, and ail this famous land. 
 
 Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did 1 
 this deed. 
 
 Baling. They love not poison, that do poison need. 
 Nor do 1 thee ; though I did wish him dead, 
 1 hate the murderer, love him murdered. 
 Tlie guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, 
 But neither my good word, nor princely favour : 
 Wi'h Cain go wander tlirough the sliade of night. 
 And never show thy head by day nor liglit. — 
 Lords, I protest, my soul is lull of woe, 
 That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow : 
 Come, mourn with me for what I do lament. 
 And put on sullen black incontinent; 
 I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
 To wash this blood oft'lVoni my guilty hand ;— 
 March sadly after; grace my mournings here. 
 In weeping after this untimely bii r. [Kveiint. 
 

 
 O 
 
 •y. 
 
 J 
 
KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 I fancy ererT reader, when he ends this play, cries out with Desderaona, ' O most lame and impotent conrlusion! 
 As tliis pIh; WB8 uot, to uur kuowledge, divided into acts br tbe author, I could be conteut to conclude it with 
 tbe death of Henry tbe Fourth: 
 
 * In (hot Jerusalem shall Harry die. 
 
 These s<5enes, which now make (lie lifih act of Henry the Fourth. mlKht then be the first o( Hfnry the Fifth: bui 
 the truth is. tliey dii iinl unite very comni"diously to either piny Wlieii these plays were representtd, 1 believe 
 they ended as they are now ended in the books ; but Shakspeaie seems to have designed that the whdle series ot 
 action, from the beginning of Richard the Secmiil, to the end of Henry the Fifth, sh ulcl be ciinsidercd by the 
 reader ns one. work, upon one plan, only broken into i>aris by the nci-essily of exliibilicm. 
 
 None of Shakspeare's plays are more read than (lie First itnd Secund I'arts of Henry the Funrth. Perhaps no 
 au'horhas ever, in two plays, alforded so inucli d liitht. The great events are interesting, fur (he fate of kiogduni* 
 depend upon them ; the slighter occurrences are rliverting, and, except one or two. snilicienlly probub e : the inc dents 
 «re multiplied with won'lerful fertility of iniention , and the characters diveisified with the utinosi nicety of discern- 
 ment, and the profoundesl skill in the nature of man 
 
 The prince, wlui is the hero both of the comic and tragic iiart, is a young m.in'of great abilities, and violent 
 passions, whose sentiments are nglit, though his actions are wrong; wtiose virtues are obscuied by negligeiue, 
 and whose understanding is dissipated by levity. In bis id:e hours he is rather loise (ban wicked; and when the 
 occasion forces out his latent qualiiies, he is great without effort, and brave without (iiniiiK. The triller is roused 
 into a hero, and (hehero again reposes in ihe triller. The character is great, oriRinal, and just. 
 
 Percy is a ru;;Ked solder, choleric and qiiarrtUuine, aiij has only the soldier's virtues, generosity and coiirage. 
 
 But F«ls(al1"! iinimitated. iiMiinitable FnlstafT' bow shall I ilesrribe thee? thou com lonnd of sense and vice ; of 
 sense which may be ailioired, but not esteemed; of vice which may be despised, but hardly detested. Falslatfisa 
 «;haractei loiuled with laults, and with those faults which uaturallj produce contempt He is a thief and a sluitnn, 
 a coward and a boaster; alwuys ready to client (he weak, and prey upon (he poor; (o terrify (he timonois, and 
 insnl: (he deeiiceless At once obse<juious and malignant, he satirizes in their absence, (hose whom lie lives by 
 flat(er'iig. He is fum liar with the prince only as an agent of vice; but of (his familiarity he is so proud, as not 
 only to Tie siinercilions and haughty with conunou nieu, but to think his interest of iniportance to the duke of 
 Lancuster Yet the man thus corrupt, (bus desidcable. makes himself necessary to the prince tliat despises him, 
 by the most pleasing of all qualities, perpetual gaiety : by an unfailing power of exciting l;iugli(er, which is (he more 
 freely indulged, as his wit i.,. not of the splendid or ambilious kind, but consists in easy scapes and sallies of levity, 
 which make sport, but raise no envy. It nnist be observed, that he is stained with no enormous or sanriiinar^ 
 crimes, so th:it his licentiousness is not so olfensive but thnf it may be borne for his mirth. 
 
 The moral to be dniwn from this representation is. that no man is more dangeioiis than he that, vkitli a will to 
 corrupt, hath the power to please; and that neither wit nor honesty ought to (hint Ihemsehes safe with such a 
 companion, when they see Henry seduced bn Fal.stalf. Juhnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KINO HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 S.f ^vJ^>'.- /.Yi'^' f, "'"'''■'; / Sons to the King. 
 PRINOii JOHN oj L'lucaster. ( 
 
 EARf. OF WESTMi>KEL.\ND. » prietids to the Ki«a 
 SIR VVALFKR BLUNT. ( tnenits to ine Aing. 
 
 THOMA,S PERCY, Eart of W,rcester. 
 HENRY PERCY, Enrl of Norihumherl'ind. 
 HENRY PERCY, suriiamrd HOTSPUR, hit Sou. 
 EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March. 
 SCROOP, A chhishop of Y'ork. 
 ARCHIBALD. Earl of Dougias. 
 OWEN GLENDOWER. 
 SIR RICHARD VERNON. 
 
 SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. 
 
 POINS. 
 
 GADSHILL. 
 
 PEH). 
 
 BARDOLPH. 
 
 LADY PERCY, Wife to Hotspnr, aitrf Sister to Mor 
 
 timer. 
 LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to Giendower, and Wife 
 
 to Mortimer. 
 MRS QC'ICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in Eastcheap. 
 
 Lords, Officers. Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Dravotrt, 
 Tv>o Carriers, TraveUers, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — England, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Room in the Palace, 
 
 Enter Kinfj Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter 
 Blunt, and others. 
 K. Hen. So shaken as #6 are, so wan with care. 
 Find we a time for frighted peace to {jant, 
 And breathe short winded accents of new broils 
 To be coininencM in strojids afar remote. 
 No more tiie thirsty Erinnys of this soil 
 Shall daub her iips witli her own children's blood ; 
 No mote shall trenching war channel her fields. 
 Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs 
 or hostile paces : those opposed eyes, 
 Whicli, — like tlie meteors of a troubled heaveoj 
 All of one nature, of one substance bred, — 
 Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
 And furious close of civil butchery, 
 Shall now, in miibial, well-beseeming ranks, 
 March all one way ; and be no more oppos'd 
 Agaiust acquaintance, kindred, and allies : 
 The edge of war, like an ill sheathed knife. 
 No ni^re shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, 
 As far as to the sepulchre <if Christ, 
 fWlidse soldier niav, under whose blessed cross 
 vVe are itnpre.ssed and enjjaged to lis'ht,) 
 Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; 
 Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb, 
 
 To chase these pagans, in those holy fields, 
 Over whose acres walk'd those blessed ieet. 
 Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd 
 For our advantage on the bitter cn)ss. 
 But this our purpose is a twelve-month old. 
 And bootless 'tis to tell you — we will go ; 
 Therefore we meet not now : — Then let me hear 
 Of you, my gentle coiisia Westmoreland, 
 What yesternight our council did decree. 
 In forwarding this dear expedience. 
 
 West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 
 .\nd many limits of the charge set down 
 But yesternight : when, all athwart, there came 
 A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news^ 
 Whose worst was, — that the noble Mortimer, 
 Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
 Against the irregular and wild Giendower, 
 Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, 
 .\nd a thousand of his people butchered : 
 Upon whose dead corpse tiiere was such misuse. 
 Such beastly, shameless transformation. 
 By those Welshwomen done, as may not oe. 
 Without much shame, re-told or spoken of. 
 K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this 
 
 broil 
 Brake off our business for the Holy I^and. 
 
 West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious 
 
 lord ; 
 
324 
 
 PART FIRST OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 or mora ancven nod nnwelcome news 
 Came from toe north, aod thds it did import 
 On tioly-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 
 Young HaiTy Percy, and brave Archibald, 
 That ever-valiant and approved Scot, 
 At Holniedou met. 
 
 Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; 
 As by discharge of their artillery. 
 And slwpe of likelihood, the news was told ; 
 I'or he, that brought them, in the very heat 
 And pride of their contention did take horse. 
 Uncertain of the issue any way. 
 
 K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend. 
 Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
 Stain'd with the variation of each soil 
 Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; 
 And he hath brought us smooth and welcmue news. 
 The earl of Douglas is discomfited ; 
 Ten thousand bold Scots, two and-twenty knights, 
 Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see 
 On Holmedon's plains : Of prisoners, Iljtspur took 
 Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son 
 'I'o beaten Douglas ; and the earls of Athol, 
 Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
 And is not this an honourable spoil ? 
 A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not? 
 
 rVest. In faith. 
 It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. 
 
 K. Hen. Yea, there thou niak'st me sad, and 
 inak'st me sin 
 In envy, that ray lord Northumberland 
 Should be the father of so blest a son : 
 A son, who is the tiieme of honour's tongue ; 
 Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; 
 Wlio is sweei fortune's minion, and her pride : 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him. 
 See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd, 
 Tliat some night tripping fairy had exchung'd 
 In cradle-clotiies our childien, where they lay. 
 And call'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenet! 
 I'hen would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
 But let him I'rora my thoughts : — What think you, 
 
 coz. 
 Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners. 
 Which h© in this adventure hath surprised. 
 To his own use he keeps ; and sends me word, 
 I s.'iail have none but Mordake earl of Fife. 
 
 ffest. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Wor- 
 cester, 
 Malevolent to you in all aspects ; 
 Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up 
 The crest of youth against your dignity. 
 
 K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this : 
 And, for tliis cause, awhile we must neglect 
 Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
 Cousin, on VVednt-sday next our council we 
 Will hold at Windsor, so intbrm tlie lords : 
 But come yourself with speed to us again ; 
 For more is to be saiil, and to be done, 
 'i'han out of anger can be uttered. 
 
 Weal. 1 will, my liege. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScENJS II. — The same. Another Room in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Entei Henry Prince of Wales, and F.\lstaff. 
 
 Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? 
 
 P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of 
 old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and 
 sleeping upon benches after noon, that tliou hast 
 forgotten to demand that truly, which thou wouldst 
 truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the 
 time ol the day ? unless hours were cups of sack, 
 and ininiites capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, 
 and dials tlie signs of leaping houses, and the bless- 
 ed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame colourd 
 tafl'eta ; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so 
 •upeifluoiis to demand the time of the day. 
 
 Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal : for 
 «e, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars ; 
 
 and not by Phoebus,— he, that wandering kniaht 
 so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when tfimi 
 art king,— as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I sboald 
 
 say ; for grace thou wilt have none,) 
 
 P. Hen. What ! none ? 
 
 Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will B?rve 
 to be prologue to an egg and butter. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, how then ? come, roundly, roundly. 
 Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king 
 let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be 
 called thieves of the day's beauty ; let us be — Diana's 
 foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the 
 moon : And let men say, we be men of good govern- 
 ment; being go\erned as the sea is, by our noble and 
 chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance 
 we — steal. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou say'st well ; and it holds well too : 
 for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth 
 ebb and flow like tlie sea ; being governed as the sea 
 is, by the moon. As, for proof, now : A purse o§ 
 gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and 
 most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning ; got with 
 swearing — lay by ; and spent with crying — bring in : 
 now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder; and 
 by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the 
 gallows. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is 
 not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ? 
 
 P. Hen. As tiie honey of Hybia, my old lad ol 
 the castle. And is not a bulf jerkin a most swee* 
 robe oi durance ? 
 
 Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy 
 quijis, and tliy quiddities? what a plague have I to 
 (io with a butf jerkin? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my 
 hostess of the tavern ? 
 
 Fal. Well, tliou hast called her to a reckoning, 
 many a time and oft. 
 
 P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ? 
 FaL No : I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all 
 there. 
 
 P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin 
 would stretch ; and, where it would aot, 1 have used 
 my credit. 
 
 Fal. Yea. and so used it, that were it not here ap- 
 parent that tliou art heir apparent, — But, I pr'ythee, 
 sweet wag, shall tiiere be gallows standing in Eng- 
 land when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed 
 as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic the 
 law ? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. 
 P. Hen. No ; thou slialt. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? O rare ! By the Lord, I'll be a 
 brave judge. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou judgest false already ; I mean, thou 
 shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become 
 a rare hangman. ^ 
 
 Fal. Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps 
 with my humour, as well as waitiiig lu the court, I 
 can tell you. 
 
 P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ? 
 Fal. Yea, ibr obtaining of suits : whereof the 
 hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am a - 
 melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear. 
 P. Hen. Or an old lion ; or a lover's lute. 
 Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. 
 P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the me- 
 lancholy of Moor- ditch ? 
 
 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury sinr.iles ; and 
 art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, — 
 sweet young prince, — But. Hal, I prWthee, trouble 
 me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and 
 I knew where a commodity of good names were lo 
 be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the 
 other day in the street about you, sir ; but I marked 
 him not : and yet he talked very wisely ; but I re- 
 garded him not : and yet he talked wisely, and in 
 the street too. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou did'st well ; for wisdom cries out 
 in the streets, and no man regards it 
 Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration ; and art, in - 
 
Scene 8. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 325 
 
 deed, able to corrupt a saiiit. Thou hast done much 
 hanu nnori me, Hal, — God forgive thee for it ! lie- 
 fore I knew thee, Hal, f knew nothing ; and now 
 am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than 
 one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I 
 will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, 1 am a 
 villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son in 
 Christetidoni. 
 
 P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow. 
 Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Where thou wilt, lad. I'll make one ; an I do 
 not, call nie villain, and baffle me. 
 
 P. lien. I see a good amendment of life in thee ; 
 from praying, to purse-taking. 
 
 Enter PoiNS, at a distance. 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis no 
 sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins ! — 
 Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. 
 O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in 
 hell were hot enough for him ? This is the mo.st 
 omnifjotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true 
 
 P. Hen. (ioodmorrow, Ned. (man. 
 
 Poins. Good -morrow, sweet Hal. — What says 
 monsieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-and- 
 Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about 
 thy soul, thut thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, 
 for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg? 
 
 P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil 
 shall have his bargain ; for he was never yet a break- 
 er of proverbs, he will give the devil h's due. 
 
 Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy 
 word with the devil. [the devil. 
 
 P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening 
 
 Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, 
 by four o'clock, early at Gadshill : There are pil- 
 grims going to Canterbury with rich ollerings, and 
 tradt-rs riding to London with fat purses : I have 
 visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves ; 
 Gadshiil lies to-night in Rochester ; I have bespoke 
 supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we may doit 
 as secure as sleep : If you will go, I will stuff your 
 purses full of crowns ; if you will not, tarry at home, 
 and be hanged. 
 
 Fal. Hear me, Yedward, if I tarry at home, and 
 go not, I'll hang you for going. 
 
 Poins. You will, chaps ? 
 
 Fal. Hal, will thou make one ? 
 
 P. Hen. Wno, 1 rob Ma thief? not I, by my 
 faith. 
 
 Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good 
 fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood 
 royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. 
 
 p. Hen. Well, then, once in ray days I'll be a 
 
 Fal. Why, that's well said. [mad-cap. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when 
 thou art king. 
 
 P. Hen. I care not. > 
 
 Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and 
 me alone ; I will lay him down such reasons for this 
 adventure, that he shall go. 
 
 Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persua- 
 sion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou 
 speakest may move, and what he hears may be be- 
 lieved, that the true prince may (for recreation sake,) 
 prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time 
 want countenance. Farewell : You shall find me 
 in Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring I Farewell 
 AU-hallovvn summer ! [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride 
 with us to-morrow ; 1 have a jest to esecute, that I 
 cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and 
 Oadshill, shall rob those men that we have already 
 way-laid ; yourself, and I, will not be there : and 
 when they have the booty, if you and 1 do not rob 
 them, cut this hfad from my shoulders. 
 
 P. Hen. Uut how shall we part with them in set- 
 ting form i I 
 
 Poins. Why, we will set forth before or aftei 
 them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherei 
 it is at our pleasure to fail ; and then will they ai 
 venture upon the exploit themselves: whicu thef 
 shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upoi 
 them. 
 
 P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know us, 
 by onr horses, by our hatits, and by every othci 
 appointment, to be ourselves. 
 
 Poiris, Tut ! our horses they shall not see, I'll 
 tie them in the wood; our visors we will change after 
 we leave them ; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram 
 for the nonce, to immask our noted outward gar- 
 ments. 
 P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us. 
 Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be 
 as true-bred cowards as ever turned back ; and for 
 the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'li 
 forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, tlie 
 incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will 
 tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at 
 least, he fought with ; what wards, what blows, what 
 extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, 
 lies thejesL 
 
 P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee ; provide us all 
 things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in 
 Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. 
 Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while liphold 
 The unyok'd humour of your idleness; 
 Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother np his beauty from the world, 
 That, when he please again to be himself. 
 Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at. 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 Ot vapours, that did seem to strangle him; 
 If all the year were playing holydays. 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
 But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 So, when this loose behaviour I throw off. 
 And pay the debt I never promised. 
 By how much better than my word I am. 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; 
 And, like bright metal on a sullen ground. 
 My reformation, glittering o'er my fault. 
 Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
 Than that, which hath no foil to set it off. 
 I'll so oft'end, to make offence a skill; 
 Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. Another Room in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Wor- 
 cester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and 
 others. 
 
 K. Hen. iVIy blood hath been too cold and tem- 
 perate. 
 Unapt to stir at these indignities. 
 And you have found me ; for, accordingly. 
 You tread upon my patience ; but, be sure, 
 I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
 Mighty, and to be fcar'd, than my condition ; 
 Which hath been smooth as oil, solt as young down. 
 And therefore lost that title of respect, 
 Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. 
 
 Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little de- 
 serves 
 The scourge of greatness to be used on it; 
 And that same greatness too, which our own hands 
 Have holp to make so portly. 
 
 North. My lord, — [danger 
 
 K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see 
 And disobedience in thine eye : O sir. 
 Your presence is too bold and peremptory. 
 And majesty might never yet endure 
 The moody frontier of a servant brow. 
 You have good leave to leave us; when we iwed 
 
320 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act I 
 
 \ out use and counsel, we shall send for yon. — 
 
 [Exit PForcesier. 
 Yon were about to speak. {To North.) 
 
 North. Yea, my good lord. 
 
 Those prisoners in your highnes.s' name demanded. 
 Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took; 
 Were, as he says, not with such strength denied. 
 As is deliver'd to your majesty : 
 Either envy, therefore, or misprision 
 Is eoilty of this fault, and not my son. 
 
 Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
 Bnt, 1 remember, when the fight was done. 
 When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil. 
 Breathless and faint, leaning npon my sword. 
 Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd. 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, 
 Show'd like a .stnbble-land at harvest-home : 
 He was perfnmed like a millmer ; 
 And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
 A ponncet-box, which ever and anon 
 
 He gave his nose, and took 't away again ; 
 
 Who, therewith angry, when it next came there. 
 
 Took it iff snutf: — and still he smil'd, and talk'd; 
 
 And, as the si/ldiers bore dead bodies by, 
 
 lie calld them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
 
 'I'o bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 
 With many holyday and lady terms 
 
 H« qnestion'd me ; among the rest, demanded 
 
 My prisoners, in yonr majesty's behalf. 
 
 I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
 
 To be so pester'd with a popinjay, 
 
 Ontof my grief and my impatience, 
 
 Answer'd negligently, 1 know not what ; 
 
 He should, or should not ; — for he made me mad. 
 
 To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet. 
 
 And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, 
 
 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 
 
 mark !) 
 And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
 Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise ; 
 And that it was great pity, so it was. 
 That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless eiirth. 
 Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
 So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns. 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 This bald disjointed chat of his, my lord, 
 1 answer'd indirectly, as 1 said; 
 And, I be.seenh you, let not his report 
 Come current for an accusation. 
 Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 
 
 Blunt. 'J he circumstance consider'd, good my lord, 
 Whatever Harry Percy then had said. 
 To such a person, and in such a place. 
 At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
 May reasonably die, and never rise 
 To do him wrong, or any way im|)each 
 WliJit then he said, so he unsay it now. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners; 
 But with proviso, and exception, — 
 That we, at our own charge, shall ransome straight 
 His brotlier-in-law, the foolish Moitimer; 
 Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd 
 The lives of those, tliat he did lead to fight 
 .Against the great magician, danin'd Glendower; 
 VV Ikjsi' daughter, as we hear, the earl of March 
 Ibith lately married. Shall our colfers then 
 Be eni|jtied, to redeem a traitor home? 
 Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears. 
 When they have lust and forfeited themselves? 
 No. on the barren mountains let hmi starve; 
 F()r I shall never hold that man my friend. 
 Whose tongue shall ask me lor one penny cost 
 To ransome home revolled Mortimer! 
 
 Hot. Revolted Mortimer ! 
 He never did fail oil", my sovereign liege, 
 Hii l.y the chance of war : — To prove ti, at true. 
 Needs no more but one tongue for all IIk se wounds. 
 Those rnoutiied wounds, which valiantly betook, 
 
 When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank. 
 
 In single opposition, hand to hand. 
 
 He did confound the best part of an hour 
 
 In changing hardiment with great Glendower: 
 
 Three times they breath'd, and three times did thej 
 
 drink. 
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
 Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks. 
 Ran fearfidly among the trembling reeds. 
 And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank. 
 Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
 Never did bare and rotten policy 
 Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; 
 Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly: 
 Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 
 
 K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dosl 
 belie him, 
 He never did encoimtcr with Glendower ; 
 I tell thee, 
 
 He durst as well have met the devil alone. 
 As Owen Glendower for au enemy. 
 Art not asham'd ? But, sirrah, henceforth 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
 Send me your prisoners with the speediest means. 
 Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
 As will displease you. — My lord Northumberland, 
 We license your departure with your son- — 
 Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 
 
 [Exeunt King Henri/, Blunt, and Train. 
 
 Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, 
 I will not send them : — I will after straight, 
 And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart. 
 Although it be with hazard of my head. 
 
 North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and 
 pause awhile ; 
 Here comes your uncle. 
 
 Re-enter Worcester. 
 
 Hot. Speak of Mortimer ! 
 
 Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
 Want mercy, if 1 do not join with him: 
 Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins. 
 And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, 
 But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
 As high i'the air as this unthankful king. 
 As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. 
 
 North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew 
 mad. {To I f'^orcester.) 
 
 Tf'or, Who struck this heat up after I was gone ? 
 
 Hot. He will, lorsooth, have all my prisoners; 
 And when I iirg'd the ransome once again 
 Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale ; 
 And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, 
 Tremblhig even at the name of Mortimer. 
 
 Wor. I cannot blame him : Was he not pro- 
 claim'd. 
 By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood ? 
 
 North. He was ; 1 heard the proclamation : 
 And then it was, when the unhappy king 
 (Whose wrongs in us God jjardon!) did set forth 
 Upon his Irish expedition; 
 From whence he, intercepted, did return 
 To be depos'd, and shortly, murder'd. 
 
 Wor. And for whose death, we in the world » 
 wide mouth 
 Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. 
 
 Hut. But, soft, I pray you ; Did king Richard then 
 Proclaim my biotlier Edmund Mortimer 
 Heir to the crown :" 
 
 North. He did ; mvself did hear JL 
 
 Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin ki;jg. 
 That wish'd him on the bai ren mountains starv'd. 
 But shall it be, that you,— that .set the crown 
 Upon the head of this Ibrgetlid man : 
 And for his sake, wear the detested blot 
 Of niurd'rous s. bornation, — shall it be. 
 That you a world of curses nn(le?go : 
 Being the agents, or base second means. 
 The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather ? 
 
Scene 8. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 327 
 
 O, pardon me, that I descend so low, 
 To show the line, and the predicament. 
 Wherein you range under this subtle kingr. 
 Shall it, for sh;nne, be spoken in these days. 
 Or fill up chronicles in time to come, 
 That men of your nobility and power 
 Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf, — 
 As both of you, God pardon it ! have done, — 
 'lo put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, 
 And plarit this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke ? 
 And shall it, in n-.ore shame, be further spoken, 
 That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off 
 By him, for whom these shames ye underwent? 
 No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem 
 Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves 
 Into the good thoughts of the world again : 
 Revenge the jeering, and disdain'd contempt 
 Of this proud king ; who studies, day and night. 
 To answer all the debt he owes to you. 
 Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. 
 Therefore, I say, — 
 
 Jf^or. Peace, cousin, say no more : 
 
 And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
 And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
 I'll read you matter deep and dangerous : 
 As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit, 
 As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud. 
 On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 Hoi. If he fall in, good uight : — or sink or swim : — 
 Send danger from tlie east unto the west. 
 So honour cross it from the north to south, 
 And let them grapple ; — O ! the blood more stirs, 
 To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. 
 
 North. Imagination of some great exploit 
 Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
 
 Hoi. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap. 
 To pluck bright honour from the pale-fuc'd moon : 
 Or dive into the bottom of the deep. 
 Where fathom-line could never touch the gronnd. 
 And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
 So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear. 
 Without corrival, all her dignities: 
 But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship ! 
 
 TVor, He apprehends a world of figures here. 
 But not the form of what he should attend. — 
 Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
 Hot. I cry you mercy. 
 
 Wor. _ Those same noble Scots, 
 
 Thit are your prisoners, — 
 
 Hot. I'll k?ep them all ; 
 
 By heaven, he sliall not have a Scot of them : 
 No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not : 
 I'll keep them, by this hand. 
 
 Wor. You start away, 
 
 And lend no ear unto my purposes. — 
 Those prisoners you shall keep. 
 
 Hot. Nay, I will, that's flat :— 
 
 He said, he would not ransome Mortimer ; 
 Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; 
 But I will find him, when he lies asleep, 
 And in his ear I'll holla — Mortimer ! 
 Nay, 
 
 I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
 Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him. 
 To keep his anger stilt in .motion. 
 
 TVor. Hear yoa, 
 
 Cousi^ ; a word. 
 
 Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, 
 Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: 
 And that same sword-and-buck ler prince of Wales — 
 But that I think his father loves him not. 
 And would be glad he met with some mischance, 
 I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale. 
 
 Wor. Farewell, kinsman ! 1 will talk to you. 
 When you are better temper'd to attend. 
 
 JioriA. Why, what a wasp stung and impatient 
 Art thou, lo break into this woman's mood ; [fool 
 Tying thin<? ear to no toui^iie but tliine own ? 
 
 Hot. Why, look you, I am wiiipp'd and scourg'd 
 with rods. 
 
 Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hew 
 
 Of (his vile politician, Bolingbroke. 
 
 In Riclianl's time,— -VVhat do you call the place — 
 
 A pi igue upon 't ! — it is in Gloucestershire ; 
 
 'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept; 
 His uncle York : — where I first bow'd my knee 
 Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke, 
 When you and he came back from Raveuspurg. 
 North. At Berkley castle. 
 Hot. You say true : 
 Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 
 This fawning greyhound then did proffer nie 
 Look, — zvhen his infant-fortune catne to ag2, 
 And. — gentle Harry Percy, — and, kind coiisin, 
 O, the devil take such cozeners! — God forgive 
 
 me ! — 
 Good uncle, tell your tale, fori have done. 
 Wor. Nay, if you have not, tot ag liu ; 
 We'll stay your leisure. 
 Hot. I have done, ifailh. 
 
 Wor. Then once more to your Scottish pri- 
 soners. 
 Deliver them up without their ransome straight. 
 And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
 For powers in Scotland ; which, — for divers reasons, 
 Which I shall send you written, — be assur'd. 
 Will easily be granted. — You, my lord, — 
 
 {To NorthumberlancL) 
 Y'our son in Scotland being thus employ "d, 
 Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
 Of that same noble prelate well belov'd. 
 The archbishop. 
 
 Hot. OfYork, is't not? 
 Wor. True ; who bears hard 
 His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop. 
 I speak not this in estimation. 
 As what I tliink might be, but what I know 
 Is ruminated, plotted, and set down: 
 And only stays but to behold the face 
 Of that occasion, that shall bring it on. 
 
 Hot I smell it ; upon my life, it will do well. 
 North. Before the game's afoot, thou still let's! 
 slip. [plot :— 
 
 Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble 
 And then the power of Scotland, and of York,— 
 To join with Mortimer, ha ? 
 
 ff'or. And so they shall. 
 
 Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 
 Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, 
 To save our heads by raising of a head : 
 For, bear ojirselves as even as we can. 
 The king will always think him in our debt ; 
 And think we think ourselves unsatisfied. 
 Till he hath found a time to pay us home. 
 And see already, how he doth begin 
 To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
 
 Hot. He does, he does ; we'll be reveng'd on 
 
 him. 
 JFor. Cousin, farewell : — No further go in thi?, 
 Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
 When time is ripe (which will be suddenly) 
 I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer; 
 Where you and Douglas, and oui powers at once, 
 (.As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet. 
 To bear our fortunes in ourowa strong arms. 
 Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
 North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, 
 
 I trust. 
 Hot. Uncle, adieu : — O, let the hours be short. 
 Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud onr sport ! 
 
 :£xetM(/. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Rochester. An Inn 
 Enter a Carrier, with a lantern in hts nand. 
 \ Car. Heigh ho! An'tbenot four Dy the day, 
 I'll be hanged : Charles' wain is ov« cew chim- 
 ney, and yet our lioise not packed. hsx, ost , 
 Ost. [Within.) Pi.noa,wuin. 
 
328 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 J Car. I pr ythee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a 
 few flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the 
 withers out of all cess. 
 
 Enter another Carrier. 
 
 2 Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a 
 dog, and that is the next way to give pour jades the 
 Lots : this iioiise is turned upside down, since Robin 
 ostler died. 
 
 1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed, since the price 
 of oats rose ; it was the death of him. 
 
 2 Car. I think, this be the most villainous house 
 in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a 
 tench. 
 
 1 Car. Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er 
 a king in Christendom could be better bit than I have 
 
 een since the first cock. 
 
 2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er ajorden, 
 and then we leak in your chimney; and your cham- 
 ber-lie breeds fleas like a loach. 
 
 1 Car. What, ostler ! come away and be hanged, 
 come away. 
 
 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes 
 of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charingcross. 
 
 1 Car. 'Odsbody ! the turkeys in my pannier are 
 quite starved. — What, ostler ! — A plague on thee ! 
 hast thou never an eye in thy head? tanst not hear? 
 An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the 
 pate of thee, I am a very villain. — Come, and be 
 hanged : — Hast no faith in thee ? 
 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock ? 
 1 Car. I think it be two o'clock. 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my 
 gelding in the stable. 
 
 1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye : I know a trick worth 
 two of that, i'faith. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 
 
 2 Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? — Lend me thy lan- 
 tern, quoth a ? — marry, I'll see thee hanged first. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah, carrier, what time do you mean to 
 come to London ? 
 
 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, 
 I warrant thee. — Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call 
 up the gentlemen ; they will along with company, 
 for (hey have great charge. [Exeunt Carriers. 
 
 Gads. What, iio ! chamberlain ! 
 
 Cham. {Within.) At hand, quoth pick-purse. 
 
 Gads. That's even as fair as — at hand, quoth the 
 chamberlain; for thou variest no more from picking 
 of purses, than giving direction doth from labouring ; 
 thou lay'st the plot how. 
 
 Enter Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It holds 
 current, that I told you yesternight: There's a 
 franklin in the wild of Kent, hath brought three 
 hundred marks with him in gold : I hpard him tell 
 it to one of his company, last night at supper; a 
 kind of auditor; one, that hath abundance of charge 
 too, God knows what. They are up already, and 
 call for eggs and butter : they will away presently. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Ni- 
 cholas' clerks, I'll give thee this neck. 
 
 Cham. No, I'll none of it: I ir'ythee, keep that 
 for the hangman ; for, I know, thou worship'st saint 
 Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may. 
 
 Gadii. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? 
 if I hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows : for, if 
 I hang, old sir John hangs with me ; and, tliou 
 knowest, he's no starveling. Tut ! there are, other 
 Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for 
 sport sake, are content to do the profession some 
 grace, that would, if matters should be looked into, 
 tor their own credit sake, make all whole. I am 
 joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-sUtflF, six- 
 penny strikers ; none of these mad, mustachio pur- 
 ple hued malt-worms: but with nobility, and tran- 
 quillity i burgomasters, and great oneyers ; atjch as 
 
 can hold In , sucn as will strike sooner than speak, 
 and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than 
 pray : And yt-t 1 lie ; for they pray contiriualiy t 
 their saint, the commonwealth; or, rather, not pr 
 to her, but |irey on her; for they ride up and down 
 on her, and make her their boots. 
 
 Cliam. Wliat, the comnioiiwealth their boots? 
 will she hold out water in foul way? 
 
 Gads. She will, she will ; justice hath liquiired 
 her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure ; we have 
 the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. 
 
 Cham. Nay, by my faith; I think you are more 
 beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, for your 
 walking invisible. 
 
 Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a share 
 in our purchase, as I am a true man. 
 
 Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a 
 false thief. 
 
 Gads. Goto; Homo is a common name to all 
 men. Bid tiie ostler bring my gelding out of the 
 stable. Farewell, J'ou muddy knave- [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Road by Gadshill. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry, and Poms ; Bardolph and 
 Peto, at some distance. 
 
 Pains. Come, shelter, shelter; I have removed 
 Fa'staff's horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
 
 P. Hen. Stand close. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins ! 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal ; What a 
 brawling dost thou keep? 
 
 Fal. Where'.s Poins, Hal? 
 
 P. Hen. He is walked up to the lop of the hill; 
 I'll go seek him. {Pretends to seek Poins.) 
 
 Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's com- 
 pany : the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied 
 him I know not where. If I tra\el but four foot by 
 the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind. 
 Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, 
 if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have 
 forsworn his company hourly any tiine this two- 
 and twenty years ; and yet I am bewitched with the 
 rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me 
 medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged ; 
 it could not be else ; I have drunk medicines.- 
 Poins ! — Ha! — a plague upon you both! — Bar- 
 dolph! — Peto! — I'll starve, ere Til rob a foot fui 
 ther. .4n 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn 
 true man, and have these rogues, I am the veriest 
 varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards 
 of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles afoot 
 with me ; and the stony-hearted villains know it 
 well enough: A plague upon't, when thieves can- 
 not be true to one another! [They whistle.) Whew 1 
 — A plague upon you all ! Give me my horse, you 
 rogues, give me my horse, and be hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down ; lay thine 
 ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear 
 the tread of travellers. 
 
 Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, be- 
 ing down ? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so 
 far afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's ex- 
 chequer. VVhat a plague mean ye to colt me 
 thus ? 
 
 P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art 
 uncolted. 
 
 Fal. -I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my 
 horse ; good king's son. 
 
 P. Hen. Out, you rogue, shall I be your ostler ! 
 
 Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-apparenl 
 garters I If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I 
 have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy 
 tniies, let a cup of sack be :ny poison : When a 
 jest IS so forward, and afoot too, — I hate it. 
 Ekter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Stand ! 
 
 Fal. So I do, against my will. 
 
 Poins. O, 'tis our setter : I know his voice. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 329 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. What news ? 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye , on with your visors ; 
 there's money of the king's coming down the hill ; 
 'tis <;oinjj to the king's exchequer. [tavern. 
 
 Fal. Von lie, yon rogue ; tis going to the king's 
 
 Gads. 'I'liere's enough to make us all. 
 
 Fal To be hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. .Sirs, you four shall front them in the 
 narrow lane ; Ned Poins and I will walk lower : if 
 they 'scape from your encounter, tlien they light 
 on IIS. 
 
 Peto. How many be there of them? 
 
 Gads. Some eight, or ten. 
 
 Fal Zounds ! will they not rob us? 
 
 P. Hen. What, a coward, sir John Paunch? 
 
 Fal. Iiid' ed, [ am not Johnof Gaunt, your grand- 
 father : l>ut yet no coward, Hal. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. 
 
 Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the 
 hed^e ; when thou need'st him, there thou shalt 
 find him. Farewell, and stand fast. 
 
 Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be 
 hanged. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises? 
 
 Poins. Here, hard by; stand close. 
 
 [Exeunt P. Henry and Poins. 
 
 Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, 
 say 1 ; every man to his business. 
 
 Enter Travellers. 
 
 1 Trav. Come, neighbour ; the boy shall lead our 
 horses down the hill : we'll walk afoot awhile, and 
 ea.se our legs. 
 
 Thieves. Stand ! 
 
 Trav. Jesu bless us ! 
 
 Fal. Strike ; down with them ; cut the villains' 
 throats: Ah' whoreson caterpillars! bacon fed 
 knaves! they hate us youth: down with them; 
 fleece them. [for ever. 
 
 ] Trav. O, we are undone, both we and onrs, 
 
 Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves; Are ye un- 
 done ? No, ye lat chufl's ; I would, your store were 
 here! On. bacons, on I What, ye knaves? young 
 men must live ; You are grand-jurors, are ye ? We'll 
 jure ye, i'faith. 
 
 [Exeunt Fals. etc. driving the Travellers out. 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins. 
 
 P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men : 
 Now could thou and 1 rob the thieves, and go mer- 
 rily to London, it would be argument ibr a week, 
 laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. 
 
 Poins. Stand close, 1 hear them coming. 
 
 Re-enter Thieves. 
 Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then 
 to horse before day. An the prince and Poins be 
 not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring : 
 there's no more valour in that Poins, than in a wild 
 duck. 
 P. Hen. Yourmoney. {Rushing out upon them.) 
 Poins. Villains ! 
 
 {As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set 
 upon them. Falstaff, after a blow or two, 
 and the rest, run away, leaving their booty 
 behind them.) 
 P. Hen. Got with much ease. Nov? merrily to 
 horse : 
 The thieves are scatter'd, and po.ssess'd with fear 
 So strongly, that they dare not meet each other ; 
 Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
 Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death. 
 And lards the lean earth as he walks along: 
 Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
 Poins. How the rogue roar'd ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — Warkworth. A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Hotspdr, reading a letter. 
 ^~— But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be 
 
 well contented to be there, in respect of Vie love I 
 
 bear your house. — He could be contented, Why 
 
 is he not then ? In respect of the love he bears our 
 house: — he shows in this, he loiesliis own bam 
 better than he loves our house. ^Let me see some 
 more. Thepurj>ose you undertake is dangeroits — 
 Why, that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, 
 to sleep, to drink : but I tell you, my lord fool, out 
 of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, xafc-tw 
 The purpose you undertake is dangerous ; the 
 friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself, 
 unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the 
 counterpoise of so great an opposition. — .Nay you 
 so, say you so .'' I say imto you again, you are a 
 shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. VVi'iat a lack- 
 brain is this ! By the Lord, our plot is a good jilot as 
 ever was laid ; our friends true and constant : a good 
 plot , good friends, and fidl of ex^iectation : an 
 excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty, 
 spirited rogue is this ! Why, my lord of York 
 commends the plot, and the general course of the 
 action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I 
 could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my 
 father, my uncle, and myselfrlord Edmund Mortimer, 
 my lord of York, and Owen Gleudower ? Is tliere 
 not, beside, the Douglas ? Have I not all their letters, 
 to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month '? 
 and are they not, some of them, set forward already? 
 What a pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! you 
 shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold 
 heart, will he to the king, and lay ojien all our pro- 
 ceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to 
 buft'ets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk 
 with so honourable an action! Hang him I Li,-t him 
 tell the king. We are prepared : I will set forward 
 to-night. 
 
 Enter Lady Percy. 
 
 How now, Kate ? I must leave you within these two 
 hours. 
 
 Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
 For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
 A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ? 
 IVll me, sweet lord, what is't, that takes from thee 
 Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth; 
 And start so often, when thou sit'st alone? 
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
 And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
 To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy? 
 In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd. 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
 Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
 Cry, Courage ! — to the field! And thou hast talk'd 
 Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents. 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 
 Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin; 
 Of prisoners, ransome, and of soldiers slain. 
 And all the 'currents of a heady fight. 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war. 
 And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep. 
 That beads of sweat hath stood upon thy brow, 
 Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream :" 
 And in thy face strange motions ha\ e appear'd. 
 Such as we see, when men restrain their breath 
 On some great sudden haste. .O, what portents are 
 
 these ? 
 Some lieavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. [gone? 
 
 Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
 Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the 
 
 sheriff? 
 Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. 
 Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop ear, is it nol? 
 Serv. It is, my lord. 
 
 Hot. That roan shall be my tnrooe 
 
 Well, I will back him straigiit : O esperancti 
 
330 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act ir. 
 
 Bid Butler lead liim forth into the park. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 hctdy. But bear you, iny lord. 
 
 Hot. What say'st, my lady ? 
 
 Lady. What is it carries you away? 
 
 Hot. • My horse, 
 
 My love,, my horse. 
 
 Lady. Out, yoii mad-lieaded ape ! 
 
 A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, 
 As you are toss'd with. In faith, 
 I'll know your business, Plarry, that I will. 
 I fear, my brother Mortimer ooth stir 
 About liis title ; and hath sent for you, 
 To line his enterprize : But if you go — 
 
 Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 
 
 Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me 
 Directly to this question that I ask. 
 In faith. III break thy little finger, Harry, 
 An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
 
 Hot. Away, 
 Away, you tritler! — Love? — I love thee not, 
 I care not lor thee, Kate : this is no world. 
 To play with mnmmets, and to tilt with lips: 
 We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns. 
 And pass them current too. — Gods me, my horse ! — 
 What say'st thou, Kate ? what wouldst thou have 
 with me ? 
 
 Lady. Do you not love me ? do yon not, indeed ? 
 Well, do not then; for, since you love me not, 
 I will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
 Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. 
 
 Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
 And when I am a horse-back, I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; 
 I must not have you henceforth question me 
 Whitlier I go, nor reason whereabout : 
 Whither I must, I must ; and to conclude. 
 This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you wise; but yet no further wise. 
 Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ; 
 But yet a woman : and for secrecy. 
 No lady closer; for I well believe. 
 Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 
 And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate ! 
 
 Lady. How! so far? 
 
 Hot. Not an inch farther. But hark you, Kate ! 
 Whither I go, thither shall you go too ; 
 To-day will I set firth, to morrow you. — 
 Will this content you, Kate ? 
 
 Lady. It must, of force. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's 
 Head Tavern. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and PoiNS. 
 
 P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, comeoutcf that fat room, 
 and lend me thy hand to laugii a little. 
 
 Poins. Where hast been, Hal ? 
 
 P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst 
 three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the 
 very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn 
 brother to a leash of drawers ; and can call them 
 all by their christian names, as, — Tom, Dick, and 
 Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, 
 that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the 
 king of courtesy; and tell me fleitly I am no proud 
 Jack, like Falstatf ; but a Corinthian, a lad ot met- 
 tle, a good boy, — by the Lord, so they call me ; 
 and when I am king of England, I shall command 
 all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call — drink- 
 ing deep, dying scarlet : and when you breathe in 
 your watering, thev cry — hem ! and bid you play 
 it off. — To conclude, I am so good a proficient in 
 one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any 
 linker in his own language during my life. I tell 
 thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou 
 wert not with me in this acfioi. But, sweet Ned, 
 —to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this 
 pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand 
 by ttn under skinker; one that never spake other 
 Kagiish in nis life, ihaa—Eiy/it shilUmjs and six- 
 
 pence, and — You are welcome; with this shrill ad- 
 dition,— Priori, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard 
 in the Half-tnoon, or so. But, Ned, to rlrive away 
 the time till Falstatf come, I pr'ytlue, do thou stand 
 in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer, 
 to what end he gave me the sugbr; and do thou 
 never leave calling — Francis, that his tale to me may 
 be nothing but — anon. Step aside, and I'll show 
 thee a precedeut. 
 
 Poins. Francis ! 
 
 P. Henry. Thou art perfect. 
 
 Puins. Francis ! [Exit Poins. 
 
 Enter Francis. 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. — Look down into the 
 Pomegranate, Ralph. 
 
 P. Hen. Couie hither, Francis. 
 
 Fran. My lord. 
 
 P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ? 
 
 Fran. Forsooth, Five year, and as much as to — 
 
 Poins. { Within.) Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon. sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Five years ! by'riady, a long lease for 
 the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou 
 be so valiunt, as to play the coward with thy inden- 
 ture, and to show it a fair pair of heels, and run 
 from it ? 
 
 Fran. O lord, sir I I'll be sworn upon all the 
 books in England. I could find in my heart — 
 
 Poins. {Within.) Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? 
 
 Fran. Let me see, — About Michaelmas next I 
 shall be — 
 
 Poins. {FFithin.) Francis! 
 
 Fran. Anon, sir. — Pray you, stay a little, my 
 lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis : For the 
 sugar thou gavest me, — 'twas a pennyworth, was't 
 not ? 
 
 Fran. O lord, sir! I would, it had been two. 
 
 P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound : 
 ask ine when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. 
 
 Poins. ( Within.) Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Aimn, anon. 
 
 P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis,: but to- 
 morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, 
 indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis, — 
 
 Fran. My lord ? 
 
 P. Hen. Wilt thon rob this leathern-jerkin, crys- 
 tal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, 
 caddis-garter, smooth- tongue, Spanish-pouch, — 
 
 Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean? 
 
 P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard is your 
 only drink : for, look you, Francis, your white can 
 vas doublet will sully : in Barbary, sir, it cannot 
 come to so much. 
 
 Fran. What, sir? 
 
 Poins. ( Within.) Fraqcis ! 
 
 P. Hen. Away, you rogue : Dost thou not hear 
 them call ? [Here they both call him ; the Drawer 
 stands amazed, 7iot knowing which way to go. 
 
 Enter Vintner. 
 
 Vint. W^liat! stand'st thou still, and hear'st suf^h 
 a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit Fran.] 
 My lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are 
 at the door ; shall 1 let them in ? 
 
 P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open 
 the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins ! 
 
 Re-enter Poins. 
 
 Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff, and the rest of the 
 thieves, are at the door; Shall we be merry? 
 
 Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark 
 ye; What cunning match have yoti made with this 
 jest of the drawer? come, what's the issue? 
 
 P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have 
 showed themselves humours, since the old days of 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 331 
 
 goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present 
 twelve o'clKk at inidnight. 
 
 Re-enter Francis, tvli/i wine. 
 
 VVhat's o'clock, Francis ? 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. 'I'hat ever tliis fellow should have fewer 
 words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman ! 
 -His industry is — up stairs, and dpwn stairs; his 
 eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet 
 of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he, that 
 kills nie some six or seven dozen of Scots at a break- 
 lust, washes his hands, and snys to his wife, — 7^ 
 upon this quiet life! I want tvorL: my sweet 
 Marry, says slie, hoio many hast thou killed to- 
 day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he; 
 and answers. Some fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, 
 a trifle. 1 prythee, call in Falstaft' : I'll play Percy, 
 and that damned brawn sliall play dame Mortimer 
 his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Cull in ribs, 
 call in tallow. 
 
 Enter F.vLSTAFF, Gadsfull, Bardolpii, and 
 Peto. 
 
 Poin*. Welcome, Jack. Where hast ihou been ? 
 
 Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a ven- 
 geance too! marry, and amen! — Give nie a cup of 
 sack, boy. — Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether- 
 stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague 
 of all cowards ! — Give me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is 
 tliere no virtue extant? (1/e drinks.) 
 
 P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish 
 of butter? pitiful -hearted Titan, that melted at the 
 sweet tale of the sun ? if thou didst, then behold 
 that compound. 
 
 Fal. Y<iu rogue, here's lime in this sack too : 
 There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous 
 man : yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with 
 lime in it; a villaiaous coward. — Go thy ways, old 
 Jack; die when thou wilt; if manhood, good man- 
 hood, be n.it forgot upon the face of the earth, then 
 am I a shotten herring. There live not three good 
 men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat 
 and grows old : God help the while! a bad world, 
 I say I I would I were a weaver; I could sing 
 psalms or any thing : A plague of all cowards, I say 
 still. 
 
 P. Hen. How now, wool-sack ? what mutter you ? 
 
 Fal. A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out of 
 thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all 
 thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, 
 I'll never wear hair on ray face more. You prince 
 of Wales ! [the matter ? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man ! what's 
 
 Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; 
 and Poins there ? 
 
 Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me 
 coward, I'll stab thee. 
 
 Fal. I rail thee coward! I'll see thee damned 
 ere I call thee coward ; but I would give a thousand 
 pound, I could run as fast as thou canst. You are 
 straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who 
 sees your back : Call you that backing of your 
 friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me them 
 that will face nie. — Give me a cup ot sack : — I am a 
 rogue, if I drunk to day. 
 
 P. Hen. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped sitice 
 thou drunk'st last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, 
 still Siiv 1. {He drinks.) 
 
 P. Hen Wliats the matter? 
 
 Fal. Wliat's the matter ? there be four of us here 
 have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. 
 
 P. Hen. Where is it, Jiick? wliere is it? 
 
 Fal. VVliere is it? taken from us it is : a hundred 
 upon fo!ir of us. 
 
 P. Hen. What, a hundred, man? 
 
 Fa/. 1 am a rogue, if I %vpre not at half-sword 
 witii a dozen of tliem two hours together. 1 have 
 6>;ap'd by miracle. 1 am eight times thrust through 
 
 the doublet; four, through the hose; my biickler 
 cut through and through ; my sword hacked iine a 
 hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since 
 I was a man: all would not do. A pln^.ue of all 
 cowards! — Let them speak : if they speak more or 
 less than truth, they are villains, aud tUe sons ot 
 darkness. 
 
 P. Hen. Speak, sirs; bow was it? 
 
 Gads. We four set upon some dozen, 
 
 Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. 
 
 Gads. And bound them. 
 
 Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every maaa- 
 them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 
 
 Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven 
 fresh raen set upon us, (the other. 
 
 Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in 
 
 P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all:' 
 
 Fal. All? I know not what ye call, all; but if I 
 fought ni)t with fifty of them, ! aiu a bunch of 
 radish : if there were not two or three iind fifty 
 upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged 
 creature. [of tliera. 
 
 Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some 
 
 Fal. Nay, that's past praying for : for I have 
 peppered two of them : two, I am sure, I ha»e paid ; 
 two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, 
 Hal, — if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me 
 horse. Thou knoweat my old ward; — here I lay, 
 and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram 
 let drive at me, (now. 
 
 P. Hen. VVhat, four? thou said'st but two, even 
 
 Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. 
 
 Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. 
 
 Fal. The.se four came all a-front, and mainl; 
 thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but took all 
 their seven points in my target, thus. 
 
 P. Hen. Sevea? why, there were but four, even 
 
 Fal. lu buckram. [now. 
 
 Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 
 Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. 
 
 P. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone ; we siiall have 
 more anon. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? 
 
 P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, .Tack. 
 
 Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listenicg io. 
 These nine in buckram, that I told thee of, 
 
 P. Hen. So, two more already. 
 
 Fal. Their points being broken, 
 
 Poins. Down tell tiieir hose. 
 
 Fal. Began to give me ground : But I followed 
 me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a 
 thought, seven of the eleven I paid. 
 
 P. Hen. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown 
 out of two ! 
 
 Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three mis- 
 begotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, 
 and let drive at me ; — for it was so dark, Hal, that 
 thou conldstnot see iliy hand. 
 
 P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets 
 them; gross as a mountain, open, palpiible. Why, 
 thou clay brained guts; thou knotty pa ted fool; 
 thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tailow-keech, — 
 
 Fal. What, art tliou mad ? art thou mad ? is not 
 the truth, the truth ! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these 
 men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou 
 couldst not see thy hand ? come, tell us your rea- 
 son ; What sayest thou to this ? 
 
 Poins. Come, your reason. Jack, your reason. 
 
 Fal. What, upon compulsion ? No ; were I at 
 the strapijado, or all the racks in the world, I 
 would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a 
 reason on compulsion I if reasons were a? plenty as 
 blackberries, 1 would give no man a reason upon 
 compulsion, I. 
 
 P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this 
 san_><uiue cov/ard, this bed presser this hor»e-l>a«;k 
 breaker, this huge hill offlesh; — 
 
 Fal. Away, you starveling, you eli-skin, you 
 
332 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 dried neat's-tongue,. buU's-pizzle, you stock-fish, 
 — O, for breath to utter wiiat is iiice thee ! — you 
 tailor's yard, you slicath, you bow-case, you vile 
 slandins; tuck ; 
 
 P. Hen. Well, breathe a while, and then to \t 
 again : and when thou liast tired tiiyself in base 
 comparisons, hear me speak but this. 
 
 Poins. Mark, Jack. 
 
 P. Hen. We two s;iw you four set on four ; you 
 bound tlieni, and were masters of their wealth. — 
 Mark now, liow plain a tale sliall put you down. — 
 Then did vie two set on you four : and, with a 
 word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it ; 
 yea, and can show it you here in the house :— and. 
 Falstalf, you carried your guts away as nimbly, 
 with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and 
 still ran and roared, as ever I heard bidl-calf 
 What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou 
 hast done; and then say, it was in tight! What 
 trick, what de\ice, what starting-hole, canst thou 
 now find out, to hide thee from this open and ap- 
 parent shaiue ? [thou now ? 
 
 Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack : What trick hast 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that 
 made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters : Was it for 
 me to kill tli<? heir apparent? Should I turn upon 
 the true prince? VVhy, thou knowcst, I am as 
 valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct ; the lion 
 will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great 
 matter ; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think 
 the better of myself and thee, during my life ; I, 
 for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, 
 by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. 
 
 Hostess, clap to the doors ; watch to-night, 
 
 pray to-morrow. — Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of 
 sold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! 
 What, shall we be merry ? shall we have a play 
 extempore ? 
 
 P. hen. Content; — and the argument shall be 
 thy running away. [me. 
 
 Fal. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 Host. My lord the prince, 
 
 P. Heti. How now, my lady the hostess ? what 
 say'st thou to me ? 
 
 Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the 
 court at door, would speak with you : he says he 
 comes from your father. 
 
 P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a 
 royal man, and send him back again to ray mother. 
 
 Fal. What manner of man is he ? 
 
 Host. An old man, 
 
 Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at njid- 
 night ? — Shall I give him his answer? 
 
 P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do. Jack. 
 
 Fal 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, sirs; by'r lady, you fought fair; 
 — so did you, Peto ; — so did you, Bardolph : you 
 are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, you will 
 not touch the true prince ; no, fy ! 
 
 Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
 
 P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Fal- 
 staflTs sword so hacked ? 
 
 Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger ; and 
 said, he would swear truth out of England, but he 
 would make you believe it was done in fight; and 
 persuaded us to do the like. 
 
 Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear- 
 grass, to make them bleed ; and then to beslubber 
 our garments with it, and to swear it was the blood 
 o true men. I did that I did not this seven years 
 bef ire, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices. 
 
 _ P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack 
 eigliteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, 
 and ever since thou hast blushed extempore : Thou 
 liadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou 
 ran'st away ; What instinct hadst thou for it ? 
 
 Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? do 
 yuu behold these exhalations? 
 
 P. Hen. I do. 
 
 Bard. What think you they portend ? 
 /•'. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses. 
 Bard. Choler my lord, if rightly taken. 
 P. Hen. No, il' rightly taken, halter. 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff. 
 
 Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone 
 How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How 
 long is"t ago. Jack, since thou sawest thine own 
 knee ? , 
 
 Fal. My own knee r wlieo I was about thy years, 
 Hal, I was not an eagle's talon in the waist; 1 
 could have crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: 
 A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up 
 like a bladder. Tliere's villainous news abroad • 
 here was sir John Bracy from your father; yon 
 must to the court in the morning. That same mad 
 fellow of the North, Percy; and he of Wales, that 
 gave Amaimon the bastinado, and made Lucifer 
 cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman 
 upon the cross of a Welsh hook, — What, a plague, 
 call you him ? 
 
 Poins. O, Glendower. 
 
 Fal. Owen, Owen ; the same ; — and his son-in- 
 law, Mortimer ; and old Northumberland ; and 
 that sprightly Sc<it of Scots, Douglas, that runs 
 o'horseback up a hill perpendicular. 
 
 P. Hen. He, that rifles at high speed, and with 
 his pistol kills a sparrow flying. 
 
 Fal. You have hit it. 
 
 P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow, 
 
 Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in Iiim ; 
 he will not run. 
 
 P. Hen. VVhy, what a rascal art thou then, to 
 praise him so for running ? 
 
 Fal. O'horseback, ye cuckoo I but, afoot, he 
 will not budge a toot. 
 
 P. Hen, Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
 
 Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is 
 there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue- 
 caps more: Worcester is stolen away to-night; 
 thy father's beard is turned white with the news; 
 you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mack- 
 erel. 
 
 P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot 
 June, and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy 
 maidenheads as they buy hob-nails, by the hun- 
 dreds. 
 
 Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is 
 like, we shall have good trading that way.— But, 
 tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? thou 
 being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out 
 three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, 
 that spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art 
 thou not horribly afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill 
 at it? [instinct. 
 
 P. Hen. Not a whit, i'faith ; I lack some of thy 
 
 Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-mor- 
 row, when thou comest to thy father: if thou love 
 me, practise an answer. 
 
 P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and ex- 
 amine me upon the particulars of my life. 
 
 Fal. Shall I? content :— This chair shall be my 
 state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my 
 crown. 
 
 P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy 
 golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy pre- 
 cious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown ! 
 
 Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite oir'; 
 of thee, now sbalt thou be moved.— Give me a cup 
 of sack, to make mine eyes look red, that it may be 
 thought I have wept ; for I must speak m passion, 
 and I will do it in king Cambyses' vein. 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here is my leg. 
 
 Fal. And here is my speech -—Stand aside, no- 
 bdity. 
 
 Host. This is excellent sport, i'faith. 
 
 Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tean 
 are vain. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 333 
 
 Hott. 0, the father, how he holds his counte- 
 nance ! [queeu, 
 
 Fiil. Fur CJotl's sake, lords, convey my trisli'iil 
 For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes. 
 
 Host. O rare I he dotii it as like one of tliese 
 harlotry players, as I ever see. 
 
 Fal. Peace, g-ood pint-irot; peace, good tickle- 
 brain. — Harry, 1 do not only marvel where tliou 
 spenilest tliy time, but, also how thou art accom- 
 panied : i'or though the camomile, the more it is 
 trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more 
 it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my 
 son, I havf, partly thy mother's word partly my own 
 opinion; but chiefly, a villainous trick of thine eye, 
 and a foolish hanging of (hy nether lip, that doth 
 warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies 
 the ])oint: — Why, being son to me, art thou so 
 |>ointed at? Sh:»ll the blessed sun of heaven prove 
 a micher, and eat blackberries? a <iuestion not to be 
 asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and 
 take purses? a question to be asked. There is a 
 thing, liarry, which tiioii hast often heard of, and it 
 is known to many in our laud by the name of pitch : 
 this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; 
 so doth the company thou keepest: for, Harry, now 
 I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears ; not 
 in pleasure, but in passion; not in words only, hut 
 in woes also: — And yet there is a virtuous man, 
 whom I have often noted in thy company, but I 
 know not his name. 
 
 P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your 
 majesty ? 
 
 Fal. A good portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent; 
 of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble 
 carriage ; and as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r 
 lady, inclining to threescore ; and now 1 remember 
 me, his name is Falstaff": if that man should be 
 lewdly given, he deceiveth me ; for, Harry, I see 
 virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known by 
 the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily 
 I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstalf : hiui keep 
 with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou 
 naughty \arlet, tell me, where hast thou been this 
 
 onth ? 
 
 P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king ? Do thou 
 stand for me, and I'll play my father. 
 
 Fal. Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, 
 so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me 
 uu by the heels for a rabbit-sucker, or a poulter's 
 
 P. Hen. Well, here I am set. [hare. 
 
 Fal. And here I stand : — judge, my masters. 
 
 P. Hen. Now, Harry ! whence come you ? 
 
 Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. The complaints 1 hear of thee are griev- 
 ous. 
 
 Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false: — nay, I'll 
 tickle ye for a young prince, i'faith. 
 
 P. Hen. Swearest thou, imgracious boy? hence- 
 forth ne'er look on me. Thou art violently carried 
 away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in 
 the likeness of a fat old man : a tim of man is thy 
 companion. Why dost thou converse with that 
 trunk of humours, that bolting-hutcii of beastliness, 
 that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of 
 sack, that stufl'ed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted 
 Manniiigtree ox with the p>idding in his belly, tnat 
 reverend vice, that grey iiiiquity, that father ruffian, 
 that vanity in years? Wherein is he gootl, but to 
 taste s:ick and drink it? wherein nt*at and cleanly, 
 but to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, 
 but in craft ? wherein crafty, but in villainy? wliere- 
 in villainous, but in all things? wherein worthy, 
 but in niithing ? 
 
 Fal. I would: your grace would take me with 
 you; \V hoMi means your grai'e ? 
 
 P. Hen. Tjiat villainous abomiiinble uiisleader of 
 youth, f'alstiift', (bit old white bt-ardt-d S.it^in. 
 
 Fal My lord, the num I know. 
 
 P. Ht^H I know, thou dost. 
 
 Fal. Uut to say, 1 know more harm iu hiui than 
 
 in myself, were to siy more than I know. That be 
 is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witnegs 
 it: but tliat he is (saving your reverence,) a whore- 
 master, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be 
 a' fault, God help the wicked ! IftobeoUi and 
 merry be a sin, then many an old host tiiat I know, 
 is damned : if to be fat be to be hated, then Pliaraoh's 
 lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord ; ba- 
 nish Pe to, banish Bardolph, banisii Poins: but for 
 sweet Jack Falstafi', kind Jack Falslaft', true Jack 
 FalstalF, valiant Jack Falstalf, and therefore niore 
 valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaft', banish not 
 him thy Harry's company ; banish plump Jack, aud 
 banish all the world. 
 
 P. Hen. I do, I will. {A knoclimj heard.) 
 
 [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph, running. 
 
 Bard. O, my lord, my lord ; the sherifl', with a 
 most monstrous watch, is at the door. 
 
 Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I have 
 much to say iu the behalf of that Falstafl'. 
 
 Re-enter Hostess, hastily. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord ! — 
 
 Fal. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddle- 
 stick : What's the matter ? 
 
 Host. The sherifl' and all the watch are at the 
 door : they are come to search the house : Shall I let 
 them in ? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? never call a true piece 
 of gold a counterfeit : thou art essentially mad, with- 
 out seeming so. [instinct. 
 
 P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without 
 
 Fal. 1 deny your major: if you will deny the 
 sheriff, so ; if not, let him enter : if I become not a 
 cart as well as another man, a plague on my bring- 
 ing up I I hope, I shall as soon be strangled with a 
 halter, as another. 
 
 P. Hen. Go, hide thee behmd the arras ; — tlie rest 
 walk up above. Now, my masters, foi a true face, 
 and good conscience. 
 
 Fal. Uoth which I have had : but their date is out, 
 and therefore I'll hide tne. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Prince and Poins, 
 
 P. Hen. Call in the sherifl".— 
 
 Enter Sheriff and Carrier. 
 Now, master sheriff; what's your will with me . 
 
 Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry 
 Hath follow'd certain men unto this house. 
 
 P. Hen. What men? [lord: 
 
 Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious 
 A gross fat man. 
 
 Car. As fat as butter. 
 
 P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here; 
 For I myself at this time have employ'd him. 
 And, shetift", I will engage my word to thee 
 That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, 
 Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
 For any thing he shall be chargd withal. 
 And so let me entreat you leave the house. 
 
 Sher. I will, my lord: Tliere are two gentlemen 
 Have in this robberv lost three hundred marks. 
 
 P. Hen. It may be so : if he have robb'd these 
 He shall be' answerable ; and so, farewell. [men, 
 
 Sher. Good ni^ht, my noble lord. 
 
 P. Hen. I think it is good morrow ; is it not ? 
 
 Sher. Indeed, my fird, I think it be two o'clock 
 [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. 
 
 P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as 
 Paul's. Go, call hint forth. 
 
 Poins. Falstaff! fast asleep behind the arras, 
 and snorting likn a horse. 
 
 P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: 
 Search iiis iiockets. {Poins searches.) What hast 
 thou found ? 
 
 Poins. Niithiiig but papers, my lord. 
 
 /'. Hen. Let's see what they be : read tbeok 
 
 Poin.i. Item, a capon, 2s. "id. 
 Item, Sauce, 4d. 
 
834 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act in 
 
 Item, Sack, Iwo gallons, 5a. 8d. 
 
 Item, Anchovies -ind sack after supper, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Item. Bread, a halfpenny. 
 
 P. Hen. O monstrous ! but one half-pennyworth 
 of breail to this intolerable deal of sack : — What 
 there is else, keep close; we'll read i* at more 
 advantage : there let him sleep till day. I'll to the 
 court in the morning : we must all to the A'ars, and 
 thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this 
 fat rogue a charge ol foot: and, I know, his death 
 will be a march of twelve-score. The money shall 
 be p;iid back again with advantage. Be with me 
 betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, 
 I'oins. 
 
 Poins. Good raoiTow, good my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 ScENH I. — Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's 
 House. 
 
 Enter HoTSPUR, WORCESTER, MoRTIMER, and 
 
 Glendovver. 
 
 Mori. These promises are fair, the parties sure. 
 And our induction, full of prosperous hope. 
 
 Hot. Lord Mortimer, — and cousin Glendower, — 
 
 Will you sit down? 
 
 And, uncle Worcester: — A plague upon it I 
 I have forgot the map. 
 
 Glen. No, here it is. 
 
 Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur: 
 For by that name as o(t as Lancaster 
 Doth speiik of you, his cheek looks pale ; and with 
 A rising sii;h, he wisheth you in heaven. 
 
 Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears 
 Owen GIf ndower s|)oke of. 
 
 Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity. 
 The front of heaven was full of fierv shapes, 
 Of burning crest ents ; and, at my birth, 
 The frrtnie ami huge foundation of the earth 
 iJliakVl like a coward. 
 
 H^it. Why, so it would have done 
 
 At llie same season, if your mother's cat had 
 Bnt kitten d, though yourself had ne'er been born. 
 
 Glend. I say, the earth did shake, when I was 
 born. 
 
 Hot. And [ say, the earth was not of my mind. 
 If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. 
 
 Glend. Tiie heavens were all on fire, the earth did 
 tremble. (on fire. 
 
 Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens 
 And not ID fear of your nativity. 
 Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 In strange irruptions: oft the teeming earth 
 Is with a kind of cholic pinch'd and vex'd 
 By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 Within her vvon.b; which tor enlargement striving, 
 Shakes ttie old beldame earth, and topples down 
 Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth, 
 Our grandam earth, having this distemperature. 
 In passion shook. 
 
 Glend. Cousin, of many men 
 
 I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
 To tell you once again, — that at my birth, 
 The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ; 
 The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
 These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; 
 And ail tne courses of my life do show, 
 I am not in the roll of coinmon men. 
 Where is iie living, — clipp'd in with the sea 
 That chidts the banks of England, Scotland, 
 
 Wales,— 
 Wliich calls lue pupil, or hath read to me ? 
 And bring him out, that is but woman's son. 
 Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, 
 .And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
 
 Hoi. I think, there is no man speaks better 
 
 WeUh : 
 
 I will to dinner. [mad. 
 
 Mart. Peace, cousin Percy ; you will make him 
 
 Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty derpi 
 
 Hot. Why, so can 1 : or so can any man : 
 But will they come, when you do call for them.'' 
 
 Glend. Why, I can teach 3 ou, cousin, to com 
 The devil. [mnnd 
 
 Hot. And I can teach thee, coz. to shame the 
 devil. 
 By telling truth : Tell truth and shame the devil. — 
 If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither. 
 And I'll be sworn, I liave power to shame him 
 
 hence. 
 O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.— 
 
 Mort. Come, come, 
 No more of this unprofitable chat. 
 
 Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke 
 made head 
 Against my power : thrice from the banks of Wye, 
 And sandy bottom'd Severn, have I sent him. 
 Bootless home, and weather-beaten back. [too ! 
 
 Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather 
 How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name ? 
 
 Glend. Comt, here's the map; Shall we divide 
 our righi. 
 According to our three-fold order ta'en ? 
 
 Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it 
 Into three limits, very equally : 
 England, from Trent and Severn hitherto. 
 By south and east, is to my part assign'd : 
 All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore. 
 And all the fertile land within that bound, 
 To Owen Glendower: — and, dear coz, to yoa. 
 The remnant northward, lying oil' from Trent. 
 And our indentures tripartite are drawn : 
 Which being sealed interchangeably, 
 (A business that this night may execute,) 
 ro-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I, 
 And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth. 
 To meet your fatiier, and the Scottish power. 
 As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
 My father Glendovver is not ready yet. 
 Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days :— 
 Within that space, (to Glend.J you may have drawn 
 
 together. 
 Your tenants, fnends, and neighbouring gentlemen. 
 
 Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords. 
 And in my conduct shall your ladies come : 
 From whom you now must steal, and take no leave; 
 For there will be a world of wp.ter shed, 
 Upon the parting of your wives and you. [here. 
 
 Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north fron) Burton 
 In quantity equals not one of yours . 
 See, how this river comes me cranking in. 
 And cuts me, from the best of all my land, 
 A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle out. 
 I'll have the current in this place damm'd up : 
 And here the smug and silver Trent shall run. 
 In a new channel, fair and evenly. 
 It shall not wind with such a deep indent. 
 To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 
 
 Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see il 
 
 Mort. Yea, [doth 
 
 But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up 
 Witti like advantage on the other side ; 
 Gelding the opposed ctmlinent as much. 
 As on the other side it takes from you. [here 
 
 Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him 
 And on this north side win this cape of land ; 
 And tlven he runs straight Hiid even. 
 
 Hot. I'll hav e it so ; a little charge will do it 
 
 Glend. I will not have it alter'd. 
 
 Hut. Will not you? 
 
 Glend. No, nor you shall not. 
 
 Hut. Who shall say me nay ? 
 
 Glend. Why, that will I. 
 
 Hot. ' Let me not understand you then 
 
 Speak it in Welsh. 
 
 Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you; 
 For I was train'd up in tlie English i^ourt: 
 Where, being but young, I irained to the hant 
 Many an English clitty, lovely wt-lj, 
 
^KXE 1. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 335 
 
 And ttave the tongue a helpful oniarnent ; 
 A virtue, tliat was never seen in yon. 
 
 Hut. Marry ; and I'm ^ lad of it witli all my heart ; 
 I had ratht-r be a kitten, and cry — mew, 
 Than one of these sam*" metre ballad-mongers; 
 I had rather hear a brazen caiistick tiiru'd, 
 Or a dry wiieel grate on an asle-lree ; 
 And tliat would set my teeth notliing on edge, 
 Nothing so nuich a.s mincing poetry ; 
 'Tis like tlie fo/j'd gait of a iihuflling nag. 
 
 Glend. Cof-.e, yon shall have Trent tiirn'd. 
 
 Hvl. I d« oot care : Til give thrice as much land 
 Yo any we'.i dest- rving friend ; 
 But, in the way of bargain, mark ye nie, 
 I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
 Are the indentures drawn '\ shall we begone ? 
 
 G'.eiid. The moon shines fair, you may away by 
 ri' haste the writt- r, and, withal, (night : 
 
 fireak with your wives of your departure hence : 
 I am afraid, my daughter will run mad. 
 So mtidi she doatethun her Mortimer. [Exit. 
 
 Alurl. Fy. cousin Percy ! how you cross my father ! 
 
 Hut I cannot choose ■ sometmies he aiifjeis me, 
 \\ ith telling me of the moldwarp and the ant. 
 Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies; 
 .And of a dnigon and a finless tisii, 
 A clip-wing'd grilliu, and a moulten raven, 
 A couching lion, and a ramping <at, 
 And such a deal of skin>ble-sk3mble stuff 
 As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,^— 
 He held me but last night, a* least nine hours. 
 In reckoning up the several devils" names. 
 That were liis lackeys : I cried, humph, — and, well, 
 
 —go to, — 
 But mark'd liiin not a word. O, he's as tedious 
 As a tired horse, a railing wife; 
 Worse llian a .suu)ky house : — I had rather live 
 With cheese aad garlic, in a windmill, far. 
 Than irft\ on cat>-s, and have him talk to me. 
 In any suiuiner-luiuse in Christendom. 
 
 Aloft. In f.iitli, he is a worthy gentleman; 
 Exceedingly well read, and profited 
 5p. strange cunctalmeuls ; valiant as .1 lion, 
 And wonil'rous ^ilfable ; and as lioiintitul 
 As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 
 He hulds your temper in a high respect, 
 And curbs himself even of his natural scope, 
 \\ hen you do cross his humour; 'laith, he does: 
 I warrant you, that man is not alive, 
 Migiitso have tempted him as you ha«edone. 
 Without the taste of danger or reproof; 
 And do not u.se it oft, let me entreat you. 
 
 Wor. In fa. til, my lord, you are too wilful-blame ; 
 And since your coming hitlier have done, enough 
 To put him <|:iite br-side his patience. 
 You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
 Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, 
 
 blood. 
 (And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) 
 Yet olteutimes it doth present harsh rage. 
 Defect of maimers, want of government. 
 Pride, haiightiuess, opinion, and disdain : 
 The least of which, haunting a nobleman, 
 Loseth men's iit-arts; and leaves behind & stain 
 Upon tlie beauty of all parts besides, 
 Beeuiiiiig tliem of coiiiiiieiid.ition. [speed'. 
 
 Hot. \V eil, i am school'd ; good manners be your 
 Here come our wives, and let ns take our leave. 
 
 J{e enter (JbENDOWER, with the Ladies. 
 
 Mart. This is the deadly spile that angers nie, — 
 My wife can speak no Kaglish. I no Welsh. 
 
 Gtfvd. Aiy daughter weeps; she will not part 
 with you. 
 She'll be a soldier loo, she'll to the wars. 
 
 Mart. (Jiioil lather, tell her, — that she, and my 
 aunt I't ny. 
 Sball follow ill yiiir i-ondiirt speedily. 
 
 (Giendi'Wi-r ,s/ie«(-.%- to his dfiiiijhtrr in Welsh, 
 and she answers him in the same.) 
 
 Glend. She's desperate here : a peevish self- 
 vvill'd harlotry. 
 One no persuasion can do good upon. 
 
 CLady M. speaks to Mart, in Welsh.) 
 
 Mart. I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh 
 Which thou poorest down from these swellin hea- 
 I am too perlect in; and, but for shame, [vens. 
 
 In such a parley would I answer thee. 
 
 (Lady M. speaks.J 
 I understand thy kisses, and thou mine 
 And that's a feeling disputation : 
 But I will never be a truant, Kive, 
 Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy t<mguc! 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd. 
 Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower. 
 With ravishing division to her lute. 
 
 Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. 
 (Lady M. speats again.) 
 
 Mart. O, I am ignorance itself in this 
 
 Glend. She bids you. 
 Upon the wanton rushes lay you down. 
 And rest your gentle head upon her lap. 
 And she will sing the song that pleaseth yon. 
 And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep. 
 Charming your b ood with pleasing heaviness; 
 Making such ditVerence 'tvvixt wrke and sleep 
 As is ttie difference betwixt day and night. 
 The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
 Begins his golden progress in the east. [sing: 
 
 Mort. With all my heart I'il sit, and hear bejr 
 By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. 
 
 Glend. Do so ; 
 And those musicians, that shall play to yo , 
 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence; 
 Yet straii>ht they shall be here : sit, and attend. 
 
 Hot. Cimie, Kal'^, thou art perfect in lying down: 
 Co.ne, quick, quick ; that I may lay my head id ' 
 
 Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. [thy lap. 
 
 (Glendoioer speaks some Welsh words, and then 
 the music plays.J 
 
 Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands 
 Welsh ; 
 And 'tis no marvel, he's so humourous. 
 By'r lady, he's a good musician. 
 
 Lady P. Then should y((u be nothing but musi- 
 cal : for you are altogether governed by humours. 
 Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. 
 
 Hot. 1 had rather hear Lady, my bi^ach, howl in 
 Irish. 
 
 Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken: 
 
 Hot. No 
 
 Lady P. Then be still. 
 
 Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault 
 
 Lady P. Now God help thee ! 
 
 Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. 
 
 Lady P. What's that? 
 
 Hot. Peace ! she sings. 
 
 (A fVelsh Song, sung by Lady itf J 
 
 Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. 
 
 Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. 
 
 Hot. Not yours, in good sooth ! 'Heart, you sweai 
 like a coiiifit-niaker's wife! Not you, in good sooth 
 jnd. As true as I live ; and. As God shall mer ^ 
 me ; and. As sure as day : 
 And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
 As if thou never walk'dst further than Finsbury, 
 Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art, 
 A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth. 
 And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 
 'J'o velvet guards, and Sunday-citizens. 
 Come, sing. 
 
 Lady P. I will not sing. 
 
 Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red- 
 breast teacher. An the indenfuies be drawu. I'li 
 away within these two hours ; and so come in when 
 yon will. \Exit.] [slow, 
 
 Glend. Come, ome. lord Mortimer; you are as 
 As hot lord Peicy is on tire to go. 
 
336 
 
 FIRST PART OP 
 
 Act III. 
 
 By this our book's drawn ; we'll but seal, and then 
 To horse immediately. 
 Mart. With all my heart. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter King Henhy, Princeof Wales, and Lords. 
 
 K. Hen. Lords, S've "s leave: the Prim-.e of 
 Wales and I, 
 Must have some conference : But be near at hand, 
 For we shall presently have need of yon.— 
 
 [Exeunt Lords. 
 I know not whether God will ha\e it so. 
 For some displeasing service I have done, 
 That in his secret doom, out of my blood 
 Ke'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
 But tliou dost, in thy passages of life, 
 Make me believe,— that thou art only mark'd 
 For the hot \ engeance and the rod of heaven. 
 To punish my mis-treadings. Tell nie else. 
 Could such inordinate, and low desires. 
 Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at- 
 tempts. 
 Such barren pleasures, rude society. 
 As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to. 
 Accompany tlie greatness of thy blood, 
 And bold their level with thy princely heart ? 
 
 P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could 
 Quit all otfences with as clear excuse. 
 As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge 
 Myself of many I am charg'd withal : 
 Yet such extenuation let me beg. 
 As, in leproof of many tales devis'd, — 
 Which oft tiie ear oi' greatness needs must hear,— 
 By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers, 
 I may, lor some things true, wherein my youth 
 Hath faulty wander'd and irregular. 
 Find pardon (m my true submission. [Harry, 
 
 K Hen. God pardon thee !— yet let me wonder. 
 At thy ailections, which do hold a wing 
 Quite Irom the flight of all thy ancestors. 
 Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, 
 Which by thy younger brother is supplied ; 
 And art almost an alien to the hearts 
 Of all tiie court and princes of my blood : 
 The hope and expectation of thy time 
 Is ruin'd ; and the soul of every man 
 Propiietically does fore-think thy fall. 
 Had I so lavish of my presence been. 
 So comiiion-hackney'd in the eyes of mctt 
 So stale and cheap to vulgar company ; 
 Opinion, that did help me to the crown. 
 Had still kept loyal to possession ; 
 And left me in reputeless banishnjent, 
 A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 
 But, like a comet, 1 was wonder'd at : 
 That men would tell their children. This is he ; 
 Others would say,— ^/^'Aere/' ff'hicA is Boling- 
 Aud then I stole all courtesy from heaven, [broke ! 
 And dress'd myself in sucli hiiuniuy. 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
 Loud shouts and salntitions from their mouths. 
 Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
 Thus did i keep my person fresh, and new; 
 My presence, like a robe |)Oiitilical, 
 Ne'*r §een, but wonder'd at : and so my state. 
 Seldom, but siniipluois, sliowed like a feast; 
 And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 
 The skip|)ing king, he ambled up and down 
 With sh,illi!W jesters, and rash bavin wits. 
 Soon kindled, and soon burn'd : carded his state ; 
 Mingled his royalty with capering fools ; 
 Iiud his great name profaned with their scorns ; 
 And gave iiis countenance, against his name. 
 To laugii at gibins? boys, and stand the push 
 Ofcveiv beardless vain comparative: 
 Orew a companion to the common streets, 
 BnTeoti'd himself to popularity : 
 That u ..j, ..» .; shallow'd by men's eyes. 
 
 They surfeited with honey ; and began 
 
 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 
 So, when he harl occasion to be seen. 
 
 He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with siicli eyea^ , 
 
 As, sick and blunted with community. 
 
 Afford no extraordinary gaze. 
 
 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty, 
 
 VVheii it shines seldom in admiring eyes : 
 
 But rather drowzVI, and hung their eye-lids down. 
 
 Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect 
 
 As cloudy men use to their adversaries ; 
 
 Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and folk 
 
 And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou j 
 
 For thou hast lost thy princely privilege. 
 
 With vile participation ; not an eye 
 
 But is a-weary of thy common sight. 
 
 Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more ; 
 
 Which now doth that I would not have it do. 
 
 Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 
 P' Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious 
 Be more myself. [lord, 
 
 K. Hen. For all the world. 
 
 As thou art to this hour, was Richard tlien 
 When 1 from France set foot at Ravenspurg ; 
 And oven as I was then is Percy now. 
 Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot. 
 He hatli more worthy interest to the state, 
 Thau thou, the shadow of succession : 
 For, of no right, nor colour like to right. 
 He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ; 
 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ; 
 And, being no more in debt to years than thou. 
 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishoi)S on. 
 To bloody battles, and to bruising arms. 
 Wiiat never-dying honour hath he got 
 Against renowned Douglas ; whose high deeds 
 VVhose hot incursions, and great name in arras 
 Holds from all soldiers chief majority. 
 And military title capital. 
 
 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ? 
 Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing clothea. 
 This infant warrior, in his enterprises 
 Discomfited great Douglas ; ta'en him once. 
 Enlarged him, and made a friend of him. 
 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up. 
 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
 And what say you to this ? Percy, Northumberland, 
 The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Morti- 
 Capitulate against us, and aie up. [mer. 
 
 But wherefore do 1 tell these news to thee ? 
 Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes. 
 Which art my near'st and dearest enemy ? 
 Thou that art like enough, — through va.ssal fear. 
 
 Base inclination, and the start of spleen, 
 
 To fight against me under Percy's pay. 
 
 To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns. 
 
 To show how much degenerate thou art. 
 
 K. Hen. Do not think .so, you shall not find it M, 
 And God forgive them that have so much sway'd 
 Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! 
 I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
 -'\nd, in the closi.ng of some glorious day, . 
 Be bold to tell you, that 1 aui your son; 
 When I will wear a garment all of blood 
 And stain my favours in a bloody mask. 
 Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it 
 And that shall be the day, whene'er it hghts 
 'J'hat this same child of honour and renown. 
 This gallant Hotspur, this all praised knight, 
 And your unthoiiglit of Harry, chance to meet: 
 For every honour sitting on his helm, 
 'Would they were multitudes ; and on my head 
 My shames redoubled ! for the time will come. 
 That I shall make this northern yiiuth exchauge 
 His ^.lorious deeds for my indignities. 
 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
 'J'oenKro.ss up glorious dteds on my behalf; 
 And 1 will call iiim to so strict account. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 337 
 
 That lie shall render every glory up, 
 Yea, twn the slightest worship oC his time, 
 Or I will tear the rerkoniiiR from his heart. 
 This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
 The wliicn if lie be pleas'd I shall perform, 
 1 do beseech your majesty, may salve 
 The lonsr-grovvn wounds of my intemperance : 
 If not, the end of life cancels all bands; 
 And I will (lie a hundred thonsand deaths, 
 Ere hreak the sin llest parcfl of this vow. , 
 
 K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this : — 
 Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust herein. 
 
 Enter JJlunt. 
 
 How now, good IJlunt? thy looks are full of speed. 
 
 Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of. 
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, — 
 That Douglas, and the English rebels, met. 
 The eleventh of this nionlh, at Shrewsbury : 
 A mighty and a fearful head they are. 
 If promises bo kept on every hand, 
 As ever oifer'd foul play in a state. [day ; 
 
 K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to- 
 With him my son, lord Joiin of Lancaster ; 
 For this advertisement is live days old : — 
 On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set 
 Forward ; on Tiiuisday, we ourselves will march : 
 Our meeting is Uridgnortii : and, Harry, you 
 Shall march through Glostershire ; by which ac- 
 count, 
 Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
 Our general forces at Uridgnortii shall meet. 
 Our hands are full of business ; let's away ; 
 Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene 111. — Eastche.ap. A Room in the hoar's 
 Head Tavern. 
 
 Enter Falstaff and Baudolph. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since 
 this last action '. do I not bate ? do 1 not dwindle ? 
 Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's 
 loose gown ; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. 
 Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in 
 some liking ; I shall be out of heart shortly, and 
 then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have 
 not forgotten what the inside of a church is made 
 of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse : the inside 
 of a church! Company, villainous company, hath 
 been the spoil of me. [live long. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot 
 
 Fal. Why, there is it: — come, sing me a bawdy 
 song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, 
 as a gentleman need to be ; virtuous enough; swore 
 little; diced not above seven times a week: went 
 to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter — of 
 an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or four 
 times; lived well, and in f.ood compass: and now 
 I live out of all order, out of all compass. 
 
 Bard. Why, you are so lat, sir John, that you 
 must needs be out of all compass : out of all rea- 
 sonnble compass, sir John. 
 
 Fal Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend 
 my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest tlie 
 lantern in the poop, — but 'tis in the nose of thee : 
 thou ait the knight of the burning lamp. 
 
 Bard. Why, sir John, my f<ice does you no harm. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll be sworn : I make as good use of 
 it as niiiny a man dotli of a death's-head, or a 
 inemeiilo tnori: I never see thy llice, but I think 
 on hell-lire and Dives that lived in piirple ; for 
 tliere lie is in his robe.s, burning, burning. If 
 tiio'i Wert any way given to virtue, I would swear 
 by Ihy lace ; my oath should be. By this fire : hut 
 thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, 
 but for the light iu thy face, the son of utter dark- 
 ness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill iu the night 
 to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst 
 been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's 
 DO purchase iu money. O, thou art a perpetual 
 triumph, au everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast 
 
 saved me a thousand marks in links and torcheo 
 walking with thee in the mglit betwixt tavern and 
 tavern : but the sack that thou hast drunk me, 
 would have bought me lighls as good cheap, at the 
 dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained 
 that salamander of yours with fire, any time this 
 two an I thirty years ; Heaven reward me for it! 
 
 Bard. 'Shiood, I would my face were in your 
 belU- ! [heart-burned. 
 
 Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 How now, dame Partlet the hen ? have you inquired 
 yet, who iiicked my pocket ? 
 
 Host. vVhy, sir John ! what do you think, sir 
 John .'' Do you think I keep thieves in my house ? 
 I have searched, I have inquired, so has my hus- 
 band, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: 
 the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house 
 before. 
 
 Fal. Vou lie, hostess; Bardoph was shaved, and 
 lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was 
 picked : Go to, you are woman, go. 
 
 Host. Who I ? I defy thee : I was never called 
 so in mine own house before. 
 
 Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. 
 
 Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir 
 John : I know you, sir John : you owe me money, 
 sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile ine 
 of it; I bougiit you a dozen of shirts to your bacL 
 
 Fal. Dowlas, filthy tiowlas : I have given them 
 away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters 
 of them. 
 
 Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of 
 eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, 
 sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and mo- 
 ney lent you, four and twenty pound. 
 
 Fal. He had his part of it : let him pay. 
 
 Host. He ? alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing. 
 
 Fal. How ! poor ? look upon his face ; What call 
 yoii rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin 
 his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What will you 
 make a younker of me"? shall I not take mine ease 
 in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked ? 
 I have lost a seal-ring of my granill'ather'.s, worth 
 forty mark. 
 
 Host. O Jesu ! I have heard the prince tell hiia, 
 I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. 
 
 Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a sueakcup; 
 and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, 
 if he would say so. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry anrfPoiNS, marching. Fal- 
 stafp meets the Prince, playing on Ids trun- 
 cheon like a fife. 
 
 Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that door 
 i'l'aith ? must we all march? 
 
 Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. 
 
 Host. I\ly lord. I pray you, hear me. 
 
 P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly ''. 
 How does thy husband 'I I love him well, he is an 
 honest man. 
 
 Host. Good my lord, hear me. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me. 
 
 P. Hen. What say'st thou. Jack? 
 
 Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the 
 arras, and had my pocket picked : this house is turned 
 bawdy-house, they pick pockets. 
 
 P. Hen. What didst thou lose. Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or foui 
 bonds of forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my 
 granfllather's. 
 
 P. Hen. A trifle, some eight- penny matter. 
 
 Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said, I heard 
 your grace say so : And, my lord, he speaks mast 
 vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and 
 said, he would cudgel you. 
 
 P. Hen. What! he did not? 
 
 Host. There's neither faith, truth, uor wotuaahood 
 in me else. 
 
 oo 
 
338 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a 
 steued prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a 
 (lrav,n fox ; and for \\o iiaiihood, maid Marian may 
 be tlie deputy's wife ol the ward to thee. Go, you 
 thina:, go. 
 
 Host. Say, what thins? what thing? 
 
 Fal. What tiling ? wiiy, a thing to thank God on. 
 
 Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would 
 thou shoiild'st ku'.w it; I am an honest man's wife : 
 and, setting thy knighthood aside, tliou art a knave 
 to cull mc so. 
 
 Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a 
 beast to say otherwise. 
 
 Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thon? 
 
 Fal. What beast? why an otter. 
 
 P Hen. An otter, sir John? why an otter? 
 
 Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man 
 kn>iws not where to iiave her. 
 
 Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so ; thon 
 or anv man knows where to iiave me, thou knave 
 thou !' 
 
 P. Heti. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slan- 
 ders thee most grossly. 
 
 Host So lie dotli yon, my lord ; and said this 
 otlier day, you ought him a thousand pound. 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe ynii a thousand pound ? 
 
 Fal. A thousand pound, Hal! a million : thy love 
 is worth a million; thou owest me thy lo\e. 
 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and 
 said, lie would cudijpl voii. 
 
 Fal. DidF, Bard.li/h? 
 
 li'ird. Indeed, sir John, you said so. 
 
 Fal. Yea ; if he said my ring- was copper. 
 
 P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper : Darest thou be as good 
 as thy word now :* 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thon art but 
 man, I dure ; but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as 
 I f-'ar the roaring of the lion's whelp. 
 
 P Hen. And why not, as the lion ? 
 
 Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the 
 lion : Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as 1 fear thy 
 father? nay, an I do, I |)ray God, my girdle break ! 
 
 P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall 
 about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room lor 
 faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine : 
 it is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge in 
 honest woman with picking thy ijocket ! Why, 
 thou whoreson, impudent, embossea rascal, if there 
 were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, 
 memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny- 
 wortii of sugar-candy to make thee long windi-d ; if 
 thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries 
 but these, I am a villain. And yet yon will stand 
 to it; yon will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not 
 ashamed ? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou knowest, in the 
 state of innocenny, Adam fell; and what should 
 poor Jack Falstatfdo, in the days of villainy? thou 
 seest, 1 have more flesh than another man; and 
 
 therefore more frailty. You confess then, you 
 
 picked my pocket ? 
 
 P. Hen. It appears so by the story. 
 
 Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : Go, make ready 
 breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, 
 cherish thy guests : thou shalt tind me tractable to 
 any honest reason : thou seest, I am iiacified. — Still? 
 — Kay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, 
 Hal, to the news at court : for the robbery, lad, — 
 How is that answered ? 
 
 P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good 
 anjrel to thee : — The money is paid back again. 
 
 Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a 
 double labour. 
 
 P. Hen. 1 am good friends with my father, and 
 uiav do any thing. 
 
 Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou 
 docst, and do it with unwashed hands too. 
 
 Dard. Do, my lord. (foot. 
 
 P. Hen. I ha'e procured thee. Jack, a charge of 
 
 Aa/. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall 
 
 I find one that can steal well ? O for a fine thief, of 
 the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts ! I am 
 heinously unpro\ided. Well, God be thanked for 
 these rebels, they offend none but the virtiiou.s ; I 
 laud them, I piaise them. 
 
 P. Hen. Bardolph— 
 
 Bard. My lord V 
 
 P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lan- 
 caster, [land.— 
 My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore- 
 Go, Poitis, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I, 
 
 Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. 
 
 Jack, 
 
 Meet me to-morrow i' the Temple-hall 
 
 At two o'clock I'the afternoon : 
 
 There shalt thon know thy charge ; and there receivb 
 
 Money, and order for their furniture. 
 
 The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ; 
 
 And either they, or we, must lower he. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Rare words ! brave world I Hostess, my 
 
 breakfast ; come : — 
 O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — T/te rebel Camp near Skretvsbury. 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. 
 
 Hot. Well said, my noble Scot : If speaking truth. 
 In this fine age, were not thought flattery. 
 Such attribution should the Douglas have. 
 As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
 Should go so general current through the world. 
 By heaven, 1 cannot flatter; I defy 
 The tongues of soothers; but a braver place 
 In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: 
 Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord. 
 
 Doug. Thou art the king of honour: 
 Nn man so potent breathes upon the ground. 
 But I will beard him. 
 
 Hot. Do so, and 'tis well :- ■ 
 
 Enter a Messenger, with letters. 
 
 What letters hast thou there ? — I can bnt thank you. 
 
 Mess. These letters come from your father, — 
 
 Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him- 
 self? 
 
 Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous 
 sick. 
 
 Hot. 'Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be sick, 
 In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ? 
 Under whose government come they along ? 
 
 Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. 
 ■ Hot. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed ? 
 
 Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth ; 
 And at the time of my de[.arture thence. 
 He was much fear'd by his physicians. 
 
 Wor. I would, the state of time had first been 
 whole, 
 Ere he by sickness had been visited ; 
 His health was never better worth than now. 
 
 Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth 
 The very life-blood of our enterprise; [infect 
 
 '1 is catching hither, even to our camp.- - 
 He writes me here, — that inward sickness — 
 .And that his friends by deputation could not 
 So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet, 
 To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
 On any soul remov'd, but on his own. 
 Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, — 
 That with our small conjunction, we should on. 
 To see how fortune is dispos'd to us : 
 For, as he writes, there is no quailing now; 
 Because the king is certainly possess'd 
 Of all our purposes. What say you to it? 
 
 W^or. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. 
 
 Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd ofi': 
 And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want 
 Seems more than we shall find it : — Were it RuO(<, 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 339 
 
 o set the exact wealth of all our states 
 Ail at one cast? to set so rich a ttiain 
 On tlic nice iiazard of one douliUnl lioiir ? 
 ft v?ere not sood : for therein slioiilil we read 
 rhe very bottom and the soul of lioije ; 
 ■Phe very list, the very utmost bound 
 Oi all our fortunes. 
 
 Douij. 'Faith, and so we should; 
 
 \V here now remains a sweet reversion : 
 We may boldly Sjjend ujxm the hope of what 
 fs to cnme in : 
 A comfort of letirenieiit lives in this. 
 
 Hut. A rendezvous, a home to Hy unto, 
 \( tliiit tiie devil and mischance look big 
 L'j)on the maidenhead of our affairs. 
 
 Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here, 
 rhe quality and hair of our attempt 
 Urooks MO division : It will be thought 
 Uy some, that know not why he is away, 
 That wisdom, loyalty, anci mere dislike 
 Of our proceeding's, kept the earl from hence ; 
 And think, how such an apjirehension 
 May turn the tide of fearful faction, 
 And breed a kind of question in o ir cause : 
 For, well you knoiv, we of the olfering side 
 Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement; . 
 And stop all sight holes, every loop, from whence 
 The eye of reason may pry in upon us: 
 'J'liis absence of your lather's draws a curtain. 
 That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
 Before not dreamt of. 
 
 Hul. You strain too far. 
 
 I, rather, of his absence make this use; — 
 It lends a lustre, iind more great opinion, 
 A larger dare to our gre it enterprise. 
 Than if the earl were here : for men must think, 
 if we, without his helj), can make a head 
 To push against tiie kingdom; with his help. 
 We shall o'erturn it topsy turvy down. — 
 Vet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
 
 JJoif(/. As heart can tiiink : there is not such a 
 word 
 Spoke of iu Scotland, ns this term of fear. 
 
 Enfer Sir Richard Vernon. 
 
 Hut. My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by my soul. 
 Ver. Prav God, my news be worth a welcome, 
 
 lord. 
 
 The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, 
 Is inarching hithervvards; with him, prince John. 
 
 Hut. No harm : What more V 
 
 Ver. And further, I have learn'd, — 
 
 The king himself in person is set forth. 
 Or hitherwards intended speedily. 
 With strong and niighty preparation. 
 
 Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son 
 The nimble footed mad cap prince of Wales, 
 And his comrades, that dalf d the world aside, 
 And bid it pass? 
 
 Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms, 
 
 All pluin'd like estridges that wing the wind; 
 IJated like eagles having lately bath'd ; 
 (■Jlilteiinj; in golden coats, like images; 
 As full of spirit as the iMcinth of May, 
 And f;oij;eous as the sun at niidsiimmer; 
 Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
 I saw young Harry, — with his beaver on. 
 His ciiises on his thighs, gallantly arin'd, — 
 Uise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
 And aiilted .vith such ease into his seat. 
 As if !.n angel dioiip'd down from the clouds. 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 Hul. No more, no more; worse than the sun in 
 March, 
 This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come; 
 Ther come like sacrifices in their trim. 
 And' lo the fire-ey'd i.iaid of smoky war, 
 AM hot. and bleeding, will we olfer them' 
 Ihe mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so nigti, 
 
 And yet not ours : — Come, let me take my horee. 
 
 Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, 
 
 Against the bosom of the prince of Wales : 
 
 Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
 
 Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. 
 
 O, that Glendower were come ! 
 
 Ver. There is more news : 
 
 I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along. 
 He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
 
 DuuQ. That's the worst tidings that 1 hear of yet. 
 
 Wor. Ay, by my laith, that bears a frosty sound. 
 
 Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach unto? 
 
 Ver. To thirty thousand. 
 
 Hot. Forty let it be ; 
 
 I\ly father and Glendower being both away. 
 The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
 Come, let us make a muster speedily : 
 Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. 
 
 Dou(). Talk not of dying : I am out of fear 
 Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year. 
 
 [Exeunt . 
 
 Scene II. — A public Road near Coventry. 
 Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Fol. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ; fill me 
 a bottle of sack.: our soldiers shall inarch through 
 we'll to SuttonColfield to-night. 
 
 Bard. Will you give me money, captain? 
 
 Fal. Lay out, lay out. 
 
 Bnrd. This bottle makes an angel. 
 
 Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it 
 make twenty, take them all. III answer the coin- 
 age. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town'3 
 end. 
 
 Bard. I will, captain : farewell. [Exit 
 
 Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am 
 a soused j;urnet. Lhave misused the king's press 
 damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and 
 fii'ty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. 1 
 press me none but good householders, yeomen' 
 sons : inquire ine out contracted bachelors, such as 
 had been asked twice on the bans; such a commo- 
 dity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil a 
 a drum ; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse 
 tlian a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-diirk. I |)resse 
 me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in 
 their bellies no bigger than jiins' heads, and they 
 have bought out their services; and now my whole 
 cliarge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, 
 i;enlleinen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lpza- 
 rus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs 
 licked his sores: and such as, indeed, were never 
 soldiers: but discarded unjust serving-men, younger 
 sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and 
 ostlers trade fallen ; the cankers of a calm world, and 
 a long peace ; ten times more dishonourable ragged 
 than an old-fa. ed ancient: and such have I, to fill up 
 the rooms of them that have bought out their ser- 
 vices, that you would think, that I had a hundred 
 and filty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine- 
 keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow 
 met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded 
 all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No 
 eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not maich 
 tlirough Coventry with them, that's flat: Nay, and 
 the villains march wide betwixt Ihe legs, as if they 
 had gyves 011; for, indeed, I had the most of them 
 o!it of p:ison. There's but a shii t and a half in al 
 my company; and the half shirt is two napkins, 
 tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders, like 
 a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say 
 the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or 
 the red -nose innkeeper of Daintry. But that's all 
 one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. 
 
 Enter Prince Henrv and Westmoreland. 
 P. Hen. How now, blown Jack ? how now qailt ? 
 
•SiO 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IY. 
 
 Fal. What, Hnll? How now, niad wn?; ! what, a 
 tJpvil dost lliuii ii) W'nruirksiiire? — .My good lord of 
 VVestiiiorelaiid, I cry yoii iiif-rcy ; I tiioiiglit your 
 lioridiir had already been at .Shrewsbury. 
 
 West. 'Faith, sir John, "ti.s more tliHii time that I 
 were there, and you too; but my powers are there 
 already : The kiii'^, I can tell you, looks for us all ; 
 we must away all iiif;ht. 
 
 Fal. Tut, never tear me : I am as vigilant as a 
 cat to steal cream. 
 
 P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed ; for thy 
 theft hatii already made tliee butter. But tell me, 
 Jack ; whose fedows are these tiiat come after i 
 
 Fal. iMine, Hal, mine. 
 
 P. Hen. 1 did never see such pitifid rascals. 
 
 Fal. Tut, tut ; good enough to toss; (ood for 
 powder, food for powder j theyll till a pit, as well 
 as better, tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. 
 
 frest. Ay, but, sir John, methmks they are ex- 
 ceeding poor and bare ; too beggarlv. 
 
 Fal. Faith, ibr their poverty, — I know not where 
 they had that : and for their bareness, — 1 am sure, 
 (hey never learned that of me. 
 
 P. Hen. No, Ml be sworn: unless you call three 
 fingers on the ribs, bare. Uut, sirrah, make haste : 
 Percy is already in the field, 
 
 Fal. What, is the king encamped? 
 
 TVest. He is, sir John ; I fear, we shall stay too 
 
 Fal. Well, Hong. 
 
 To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a 
 
 least. 
 Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and 
 Vernon. 
 
 Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. 
 
 fVor. It may not be. 
 
 Doug. You give him then advantage. 
 
 Ver. Not a wit. 
 
 Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ? 
 
 Ver. So do we. 
 
 Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
 
 Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd: stir not to-night. 
 
 Ver. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Doug. Vou do not counsel well ; 
 
 Vou Sj/eak it out of fear, and cold heart. 
 
 Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life, 
 (And I dare well maintain it with my lilie,) 
 If well respected honour bid me ou, 
 I hold as little counsel with weak fear. 
 As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives : 
 Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle, 
 Which of us fears. 
 
 Doug. Yea, or to-night, 
 
 Ver. Content. 
 
 Hot. To-night, say I. 
 
 Ver. Come, come, it may not be. 
 
 I wouder much, being men of such great leading, 
 'I'hat you forst-e not what impediments 
 l)rag back our expedition : Certain horse 
 Uf my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 
 . Vour uncle Worcester's horse came but to day : 
 .\iid now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
 Tiieir courage with hard labour lame and dull, 
 Hifit iu)t a hor.se is half the half himself. 
 
 Hot. So are the horses of the enemy 
 In general, journey-bated, and brought low ; 
 I'he better part of ours is full of rest. 
 
 Wor. The number of the king eiceedeth ours : 
 For God's sake, cimsin, slay till all come in. 
 
 {The trumpet sounds a parley.) 
 
 Enter Sir Walter Blunt. 
 
 Blunt. I come witli gracious offers from the king, 
 If yo'i vouchsafe me hearing, and respect. 
 
 Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And 'would to 
 You were of our determination ! [God, 
 
 Some of us love you well : and even those some 
 
 Eniy yoiirgre;it ih'sei ving, and good name; 
 IJei-iuist* yoM iu'e not dtfinr quality, 
 iJiit stiiiid ;ig;iiiist n.s like nri njcmv. 
 
 Biunt. And God ilcteiid, Imt still 1 should etaodro 
 So long as, out of limit, and true rule, 
 ^ OH st«nd against anointed niHJesty ! 
 Hut to my charge. — The king hath si^iit to know 
 The nature of your griefs ; and wliereupon 
 You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
 Such bold hostility, teacliing his duteous land 
 Audacious cruelty : If that the king 
 Have any way your good deserts forgot, — 
 Which he confesseth to be manifold, — 
 He bids you name your griefs ; and, with all speed. 
 You shall have your desires, with interest; 
 And pardon absolute Ibr yourself and these, 
 Ht-rt'iii misled by your suggestion. 
 
 Hot.The king is kind ; and, well we know, the king 
 Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 My father, and my uncle, and myself. 
 Did give him that same royalty he wears : 
 And, — when he was not six and twenty strong. 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
 A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, — 
 My father gave him welcome to tlie shore 
 And, — when he heard him swear, and vow to God, 
 He came but to be duke of Lancaster, 
 'I'o sue his livery, and beg his peace ; 
 With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal, — 
 My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, 
 Swore him assistance, and perlorm'd it too. 
 Now, when the lords and barons of the realm 
 Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, 
 'J'he more and less came in with cap and knee; 
 Met him in boroughs, cities, v illages ; 
 Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes. 
 Laid gilts before him, prolFei'd him their oaths. 
 Gave him their heirs ; as pages tiillow'd him, 
 Even at the heels, in golden nmllitiides. 
 He presently, — as greatness knows itself, — 
 Steps nie a little higher than his vow 
 Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
 Upon the naked shore at llavenspiirg ; 
 And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
 Some certain edicts, and some strait clecrees> 
 That lie too heavy on the com mo wealth ; 
 Cries out upon abuses, seems to wte)> 
 Over his country's wrongs ; ami liy this face. 
 This seeming brow of justice, diil iie win 
 The hearts of all that he did ;\ni;!e tor. 
 Proceeded further; cut me olf tlie heads 
 Of all the favourites, that the absent king 
 In deputation left behind him here. 
 When he was personal in the Irish war. 
 
 Blunt. Tut, 1 came not to hear this. 
 
 Hot. 'I'heii, to the points — 
 
 In short time after, he depos'd the king ; 
 Soon after that, depriv'd him of his Iiie ; 
 And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: 
 To make that worse, siiHer'd his kinsman March 
 (Who is, if every owner were well plac'd, 
 indeed his king,) to be incau'd in Wales, 
 There without ransom to lie forfeited : 
 Di.sgrac'd me in my happy victories; 
 Sought to entrap me by intelligence ; 
 Rated my uncle from the council-board ; 
 In rage dismiss'd my father from the court; 
 Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong; 
 .And, in conclusion, drove us to set k out 
 'i'his head of safety ;and, withal, to pry 
 Into his title, the which we find 
 I'oi indirect for hmg continuance. 
 
 Blunt. Shall I return this answer to (lie king? 
 
 Hot. Not so, sir Walter ; vvell withdraw aw bile. 
 Go to the king ; and let there be inipawn'd 
 Some surety for a safe return again, 
 And ill the "morning early shall mine uncle 
 Bring him our purposes : and so l^opwell. [lo7a 
 
 Blunt. I would, you wouhl a.upt of grace auii 
 
 Hot. And, may be, so we shall. 
 
Act V, Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 341 
 
 Blunt. Pray heaven, yon do ; 
 
 [ExeutU. 
 
 ScENtC IV. — York. A Room in the Archbishops 
 House. 
 
 hnttr the Archbitthop of VoRK, and a Gentleman. 
 
 Arch, Hie, gocfl sir Michael; bear this sealed 
 brie)', 
 Witli winged haste, to the lord inareschal : 
 '1 iiis to my cousin Scroop ; and ail tlie rest 
 'Co wlioiii tiiey are dirt-cted: liymi knew 
 How DiMcli they do in>|iort, you would make haste. 
 
 Ce«/. My good lord, 
 S giiess llieir tenor. 
 
 Arch. Like enough, you do. 
 
 To-niOiTow, fC'iod sir Michael, is a d;iy. 
 Wherein the fortune often thousand men 
 Must 'bide tiie touiii : For, sir, at Siire«sbury, 
 As 1 am truly gfiven to understand, 
 Tiie king-, with miuiily and quick raised fjower. 
 Meets wilh lord Harry : and I fear, sir Michael, — 
 (What witli tlie sickness oC Northumberland, 
 Whose power was in the first proportion.) 
 And wliat with Owen Giendower's absence, thence, 
 (W'ho witii tiiem was a rated sinew too, 
 And conies not in, o'errnled by prophecies,)^ 
 I fear ttie [wwer of" Percy is too weak 
 To wa<je Hu instant trial with the knig. 
 
 Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; 
 there's Douglas, 
 And Mortimer. 
 
 Arch, No, Mortimer's not there. 
 
 Gent. But there is Moraakt, Vernon, lord Harry 
 Peicy, 
 .\nd tliere's my lord of Worcester, and a head 
 Of gallant warriors, niihle gentlemen. 
 
 Arch. And so there is: but yet the king hath 
 drawn 
 The special head of all the land together ; — 
 The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster, 
 Tiie iiv)UJe Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt; 
 And iniiiy more cor-ri\ais, and dear men 
 Ol HstMiiation and comround in arms. 
 
 Geni. iloubt not, my, lord, they shall be well 
 oppos'd. 
 
 Arch. \ ;iope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; 
 Ami, lo pre \eiit the worst, sir Michael, speed: 
 Fur, it iord Percy tliri\e nut, ere the king 
 DisMii.ss ins power, he means lo visit us, — 
 For 'iw ii.ith iieard of our confederacy, — 
 All! 'tis hut wisdum (o make strong against iiim; 
 'i'iii-rcloie. make haste: I must go write again 
 'i'o otiier Irifnds; and so farewell, sir Michael. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The King's Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 Enter liiny Henky, Prince Heney. Prince John 
 •oJ'Lnncrrster, Sir Walter Blijnt, and Sir ioHS 
 Tals iakf. 
 
 K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
 Ahii\e yon busky hill ! the day looks jiale 
 At his disiemperature. 
 
 P. Hen. The southern wind 
 
 f)(itii play the trumpet to his purposes; 
 And, by liis hollow vvliistling in the leaves, 
 Forel) lis a tempest, and a blustering day. 
 
 K. Hen. Tlien with the losers let it sympathize ; 
 £\>r rfo'i.iiiig can s«em Ibiil to those that win. 
 
 ( TruDipet.) Enter Worce.ster and Vernon. 
 
 lluH jiow, rny lord of Worcester'? 'tis not well, 
 'I'i at yim and I should meet upon such terms 
 As u'>\v «•■ meet: \ aw have deceiv'd our trust: 
 \tiil made lis dolFonr easy robes of peace, 
 'J n crush our old limbs in ungentle steel: 
 'I'liis is not well, my lurd, this is not well. 
 VN hat m<y yon to't !* will yon again iinknit 
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war? 
 
 And move in tnat onedient orb agani, 
 
 Wliere you did give a fair and natural light; 
 
 And be no more an exhal'd meteor, 
 
 A priidigy of fear, and a portent 
 
 Ol brcaciied niisciiief to the unborn times ? 
 
 Wor. Hear me, my lieae : 
 For mine own part. I could be well contenl 
 To entertain the lag end olniy lite 
 Witii quiet hours ; for, 1 do protest, 
 I luue not soiiglit the day ol this dislike. 
 
 K. Hen. You have not sought for it! how comes 
 it tlien ? 
 
 Fal. Rebellion lay in his way and he found ii. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, chewef, (-t-.,ce. 
 
 Wor, It pleas'd your majesty to fiirn your looks 
 Ot'favoui, from myself, and all our Ir use; 
 And yet I must leuiember you, my loid, 
 Wf- were the first and de:irest ol your friends. 
 For yon, r.iy staff ol office .lid 1 break 
 In Richard's time; and postrd day ano' night 
 To nief-t von on tlie way, and ki^s .\oiirhand. 
 When yet yon were in place and in account 
 Nothing so strong and tortunate as !. 
 It was m)sell, riiy brother, and his son, 
 'i'liat brouiiht yni home, and biildly did outdare 
 Tlie dangers i.f the time : V o« swore to us, — 
 .And yon did swar tiiat i.ath at Dmic:4Ster, — 
 That yon did noUiing purpose 'gainst the state; 
 Nor claim no further than your iiew-faH'n right. 
 The seat (if Gaunt, diikedoiu of Lancaster: 
 To tiiis we swore our aid. But, in short space. 
 It riin'd down fortune showering on your head; 
 -And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
 What with our help ; what with the absent king; 
 What with injuries of a wanton time ; 
 The seeming siifft-rances. that you had borne ; 
 And the contrarioiis winds, that held the king 
 So long in his unlucky Irish wars, 
 'i'hat all in England did repute him dead. 
 And, from this swarm of fair ad» antages, 
 Vou took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
 To gripe the general sway into your hand ; 
 Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ; 
 And being fed by us, you us'd us so 
 .As that ungentle gall, the cuckoo's bird, 
 L'seth the spaircw : did oppress onr nest; 
 Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
 'I'liat even our love durst not come near your si>,ht, 
 For fear of swallowing ; but with niinb'e wing 
 We were enfoic'd, for safety sake, to fly 
 Out of your sight, and raise this presei.l head ; 
 Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
 As you yourself have forg'd against yourself; 
 By unkind usage, dangerous ciuntenaiice. 
 And vitilatiiin of all faith and troth 
 Swoin to us in your younger entfr|)rise. 
 
 K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have ;irti. 
 ciliated, 
 Proclaiin'd at market-crosses, read in churches ; 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine colour, that may please the eye 
 Of tickle changelings, and poor di!'C(Mitents, 
 Which gape and rub the elbow, at the news 
 Of hurlybiirly innovation: 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 Such water-colours, to iinpaint his cause ; 
 Nor moody beggars, starving foi a time 
 or pell-mell havock and confusion. 
 
 P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul 
 Shall |iay full dearly for this encounter, 
 If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew. 
 The prince ot' Wales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy: Bv my liojies, — 
 This present enterprise set oil" his head, — 
 I do nut tliink, a braver gentleman, 
 More Hcti\e- valiant, or more valiatit-yonng. 
 More daring, or more bold, is now alive. 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
 For my part, I may speak it to my shanie, 
 I have a truant been to chivalry; 
 
S42 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 AnJ so, [ hea/, he doth account me loo : 
 Yet tins before my father's majesty, — 
 I am content, tliat he sl.all fake the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation ; 
 Aiid will, to save the blood on either side, 
 'I'ry i'ortime with him in a sinjile fight. 
 
 K. Hen. And prince of Wales, so dare we ven- 
 Albeit, considerations infinite [turn thee, 
 
 Do make against it:— No, good Worcester, no. 
 We love onr people well; even those we love, 
 'I'hat are misled npon yonr cousin's part: 
 And, will they take the oti'er of our grace, 
 Bolli he, and they, and yon, yea, every man 
 Sliall be my friend again, and I'll be his. 
 So tf 11 yonr cousin, and bring me word 
 What he will' do: — But if he will not yield, 
 Itfbiike and dread correction wait on us. 
 And they shall do their office. So, be gone; 
 We will not now be troidjled with reply : 
 We ofier fair, take it advisedly. 
 
 [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life : 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
 Are confident against the world in arms. 
 
 K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his 
 charge ; 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
 And God befriend U'i, as our cause is just! 
 
 [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John. 
 
 Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in tlie battle, and 
 bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. 
 
 P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that 
 friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
 
 Fal. 1 would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay 
 him before iiis day. What need I be so forward 
 with him that calls not on me ? Well, 'tis no niatter ; 
 Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour 
 prick me off when I come on ? bow then ? Can 
 honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm ? No. Or 
 take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour 
 hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour ? 
 A word. What is in that word, honour? What 
 is that honour'? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who 
 hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel 
 it'? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible 
 then ? Yea, to the dead. Hut will it not live with 
 the living"? No. Wiiy "? Detraction will not suffer 
 it: — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 
 scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. [Exit. 
 
 Scene U.—T/ie Rebel Camp. 
 
 Enter Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 War. O, no, m^ nephew must not know, sir 
 The liberal kind oflt-r of the king. [Richard, 
 
 Ver. 'Twere best, he did. 
 
 TVar. Then are we all undone. 
 
 It is not possible, it cannut be, 
 Tiie king should keep his word in loving us; 
 He will suspect us still, and find a time 
 'io punish this offence in otlifr faults: 
 Suspicion siiail be all stuck full of eyes: 
 For treason is but trusted like the fox ; 
 Wiio, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up. 
 Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 
 Look how we can, or sad, or merrily, 
 luterpretatitin will misquote our looks ; 
 And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
 'f'he better cherish'd, still the nearer death. 
 My nephew's trespass may be well forgot, 
 It hath the excuse of youtu, and heat of blood ; 
 .\nd an adopted name of privilege, — 
 A hare biaiu'd Hotspur, govt-ru'd by a spleen: 
 All his offf nces live upon uiy head, 
 .\n(l on his fatiier's ; — we did tr.tiii liim on ; 
 .\nd, his corruption being ta'eii from us, 
 We, as the s,.riug of all, shall pay for all. 
 Therefore, good cous n. lit not Harry know 
 In any case, the offer of the king. 
 
 I Ver. Deliver what yoa will, I'll say, 'tis sex 
 Here comes your cousin. 
 
 Enter Hotspur and Douglas ; and Officers mid 
 Soldiers, behind. 
 
 Hot. My nncle is return'd : — Deliver up 
 My lord of Westmoreland. — Uncle, what new.'?? 
 
 fVor. The king will bid you battle presently. 
 
 Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
 
 Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king. 
 
 Hot. Did you beg any ? God forbid ! 
 
 TVor. I told him gently of our grievances, 
 Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus. — 
 By now fors\vearing that he is forsworn : 
 He. calls us rebels, traitors; and will sconrge 
 With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
 
 Re-enter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Arm, gentlemen ; to arms I for I have 
 thrown 
 A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth. 
 And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it; 
 Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
 Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before 
 the king. 
 And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. 
 
 Hot. O, 'would the (piarrel lay upon our heads. 
 And that no man might draw short breath to- 
 day. 
 But I, and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me. 
 How show'd his tasking'? seem'd it in contempt? 
 
 Ver. No, by my soid ; I never in my life 
 Did hear a challenge nrg'd tnore modestly. 
 Unless a brother should a brother dare 
 To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
 He gave you all the duties of a man ; 
 Trimm'tJ up your praises with a princely tongue; 
 Spoke your cieservings like a chronicle ; 
 Making you ever better than his praise, 
 By still dispraising praise, valued with yon : 
 And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
 He made a blushing cital of himself; 
 And chid his truant youth with such a grace, 
 As if he master'd there a double spirit. 
 Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. 
 There did he pause : But let me tell the world,— 
 If he outlive the envy of this day, 
 England did never owe so sweet a hope. 
 So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 
 
 Hot. Cousin, I think, thou art enaujoured 
 Upon his follies ; never did I hear 
 Of any prince, so wild, at liberty : — 
 But, be he as he will, yet once ere night 
 I will embrace him with a soldier's arm. 
 That he shall shrink under my courtesy. — 
 Arm, arm, with speed : — And, fellows, soldiera^ 
 
 friends. 
 Better consider what you liave to do. 
 Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
 Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. 
 
 Hot. I cannot read them now.— 
 O gentlemen, the time of life is short ; 
 To spend that shortness basely, vvere too loDg, 
 If life did ride upon a dial's point. 
 Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
 An if we live, we live to tread on kings; 
 If die, brave death, when princes die with ua! 
 Now for our conscience,— the arms are fair, 
 When the intent of bearing them is just. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on 
 
 apace. 
 Hot. I thank liim that he cuts me from my tale. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY IV, 
 
 343 
 
 For I profess not talking; only this — 
 Let each man do his best : and liere draw I 
 A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
 Witli the best blood that I can meet withal 
 In the adventnre of this perilous day. 
 Now, — Esperance ! — I'ercy! and set on. — 
 Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
 And by that music let us all embrace : 
 For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
 A sercmd time do such a courtesy. 
 
 [TVie trumpets sound. They embrace, and 
 exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Plain near Shreivsbury. 
 
 Excursions, and parties fighting. Alarum to the 
 battle. Then enter Douglas ana Blunt, meeting. 
 
 Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
 Thou Grossest me ? What honour dost thou seek 
 Upon my head ? 
 
 Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas ; 
 
 And 1 do haunt thee in the battle thus, 
 iiecause some tell me, that thou art a king. 
 
 Blunt. They tell thee true. 
 
 Doug. 'J'he lord of Stafford dear to-day hath 
 bought 
 Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, 
 This sword hat!) ended him : so shall it thee, 
 Unless thou yield thee as my iirisoner. 
 
 Blunt. 1 was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot ; 
 And thou shalttind a king, that will revenge 
 Lord Stafford's death. 
 
 {They fight, and Blunt is slain.) 
 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hot. O Donglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon 
 I never had triumph'd upon a Scot. [thus, 
 
 Doug. All's done, all's won ; here breathless lies 
 
 Hot. Where ? - [the kii.g. 
 
 Doug. Here. 
 
 Hot. This, Douglas? no. I know this face full well : 
 A gallant knight he was, his name w,is Blunt; 
 Semblably furnish' d like the king himself. 
 
 Doug. A fool go with thy soul, vvhither it goes ! 
 A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. 
 Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? 
 
 Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats. 
 
 Doug. Now, by my sword, [ will kill all his coats; 
 I'll murder ail his wardrobe, piece by piece. 
 Until I meet the king. 
 
 Hot. Up, and away ; 
 
 Our soldiers stand fii4l fairly for the day. [Exeimt. 
 
 Ot/ter Alarums. Enter Falstaff. 
 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, 
 I fear the shot here ; here's no scoring, but upon the 
 pate. — Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blimt ; — 
 there's honour for you : Here's no vanity ! — I am as 
 hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: God keep 
 lead out of me ! I need no more weight than mine 
 own bowels. — I have led my ragamuftiiis where 
 they are peppered : there's but three of my hundred 
 and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, 
 to beg during life. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me 
 thy sword : 
 Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
 Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies. 
 Whose deaths are unreveng'd: Pr'ythee, lend thy 
 sword. 
 
 Fal. O Hil, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe 
 awhile. — Turk Gregory never did such deeds in 
 anas, as I have done this day. 1 have paid Percy, 
 1 have made him sure. 
 
 P. lien. He is, indeed ; and living io kill thee. 
 Lend int- thy sword, I pr'vthee. 
 
 Fal. Nay, before Gnff, Hal. if Percy he alive, 
 tluju get'st not mv sword ; but take my pistol, if thou 
 wilL 
 
 P. Hen. Give it me ; What, is it in the case ? 
 
 Fal. .\y, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot ; there's that will 
 sack a city, {'the Prince draws out a bottle of 
 sack.) 
 
 P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally now? 
 [Throws it at him, and exit. 
 
 Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If 
 he do come in my way, so : if he do not, if I come 
 in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado cf me. 
 I like not sucii grinning honour as sir Walter huth: 
 Give me life : which if I can save, so ; if not, 
 honour conies unlocked for, and there's an end. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Scene W .—Another part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Excursions. Enter the King, Prince 
 Henry, Prince John, and Westmoreland. 
 
 K. Hen. I pr'ythee, 
 Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much : — 
 Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
 
 P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. 
 
 P. Hen. 1 do beseech your majesty, make up. 
 Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. 
 
 K. Hen. I will do so: — 
 My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. 
 
 [Vest. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your 
 tent. [help : 
 
 P. Hen. Lead me, my lord ? I do not need your 
 And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should 
 
 drive 
 The prince of Wales from such a field as this ; 
 Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on. 
 And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! 
 
 P. ^ohn. We breathe too long : — Come, cousin 
 Westmoreland, 
 Our duty this way lies ; for God's sake, come. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceived me, 
 Lancaster, 
 I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: 
 Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John ; 
 But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 
 
 K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point, 
 With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
 Of siich an ungrown warrior. 
 
 P. Hen. O, this boy 
 
 Lends mettle to us all [Exit. 
 
 Alarums. Etiter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Another King ! they grow like Hydra's 
 1 am the Douglas, fatal to all those [heads : 
 
 That wear those colours on them. — What art thon. 
 That cnunterfeit'st the person of a king ? 
 
 K. Hen. The king himself: who, Douglas, grieves 
 at heart. 
 So many of his sliadows thou hast met. 
 And not the very king. ] have two boys, 
 Seek Percy and thyself, about the field : 
 But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, 
 I will assay thee: so defend thyself 
 
 Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit; 
 And yet , in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: 
 But mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be, 
 And thus I win thee. 
 
 {They fight ; the King being in danger, etiter 
 Prince Henry.) 
 
 P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art 
 Never to hold it up ajrain ! the spirits [like 
 
 Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms : 
 It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee ; 
 Who never promiseth, but he means to pay. — 
 
 {They fight; Douglas flies.) 
 Cheerly, my lord ; How fares your grace ? — 
 Sir Nicholas Gawsay hath for succour sent. 
 And so hath Clifton: 111 to Clifton straight. 
 
 K. Hen Stay, and breathe a while: — 
 Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ; 
 And show'djthou mak'st souie tender of my li/V, 
 In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. 
 
344 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 P. Hen. O lieaveii! lli<»y did nie too much injury, 
 riiat e\er said, 1 liearkeii'd lor your di-;itli 
 If it were so, I mifjlit have let alone 
 I'he insulting hand of Douglas o\ er you ; 
 Which would have been as sjieedy in your eod, 
 As all the (toisonous potions in the world, 
 And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son. 
 
 A. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas 
 Gawsey. [Exit King Henri/. 
 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hot If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. 
 
 P. Hen. 'I'hou speak'st as if I would deny my 
 name. 
 
 Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, then I see 
 
 A very valiant rebel of the name. 
 I am (lie prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy, 
 To share with me in glorj any mfire : 
 Two stars keep not tiieir uiotion in one sphere ; 
 Nor can one biOgland brook a double reign. 
 Of Harrv Percy, and the prince of Wales. 
 
 Hoi. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come 
 To end the one of us ; And would to God, 
 Thy name in arms were now as great as mine ! 
 
 P Hen. I II make it greater, ere I part from 
 thee : 
 And all the budding honouis on thy crest 
 I'll crop, to intike a garland lor my head. 
 
 Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
 
 {T/ie,jJi!jht.) 
 
 Enter Falstafp. 
 
 Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!— Nay, you 
 shall fi.id no boy's play here, I can tell you. 
 
 Enter Douni.AS ; hefiijhts with Falstoff, who falls 
 down as if he were dead, and exit Douylas. 
 Hotspur is wounded, and falls. 
 
 Hot. O Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth : 
 1 better brook the loss of brittle life, 
 1'iian those proud titles thou hast won of me ; 
 They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword 
 
 my llesli : — 
 But thought s the slave of life, and life time's fool ; 
 And tinif- that takes survey of all the world. 
 Must have a stop. O, I coidd prophesy. 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
 Lies oil my tongue : — No, Percy, thou art dust. 
 And loud fur — [Dies.) 
 
 P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy : Fare thee well; 
 great heart! — 
 111 weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! 
 When tliat tliis body did contain a spirit, 
 A kingdom fur it was too small a hound ; 
 But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough: — This earth, tiiat bears thee dead, 
 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
 II' thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
 I should not iiiuke so dear a show of zeal: — 
 But let my favours hide thy mangled face ! 
 And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
 For doiii^ these lair rites of tenderness. 
 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! 
 Diy ignoinuiy sleep with thee in the grave. 
 But not remeniber'd m thy epitaph! — 
 
 [He sees Fal staff on the ground.) 
 VVhat ! old acquaintance ! coiiM not all this llesh 
 Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! 
 1 coiild have belter spar'd a better man. 
 O, I .sliiiuld have a heavy miss of thee. 
 It I \ve|p iiiiuh in love with vanity. 
 Dealli liatii not struck so lat a drer to-day, 
 Thotigii many dearer, in tins l)loody liay : — 
 limb.ivvellM will I see tliee by and by: 
 Till tiieii, in lilood by ik,!,!*- I'ercy lie. [Exit. 
 
 Flit. [Rtsinij slowly.) Einbowell'd I if thou em- 
 bowel Hit- lo-(lay, Til ^,ue you leave to powder me, 
 and tat ipie loo, to moi row. 'Sbh.od,' 'twas time 
 to counterleit, or Ihat liot termagant .Scot l^ad paid 
 
 me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I lie, 3 'am no 
 counterfeit: To die, is to be a coiinteifcit; for he is 
 but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the lif« 
 of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a man 
 thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the tiiie 
 and perfect image of life indeed. The better \ art 
 of valour is — discretion ; in the which better puit, 
 I have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid ot the 
 gunpowder Percy, though he be dead : Hovy, if he 
 should counterfeit too, and rise i^ I am afraid, he 
 would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll 
 make him sure: yea, and I'll swear I killed him. 
 Why may not he rise, as well as I ? Nothing con- 
 futes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, 
 sirrah, [Stabbing him,) with a new wound in your 
 thigh, come you along with me. 
 
 [Takes Hotspur on his back.) 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Prince John. 
 
 P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast 
 thou flesh'd 
 Thy maiden sword. 
 
 P. John. But, soft! whom have we here ? 
 
 Did you not tell me, tliis fat man was dead ;' 
 
 P. Hen, I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and 
 Upon tiie ground. — [bleeding. 
 
 Art thou alive V or is it phantasy 
 That plays upon our ejesighf.' I pr'ythee, speak; 
 We will not trust our eyes, without our ears :— 
 Tliou art not what thou seem'st. 
 
 Fal. No, tiiat's certain ; I am not a double man: 
 but if I be not Jack Falstatf, then am I a Jack 
 There is Percy, [Throwing the body down,) if youi 
 father will do ine any hoiuiiir, so; ii not, let liiiL- 
 kill the next Percy himself. 1 look to be either eart 
 or duke, I can assure you. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, Pn'cy I killed myself, and sa\» 
 thee dead. 
 
 Fal. Didst thou '? — Lord ! Lord : how this world 
 is given to lying! — I grant you, I was down, and 
 out oi breath ; and so was lie : but we rose both at 
 an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury 
 clock. If 1 may be believed, so; let theiu, that 
 should rewaid valour, bear the sin u|ion ih'ir own 
 heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him tliiii 
 wound in the thigh : if the man were alive, and 
 would deny it, 1 would make liiin eat a piece of my 
 sword. [heard. 
 
 P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I 
 
 P. Hen. 'i'his is the straimest lellow, brothei 
 John. — 
 Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: 
 For my |)art, il a lie may do thee grace, 
 I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. 
 
 [A retreat is sounded.\ 
 The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. 
 Come, brother, let's to the highest ol tlie held, 
 To see what Iriends are living, who are dead. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince John, 
 
 Fal. I II iollovv, as they say, lorrevvaid. He that 
 rewards me, God r< ward iiiin ! If I do grow great. 
 I'll grow less; lor 111 purge, and leave sack, and 
 live cleanly, as a nobleman slioiild do. 
 
 [Exit, bearing off the bodtf- 
 
 Scene V. — Another Part of the Field. 
 
 The trumpets sound. Enter King HEfiur, Priun; 
 HiiNRY, Prince John, Westmoreland, an/ 
 others, with VV orcester and Vernon,;; /v.v<j«er> 
 
 K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. — 
 ni-S| iiited Worce.sterI did we not send grace. 
 Pardon, and tenns ol lc\e to all ol you '! 
 And wouldst thou turn our oilers contrary? 
 Misuse the teimr of thy kiiisurm s trust;' 
 Thiee knights upon our parly slain lo-daj', 
 A noble earl, and many a crealure else, 
 Had been alive this hour. 
 If, like a clirisllan, thou liadst truly borne 
 Betwixt ou: armies irue iiitelligence. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 345 
 
 Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to ; 
 And I enibrace tliis fortune patiently, 
 Since not to be a\oicled it falls on ine. [too: 
 
 K. Hen. Oe:>r Worcester to the death, and Vernon 
 Other otienders Wi- will pause upon. — 
 
 [Exeiinl Worcester and Vernon, (juarded. 
 
 How jroes (h( field ? [saw 
 
 P, Hen. Tiie noble Scot, lord Donglas, when he 
 
 The fortune of the day quite turn"d fiotii liitn. 
 
 The noble Percv slain, and all his men 
 
 Upon the toot of fear, — lied with the rest ; 
 nd , falling from a hill, he was so briiis'd, 
 
 Thht the pnrsiiers took him. At my tent 
 
 The l»oMfjia> is; and I beseech your grace, 
 
 i may dispose of hiiu. 
 K. Hm. With all my heart 
 
 P. hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you 
 
 This honourable bounty shall belong: 
 
 Go to the Doufjias, anil deliver him 
 
 Up to his pleasn:e, ransomeless, and free : v 
 
 Wis valour, shown upon our crests to-day, 
 
 Hath taught us how to cherish such hijjh deeds. 
 
 Even in the bosom of our adversaries, [power. 
 
 K. Hen. Then this remains, — that we divide our 
 You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, 
 Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest 
 
 speed. 
 To meet Northumberland, and the prehte Scroop, 
 Who. as we hear, are busily in arms : 
 Myself. — and you, .son Harry, — will towards Wales, 
 To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March. 
 Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway. 
 Meeting the check of such another day ; 
 And since this business s'j fair is done. 
 Let us not leave till all our own be won. [Exnuni, 
 
KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KmC HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 HENRY, Prince of Wales, ajtervmrds King 
 
 Ilfnry V., \ 
 
 THOMAS, Uiike of Clayence, \ 
 
 PKINCK JOHN vf l.aucaUer. afterwards - his Sons. 
 
 (2 Ilfnry V.) Duke of Bedford. i 
 
 PRfNCE HUMi'HllEY ifGlasUr. afterwards \ 
 
 {•2 Hr-nrv V) Duke of Cluster , I 
 
 EARL OF VVAltVVlCK. ; 
 
 EAUL OF VVhSiaiORELAND, > of the King's Partv. 
 GOWER.-HARCOURT. \ 
 
 LORD CUIKF JUSTICE of the KiHffs Bench. 
 A Gentleman altijiding on the Chuf Justice. 
 EARL OF NOKTHLWBi'RLAND, 
 SCROOP, A-chltishup of i'ork, 
 LORD SIOWBUAY, f Enemies to the 
 
 LORD HASTINGS, } King. 
 
 LORD BAUDOLl H, 
 SIR JOHN COLEVILLE, 
 
 TRAVERS and MORTON, Domestici (if Nurlhumber' 
 
 idtii/. 
 FAISTAFF, HARDOLPII, PISTOL, and Page. 
 FOINS and I'ETo Attendants on Prince Hmry. 
 SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country Justices. 
 DAVY, Servant to Shallow. 
 MOLLDY. SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and Pl'LJ^ 
 
 CALK, Reirnits. 
 FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's Off.ctit 
 Romonr. 
 A rir',>. 
 A Diincer, Speaker of t/ic Bptioyiie. 
 
 LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. 
 LADY PERCY. 
 ffostess QUICKLY. 
 DOLL TEAR SHEET. 
 
 Lords and other Attendants ; Officers, Soldiers, Messe/f 
 ger. Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, etc. 
 
 Scene, — Enyland, 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 Warhworth. Before Norlhumberland's Castle. 
 Enter RuMOUK, painted full of tongues. 
 
 Rum. Open your ears; For which of yon will stop 
 The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks? 
 I, from the orient ti> the droopinj^ west, 
 Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
 The acts commenced on this b;>II of earth : 
 Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ; 
 The which in every language 1 pronounce, 
 StiiflSng the ears of men with false reports. 
 I speak of peace, while covert enmity. 
 Under the smile of s;ifety, wounds the world : 
 And who but Rumour, who but only I, 
 Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence ; 
 Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief, 
 Is thought with cliild bv the stern tyrant war, 
 And no such matter; Rumour is a pipe 
 Blov/n by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; 
 And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
 That the blunt monster with uncoiuited heads. 
 The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
 Can play upon iL But what need I thus 
 My well-known body to anatomize 
 Among my household ? Why is Rumour here? 
 I run before king Harry's victory; 
 Who, in a bloody field by .Shrewsbury, 
 Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops. 
 Quenching the fl;ime of bold rebellion 
 Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I 
 To speak so true at first ? my office is 
 To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell 
 Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword; 
 And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
 Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
 This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns 
 Between that royal field «.il SInewsbury 
 And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone. 
 Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
 Lies crafty-sick : the posts coiue tiring on. 
 And not a man of them brings other news 
 Than they have learn'd of me : From Rumour's 
 
 tongues 
 They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true 
 wrongs. [Exit. 
 
 ACT I. 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 
 The Porter before the Gate. Enter Lord 
 Bardolph. 
 
 Bard.yVhn keeps the gate here, ho?- Where 
 is ine earl .'' 
 
 Port. What shall I say you are ? 
 
 Bard. Tell thou the earl. 
 
 That the lord Bardolph doth attend him lure. 
 
 Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into t!ie or- 
 chard ; 
 Please it your honour, knock but at the gate. 
 And he himself will answer. 
 
 Bard. 
 
 Enter Northumberland. 
 
 Here comes tlie carl. 
 
 North. What news, lord Bardolph? every mi- 
 nute now 
 Should be the father of some stratagem: 
 The times are wild ; contention, like a horse 
 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
 And bears down all before him. 
 
 Bard. Noble earl, 
 
 I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 
 
 North. Good, an heaven will! 
 
 Bard. As good as heart can wish :— 
 
 The king is almost wounded to the death ; 
 And, in the fortune of my lord your son, 
 Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the Bhmts 
 Kill'd by the hand of Douglas : young prince John, 
 And Westmoreland, and StatTord, (led the field ; 
 And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk sir John, 
 Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day. 
 So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won, 
 Came not, till now, to dignify the times. 
 Since CiEsar's fortunes ! 
 
 North. How is this deriv'd ? 
 
 Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? 
 
 Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from 
 thence, 
 A gentleman well bred, and of good name, 
 'l'h:it freely render'd me these news for true. 
 
 North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom 
 On Tuesday last to listen after news. [I .sent 
 
 Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; 
 And lie is furnish'd with no certainties. 
 More than he haply niay retail from me. 
 
 Enter Tkavers. 
 
 North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come 
 with you ? 
 
 Tra. My lord, sir John Umfrevile turn'd me bark 
 With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd. 
 Out rode me. After liim, came, spurring hard, 
 A gentleman almost (bresjient with S|)eed, 
 That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse 
 He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him 
 I did demand, what news fnuii Shrewsbury. 
 He told me, that rebelliou had bad luck. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 
 
 347 
 
 And that young Harry Percy's spur was coin : 
 With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
 And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 
 Against the panting siaesof his poor jade 
 Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so, 
 He seeni'd in running to devour the way. 
 Staying no longer question. 
 
 North. Ha !— Again. 
 
 Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
 or Hotspur, coldspur ? that rebellion 
 Had met ill luck! 
 
 Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ;— 
 
 If my young lord your son have not the day. 
 Upon mine honour, for a silken point 
 I'll give my barony : never talk of it. 
 
 North. VVIiy should the gentleman, that rode by 
 Give then such instances of loss ? [Travcrs, 
 
 Bard. Who, he i 
 
 He was some hilding fellow, that had stol'n 
 The horse he rode on: and, upon my life. 
 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. 
 
 Enter Morton. 
 
 North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf. 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : 
 So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood 
 Hath left a witness'd usurpation. — 
 Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? 
 
 Mur. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord? 
 Where hatel'ul death put on his ugliest mask, 
 To fright our party. 
 
 North. How doth my son, and brother? 
 
 Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
 Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
 Even such a man, so faint, si> spiritless. 
 So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 
 Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. 
 And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd : 
 But Priam fiuind the fire, ere he his tongue. 
 And I my Percy's death, ere thou repoit'st it. 
 This thou would'st say, — Your son did thus, and 
 
 thus ; 
 Your brother, thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ; 
 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : 
 Hut in the end, to stop mine ear indeed. 
 Tliou hast a sigh to blow away this praise. 
 Ending with-'— brother, son, and all are dead. 
 
 Mor. Douglas is living, and your brotiier, yet: 
 But. for my lord your son, — 
 
 North. Why, he is dead. 
 
 See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath ! 
 He, tiiat but fears tiie thing he would not know. 
 Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes, 
 'I'hat what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; 
 Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies; 
 And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, 
 And make thee rich for doing me such wrong, 
 ^ Mor. Vou are too great to be by me gainsaid : 
 Vonr spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 
 
 North. Yet, for all this, say not, that Perry's 
 I see a strange confession in thine eye : [dead. 
 
 Thou simk'st thy head; and hold'st itfear, or sin. 
 To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so; 
 The tongue ofT-'nds not, that reports his death : 
 And he doth sin, tliat doth belie the dead ; 
 Not he, wiiich says the dead is not alive. 
 Yet tiie first bringer of unwelconie news 
 Hath bat a losing olHce ; and his tongue 
 SoaniLi ever after as a sullen bell. 
 Re iieuibcr'd knolliug a di'partiug friend. 
 
 Bard. I cannot tiimk, my lord, your son is dead. 
 Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe 
 That, whicii 1 would to heaven I had not seen: 
 But tliese mine eyes saw him iu bloo ly state, 
 Ileiid ring fiint q liltauce, wearied and out-breatli'd. 
 To Harry iVIoiimouth ; wliose swift wrath beat down 
 The never-d.iuiit^d Percy to the earth, 
 Prom wiieiice with life lie never m ire sprung up. 
 In few, his d^alh (whose spirit lent a fire 
 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) 
 
 Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
 From the best temper'd courage in his troops: 
 For from his metal was his party steel'd ; 
 Which once in him abated, all the rest 
 Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. 
 And as the thing, that's heavy in itself. 
 Upon enforcement, Hies with greatest speed ; 
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
 Lend to this weight su(!li lightness witli their fear, 
 'J^hat arrows fled not swilter toward their aim. 
 Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety. 
 Fly from the field : Then was that noble Worcester 
 Too soon ta'en prisoner: and that furious Scot, 
 The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword 
 Had three times slain the appearance of the king, 
 'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame 
 Of those that turn'd their backs ; and, in his flight. 
 Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
 Is,— that the king hath won ; and hath sent out 
 A sneedy power, to encounter you, my lord, 
 Under the conduct of young Lancaster, 
 And Westnioieland : this is the news at full. 
 
 North. Foi this I shall have time enough to 
 mourn. 
 In poison there is physic ; and these news. 
 Having been well, tiiat would have made me sick. 
 Being sick, have in some measure made me well : 
 And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints. 
 Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life. 
 Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
 Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs, 
 Weaken'd with grief, being now eniagd with grief. 
 Are thrice themselves: hence, therefore, thou nice 
 
 crutch ; 
 A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel. 
 Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoif ; 
 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head. 
 Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
 Now bind my brows with iron ; and approacl 
 The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring. 
 To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland ! 
 Let heav'n kiss earth ! Now let not nature's hand 
 Keep the wild flood confin'd ! let order die ! 
 And let this world no longer be a stage, 
 To feed contention in a lingering act; 
 But let one spirit of tiie first-born Cain 
 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
 On bloody courses, the rude scene may end. 
 And darkness be the biirier of the dead ! 
 
 Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my 
 iord. [honour. 
 
 Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your 
 Mor. The lives of all your loving complices 
 Lean on your health ; the which, it you give o'er 
 To stormy passion, must perforce decay. 
 You cast the event of war, my noble lord. 
 And snmrn'd the account of chance, bel"ore you 
 
 said, — 
 Let us make head. It was your presurmise. 
 That in the dole of blows your sou might drop : 
 You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, 
 Moie likely to fall in, than to get o'er: 
 You were advis'd, his flesh was capable 
 Of wounds and scars; and that his forward spirit 
 Would litt him whi-re most trade of danger raug'd ; 
 Yet did you say, — Go i'orth ; and none ol'this, 
 Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
 'I'he stirt-borne action: What iiath then befillen. 
 Or what hath this bold enterprize broiigiit foith. 
 More than that being, which was like to be ? 
 
 Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss. 
 Knew, that we ventur'fl on sucli dangerous seaa. 
 That, if we wrought out lii'e, 'twas ten to one ; 
 And yet we veiitiir'd, for tiie gain [Jiopos'd 
 Cholv'd the res,.ecf of likely peril fear'd; 
 And, since we are o'erset, venture again. 
 Come, we will all pu». fortii ; body, and goods. 
 Mor. "i'is more than time : And, my most oolils 
 lord, 
 I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, — 
 
348 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act T. 
 
 The geotlc archbishop of York is up, 
 With well-atipoiiited powers ; he is a man, 
 Who with a double surety binds his followers. 
 My lord yotir smi had only but tlie corps, 
 But shadows, and tiie shows of men, to fight ; 
 For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
 The action of their bodies from their stjuls ; 
 And they did fisht with queasiness, constrain'd, 
 As men drink potions; that their weapons only 
 Seern'd on our side, but. for llieir spirits and souls. 
 This word, rebellion, it had froze tlieui up. 
 As fish are in a pond : But now the bishoii 
 Turns insurrection to religion : 
 Suppos'd sincere and holy in his tiionglits. 
 He's follow'd both with body and with mind; 
 And doth enlarge his risinjc with the blood 
 Of fair king Uichard.scrap'd from Ponifret stones : 
 Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ; 
 'I'ells them, he doth bestride a bleeditig land, 
 Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ; 
 And iimre, and ess, do flock to follow him. 
 
 North. 1 knew of this before ; but, to speak truth, 
 This present grief had wip'd it from my mind. 
 Go in with me ; and counsel e\ery man 
 'J'he aptest way for safety, and revenge : 
 Get posls, and letters, and nwke friends with speed ; 
 Never so few, and never yet more need. \Excunt. 
 
 Scene II. — London. A Street. 
 
 Enter Sir John Falstaff, wit/i his Page, heariny 
 his sword and buckler. 
 
 F'al. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my 
 water? 
 
 Paye. Me said, sir, the water itself was a good 
 Iieahliy water: but, for the party that owed il, he 
 might have more diseases than he knew lor. 
 
 Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : 
 The biaiii of this foolish -compounded cUy, man, is 
 not able to vent any tliinn, that ti nds to laughter, 
 more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not 
 only witty in mys If, but the cause that wit is in 
 other men. I do here walk before tliee, like a sow, 
 that hatJi overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the 
 prince put thee into my service fur any other reason 
 than to set me off, wiiy then 1 have no judgment. 
 Thou wIkuvsoii mandrake, tlioii ait htter to be worn 
 in my cap, tlian to wait at my heels. I was never 
 manned with an a4;ate till now : but I will set you 
 neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and 
 send you back again to your master, ior a jewel; 
 the ju\eual,tlie prince your master, whose chin is 
 not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in 
 the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his 
 cheek ; and yet he will not stick to say, his face is a 
 tace-royal : God may finisli it when he will, it is not 
 a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still as a face 
 royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of 
 it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ 
 uiau ever since his father was a bachelor. He riiay 
 keep bis own grace, but he is almost out of mine, 
 J can assure him. — \Vliat said master Duiubletou 
 about the satin hu" my shoi t cloak, and slops :' 
 
 Pa(je. He Siiid, sir, you shonhi procure him better 
 assurance than Bardolph : he would not take his 
 bond and yours; he liked not the security. 
 
 Pal. Let him be damned like the glutt.m' may his 
 tongue be hotter! — A v\horeson .Aciiitophcl ! a ras- 
 cally yealorsootli knave I to bear a geiitlemari in 
 hand, and then stand upon security ! — Tiie whoreson 
 smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, 
 and bunches of keys at their girdles ; and il a man is 
 thorough with them in honest taking up, then they 
 must stand upon — security. 1 had as liel they would 
 put ratsbane in my moutli, as offer to stop it with 
 security. 1 looked he should have sent me two and 
 . twenty yards of satin, as i am a true knight, and he 
 sends ine security Well, he luay sleep in sei:iirity, 
 for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightm-ss 
 af his wife shines through it : and yet cannot he 
 
 see, though he have his own lantern to ligiit him. — 
 Where's IJardoiph ! 
 
 Page. He's gone into Smithfield, to buy yoiw 
 worship a horse. 
 
 Fal. I bought him in Pauls, and he'll buy me a 
 horse in Smithtield ; and I could get me hut a wile io 
 the stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an Attendant. 
 
 Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that com 
 mitted the prince for striking him about Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Wait close, 1 will not see him. 
 
 L'h. Just. What's he that goes there ? 
 
 Atten. Falstaff', an't please your lordship. 
 
 Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery ? 
 
 Alten. He, my lord : but he hath since done good 
 service at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is now going 
 with some charge to the lord John of Lancaster. 
 
 Ch. Just. What, to York 'i Call him back again 
 
 Atltn. Sir John Falstatf ! 
 
 Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf. [deaf. 
 
 Page. You must speak louder, my master is 
 
 Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any 
 thing good. — Go, pluck him by the elbow ; i must 
 speak with him. 
 
 Atten. Sir John, — 
 
 Fal. What ! a young knave, and beg I Is there 
 not wars? is there not employment ? Doth not the 
 king lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers ? 
 Though it be shame to be on any side but one, it is 
 worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, 
 were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell 
 how to make it. 
 
 Atteti. You mistake ine, sir. 
 
 F<il. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest 
 man ? setting ray knighthood and my soldiership 
 aside, I had lied in my throat, if I had said so. 
 
 Atten. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood 
 and yuur soldieiship aside : and give me leave to tell 
 you, you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other 
 than an honest man. 
 
 Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside 
 that which grows to me ! If thou get'st any leave of 
 nie, hang me ; if thou takest leave, thou wert better 
 be hanged : Y-ou hunt-counter, hence! avaiint! 
 
 Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you. 
 
 Ch- Just. Sir John Falstatt', a word with you. 
 
 Fal. iVIy good lord ! — God give your lordship 
 g<jod time of day. I am o:lad to see your lordship 
 abroad : I heard say, your lor iship was sick : 1 hope, 
 your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your lord- 
 ship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet 
 some smack of age in you, some relish ol the saltiiess 
 of time; and I most humbly beseech your lordship, 
 to have a reverend care of your health. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your 
 expedition to Shrewsbury. 
 
 Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear, his majesty 
 is relurnt-d with some discomfort from Wales. 
 
 Ch. Just. I talk not of his majesty : — You would 
 not come when I sent for you. 
 
 Fal, And 1 hear, moreover, his highness is fallen 
 into this same whm-eson apoplexy. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him I I pray, let me 
 speak with you. 
 
 Fal. 'i'his apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of 
 lethargy, an't please your hirdship; a kind of sleep- 
 ing in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 
 
 CLJust. Wliat tell you me of it? be it as it is. 
 
 Fal. It hath it^s original from much grief; Irom 
 study, and perturbation of the brain: 1 haie read 
 the cause of his effects in Galen ; it is a kind of 
 deafness. 
 
 Ch. Just. I think, yon are fallen into the disease ; 
 for voii h^ar not what I say to you. 
 
 Fal. Veiy >vell, my lord, very well: rather au't- 
 please you, it is the disease of not listening;, tiie ma- 
 lady ot'ni.t marking, that I aiii troubled with. 
 
 Ch. Just. To punish you by tlie heei.s. would 
 
Scene 3, 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 349 
 
 amend the attention of your ears; and I care not if I 
 do became your pliyi>ician. 
 
 Val. I am as poor as Job, my lord ; but not so 
 patient : your lordaliip may minister tlie potion of 
 punishment to me, in respect of poverty ; but how I 
 should be your patient to follow your prescriptions, 
 the wise may mi<ke some dram of a scruple, or, 
 indeed, a scruple itself. 
 
 Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were mat- 
 ters against you for your life, to come speak, with 
 me. 
 
 Fal. As I was then advised by my learned coun- 
 sel in tile laws of this land-ser>ice, i did not come. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, sir John, you live in 
 great iiifamy. 
 
 Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live 
 ia less. [waste is great. 
 
 Ch.Just. Your means are very slender, and your 
 
 Fal. 1 would it were otherwise ; I would my means 
 were greater, and my waist slenderer. 
 
 Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince. 
 
 Fal. 'J'lie young prince hath misled me : 1 am the 
 fellow with tiie great belly, and he my dog. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed 
 wound ; your day's service at Shrewsbury hath a 
 little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-Hill : 
 you may thank tlie umpiiet time for your quiet 
 o'erposting that action. 
 
 Fal. iMy lord ? [not a sleeping wolf 
 
 Ch. Just, lint since all is well, keep it so : wake 
 
 Fal. To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a fox. 
 
 Ch. Just. What ! you are as caudle, tiie better 
 part burnt out. 
 
 Fal. A wassel candle, my lord ; all tallow: if 
 I did say of wax, my growth would approve the 
 truth. 
 
 Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face 
 but sli()iild have his etl'ect of gravity. 
 
 Fal. His effect of gra\y, gravy, gravy. 
 
 Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and 
 down, like his ill angel. 
 
 Fal. N t so, my lord ; your ill angel is light; but, 
 I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me without 
 weighing: and yet, in some respects, 1 grant, I can- 
 not go, 1 cannot tell: virtue is of so little regard in 
 these coster- monger times, that true valour is turned 
 bear-herd: Pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath 
 his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings ; all the 
 other gilts, apperlinent to man, as the malice of this 
 age shapes tnem, are not worth a gooseberry. You, 
 that are old, consider not the capacities of us that 
 are young: you measure the heat of our livers with 
 the bitterness of your aalls: and we, that are in (he 
 vaward of our youth, 1 must couiess, are wags too. 
 
 Ch. Just. Uo you set down your name in the scroll 
 of youtn, that are written down old with all the 
 characters of age ? Hav e you not a moist eye .'' a dry 
 hand ?• a yellow cheek :" a white beard :* a decreasing 
 leg :* an increasing belly "!* Is not your voice broken '! 
 your wind short '{ your chin double :* your wit single ? 
 and every part about you blasted with antiquity ? 
 and will you yet call yourself young';! Fy, fy, ly, sir 
 John ! 
 
 Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock 
 in the alternoon, with a white head, and something a 
 rouiiil belly. For my voice, — I have lost it with 
 hollaing, and singing of anthems. To approve my 
 youth (urther, I will not: the truth is, f am only old 
 in judgment and understanding; and he that will 
 caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me 
 tlie money, and have at him. For the box o'the ear 
 tliat tue prince gave you,— he gave it like a rude 
 prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have 
 checked hiin for it; and the young lion repents : 
 niairy, not in ashes, and sack-cloth ; but in new silk, 
 and iijil sack. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, heaven send the prince a better 
 coi.l|janion ! 
 
 Fal. Heaven send the companion a better prince ! 
 I cannot nd my hands of him. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed yon and 
 prince Harry : I hear, you are going with lord John 
 of Lancaster, against the archbishop, and the earl of 
 Northumberland. 
 
 Fill. Yea; I thank your nrctty sweet wit for it. 
 But look you pray, ail you that kiss my lady peace 
 at home, that our armies join not in a hot day I ior 
 by the Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and 
 I mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if it be a hot 
 day, an I brandish any thing but my bottle, I would 
 I might never spit white again, 'i'here is not a 
 dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am 
 thrust upon it : Well, I cannot last ever : But it was 
 always yet the trick of our English nation, if they 
 have a good thing, to make it too common. If you 
 will needs say, I am an old man, you should give 
 nie rest. I would to God, my name were not so ter- 
 rible to the enemy as it is. 1 were better to be eaten 
 to death with rust, than to be scoured to nothing with 
 perpetual motion. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest ; And God 
 bless your expedition ! 
 
 Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand 
 pound, to furnish me forth ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny ; you are too 
 impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well : Commend 
 me to your cousin Westmoreland. 
 
 [Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant. 
 
 Hal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. — 
 A man can no more separate age and covetousness, 
 tiian he can part young limbs and lechery : but the 
 gout calls the one, and the pox pinches the other; 
 and so both the degrees prevent my curses. — Boy ! — 
 
 Page. Sir? 
 
 Fal, What money is in my purse 
 
 Page. Seven groats and two-pence. 
 
 Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump- 
 tion of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers 
 it out, but the disease is incurable. — Go bear this 
 letter to my lord of Lancaster ; this to (he prince: 
 this to the earl of Westmoreland ; and tliis to old 
 mistress Ursula, whom I have we(>kly sworn to 
 marry since I perceived the first white hair on my 
 chin : About it ; you know where to find me. [Exit 
 Page.] A pox of this gout! or a gout of this pox! 
 for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my 
 great toe. It is no matter, if I do halt; I have the 
 wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the 
 more reasonable : A good wit will make use of any 
 thing ; 1 will turn diseases to commodity. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — York. A Room in the Archbishop'* 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of YoRK, the Lords 
 Hastings, Mowbray, and Bardolph. 
 
 Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and known 
 our means : 
 And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, 
 Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes :-— 
 And first, lord marshal, what say you to it i 
 
 Mowb. I will allow (he occasion of our arms ; 
 But gladly would be better satisfied. 
 How, in our means, we should advance ourselves 
 To look with forehead bold and big enough 
 Upon the power and puissance of the king. 
 
 Hast. Our present musters grow upim the file 
 To five and twenty thousand iiienof ciioice ; 
 .4nd our supplies live largely in the hope 
 Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns 
 VVithan incensed fire of injuries. 
 
 Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth 
 thus ; 
 Whether our present five and twenty thousand 
 May hold up head without Northumberland. 
 
 Hast. With him, we may. 
 
 Bard. Ay, marry, (here's the i>oint 
 
 But if without him we be thought too feeble. 
 My judgment is, we should not step too far 
 'I'iil we had his assistance by the hand : 
 Fur, in a theme so bloody fac d as this. 
 
350 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act if. 
 
 Conjecture, expectation, and siirnuse 
 
 Of aids iiiicertaii), should not be admitted. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Burdolph; tor, indeed, 
 It was young Hotspur's case at .Sliiewsbury. 
 
 Bard. It was, my lord; vvlio liin'd himself with 
 Eating the air on promise of supply, [hope, 
 
 Flattering Inmsell with project of a power 
 Much smaller than the smallest ol his thoughts : 
 And so, with great imagination, 
 Proper to madmen, led liis powers to death. 
 And, winking, ler.p'd into destruction. 
 
 Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt. 
 To lay down likelihoods, and tbrms of hope. 
 
 Bard. Yes, in the present quality of war; — 
 Indeed the instant action, (a cause on foot,) 
 Liives so in hope, as in an early spring 
 We see the appearing buds ; which to prove fruit, 
 i:l<,)pe gives i.ot so much warrant, as despair, 
 'I'hat trost will bite tliem. VVlien sve mean to build, 
 We first survey tlie plot, tiien draw the model; 
 And when we see the figure oi' the house. 
 Then must we rate the cost of the erection: 
 Which if we find outweighs ability, 
 What do we then, but diaw anew the model 
 In fewer offices ; or, at least, desist 
 To build at all ? Much more, in tliis great work, 
 (Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down. 
 And set another up,) should we survey 
 The plot of situation, and the model ; 
 Consent upon a sure foundation; 
 Question surveyors ; know our own estate. 
 How able such a work to undergo. 
 To weigh against his opposite ; or else. 
 We foitify in paper, and in figures. 
 Using the names of men, instead of men : 
 Like one that draws the model of a house 
 Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, 
 Gives o"er, and leaves his part created cost 
 A naked subject to the weeping clouds. 
 And waste for chuilisli winter's tyranny. [birth,) 
 Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of fair 
 Should be still born, and that we now possess'd 
 The utmost man of expectation ; 
 I think, vve are a body strong enough. 
 Even as we are, to equal with the king. 
 Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty 
 thousand? [Bardolph. 
 
 Hast. To us no more; nay, not so much, lord 
 For his divisions, as the times do brawl. 
 Are in three heads: one power against the French, 
 And one against Glendower; perforce, a third 
 Must take up us : So is the infirm king 
 In three divided : and his cotfers sound 
 With hollow poverty and emptiness. [together. 
 
 Arch. That he should draw his several strengths 
 And come against us in full puissance. 
 Need not be dreaded. 
 
 Hast. If he should do so, 
 
 He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh 
 Baying him at his heels : never fear that, [hither? 
 Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces 
 Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland : 
 Against tlie Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth : 
 But who is substituted 'gainst the French, 
 I have no certain notice. 
 
 Arch. Let us on : 
 
 And publish the occasion of our arras. 
 The commonwealth is sick of their own choice, 
 Their over-greedy love hath snrieited: — 
 An habitation giddy and unsure 
 Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
 O thou fond many ! with what loud applause 
 Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
 Before lie was what thou wouldst have him be i 
 And being now trimmed in thine own desires. 
 Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
 That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 
 So, 80, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
 Tby glutton bosom of the royal Richard ; 
 Aod now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, 
 
 And howl'st to find it. What trust Ts in these times? 
 'I'hey that, when Richard liv'd would have him die. 
 Are now become enamour'd on his grave : 
 Tluiu, that threw'st dust on his goodly head, 
 When through proud London he came sighing on 
 After the admir'd heels of Bolingbroke, 
 Cry'st now, earth, yield us that king again. 
 And take thou this! O thoughts of men accurst! 
 Past, and to come, seem best ; tilings present, worst 
 
 Moivb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on ; 
 
 Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be 
 gone. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Street. 
 Enter Hostess; Fang, and his Boy, with her; and 
 
 SN\REj'ulluwi7ig. 
 
 Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action ? 
 
 Fang. It is entered. 
 
 Host. Wliere is your yeoman? Is it a lusty 
 yeoman ? will a' stand to't ? 
 
 Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare ? 
 
 Host. O Jjord, ay : good master Snare. 
 
 Snare. Here, here. 
 
 Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John FalslafT. 
 
 Host. Yea, good master Snare ; I have entered 
 him and all. [lor he will stab. 
 
 Snare. It may chance cost some of usourli\es. 
 
 Host. Alas the day I take heed of him ; he stab- 
 bed me in mine 0^vn house, and that most beastly : 
 in good faith, a' cares not what mischief he doth, if 
 his weapons be out : he will foin like any devil; he 
 will spare neither man, woman, nor child. 
 
 Fang. If I can clo.xe with him, I care not for Iiis 
 thrust. 
 
 Host. No, nor 1 neither: I'll be at your elbow. 
 
 Fang. An I but fist hihi once ; an a' come but 
 within my \ ice : — 
 
 Host. I am undone by his going ; I warrant you, 
 he's an infinite thing upon my score : — Good master 
 Fang, hold him sure ; — good master Snare, let him 
 not 'scape. He conies continually to Pie-corner, 
 (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle ; and he's 
 indited to dinner to the lubber s head in Lombard- 
 street, to master Smooth's, the silkuian : I pray ye, 
 since my exion is entered, and my case so openly 
 known to the world, let him be brought in to Ins 
 answer. A hundred mark is a long loan for a poor 
 lone woman to bear: and I have borne, an<l borne, 
 and borne; and have been fubbed off, and I'ubbed 
 off, and fubbed off, from this day to that day, that it 
 is a shame to be thought on. Tuere is no honesty in 
 such dealing; unless a woman should be made an 
 ass, and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. 
 
 Enter Sir John Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph. 
 
 Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmsey-nose 
 knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do your 
 offices, master Fang, and master Snare : do me, do 
 nie, do me your offices. 
 
 Fal. How now i whose mare's dead ? what's the 
 matter'? [tress Quickly. 
 
 Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of niis- 
 
 Fal. Away, varlets ! — Draw, Bardolph ; cut me 
 off the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel. 
 
 Host. Throw me in the channel? Ill throw thee 
 in the channel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bas- 
 tardly rogue ! — Murder, murder ! O thou honey 
 suckle villain ! wilt thou kill God's officers, and tlie 
 king's ? O thou honey-seed rogue ! thou art a honey- 
 seed ; a man queller, and a woinan-queller. 
 
 Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph. 
 
 Fang. A rescue ! a rescue ! 
 
 Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two.- 
 Thou wo't, wot thou ? thou wo't, wo't thou '' do, do 
 thou rogue I do, thou hemp seed ! 
 
 Fal. Away, you scullion! you ramjallian! you 
 fustilarian ! I II tickle your catastrophe. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 851 
 
 Enter the Lord Chief Justice, attended. 
 
 Ch. Just. What's the matter ? keep the peace 
 nsre, ho ! [yo". stand to me ! 
 
 Host. Good my lord, be good to me! I beseech 
 
 Ch. Just. How now, sir John ? what, are you 
 brawling liere? 
 Doth this become your place, your time, and busi- 
 ness ? 
 You shoiiUl have been well on your way to York. — 
 Stand from iiini, fellow ! Wherefore hang'st thou 
 on him ? 
 
 Host. O, my most worshipful lord, an't please 
 your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and 
 he is arrested at my suit. 
 
 C'l. Just. For what sum ? 
 
 Host. It is more than for some, my lord ; it is for 
 all, all I have : he hath eaten me out of house and 
 home ; he hath put all my substance into that fat 
 belly of his : — but I will have some of it out again, 
 or I'll ride thee o'nights, like the mare. 
 
 Fal. I tliink, I am as like to ride the mare, if I 
 have any vantage of ground to get up. 
 
 C/i. Just. How comes this, sir John ? Fy ! what 
 man of good temper would endure tiiis tempest of 
 exclamation ? Are yoj not ashamed, to enforce a 
 poor widow to so rough a course to come by her 
 own '? 
 
 Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee ? 
 
 Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thy- 
 self and thy money too. Thou didst swear to me 
 upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin- 
 chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon 
 Wednesday in Whitsun-week, when the prince 
 broke thy head for liking his father to a singing- 
 man of Windsor : thou didst swear to me then, as 
 I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make 
 me my lady thy wife. Caust thou deny it? Did not 
 goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come iu then, 
 and call me gossip Quickly! coming in to borrow a 
 mess of vinegar; telling us, she had a good dish of 
 prawns: whereby thou didst desire to eat some; 
 whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green wound ? 
 And didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, 
 desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor 
 people ; saying, that ere long they should call me 
 madam ? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me 
 fetch thee thirty shillings '? I put thee now to thy 
 book-oath ; deny it, if thou canst. 
 
 Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul ; and she 
 says, up and down the town, that her eldest son is 
 like you : she hath been in good case, and, the 
 truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But for these 
 foolish officers, I beseech you, I may have redress 
 against them. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, sir John, I am well acquainted 
 with your manner of wrenching the true cause the 
 false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the thiong 
 of words, that come with such more than impudent 
 nauciness from you, can thrust me from a level con- 
 sideration : you have, as it appears to me, practised 
 upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and 
 made her serve your uses both in purse and person. 
 
 Host. Yea, iu troth, my lord. 
 
 Ch. Just. Pr'ythee, peace : — Pay her the debt you 
 owe her, and unpay the villainy you have done with 
 her ; the one you may do with sterling money, and 
 the other with current repentance. 
 
 Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap with- 
 out reply. You call honourable boldness, impudent 
 sauciness: if a man will make cnurt'sy, and say 
 nothing, he is virtuous; No, my lord, my humble 
 duty reme-mbered, I will not be your suitor; I say to 
 jfou, I do desire deliverance I'rom these officers, be- 
 ing upon hasty employment in the king's affairs. 
 
 Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do 
 wrong : but answer in the efiect of your reputation, 
 aud satisfy the poor woman. 
 
 Fal, Come hither, hostess. (JTaking her aside.) 
 
 Enter GowER. 
 
 Ch.Just. Now, master Gower; What news? 
 
 Cow. 'I'lie king, my lord, and Harry prince of 
 Wales 
 Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells. 
 
 Fal. As 1 am a gentleman : • 
 
 Host. Nay, yon said so before. 
 
 Fal. As 1 am a gentleman; Come, no more 
 
 words of it. 
 
 Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must 
 be lain to pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of 
 my dining-chambers. 
 
 Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking : and 
 for thy walls, — a pretty slight drollery, or the story 
 of the prodigal, or the German hunting in water- 
 work, is worth a tboujand of these bed hangings, 
 and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, 
 it thou canst. Come, an it were not for thy humours, 
 there is not a better wench in England. Go, 
 wash thy face, and 'draw thy action: Come, thou 
 must not be in tliis humour with ine ; dost not 
 know me 1 Come, come, I know thou vvast set on 
 to this. 
 
 //os/. Pray thee, sir John, let it be but twenty 
 nobles; i'faith I am loath to pawn my plate, in good 
 earnest, la. [be a fool still. 
 
 Fal. L?t it alone; I'll make other shift : yon'il 
 
 Host. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn 
 my gown. I hcpe, you'll come to supper : You'll 
 pay me all together :" 
 
 Fal. Will I live '?— Go, with her, with her ; {to 
 Bardolph) hook on, book on. fat supiier ? 
 
 Ho.si. XV'ill you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you 
 
 Fal. No more words: let's have her. 
 
 [Exeunt Hostess, liardolph, Officers, 
 and Par/e. 
 
 Ch. Just. I have heard better news, 
 
 Fal. What's tile news, my good lord ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night .' 
 
 Goto. At Basingstoke, my lord. 
 
 Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well : What's the 
 news, my lord ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Come all his forces back? [horse, 
 
 Gow. No; fifteen hundred foot, .Ive hundred 
 Are niarch'd up to my lord of Lancaster, 
 Against Northumberland and the archbishop. 
 
 Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble 
 lord? ^ ' 
 
 Ch. Just. You shall have lettersof me presently : 
 Come, go along with we, good master Gower. 
 
 Fal. My lord ! 
 
 Ch.Just. What's the matter? [to dinner? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me 
 
 Gow. I niitst wait upon my good lord here: 1 
 thank you, good sir John. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir Jolm, you loiter here too long, be- 
 ing you are to take soldiers up in counties as you go. 
 
 Fal. Will you sup with me, master Gower'? 
 
 Ch. Just. \Vhat foolish master taught you these 
 maniif-rs, sir John? 
 
 Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he 
 was a fool tliat t,iu;lit them me. — This is the right 
 fencing grace, my lord ; tap for tap, and so part fair. 
 
 Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee I thou art a 
 great fool. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Another Street. 
 Enter Prince Henrv and PoiNS* 
 
 P. Hen. Trust me, Lara exceeding weary* 
 
 Poins. Is it come to ihat ? 1 had Luoiigiit, weari- 
 ness durst not have attached one of so liigli blood 
 
 P. Hen. 'Faith, it does me; though it discolours 
 the complexion of' my greatness to acknowledge it 
 Doth it not sliow vilely in me, to desire small beer ? 
 
 Poins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely 
 studij^d, as to remember so weak a composition. 
 
 P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not princely 
 got; tor, by my troth, I do now remeinlK-r tfie poor 
 creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble 
 
35i 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act it. 
 
 considerations make mt out of love wilh my great- 
 ness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy 
 name? or to know thy face to-morrow V or to take 
 note how many pair of silk stockings thou liast ; viz. 
 these, and tliose tliat were the peach-colour'd ones? 
 or to bear the inventory of thy sliirts ; as, one for 
 supertliiity, and <me otlier ior use ? — but that, t!ie 
 tennis-court keeper knows better than I ; for it is a 
 low ebb of linen with thee, when thou keei)est not 
 racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, 
 because the rest of thy low-countries liave made a 
 shift to eat up thy holland : and God knows, whe- 
 ther those that bawl out the ruins of thy linen, shall 
 inherit his kingdom: but the midwives say, the 
 children are not in the fault; whereupon the world 
 increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened. 
 
 Poins. How ill it follows, after you ha- e laboured 
 so hard, you should talk so idly? 'I'ell nie, how 
 many good young princes would do so, their fathers 
 being so sick as yours at this time is ? 
 
 P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? 
 
 Poins. Yes ; and let it be an excellent good thing. 
 
 P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no higher 
 breeding than thine. [that you will tell. 
 
 Poins. Go to; 1 stand the push of your one thing 
 
 P. Hen. Why, I tell thee, — it is not meet, that I 
 should be sad, now my father is sick : albeit I could 
 tell to thee, fas to one it pleases me, for i'aiilt of a 
 belter, to call my friend,) I could be sad, and sad 
 indeed too. 
 
 Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject. 
 
 P. Hen. LJy this hand, thou think'st me as far in 
 the devil's book as thou, and Falstalf, for obduracy 
 and persistency: let the end try the uian. Uiit I 
 tell thee, — my heart bleeds inwardly, that my father 
 is so sick: and keeping such vile company as thou 
 art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of 
 
 Poins. The reasnn? [sorrow. 
 
 P. Hen, What vvould'st thou think of me, if I 
 should weep ? Icrite. 
 
 Poins. 1 would think thee a most princely hypo- 
 
 P Hen. It would he every man'.s thoiigiit: and 
 thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man 
 thinks; never a man's thought in the world keeps 
 the road-way better than thine : every man would 
 think me an hypocrite indeed, .^nd what accites 
 your most worsuipful thought, to think so ? 
 
 Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd, 
 and so much engrafted to Falstall. 
 
 P. Hen. And to thee. 
 
 Poins. By this light, I am well spoken of, I can 
 hear it with my own ears: the worst that they can 
 say of me is, that 1 am a second brother, and that 
 I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two 
 things, I confess, I cannot lielp. By the mass, here 
 ctmies Uardolph. 
 
 P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaflf: he had 
 him from me christian; and look, if the fat villain 
 have not transformed him ape. 
 
 Enter Bardolph and Page. 
 
 Bard. 'Save your grace ! 
 
 P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph ! 
 
 Bnrd. Come, you virtuous ass, (to the Page) 
 yon bashful fool, must you be blushing? wherelore 
 fjliish you now? What a maidenly man at arms are 
 you become ? Is it such a matter, to get a pottle - 
 pot's maidenhead ? 
 
 Page. He called me even now, my lord, through 
 a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face 
 from the window : at last, I spied his eyes ; and, 
 methonglit, he had made two holes in the ale-wife's 
 new petticoals, and peeped through. 
 
 P. Hen. H itli not the boy profited ? 
 
 Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away ! 
 
 Page. Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away ! 
 
 P. Hen. Instruct us, boy : What dream, boy ? 
 
 Page. Marry, my lord, Altliea dreamed she was 
 delivered of a hre-brand ; and therefore 1 call him 
 her dream. 
 
 P. Ren. A crown's worth of good mterpretation, 
 — There it is, boy. [Gives him money.] 
 
 Poins. O, that this good blossom could be kept 
 from cankers! — Well, there is sixpence to preserve 
 thee. 
 
 Bard. An you do not make him be hanged among 
 you, the gallows shall have wrong. 
 
 P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph? 
 
 Bard. Well, my loid. He heard of your grace'n 
 coming to town; there's a letter for you. 
 
 Poins. Delivered with good respect. — And hov» 
 doth the martlenias, your master? 
 
 Bard. In bodily health, sir. 
 
 Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a phys/ 
 ciaii : but that moves not him; though that be sick 
 it dies not. 
 
 P. Hen. I do allow this wen to be as familial 
 with me as my dog : and he holds his place ; for 
 look you, how he writes. 
 
 Puins. [Reads.) John Falstaff, knight, — Every 
 man must know that, as oft as he has occasion to 
 name himself. Even like those, that are kin to the 
 king ; for they never prick their finger, but they say 
 There is some of the ting's blood spill : Hou, 
 comes that! says he, that takes ujion him not to 
 conceive: the answer is as ready as a borrower's 
 cap ; / nm the king's poor cousin, sir. 
 
 P. Hen. Nay, they will be king to us, or they will 
 fetch it from Japhet. But the letter: — 
 
 Poins. Sir John Falstalf, knight, to the son oj 
 the king, nearest his father, Harry prince oJ 
 Wales, greeting. — Why, this is a certificate. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace '. 
 
 Poins. I ivill imitate the honourahle Poman in 
 brevity : — he sure means brevity in breath ; short- 
 winded. — / commend me to tiiee, I commend thee, 
 and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins: 
 for he misuses thy favours so much, that he 
 swears, thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent 
 at idle times as thou may'st, and so farewell. 
 
 Thine, by yea and no, {which is as 
 nnichos to say, as thou tisest him',) 
 Jack Falstaff, ivith my familiars ; 
 John, tvith my brothers and sisters ; 
 and sir John, tvith all Europe. 
 My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and make 
 him eat it. 
 
 P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his 
 words. But do you use me thus, Ned ? must I 
 marry your sister? [but I never said so, 
 
 Poivs. May the wench have no worse fortune ; 
 
 P. Hen. VVell, thus we play the fools with the 
 time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds, 
 and mock us. — Is your master here in London? 
 
 Bard Yes, my lord. 
 
 P. Hen. Where sups he ? doth the old boar feed 
 in the old frank ? 
 
 Bard. At the old place, my lord ; in Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Hen. What company ? 
 
 Page. Ephesians, my lord ; of the old church. 
 
 P. Hen. Sup any women with him ? 
 
 Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, 
 and mistress Doll Tear-sheet. 
 
 P. Hen. W hat pagan may that be ? 
 
 Page A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kins- 
 woman of my master's. 
 
 P. Hen. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are 
 to the town bull. — Shall we steal upon them, Ned 
 at supper? [you. 
 
 Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; I'll follow 
 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy,— and Bardolph; — no 
 word to your master, that I am yet come to town : 
 There's for your silence. 
 
 Bard. I have no tongue, sir. 
 
 Page. And for mine^ sir, — 1 will govern it. 
 
 P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go. {Exeunt Bardolph 
 and Page.]^- i'iiis Doll Tear-sheet should be some 
 road. 
 
 Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way 
 between St. Alban's and London, 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KINGr HENRY IV. 
 
 353 
 
 P. Hen. How miglit we see F.alsfair bestow him- 
 self to-night in his true colours, and !iot ourselves 
 be seen ? 
 
 Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, 
 and wait upon him at his table as drawers. 
 
 P. Hen. From a god to a bullf a heavy descen- 
 sion ' it was Jove's case. From a prince to a pren- 
 tice ? a low transformation I that shall be mine : 
 for, in every thing, the purpose must vvei^h wi h 
 the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — Warhicurlk. Before the Castle. 
 
 Enter NOHrHUMBERLAND, Lady NORTHUMDER- 
 
 iAND, a7id Lady Percy. 
 
 North. I piay thee, loving wife, and gentle datigh- 
 Give even way unto my rongli affairs : [ter. 
 
 Put not you on the visage ol the times, 
 And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. 
 
 Lady N. 1 have given over, I will speak no more : 
 Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide. 
 
 North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn ; 
 \nd, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
 
 Lady P. (), yet, for God's sake go not to these 
 wars ! 
 'I he time was, father, that you broke your word. 
 When you were more endear'd to it than now ; 
 When your own Percy , when my heart's dear Harry, 
 Threw many a northward look, to see his father 
 Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. 
 Who then persuaded you to stay at home ? 
 There were two honours lost ; yours, and your son's. 
 For vours, — may heavenly glory brighten it ! 
 For his, — it stuck upon him, as the sun 
 lu the grey vault of heaven : and, by his light. 
 Did all the chivalry of England move 
 To do brave acts ; he was, indeed, the glass 
 Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
 He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait: 
 And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish. 
 Became the accents of the valiant; 
 For those, that'could speak low, and tardily. 
 Would turn their own jierfection to abuse, 
 To seem like him : So that, in speech, in gait. 
 In diet, in affections of delight. 
 In niilitiiry rules, humours ol blood. 
 He was the mark and glass, copy and book. 
 That i'ashion'd others. And him, — O wondrous him ! 
 O miracle of men ! — him did you leave, 
 (Second to none, unseconded by you,) 
 To look upon the hideous god of war 
 In disadvantage, to abide a field, 
 Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name 
 Did seem defensible : — so you left him ; 
 Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong, 
 To hold your honour more precise and nice 
 With others, than with him; let them alone ; 
 The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong : 
 And my sweet Harry had but half their numbers. 
 To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, 
 Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. 
 
 North. Beshrew your heart, 
 
 Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me, 
 With new lamenting ancient oversigiits. 
 But I must go, and meet with danger there ; 
 Or it will seek me in another place, 
 And find me worse provided. 
 ^ Lady N. O, fly to Scotland, 
 
 Till that the nobles, and the armed commons, 
 Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
 
 Lady A If they get ground and vantage of the 
 
 Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, 
 To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, 
 First let iheni try themselves : So did your son ; 
 He was so suffer'd ; so came I a widow ; 
 And never shall have length of life enough, 
 To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, 
 i hat it (nay grow and sprout as high as heaven. 
 For recordation to my noble husband. [mind, 
 
 Korth. Come, come, go in with me ; 'tis with my 
 
 i'ay. 
 
 Excnvt 
 Boar's 
 
 As with the fide swell'd up unto its heij^ht. 
 That makes a still-stand, running neither way. 
 Fain would I go to meet the archbishop. 
 But many thousand reasons hold me buck 
 I will resolve for Scotland; theie am I, 
 'i'ill time and vantage crave my company. 
 
 Scene \Y .—Lovdon. A Room in the 
 Head Tavern, in Eastcheap. 
 
 Enter Two Drawers. 
 
 1 Draiv. What the devil hast thou brought there ' 
 apple-Johns? thou know'st, sir Jctin cannot endure 
 an apple-John. 
 
 2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true : The hrince once 
 set n dish of apple-Johns before him, and told him, 
 there were five more sir Johns : and, pntling off his 
 hat, said, / ivill note take my leave of these six dry, 
 round, old, witheredknights. It angered him to the 
 heart; but he hath forgot that. 
 
 1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down : 
 And see if thou canst rind out Sneak's noise ; mistress 
 Tear-sheet would fain hear some music. Des))atch : 
 — The room where they supped, is too hot; they'll 
 come in straight. 
 
 2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the luiiue, and 
 master Poins anon ; and they will put on two of oor 
 jerkins, and aprons ; and sir John must not know 
 of it: Bardolph hath brought word. 
 
 1 Draw. By (he mass, here will be old litis: It 
 will be an excellent stratagem. 
 2. Draw. I'll see if I can find out Sneak. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Hostess and Doll Tk/VE- sheet. 
 
 Host. I'faith, sweet heart, methinks now yon are 
 in an excellent good temperality : your pulsidge 
 beats as extraordinarily as heart would desire ; and 
 vour colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose : 
 But, i'faith, you have drunk too much canaries; and 
 that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes 
 the blood ere one can say, — What's this ? How do 
 you now ? 
 
 Doll. Better than I was. Hern. 
 
 Host. Why, that's well said : a good heart's worth 
 gold. Look, here comes sir Jolin. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, sitiging. 
 
 Fal. When Arthur first in court — Empty the 
 Jordan. — And teas a iv or thy king: [Exit Draiver.] 
 How now, mistress Doll ? 
 
 Host. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth. 
 
 Fal. So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, 
 they are sick. [you give me ? 
 
 Doll. You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort 
 
 Fal You make fat rascals, mistress Doll. 
 
 Doll. I make them ! gluttony and diseases make 
 them ; I make them not. 
 
 Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you 
 help to make the diseases, Doll : we catch of you, 
 Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, 
 grant that. 
 
 Doll. Ay, marry ; our chains and our jewels. 
 
 Fal. Hour brooches , pearls and owches ; — for to 
 serve bravely, is to come halting off, you know : 
 To come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, 
 and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon the charge 
 chambers bravely : — [yourself! 
 
 Doll. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang 
 
 Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion ; you 
 two never meet, but you fall to some discord : you 
 are both, in good troth, as rheumatic as two dry 
 toasts , you cannot one bear with another's confirm - 
 ities. What the good-year ! one must bear, and that 
 must be you : {to Doll) you are the weaker vessel, 
 as they say, the emptier vessel. 
 
 Doll. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a hnge 
 full hogshead ? lliere's a whole merchant's ventuie 
 of Bordeaux stuff in him ; you have not seen a hulk 
 better stuffed in the hold.— Come, I'll be friends 
 with thee, Jack : thou art going to the wars ; and 
 
 23 
 
354 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 ■wliether 1 shall ever see thee again, or no, there is 
 nobody cares. 
 
 Re-enter Drawer. 
 
 Draiv. Sir, ancient Pistol's below, and would 
 gpenk with yoa. 
 
 Doll. Hang him, swaggering rascal ! let him not 
 cotne hither: it is the foul mouth'dst rogue in Eng- 
 Irind. 
 
 Host. If he swagger, let him Dot come here : no, 
 by my faith ; I intist live amongst my neighbours ; 
 I'll no swaggerers: I am in good name and fame 
 with tlie very best : — Shut the door ;— there comes 
 uo sw;iggerers here : I have not lived all this while, 
 to ha\ e swaggering now : — shut the door, I pray you. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ? — 
 
 Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John ; there 
 comes no swaggerers here. 
 
 Fid. Dost thou hear ! it is mine ancient. 
 
 Host. Tilly fully, sir John, never tell me; your 
 ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was 
 before master Tisick, the deputy, the other day ; 
 and, as he said to me, — it was no longer ago than 
 VVednesday last, — Neighbour Quickly, says he ; — 
 master Dumb, our minister, was by then; — Neigh- 
 bour Quickly, says he, receive those that are civil; 
 for, saith he, you are in an ill name; — now he said 
 so, I can tell whereupon ; for, says he, you are an 
 honest ivonian and well thought on; therefore take 
 heed what guests you receive : Receive, says he, no 
 swaggering companions. — Theae come none here; — 
 you would bless you to hear what he said : — no, I'll 
 uo swaggerers. 
 
 Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess ; a tame cheater, 
 he ; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy grey- 
 iiuiind : he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if 
 her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. — 
 Call him up, drawer. 
 
 Host. Cheater, call you him ? I will bar no ho- 
 liest man my house, nor no cheater: But 1 do not 
 love swaggering: by my troth, I am the worse, 
 when one says — swagger: feel, masters, how I 
 •shake ; look you, I warrant yoa. 
 Doll. So you do, hostess. 
 
 Host. Do I ? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere 
 an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and Page. 
 
 Pist. 'Save you, sir John ! 
 
 Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I 
 charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge 
 upon mine hostess. 
 
 Pist. I will discharge upon her, sir John, with 
 two bullets. [offend her. 
 
 Fal. She is pjstol-proof, sir ; you shall hardly 
 
 Host. Come, I'll dnnk no proofs, nor no bullets: 
 I'll drink no more than will do me good for no 
 man's pleasure, I. _ (charge yoti. 
 
 Pist. Then to you, mistress Dorothy ; I will 
 
 Doll. Charge me ? I scorn you, scurvy companion. 
 '■vVhat! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack- 
 inen mate ! Away, you mouldy rogue, away ! I am 
 meat for your master. 
 
 Pist. 1 know you, mistress Dorothy. 
 
 Doll. Away, you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy 
 bung, away ! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in 
 your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle 
 with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal ! you basket- 
 hilt stale juggler, you ! — Since when, 1 pray you, 
 sir ? — What, with two points on your shoulder i 
 much ! 
 
 Pist. I will murder your rufif for this. 
 Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have you go 
 oti'here: discharge yourself of our company. Pistol. 
 Host. No, good captain Pistol : not here, sweet 
 captain. 
 
 Doll. Captain 1 thou abominable damned cheater, 
 art thou not ashamed to be called — captain ? If cap- 
 tains were of my mind, they would truncheon you 
 out, for taking tueir names npon you before you 
 
 have earned them. You a captain, you »l<«ve ! 
 what? f.r tearing a poor whore's rulf in a Law.iy 
 hoiiSLcf — He a captain ! Hang him, rogue ! He lives 
 upon mouldy stewed prunes, and dried cake.i. A 
 captain! these villains will make the word captain 
 as odious as the word occupy : which was an ex- 
 cellent good word before it was ill sorted: there- 
 fore captains had need look to it. 
 
 Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient. 
 Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll. 
 Pist. Not I : tell thee what, corporal Bardolph ; — 
 I could tear her : — I'll be revenged on het. 
 Page. Pray thee, go down. 
 
 Pist. I'll see her damned first; — to Pluto's 
 damned lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and 
 tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say 1. 
 Down ! down, dogs ! down faitors ! Have we not 
 Hiren here ? 
 
 Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very 
 late, i'faith: I beseek yon now, aggravate your choler. 
 Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall 
 And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, [pack-horses. 
 Which cannot go but thirty miles a day. 
 Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, 
 And Trojan Greeks ? nay, rather damn them with 
 King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar. 
 Shall we fall foul for toys ? 
 
 Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter 
 
 words. [a brawl anon. 
 
 Bard. Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to 
 
 Pist. Die men, like dogs ; give crowns like pins ; 
 
 Have we not Hiren here ? 
 
 Host. O' my word, captain, there's none such 
 here. What the good year! do you think, I would 
 deny her ? For God's sake, be quiet. 
 
 Pist. Then, feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis : 
 Come, give's some sack. 
 
 Si fortu7ia me tormenta, sperato me contenta. — 
 Fear we broadsides V no, let the fiend give fire : 
 Give me some sack; — and, sweetheart, lie thou 
 there. ( Laying down his sword) 
 
 Come we to full points here ; and are et ceterai 
 nothing ? 
 Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet. 
 Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif: What ! we 
 have seen the seven stars. 
 
 Doll. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure 
 such a fustian rascal. 
 
 Pist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we not Gal- 
 loway nags ? 
 
 Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, Kke a shove- 
 groat shilling : nay, if he do nothing but speak no- 
 thing, he shall be nothing here. 
 Bard. Come, get you down stairs. 
 Pist. What ! shall we have incision ? shall we 
 imbrue ? — {Snatching up his sword.) 
 
 Then death rock me asleep, abridge my dolelhl day! 
 Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gapin.f wounds 
 Untwine the sisters three ! Come, .\tr()pr}s, I say ! 
 Host. Here's goodly stulF toward ! 
 Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. 
 Doll. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. 
 Fal. Get you down stairs. 
 
 {Drawing and driving Pistol out.) 
 
 Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear 
 
 keeping house, afore I'll be in tiifse tirnts and 
 
 frights. So; murder, I warrant now. — Alas, alas! 
 
 put up your naked weapons, put up yoiu- naked 
 
 weapons. [Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph. 
 
 Doll. 1 pray thee. Jack, be quiet: the rastal is 
 
 gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you. 
 
 Host. Are yon not hurt i'the groin? mclhought, 
 
 he made a shrewd thrust at your belly. 
 
 Re-enter B.^rdolph. 
 Fal. Have you turned him out of doors ? 
 Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk ; yoii liavs" 
 hurt him, sir, in the shoulder. 
 Fal. A rascal ! to brave me ! 
 Doll. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you ! Alas 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KI^G HENRY IV. 
 
 355 
 
 poop ape, how thou sweat'st ! Come, let me wipe 
 tliy face; — come on, you whoreson chaps ; — Ah, 
 rogue ! i'iaif.li, I «ove thee. 'I'lioii art as valorous 
 as Hector ol Troj, worth five of Agamemnon, and 
 tta times better than the nine worthies. Ah, villain ! 
 
 Fui. A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue in a 
 blanket. 
 
 Doll. Do, if thou darest for thy heart : if thou 
 dost, I'll canvas thee between a pair of sheets. 
 
 Enter Music. 
 
 Page. The music is come, sir. 
 
 Fal. Let them play; — Play, sirs. — Sit on my 
 knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave ! the rogue 
 (led from me like quicksilver. 
 
 Doll. I'taith, and thoti foilowedst him like a 
 church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew 
 hoar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o'days, and 
 foining o'nights, and begin to patch up thine old 
 body lor heaven?' 
 
 Enter behind, Prince Henry and P01N.S, disijuised 
 like Dratvers. 
 
 Fal. Peace, good Doll ! do not speak like a death's 
 head : do not bid me remember mnie end. 
 
 Doll. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? 
 
 Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would 
 have made a good pantler, he would have chipped 
 bread well. 
 
 Doll. They say, Poins has a good wit. 
 
 Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon.' his wit 
 i-i as thick, as Tewksbury mustard ; there is no more 
 conceit in him, than is in a mallet. 
 
 Doll. Why does the prince love him so then ? 
 
 Fal. Because their legs are both o<' a bigness :, 
 iuid he plays at cpioits well; and eats conger and 
 fennel ; and drinks otf candles' ends tor fi.ip-dra- 
 i;aiis ; and rides the wild mare with the boys ; and 
 j.iuips upon joint stools and swears with a good 
 uiace ; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto 
 the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling 
 ul discreet stories, and such other gambol taculties 
 lie hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, 
 for the whicii the prince admits iiiin : for the prince 
 himself is snch another; the weight of a hair will 
 turn the scales between their avoirdupois. 
 
 P. Hen. Would not this knave of a wheel have 
 his ears cutoff? 
 
 Poins. Lft's beat him before his whore. 
 
 P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not his 
 poll clawed like a parrot. 
 
 Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so 
 m.iiiv years outlive performance ? 
 
 Fal. Kiss me, Doll. 
 
 P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunc- 
 ;, n ! wliat says the almanack to that? 
 
 Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon, his 
 iiiiin, be. not lisping to his master's old tables; his 
 note book, his counsel-keeper. 
 
 Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
 
 Doll. Nay, truly ; I kiss thee with a most con- 
 stant heart. 
 
 Fal. I am old, I am old. 
 
 Doll. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy 
 voimg bov of tiiem all. 
 
 Fal. VVhat stuir wilt have a kirtle of? I shall 
 receive money on Thursday ; thou shalt have a cap 
 to-morrow. A merry song, come ; it grows iate, 
 we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am gone. 
 
 Doll. By my troth, thou'lt set me a weeping, an 
 thou sayest so : prove that ever I dress myself 
 handsome till thy return. — Well, hearken the end. 
 
 Fal. Some sack, Francis. 
 
 P. Hen. Poins. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing.) 
 
 Fal. Ha ! a bastard son of the king's ? — And art 
 not thou Poins his brother? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, 
 whdt a life dost thou lead i 
 
 Fal. A better than thou ; I am a gentleman, thou 
 art k drawer 
 
 /*. Hen. Very true, sir; and I come to draw you 
 out by the ears. 
 
 Hvat. O, the lord preserve thy good grace ! by 
 my troth, welcome to London. — Now tlie Lord 
 bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu, are you 
 come from Wales ? 
 
 Fal. 'J'hou whoreson mad compound of majesty, 
 — by this light flesh and corrupt l)loo<i, thou art 
 welcome. [Leaning his hand upon Doll.) 
 
 Doll. How ! you fat tool, I si orn you. 
 
 Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your 
 revenge, ana turn all to a merriment, if you take 
 not the heat. 
 
 P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, yon, how 
 vilely did you speak of me even now, before this 
 honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman? 
 
 Host. 'Blessing o'your good heart ! and so she is, 
 by my troth. 
 
 Fal. Didst fhou hear me? 
 
 P. Hen. Yes ; and you knew me, as you did when 
 you ran away by Gads hill; you knew, I was at your 
 back ; and spoke it on purpose, to try my patience. 
 
 Fal. No, no, no: not so; 1 did not think, thou 
 wast within hearing. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the 
 wilf il abuse; and then I know how to handle you. 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour, no abuse. 
 
 P. Hen. Not ! to dispraise me ; and call me — 
 pantler, and bread-chipper, and I know not what? 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal. 
 
 Poins. No abuse ! 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world ; honegt Ned, 
 none. I dispraised him before the wicked, tnat the 
 wicked might not fall in love with him : — in which 
 doing I have done the part of a careful friend, and 
 a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks 
 for it. — No abuse, Hal ; — none, Ned, none ; — no, 
 boys, none. 
 
 P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire 
 cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous 
 gentlewoman to close with us ? Is she of' the wicked ? 
 Is thine hostess here of the wicked ? Or is the boy 
 of the wicked ? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal 
 burns in his nose, of the wicked ? 
 
 Poins. ."Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
 
 Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph ir- 
 recoverably ; and his face is Liicif>.-r's privy-kitchen, 
 where he doth nothing but roast uialt-vvonns. For 
 tlie boy, — there is a good angel about him; but the 
 devil outbids him too. 
 
 P. Hen. For the women, — 
 
 Fal. For one of them, — she in in hell already, 
 and burns, poor soul .' For the other, — I owe her 
 money ; and whether she be damned for that, I 
 know not. 
 
 Host. No, I warrant you. 
 
 Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art 
 quit for that: Marry, there is another indictment 
 upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy 
 house, contrary to the law ; lor the which, I think, 
 thou wilt hov/l. 
 
 Host. All victuallers do so: What's 9 joint of 
 mutton or two in a whole Lent ? 
 
 P. Hen. You, gentlewoman, — 
 
 Doll. What says your grace ? [against 
 
 Fal. His grace' says that which his flesh rebels 
 
 Hast. Who knocks so loud at the door ? look to 
 the door there, Francis. 
 
 Enter Peto. 
 
 P. Hen. Peto, how now ? what news ? 
 
 Peto. The king your father is at Westminster; 
 And there are twenty weak and wearied posts. 
 Come from the north : and, as I c;inie along, 
 I met, and overtook, a dozen captains. 
 Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the ta\ern8. 
 And asking every one for sir John Falsta.T. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I leel nie much to 
 So idly to profane the precious time; [blame. 
 
 When tempest of commotion, like toe south 
 
356 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Borne with black vapour, doth begin fo melt, 
 And drop upon our bare un;irnied heads. 
 Give me my sword and cloak : — Falstaff, good night. 
 [Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto, and 
 Bardolph. 
 
 Fal- Now comes in tiie sweetest morsel of the 
 night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. 
 [Knocking heard.) More knocking at the door i 
 
 Be-enter Bardolph. 
 How now ? what's the matter ? 
 
 Bard. Von must away to court, sir, presently ; 
 a dozen captains slay at door ibr you. 
 
 Fal. Pay tiie musicians, sirrali/To the Par/e.J — 
 Farewell, hostess; — farewell, Doll. — Vou see, my 
 good wenches, how men of merit are sought after : 
 the iindeser\er may sleep, when the man of action 
 is called on. Farewell, good wenches : III be not 
 sent away post, I will see you again ere 1 go. 
 
 Dull. 1 cannot speak; — If my tieart be not ready 
 10 burst: — well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. 
 
 F((l. Farewell, Farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Ho-ft. Well, fare thee well : 1 have known thee 
 these twenty-nine years, come peascod time ; but 
 an honester and truer-hearted man, — Well, fare 
 thea well. 
 
 Bard. {TVithin.) Mistress Tear-sheet,— 
 
 Host. Whafs tlie matter ? ' 
 
 Bard. ( I J ithin.) Bid mistress Tear-sheet come 
 to my master. 
 
 Host. O run, Doll, run ; run, good Doll. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene l.-~A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King [Ienuy in his night-gown, with a Page. 
 
 K. Hen. (io, call the earls of Surrey and of 
 Warwick ; 
 But, ere they come, bid them o'erread these letters, 
 And well consider of them : Make good speed. — 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep. 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have 1 frighted thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses m forgetfilness ? 
 Why ratiier, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
 Upon uneasy pallets stretching Ihee, 
 And hush'd with buzzing niglit-flies to thy slumber ; 
 Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great. 
 Under the canopies of costly state. 
 And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? 
 O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile 
 In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, 
 A watch-case, or a common 'lartim bell:" 
 Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
 Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
 In cra;lle of the rude imperious surge ; 
 And in the visitation of the winds. 
 Who take the ruffian billows by the top. 
 Curling their monstruous heads, and hanging them 
 With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds. 
 That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? 
 Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose 
 To the wet seaboy in an hour so rude ; 
 And. in the calmest and most stillest night. 
 With all appliances and means to boot. 
 Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
 Enter Warwick and Surrey. 
 
 War. Many good morrows to your majesty ! 
 
 K._ Hen. Is it good morrow, lords ? 
 
 War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. [lords. 
 
 K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my 
 Have you rend o'er the letters that I sent you ? 
 
 W^ii ^^,^'^^^^' I'y ''<^Se- (kingdom 
 
 A. Hen. 'Phen you perceive, the body of our 
 How foul it is; what rank diseases grow. 
 And with what danger, near the heart of it. 
 War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd ; 
 
 Which to his former strength may be restor'd, 
 VVith good advice, and little inedecine. — 
 My lord Norlluitiiberland will. soon be cooVd. 
 A'. Hen. O heaven ! that one might read the book 
 of fate ; 
 And see the revolution ot the times 
 Make mountains level, and the continent 
 (Weary of solid firmness,) melt itself 
 into tiie .sea ! and, other tunes, to see 
 'i'he beachy girdle of the ocean 
 Too wide lor Neptune's hips ; how chances mock. 
 And changes hll the cup of alteration 
 With divers liquors! O, if this were seen. 
 The happiest youth, — viewing his progress through. 
 What perils past, what crosses to ensue, — 
 Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. 
 'Tis not ten years gone. 
 
 Since Ilichard, and Northumberland, great friends. 
 Did feast together, and, in two years after, 
 V\'ere they at wars : It is but eight years since 
 This Percy was the man nearest my soul ; 
 Who like a brother toil'd in my afiatrs. 
 And laid his love and life under my foot ; 
 Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard, 
 Gnve him defiance. But which of you was by, 
 (You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,) 
 
 (To Warwuk.^ 
 When Richard, — with his eye briuifull of tears, 
 Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, — 
 Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy ? 
 Northumberland. tho%i ladder, by the ivhich 
 My cousin Bolingbroke ascends 7)iy throne ; — 
 Though then, heaven knows, I had no such intent; 
 But that necessity so bow'd the state. 
 That I and greatuess were compelled to kiss : — 
 The titnt shall come, thus did he follow it, 
 T'/ie time will come, that foul sin, gathering head. 
 Shall break into corruption : — so v\ ent ou. 
 Foretelling this same time's condition, 
 And the division of our amity. 
 
 War. 'i'here is a history in all men's lives. 
 Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd : 
 Tlie whicii obstrv'd, a man may prophecy, 
 With a near aim, ol the main chance of tilings 
 As yet not come to lite ; which in their seeds. 
 And weak beginnin.;s, lie intreasured. 
 Such things become the hatch and brood of time ; 
 And, by the n8cess:iry form of this. 
 King Richard might create a perfect gi:ess. 
 That great Northnniberland, then false to liim. 
 Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness ; 
 Which should not find a ground lo root upon. 
 Unless on you. 
 
 K. Hen. Are these things then necessilie.s :' 
 Then let us meet them like necessities: — 
 And that same word even now cries out on us; 
 'I'hey say, the bishop and Northumberland 
 Are fifty thousand strong. 
 
 War. It cannot be, my loi u : 
 
 Rumour doth double,, like the voice and echo, 
 'i^he numbers of the fear'd : — Please it your grace 
 To go to bed ; upon my life, my lord. 
 The powers that you already have sent forth, 
 Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
 To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd 
 A certain instance, that Glendower is dead. 
 Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ; 
 And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add 
 Unto your sickness. 
 
 K. Hen. I will take your counsel ; 
 
 And, were these inward wars once out of hand, 
 We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. 
 
 [Exeuyit. 
 
 Scene II. — Court before Justice Shallow's House 
 in Gloucestershire. 
 
 Enter Shal\jOW and Silence, meeting; Mouldy, 
 Shadow, Wart, Ieeble, JJull-calf, and 
 Servants, behind. 
 Shal. Come on, come iin, con>e on', give ma 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 557 
 
 yourhaixl, sir, give me yoiir hand, sir: an early 
 stirrer, bv tlie rood. And how dotli my good cousid 
 Silence ! 
 
 Si/. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
 ISAal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow ? 
 and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god- 
 daughter Ellen ? 
 
 ^'il. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. 
 S/uil. By yea and nijy, sir, I dare say, my cousiu 
 William is become a i;ood scholar: lie is at Oxford, 
 elill. is he not? 
 
 tSii. Indeed, sir; to my cost. 
 S/m/. lie must then to the inns of court shortly : 
 f was once of Clement's inn; where, I think, they 
 Hill talk of mad Shallow yet. 
 *SV/. You were called — lusty Shallow, then, cousin. 
 S/ial. By the mass, I was called any thing; and 
 I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly 
 toe. There was I, and little John Doit of Stafford- 
 shire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pick- 
 houe, and Will Squele a Gotswold man, — yon had 
 not lour such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of 
 court again : and, I may say to you, we kuew where 
 the bona-robas were ; and had the best of them all 
 at coiHuiandment Then was Jack Falstatt", now sir 
 John, a boy ; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke 
 of Norfolk. [about soldiers? 
 
 Sil. 'J'his sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon 
 S/ial. The same sir John, the very same. I saw 
 tiim break Skogan's head at the court gate, when 
 he was a crack, not thus high : and the very same 
 (lay did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruit- 
 erer, behind Gray's inn. O, the mad days that I have 
 spent ! and to see how many of mine old acquaint- 
 ances are dead I 
 
 Sil. We shall all follow, cousiti. 
 SAal. Certain, 'tis certain ; very sure, very suie; 
 death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all 
 shall die. — How good a yoke of bullocks at Stam- 
 ford fair ? 
 
 Si/. Truly, cousin, I was not there. 
 ■S/ial. Death is certain. — Is old .Double of your 
 town living yet ! 
 Si/. Dead, sir. _ 
 
 S/i((/.. Dead I — See, see! — he drew a good bow; 
 And dead !— he shot a tine shoot: — John of Gaunt 
 Jiived hiiu well, and betted much money on his head. 
 Dead 1 — he would hav^clapjied i'the clout at twelve 
 ecore ; and carried yow a iorehand shaft a fourteen 
 and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a 
 man's heart good to see. — How a score of ewes now? 
 Si/- Therealteras tliey be: a score of good ewes 
 may be worth ten pounds. 
 ■S/ia/. And is old Double dead ! 
 
 Enter Bardolph, and one with hiui. 
 
 Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaft''s men, 
 as 1 thifik. 
 
 Bard. Good iiionow, honest gentlemen : I be- 
 ceech you, wliicli is justice Shallow V 
 
 Shed. 1 aiM Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire 
 of this coiHity, and one of tlie king's justices of the 
 i*eace; What is your good pleasure with iiie ? 
 
 Bard. i\ly captain, sir, commends him to you ; 
 cfiy captain, sir John Falstati'; a tall gentleman, by 
 heaven, and a most gallant leader. 
 
 SliaL He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good 
 ''cksword man; How doth the good knight ? may 
 J ask, how my Jady his wife doth i 
 
 Bard. Sir, pardon; a foldieris better accommo- 
 dated, than with a wife. 
 
 Ska/. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well 
 said indeed too. Better accommodated J— it is 
 good; yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are surely, 
 and ever were, very coiiiinendable. Accoiiiinodated I 
 — it coiues from accomniodo: very good; a good 
 phrase. 
 
 Bard. Pardon rue sir. 1 have heard the word. 
 Phra.se, call you it? By tliis good day, I know not 
 tie phrase; bu-t I will maintain the word with my 
 
 sword, to be a soldier like word and a word or ex- 
 ceeding good command Aecummodated ; 'i'hat is 
 when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or, 
 •vhen a man is, — being, — wiiereby, — he may be 
 tiiought to be accommodated ; which is an excellent 
 thing. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Skal. It is very just : — Look, here comes good 
 sir John. — Give me your good hand, give me you 
 worship's good hand: By my troth, you look wttl. 
 and bear your years very well : welcome, good s.i 
 John. 
 
 Fa/. I am glad to see you well, good masttt 
 Robert Siiallow : — Master Sure-card, as I think. 
 
 Ska/. No, sir John; it is my cousin Silence, iu 
 commission with me. 
 
 Fal. Good master Silence, it well belts you 
 should be of the peace. 
 
 Si/. Your good worship is welcome. 
 
 Fa/. Fy ! this is hot weather. — Gentlemen, have 
 you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men''' 
 
 S/ial. Marry, have we, sir. VVill you sit ? 
 
 Fa/. Let me see tiiem, 1 beseech you. 
 
 S/ial.Wheve's the roll ? where 's the roll ? where 's 
 the roll ? — Let me see, let ine see. So, so, so, so : 
 Yea, inarry, sir.— Ralph Mouldy : — let them appear 
 as I call; let them do so, let them do so. — Let nie 
 see : Where is Mouldy '? 
 
 Moid. Here, an't please yon. 
 
 Ska/. What think you, sir John? a good limbed 
 fellow : young, .strong, and of good friends. 
 
 Fal. Is thy name Mouldy ':" 
 
 Moid. Y ea, an't please you. 
 
 Fa/. 'Tis the more time thou wert used. 
 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! most excellent, i' faith ! tilings, 
 that are mouldy, lack use: Very singular good !— 
 In faith, well said, sir John ; very well said. 
 
 Fa/. Prick hiia. [To Shallow., 
 
 Moid. I was pricked well enough before, an yo'i 
 could have let me alone; my old dame will be un- 
 done now, for one to do her husbandry, and her 
 drudgery : you need not have pricked me ; there are 
 other men fitter to go out than I. 
 
 Fa/. Go to ; peace, Mouldy, you shall go Mouldy 
 it is time you were spent. 
 
 Moid. Spent! 
 
 Slial. Peace, fellow, peace ; stand aside : Know 
 you where you are i — For the oth^r^ sir John : — le 
 me see ; — Simon Shadow ! 
 
 Fal. Ay, marry, let me have him to sit under: 
 he's like to be a cold soldier. 
 
 Sha/. Where's Shadow i 
 
 Shad. Here, sir. 
 
 Fa/. Shadow, whose son art thou? 
 
 Shad. My mother's son, sir 
 
 Fal. Thy mother's son ! like enough ; afid thy 
 father's shadow : so the son of the teinale is the 
 shadow of the male ; It is often so, indeed ; but uot 
 mucli of tlie fatlier's substance. 
 
 Shal. Do you like him, sir John ? 
 
 Fa/. Shadow will serve for summer, — prick him, 
 — for we have a number of sliadows to fill up the 
 rauster-book. 
 
 Shal. Thomas Wart ! 
 
 Fa/. Where's he ? 
 
 Wart. Here, sir. 
 
 Fa/. Is thy name Wart? 
 
 Wart. Yea, sir. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. 
 
 Shal. Sliail i prick him, sir John. 
 
 Fal. It were superiliious ; for his apparel is built 
 upon his back, and the whole frame stands upoa 
 pins : prick him no more. 
 
 S/ial. Ha, ha, ha ! — you can do it, sir ; you can do 
 it; 1 commend you svell. — Francis Feeble! 
 
 Fee. Here, sir 
 
 Fal. What trade art thou. Feeble ? 
 
 Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 
 Shal. Shall 1 prick him, sir? 
 
S58 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 Fal. Von may : but if lie hatl been a man's (ai- 
 lor, he would have pricked you. — Wilt thou make 
 as many holes in an enemy's battle, as ttiou hast 
 done iu a woman's petticoat? [more. 
 
 Fee. I will do my good will, sir ; you can have no 
 Fal. Well said, good woman's tailor ! well said, 
 courageous Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the 
 wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse. — Prick 
 the woman's tailor well, master Shallow; deep, 
 master Shallow. 
 
 Yee. I would, Wart might have gone, sir. 
 
 Fal. I would, thou wert a man's tailor; that thou 
 
 miglit'st mend him, and make him ht to go. I cannot 
 
 put liim to a pri<ate soldier, that is the leader of so 
 
 many thousands: Let that suffice, most forcible 
 
 Fee. It shall suffice, sir. (Feeble. 
 
 Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. — 
 Who is the next? 
 
 Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the green! 
 
 Fal. Yea, marry, let us see Bull-calf. 
 Bull. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! — Come, prick 
 me Bull-calf till he roar again. 
 
 Bull. O lord ! good my lord captain, — 
 
 /^«/. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked ? 
 
 Bull. O lord, sir ! 1 am a diseased man. 
 
 Fal. What disease hast thou ? 
 
 Bull. A whoreson cold, sir ; a cough, sir ; which 
 I caught with ringing in the king's afiairs, upon his 
 coronation day, sir. 
 
 Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown : 
 we will have away tliy cold ; and I will take such 
 Older , that thy fiiends .shall ring for thee. — Is here 
 all? 
 
 Skal. Here is two more called than your number ; 
 you must have but four here, sir; — and so, I pray 
 you, go in with me to dinner. 
 
 Fal. Come, 1 will go drink with you, but I cannot 
 tarry dinner, i am glad to see you, in good troth, 
 master Shallow. 
 
 fi/ial. O, sir John, do you remember since we lay 
 all iii^ht in the windmill in Saint George's tields ? 
 
 Fal. No mure of tliat, good master Siiallow, no 
 more of that. 
 
 S/ial. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane 
 Niglit- work alive? 
 
 Fal. Slie li»es, master Shallow. 
 
 Slial. She never could away with me. 
 
 Fal. Never, never; she would always say, she 
 could not abide master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. By the mass, I could auger her to the heart. 
 She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own 
 well ? 
 
 Fai. Old, eld, master Shallow. 
 
 S/ial, Nay, she must be old ; she cannot choose 
 but be old ; certain, she's old : and had Uobin 
 Night work by old Night-work, before 1 came to 
 Clement's inn. 
 
 Sit. That's fifty five years ago. 
 
 Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, th^tt thou hadst seen 
 that, that tiiis knight and I have seen! — Ha, sir 
 John, said I v\'eH ? [master Siiallow. 
 
 Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, 
 
 Shal That we have, that we have, that we have; 
 in fiiith, sir John, we have ; our watch-word was. 
 Hem, boys ! — Come, let's to dinner ; come, let's to 
 dimitr; — O, the days that we have seen! — Come, 
 come. {Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence. 
 
 Bull. Good master corporate bardolpii, stand 
 my friend ; and here is four Harry ten shillings in 
 Fieiich crowns for you. In very truth, sir, 1 hud as 
 liet be hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own 
 part, sir, 1 do not care ; but, rather, because I am 
 unwilling, and, for mine own part, liave a desire to 
 stay with my friends; else, sir, I did not care, for 
 mine own part, so much. 
 
 Baid. Go to; stand aside. 
 
 Moul. And good master corporal captain, for my 
 old dame's sake, stand my friend : she lias nobodv to 
 do *ny thing about her, wueu 1 am gone ; and slie 
 
 IS old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, 
 sir. 
 
 Bard. Go to; staivd aside. 
 
 Fee. By my troth I care not ; — a man can die but 
 once ; — we owe God a death ; — I'll ne'er bear a base 
 mind : — an't be my destiny, so ; an't be not, so: No 
 man's too good to serve his prince ; and, let it go 
 which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for 
 the next. 
 
 Bard. Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow. 
 
 Fee. 'Faith, I'll bear no base mind. 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff, and Justices, 
 
 Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? 
 
 Shal. Four of which you please. 
 
 Bard. Sir, a word with you : — I have three pound 
 to free Mouldy and Bull-calf. 
 
 Fal. Go to ; well. 
 
 Shal. Come, sir John, which four will you have ? 
 
 Fal. Do you choose for me. 
 
 Shal. Marry then,— Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, 
 and Shadow. 
 
 Fal. Mouldy, and Bull calf :— For you. Mouldy, 
 stay at home still ; you are past service; — and, for 
 your part. Bull-calf, — grow till you come unto it ; I 
 will none of you. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, sir John, do not yourself wrong j 
 they are your likeliest men, and I would have you 
 served with the best. 
 
 Fal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to 
 choose a man ? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the 
 stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give 
 me the spirit, master Shallow. — Here's Wart ; — jou 
 see what a ragged appearance it is: he shall charge 
 you and discharge you, with the motion ol a 
 pewterer's hammer; come ofi', and on, swifter thau 
 he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. Aud tliLs 
 same half-faced fellow. Shadow, — give me this man ; 
 he presents no mark to the enemy ; the Ibemaii may 
 with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife : 
 And, for a retreat, — how swiftly will this Fetble, 
 the woman's tailor, run ofl"? O, give me (he spare 
 men, and spare mn the great ones. — Put me a cali- 
 verinto Wart's hand, Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse ; thus, thus, thus. 
 
 Fal. Come, manage nie your caliver. So: —very 
 well: — go to: — very good: — exceeding good. — O, 
 give me always a little lean, old, chapped, bald 
 shot. — Well said, i'faith. Wart ; thou'rt a good scaU: 
 hold, there's a tester for thee. 
 
 Shad. He is not his craft's master, he doth noS 
 do it right. I remember at Mile-end green, (when 
 I lay at Clement's inn, — I was then Sir Dagouet in 
 Arthur's show,) there was a liltle quiver fellow, and 
 'a would manage you his piece thus, and 'a wouI(3 
 about, and about, and come you in, and come you 
 in : rah, tah, tah, would 'a say : bounce, would 'a 
 say ; and away again would 'a go, and again would 
 'a come : — 1 shall never see such a fellow. 
 
 Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shallow. 
 — God keep you, master Silence ; I will not us.* 
 many words with you : — Fare you well, gentlemeu 
 both : I thank you : I must a doxen mile to-night.— 
 Bardoluh, give the soldiers t:oats. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper 
 your ati'airs, and send us peace ! As you return, visit 
 my house ; let our old acquaintance be renewed .- 
 peradventure, I will with you to the co.irt. 
 Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. 
 Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you 
 well. [Exeunt Shallow and Silence, 
 
 Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 0», Bar- 
 dolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt Bardolph, 
 Recruits, &.C.] As I return, I will fetch oil' these 
 justices : I do see the bottom of justice Shallow. 
 Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice 
 of lying! This .same starved justice hath done 
 nothing but prate to me of (he wildness of hi» 
 youth, and the feats he hath done aUjut Tiirnbull- 
 street ; and every third wwd a lie, duer paid to the 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 359 
 
 nearer than (he Turk's tribute. I do remember liim 
 atClemt-nt's inn, like a ni;in made after supper of a 
 cheese-paring: when lie was naked, lie was. (or all 
 the wiind, like a forked radish, with a head fantasti- 
 cally carved upon it with a knife : he was so forlorn, 
 that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible ; 
 lie was tlie very Genius of (amine ; yet lecherous as 
 a monkey, and the whores called him — mandrake : 
 he came evef in tiie rear- ward of the fashion; and 
 sung those tunes to the over scutched huswives that 
 {ie heard the carmen whistle, and sware — they were 
 his fancies, or his good-nights. And now is this 
 Vice's dagger become a squire ; and talks as fami- 
 Jiarly of John ot Ga'int, as if he had been sworn 
 brother to liim : and I'll be sworn he never saw him 
 but once in the Tilt yard; and then he hurst his 
 iread, tor crowding among the marshal's men. I 
 saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own 
 name: for you might have tnissd him, and all his 
 apparel, into an eel-skin : the case of a treble haut- 
 boy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he 
 land and beexes. Well ; I will be acquainted with 
 him, if I return : and it shall go hard, but I will make 
 him a philosophers two stones to me. If the young 
 dace be a bait fur the old pike, I see no reason, in 
 the law of nature, but [ may snap at him. Let time 
 shape, and tliere an end. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Forest in Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, 
 Hastings, and others. 
 
 Arch. Wli:it is this forest call'd '? 
 
 Hast. 'Pis Gualtree forest, an't shall please your 
 grace. • [forth. 
 
 Arch. Here stand, my lords ; and send discoverers 
 To know the numbers of our enemies. 
 
 Hast. We have sent forth already. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis well done. 
 
 My friends, and brethren in these great aHairs, 
 I must acqiaint you, that 1 have receiv'd 
 New-date<i letters from Northumberland; 
 Their cold intent, tenour, and substance, thus : — 
 Here doth he wish his person, with such powers 
 As might hold sortance with his quality, 
 The which he could not levy; wliereupon 
 He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes. 
 To Scotlanil : and concludes in hearty prayers. 
 That your attenips may overlive the hazard. 
 And fearful met- ting of their opposite. 
 
 Motvb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch 
 And dash themselves to pieces. [ground. 
 
 Enters Messenger. 
 
 Hast. Now, what news? 
 
 Mess. West of this forest, scarcely otf a mile. 
 In goodly form come"* on the enemy : 
 And, by the gfound they hide, t judge their number 
 Upon, or near, the rate of thirty tiiotisand. 
 
 Mowb. The just proportion, tiiat we gave them out. 
 Let us sway on, and face them in the tield. 
 
 Enter Westmoreland. 
 
 Arch. What well appointed leader fronts us here ? 
 
 Mowb. i think, it is my lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 West. Health and fair greeting from our general. 
 The prince, lord John and duke ol L-incaster. 
 
 Arch. S ly on, my lord of Westmoieland, in peace ; 
 What doth concern your coming i 
 
 West. Then, my lord. 
 
 Unto your grace do I in chief ad Iress 
 The substance of my speech. If that rebell'ion 
 Came like itself, in base and abject routs, 
 Led on by bloo'ly youth, guarded with rage, 
 Andoountenanc'd by boys, and beggarv; 
 I say, if dainn'd commotion so appear'd. 
 In his true, iiali«e,and most proper shape, 
 V ou, reverend father, and tiiese noble lords. 
 Had not been here, to dress the ugly form 
 Ofhasi: ana bloody insurrection 
 
 With your fair honours. Von, lord archbishop,— 
 Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd; 
 VVhose beard the silver hand of peace hath toach'd ; 
 Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd ; 
 Whose white investments figure innocence. 
 The dove and very blessed spirit of peace. 
 Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, 
 Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace. 
 Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war? 
 Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood. 
 Your pens to lances; and your tongue divine 
 To a loud trumpet, and a point of war ? 
 
 Arch. Wherefore do 1 this ? — so the question 
 stands. 
 Briefly to this end : — We are all diseas'd ; 
 And', with our surfeiting, and wanton hours. 
 Have brought ourselves into a burning fever. 
 And we must bleed for it; of which disease 
 Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 
 Hut, my most noble lord of Westmoieland, 
 I take not on me here as a physician ; 
 Nor do I, as an enemy to peace. 
 Troop in the throngs of military men: 
 '{ut, rather, show a while like fearful war, 
 '1^0 diet rank minds, sick of happiness ; 
 And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 
 Our very veins of like. Hear nie more plainly. 
 I have in equal balancs justly weigh'd 
 What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs v <• 
 
 suffer, 
 And find our griefs heavier than our oflfences. 
 We see which way the stream of time doth run, 
 And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere 
 By the rough torrent of occasion; 
 And have the summary of all our griefs, 
 VVhen tir>e shall serve, to show in articles , 
 Which, long ere this, we offer'd to the king. 
 And might by no suit gain our audience : 
 When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our jjriel-. 
 We are denied access unto his person, 
 Even by those men, that most have done us wrunj;. 
 The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
 (VVhose memory is written on tlie earth 
 With yet appearing blood,) and the examples 
 Of every minute's instance, (present now,) 
 Have put us in these ill- beseeming arms ; 
 Not to break peace, or any branch of it ; 
 But to establish here a peace indeed. 
 Concurring both in name and quality. 
 
 West. When ever yet was your appeal denied f 
 Wherein have you been galled by the king ? 
 What peer hath been suborn'd to grate ou you '! 
 That you should seal this lawless bloody book 
 Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine. 
 And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? 
 
 Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth. 
 To brother born an household cruelty, 
 I make my quarrel in particular. 
 
 West. Tliere is no need of any such redress ; ' 
 Or, if there were, it not belongs to you. 
 
 Mowb. Why not to him, in part ; and to us all 
 That feel the bruises of the days before ; 
 And sufl'er the condition of these times 
 To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
 Upon our honours ? 
 
 West. O my good lord Mowbray, 
 
 Construe the times to their necessities. 
 And you shall say indeed, — it is the time. 
 And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
 Y et, for your part, it nut appears to me, 
 Eitiier from the king, or in the present time, 
 'i'hat you should have an inch of any ground 
 'I'o build a grirf on : Were you not restor'd 
 To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories, 
 Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's i 
 
 Mowb. What thing, ilii honour, had my father \oA, 
 That need to be reviv'd and bieath'd in me ? 
 The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then 
 Was, force perforce, conipell'd to banish him; 
 And then, when Harry Bolii^broke, and he,— 
 
300 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Being mounted, and both roused in their seats, 
 'J'heir neighing coursers, daring ol the spur. 
 Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down. 
 Their eyes of fire sparkbng through sights of steel, 
 And the hnid trumpet blowing them together; 
 Then, then, when there was nothing could have staid 
 My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, 
 O, when the king did throw his warder down. 
 His own life hung upon the stati'he threw ; 
 Then threw he down himself; and all their lives. 
 That, by indictment, and by dint of sword, 
 Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. 
 
 West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now yon know 
 not what ; 
 The earl of Hereford was reputed then 
 fn England the most valiant gentleman : 
 Who knows, on vvhom iuitune would then have 
 
 smil'd ? 
 But if your father had been victor there, 
 He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry : 
 For all the country, in a general voice. 
 Cried hate upon him, and all their prayers, and love, 
 Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, 
 And bless'd, and grac'd, indeed, more than tlie king. 
 But this is mere digression from my purpose.— 
 Here come I from our princely general, 
 To know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace. 
 That he will give you audience ; and wherein 
 It shall appear, that your demands are just. 
 You shall enjoy them ; every thing set otf, 
 That might so much as tiiink you enemies. 
 
 Moiub. But he hath forc'd us to compel this ofTer ; 
 And it proceeds from policy, not love. 
 
 West. Mowbray, you overween to take it so; 
 This oiler comes from mercy, not from fear : 
 For, lo I within a ken our army lies ; 
 Upon mine honour, all too confident 
 To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
 Our battle is more full of names than yoins. 
 Our men nfore perfect in the use ol' arms. 
 Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ; 
 Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good : — 
 Say you not then, our oiler is compell'd. 
 
 Motob. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley. 
 
 West. That argues but the shame of your offence : 
 A rotten case abides no handling. 
 
 Hast. Hath the prince a full commission. 
 In very ample xirtue of iiis father, 
 To hear, and absolutely to determine 
 Of what conditions we shall stand upon ? 
 
 West. That is intended in the general's name : 
 1 muse, you make so slight a cpiestiou. 
 
 Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this 
 schedule; 
 For this contains our general grievances : — 
 Each several article herein redress'd ; 
 All members of our cause, both here and hence 
 That are insinew'd to this action, 
 Acquitted by a true substantial form ; 
 .And present execution of our wills 
 lo as, and to our purposes, consign'd j 
 We come within our awful banks again. 
 And knit our powers to the arm of peace. 
 
 West. This will I show the general. Please you, 
 lords. 
 In sight of botli our battles we may meet : 
 And either end in peace, which heaven so frame ! 
 Or to the place of difference call the swords 
 Which must decide it. 
 
 Arch. My lord, we will do so. 
 
 [Exit West. 
 
 Mo7vb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me, 
 Thnt no conditions of our peace can stand. 
 
 Hast. Fear you not that : if we can make our peace 
 Upon such large terms, and so absolute, 
 As our conditions shall consist upon. 
 Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. 
 
 Motvb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such. 
 That every slight and false-derived cause, 
 Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reason. 
 
 Shall, to the king, tasle of this action 
 That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love. 
 We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind, 
 'I'hat even our corn shall seem as light as chafT, 
 And good from bad find no partition. [weary 
 
 Arch. No, no, my lord ; Note this,— the king ik 
 Of dainty and such picking grievances : 
 For he luith found, — to end one doubt by death, 
 Ilevi\es two greater in the heirs of life. 
 And therefore will he wipe his tables clean ; 
 And keep no tell-tale to his memory. 
 That may repeat and history his loss 
 To new remembrance : For' full well he knows. 
 He cannot so precisely weed this land. 
 As his misdoubts present occasion : 
 His foes are so enrooted with his friends, 
 Tiiat, plucking to unfix an enemy. 
 He doth imfasten so, and shake a friend. 
 So that this land, like an offensive wife. 
 That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes; 
 As he is striking, holds his infant up. 
 And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm 
 'l'ii;it was iiprear'd to execution. 
 
 Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his coda 
 Oil late ofiender.s, that he now doth lack 
 The very instruments of chastisement : 
 So that his power, like to a fangless lion. 
 May offer, but not hold. 
 
 Arch. 'Tis very true ; — 
 
 And therefore be assur'd, my good brd marshaj. 
 If we do now make our atonement well, 
 Our peace will, like a broken limb uaited, 
 (Jrow stronger for the breaking. 
 
 Moivb. Be it so. 
 
 Here is return'd my lord of WestmorelantJ, 
 
 Re-enter WESTMORrtiAND. 
 
 If 'est. The prince is here at hand : Pleaseth yonr 
 
 lordship, 
 To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies? 
 Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name tlieo 
 
 set forward. 
 Arch. Before, and greet his grace : — ray lord, w& 
 
 come. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Another Pari of the Forest 
 Enter, from one side, Mowbray, the Archbishop, 
 
 Hastings, and others; from the other side 
 
 Prince John of Lancaster, Westmorexand 
 
 Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 P. John. You are well eacouuter'd here. Bay 
 cousin Mowbray : — 
 Good day do you, gentle lord archbishop: — 
 And so to you, lord Hastings, — and to all. — 
 My lord of York, it better shew'd with you, 
 When that your flock, assembled by the bell. 
 Encircled yon, to hear with reverence 
 Your exposition on the holy text ; 
 Than now to see you here an iron ma»,^ 
 Cheering a rout ot" rebels with your drum. 
 Turning the word to sword, and life to death 
 That man, that sits within a monarch's heart. 
 And ripens in the sunshine of his favour. 
 Would he abuse the countenance of the king. 
 Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach. ■ 
 In shadow of such greatness ! With you, lord bishop 
 It is even so ; — Who hath not heard it spoken. 
 How deep you were within the books of God ? 
 To us, the speaker in his parliament; 
 To us, the imagin'd voice of God himself; 
 The very opener, and intelligencer. 
 Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven. 
 And our dull workings; O, who shall believe. 
 But you misuse the reverence of your place ; 
 Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, 
 Asa false favourite doth his prince's name. 
 In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken up. 
 Under the counterfeited zeal oi God, 
 The subjects of his substitute, my father ; 
 And, both against the peace of heaven and bim. 
 
 i 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 Wave here up-swarm'd (hem. 
 
 Arch. Good my lurd of Lancaster, 
 
 I am not here against yn'ir father's [jeace : 
 IJiit, as I told my lord of Westmoreland, 
 The time misoider'd doth, in common sense, 
 Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form, 
 To lioid onr safety up I sent your grace 
 'I'he parcels and particulars ol'our grief; [court. 
 The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the 
 VVhereon this Hydra son of war is born : 
 Whose dangerous eyes may well be rharm'd asleep. 
 With grant of our most just and right desires : 
 And true obedience, of this madness cur'd ; 
 Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 
 
 Motvb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes 
 To the last man. 
 
 Hast. And though we here fall down, 
 
 VVe have supplies to second our attempt ; 
 If they miscarry, theirs shall second them ; 
 And so success of mischief shall be born ; 
 And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, 
 Whiles England shall have generation. 
 
 P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much 
 too shallow. 
 To sound the bottom of the after-times. [ly, 
 
 West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them direct- 
 How tar-forth you do hke their articles? 
 
 P. John. I like them all, and do allow them well : 
 And swear here, by the honour of my blood. 
 My father's purposes have been mistook ; 
 XnA some about him ha\e too lavishly 
 Wrested iiis meaning and authority. — 
 My lord, tliese griefs shall be with speed redress'd ; 
 L'pon my soul they shall. If this may please you, 
 {)ischarge your powers into their several counties. 
 As we will ours : and here, between the armies, 
 Let's drink together friendly, and embrace ; 
 That all tlieireyes may bear those tokens home, 
 Ol'our restored love, and ainily. [dresses. 
 
 Arch. I take your princely word for these re- 
 
 P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word : 
 And (hereupon I drink unto your grace. 
 
 Hast. Go, captain, [to an Officer.) and deliver to 
 the army 
 This news of peace; let them have pay, and part: 
 I know, it will well please them ; Hie tiiee, captain. 
 
 [Exit Officer. 
 
 Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 West. I pledge your grace : And, if you knew 
 what pains 
 I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace, 
 You would drink freely: but my love to you 
 Shall shew itself more openly hereafter. 
 
 Arch. I do not doubt you. 
 
 TVest. I am glad of it. — 
 
 Health to my lord, and gentle consin, Mowbray. 
 
 Moivb. You wish me health in very happy season ; 
 For I am, on the sudden, something ill. 
 
 Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry ; 
 But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
 
 West. Therefore be merry, coz : since sudden 
 sorrow 
 Serves to say thus, — Some good thing comes to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in s\ irit. 
 
 Motvb. So much the worse, if your own rule be 
 true. [Shouts within.) 
 
 P. John. The word of peace is render'd ; Hark, 
 how they shout ! 
 
 Motvb. This had been cheerful, after victory. 
 
 Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; 
 For tiien both parties nobly are subdued. 
 And neither party loser. 
 
 P. John. ' Go, my lord, 
 
 And let our army be discharged too. — 
 
 [Exit Westmoreland. 
 And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains 
 March by rs; that we may peruse the men 
 We should have cop'd withal. 
 
 Arch. Go, good lord Hastings, 
 
 And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march hy. 
 
 [Exit Hastings. 
 I . John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to night 
 together. — 
 
 Re-enter Westmoreland. 
 Now, coii.sin, w herefore stands our army still ? 
 vi-^fi**^' '^'"'^ ieaders, having charge from you to 
 Will not go oft" until they hear you speak. [stand, 
 P. John. 'J'hey know their diities. 
 
 Re-enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already • 
 Like youthlul steers unyok'd, they take their courses 
 Last, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke np, 
 Laeh hurries towards his home, and sporting-place! 
 
 West. Good tidings, ray lord Hastings; lor the 
 whicli 
 
 I do arrest tiiee, traitor, of high treason : 
 
 \\\A you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbrav, 
 Of capital tl■ea^on I attach you both. 
 
 Muwb. Is this proceeding just and honourable? 
 
 West. Is your asseUibly so? 
 
 Arch. Wi'll you thus break your faith ? 
 
 P. John. I pawn'd thee none ; 
 
 I promis d you redress of these same grievances, 
 W hereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour. 
 I will perform with a m^st christian care. 
 But, for you, rebels,— look to taste the due 
 Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
 Most shallowly did you these arms commence. 
 
 Fondly brought here, and fooli.shly sent hence! 
 
 Strike up our drums, pur-^ue the scalter'd stray • 
 Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to day.-^ 
 Some guard these traitors to the block of death ; 
 Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene \\l.^ Another Part of the Forest. 
 
 A larums : Excursions. Enter FAiiSTAFF and 
 COLEVILE. meeliny. 
 
 Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition 
 are you; and of what place, I pray? 
 
 Cole. I am a knigiit, sir; and my name is — Cole- 
 vilf of the dale. 
 
 Fal. \\\'\\ then, Colevile is your name ; a knight 
 is your degree; and your place, the dale : Colevile 
 shall still be yuur name; a traitor your degree ; and 
 the dungeon your place, — a place deep enough ; so 
 shall you still be Colevile of the dale. 
 
 Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff? 
 
 Fal, As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. 
 Do ye yield, .sir ? or shall I sweat for you ? If 1 do 
 sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep 
 for thy death : therefore rouse up fear and trembling, 
 and do observance to my mercy. 
 
 Cole. 1 think, you are sir John FalstaflT; and, io 
 that tlionglit, yield ine. 
 
 Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this 
 belly of mine ; and not a tongue of them all speaks 
 any other word but my name. An I had but a belly 
 ol any indill'erency, 1 were simply the most active 
 fellow in Europe : My womb, my womb undoes me 
 Here comes our general. 
 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmorelanb, 
 and others. 
 
 P. John. The heat is past, follow no further 
 now . 
 ■ Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. — 
 
 [Exit West. 
 Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? 
 W^hen every thing is ended, then you come : 
 These tardy tricks of yours will, on my hie. 
 One time or other break some gallows' back. 
 
 Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be 
 thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and checK was 
 the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, 
 an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and old 
 motion, the eipedition of thoight? I ha\e specde/i 
 
362 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act TV. 
 
 hitl)or witli the very pxtreniest inch of possibility ; 
 1 hnv^ foundered nine-score Hnd odd posts and here, 
 travel-tainted as I am, h;>ve, in my pure and iinina- 
 culctte valour, tnken sir John Colevile of the dale, a 
 most furious knight, and valorous enemy : But wiiat 
 of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I tnayjiistly 
 
 say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, 1 
 
 came, saw, and overcame. [deservinii;. 
 
 P. John. Ft was more of his courtesy than your 
 
 Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield 
 him : and I beseech your grace, let it be booked 
 with the rest ol' this day's deeds; or, by the lord, 
 I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine 
 own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my 
 foot : To the which course if I be enforced, if you 
 do not all she.v like gilt two-pences to me ; and I, in 
 the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the 
 full moon doth the cinders of the element, which 
 shew like pins' heads to her; believe not the word 
 of the noble : Theret()re let me have right, and let 
 Jesert mount. 
 
 P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. 
 
 Fal. Let it shine then. 
 
 P. John. 'I'hiue's too thick to shine. 
 
 Fal. Let it dd something, my good lord, that may 
 do me good, and call it what you will. 
 
 P. John. Is thy name Colevile i 
 
 Cole. It is, my lord. 
 
 P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. 
 
 Fal. And a famous true subject took him. 
 
 Cole. I aui, my lord, but as my betters are. 
 That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me. 
 Yon should have won them dearer than you have. 
 
 Fal. I know ncit how they sold themselves : but 
 tliou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away, and I 
 thank thee for thee. 
 
 Re enter Westmoreland. 
 
 P. John. Now, have you left pursuit? 
 
 {Vent. Retreat is made, ami execution stay'd. 
 
 P. John. Send Colevde, with his confederates. 
 To York, to present execution : — 
 IJlrint. lead liim hence ; and see you guard him sure. 
 [Exeunt some with Colevile. 
 And now despatch we toward the court, my lords; 
 t hear, t!ie king my father is sore sick: 
 Our news shall go before lis to his majesty, — 
 Wliich, cousin, you shall bear, — to comfort him; 
 And we with sober speed vvill follow you. - 
 
 Fal. My hu-d, I beseech yon, give me leave to go 
 through Glostershire : and when you come to court, 
 stand my good lord, 'pray, in your good report. 
 
 P. John. Fare you well, Falstati': I, in my con- 
 dition, 
 Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. \ woiilfl, you liad but the wit ; 'twere better 
 than your dukedom. — Good faith, this same young 
 sober-blooded boy doth not love nie ; nor a man 
 cannot make hiin laugh; — but that's no marvel, 
 he drinks no wine. 'I'here's never any of these 
 demure boys come to any proof : for thin drink 
 doth so over- cool their blood, and making many 
 fish-raeals. that they fall into a kind of male green- 
 sickness . and then, when they marry, they get 
 wenches.; they are generally fools and cowards ; — 
 which some ol' us should be too, but for intlam- 
 matiun. A good siierris sack hath a two-fold opera- 
 tion in it. It ascends me into the brain ; dries me 
 there all the foolish, and dull, and cruiiy vapours, 
 which environ it : makes it apprehensive, quick, 
 lorgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; 
 which deliver'd o'er to liie voice, (the tongue,) 
 whicli is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The 
 second |;ropeity of your excellent sherris is,— the 
 wariniiin <i| the blood; which, befoie cold and 
 settled, l,tt tiie liver wliite and pale, which is the 
 badge of pusillanimity and cowardice : but tie 
 sherns warm- it, and makes it course from the in- 
 wards to ti^e piirts extreme. It illiimineth the face ; 
 •arh-Ch, as a beacon, -i\es warning to all the rest of 
 
 this little kingdom, man, to arm : and then the vital 
 commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster me ail 
 to their captain, the heart : who, great, and puli'ed 
 up with this retinue, doth anv deed of courage ; 
 and this valour comes of sherris : So that skill in 
 the weapon is nothing without sack ; for that .set.'J 
 it a- work: and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept 
 by a devil ; till sack commences it, and sets it in 
 act and use. Hereof comes it that prince Harrj 
 is valiant; for the cold blood tie did naturally in- 
 herit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril and bare 
 land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent 
 endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fer- 
 tile sherris; that he is become very hot, and \aliaiit. 
 \i I had a thousand son.^, the first human principle 
 I would teach them, should be, — to forswear thin 
 potations, and addict themselves to sack. 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 How now, Bardolph? 
 
 Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. 
 
 Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostersliire : and 
 there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire : 
 I have him already tempering between my finger 
 and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. 
 Come away, [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Westminster. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince Humphrey, 
 Warwick, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give suc- 
 cessful end 
 To this debate, that bleedeth at our doors. 
 We will our youth lead on to higher fields. 
 And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
 Our navy is address'd, our power collected, 
 Our substitutes in absence well invested, 
 And every ttiing lies level to our wish : 
 Only, we want a little personal strength; 
 And pause us, till these rebels, not afoot. 
 Come underneath the yoke of government. 
 
 War. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty 
 Siiatl soon enjoy. 
 
 K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster, 
 
 Where is the prince your brother ? 
 
 P Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord, 
 at Windsor. 
 
 K. Hen. And how accompanied '? 
 
 /•*. Humph. 1 do not know, my lord. 
 
 K. Hen. Is not his brother, 'rhoinas of Clareiite. 
 with him ? (heie. 
 
 P. Humph. No, my good lord ; he is in jjiesenct' 
 
 Cla. Wiiat would my lord and father' 
 
 K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas ol 
 Clarence. [brother? 
 
 How chance, thou art not with the prince thy 
 He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas : 
 Thou hast a better place in his affection, 
 'J'han all your brothers : cherish it, my boy ; 
 And noble offices thou may'st effect 
 Of mediation, after I am dead. 
 Between his greatness and thy other brethren ; — 
 Therefore, omit him not ; Jblunt not his love : 
 Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, 
 By seeming cold, or careless of his will. 
 For he is gracious, if he be observ'd ; 
 He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
 Open as day for melting charity : 
 \ et notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint ; 
 As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
 As Haws congealed in the spring of day. 
 His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd : 
 Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
 VVhen you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth : 
 But being moody, give him line and scope ; 
 J'ill that his passions, like a whale on ground. 
 Confound themselves with working. Learu IhJE^ 
 
 Thomas, 
 And thou shall prove a shelter to i\\y friends ; 
 A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers io ■ 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 363 
 
 That the unite J vessel of their blood. 
 Mingled \vii,n venom of suggestion, 
 As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,) 
 Shall never leak, though 1 do work as stronjj 
 As aconituni, or rash gunpowder. 
 
 CIn. I shall observe him with all care and love. 
 
 K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, 
 Thomas ? 
 
 Cla. He is not there to-day ; he dines in London. 
 
 K. Hkh. And how accompanied ? canst thou tell 
 that ? [lowers. 
 
 Cla. With Poins, and otiier his continual (bl- 
 
 K, Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; 
 And he, the noble image of my youth. 
 Is overspread with them : Therefore my grief 
 Stretches itself beyond the hour of death; 
 The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, 
 lu icjrms imaginary, the unguidtd days. 
 And rotten times, that you shall look upon 
 When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
 For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, 
 When rage and hot blood are his counsellors. 
 When means and lavish manners meet togetlier, 
 O, with what wings shall his affectii>ns fly 
 Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay ! 
 
 War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him 
 The prince but studies his companions, [quite : 
 
 Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the lan- 
 guage, 
 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word 
 Be look'd upon, and learn'd : which once attain'd. 
 Your highness knows, comes to no f irther use, 
 But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terras. 
 The prince will, in the perfectness of time. 
 Cast otl' his (bllowers : and their memory 
 Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
 Uy which his grace must mete the lives of others ; 
 Turning past evils to advantages. [her comb 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave 
 In tlie dead carrion. — Who's here? Westmoreland? 
 
 Enter Westmoreland. 
 
 West. Health to my sovereign ! and new happiness 
 .\dded to that, that I am tn deliver ! 
 Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand : 
 Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, 
 Ate briiiiglit to the correction of your law ; 
 There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd. 
 But peace puts forth her olive every where. 
 The manner how this action hath been borne, 
 Here at ii<ore leisure may your highness read ; 
 With every course, in his particular. [bird, 
 
 K. Hen. U Westmoreland, thou art a summer 
 Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
 The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news. 
 
 Enter Harcourt 
 
 Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ; 
 And, when they stand against you, may they fall 
 As those that I am come to tell you of I 
 'I'he earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardoljih, 
 With a great power of English, and of Scots, 
 Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: 
 'i lie manner and true order of the fight, 
 This packet, please it you, contains at large. 
 
 K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news 
 make me sick ? 
 Will fortune never come with both hands full, 
 But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? 
 She either gives a stomach, and no food, — 
 Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast, 
 .\nd takes away the stomach, — such are the rich 
 Th tt haie abundance, and enjoy it not. 
 I should rejoice now at this happy news ; 
 And udw my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :- 
 O uie ! ccime near me, now I am much ill. (Swoons.) 
 
 P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty ! 
 
 Cla. O my royal father ! 
 
 West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yoi rself, look 
 up; 
 
 War. Be patient, princes ; you do know, these Cte 
 Are with his highness very ordinary. 
 Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be we 
 
 Cla. No, no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs: 
 The incessant care and labour of his mind 
 Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it in, 
 So thin, thai life looks through, and will break out. 
 P. Humpfi,. The people fear me ; for they da 
 observe 
 Unfather'd heir.s, and loathly birds of nature: 
 'I'he seasons change their manners, as the year 
 Had Ibund some months asleep, and leap'd them 
 over. 
 Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between : 
 And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, 
 Say, it did so, a little time before 
 That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. 
 War. Speak lower princes, for the king recovers. 
 P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end 
 K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me 
 hence 
 Into some other chamber: softly, pray. 
 
 ( They convey the King into an inner part oj 
 the room, and place him ona bed.) 
 Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; 
 Unless some dull and favourable hand 
 Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
 War. Call for music in the other room. 
 K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 
 Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. 
 War. Less noise, less noise. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence ? 
 
 Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
 
 P. Hen. How now I rain within doors, and none 
 How doth the king ? [abroad ! 
 
 P. Humph. Exceedingly ill. 
 
 P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet ? 
 
 Tell it him. 
 
 P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it. 
 
 P. Hen. If he be sick 
 With joy, he will recover without physic. 
 
 War. Not so nr.ich noise, my lords: — sweet 
 prince, speak low ; 
 The king yonr father is dispos'd to sleep. 
 
 Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room, [us? 
 
 War. Wiirt please your grace to go along with 
 
 P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the 
 king. [Exeunt all but P. Henry 
 
 Why doth the crown lie there u|)on his pillow, \ 
 Being so troublesome a bedfellow .'* 
 O polish'd perturbation ! golden care ! 
 That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide 
 To many a watchful night ! — sleep with it now ! 
 Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet. 
 As. he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound. 
 Snores out the watch of night. O maje.sty ! 
 When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
 Like a rich armour, worn in heat of day. 
 That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath 
 There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : 
 Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
 Perforce must move. — My gracious lord ! my 
 
 father! 
 This sleep is sound indeed ; this i.s a sleep, 
 'I'hat from this golden rigol hath divorc'd 
 So many English kings. Thy due, from me, 
 Is tears, and heavy sorrows of tlie blood; 
 Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
 Shall, O dear father, pay thee, plenteously : 
 My due, from thee, is this imperial crovvn; 
 Which, as immediate from thy place and blood. 
 Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — 
 
 (Putting it on his head.] 
 Which heaven shall guard : And put the world's 
 
 whole strength 
 Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
 This lineal honour from me : Ttiis from thee 
 Will 1 to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [Exit. 
 
564 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act TV. 
 
 K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence! 
 Re-enter Warwick, and the rest. 
 ,Cla. Doth the king call ? 
 
 War. What would your majesty ? How tares your 
 grace ? I'of'i'* • 
 
 K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my 
 
 Cla. We lelt the prince my brother here, my 
 Who undertook, to sit and watch by you. [liege, 
 
 K. Hen. The prince of Wales i Where is he : 
 He is not here. [let me see hiin : 
 
 War. This door is open ; he is gone this way. 
 
 P. Humph. He came not through the chamber 
 where we stay'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from 
 my pillow? ^"f^^.' 
 
 War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it 
 
 K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence :— go, 
 seek him out. 
 Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose 
 
 My sleep my death ':' 
 
 Find him, my lord of Warwick ; chide him hither. 
 
 VExit Warwick. 
 This part of his conjoins with my disease. 
 And helps to end me.— St-e, sons, what things you 
 How quickly nature falls into revolt, fare ! 
 
 When gold becomes her object ! 
 For this, the foolish over-careliil fathers 
 Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains 
 Their bones wth industry : . [with care, 
 
 For this, they have engrossed and pil'd up 
 Tiie cankei'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
 For this, thev have been thoughtful to invest 
 Their sons with arts, and martial exercises, 
 When, like the bee, tolling from every flower 
 The virtuous sweets ; 
 
 Our thighs pack'd with wax, our nioutlis with honey. 
 We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees. 
 Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter t.iste 
 Yield his engiossments to the ending father. — 
 
 Re enter Warwick. 
 Now, where is he tliat will not stay so long 
 Till his friend sickne.ss Imth deterniin'd me? 
 
 War. My lord, I found tiie prince in the next 
 room. 
 Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks; 
 With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow, 
 That tyranny, which never quaffd but blood. 
 Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
 With senile eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
 K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the 
 crown':' 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry. 
 
 Lo, where he conies, — Come hither to me, Harry : — 
 
 Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
 
 {Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Lords, §fc. 
 
 P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. 
 
 K. Hen. Tliy wish was father, Harry, to that 
 I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. [thought; 
 
 Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair. 
 That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours. 
 Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth ! 
 'I'hoii seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. 
 Stay hut a little ; for my cloud of dignity 
 Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 
 That it will quickly drop : my day is dim. 
 Thou hast stol'n tliat, which, after some few hours. 
 Were thine wi(hoi:t oflenco ; and at my death. 
 Thou iiast seai'd up my expectation : 
 Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not. 
 And thou wilt have me die assiir (1 of if. 
 'J'hou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ; 
 Which thou h;(st whetted on thy stony heart. 
 To stab at lialt'an hour of my life. 
 Wiiat! canst tli'iu not forbear me half an hour? 
 Then get thee gone ; and dig my grave thyself; 
 And bid the merry bells ring to tliine ear, 
 1'hfcl thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
 
 Let all the tears, that should bedew my hearse, 
 
 iJe drops of balm, to sanctify thy head : 
 
 Only compound me with forgotten dust ; 
 
 Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms. 
 
 Fluck down my officers, break my decrees; 
 
 For now a time is come to mock at form, 
 
 Harry the filth is crown'd :— Up, vanity ! 
 
 Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, heuce ' 
 
 And to the English court assemble now, 
 
 From every region, apes of idleness ! 
 
 Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: 
 
 Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance. 
 
 Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit 
 
 The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ? 
 
 Be happy, he will trouble you no more : 
 
 England shall double gild his treble guilt : 
 
 England shall give him office, honour, might : 
 
 For the fifty Harry fromciirb'd license plucks 
 
 The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
 
 Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 
 
 my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows I 
 When that my care could not withold thy riots. 
 What will thou do, when riot is tiiy care ? 
 
 O, thou wilt be a wilderness again. 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! 
 
 P. Hen. O, jiardon me, my liege ! but for my 
 tears, {Kneeling.) 
 
 The moist impediments unto my speech, 
 
 1 had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke. 
 Ere you with grief had sjioke, and I had heard 
 The course of it so far. There is yonr crown; 
 And He, that wears the crown immortally. 
 Long guard it yours I If I affect it more, 
 'I'han as your honour, and as your renown, 
 I>pt me no more from this obedience rise, 
 (Which my mo.st true and inward duteous spirit 
 Teacheth,)this prostrate and exterior bending I 
 Heaven witness with me, when I here came in. 
 And found no course of breath within your majesty 
 How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, 
 
 O, let me in my present wildness die ; 
 
 And never live to show the incredulous world 
 
 The noble change that I have purposed ! 
 
 Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
 
 (And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
 
 1 spake unto the crown, as having sense, 
 
 .\nd thus upbraided it : The cure on thee dependini). 
 
 Hath fed upon the body of my father ; 
 
 Therefore, thou, best of gold, art ivorst of gold. 
 
 Other, less fine in carat, is more precious. 
 
 Preserving life in med' cine potable : 
 
 But thou, most fine, tnost honoured, most renoivn'd, 
 
 Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege. 
 
 .Accusing it, I put it on my jiead ; 
 
 To try with it, — as with an enemy. 
 
 That had before my face murder'd my father, — 
 
 'J'he quarrel of a true inheritor. 
 
 But if it did infect my blood with joy. 
 
 Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ; 
 
 If any rebel or vam spirit of niine 
 
 Did, with the least affection of a welcome. 
 
 Give entertainment to the.might of it. 
 
 Let God for ever keep it from my head ! 
 
 And make nie as the poorest vassal is, 
 
 Tliat doth with awe and terror kneel to it! 
 
 K. Hen. O, my son ! 
 Heaven put it in fhy mind, to take it hence, 
 That thou might'st win the more thy father's love. 
 Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. 
 Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; 
 And hear, I think, the very latest coun.sel. 
 That ever I sliall breathe. Heaven knows, my son. 
 By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
 I met this crown ; and I myself know well. 
 How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
 To tiiee it shall descend with better quiet, 
 Better opinion, better confirmation ; 
 For all the soil of the achievement goes 
 With me into the earth. It seein'd in mo, 
 But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand ; 
 
Act V. Scene 2. 
 
 , KING HENRY IV. 
 
 365 
 
 And 1 had many living, to iiphraid 
 
 Mv gain of it by tlieir assistanoes ; 
 
 ^Vhicii daily grew to quarrel, and to blondslird, 
 
 Wounding supposed peace : all these hold tears, 
 
 Tliou see'st, with peril I ha\e answered : 
 
 For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
 
 Acting th.it argument ; and now my death 
 
 Chan^jes the mode: for what in me was purchas'd. 
 
 Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; 
 
 S ) thou the garland wear'st successively. 
 
 Vet, tliough thou stand'st more sure than I co'ild do, 
 
 'J'hiiu art not firm enough, since griefs are green ; 
 
 And all thy friends, which thou must make thy 
 
 friends. 
 Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; 
 Uy whose fell working I was first advanc'd. 
 And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
 To be again displac'd : which to avoid, 
 1 cut them off; and had a purpose now 
 To lead out many to the Holy Land ; 
 Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
 Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
 Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
 With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne out, 
 May waste the memory of the former days. 
 More woidd I, but my lungs are wasted so, 
 That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
 How I came by the crown, O God, forgive ! 
 And grand it may with thee in true peace live! 
 
 P. Hen. My gracious liege, 
 You won it, wore it, keep it, gave it me ; 
 Then plain, and right, must my possession be : 
 Which I, with more than with a common pain, 
 'Gainst all the word will rightfully maintain. 
 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Warwick, 
 Lords, and others. 
 
 K, Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of 
 Lancaster. 
 
 P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my 
 royal father ! [son John ; 
 
 K. Hen. Thou brin";'st me happiness, and peace. 
 But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 
 From this bare wither'd trunk : upon thy sight. 
 My worldly business makes a period. — 
 Where is my lord of Warwick ? 
 
 P. Hen. My lord of Warwick I 
 
 K. Hen, Doth any name |)aiticular belong 
 Unto the lodging wiiere I fust did swoon V 
 
 War. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
 
 K. Hen. Laud be to God ! — even there my life 
 must end. 
 It hath been prophesied to me many years, 
 I should not die but in Jerusalem ; 
 Which vainly I suppos'd, the Holy Land : — 
 But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie ; 
 In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene 1. — Glostershire. A Hall in Shallotu's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph and Page. 
 
 Shal. By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away 
 t .-night.— What, Davy,! say! 
 
 Fal. You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow. 
 
 Shal. I will not excuse you ; you shall not be 
 excus'd ; excuses shall not be admitted; there is 
 )o excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused. — 
 Why, Davy' 
 
 Enter Davy. 
 
 J)/rvy. Here, sir. 
 
 Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,— let me see, Davy; 
 let. me see: — yea, marry, William cook, bid hmi 
 come hither. — Sir John, you shall not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Marry, sir, ibns ; — those precepts cannot 
 be served ; and, again, sir, — Shall we sow the 
 head land with wheat? 
 
 Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William 
 cook ; — Are there no young' pigeons '! 
 
 Davy. Yes, sir. — Here is now the smith's note 
 for slmeiiig, and plough-irons. 
 
 Shal. Lft it be cast, and paid: — sir John, you 
 shall not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must 
 needs be had: — And, sir, do you mean to stfp any 
 of William's wages, about the sack he lost the other 
 day at Hinckley fair? 
 
 Shal. He shall answer it: — Some pigeons Davy; 
 a couple of short-legged hens; a j unt of mutton; 
 and any pretty little tiny kickshaw.'*, ti-ll William 
 cook. 
 
 Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? 
 
 Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well ; A friend 
 i'the court is better than a penny in purse. Use his 
 men well, Davy : for they are arrant knaves, and 
 will backbite. 
 
 Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, sir ; 
 for they have marvellous foul linen. [Davy. 
 
 Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, 
 
 Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William 
 Visor of Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill. 
 
 Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against 
 that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my 
 knowledge. 
 
 Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave, 
 sir: but yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should 
 have some countenance at his friend's request. An 
 honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when 
 a knave is not. I have served your worship truly, 
 sir, these eight years ; and if I cannot once or twice 
 in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, 
 I have but a very little credit with your wi.i>hip. 
 The knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I 
 beseech your worship, let him be countenanced. 
 
 Slial. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wrong. 
 Look about, Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where are you, 
 sir John? Come, ofT with your boots. — Gi\e me 
 your hand, master Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. I am glad to see your worship. 
 
 Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind master 
 Bardolph: — and welcome, my tall fellow. fTo the 
 Parie.J Come, sir John. [Exit Shalhnt. 
 
 Fal. I'll follow you, good master Robert Shallow, 
 Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt Bardolph 
 and Page.] If I were sawed into quantities, 1 
 should make four dozen of such bearded herniit's- 
 staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, 
 to see the semblable coherence of l>is men's spirits 
 and his: They, by observing him, do bear them- 
 selves like foolish justices ; he, by conversing with 
 them, is turned iuto a justice-like ser\iiig-man : 
 their spirits are so married in conjunction with the 
 participation of society, that they flock together in 
 consent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suit 
 to master Shallow, I would humour his men, with 
 the imputation of being near their master: if to his 
 men, I would curry with master Shallow, that no 
 man could better command his servants. It is cer- 
 tain, that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, 
 is caught, as men take diseases, one of another : 
 therefore, let men take heed of their company. I 
 will devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to 
 keep prince Harry in continual laughter, the wear- 
 ing-out of six fashions, (which is four terms, or two 
 actions,) and he shall laugh without intervallums. 
 O, it is much, that a lie, with a slight oath, and a 
 jest, with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that 
 never had the ache in his shoulders ! O, you shall 
 see him langh, till his face be hke a wet cloak ill 
 laid up. 
 
 Shal. [Within.) Sir John! 
 
 Fal. I come, master Shallow; I come, master 
 Shallow. [Exit Fahtaff. 
 
 Scene II. — Westminster. A room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Warwick and the lord Chirf Justice 
 
 War. How now, my lord chief justice ? whither 
 away? 
 
36G 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Cn. Just. How doth (he king ? [ended. 
 
 Vfar. Exceeding well; his cares are how all 
 
 Ch. Just. I ho[je, ncit dead. 
 
 War. lie's vvalk'd the way of nature ; 
 
 And, to (nir purposes, he lives no more. Lh'"'- 
 
 Ch. Just. I 'vould, his majesty had call'd me with 
 The service that I truly did his life, 
 Hath left me open to all injuries. [not. 
 
 War. Indeed, I think, the young king loves you 
 
 Ch. ^usi. I know, he doth not; and do arm niy- 
 To welcome the condition of the time ; [sell. 
 
 Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
 Than I have drawn it in my phantasy. 
 
 EnterPrince John, Prince Humphrey, Clarence, 
 Westmoreland, and others. 
 
 War. Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry : 
 O, that the living Harry had the temper 
 Of him. the worst of these tliree gentlemen! 
 How many nobles then should hold their places, 
 That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort '. 
 
 Ck. Just. Alas ! I fear, all will be overturn'd. 
 
 P. John. Good morrow, cousin VVarwirk. 
 
 P. Humph. Cla. Good morrow, cousin. 
 
 P. John. We meet like men that had forgot to 
 speak. 
 
 War. We do remember; but our argument 
 Is all too heavy to admit much talk. 
 
 P. John. Well, peace be with him, that hath 
 made us heavy ! 
 
 Ch. .hist. Peace be witti us, lest we, be heavier ! 
 
 P. Humph. O, good my lord, j'ou have lost a 
 friend, indeed : 
 Anvl I dare swear, you borrow not that face 
 Of seeming sorrow ; it is, sure, your own. 
 
 P. John. Though no man be assur'd what grace 
 Vou stand in coldest expectation : (to tind, 
 
 I am the sorrier ; 'would, 'twere otherwise. 
 
 Cla. Well, you must now speak sir John Falstaff 
 fair ; 
 Which swims against your stream of quality. 
 
 Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in 
 honour. 
 Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; 
 And never shall you see, that I will beg 
 A ragged and forestaWd remission. — 
 If truth and upright innocency fail me, 
 I'll to the king my master, that is dead. 
 And tell me who hath sent me after him. 
 
 War. Here comes the prince. 
 
 Enter King Henry V. 
 
 Ch. Just. Good morrow ; and heaven save your 
 
 majesty ! 
 King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty. 
 Sits not so easy on me as you think. — 
 Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear; 
 This is the English, not the Turkish court ; 
 Not Amurath an Amiirath succeeds. 
 But Harry Harry : Yet be sad, good brothers. 
 For, to speak truth, it very well becomes you ; 
 Sorrow so royally in you appears. 
 That I will deeply put the fashion on, 
 And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad 
 Bnt entertain no more of it, good brothers. 
 Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
 For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd. 
 Ml be your father and your brother too; 
 Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. 
 Yet weep, that Harry's dead ; and so will I : 
 But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears. 
 By number, into hours of happiness. 
 
 P.John, ^c.We hope no other irom your majesty. 
 King, 'k'ou all look strangely on me; — and you 
 most; [To the Chief Justice.) 
 
 You are, i think, assur'd I love you not. 
 
 Ch.Just. lain assur'd. if I be measur'd rightly, 
 Y'Hii majesty hath no just cause to hate oie. 
 King. No ! 
 
 How might a prince of my great hopes forpet 
 So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
 What ! rate, rebuke, and rouj;lilv send to prison 
 The immediate heir of England I Was this easy? 
 May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? 
 
 Ch. Just. I then did use the person of yonr 
 lather ; 
 The image of his power lay then in me : 
 And, in the ad ministration of his law, 
 Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth. 
 Your highness pleased to Ibrget my place. 
 The majesty and power of law and justice. 
 The image of the king, whom I presented, 
 And struck me in my very seat ol judgment; 
 Whereon, as an otl'ender to your lather, 
 I gave tiold way to my a;ithority. 
 And did conmiit you. If the deed were ill. 
 Be you contented, wearing now the garland. 
 To have a son set your decrees at nought ; 
 To pluck down justice from your awful bench ; 
 To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
 That guards the peace and safety of your person: 
 Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal image. 
 And mock your workings in a second body. 
 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; 
 Be now the father, and propose a son : 
 Hear your own dignity so much profan'd, 
 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted. 
 Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ; 
 And then inia^int- me taking jour part. 
 And, in your power, solt silencing your son : 
 Alter this cold considerance, sentence me; 
 And, as you are a king, speak in your state. 
 What 1 have dime, th.il misbecame my place 
 My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
 
 King. You are right, justice, and you weijjh this 
 well ; 
 Therefore still bear the balance, and t\ie sword : 
 And I do wish yonr iioiidurs may increase. 
 Till you do live to see a son oi mine 
 Otfeiid you and obey you, as 1 did. 
 So shall 1 live to speak my father's words ; - 
 Hnppij am I, that have a man so hold. 
 That dares do justice on my proper son : 
 And not less happy, having such a son. 
 That u ould deliver up his greatness so 
 Into the hands of justice. — Vou did commit me : 
 For winch. J do commit into your hand 
 The unstain'd sword that you have us'd to bear; 
 With this remembrance, — that you use the same 
 With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit. 
 As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand ; 
 You shall be as a father to my youth : 
 My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear* 
 And I \vill stoop and humble my intents 
 To your well practi.s'd, wise directions. — 
 Ami, princes all, believe me, I beseech you ;— 
 My father is gone wild into his grave. 
 For in his tomb lie my attections ; 
 And with his spirit sadly 1 survive. 
 To mock the expectation of the world ; 
 To frustrate prophecies ; and to raze out 
 Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
 After my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
 Hath proudly flow'd in vanity, till now : 
 Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea; 
 Where it shall mingle with the state of floods. 
 And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 
 Now call we our high couit of parliament: 
 And let us choose such limbs of' noble counsel. 
 That the great body of our state may go 
 In equal rank with the best goveru'd nation ; 
 That war, or peace, or both at once, may be. 
 As things acquainted and familiar to us; — 
 In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.— 
 
 (To the Lord Chief Juntiee. ) 
 Our coronation done, we will accite, 
 As I before remeniber'd, all our state: 
 And (God consigning to my good intents,) 
 No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause tosaj,— 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY IV. 
 
 8G7 
 
 Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. 
 
 (ExeTtni. 
 ScBNE UL—GlosfersMre. The Garden vf 
 Shallow's HoHse. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Sflallovv, Silence, Bardolph, 
 the Page, and Davy. 
 
 Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard : where, 
 in .in arbour, we will eat a last year's pippin of my 
 OM n grading, with a dish i f carraways, anrl so forth ; 
 — came, cousin Silence; — and then to bed. 
 
 Fal. 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwell- 
 ing, and a rich. 
 
 Shal. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beg- 
 gars all, sir John : — marry, good air. — Spread, 
 Davy ; spread, Davy ; well said, Davy- 
 
 Fal. Ihis Davy serves you for good uses; he is 
 your serving-man, and your husbandman. 
 
 Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good 
 varlt-t, sir John. — By the mass, I have drunk too 
 
 much sack at supper: A good varlet. Now 
 
 sit down, now sit down: — Come, cousin. 
 
 S'tl. Ah, sirrah I quoth a, — we shall [Sinijimj.) 
 
 Do nothing but eat, arid make good cheer. 
 
 And praise heaven for the merry year , 
 
 Whenjiesh is cheap, and feitiales dear. 
 
 And lusty lads roam here and there, 
 So merrily. 
 
 And ever among so merrily. 
 
 Fal. There's a merry heart I — Good master Si- 
 lence, I'll gi\ e you a health for that anon. 
 
 Shal Give master Bardoli)h some wine, Davy. 
 
 Davy. Sweet sir, sit: (seating Bardolph and 
 the Page at another table)] I'll be with you anon : — 
 
 most sweet sir, sit. .Master page, good master 
 
 page, sit : preface ! What you want in meat, we'll 
 have in drink. But you must bear ; The heart's 
 all. [Exit. 
 
 Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph ; — and my 
 little soldier there, be merry. 
 
 Sil. Be merry, be metry, my wife's as all; 
 
 (Singi7ig.) 
 
 For tcomen are shreivs, both short and tall: 
 
 'Tis merry in hall, tvhen beards wag all. 
 And welcome merry shrove-tide. 
 
 Be merry, be merry, &c. 
 
 Fal. I did not think, master Silence had been a 
 man of this mettle. [ere now. 
 
 Sil. Who, 1 ? I have been merry twice and once. 
 
 Re-enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats for you. 
 (Setting them before Bardolah.) 
 
 Shal. Davy,— 
 
 Davy. Your worship? — I'll be with yon straight. 
 { To Bard.) — A cup of wine, sir'? 
 
 Sil. A cup of wine, that brisk and fine. 
 
 And drink unto the leman mine ; (Singing.) 
 And a merry heart lives long- a. 
 
 Fal. Well said, master Silence. 
 
 Sil. And we shall be merry ; — now comes in the 
 sweet of the night. 
 
 Fal. Health and long life to yoo, master Silence. 
 
 Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; 
 
 I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 
 
 Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : If thou 
 wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy 
 heart. — Welcome, ray little tmy thief ;(<o the Page.) 
 and welcome, indeed, too. — I'll drink to master 
 Bardolph, and to all the cavaleroes about London. 
 
 Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die. 
 
 Bard. And I might see you there, Davy, — 
 
 Shal. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together. 
 Ha ! will you not, master Bardolph 'i 
 
 Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle pot. 
 
 S.lial. I thank thee : — The knave will stick by 
 thee, I can assure thee that ; he will not out ; he is 
 true bred. 
 
 Bard. And I'll stick to him, sir. 
 
 S/tat. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: 
 
 be merry. (Knocking heard.) Look who's at door, 
 there: Ho! who knocks? [Exit Davy 
 
 Fal. Why, now you have done me right. 
 
 { To Silctiee, who drinks a bumper ) 
 Sd. Do 7ne right, [Singing] 
 
 And dub me kttight : 
 Samingo. 
 Is't not so ? 
 Fal. 'Tis so. 
 
 Sil. Is't so ? Why, then say, an old man can do 
 son: e what. 
 
 Re enter Davy. 
 
 Davy. An it please your worship, there's one 
 Pistol come from the court with news. 
 Fal. From the court, let him come in. — 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 How now, Pistol. 
 
 Pist. God save you, sir John I 
 
 Fal. What wind blew you hither. Pistol ? 
 
 Pist. Not tjie ill wind, which blows no man to 
 good. — Sweet knight, thou art now one of the 
 greatest men in the realm. 
 
 Sil. By'r lady, I think a' be ; but good man Puff 
 
 Pist. Puft"? [ofBarsoD. 
 
 Puft in thy teeth, most recreant coward base' — 
 Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, 
 And helter-skelter have I rode to thee; 
 And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys. 
 And golden times, and happy news of price. 
 
 Fal. I prythee now, deliver them like a man ot 
 this world. 
 
 Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base ! 
 I speak of Africa, and golden joys. 
 
 Fal. O basp Assyrian knight, vvhat is thy news ? 
 Let king Coi hetua know the truth thereof 
 
 Sel. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.(Sings.) 
 
 Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? 
 And shall good news be baffled ? 
 Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. 
 
 Shal. Honest gentleman, I know notyour-hreed- 
 
 Pist. Why then, lament thereof. [ing. 
 
 Shal. Give me pardon, .sir : — If, sir, you come 
 with news from the court, I take it, there is but 
 two ways ; either to utter them, or to conceal them 
 I am, sir, under the king, in some authority. 
 
 Pist. Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die. 
 
 Shal. Under king Harry. 
 
 Pist. Harry the fourth ? or fifth '? 
 
 Shal. Harry the fourth. 
 
 Pist. A foutra for thine office ! — 
 
 Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; 
 Harry the fifth's the man. I speak the truth: 
 When Pistol lies, do this ; and fig me, like 
 The bragging Spaniard. 
 
 Fal. What ! is the old king dead ? 
 
 Pist. As nail in door : the things I speak are just. 
 
 Fal. Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse. — Master 
 Robert Shallow, choose what ofhce thou wilt in 
 the land, 'tis thine. — Pistol, I will double charge 
 thee with dignities. 
 
 Bard. O joyful day !— I would not take a knight- 
 hood for my fortune. 
 
 Pist. W hat ? I do bring good news ? 
 
 Fal. Carry master Silence to bed. — Master 
 Shallow, my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I 
 am fortune's steward. Get on thy boots; we'll 
 ride all night : — O, sweet Pistol : — Away, Bardolph 
 [Exit Bard.] — Come, Pistol, utter more to me ; and, 
 withal, devise something, to do thyself good. — 
 Boot, boot, master Shallow : I know, the young 
 king is sic k for me. Let us take any man s horses; 
 the laws of England are at my commandment 
 Happy are they which have been my friends: and 
 woe to my lord chief justice. 
 
 Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also 
 Whe7-e is the life that late I led, say they : 
 Why, here it is ; Welcome these pleasant days. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
368 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Scene IV. — London. A Street. 
 
 Rnter Beadles, drayjiny in Hostess QuiCKLY, and 
 Doll Tear sheet. 
 Host. No, Ihou arrant knave ; I would I might 
 die, that I might have thee hanged : thou hast drawn 
 my shoulder out of joint. 
 
 I Bead. The constables have delivered her over 
 to me ; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, 
 I warrant her: There hath beena mau or two lately- 
 killed about her. 
 
 Doll. Nuthonk, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; 
 I'll tell thee wiiat, thou damned tripe-visaged ras- 
 cal ; an the child I now go with, do miscarry, thou 
 hadst better thou liadst struck thy mother, thou 
 paper-faced-villain. 
 
 Host. the Lord, that sir John were come! he 
 would make this a bloody day to somebody. But 
 I prav God the fruit of her wouib miscarry ! 
 
 1 iiead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of 
 cushions again ; you have but eleven now. Come, 
 I charge you both go with me ; for the man is dead, 
 that vou and Pistol beat among you. 
 
 Doll. Ill tell thee what, thou thin man in a 
 censer! I will have you as soundly swinged for 
 this, you blue-bottle rogue I you fdthy famished 
 correctioner ; if yon be not swinged, 111 Ibrsvvear 
 halfkirtles. 
 
 1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. 
 
 Host. O, that right should thus overcome might ! 
 Well ; of sutierance comes ease. [justice. 
 
 Doll. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a 
 
 Host. Ay ; come, you starv'd blood-hound. 
 
 Doll. Goodman death ! goodman bones ! 
 
 Host. Thou atomy thou ! 
 
 Doll. Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal! 
 
 1 Bead. Very well. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene V. — A public Place near Westminster 
 
 Abbey. 
 
 Enter two Grooms, streivitig rushes. 
 
 1 Groom. More rushes, more rushes. 
 
 2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice. 
 
 1 Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they come 
 txom the coronation : Despatch, despatch. 
 
 [Exeunt Grooms- 
 Enter Falst.\ff, Shallow, Pistol, Baudolpu, 
 and the Page. 
 
 Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow ; 
 I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon 
 him, as 'a comes by ; and do but mark the counte- 
 nance that he will give me. 
 
 Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight. 
 
 Fal. Come here. Pistol ; stand behind me. — O, 
 if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would 
 have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of 
 you. [To Shallow.) But 'tis no matter ; this poor 
 show doth better : this doth infer the zeal I had to 
 see him. 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. It shews my earnestness of affection. 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. My devotion. 
 
 Fal. It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 
 Fal. As it were, to ride day and night ; and not to 
 deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience 
 
 Shal. It is most certain. [to shift me. 
 
 Fal. But to stand stain'd with travel, and sweat- 
 ing with desire to see him ; thinking of nothing else ; 
 putting all atiairselse in oblivion ; as if there were 
 nothing else to be done, hut to see him 
 
 Pist. 'Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nihil est : 
 'Tis all in every part. 
 
 Shal. 'Tis so, indeed. 
 
 Pist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver. 
 And make tliee rage. 
 
 Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, 
 Is in base durance, and contagious prison ; 
 
 Ilaul'd thither 
 
 By most mechanical and dirty hand : — 
 
 Kuuse up revenge from ebon den with feil Alecto' 
 
 snake. 
 For Doll is in ; Pistol speaks nought but truth 
 Fal. I will deliver her. 
 
 {Shouts tvithin, and the trumpets sounds 
 Pist. There roar'd the sea, and trumpetciangot 
 sounds. 
 
 Enter the King and his Train, the Chief Justice 
 among them. 
 
 Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal I my royal 
 Hal ! 
 
 Pist. The iieavens thee guard and keep, most 
 royal imp of fame ! 
 
 Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy ! 
 King. My lord chief justice, speak to that vain 
 man. I'tis you speak ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Have you your wits? know you what 
 Fal. My king ! my Jove ! I speak to thee, my 
 heart! [prayers; 
 
 King. I know thee not, old man : Fall to thy 
 How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester ! 
 I have long dream'd of such a kind of man. 
 So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane; 
 But, being awake, I do despise my dream. 
 Make less thy body, hence, and more thy grace ; 
 Leave gormandizing; know thy grave doth gape 
 For thee thrice wider than for other men : — 
 Reply not to me with a fool- born jest ; 
 Presume not, that I am the thing I was : 
 For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive 
 That I have tiirn'd away my former self; 
 So will I those that kept me company. 
 When thou dost hear 1 am as I have been. 
 Approach me ; and thou shalt be as thou wast 
 The tutor and the feeder of my riots : 
 Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, — 
 As I have done the rest of my misleaders, — 
 Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
 For competence of life, I will allow you ; 
 That lack of means enforce you not to evil : 
 And, as we hear you do reform yourselves. 
 We will, — according to your strength, and qiiuli 
 ties, — [lord, 
 
 Give you advancement. — Be it your charge, my 
 To see perform'd the tenor of our word. — 
 Set on. [Exeunt King, and his Train. 
 
 Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousitml 
 pound. 
 
 Shal. Ay, marry, sir John ; which I beseech you 
 to let me have hon.e with me. 
 
 Fal. That can hardly be, master Shallow. J'o 
 not you grieve at this; I shall be sent for in private 
 to him : look you, he must seem thus to the world. 
 Fear not your advancement; I will be the man yet, 
 that shall make you great. 
 
 Shal. I cannot perceive how ; nnlessyou give me 
 your doublet, and stutf me out with straw. I beseech 
 you, good sir John, let me have five hundred of my 
 thousand. 
 
 Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word : this 
 
 that you heard, was but a colour. [John. 
 
 Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in, sir 
 
 Fal. Fear no colours ; go with me to dinner. 
 
 Come, lieutenant Pistol ; — come, Bardolph: — I shal 
 
 be sent for soon at night 
 
 Re-enter Prince John, the Chief Justice, 
 Officers, §-c. 
 Ch. Just. Go, carry sir John Falstafftothe Fleet; 
 Take all his company along with him. 
 Fal. My lord, mv lord, — 
 
 Ch. Just. I cannot now speak : 1 will hear you 
 
 Take them away. [soon. 
 
 Pist. Sifortuna me lormenta. spero me coritenta. 
 
 [Exeunt Fal. Shal. Pist. Bard. Page 
 
 and Officers. 
 
 P. John. I like this fair proceeding of the king's 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KING HENRY lY. 
 
 30!) 
 
 He hath iutent, his wonted followers 
 Shall all he very well provided for; 
 But all are hanish'd till their conversations 
 Appear raore wise and modest to the world. 
 
 Ch. Just. And so they are. [lord. 
 
 P. John. 'J'he king hath call'd his parliament, my 
 CLJust. He hath. (expire, 
 
 P. John. 1 will lay odds, — that, ere this year 
 ^Ve bear our civil swords, and native fire, 
 .-\s far as France : I heard a bird so sing-, 
 W'ho.se music, to my thinking, pleas'd the king. 
 Gome, will yon hence? ^Exeunt. 
 
 Epilogue. — Spoken by a Dancer. 
 
 First, my fear; then, my court' sy; last, my 
 speech. My fear is, your displeasure ; my court' sy, 
 viy duty ; and my speech, to bey your pardons. If 
 uoii look for a good speech now, you undo me : for 
 what I havK to say, is of mine own inalc'iny ; and 
 what, indeed, I should say, will, 1 doubt, prove 
 mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so 
 to the venture. — Be it knoivn to you, (as it is very 
 well,) I tons lately here in the end of a displeasing 
 play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise 
 you a belter. I did mean, indeed, topay you with 
 ihis ; which, if like an ill venture, it come unluckily 
 
 home, I break, and you my oentle creditors, lose. 
 Here, I promised you, J would be, and here I com- 
 mit my body to your mercies : bate me some, and 
 I tvill pay you some, and, as most debtors do, 
 promise you infinitely. 
 
 If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, 
 will you command me to use my legs '! and yet 
 that were but light payment, — to dance out of 
 your debt. But a good conscience tvill make any 
 possible satisfaction, and so willl. All the gen- 
 tlewomen here /uive forgiven me ; if the gentlemen 
 will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with 
 the gentlewomen, whichwas never seen before in 
 sucii an assembly. 
 
 One tuord tnore, I beseech you. If you be not 
 too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author 
 tvill continue the story, tvith Sir John in it., and 
 make you merry tvith fair Katharine of France: 
 where, for any thing I know, Fal.stajf shall die 
 of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your 
 hard opinions ; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and 
 this is not the man. My tongue is tveary ; when 
 my legs are too, I tvill bid you good night : and 
 so kneel down before you ; — but, indeed, to prujf 
 for the queen. 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 This play has many scenes cf high dignity, and many of easy merriment. The character of the king is well sup- 
 ported, except in his courlship, wliere lie jas neither the vivacity of Hal, nor the grandeur of Henry. The humour 
 of I'istol is very happily continued: his character has perhaps been tlie model of all the bullies that have yet appeared 
 on the English stage. 
 
 The lines given to the chorus have many admirers; but the truth is, in them a little may be praised, and much 
 must be forgiven; nor tan it be easily discovered, why the intelligence given by the chorus is more necessary in 
 this play, than in many others where it is omitted. The great defect of this play is, the emptiness and narrow ness of 
 the last act, which a very little diligence might have easily avoided. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Brothers to the King. 
 
 KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 OUKE OF GLO.STEII, ) 
 
 DUKE OF BEDFORD, f 
 
 DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the King. 
 
 DUKE OF YORK. Cousin totheKinq. 
 
 EARLS OF SALISBURY, WESTIMORELAND, and 
 
 WARWICK. 
 ARCHBISHOF OF CANTERBURY. 
 BISHOP OF ELY. 
 
 LORD SCROc"'^"^''*^^' \ Conspirators against the 
 
 SIR THOMAS OR RY \ ^'"^■ 
 
 «1R THOMAS ERFl.VGHAM, GOWER, FLUELLEN, 
 
 MACWORRIS, JAMY, Officers in King HenryS 
 
 Army. 
 UaTES^COURT, WILLIAMS, Soldiers in the same. 
 NVM, BARDOLFH, PISTOL, formerly Servants to 
 
 Falstajf', now Soldiers in the same. 
 
 Bov. Seniant to them. 
 
 A Herald 
 
 Chums. 
 
 CHARLES THE SIXTH, King of France. 
 
 LEWIS, the Dauphin. 
 
 DUKE OF BURGUNDY, ORLEANS, and BOURBON. 
 
 The Cunstalile of France. 
 
 RAMCURES and GRANDPREE, French Lords. 
 
 Governor of Harfteiir. 
 
 MONTJOY, a French Herald. 
 
 Ambassadors to the King of England. 
 
 ISABEL. Queen of France. 
 
 KATHARINE. Daughter of Charles and Isabel. 
 ALICE, a Lady attemling on the Princess Katharine. 
 QUICKLY, I'istol's Wife, an Hostess. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Officer, French and English Soldiert, 
 Messengers, and Attendants. 
 
 The Scene, at the beginning of the Play, lies in England; hut afterwards wholly in France. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 O, for amuse of fire, that would ascend 
 The brightest heaven of invention ! 
 A kingdom for a stage, princes to act. 
 And monarchs to behold the swelhng scene ! 
 ThtD should the warlike Harry, like himself. 
 Assume the port of Mars ; and, at his lieels, [fire, 
 lieash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and 
 llrouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all. 
 The flat unraised spirit, that hath dar'd, 
 On this unworth) scaffold, to bring forth 
 So great an object : Can this cockpit hold 
 The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram 
 Within this wooden O, the very casques. 
 That did affright the air at Agincourt ? 
 O, pardon ! since a crooked figure may 
 Attest, in little place, a million ; 
 And let us , ciphers to this great accompt. 
 On your imaginary forces work : 
 Suppose, within the girdle of these walls 
 Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies. 
 Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
 The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder. 
 Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts ; 
 Into a thousand parts divide one man. 
 And make imaginary puissance : 
 Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them 
 Printing their proud hoofs i'the receiving earth : 
 For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings. 
 Carry them here and there : jumping o'er times ; 
 Turning the accomplishment of many years 
 Into an hour-glass : For the which supply. 
 Admit me chorus to this history ; 
 Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray. 
 Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I.- London. An Ante-chamber in the 
 King's Palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop o/ Canterbury, and 
 Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Cant. My lord. I'll tell you,— that self bill is urg'd. 
 Which, in the eleventh year o" the last king's reign 
 Was like, and had indeed r..gainst us pass'd, 
 But that the scanibling and unquiet time 
 
 Did push it out of further question. 
 
 Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist itoow? 
 
 Cant. It must be thought on. If it pass against us, 
 We lose the better half of our possession : 
 For all the temporal lands, w liich men devout 
 By testament have given to the chuicli. 
 Would they strip from us; being valued thus, — 
 As much as would nmintain, to the king's iiononr. 
 Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights ; 
 Six thousand and two hundred good esquires ; 
 And, to relief of lazars, and weak age. 
 Of indigent fiint souls, past corporal toil, 
 A hundred alms-houses, right well supplied; 
 And to the cutfers of the king beside, 
 A thousand pounds by the year: Tiius runs the bill 
 
 Ely. This would drink deep. 
 
 Cant. Twould drink the cup and all. 
 
 Ely. But what prevention ? 
 
 Cant. The king is fidl of grace, and fair regard. 
 
 Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 
 
 Cant. The courses of his youth piomis'd it noL 
 The breath no sooner left his father's body. 
 But that his wildiiess, mortified in him, 
 Seem'd to die too: yea, at that xery mouK'iit, 
 Consideration like an angel came. 
 And whipp'd the ofiVnding Adam out of liiui ; 
 Leavii))? hi.o body as a paradise, 
 'I'o envelop and contain lelestird spirits. 
 Never was such a sudden scholar made : 
 Never came reformation in a flood. 
 With such a heady current, scouring faults; 
 Nor never Hydra headed wilfulness 
 So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
 As in tills king. 
 
 Ely. We are blessed in the change. 
 
 Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity, 
 And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 
 You would desire, the king were made a i)relate : 
 Hear him debate of connuonwealth affairs. 
 Yon would say, — it hath been all-in-all his sludy; 
 List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
 A fearful battle rendered you in music : 
 'I'urn him to any cause of policy. 
 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 
 Familiar as his gaiter: that, when he speaks. 
 The air, a charter'd libertine, is still. 
 And the route wonder lurkethin men's ears. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 371 
 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences 
 
 So that the art and practic part of life 
 
 Must he the mistress to tliis theoric : 
 
 Wliich is a wonder, how his grace should glean it, 
 
 Since his addiction was to courses vain ; 
 
 His coinpauies uiilelter'd, rude, and shallow; 
 
 His hours fill'd up with riots, hauquets, sports; 
 
 And uever noted in him any study. 
 
 Any retirement, any sequestration. 
 
 From open haunts and popularity. 
 
 Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle; 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best. 
 Neighboured by fruit of baser quality : 
 And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation 
 Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt, 
 (irew like the summer-grass, fastest by night. 
 Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 
 
 Cant. It must be so: for miracles are ceas'd ; 
 And therefore we must needs admit the means, 
 ilow things are perfected. 
 
 Ely. But, my good lord, 
 
 How now for mitigation of this bill 
 Urgd by the commons? Doth his majesty 
 hicline to it, or no ? 
 
 Cant. He seems indifferent ; 
 
 Or, rather, swaying more upon our part. 
 Than cherishing the exhibiters against us : 
 For I have made an olFer to his majesty, — 
 Upon our spiritual convocation ; 
 And in regard of causes now in hand, 
 Wiiich I have open'd to his grace at large, 
 As touching France, — to give a greater sum 
 'I'lian ever atone time the clergy yet 
 Did to his predecessors part withal. 
 
 Ell/. How did this otfer seem receiv'd, my lord ? 
 
 C<nit. With good acceptance of his majesty \ 
 Sue, that there was not tune enough to hear 
 (As, I perceiv'd, his grace would tain have done,) 
 Tiie severals, and uniiidden passages. 
 Of /lis iriie titles to some certain dukedoms; 
 And. generally, to the crown and seat of France, 
 Ooiivd Iroui Edu'ard, his great grandfather. 
 
 Ely. What was the impediment that broke this off? 
 
 (Utnt. J'he French aiiibassador, upon that instant, 
 Cruv'd audience : and the hour, 1 tiiink, is come. 
 To give him hearing : Is it four o'clock '! 
 
 Ely. It is. 
 
 Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy ; 
 Which I could, with a ready guess, declare, 
 Uefore the Frenchman speak a word of it. 
 
 Ely. I'll wait upon you ; and 1 long to hear it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene II. — The same. A Room of State in the 
 same. 
 
 Enter King Hevrt, Glostkr, liEDFORD, Exeter, 
 Warwick, Westmoreland, and Attendants. 
 K. Hen. Where is my gracious Lord of Canter- 
 
 Ihu 
 
 ry: 
 
 Kxe. Not liere in presence. 
 
 K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. 
 
 ffest. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege ? 
 
 K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin, we would be re- 
 solv'd. 
 Before we hear hiiu. ol some things of weight, 
 That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. 
 
 Enter the Archbiskup of CiciTEViBi]v.\ and Bishop 
 uj Ely. 
 
 Cant. God, and his aii!4els, guard your sacred 
 And make you long become it I [throne, 
 
 K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 
 
 My learned lord, we pray you to proceed ; 
 And justly and religiously unfold, 
 ^Vhy the law Salique, tliat they 1iave in France, 
 Or should, or should not^ bar us in our claim. 
 And (jod forbi I, my dear and faithful lord, 
 'I'hat yo'i shor'd fashi(Ui, wrest, or bow your reading. 
 Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
 VVitli opening titles iniscreate, wliose right 
 Suits not ill native colour with the truth ; 
 
 For God doth know, how many, now in heatttt 
 
 Shall drop tiieir blood in approbation 
 
 Of what your reverence shall incite us to; 
 
 Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, 
 
 How you awake the sleeping sword of war ; 
 
 We charge you in the name of God, lake heed 
 
 For never two such kingdoms did contend, 
 
 Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops 
 
 Are every one a woe, a sore complaint, 
 
 'Gainst him, whose wrongs give edge unto the 
 
 swords 
 That make such waste in brief mortality. 
 Under thi.s conjuration, speak, my lord : 
 And we will hear, note, and believe in heart, 
 I hat what you speak is in your conscience wash'd 
 As pure as sin with baptism. [you peers. 
 
 Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, — and 
 That owe your lives, your faith, and services, 
 lo this imperial throne; — There is no bar 
 To make against your highness'claim to France, 
 But this, which they produce from Pharamond,— 
 In terram Salicam muUeres ne sttccedant. 
 No woman shall succeed in Salique land : 
 Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze. 
 To be the realm of France, and Pharamond 
 The founder of this law and female bar. 
 Yet their own authors faithfully affirm, 
 That the land Salique lies in Germany, 
 Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe : 
 Where Charles the great, having subdued the 
 
 Saxons, 
 There left behind and settled certain French, 
 Who, holding in disdain the German women 
 For some dishonest manners of their lile, 
 Estabhsh'd there this law, — to wit, no female 
 Should be inheritrix in Salique land ; 
 Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, 
 Is at this day in Germany call'd — Meisen. 
 Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law 
 Was not devised for the realm of France: 
 Nor did the French possess the Salique land 
 Until tour hundred one and twenty years 
 After defunrlion of king Pharamond, 
 Idly suppos'd the founder of this law; 
 Who died within the year cf our redemption 
 Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the Great 
 Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French 
 Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
 Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say. 
 King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, 
 Did, as heir general, being descended 
 Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clofhair, 
 Make claim and title to the crown of France. 
 Hugh Capet also,— that usurp'd the crown 
 Of Chades the Duke of Lorain, sole heir male 
 Of the true line and stock of Charles the great,— 
 To tine his title with some show of truth, 
 (Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,) 
 Convey 'd himself as heir to the lady Lingare, 
 Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son 
 'I'o Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son 
 Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis the tenth. 
 Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
 Could not keep quiet in his c(«iscieuce. 
 Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied 
 That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother. 
 Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, 
 Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Loraio 
 By the which marriage, the line of Charles the great 
 Was re-united to the crown of France. 
 So that, as clear as is the summer'ti sun 
 King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, 
 King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
 To hold in right and title of the female : 
 So do the kings of Fiance unto this day ; 
 Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law. 
 To bar your highness claiming from the female , 
 And rather choose to hide them in a net. 
 Than amply to imbare their crooked titles, 
 Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. 
 
572 
 
 KING HENRY Y. 
 
 Act r. 
 
 R.Hen. May I, w.tli right and conscience, make 
 (his chiiin ? 
 
 Cant. The sin npon my heail, (hiatl sovereign I 
 For in the book of Numbers is it uiit, — 
 When the son dies. let the inheritance 
 Descend unto the daughter, tiraciuus lord, 
 Stand for your own; unwind your bloody Ihig; 
 Look back unto your miyiity ancestors : _ 
 Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire's tomb, 
 From whom you claim ; invoke iiis warlike .spirit. 
 And your great uncle's, Edward the black prince ; 
 Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, 
 IVlaking defeat on the full power of France; 
 Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
 Stood smiling, to behold his lion's vvlielp 
 Forage in blood of French nobility. 
 O noble English, that could entertain 
 With half their forces the full pride of France ; 
 And let another half stand laughing by. 
 All out of work, and cold for action ! 
 
 Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead. 
 And with your puissant arm renew their feats : 
 You are their heir, you sit upon their throne; 
 The blood and courage, that renowned them, 
 Huns in your veins; and my thrice-Duissant liege 
 Is in the very May-morn ot his youtn. 
 Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
 
 Exe. Yourbrother kings and monarchsof the earth 
 Do all expect that yon should rouse yourself. 
 As did the former lions of your blood. 
 
 West. They know, your grace hath cause, and 
 means, and might ; 
 So hath your highness; never king of England 
 Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects ; 
 Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England, 
 And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. 
 
 Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege. 
 With blood, and sword, and fire, to win your right: 
 In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty 
 Will raise your highness such a mighty sum, 
 As never did the clergy at one time 
 Bring in to any of your ancestors. [French ; 
 
 K. Hen. VVe must not only arm in invade the 
 Hut lay down our proportions to defend 
 .Against the Scot, who will make road upon us 
 With all advantages. 
 
 Cant. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, 
 Shall be a wall sufficient to defend 
 Our inland from the pilfering borderers. (only, 
 
 K. Hen. VVe do not mean the coursing snatchers 
 But fear the main intendment of the Scot, 
 Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us : 
 For you shall read, that my jjreat grandfather 
 Never went with his forces into France, 
 But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom 
 Came ponring, like the tide into a breach. 
 With ample and brim fulness of his force ; 
 Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ; 
 Girding, with grievous siege, castles and towns ; 
 That England, being empty of defence, 
 H;ith shook, and trembled at the iil-neighbourhood. 
 
 Cavt. She hath been then more fear'd than 
 harm'd, n>y liege : 
 For hear her but exaMi]>led by herself, — 
 When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
 .And she a mourning \vi(low of her nobles, 
 She hath herself not only well defended. 
 Hilt taken, an 1 impounded as a stray, 
 Tlie king of S;ots; whom she did send to France, 
 To fill king E Iward's fame with prisoner kings ; 
 Anil make yo ir chronicle as rich with praise. 
 As is the oozi and bottom of the sea 
 With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 
 
 West. But t here's a saying, very old and true, — 
 If'thtt yoH will France win. 
 Then wtlh Scotland first begin : 
 For once the engle England being in ]>rey. 
 To her unguanled nest the weasel Scot 
 Ceanes siieaki ig, and so sucks her princely eggs; 
 Playing the mause, )u absem e of the cat, 
 
 To spoil and havock more than she can eat 
 
 Exe., It follows then, the cat must stay at facoM: 
 Yet that is but a curs'd necessity ; 
 Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries. 
 And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. 
 While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, 
 The advised head defends itself at home : 
 For government, though high, and low, and lower. 
 Put into part, doth keep in one concent ; 
 Congruing in a full and natural close. 
 Like music. 
 
 Cant. True : therefore doth heaven divide 
 
 The state of man in divers functions. 
 Setting endeavour in continual motion ; 
 To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, 
 Obedience : for so work the honey bees 
 Creatures, that, by rule in nature, teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 They have a king, and ofKcers of sorts : 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. 
 Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; 
 Which pillage they with merry march briug home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor: 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold ; 
 The civil citizens kneading up the honey; 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
 The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum. 
 Delivering o'er to executors pale 
 The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, — 
 That many things, having fidl reference 
 To one concent, may work contrariously : 
 As many arrows, loosed several ways. 
 Fly to one mark ; 
 
 As tiiany several ways meet id one town ; 
 As many fresh streams run in one self sea; 
 As many lines close in the dial's centre ; 
 So may a thousand actions, once afoot. 
 End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
 Without deleat. Therefore to France, my Iit<ge. 
 Divide your happy England into lour ; 
 Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
 And yon withal shall make all Gallia shake. 
 If we, with thrice that power left at home. 
 Cannot defend our own door from the dog, 
 Let us be worried ; and our nation lose 
 The name of hardiness,, and policy. [Dauphii^ 
 
 Vi. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the 
 [Exit an Attejidnnt. The King ascends his 
 throne. 
 Now are we well resolv'd : and, — ^by God's help ; 
 And yours, the noble sinews of our power, — 
 France being ours, \\e'll bend it to our awe. 
 Or break it all to pieces : Or there we'll sit. 
 Ruling, in large and ample empery. 
 O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms; 
 Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, 
 Tombless, with no rtmemhranre over them: 
 Either our history shall, with full mouth. 
 Speak freely of our acts ; or else our grave. 
 Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth), 
 Not worship'd with a waxen epitaph. — 
 
 Enter A7nbassadors of France. 
 
 Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure 
 Of our fair cousin Dauphin ; for, we hear, 
 Vour greeting is from him, not from the king. 
 
 Ami). May it please your majesty, to give us leave 
 Freely to render what we have in charge ; 
 Or shall we sparingly show you far olF 
 The Dauphin's meaning, and our embassy ? 
 
 K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Cliristian king ; 
 Unto whose grace our passion is as subject, 
 As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons : 
 Therefore, with frank and with uncurbed plainness. 
 Tell us the Dauphin's mind. 
 
 Am >. Thus then, Uk few. 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY V 
 
 373 
 
 Vonr highness, lately sending into ranee, 
 Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
 Of your great predecessor, king Edward tlie third. 
 l» answer of which claim, the prince our master 
 Says, -that you savour too iniich of your youth; 
 And bids you be advis'd. there's noiij^ht in France 
 That can be with a nimble galliard won ; 
 Von cannot revel into dukedoms there : 
 Up therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, 
 This tun of treasure : and, in lieu of this, 
 Desires you, let tlie dukedoms, tliat you claim. 
 Hear no more of you. 'J'his the Dauphin speaks. 
 
 K. Hen. What treasure, uncle? 
 
 Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant 
 with us ; 
 Hi'i present, and yonr pains we thank yon for: 
 Wheu we have niatch'd our rackets to these balls. 
 We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set, 
 •Sliaii strike his father's crown into the hazard : 
 Tell iiiin, he hath made a match with such a wrangler. 
 That all the courts of France \\'d\ he disturb'd 
 With chaces. And we understand him well. 
 How he comes o'er us with our wilder days. 
 Not measuring what use we made of them. 
 We never valued this poor seat of England , 
 And therefore, living hence, did give ourself 
 To barbarous license; As 'tis e\er common. 
 That men are merriest when tliey are from home. 
 I'ut tell the Dauphin, — I will keep my state; 
 He like a king, and show my sail of greatness. 
 When I do rouse me in my t'lrone of France : 
 For that I have laid by my majesty, 
 And plodded like a man for working-days ; 
 But I will rise there with so full a glory, 
 'i'hat I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 
 ' V'ea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. 
 And tell the pleasant prince, — this mock of his 
 Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his .soul 
 '.S;iall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance 
 Tiuit shall fTy with them: for many a tliousand 
 widows [bands ; 
 
 Siiall this his mock mock out of their dear hus- 
 Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down ; 
 And some are yet nngotten, and unborn, 
 'I'hat shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. 
 But this lies sW within the will of God, 
 To whom I d>i appeal ; And in whose name, 
 Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on. 
 To venge me as I may, and to put forth 
 My rightfal hand in a well-hallow'd cause. 
 So, get you hence in peace ; and tell the Dauphin, 
 His jest will savour but of shallow wit, 
 Wheu thousands weep, more than did laugh at it. — 
 Convey them with safe conduct. — Fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Ambassadors. 
 
 Exe. This was a merry message. 
 
 K. Hen. We hope to make the sender blush at it. 
 {Descends from /lis throne.') 
 Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour. 
 That may give furtherance to our expedition: 
 For we have now ao thought in us but France 
 Save those to God, that run before our business 
 Therefore, let our proportions for these wars 
 Be soon collected ; and all things thought upon, 
 That may, with reasonable switness, add 
 More feathers to our wings ; for, God before. 
 We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. 
 Therefore, let every man now task his thought. 
 That this fair action may on foot be brought. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT ir. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Char Now all the youth of England are on fire, 
 And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies ; 
 Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought 
 Keigns solely in the breast of every man : 
 They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse ; 
 
 Following the mirror of all Clnistian kings 
 With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
 For now sits Expectation in the air ; 
 And hides a sword, from hills unto the pnmt, 
 Witli crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, 
 Promis'd to Harry, and his follow^ers. 
 Tiie French, advis'd by good intelligence 
 Of this most dreadful preparation. 
 Shake in their fear; and with pale policy 
 Seek to divert the English purposes. 
 
 England ! — model to thy inward greatness. 
 Like little body \\\W\ a mighty heart, — 
 
 What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do. 
 Were all thy children kind and nutural ! 
 But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out 
 A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills [men, — 
 W^ith treacherous crowns : and three corrupted 
 One, Richard earl of Cambridge; and the second, 
 Henry lord Scroop of Masham ; and the third, 
 Sir Thomas Grey knight of Northumberland, — 
 Ha\ p, for the gilt of France, (O guilt, indeed !) 
 Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France ; 
 And by their liands this gi'ace of kings must die. 
 (If hell and treason hold their promises,) 
 Ere lie take ship for France, and in Southampton. 
 Linger yonr patience on ; and well digest 
 The abuse ot distance, while we force a play 
 The sum is ))aid ; the traitors are agreed ; 
 The king is set from London ; and the scene 
 Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton: 
 There is the playhouse now, there must you sit: 
 And thence to France shall we convey you safe 
 And bring you back, charming the narrow seas 
 To give you gentle pass ; for, if we may. 
 We'll not offend one stomach with our play. 
 But, till the king come forth, and not till then. 
 Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [Exit. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. Eastcheap. 
 
 Enter Nyji aiid B.^rdolpii. 
 
 Bard. Well met, cqrporal Nym. 
 
 Nijm. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. [yet? 
 
 Bard. What, are ancient Pistol aiid you friends 
 
 N'jm. For nry part, I care not: I say little ; but 
 when time shall serve, there shall be snnles; — but 
 thLit shall be as it may. I dare not fight; hut ] 
 will wink, and hold out mine iron: It is a simple 
 one ; but what though ? It will toast clieese ; and 
 it will endure cold as another man's s\\ord will: 
 and there's the humour of it. 
 
 Bard. I will bestow a breakfast, to make you 
 friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to 
 France ; let it be so, go id corporal Nym. 
 
 Nym. 'Faith, I will li\e so long as I may, that's 
 the certain of it ; and when I cannot live any longer, 
 
 1 will do as I may : that is my rest, that is the ren- 
 dezvous of it. 
 
 Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married 
 to Nell Quickly : and, certainly, she did you wrong • 
 for you were troth-plight to her. 
 
 Nym. I cannot tell ; things must be as they may : 
 men may sleep, and they may have their throats 
 about them at that time ; and, some say, knives 
 have edges. It must be as it may: though patience 
 be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be 
 conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. 
 
 Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Bard. Here conies ancient Pistol, and his wife : — 
 good corporal, be patient here. — How now, mine 
 host Pistt.l ? 
 
 Pist. Base tike, call'st thou me — host'? 
 Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the terra : 
 Nor .shall my Nell keep lodgers. 
 
 Quid:. No. by my troth, not long : for we can- 
 not lodge and buard a ddzeii or fourteen gentle- 
 women, that live hone.stly by the prick of their 
 needles, hut it will be thought we keep a bawdy- 
 house straight. [Nym draws his .sword.) O well-a- 
 day. Lady, if he be nut drawn now! O Lord! here's 
 
374 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 corporal Nym's — now shall we have vvifful adultery 
 aud murder committed. Good lieutenant Bardolijh, 
 -good corporal, offer nothing here. 
 
 Nijm. Pish ! 
 
 Pist. Pish ior thee, Iceland dog! thou prick- 
 eared cur of Iceland. 
 
 Qiticlc. Good corporal Nyni, show the valour of 
 a man, and put up thy sword. 
 
 Ni/m. Will you siiog otl"! I woidd have yon solus. 
 [Sheathing his sivord.) 
 
 Pist. Solus, egregious dog ! O viper vile! 
 The solus in thy most marvellous face: 
 The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, 
 And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; 
 And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth ! 
 I do retort the solus in thy bowels : 
 For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up. 
 And Hashing fire will follow. 
 
 Ni/m I am not Barbason : you cannot conjure me. 
 I have an humour to knock you indifferently well : 
 If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you 
 with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms : if you would 
 walk otf, I would pricli your guts a little, in good 
 terms, as I may; and that's the iiutnour of it. 
 
 Pist. () braggard vile, and damned furious wight! 
 The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; 
 Therefore exhale. {Pistol and Nym draw.) 
 
 Bard. IIe,ar me, hear me what I say: — he that 
 strikes tlie first stroke, 1 II run him up to the hilts, 
 as I am a soldier. [Draws.) [abate. 
 
 Pist. ."^n oath of mickle might; and fury shall 
 Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give ; 
 Thy spirits are most tall. 
 
 Ni/m. I will cut thy throat one time or other, in 
 fair terms ; that is the humour of it. 
 
 Pist. Coupe la gorge, that's the word? — I thee 
 defy again. 
 
 hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get ? 
 No ; to the spital go. 
 
 And from the powdering tub of infamy 
 Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, 
 Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse : 
 
 1 have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly 
 For t!ie only she ; and — Pauca, there's enough. 
 
 Unter the Boy. 
 
 Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my 
 master, — and you, hostess; — he is very sick, and 
 would to bed. — Good Bardolph, put thy nose be- 
 tween his sheets, and do the office of a warming- 
 pan: 'faith, he's very ill. 
 
 Bard. Away, you rogue. 
 
 Quick. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pud- 
 ding one of these days: the king has killed his 
 heart.— Good husband, come home presently. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Quickly and Boy. 
 
 Bard. Come, shall I make you two triends"' VV'e 
 must to France together: Why, the devil, .should 
 we keep knives to cut one another's throats . 
 
 Pist. Let floods o'ersvvell, and fiends for food 
 
 howl 
 
 (vou at betting ? 
 
 Nym. You'll pay me tlie eight shilhngs I won of 
 
 Pist. Base is the ^lave that pays. [of it. 
 
 Nym. That now I will have ; that's the humour 
 
 Pist. As manhood shall compound; push home. 
 
 Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first 
 thrust. I'll kill him; by this sword, I will. 
 
 Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their 
 course. 
 
 Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be 
 fr"i«nds ; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with 
 me too. Pr'ythee, put up. lyou at betting ^ 
 
 Nym. I shall have my ^ight shillings, I won of 
 Pist. A noble shait thou have, and present pay ; 
 And liquor likewise will I give to thee, 
 And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood : 
 I'd live by Nym, and Nym shall \\\e by me > — 
 Is not this just ? — for 1 shall sutler be 
 Clnto the camp, and profits will accue. 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my noble J* 
 
 Pist. In cash most justly paid. 
 
 Nym. Well then, that's the humour of it 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Qdickly. 
 
 Quick. As ever you came of women, come in 
 quickly to Sir John : Ah, poor heart ! he is so shaked 
 of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most la- 
 mentable to behold. Sweet men, tome to him. 
 
 Nym. The king hath rnu bad humours on the 
 knight, that's the even of it. 
 
 Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; 
 His heart is Iracied, and corroborate. 
 
 Nym. The king is a good king ; but it must be as 
 it may; he passes some humours, and careers. 
 
 Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, 
 we will live. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — Southampton. A Council-chamber. 
 Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland. 
 Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these 
 
 traitors. 
 Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
 West. How smooth and even they do bear them 
 As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, [selves. 
 
 Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty. 
 
 Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, 
 By interception, which they dream not of. 
 
 Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow. 
 Whom he hath cloy'd and grac'd with princely 
 
 favours, 
 That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
 His sovereign's life to death and treachery! 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop, 
 Cambridge, Grey, Lords, and Attenda?tts 
 
 K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will 
 aboard. [sham, — 
 
 My lord of Cambridge, — and my kind lord of Ma- 
 A nd you, my gentle knight, — give me your thoughts : 
 Think you not, that the powers we bear with us. 
 Will cut their passage ttirough the force of France ; 
 Doing the execution, and the act. 
 For which we have in head assembled them? 
 
 Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his 
 best. [suaded, 
 
 K. Hen. I doubt not that: since we are well per- 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence, 
 'I'hat grows not in a fair consent with ours ; 
 Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
 Success and conquest to attend on us. 
 
 Cain. Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd, 
 Than is your majesty"; there's not, I think, a subject, 
 That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
 Under the sweet shade of your government, [mies. 
 
 Grey. Even those, that were your father's ene 
 Have steep'd their galls in honey ; and do serve you 
 W ith hearts create of duty and of zeal. 
 
 K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thank- 
 And shall forget the office of our hand, [fulness; 
 Sooner than quittance of desert and merit. 
 According to the weight and worthiness. 
 
 Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil 
 -And labour shall refresh itself with hope. 
 To do your grace incessant services. 
 
 K. Hen. We judge no less. — Uncle of Exeter, 
 Enlarge the man conmiitted yesterday, 
 'i'hat rail'd against our person: we consider. 
 It was excess of wine that set bin) on; 
 And, on his more advice, we pardon him. 
 
 Scroop. That's jnercy, but too much security: 
 Let him be punisli'd, sovereign ; lest example 
 Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kmd. 
 
 K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. 
 
 Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. 
 
 Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give 
 After the ta.s-te of much correction, [him life, 
 
 K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me 
 Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch. 
 If little faults, proceeding on distemper. 
 
SCKNE 3. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 375 
 
 Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye. 
 When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and di- 
 gested. 
 Appear before lis ? — We'll yet enlarge that man. 
 Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, — in their 
 
 dear care. 
 And tender preservation of our person, 
 Would have him punish'd. And now to our French 
 Who are the late commissioners? [causes; 
 
 Cam, I one, ray lord ; 
 Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. 
 
 Scroop. So did you rae, my liege. 
 
 Grey. And me, my royal sovereign. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there 
 is yours ; — [knight ; 
 
 There yours, lord Scroop of Masham; — and, sir 
 Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours : — 
 Kead them ; and know, I know your worthiness. — 
 My lord of Westmoreland, — and uncle Exeter, — 
 We will aboard to-night. — Why, how now, gentle- 
 What see you in those papers, that you lose [men ? 
 So much complexion? — look ye, how they change ! 
 Their cheeks are paper. — Why, what read you there, 
 That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood 
 Out of appearance ? 
 
 Cam. I do confess my fault ; 
 
 And do submit me to your highness' mercy. 
 
 CJrey. Scroop. To which we all appeal. 
 
 K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick in us but late, 
 Hy your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd : 
 Vou must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ; 
 For your own reasons turn into your bosoms. 
 As dogs upon their masters, worrying them.^ 
 See you, my princes, and my noble peers. 
 These English monsters ! My lord of Cambridge 
 
 here, — 
 ITou know, how apt our love was, to accord 
 To furnish him with all appertinents 
 Belonging to his iwnour : and this man 
 Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd, 
 And sworn unto the practices of France, 
 To kill us here in Hampton : to the which. 
 This knight, no less for bounty bound to us 
 Than Cambridge is, — hath likewise sworn. — But O ! 
 What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop ; thou cruel, 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! 
 Thou, that did'st bear the key of all my counsels, 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, 
 That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold? 
 Would'st thou have praclis'd on me for thy use ? 
 May it be possible, that foreign hire 
 Could out of thee extract one spark of evil. 
 That might annoy my finger ? 'Tis so strange. 
 That, though the truth of it stands off as gross 
 As black I'rom white, my eye will scarcely see it. 
 Treason, and murder, ever kept together 
 As two yoke-devils sworn toeither's purpose, 
 Working so grossly in a natural cause. 
 That admiration did not whoop at them: 
 But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in 
 Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder ; 
 And whatsoever cunniug fiend it was. 
 That wrought upon thee so preposterously, 
 H'ath got ihe voice in hell i'or excellence : 
 And other devils, that suggest by treasons, 
 Do botch and bungle up damnation 
 With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd 
 From glistering semblances of piety ; 
 But he, that temper'd thee, bade tliee stand up. 
 Gave thee no instance why thou sliould'st do treason. 
 Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
 If that same demon, that hath guli'd thee thus, 
 Slioald with his lion gait walk tlie whole world. 
 He might return to vasty Tartar back, 
 And tell the legions— 1 can never win 
 A soul so easy as that Englishman's. 
 O, how hast thou with jealousy inlected 
 The sweetness of alliance ? Show men dutiful ? 
 Why, 80 didst thou ; Seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst thou : Come they of noble family ? 
 
 Why, so didst thou : Seem they leligioqs? 
 Why, so didst thou : Or are they spare in diet; 
 Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; 
 Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; 
 Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ; 
 Not working with the eye, without the ear. 
 And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither '■* 
 Such, and so finely bolted, didst thou seem: 
 And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot. 
 To mark the full-fraught man, and best endueil. 
 With some suspicion. I will weep for thee ; 
 For this revolt of thine, metliinks, is like 
 Another.fall of man. — Their faults are open. 
 Arrest them to the ansv/er of the law ; — 
 And God acquit them of their practices ! 
 
 Exe, I arrest thee of high treason, by the name ol 
 Richard earl of Cambridge. 
 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
 Henry lord Scroop of Masham. 
 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
 Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland. 
 
 Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd ; 
 And I repent my fault, more than my death ; 
 Which I beseech your highness to forgive, 
 Although my body pay the price of it [d«ce ; 
 
 Cam. For me, — the gold of France did not se- 
 Although I did admit it as a motive. 
 The sooner to effect what I intended : 
 But God he thanked for prevention ; 
 Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice. 
 Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me. 
 
 Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice 
 At the discovery of most dangerous treason. 
 Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself, 
 Prevented from a damned enterprize : 
 My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. 
 K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy ? Hear your 
 sentence. 
 Yon have conspir'd against our royal person, 
 Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, ana from his cof- 
 Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death ; (fers 
 
 Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, 
 His princes and his peers to servitude. 
 His subjects to oppression and contempt. 
 And his whole kingdom unto desolation. 
 Touching our person, seek we no revenge ; 
 But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, 
 Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws 
 We do deliver you. (Jet you therefore hence. 
 Poor miserable wretches, to your death : 
 The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you 
 Patience to endure, and true repentance 
 Of all your dear offences ! — Bear them hence. 
 
 [Exeunt Conspirators, guarded. 
 Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
 Siiall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
 We doubt not of a fair and lucky war ; 
 Since God so graciously hath brought to light 
 This dangerous treason, lurking in our way. 
 To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now, 
 But everv rub is smoothed on our way. 
 Then, forth, dear countrymen ; let us deliver 
 Our puissance into the hand of Glod, 
 Putting it straight in expedition. 
 Cheerly to sea ; the signs of war advance ; 
 No king of England, if not king of France. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — London. Mrs. Quickly's House in 
 
 Eastcheap. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nym, Bardolph, 
 
 and Boy. 
 
 Quick. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me 
 
 bring thee to Staines. 
 
 Pist. No ; for my manly heart doth yearn. — 
 Bardolph, be blitiie ; — Nym, rouse thy vaunting 
 
 veins ; 
 Boy, bristle thy courage up; for FalstaflFhe is dead. 
 And we must yearn therefore. 
 
 Bard. 'Would, I were with him, wheresome'er 
 he is, either in heaven, or in bell! 
 
87G 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 Quick. Nay, sure, he's not in hf 11 , lie's in Ar- 
 thur's bosom,' if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 
 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been 
 any christom child; 'a darted even just between 
 twelve and one, e'en at turning o'the tide : for after 
 I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with 
 (louvers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew 
 there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as 
 a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, 
 sir John ? quoth I : what, man ! be of good cheer. 
 So 'a cried out — God. God, God ! three or four 
 times : now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should 
 not think of God ; I hoped there was no need to 
 trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: So, 'a 
 bade me lay more clothes on his feet : I put my hand 
 into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as 
 any stone ; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, 
 and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. 
 
 Ni/m. They say, he cried out sack. 
 
 Quick. Ay, that 'a did. 
 
 Bard. And of women. 
 
 Quick. Nay, that 'a did not. [incarnate. 
 
 Boy. Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils 
 
 Quick. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a 
 colour he never liked. [about women. 
 
 Boi/. 'A said once, the devil would have him 
 
 Quick. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle wo- 
 men : but then he was rheumatic ; and talked of the 
 whore of Babylon. 
 
 Boy. Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick 
 upon Bardolph's nose, and 'a said, it was a black 
 soul burning in hell-fire? 
 
 Bard. VVell, the fuel is gone, that maintained 
 that fire ; that's all the riches I got in his service. 
 
 Ni/?n. Shall we sliog off? the king will he gone 
 from Southampton. [lips. 
 
 Pi.'it. Come, let's away. — My love, give mtf thy 
 Look to my chattels, and my moveables : 
 Let senses rule ; the word is. Pitch and pay ; 
 Tiust none ; 
 
 For oatiis are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes. 
 And hold -fast is the only dog, my duck ; 
 Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor. 
 Go, clear thy crystals. — Y'oke-fellows in arms. 
 Let us to France ! like horse-leeches, my boys ; 
 To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck ! 
 
 Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say. 
 
 Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. 
 
 Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her.) 
 
 Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it ; 
 but adieu. [command. 
 
 Pist. Let housewifery appear : keep close, I thee 
 
 Quick. Farewell; adieu. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — France. A Room in the French King's 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter the French King attended; the Dauphin, 
 
 the Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Fr. King. Thus come the English with full power 
 And more than carefully it us concerns, [upon us; 
 To answer royally in our defences. 
 Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne, 
 Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth, — 
 And you, prince Dauphin, — with all swift despatch. 
 To line, and new repair, our towns of war, 
 Willi men of courage, and with means defendant : 
 For England his approaches makes as fierce 
 As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
 It fits us then, to be as provident 
 .\s fear may teach us, out of late examples, 
 Left by the fatal and neglected English 
 Upon our fields. 
 
 Dau. My most redoubted father. 
 
 It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe : 
 For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, 
 (Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in ques- 
 But that defences, musters, preparations, ition,) 
 •Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected. 
 As were a war in expectation. ' 
 
 Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go fo'.'.h. 
 
 To view the sick and feeble parts of France : 
 And let us do it with no shew of fear : 
 No, with nu more, than if we hear th^t England 
 Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance 
 For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd. 
 Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
 By a vain, shallow, humorous youth. 
 That fear attends her not. 
 
 Con. O ])eace, prince Dauphin 
 
 You are too much mistaken in this king : 
 Question your grace the late ambassadors, — 
 With what great state he heard their embassy, 
 How well supplied with noble counsellors, 
 How modest in exception, and, withal, 
 How terrible in constant resolution, — 
 And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent 
 Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
 Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
 As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
 That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 
 
 Dau. Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable. 
 But though we think it so, it is no matter: 
 In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh 
 The enemy more mighty than he seems, 
 So the pioportions of defence are fiU'd ; 
 Which, of a weak and niggardly projection. 
 Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scautiug- 
 A little cloth. 
 
 Fr. King. Think we king Harry strong ; 
 And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him 
 'I'he kindred of him hath been tlesh'd upon us; 
 And he is bred out of that bloody strain. 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths : 
 Witness our too much memorable shame. 
 When Cressy battle fatally was struck. 
 And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand 
 Ofthat black name, Edward, black prince of Wale.s 
 Whiles that his mountain sire, — on mountain 
 
 standing. 
 Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,— 
 Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him 
 ftlangle the work of nature, and deface 
 The patterns, that by God and by French fathers 
 Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
 Ofthat victorious stock; and let us fear 
 The native mightiness and fate of him. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Ambassadors from Henry King of England 
 Do crave admittance to your majesty. 
 Fr. King. We'll give them present audience. 
 Go and bring them. 
 
 [Exeiint Mgss. and certain Lords. 
 Vou see, this chase is hotly foUow'd, friends. 
 Dau, Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward 
 dogs [threaten, 
 
 Most spend their mouths, vvhen what they seem to 
 Runs far before them. Good my sovereign. 
 Take up the English short; and let them know 
 Of what a monarchy you are the head : 
 Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
 As self-neglecting. 
 
 Re-enter Lords, tvith Exeter and Train. 
 Fr, King. From our brother England 'f 
 
 Exe. From him ; and thus he greets your majesty 
 He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, 
 That you divest yourself, and lay apart 
 The borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven. 
 By laws of nature, and of nations, 'long 
 To him, and to his heirs ; namely, the crown. 
 And all wide-stretched honours that pertain. 
 By custom and the drdinance of times. 
 Unto the crown of France. That ypu may know, 
 'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
 Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days. 
 Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak]d. 
 He sends vou this most memorable line, 
 
 [Gives aj}aper. 
 
Act III. Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 377 
 
 In every branch truly demonstrative ; 
 
 Willing you, overlook this pedigree : 
 And, uheii yoii find him evenly deriv'd 
 From his most fain'd of famous ancestors, 
 Edwaid the Third, he bids you then resign 
 V'our ciown and kingdom, indirectly held 
 From him the native and true challenger. 
 
 Fr. King. Or else wliat follows ? 
 
 Exe. liloody constrain; for if you hide the crown 
 Even in your hearts, tliere will be rak^ for it: 
 And therefore in fierce tempests is he coming, 
 'ii tliunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove; 
 That, if requiring fad, he will compel ; ) 
 And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, 
 Deliver uj) the crown; and to take mercy 
 On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war 
 Opens his vasty jaws : and on your head 
 'I'urns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, 
 'J'he dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans, 
 For Imsbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers. 
 That shall be swallowed in this controversy. 
 Tliis is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message ; 
 Unless the Dauphin be in presence here. 
 To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 
 
 Fr. Kiny. For us, we wdl consider of this further : 
 To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
 Back to our brother England. 
 
 Dent. For the Dauphin, 
 
 I stand here for hinv; What to him from England ? 
 
 Exe. Scorn, and defiance : slight regard, contempt. 
 And any thing, that may not misbecome 
 The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
 Thus says my king : and, if your father's highness 
 Do not, in grant of all demands at large. 
 Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty. 
 He'll call you to so hot an answer«lbr it. 
 That caves and womby vaultages of France 
 Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock 
 In second accent of his ordnance. 
 
 Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply. 
 It is against my will • for I desire 
 Nothing but odds with England ; to that end, 
 As mat(;l!ing to his youth and vanity, 
 
 did present him with those Paris balls. 
 
 Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, 
 Were it the mistress court of miglity Europe : 
 And, be assur'd, you'll find a difference, 
 (As we, his subjects, have in wonder found,) 
 Ijetween the promise of his greener days, 
 .And these he masters now ; now he weighs time. 
 Even to the utmost grain; which you shall read 
 In your own losses, if he stay in France. 
 
 Fr. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind 
 at full. [king 
 
 Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our 
 Come here himself to question our delay ; 
 For he is footed in this laud already. [conditions : 
 
 Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch'd, with fair 
 A night is but .small breath, and little pause 
 To auswer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT 111. 
 
 Enter Chorus 
 
 C/io. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies, 
 In motion of no less celerity 
 
 Than that of tliought. Suppose, that you have seen 
 The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
 Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the yoimg Phoebus fanning. 
 Play with your fancies; and in them behold. 
 Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing: 
 Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 To sounds confus'd : behold the threaden sails, 
 Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
 Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea. 
 Breasting the lofty surge : O, do but think. 
 You stand upon the rivage, and behold 
 A city on the inconstant billows dancing ; 
 For HO appears this fleet majestical. 
 
 Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow^ 
 Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy; 
 And leave ynnr England, as (lead midnight, still. 
 Guarded vvith grandsires, babies, and old women. 
 Either past, or not arrived to, pith and puissance : 
 For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd 
 With one ai)pearing hair, that will not follow 
 These cuU'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to Franre. 
 Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege 
 Behold the ordnance on their carriages. 
 With fatal mouths gaping on girded llarfleur. 
 Sujipose, the ambassador from the French come." 
 Tells Harry — that the king doth offer him [back^ 
 Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry. 
 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
 'J'he offer likes not: and the nimble gunner 
 With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, 
 
 {Alarum; arid ahatnbers go q[f.) 
 And down goes all before them. Still be kind, 
 And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit. 
 
 Scene L The same. Before Harjleur. 
 
 Alarums. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, 
 Gloster, and Soldiers, toith scaling ladders. 
 K. Hen. Once nriore unto the breach, dear friends, 
 once more ; 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man. 
 As modest stillness, and humility : 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears. 
 Then iuiitate the action of the tiger ; 
 Stiifen the sinews, sunmion up the blood, 
 Disguise fair nature with hard favour'd rage : , 
 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head. 
 Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it. 
 As fearfully, as doth a galled rock 
 O'erhang audjuttyhis conlounded base, 
 Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height! — On, on, you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof ! 
 Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, * 
 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
 And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument. 
 Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest. 
 That those, whom you calld fathers, did beget you 
 Be copy now to men of grosser blood. 
 And teach them how to war I — and you, good 
 
 yeomen, 
 Whose liinbs were made in England, show us bere 
 The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
 That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt 
 For there is none of you so mean and base, (not ; 
 That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Strainuig upon the start. The game's afoot; 
 Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 
 Cry — God for Harry ! England! and Saint George! 
 [ Exeunt. A laruni, and chambers go off. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. 
 
 Forces pass over; then enter Nym, B.vrdolph, 
 
 Pistol, and Boy. 
 Bard. O.v on, on, on ! to the breach, to the 
 breach 1 
 
 Nym. 'Pray thee, corporal, stay ; the knocks are 
 too hot; and, for mine own part, 1 have not a case 
 of lives : the humour of it is too hot, that is the very 
 plain-song of it. [do aboinid ; 
 
 Pist. The plain-song is most Just; for humours 
 Knocks go and come ; God's vassals drop and die ; 
 And sword and shield, 
 in bloody field, 
 Dolh win immortal fame. 
 Boy. 'Would I were in an alehouse in London! 1 
 would gi\ e all my fame fora pot of ale, and safely 
 Pist. And I : 
 
 If wishes would prevail with me. 
 
378 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 My purpose should not fail with me, 
 Bnt thither would I hie. 
 Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth song 
 ou bough. 
 
 Enter Fluellen 
 
 Flu. Got's plood ! — Up to the j)reaches, and 
 rascals I will you not up to the preaches? 
 
 {Driving them foivard.) 
 
 Pist. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould ! 
 Abate thy r^ge, abate thy manly rage ! 
 Abate thy rage, great duke ! [chuck ! 
 
 Good bawcor.k, hate thy rage ! use lenity, sweet 
 
 Nym. 'J'hese be good humours ! — your honour 
 wins bad humours. 
 
 [Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, 
 followed by Fluellen. 
 
 Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these 
 three swashers. I aui boy to them all three : but 
 all they three, though they would serve me, could 
 not be man to me; for, indeed, three such antics 
 do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, — he is 
 white-li/er'd, and red-faced ; by the means whereof, 
 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, — he hath 
 a killing tongue, and a quiet sword ; by the means 
 whereof, 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. 
 For Nym, — he hath heard, that men of few words 
 are the best men ; and therefore he scorns to say 
 his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward ; but 
 his few bad words are match'd with as few good 
 deeds ; for 'a ne\ er broke any man's head but his 
 own ; and that was against a post, when he was 
 drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it, — 
 purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case ; bore it 
 twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym, 
 and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching: and 
 in Calais they stole a fire-shovel : I knew, by that 
 piece of service, the men would carry coals. They 
 would have me as familiar with men's pockets, 
 as their gloves or their handkerchiefs : which makes 
 much against my manhood, if I should take fro.n 
 another's pocket, to put into mine ; for it is plain 
 pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and 
 seek some better service: their villainy goes against 
 my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. 
 
 [Exit Boy. 
 
 Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following. 
 
 Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently 
 to the mines; the duke of Gloster would speak 
 with you. 
 
 Flu. To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not 
 so goot to come to the mines : For, look you, the 
 mines is not according to the disciplines of the war ; 
 the concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, 
 th' athveisary (you may discuss unto the duke, look 
 j'ou,) is dight himself four yards under the counter- 
 mines : by Cheshu, I think, 'a will plow up all, if 
 there is not better directions. 
 
 Gow. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order 
 of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an 
 Irishman ; a very valiant gentleman, i'faith. 
 
 Flti. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not ? 
 
 Gow. I think, it be. 
 
 Flu. By Che.shu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld : 
 I will verify as much in his peard : he has no more 
 directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look 
 you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. 
 
 Enter Macmorris anrf Jamy, at a distance. 
 
 Dow. Here 'a comes ; and the Scots captain, cap- 
 tain Jamy, with him. 
 
 Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gen- 
 ■ tleman., that is certain ; and of great expedition, 
 and knowledge in the ancient wars, npon my par- 
 ticular knowledge of his directions: By Cheshu, he 
 will maintain his argument as well as 'any military 
 man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine 
 wars of the Romans. 
 Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jam^. 
 
 Gow. How now, captain Macmorris? have you 
 quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er? 
 
 Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done : the vvork ish 
 give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By ray 
 hand, I swear, and by my fatlters soul, the work 
 ish ill done ; it ish give over : I would have blowed 
 up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. 
 O, tish ill done, tish ill done ; by ray hand, tish ill 
 done ! 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will 
 you voutsafe me, look you, a lew disputations with 
 you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines 
 of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, 
 look you, and f^iiendly communication ; partly, to 
 satisfy my opinion, and partly, for the satisfaction, 
 look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of 
 the military discipline ; that is the point. 
 
 Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud captains 
 bath : and I sail quit you with gud leve, as I may 
 pick occasion; that sail I, marry. 
 
 Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save 
 me, the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, 
 and the king, and the dukes ; it is no time to dis-' 
 course. The town is beseeched, and the trumpet 
 calls us to the breach ; and we talk, and, by Chrish, 
 do nothing; 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' me, 
 'tis shame to stand still ; it is shame, by my hand: 
 and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; 
 and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' rae, la. 
 
 Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take 
 themselves to slumber, aile do gude ser»ice, or aile 
 ligge i'the grund for it ; ay, or go to death; and aiki 
 pay it as valorously as I may, that sail I surely do, 
 that is the bretl" and the long: Marry, I wad full 
 fain heard some question 'tween you 'tway. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, un- 
 der your correction, there is not many of your na- 
 tion 
 
 Mac. Of my nation ? What ish my nation ? ish 
 a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a r-iscal ? 
 What ish my nation ? Who talks of my nation ? 
 
 Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise 
 than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, 1 
 shall think you do not use me with that all'ability a* 
 in discretion you ought to use me, look you ; being 
 as goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of 
 wars, and in the derivation of my birth, anci in other 
 particularities. 
 
 Mac. I do not know you so good a man as myself: 
 so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. 
 
 Gow. Geitleinen both, you will mistake each 
 other. 
 
 Jamy. Au ! that's a foul fault. {Aparley sounded.) 
 
 Gow. The town sounds a parley. 
 
 Flu. Captain M;;cmorris, when there is more 
 Better opportunity to be required, look you, I will 
 be so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of 
 war ; and there is an end. [Exeunt-, 
 
 Scene III. — The same. Before the Gates of 
 
 Harfleur. 
 
 The Governor and some Citizens on the walls ; 
 
 and English Forces below. Enter King Henry 
 
 and his Train. 
 
 K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the 
 This is the latest [larle we will admit : [town? 
 
 Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves ; 
 Or, like to men proud of destruction, 
 Defy us to our .vorst: for, as I am a soldier, 
 (A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best,) 
 If I begin the battery once again, 
 I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur, 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
 The gates of mercy shall be all shut up; 
 AnU the flesh'd soldier,— rough and hard of heart,-- 
 In liberty of bloody hand, shall range 
 With conscience wide as hell ; mowing like grass 
 Your fresh-fair virgins, and your flowering infants 
 What ia it then to me, if impious war, — 
 
SCKNE 5. 
 
 KING HENRY V 
 
 379 
 
 AiTay'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, — 
 
 Do, with his smiich'd r,on)|jiexion, all fell feats 
 
 Enlink'd to waste and desolation ? 
 
 What is't to nie, when yon yourselves are cause. 
 
 If your pure maidens fail into the hand 
 
 Of hot and forcing < iolation ? 
 
 What rein can hold licentious wickedness, 
 
 When down the liiil he holds his (irrce career? 
 
 We may as bootless s|jend our vain cornniaod 
 
 Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil. 
 
 As send precepts to the Leviathan 
 
 Tocouie ashore. Tlierefore, you men of Harfleur, 
 
 Take pity of your town, and of your people, 
 
 Whiles yet my soldiers are in my conmiand ; 
 
 Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 
 
 O'erhliius the tilthy and contagious clouds 
 
 Of deadly murder, spoil, and \illainy. 
 
 If not, wliy, in a moment, look to see 
 
 The blind and bloody soldier with i'oul hand 
 
 Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters . 
 
 Vour fathers taken by the silver beards. 
 
 And their n\ost reverend heads dash'd to the walls ; 
 
 i our naked infants spitted upon pikes ; 
 
 VVhiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd 
 
 Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
 
 At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 
 
 What say you ? will you yield, and this avoid ? 
 
 Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd ? 
 
 Goiv. Our expectation hath this day an end: 
 The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, 
 Returns us — that his powers are not yet ready 
 To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king, 
 We yield otir town, and lives, to thy soil mercy : 
 Enter our gates ; dispose of ns, and ours ; 
 For we no longer are defensible ; 
 
 K. Hen. Open your gates. — Come, uncle Exeter, 
 Go yon and enter fJarlleur; there remain, 
 And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French : 
 "Use me icy to them all. For us, dear nncle, — 
 The winter coining on, and sickness growing 
 Upon our soldiers, — we'll retire to Calais. 
 Tonight in Haifleur will we be your guest; 
 'IV morrow for the march aie we addrest. 
 
 [Flourish. The Kinrj, §fc. enter the Town. 
 
 Scene IV". — Roicen. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Katharine and Alice. 
 
 Kaih. Alice, tu as este en Anyleterre, et tu 
 paries bien le lanyaye. 
 
 Alice. Un peu, inadame. 
 
 Kath. Je te prie, m'ensei<jnez ; il faid que 
 japprenne a parler. Comment appellez vous la 
 main, en Anylois? 
 
 Alice. La main! elle est appellee, de hand. 
 
 Knth. De hand. Et les doi'jts / 
 
 Alice. Les doi'jts ( maj'oy.je oublie les doifjts ; 
 mais je me soitviendray. Les doiyts? je pense, 
 qiCils sont appelles de hiigies ; oiiy. de fingres. 
 
 Kath. iift jwrti'n, de hand ; les Uoigts, Ae 'aagtes. 
 Je poise, que je suis le ban escolier. J ai gag7ie 
 deux mots d'Anglois vistement. Comment ap- 
 pelhz vous les onijles ? 
 
 Alice. Les angles 'f les appellons, de nails. 
 
 Kath. De nails. Escoutez ; dites mot, si je 
 parte bien ; de hand, de fingres, de nails. 
 
 Alice. C'est bien dit, madame ; il est fort ban 
 Anglois. 
 
 Kath. Dites may en Anglais, le bras. 
 
 Alice. \)e arm, madame. 
 
 Kath. Et le coude. 
 
 Alice. De elbow. 
 
 Kath. De elbow. Je m'en faitz la repetition 
 de tous les tnots, que vous tn'avez appris des a 
 present. 
 
 Alice. II est trop difficile, madame, comme je 
 pense. 
 
 Kath. Excusez may, Alice ; escoutez : De hand, 
 de fiiigre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow. 
 
 Alice. De elbow, /«flc/«2ne. 
 
 Kath. O Seigneur Lieu ! je m'en oublie ; De 
 
 elbow. Comment appellez iwus le coif 
 
 Alice. De neck, madame. 
 
 Kath. De neck ; Et le menton? 
 
 Alice. De chin. 
 
 Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck : le menton, de 
 sin. 
 
 Alice. Oiiy. Satrf vosire /lunnenr : en verite, 
 vous protwncez les mots au.'isi druict que les 
 natifs d'Angleterre. 
 
 Kath. Je ne doute point d apprendre pur la 
 graee de Dieu ; et en peu de letups. 
 
 Alie. N avez vous pas deja oublie ce que je 
 vous ay enseicjnee ! 
 
 Kath. Non, je reciteray d vous promptement. 
 De hand, de finyre, de m^iils, — 
 
 Alice. De nails, »W(7^«»!e. 
 
 Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. 
 
 Alice. Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow. 
 
 Kath. Ainsi dis je ; de elbow, de neck, et de 
 sin ; Cotnment appellez vans le pied et la rube If 
 
 Alice. De {ooi. madame ; et de c<mi. 
 
 Kath. De foot, et de con";' Seigneur Dieu; 
 ces sont mots de son mauvais. corruptible, grosse, 
 et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur 
 d'nser. Je ne voiidrois prononcer ces mols devant 
 les seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde. 11 
 faut de foot, et de con, neant-tnoiiis. Je reciterai 
 vne autre j'ais ma leqon ensemble : De hand, de 
 fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, de sin, 
 de foot, de con. 
 
 Alice. Excellent, inadame. 
 
 Kath. (J'est assez pouriinefois; allons nous a 
 disner. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter the Freiich King, the Dauphin. Duke oj 
 Bourbon, the Constable of France, and others. 
 
 Fr. King. 'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river 
 Sonnne. 
 
 Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, 
 Let us not live in France ; let us quit all, 
 And give our vineyards to a barbaioiis people. 
 
 Dau. Dieu vivant ! shall a few spia\ s of us, — 
 The emptying of our fathers' luxury, 
 Our scions, put in wild and savage stock. 
 Spirt np so suddenly into the clouds, 
 And overlook their grafters ? [bastards 
 
 Bo7ir. Normans, but bastard Normans, Normau 
 Mart de ma vie ! if they march along 
 UnfbughtXvithal, but I will sell my dukedom, 
 To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm 
 In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. [mettle i 
 
 Can. Dieu de battailes ! where have they thia 
 Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull ? 
 On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale. 
 Killing their fruit with frowns ? Can sodden water. 
 A drench for sur-reiu'd jades, their barley broth. 
 Decoct their cold blood to such valiant iieat ? 
 And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine. 
 Seem frosty 'I O, for honour of our land. 
 Let us not hang like roping icicles [people 
 
 Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty 
 Sweat drops of gallant yonth in our rich fields ; 
 Poor — we may call them, in their native lords. 
 
 Dau. By faith and honour, 
 Our madams mock at us : and plainly say. 
 Our mettle is bred out; and they will give 
 Their bodies to the lust of English youth. 
 To new-store France with bastard warriors. 
 
 Baur. They bid us— to the English dancing-- 
 schools. 
 And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos ; 
 Saying, our grace is only in our heels. 
 And that we are most lofty runaways. 
 
 Fr. King. Where is Montjoy, the herald ? speed 
 him hence ; 
 Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. — 
 Up, princes ; and with spirit of honour edg'd, 
 More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: 
 ChariesDela-bret, high constable of France ; 
 
889 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act ITT. 
 
 Vou ddkes of Orleans, Bourlion, and of Berry, 
 
 AleiKjon. Brabant, Bar, and Biirgimdy. 
 
 Jaques Cliatillon, Rarnbure?, Vaiu!<>ni(int, 
 
 Ueaniu.iut, Gratidpie, Boiifii, and Faucoiiberg, 
 
 Sroix, Lestrale, Baiiciqiialt, and Charolois; 
 
 High dukes, great princes, l)arous, lords, and 
 
 kniglits, 
 For your great seals, now quit yon of great sliames. 
 Bariiarry England, tliat sweeps through our land 
 With pennons painted in tlie blood of Harfleur : 
 Riisii on iiis liost, as doth the melted snow 
 Upon the valleys; whose low vassal seat 
 Tlie Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: 
 Go down upon him, — you have power enough, — 
 And in a captive chariot into Roiien 
 ISring him our prisoner. 
 
 Cun. This becoriies the great 
 
 Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, 
 His soldiers sick, and f'amishd in their marcii ; 
 For, 1 am sure, when he shall see our army, 
 Ho'll droop his heart into the sink of fear, 
 And, for achievement, otler ns his ransoine. 
 
 Fr. Kincj. Therefore, lord constable, haste on 
 Montjoy ; 
 And let him say to England, that we send 
 To know what willing ransome lie will give. 
 Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Roiien. 
 
 Dan. Not so, 1 do beseech your majesty 
 
 Fr. Kinrj. Be patient, for you shall remain with 
 Now, fortli, lord constable, and princes all ; [us. — 
 And quickly bring us word of England's fall. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — The EmjUsh Camp in Picardy. 
 Enter Gower and Fluellen. 
 
 Gow. How now, captain Fluellen''' come you 
 from I he bridge ? 
 
 Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent service 
 committed at the pridge ? 
 
 Gow, Is the Duke of Exeter safe '^ 
 
 Flu. Tiie duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as 
 Agamemnon : and a man, that I love and honour 
 with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my 
 life, and my li\ings, and my uttermost j-owers : he 
 is not (God be praised, and plessed !) any hurt in 
 the 'orld ; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with 
 excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at 
 the pridge, — I think, in my very conscience, he is 
 as valiant as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no 
 estimation in the 'orld^ but 1 did see him do gallant 
 service. 
 
 Goiv. What do you call him ? 
 
 Flu. He is called — ancient Pistol 
 
 Gow. 1 know him not. 
 
 Enter PiSTOL. 
 
 Flu. Do you not know him'? Here coraes the man. 
 
 Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours: 
 The <luke of Exeter doth love thee well. 
 
 Flu. Ay, I praise Got ; and I have merited some 
 love at his hands. 
 
 Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart. 
 Of buxom valour, hath, liy cruel fate 
 And giddy fortune's fickle wheel, 
 That goddess blind. 
 That stands upon the rolling restless stone, — 
 
 Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is 
 painted pliiid, with a mufller before her eyes, to 
 signify to you, that fortune is plind. And she is 
 painted also with a wheel : to signify to you, which 
 IS the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, 
 and variations, and mutabilities : and her foot, look 
 yon, is fixed upon a spherical stone, wliich rolls, 
 and lolls, and rolls; — lu good truth, the poet is 
 make a most excellent description of fortune : for 
 tune, look you, is an excellent moral. [him ; 
 
 Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on 
 For he hath storn a pix, and hanged must 'a be. 
 A damned death ! 
 Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free : 
 
 And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate : 
 
 But Exeter hath given the doom of death. 
 
 For pix of little price. 
 
 Therelore, go speak, the duke vvill hear thy voice; • 
 
 And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
 
 VV'itli edge of penny cord, and vile reproach : 
 
 Sjjoak, captain, for his life, and I will tine requite 
 
 Flu. Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand youl 
 meaning. 
 
 Pist. Why then rejoice therefore. 
 
 Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice 
 at: for if, look yon, he were my brother, I would 
 desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put 
 him to executions ; for disciplines ought to be used. 
 
 Pist. Die and be damn'd; andyi^o for thy friend- 
 
 Flu. It is well. (ship!. 
 
 Pist. 'I'iie fig of Spain ! [Exit Pistol. 
 
 ■ Flu. Very goot. 
 
 Gow. Wiiy this is an arrant counterfeit rascal ; I 
 remember him now; a bawd; a cutpurse. 
 
 Flu. I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at 
 the pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day : But 
 it is very well ; what he has spoke to me, that is 
 well, I warrant you, when time is serve. 
 
 Gow. Why, 'tis a gull', a fool, a rogue; that novr 
 and then goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his 
 return into London, under the form of a soldier. 
 And such fellows are perfect in great commanders' 
 names : and they will learn you by rote, where ser- 
 vices were done; — at such and such a sconce, at 
 such a breach, at such a convoy ; who came oil 
 bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms 
 the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in 
 the phrase of war, wlucli they trick up with new- 
 tuned oaths : And what a beard o! the general's cut, 
 and a lion id suit ol' the camp, will do among foam- 
 ing bottles, and a!e washed wits, is wonderful to 
 be thought (Ui ! Biii you must, learn to know such 
 slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellous 
 mistook. 
 
 Flu. I tell you what, captain Gower; — I do per- 
 ceive, he is not the man that he would gladly make 
 show to the 'orld he is; if I find a hole in his coat, 
 I will tell him my mini. {Drum /ier:rd.) Hark yon, 
 the king is coming ; and 1 must speak with him 
 from the pridge. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 
 Flu. Got pless your majesty ! 
 
 iv. Hen. How now, Fluellen'? earnest thou from 
 the bridge '? 
 
 Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of 
 Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge : 
 the French is gone ofl", look you ; and there is gal- 
 lant and most prave passages : Marry, tli' atliversary 
 was have possession of the pridge ; but he is en- 
 forced to retire, and the duke of Exeter is master 
 oi' the pridge : I can tell your majesty the duke is 
 a pra^e man. 
 
 A"^. Hen. What men have yon lost, Fluellen ? 
 
 Flu. The perdition of th' atliversary hath been 
 very great, \ery reasonable great: marry, for my 
 part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but 
 one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, 
 one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man : his 
 face is all bubuckles, and whelks, and knobs, and 
 flames of fire ; and his lips plows at his nose, and it 
 is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes 
 red ; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out. 
 
 K. Hen. We would have all such offenders so 
 cutolf: — and we gixe express charge, that, in our 
 marches through the country, there be nothing com- 
 pelled from t!ie villages, nothing taken but paid 
 for; none of the French upbraided, or abused in 
 disdainful language; For when lenity and cruelty 
 play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the 
 soonest winner. 
 
 Tucket sounds. Enter MoNTJOY. 
 Mont. You know me by my habit. 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 381 
 
 K. lien. Well then, I know thee ; What shall 1 
 
 Mont. Mv master's mind. [know of thee? 
 
 K. lien. Unfold it. 
 
 Mont. Thus says my kinf( :— Say thou to Harry 
 of England, Though we seemed dead, we did but 
 sleep; Advantage is a better soldier, than rashness. 
 Tell him, we conld have rebuked him at Hartleur; 
 but thiit we tiionght not good to bruise an injury, 
 till it were full ripe : — now we speak upon our cue, 
 rttui our voice is imperial : England shall repent 
 his folly, see his weakness, and admire our suffer- 
 ance. Bid him, therefore, consider of his ransome ; 
 which must proporlion the losses we have borne, 
 the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have 
 digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his petti- 
 ness would bow under. For our losses, his exche- 
 quer is too poor; for the effusion of our blood, the 
 muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for 
 our disgrac-, his own person, kneeling at our feet, 
 but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this 
 add — defiimce : and tell him, for conclusion, he hath 
 betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is 
 pronounced. So far my king and master; so much 
 my olhce. 
 
 K. Hen. What is thy name ? I know thy quality. 
 
 Mo7it. Montjoy. [bacK, 
 
 K. Hen. 'I'hou dost thy office fairly. Tarn thee 
 And tell thy king, — I do not seek him now ; 
 But could be willing to march on to Calais 
 Without empeachuient : for, to say the sooth, 
 (Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
 Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,) 
 My people are with sickness nmch enfeebled ; 
 My numbers lessen'd ; and those few I have. 
 Almost no better than so many French ; 
 Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, 
 I thought, upon one pair ol' English legs 
 Did match three Frenchmen. — Yet, forgive me God, 
 'J'hnt I do brag thus ! — this your air of France 
 Hath blown that vice in me ; I must repent. 
 Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am ; 
 !VIy ransome, is this frail and worthless trunk : 
 My army, but a weak and sickly guard ; 
 Vet, (iud before, tell him we will come on, 
 Though France himself, ami such another neighbour. 
 Stand in our ways. There's for thy labour, Moufjoy. 
 Go, bid thy army well advise himself: 
 If we may pass, we will; itWe be hinder'd, 
 We slsall your tawny ground with your red blood 
 Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you well. 
 The sum of all our answer is but this : 
 We would not seek a battle, as we are ; 
 Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it: 
 So tell your master. 
 Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your high- 
 ness. [Exit Montjoy. 
 Glo. I hope, they will not come upon us now. 
 K. Hen. We are in God's hand, brothers, not in 
 theirs. 
 
 March to the bridge ; it now draws towards night : 
 
 Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ; 
 
 And on to-morrow bid them march away. [Exeunt. 
 
 CENE VII. — T/ie French Camp, near Agincourt. 
 Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rxm- 
 
 BUUEs, the Duke r)f ORLExys, the Dauphin, and 
 
 others. 
 
 Con. Tut ! I have the best armour of the world. 
 Would it Were day ! 
 
 Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let my 
 horse have his due. 
 
 Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 
 
 Orl. Will it never be morning? 
 
 Dan. My lord of Orleans, and my lord high 
 Constable, you talk of horse and armour, — 
 
 Orl. You are as well provided ol' both, as any 
 prince in the world. 
 
 Dani. What a long night is this I 1 will not 
 
 change my horse with any that treads but on four 
 jasterns. Ca, ha ! He bounds from the earth, as if | 
 
 his entrails were nairs : le chevnl volant, the Pega- 
 sus, qui a les narines de feu ! When I bestride him 
 I soar, i am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth 
 sings, when he touches it ; the basest horn of his 
 hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 
 Orl. lie's of the colour of the nutmeg. 
 Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a 
 beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the 
 dull elements "of earth and water never appear in 
 him, but only in patient stillness, while his ride 
 mounts him : he is, indeed, a horse; and all othe 
 jades you may call — beasts. 
 
 Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and 
 excellent horse. 
 
 Dau. h is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is 
 like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance 
 enforces homage. 
 
 Orl. No more, cousin. 
 
 Dati. Nay, the man hath no wit, that caisr.ot, 
 from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the 
 lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey : it is a 
 theme as fluent as the sea; turn the sands into elo 
 qiient tongues, and my horse is argument for them 
 all : 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and 
 for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on ; and for the 
 world, (familiar to us, and unknown,) to lay apart 
 their partictdar functions, and wonder at liini. J 
 once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus : 
 Wonder of nature. |niistress. 
 
 Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to ont-'s 
 Dau. Then did they imitate that which I com 
 posed to my courser ; for my horse is my mistress. 
 Orl. Your mistress bears well. 
 Dau. Me well ; which is the prescript praise and 
 perfection of a good and particular mistress. 
 
 Con. Mafoy! the other day, methought, your 
 mistress shrewdly shook your back. 
 Dau. So, perhaps, did yours. 
 Con. Mine was not bridled. 
 
 Dau. 01 then, belike, she was old and gentle; 
 and you rode, like a Kerne of Ireland, your French 
 hose off, and in your strait trossers. 
 
 Con. You have good judgment in horsemanship. 
 Dau. Be warned bjr me then : they that ride so, 
 and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs ; I had ra- 
 ther have my hor.se to my mistress. 
 
 Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. 
 Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears 
 her own hair. 
 
 Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if I 
 had a sow to my mistress. 
 
 Dau. Le chien est retourne a sonpropre vomis 
 sement, et la truie lavee au bourbier : thou makest 
 use of any thing. 
 
 Con. Yet I do not use my horse for my mistress ; 
 or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose. 
 
 Ram. My lord constable, the armour that I sau 
 in your tent to-night, are those stars, orsuns, npoii it ? 
 Con. Stars, my Lord. 
 
 Dau. Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope. 
 Co7t. And yet my sky shall not want. 
 Dau. That may be, for you bear a many super- 
 fluously ; and 'twere more honour, some were away 
 Con. Even as your horse bears your praises 
 who would trot as well, were some of your brags 
 dismounted. 
 
 Dau. 'Would I were able to load him with hi 
 desert! Will it never be day ? I will trot to-mor 
 row a mile, and my way shall be paved wi' 
 English faces. 
 
 Con. I will not say so, for fear I should be face 
 out of my way : But I would it were morning, fo 
 I would fain be about the ears of the English. 
 
 Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty 
 English prisoners ? [you have them. 
 
 Con. You must first go yourself to hazard 
 Dau. 'Tis midnight, I'll go arm myself. ( i 
 Orl. 'The Dauphin longs for nwrning. 
 Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
 Con. 1 think, he will eat all he kills. 
 
 ere 
 E.rit. 
 
382 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Orl By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant 
 prince. the oath. 
 
 Con. Swear by iier foot, that she may tread out 
 
 Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman of 
 Prance. [doing 
 
 Con. Doing is activity : and he will still be 
 
 Orl. He never did harm, that 1 heard of 
 
 Coti. Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep 
 that good name still. 
 
 Orl. I know him to be valiant. 
 
 Con. I was told that, by one that knows him 
 
 Orl. What's he ? [better than yon. 
 
 Con. Marry, he told me so himself: and he said, 
 he cared not who knew it. 
 
 Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue iu him. 
 
 Co7t. By my faith, sir, but it is ; never any body 
 saw it, but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour; and, 
 when it appears, it will bate. 
 
 Orl. Ill will never said well. 
 
 Cott. I will cap that proverb with — There is flat- 
 tery ill friendship. [his due. 
 
 Orl. And I will take np that with — Give the devil 
 
 Con. WeW placed ; there stands your friend for 
 the devil : have at the very eye of that proverb, 
 with — a pox of the devil. 
 
 Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how much 
 
 A fool's bolt is soon shot 
 
 Con. You have shot over. 
 
 Orl. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie 
 within fifteen hundred paces of your tent. 
 
 Con. Who hath measured the ground ? 
 
 Mess. The lord Grandpre. 
 
 Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman. — 
 Would it were day! — Alas, poor Harry of Cngland ! 
 he longs not for the dawning, as we do. 
 
 Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this 
 king of England, to mope with his fat-brained fol- 
 lowers so far out of his knowledge ! 
 
 Con. If the English had any apprehension, they 
 would run away. 
 
 Orl. That they lack ; for if their heads had any 
 intellectual armour, they could never wear such 
 heavy head-pieces. 
 
 Ratn. That island of England breeds very valiant 
 creatures; their mastitis are of unmatchable cou- 
 rage. 
 
 Orl. Foolish curs ! that run winking into the 
 mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads 
 crushed like rotten apples : You may as well say, — 
 that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on 
 the lip of a lion. 
 
 Con. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with 
 the mastitis, in robustious and rough coining on, 
 leaving their wits with their wives : and then give 
 them great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they 
 will eat like vvolves, and fight like devils. 
 
 Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of 
 beef. 
 
 Con. Then we shall find to-morrow — they have 
 only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it 
 time to arm : Come, shall we about it ? [ten, 
 
 Orl. It is now two o'clock ■ but let me see, — by 
 ^'e shall have each a hundred Englishmen. [£*ez<ni. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 (Jio. Now entertain conjecture of a time, 
 VVhen creeping murmur, and the poring dark, 
 Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night. 
 The hum of either army stilly sounds, 
 Tiiat the fix'd sentinels almost receive 
 The secret whisjjers of each other's watch: 
 Fire answers fire ; and through their paly flames 
 Bach battle sees the other's uiiiber'd face : 
 Steed threatens steed, m high and boastful neighs. 
 
 Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tent 
 
 The armourers, accomplishing the knights. 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up. 
 
 Give dreadful note of preparation. 
 
 The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll. 
 
 And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
 
 Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, 
 
 The confident and over-lusty French 
 
 Do the low-rated English piay at dice ; 
 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaited niylit. 
 
 VVlio, like a foul and ugly witch, doth liiii|) 
 
 So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
 
 Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
 
 Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
 
 The mornings danger ; and their gesture sad, 
 
 Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn co;tts, 
 
 Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
 
 So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will beliold 
 
 The royal captain of this ruin'd band. 
 
 Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent. 
 
 Let him cry— Praise and glory on his head ! 
 
 For forth he goes, and visits all his host ; 
 
 Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile ; 
 
 And calls them — brothers, friends, and countrymen 
 
 Upon his royal face there is no note; 
 
 How dread an army hath enrounded him ; 
 
 Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
 
 Unto the weary and all-watched night : 
 
 But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint. 
 
 With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; 
 
 That every wretch, pining and pale before. 
 
 Beholding him, plucks comfort irom his looks ; 
 
 A largess universal, like the sun. 
 
 His liberal eye doth give to every one. 
 
 Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all. 
 
 Behold, as may unworthiness define, 
 
 A little touch of Harry in the night : 
 
 And so our scene must to the battle fly ; 
 
 Where, (O for pity !) we shall much disgrac e— 
 
 With four or five most vile and ragged foils. 
 
 Right ill disposed, in brawl ridiculous, — 
 
 The name of Agincouit : Yet, sit and see ; 
 
 Minding true things by what their mockeries be. 
 
 [L'.i /. 
 
 Scene I. — The English Camp at Agincourt. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster. 
 
 K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in grt- at 
 danger ; 
 The greater therefore should our courage be. — 
 Good-morrow, brother Bedford. — God Almighty : 
 There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men observingly distill it out; 
 For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers. 
 Which is both healthful, and good husbandry : 
 Besides, they are our outward consciences, 
 And preachers to us all ; admonishing, 
 That we should dress us iairly for our end. 
 Thus may we gather honey from the weed. 
 And make a moral of the devil himself. 
 
 Enter Erpingham. 
 Good-morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham : 
 A good soft pillow for that good white head 
 Were better than a churlish turf of France. 
 
 Erp. Not so, my liege ; this lodging likes me I t^t 
 Since I may say — now lie 1 like a king. [Mr 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis good for men to love their pri-.stii 
 Upon example; so the spirit is eased : (iiaii].«- 
 
 And, when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt, 
 Tiie organs, though defunct and dead before. 
 Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move 
 With casted slough and tiesh legerity. 
 Lend me thy cloak, sir Thomas.— Brothers both. 
 Commend me to the princes in our camp: 
 Do my good-nioriow to them : and, anon. 
 Desire tliem all to my pavilion. 
 
 G/o. We shall, my liege. [Exeunt Glos.andBedf 
 
 Erp. Shall I attend your grace ? 
 
 K. Hen. No. my good knight. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 383 
 
 G'j with my brothers to my lords of England : 
 I anil my bosom must debate a while. 
 And tlien I would no other company. 
 
 Erp. The lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart ! thou speakest 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Ptst. Quivald? 
 
 K. IJen. A friend 
 
 Pist. Discuss unto me ; art thou officer? 
 Or iiit thou base, common and populai ? 
 
 K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
 
 Ptst. Trailest thou the puissant pike? 
 
 K. Htn. Even so : What are you ? 
 
 Pist. As jjood a gentleman as the emperor. 
 
 K. Hen. Then you are better than the king. 
 
 Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, 
 A lad of life, an imp of fame ; 
 Of parents good, of list most laliant: 
 I kiss Ills dirty shoes, and from my lieart-sfrings 
 [ love the lovely b illy. What's thy name ? 
 
 K. Hen. Harry ' i?oy. 
 
 Pist. he Roy \ Cornish name : art thou of 
 
 Cortnsh i *w 
 
 ? 
 
 K. Hen. No, I . ji a Welshman. 
 Pist. Knowest ihou Fluellen V 
 K Hen. Yes. 
 
 Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate, 
 Up.iii St. Daiy's day. 
 
 K. Htn- Do not yon wear your dagger in your 
 cap that dav, lest he knock that about yours. 
 
 Pist. Ar'tthou his friend? 
 
 K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 
 
 Pist. Viie Ji(/o for thee then! 
 
 K Hen. 1 thank you : God be with you I 
 
 Pist. Aly name is Pistol called. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. It sorts well with your fierceness. 
 
 Enter Fluellen anrfGoWEK. severally. 
 
 Goto. Captain Fli:elleii I 
 
 F7ii. So ! in the name of Chesh.i Christ, speak 
 lower. It is the greatest adinir.ition in the univer- 
 sal old, when the true and auucient prerogatifes 
 and laws of the wars is not kept : if you would take 
 the pains but to evauiine the wars of Ponipey the 
 Great, yd'i shall find, I warrant you, that there is 
 no tidille taddle, or pibble j)abble, in Pouipey's 
 camp; I warrant you, you shall fi.id the cere'uionies 
 of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, 
 and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be 
 otherwise. (all night. 
 
 Goiv. Why, the enemy is loud ; you heard him 
 
 Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomb, is it nteet, think you, that we 
 fihould also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a 
 prating coxcomb ; in your own conscience now '■* 
 
 Gow. I will speak lower. 
 
 Flu I pray you and beseech you, that yon will. 
 \Fxeunt Goiver and Flueilen. 
 
 K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of fasliion, 
 There is much care and valour in this Welshman. 
 
 Enter Bates, Court, and Williams. 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn- 
 ng, which breaks yonder? 
 
 Bates, i think it be : but we have no great cause 
 
 desire the approach of day. 
 
 Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day, 
 ut, I think, we shall never see the end of it. — 
 Who goes there ? 
 
 K. Hen. A friend. 
 
 Will. Under what coptain serve you . 
 
 K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Eipiugham. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
 gentleman : I pray you what thinks he of our estate V 
 
 K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
 look to be washed oft' the next tide. 
 
 Baien. He hath not told his thought to the king ? 
 
 K. Hen. No ; nor it is not meet he should. I'or, 
 
 though I speak it to you, I think, the king is hirt x 
 man, as I am: the violet smells to him, as it doth 
 to me ; the element shows to him, as it doth to m*,* 
 all his senses have but human conditions: his cere- 
 monies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a 
 'man ; and though his affections are higher mounted 
 than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the 
 like wing ; therefore, when he sees reason of fears, 
 as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same 
 relish as ours are: Yet, in reason, no man should 
 possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, 
 by showing it, should dishearten his army. 
 
 Bates. He may show what outward courage he 
 will: but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 
 wish himself in the Thames up to the neck ; and so 
 I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, 
 so we were quit here. 
 
 K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
 of the king ; I think, he vvoula not wish himscV 
 any where but where he is. 
 
 Bates. Tlien.'would he were here alotio ;so shoold 
 he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's 
 lives saved. 
 
 K. Hen. I daresay, yon love him not so ill, to wis'n 
 him nere alone; howsoever you s eak this, to feel 
 other men's minds: Methiuks, I could ri-jt die any 
 where so contented, as in the king's company ; hii« 
 cause beiiigjust, and his quarrel honoinable. 
 
 Will. That's more than we know. 
 
 Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after, 
 for we know enough, if we know we are the king's 
 subjects; if his cause be wrong, <iur obedience to 
 the king wipes the crime of it out of us. 
 
 Will. But, if the cause be not good, the king him- 
 self hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all those 
 legs, and arms, and hands, chopped off in a battle, 
 shall join together at the latter day, and cry all — 
 We died at such place; some, swearing; some, 
 crying for a surgeon ; some, upon tlieir wues left 
 poor behind them ; some, upon the debts they owe; 
 some, upon their children rawly left. I am alearj 
 there are few die well, that die in battle ; for how 
 can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood 
 is their argument ^ Now, if these men ilo not die 
 well, it will be a black matter for the king, that led 
 them to it ; wliom to disobey, were against all jjro- 
 portion of subjection. 
 
 K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent 
 about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the 
 sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rules, 
 should be imposed u|)on his father, that sent him ; 
 or if a servant, under his master's command, trans- 
 porting a surn of money, be assailed by robbers, and 
 die in many irreconiiled iniquities, you may call the 
 business of the master the author of the servant's 
 damnation : — But this is not so : the king is not bound 
 to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the 
 lather of his son, nor the master of his servant; for 
 they purpose not their death, when thev purpose 
 their services. Besides, there is no king, be his 
 cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrenient 
 ofsvvords, can try it out with all unspoited soldiers. 
 Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of pre- 
 medited and contrived murders; some, of beguiling 
 virgins with the broken seals of perjury ; some, mak- 
 ing the wars their bulwark, that ha^e bel'ore gored 
 the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robhery 
 Now, if these men have defeated tlie law, and onlrun 
 native punishment, though tliey ran outstrip men, 
 they have no wings to fiy from God: war is his 
 beadle, war is his vengeance ; so that here men are 
 punished, for befbre-breach of the king's laws, in now 
 the king's quarrel : where they feared the death, they 
 have borne life away ; and, where they would be 
 safe, they perish. Then if they di<^ unprovided, no 
 more is the king guilty of their damnation, than he 
 was before guilty of those impieties for the which 
 they are now visited. Every subject's duty is the 
 king's ; but every subject's soul is his own. There- 
 fore should every soldier in the wars do as every aick 
 
884 
 
 KING HENRY V 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 man in his bed, wash every mote out of his con- 
 science ; and dying so, death is to hirn advantage ; 
 ornotdyins, the time was blessedly lost, wherein 
 «uch preparation was gained : and in him that es- 
 capes, it were not sin to think, that making God so 
 free an offer, he let him outlive that diiy to see his 
 greatness, and to teach others how they should 
 prepare. 
 
 IVi/l. " Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the 
 ill is upon his own head, the king is not to answer 
 lor it. 
 
 Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me ; 
 and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. 
 
 K. Hen. I myself heard the king say, he would 
 not be ransomed. 
 
 Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully : 
 but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransonied, 
 and we ne'er the wiser. [word alter. 
 
 K.Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his 
 
 Will. ' Mass, you'll pay him then ! TL=)t's a peril- 
 ous shot out of an elder gun, a poor and private 
 displeasure can do against a monarch ! you may as 
 well go about to turn the sun to ice, with fanning in 
 bis fiice with a peacock's leather. You'll never 
 trust his word after ! come, tis a foolish saying. 
 
 K.Hen. Your reproof is something too round ; 
 I should be angry with you, if the time were con- 
 venient. 
 
 Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. 
 
 K. Hen. I embrace it. 
 
 Will. How shall I know thee again ? 
 
 K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will 
 wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest ac- 
 knowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. 
 
 Will, fferes my glove ; give me another of thine. 
 
 K. Hen. There. 
 
 Will. This will I also wear in my cap ; if ever 
 thou come to me and say, after to-morrow, This is 
 my glove, by this hand, I will take thee a box on 
 
 K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. 
 Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. 
 K. Hen. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in 
 die king's company. 
 
 Will. Keep thy word : fare thee well. 
 Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends : 
 we have French quarrels enough, if you could tell 
 isovv to reckon. 
 
 K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty 
 French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they 
 bear them on their slwulders : But it is no English 
 treason, to cut French crowns ; and, to-morrow, tiie 
 king himself will be a clipper. [Exeunt Soldiers. 
 Upon the king ! let us our lives, our souls. 
 Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and 
 Our sins, lay on the king ;— we must bear all. 
 O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness. 
 Subjected to the breath of every fool, 
 Wliose sense no more on feel but his own wringing! 
 What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect. 
 That private men enjoy ? 
 
 And what have kings, that privates have not too, 
 Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? 
 And what art thou, thou idol ceremony i 
 What kind of god art thou, thdt suffer'st more 
 Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers ? 
 What are thy rents ? what are thy connngs-in ? 
 O ceremony, show me but thy worth ! 
 
 What is the soul of adoration? 
 
 Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 
 
 treating awe and i'ear in other men :" 
 
 Wherein thon art less happy, being fear'd 
 
 Than they in fearing. 
 
 What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet. 
 
 But poison'd flattery V O, be sick, great greatness. 
 
 And bid thy ceremony give thee cure ! 
 
 Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out 
 
 With titles blown i'n.>ni adulation ? 
 
 Will it give place to fl-exure and low bending ? 
 
 Canst thou, when thou coinmand'st the btggur s knee. 
 
 Command the healtli of it? No, fhoupri"'! dr.ani 
 
 'I'hat play'st so subtly with a king's repose ; 
 
 I am a king, that find thee ; and I know, 
 
 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball. 
 
 The sword, the nmce, the crown imperial, 
 
 The enter-tissiied robe of gold and pearl. 
 
 The farced title running ' fore the king. 
 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
 
 That beats upon the high shore of this world. 
 
 No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremoijy, 
 
 Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 
 
 Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 
 
 Who with a body till'd, and vacant mind, 
 
 Gels him to rest, cramm'd with distrf ssfiil bread ; 
 
 Never sees horrid night, the child of hell : 
 
 But, like a lackey, from the rise to set. 
 
 Sweats in the eye of Phcebus, and all night 
 
 Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn, 
 
 Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse . 
 
 And follows so the ever-running year 
 
 With profitable labour, to his grave : 
 
 And, but for ceremony, such a wr-etch, 
 
 Winding up days with toil, and nights withf'eep. 
 
 Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. 
 
 The slave, a member of the country's peace, 
 
 Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots. 
 
 What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace. 
 
 Whose hours the peasant best advantages. 
 
 Enter Erpinciiam. 
 
 Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab- 
 Seek through your camp to find you. [sence, 
 
 K. Hen. Good old knight. 
 
 Collect them all together at ray tent: 
 I'll be before thee. 
 
 Erp. I shall do't, my lord. [Exit 
 
 K. Hen. O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' 
 hearts ! 
 Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
 The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them .'—Not to-day, O Lord, 
 
 not to day, tMnk not upon the fault 
 My father made in compassing the crown I 
 
 1 Richard's body have interred new ; 
 
 And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, 
 Than from it issued forced drops of blood. 
 Five hundred poor I have in yearly nay. 
 Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 
 Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have built 
 Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
 Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do : 
 Though all that I can do, is nothing worth ; 
 Since that my penitence conies alter all. 
 Imploring pardon. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. My liege ! 
 
 K. Hen. My brother GlosteHs voice ? — .^y; 
 
 I know thy errand, I will go with thee : — 
 The day, my friends, and all things .stay for me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IL— T/<e French Camp. 
 Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and others. 
 Orl. The sun doth aild our armour ; up, my 
 
 lords. " [9"«'y / lia • 
 
 Dau. Monte z a cJieval .-—My horse I valet ! lac 
 Orl. O brave spirit ! 
 Dau. Via I les eaux et la ierre^ 
 Orl. Rien puis ! lair et le feu— 
 Dau. Ciel ! cousin Orleans. — 
 
 Enter Constable. 
 
 Now, my lord Constable ! 
 
 Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service 
 neigh. . J hides; 
 
 Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their 
 That their iiot blood may spin in English eyes, 
 And dout them with superfluous courage : Hal 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 885 
 
 Ram. What, will you have them weep onr 
 horses' blood ? 
 How shall we then behold their natural tears ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. The English are embattled, you French 
 peers. [ horse ! 
 
 Con. To horse, you gallant princes ! straigiit to 
 Do but behold you poor aud starved band. 
 And your fair snow shall suck away their souls, 
 Leaving them but the shales and busks of men. 
 There is not work enough for all our hands ; 
 Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins. 
 To give each naked curtle-ax a stain, 
 That our French gallants shall to-day draw out. 
 And sheath for lack of sport : let us but blow on 
 
 them. 
 The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them 
 ' Tis positive ' gainst all exceptions, lords. 
 That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants, — 
 Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 
 About our squares of battle, — were enough 
 To purge this field of such a hilding foe ; 
 Though we, upon this mountain's basis by, 
 Took stand for idle speculation : 
 liut that our honours must not. What's to say i" 
 A very little little let us do, 
 And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound 
 The tucket-sonnancc, and the note to mount : 
 For our approach shall so much dare the field. 
 That England shall couch down in fear, and yield. 
 
 Enter Grandpre. 
 
 Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of 
 France ? 
 You island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
 I'll favour'dly become the morning field : 
 Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, 
 And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
 Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 
 And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
 Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks. 
 With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor jades 
 Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and iiips ; 
 The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ; 
 And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit 
 Lies foul with chewed grass, still and motionless; 
 And tlieir executors, the knavish crows. 
 Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. 
 D>'^criptioa cannot suit itself in words. 
 To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
 In life so lifeless as it shows itself 
 
 Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay 
 for death. [suits, 
 
 Datt. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh 
 And give their fasting horses provender. 
 And after fight with them ? 
 
 Con. I stay but for my guard ; On, to the field : 
 I will the banner from a trumpet take. 
 And use it for my haste. Come, come awav ! 
 The sun is high, and we outwear the day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II L — The English Camp. 
 Enter the Enr/lish Host; Gloster, Bedford, 
 Exeter, Salisbury, mid Westmoreland. 
 Glo. Where is the king';" 
 
 Bed. The king himself is rode to view their bat- 
 tle, [thousand. 
 West. Of fighting men they have full threescore 
 Exe. There's five to one ; besides, they all are 
 
 fresli. 
 Sal. God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful odds. 
 God be wi" you, princes all ; I'll to my charge; 
 If we no more meet, (ill we meet in heaven. 
 Then, joyfully, — my noble lord of Bedford, — • 
 My dear l.jrd Gloster, — aud my good lord Exeter, — 
 -And my kind kinsman, — '.varriors all, adieu ! 
 Bed. Farewell, good Sfilisbury ; and good luck 
 
 go with thee. 
 Exe. Farewell, kind lord ; fight valiantly to day: 
 
 A nd yet I do thee wrong, to mind lliee of it. 
 For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour. 
 
 [Exit SaluJvr^. 
 
 Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness : 
 Princely in both. 
 
 West. O that we now had here 
 
 Enter King Henry. 
 
 But one ten thousand of those men in England, 
 That do no work to-day ! 
 
 K. Hen. What's he that wishes so ? 
 
 My cousin Westmoreland ? — No, my fair cousin : 
 If we are marked to die, we are enough 
 To do our country loss; and if to live, 
 The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
 God's will ! 1 pray thee, wish not one man more 
 By Jove, I am not covetous for gold ; 
 Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost; 
 It yearns me not, if men my garments wear; 
 Such outward things dwell not in my desires: 
 But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England : 
 God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour. 
 As one man more, methinks. would share from me. 
 For the best hope I have O do not wish one 
 
 more : 
 Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host. 
 That he, who hath no stomach to this fight. 
 Let him depart; his passport shall be made. 
 And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
 We would not die in that man's company. 
 That fears his fellovvshiu to die with us. 
 'I'his day is call'd — the feast of Crispian : 
 He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd. 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian, 
 He, that shall live this day, and see old age. 
 Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends. 
 And say — to-morrow is Saint Crispian : 
 'I'hen will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, 
 And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day. 
 Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot. 
 But he'll remember, with advantages, 
 What feats he did that day : Then shall our namef> 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words, — 
 Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd : 
 This story shall the good man teach his son ; 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, 
 From this day to the ending of the world. 
 But we in it shall be remember'd: 
 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers , 
 For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 
 Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile. 
 This day sliall gentle his condition : 
 And gentlemen in England, now a-bed. 
 Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were uc»t 
 
 here ; 
 And hold their manhoods cheap, \yhile any speak, 
 That fought with us upon Saint Crispian's day, 
 
 En^er Salisbury. 
 
 Sa^. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with 
 speed : 
 The French are bravely in their battles set. 
 And will with all expedience charge on us, 
 
 K. Hen. AH things are ready, if our minds be so. 
 West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward 
 now ! [England, cousin ? 
 
 A'. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from 
 ff^est. God's will, my liege, would you and J 
 alone. 
 Without more help, might fight this battle out I 
 K. Hen. Why, now tlioo hast unwish'd fiye 
 thousand men ; 
 Which likes me better, than to wish us one.-^ 
 You know your places : God be with you ait ! 
 
 •2.) 
 
386 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 I^ket. Enter INIontjoy. 
 
 MdKi. Once more I cojiie to know of thee, king 
 Harry, 
 ff for thy raiisome thou wiit now compound, 
 Befcie thy most assured overthrow : 
 For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf, 
 Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, 
 Tlie Constable desires thee — thou wilt mind 
 'i'hy followers of repentance ; that their souls 
 May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
 Prom oif these tields, where (wretches) their poor 
 i\lnstlie and fester. " [bodies 
 
 K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now ? 
 
 Mont. The Constable of France. [back ; 
 
 K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer 
 Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. 
 Good CJod ! why should they mock poor fellows 
 The man, that once did sell the lion's skin [thus ? 
 VViiile tlie beast liv'd, waskill'd with huutinsj him. 
 A niaiiy of our bodies shall, no doubt, 
 Find native f.raves ; upon the which, I trust, 
 Sliall witness live in brass of this day's work : 
 And those, that leave their valiant bones in France, 
 Dying like msn, though buried in your dunghills, 
 'i'hey shall be fam'd: tor there the sun shall greet 
 
 them. 
 And 'Iraw tiieir honours reeking up to heaven ; 
 Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime. 
 The smell whereof shall breed a jilague in France. 
 IMark then a bounding valour incur English ; 
 'J'dat, b'iug dead, like to the bullet's grazing, 
 Bre.k .)ut into a second course of mischief. 
 Killing in relapse of mortality. 
 Let me speak proudly ; — Tell the Constable, 
 W't are but warriors for the working-day : 
 U'lr gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirch'd 
 With rainy marching in the painful field ; 
 'J'herf's not a piece of feather in our hosi, 
 (Goiid argiunent, I iiope, we shall not fly,) 
 And time hath worn us into slovenry : 
 But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim : 
 And my poor soldiers tell me — yet ere night 
 Tiiey'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck 
 'I'he gay new coats o'er the French soldiers" heads. 
 And turn them out of service. H they do this, 
 (As. if God please, they shall,) my ransome then 
 Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour ; 
 Come thou no more for ransome, gentle herald ; 
 Tiiey shall have none, I swear, but these my joints: 
 W hic.h if Ihey have as I will leave 'em to them, 
 Shall yield theiu little, tell the Constable. 
 
 Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well : 
 Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt ouce morft come again for 
 ransome. 
 
 Enter the Duke of York. 
 
 York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg 
 The leading of the vaward. 
 
 K. Hen. Take it, brave Vork. — Now, soldiers, 
 march away : — 
 And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IA^— The Field of Buttle. 
 
 Alarums. Excursions, Enter French Soldier, 
 Pistol, and Boy. 
 
 Pist. Yield, cur. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme 
 de honne qualite. 
 
 Pist. Quality, call you me? — Construe me, art 
 thou a gentleman ? What is thy name ? discuss. 
 
 Fr. Sol. seigneur Dieu ! 
 
 Pist. O signieur Dew should be a gentleman : — 
 Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark ; — 
 O si^Tiieur Dew, thou dieston point of fox, 
 Kicept O signieur, thou do give to me 
 Egregious ransome. [tnoy ! 
 
 Fr. Sol. O, jjrenez misericorde ! ayez pitie de 
 
 Pist. IVloy shall pot serve, I will have forfy moys: — 
 For I will I'efcli thy rim out at thy throat, 
 (n drops of ciinison blood. [de ton bras f 
 
 Fr. Sol. Est il impossible d'eschapper la force 
 
 Pist. Brass, cur ! 
 Thou damned and luxurious mountain Roat, 
 Olii'r'st me brass ? 
 
 Fr. Sol. pardonriez moy . 
 
 Pist. .Say'st thou me so':' is that a ton of moys ? 
 Come hither, boy ; Ask ine this slave in French, 
 What is his isame. 
 
 Bo//. Escoittez : Comment estes vous appellel 
 
 Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. 
 
 Boij. He says, his name is — master Fer. 
 
 Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him. and firic him, 
 and ferret him : — discuss the same in French unto 
 him. [and firk. 
 
 Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, 
 
 Pist. Bid him prepare, for 1 will cut his throat. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur 'I 
 
 Boy. II me commande de vous dire que vous 
 faites vous prest ; car ce soldat icy est dispose 
 tout a cette neure de coiiper vostre gorge. 
 
 Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, i)ar ma foy, pesant, 
 Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns ; 
 Or mansled slialt thou be by this my sworcK 
 
 Fr. Sol. 0, je vous siipplie jjour I'ainour de 
 Dieu, me pardomier ! Je suis gentilho7nme de 
 bonne maison ; gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai 
 deux cents ecus. 
 ■ Pist. What are his words ? 
 
 Boy. He prays you to save his life: he is a gen- 
 tleman of a good house; and, for his ransome, he 
 will give you two hundred crowns. 
 
 Pist. Tell him, — my fury shall abate, and I 
 The crowns will take. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Petit monsietir, que dit-il ? 
 
 Boy. Encore qu'il est conire son jurement, de 
 l^ardonncr aucun jjrisonnier ; neantmoins , pour 
 les escus que vous iavez promts, il est content de 
 vous doiiner la liberte, Iej'ranclnse7ne7it. 
 
 Fr Sold. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille 
 remerciemens : etje m'esiime heui^eux queje suis 
 tomhe entre les mains dun chevalier, je pense, le 
 plus brave, valiant, et tres distingue seigneur 
 d'Angleterre. 
 
 Pist. Ex[iound unto me, boy. 
 
 Boy. He gives you, upon his kness, a thousand 
 thanks; and he esteems himself happy that he hath 
 liillen iiilothe hands oi'(as bethinks) the most brave, 
 valorous, and trice- worthy signieur of England. 
 
 Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. — 
 Follow me. cur \_Exit Pistol. 
 
 Boy. Suivez vous le grand rapitnine. 
 
 [Exit Freyich Soldier. 
 I did never know so full a voice issue from so 
 empty a heart: but the saying is true, — The emptv 
 vessel makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, ana 
 Nym, had ten times more valour than this roaring 
 devil i'the old play, that every one may pare hia 
 nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both 
 hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any 
 thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, 
 with the luggage of our camp: the French might 
 have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is 
 none to guard it, but boys. [Exit. 
 
 Sc¥.^e\.— Another Part of the Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarums. iJn/er DAUPfflN, Orleans, Bolkbon, 
 
 Constable, Rambukes, and others. 
 
 Con. Odiable! [perdu 1 
 
 Orl. O seigneur I — le jour est perdu, tout est 
 
 Dau. Mort de inavie! all is confounded, all ! 
 
 Reproach and everlasting shame 
 
 .Sits mocking in ourplumes.— O meschante fortune ! 
 
 Do not run away. (^ short alarum.) 
 
 Con. Why, all our ranks are broke. 
 
 Dau. O perdurable shame !— let's stab ourselves. 
 
 Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for? 
 Ori Is this the king we sent to for Lis ransome ? 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 KING HENRY V 
 
 387 
 
 Bonr. Shame, and eternal slianie, notling hut 
 shame ! 
 Let (11 (lie instant : Once more bnck aijain ; 
 .•And he that will not follow Buiiilmn now, 
 i.tt him go hence, and, wit:i iiis ca|> in liaiid, 
 Like a base pander, liold tlie rh;iniher-<loor, 
 Wliilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, 
 His I'airest dangiiter is ccmta ninate. 
 
 Coil. Disorder, that hath spoil'd ns, fri-nd ns now ! 
 [jet ns. in heaps, go olVtr i;p onr lives 
 Unto these Englisli. or else die with i'anie._ 
 
 Orl. We are eno' g^i, yet living in the Held, 
 'I'o sniutlier np the [in-lish in onr throngs. 
 If any order might be thonglit npon. [throng ; 
 
 Bour. T lie devil take order now I I'll to the 
 Let life be short; else, shame will be too long. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VL — Another Part of the Field. 
 £.larums. Enter Kin y He'sry and Forces ; Exe- 
 ter, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant 
 countrymen : 
 Cut all's not done, yet keep the French the field. 
 
 Exe. The dnke of York commends him to your 
 majesty. [this hour, 
 
 K. Hen. Lives he, good nncle ? thrice, within 
 I saw him down ; thrice up again, and lighting; 
 tVom helmet to the spur, all blood he was. 
 
 Exe. In which array, (brave soldier,) doth he lie^ 
 Larding the plain: and by his bloody side, 
 (Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,) 
 The noble earl of Suffolk also lies. 
 Snlfolk first died : and York, all haggled over, 
 Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd. 
 And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes. 
 That bloodily did yawn npon his face ; 
 And cries alund, — Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk ! 
 My soul shall thine keep compnuy to heaven : 
 Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, tkenjly, a-breast ; 
 As. in this tjlorious and ivell-fouyhleii field, 
 TVe kept to'jether in our chivalry ! 
 Upon these words I came, and clieer'd him np . 
 He smil'd me in the face, rau^lit me his hand. 
 And, with a feeble gripe, says — Dear my lord. 
 Commend my service to my sovereign .' 
 So did he turn, and over Snftolk's neck. 
 lie threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips ; 
 And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
 A testament of noble-ending 1(>\ e. 
 'J'lie pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 
 Those waters from me, which I would havestopp'd ; 
 Hut I had not so much of man in me, 
 But all my mother came into my eyes. 
 And gave me up to tears. 
 
 A. Hen. I blame you not ; 
 
 For, hearing th's, I must perforce compound 
 With mistfuleyes, or they will issue too. — {Alarum.) 
 Bat, hark ! what new alarum is this same ? — 
 The French have reinforo'd their scatter'd men : — 
 Then every soldier kill his prisoners ; 
 Oive the word through. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene VII. — Another Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Fluellen and Gower. 
 
 Flu. Kill the poysand the luggage ! "tis expressly 
 against the law of arms : "tis as arrant a piece of 
 knavery, mark you now, as can be olfered in the 
 'orld : In your conscience now, is it not? 
 
 Goiv. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; 
 and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, 
 have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned 
 and carried away all that was in the king's tent ; 
 wherefore the king, most worthily, bath caused 
 ^very soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a 
 gallant king ! 
 
 Flu. Ay, he was poru at Alontmouth, capttain 
 Gower: What call you the town's name, wiiere 
 Alexander the pig was porn? 
 
 Gow, Alexander the great 
 
 Fht. Why, I pray yon, is not pig, great? The 
 pig, or (he great, or the mighty, or tiie huge, or th< 
 magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the 
 l)hrase is a little variations. 
 
 (ioiv. I think, Alexander the great was bom in 
 Macedon ; his father was called Philip of Macedon, 
 as I take it. 
 
 Flu. I think, it is in Macedon, where Alexander 
 is porn. I tell you, captain, — If you look in the 
 maps of the 'orld, I warrant, you shall find, in the 
 comparisons between Macedon and iMonmouth, that 
 the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a 
 river in JMacedon ; and there is also moreover a river 
 at Monmouth : it is called Wye, at Monmouth; but 
 it is out of my prains, what is the name of the other 
 river : but 'tis all one, 'tis so like as my fingers is to 
 my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you 
 mark Alexander's life well, Harry <if Monmouth's life 
 is come after it indifferent well ; for there is figures 
 in all things. Alexander (God knows, and you 
 know,) in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, 
 and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, 
 and his indignations, and also being a little intoxi- 
 cates in his [jrains. did, in his ales and his angers, 
 look you, kill his pest iriend, Clytus. 
 
 Gon\ Our king is not like him in that; he never 
 killed any of his friends. 
 
 Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take 
 tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and 
 finished. I speak but in the figures and compari 
 sons of it : As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, 
 being in his ales and his cups ; so also Harry Mon- 
 mouth, being in his right wits and his goot judg- 
 ments, is turn away the fat knight with the great 
 pelly-doublet : he was full of jests, and gipes, and 
 knaveries, and mocks ; I am forget his name. 
 
 Gow. Sir John Falstaft". 
 
 jFy?<.That is he : I can tell you, there is goot men 
 porn at Monmouth. 
 
 Goiv. Here comes his majesty. 
 
 Alarmn. Enter King Henry with a part of the 
 English Forces ; \V ARWiCK, Gloster, Exeter. 
 and others. 
 
 K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to France, 
 Until this instant. — Take a trumpet, herald ; 
 Ride thou unto the hor.oemen on yon hill ; 
 If they will fight with ns, bid them come down, 
 Or void the field ; they do olfend our sight : 
 If they'll do neither, we will come to them ; 
 And make them skirr away, as swift as stones 
 Enforced from the old Assyrian slings : 
 Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have; 
 And not a man of them, that we shall take. 
 Shall taste our mercy: — Go, and tell them so. 
 
 Enter Montjov. 
 
 Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my 
 liege. 
 
 Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be. 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what means this, herald? 
 know'st thou not, 
 That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransome? 
 Com'st them again for ransome ? 
 
 Mont. No, great king : 
 
 I come to thee for charitable license. 
 That we may wander o'er this bloody field. 
 To book our dead, and then to bury them ; 
 To sort out nobles from our common men ; 
 For many of our princes (woe the while!) 
 Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood ; 
 (So do onr vulgar drench their (leasant limbs 
 In blond of princes;) and their wounded fteeds 
 Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage, 
 Yerk out their aimed heels at their dead masters. 
 Killing them twice. O, give us leave, gieat king, 
 To view the field in saiety, and dispose 
 Of their dead bodies. 
 
 K. Hen. I tell thee truly, herald 
 
 I knovv not if the day be ours, or no : 
 
S88 
 
 KING HENRY Y. 
 
 Act 1Y. 
 
 for yet a many of your horsemen peer 
 And gallop o'er tlie field. 
 
 Mont. The day is yours. [for it! — 
 
 K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength. 
 What is this castle cail'd, that stands hard by? 
 
 Mont Tliey call it — Agincourt. 
 
 K. Hen. Then call we this — the field of Agin- 
 Fotinht on the day of Crispin Crispianus. [court, 
 
 Fill. Your grandfather of famous memory, ant 
 
 please your majesty, and your great-uncle Ed.vaid 
 
 the plack prince of Wales, as 1 have read in the 
 
 hronicles, fought a most prave pattie here in 
 
 K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. [Fiance. 
 
 Flu. Your majesty says very true : if your ma- 
 jesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did goot 
 service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing 
 leeks in their [VIonmouth caps; which, your majesty 
 knows, to this hour is an honourable padge ot the 
 service; and, I do believe, your majesty takes no 
 scorn to wear the leek upon .Saint 'I'avy's day. 
 
 K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour; 
 For J am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 
 
 Flu. All the water in \V'ye caimot wash your 
 majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell 
 yon that : tjot pless it and preserve it, as long as it 
 pleases his grace, and his majesty too! 
 
 K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 
 
 Flu. By Chesii, 1 am your luajesty's countryman, 
 I care not who know it; I will confess it to all the 
 'orld : 1 need not to be ashamed of your majesty, 
 praised be God, so long as your majesty is an ho- 
 nest man. [him ; 
 
 K. Hen. God keep jne so ! — Our heralds go with 
 Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
 On both our prrts. — (Jail yonder fellow hither. 
 
 [Points to Williams. E.xcunt Montjoy 
 and others. 
 
 Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king. 
 
 K. Hen. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glo\e in 
 thy cap :" 
 
 Will. A n't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of 
 one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. 
 
 K. Hen. An Englishman V 
 
 Will. An't please your majesly, a rascal, that 
 swaggered with me last night: who, if 'a live, and 
 ever daie to challenge this glove, I have sworn to 
 take him a box o'the ear : or, if I can see my glove 
 in his cap, (which he swore, as he was a soldier, he 
 would wear, if alive), I will strike it out soundly. 
 
 K. Hen. What tliink yon, captain Fluellen? is it 
 fit this siihller keep his oath ? 
 
 Flu. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please 
 your majesty, in my conscience. 
 
 K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of 
 great sort, quite from the answer of his degree. 
 
 Flu. Though he be as goot a gentleman as the tevil 
 is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is neces- 
 sary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his 
 oath; il'he be jjerjured, see you now, his reputation 
 is as arrant a villain, and a Jack-saiice, as ever liis 
 plack shoe trod upon Got's ground and his earth, in 
 my conscience, la. 
 
 K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou 
 nieet'st the fellow. 
 
 Will. So I will, my liege, as I live. 
 
 K. Hen. Who servest thou under l' 
 
 Will. Under captain Gower, my liege. 
 
 Flu. Guwer is a goot captain ; and is goot know- 
 ledge and iiti-rature in the wars. 
 
 K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. 
 
 Will. I will, my liege. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, Fuiellen: wear thou this faxour 
 for nie, and stick it in tliy cap ; When Alencou and 
 myself were down together, I plucked tins glove 
 from his helm : if any man challenge this, he is a 
 friend to Alencon am! am enemy to our person ; if 
 thou encounter any suci', appi-ehend him, an thou 
 dost love me. 
 
 Flu. Your grace does me as great honours ,is can 
 be desired in the hearts of his subjects ; 1 would 
 
 fai.i sue the man, that has but two legs, thnt shall 
 find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all ; but 
 I would fain see it once ; an please Got of his grace, 
 that I might see it. 
 
 K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower? 
 
 Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. 
 
 K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring hini 
 to my tent. 
 
 Flu. I will fetch him. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. ]My lord of Warwick, and my brother 
 Follow Fluellen closely at the heels : [Gloster, 
 
 The glove, which I have given him for a fiivotir. 
 May, haply, purchase him a box o'the ear; 
 It is the soldier's ; I, by bargain, should 
 Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick: 
 If that the soldier strike hiin, (as, 1 judge 
 By his blunt bearing, he will keej) his word,) 
 Some sudden mischief may arise of it; 
 L'or I do kno\v Fluellen valiant. 
 And, touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder. 
 And quickly will return an injury : 
 Follow, and see there be no harm between them.— 
 Go you with me, uncle ofFIxeter. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene VIII. — Before King Henrys Pavilion. 
 
 Enter GowER and Williams. 
 Will. I warrant, it is to knight you, captain. 
 
 Enter Fluellen. 
 
 Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I pe- 
 seech you now, come apace to the king : there is 
 more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in 
 your knowledge to dream of. 
 
 Will. Sir, know you tliis glove ? fglove. 
 
 Flu. Know the glove ? 1 know, the glove is a 
 
 Will. I know this; and thus I challenge it. 
 
 {Slrilces him.) 
 
 Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant traitor, as any s in the uni- 
 versal 'orld, or in France, or in England. 
 
 Goiv. How now, sir? you villain? 
 
 Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn? 
 
 Fill. Stand away, captain Gower; I will give 
 treason his payment into plows, I warrant you. 
 
 Will. I am no traitor. 
 
 Flu. That's a lie in thy throat. — I charge you in 
 his majesty's name, apprehend him ; he's a friend of 
 the duke Aleii9on's. 
 
 Enter Warwick and Glostek. 
 
 War. How now, how now! what's the matter? 
 
 Flu. IVIy lord of Warwick, here is (praised be 
 Got for it!) a most contagious treason come to light, 
 look you, as you shall desire in a summer's ^ay. 
 Here is his majesty. 
 
 Enter King IIenby ««</ Exeter. 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Flu. IMy liege, here is a villain, and a traitor, that, 
 look your grace, has struck the glove, which your 
 majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon. 
 
 Will. My liege, this was my glove ; here is the 
 fellow of it : and he, that I ga\e it to in change, pro- 
 mised to wear it in his cap; I promised to strike him, 
 if he did : I met this man with my glove in his cap, 
 and I have been as good as my word. 
 
 Flu. Your majesty hear now, (saving your ma- 
 jesty's manhood,) what an arrant, rascally, beg- 
 garly, lousy knave it is : I hope, your majesty is pear 
 me festimo'ny, and witness, and avouchments, that 
 tliis is the gUne of Alencon, that your majesty is 
 give me, in your conscience now. 
 
 K Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier ; Look, here 
 is the fellow ol'it. 'Tvvas I, indeed, thou promised'st 
 to strike ; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. 
 
 Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer 
 for it, if there is any martial law in the "orld. 
 
 K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction? 
 
 Will All offences, my liege, come from the heart- 
 never came any from mine, that might otl'eud yout 
 majesty. 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 389 
 
 K. Hen. It was onrself thon ditlst abuse 
 
 Tf-'iV/. Y'oiir majesty cai'ie not like yourself: yon 
 appearetl to me but as a coiTimori man : witness the 
 niglit, your (larnients. your lowhness ; and what your 
 Jiiijhness siiH'ered under that shape, I beseech you, 
 take it for your own fault, and not mine : for had you 
 ueeii us I took you for, I made no olFence ; therefore, 
 < ht'seech your highness, pardon me. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with 
 crowns, 
 A nd give it (o tiiis fellow. -Keep it, fellow ; 
 And wear it for an hono^ir in thy cap, 
 Till 1 do challenge it. — Give him the crowns: — 
 And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. 
 
 F/u. By this day and this light, the fellow has 
 mettle enough iu his pelly : — Hold, there is twelve 
 pence for you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep 
 you outof prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and 
 dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the petter tor 
 
 Wi/l. I will none of your money. [you. 
 
 Flu. It is vvitli a goot will ; I can tell you, it will 
 ■serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherefore 
 should you be so pashl\il ? your shoes is not so goot: 
 'tis a goot Silling, I warrant you, or 1 will change it. 
 Enter an English Herald. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, herald ; are the dead number'd ? 
 
 Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd 
 French. {Delivers a paper.) 
 
 K. Hen. VVhat prisoners of good sort are taken, 
 uncle i 
 
 Exe. diaries duke of Orleans, nephew to the king ; 
 John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt; 
 Of other lords, and barons, kmglits, and squires, 
 full fifteen himdted, besides common men. [French, 
 
 K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten thousand 
 Tliat iu the field iie slain : of princes, in this number. 
 And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
 One hundred twenty-six : added to these. 
 Of knights, esquires and gallant gentlemen. 
 Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which, 
 Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: 
 So that, in these ten thousand llit-y have lost, 
 ^J'here are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; 
 I'he rest are — princes, Karons, lords, knights. 
 And gentlemen of blood and quality. ['squires, 
 
 The names of those their nobles that lie dead, — 
 Charles De-ia-bret, high constable of France; 
 Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France ; 
 The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures; 
 Great-master of France, the brave sir Guischard 
 
 Dauphin ; 
 John duke of Alencon ; Antony duke of Brabant, 
 The brother to the duke of Burgundy; 
 And Edward duke of Bar : of lusty earls, 
 Gratidpre, and Roussi, P'aucomberg, and Foix, 
 Beaumont, and Marie, Vaudeniout, and Lestrale. 
 Here was a royal fellowship of death ! — 
 Where is the number of our English dead ? 
 
 {Herald presents another paper.) 
 Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk, 
 Sir Richard K.etle5% Davy Gam, esquire : 
 None else of name ; and of all other men, 
 But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here, 
 And not to us, but to thy arm alone, 
 Ascribe we all. — When, without stratagem, 
 But iu iilain shock, and even play of battle, 
 Was ever known so great and little loss, 
 Ou one part and on th' other? — 'I'ake it, God, 
 i'or it is only thine! 
 
 F.x(i. 'Tis wonderful ! 
 
 K. Hen. Come, go we in i)rocession to the village : 
 .\nd be it death proclaimed through our host, 
 To boast of this, or take that jiraise from God, 
 \\ liicii is his only. 
 
 Flu. is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to 
 tell liow in;iiiy is killed? [ledgment, 
 
 K. Hen. \ es, captain; but with thi.* acknow- 
 Vhat God fought fur us. 
 
 Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot 
 
 K. Hen. Do we all holy rites ; 
 
 Let there be snng Son nobis, and Te Dettnt 
 The dead with charity enclos'd in clay, 
 VVe"ll then to Calais ; and to England then ; 
 Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 ACT V. 
 Enter C/iorus. [stoi-y, 
 
 C/io. Vouchsafe to those, th:it have not read the 
 That I may prompt them : and i.f such as have, 
 I humbly pray Ihem to admit the excuse 
 Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, 
 Wliich cannot in their hu;:e and proper life 
 Be here presented. Now we bear the king 
 Towards Calais : grant him tliere ; there seen. 
 Heave him away upon your winged thoughts. 
 Athwart the sea : Behold, the English beach 
 Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys, 
 Whose shouts and claps outvoice the deep-mouth'd 
 Which, like a mighty whifiler 'fore the king, [sea, 
 Seems to prepare his way : so let him land. 
 And solemnly, see him set on to London. 
 So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 
 You may imagine him upon Blackheath : 
 Where that his lords desire him, to have borne 
 His bruised helmet, and his bended .sword, 
 Belbre him, through the city : he forbids it. 
 Being free from vainness and self-glorions pride, 
 Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent. 
 Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, 
 In the quick forge and working-house of thought, 
 How London doth pour out her citizens 1 
 The raayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, — 
 Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
 With the plebeians swarming at tlie'r heels, — 
 Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cassar in; 
 As, by a lower but by loving likelihood, 
 Were now the general of our gracious empress 
 (As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland coming. 
 Bringing rebellion broached on his sword. 
 How many would the peaceful city quit, 
 To welcome him ? much more, and much more cause, 
 Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; 
 f As yet the lamentation of the French 
 Invites the king of England's stay at home : 
 The emperor's coming in behalf of France, 
 To order peace between them ;) and omit 
 All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd. 
 Till Harry's back-return again to France ; 
 I'here must we bring him; and myself have })lay'<l 
 The interim, by remembering you — 'tis |)ast. 
 Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advan<;e 
 After your thoughts, straight back again to Fr«nce 
 
 I Exit. 
 Scene I. — France. An English Court of Guard. 
 Enter Fluellen and Govver. 
 
 Goiv. Nay, that's right : but why wear you your 
 leek to-day V Saint Davy's day is past. 
 
 Flu. There is occasions and causes why and 
 wherefore iu all things : I will tell you as my iiiend, 
 captain Gower;The rascally, scald, beggarly, iousy, 
 pragging knave. Pistol, — which you and yourself, 
 and all the 'orld, know to be no petter than a fellow, 
 look you now, of no merits, — he is come to me, 
 and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, 
 and bid me eat my leek : it was in a place where / 
 could not breed no contentions witii him; but 1 
 will be so pold as to wear it in my cap, till I see him 
 once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of 
 my desires. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Gow. Why, here he conies, swelling like a tur- 
 key cock. 
 
 Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his 
 turkey-cocks.— Got pless you, ancient Pistol I you 
 scurvy, lousy knave, Got pless you ! 
 
 Pist. Ha ! art thou Beldam V Dost thou thirst, base 
 To haep me fold uij Parca's fatal web 1 [Trojan^ 
 Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 
 
 Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, louHy knavr 
 
390 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 at my desires, ana my requests, and ray petitions, 
 to eat, look you, this leekj because, look you, you 
 do not love it, nor your affections, and your appe- 
 tites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I 
 would desire you to eat it. 
 
 Plst. Not for Cadwallader, and all his jfoats. 
 
 Flu. There is one goat for you. ( Strikes him.) 
 Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it? 
 
 Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. 
 
 Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got's 
 will is : I will desire you to live in the mean time, 
 and eat your \ictiials; come, there is sauce for it. 
 {Striking him again.) You called me yesterday, 
 Ciiountain-squire ; but I will make you to-day a squire 
 of low degree. I pray you, fall to ; if you can mock 
 a leek, you can eat a leek. 
 
 Goto. Enongh, captain ; you have astonished him. 
 
 Flu. I say, 1 will make him eat some part of my 
 leek, or I will peat his [)ate four days : — Pile, I pray 
 yon ; it is goot lor your green woimd, and your 
 
 Pint. Mast I bite ? [ploody coxcomb. 
 
 Flu. Yes, certainly ; and out of doubt, and out 
 of questions too, and ambiguities. 
 
 Pist. By tiiis leek, I will most horribly revenge ; 
 I eat, and eke I swear — 
 
 Flu. Eat, I pray you : Will you have some more 
 sauce to your let k '! there is not enough leek to 
 swear by. 
 
 Pist. Quiet thy cudgel ; thou dost see, I eat. 
 
 Flu. Much gcot do you, scald knave, heartily. 
 Nay, 'pray you, tlirow none away ; the skin is goot 
 for your proken coxcomb. When you take occa- 
 sions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at 
 
 Pist. Good. _ [them ; that is all. 
 
 Flu. Ay, leeks is goot: — Hold yon, there is a 
 
 Pist. Me a groat! [fiioat to ileal your pate. 
 
 Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth, you sliail lake it ; or 
 [ have anotlier leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. 
 
 Pisf. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 
 
 Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in 
 fiidgfls; you shall be a woodmonger, anil buy no 
 thing <if me but cudgels. God be wi' yon, and keep 
 Villi, and heal your pate. [Exit. 
 
 Pist. All hell shall stir for this. 
 
 Goto. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly 
 knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, — be- 
 gun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a me- 
 morable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare 
 not avouch in your deeds any of your words "' I 
 have seen you gleeking and galling at this gt-i^tle- 
 nian twice or thrice. You thought, because he 
 coidd not speak English in the native garb, he 
 could not therefore handle an Englise cudgel : you 
 find it otherwise; and, henceforth, let a Wt-lsh 
 correction teach you a good English condition. Fare 
 ye well. _ _ 'E.xit 
 
 Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now ? 
 News have 1, that my Nell is dead i' the spital 
 Of malady of France ; 
 And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. 
 Old I do wax ; and fnmi my weary limbs 
 Honour is cudgelPd. Well, bawd will I turn. 
 And something lean to cuti)urse of quick hand. 
 To England will I .steal, and there I'll steal : 
 And patches will 1 get unto these scars. 
 And swear, I got tlieni in the Gallia wars. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Troyes in Champagne. An Apartment 
 in the French Kings Palace. 
 
 Enter at one door, King Henky, Bedford, Glos- 
 TER, Exeter, VV.\rwick, W^estmok eland, 
 and other Lords ; at another, the French King, 
 Queen Is.iBEL, the frmcess Kahiakine, Lords, 
 Ladies, ^c. the Duke of BURGUNDY, and his 
 Train. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are 
 met I 
 Unto ourbiother France, — and to or.r sister, 
 Health and fiir time of day : — joy and good wishes 
 To our most faif and princely cousin Katharine ; 
 
 And (as a branch and member of this royalty. 
 
 By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,) 
 
 We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ; — 
 
 And, princes French, and peers, health to you all. 
 
 Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your face. 
 Most worthy brother England ; fairly met : — 
 So are yon, princes English, every one. 
 
 Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother England, 
 Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting. 
 As we are now glad to behold your eyes ; 
 Your eye.*!, which hitherto have borne in them 
 Against the French, that met them in their bent. 
 The fatal balls of murdering basilisks : 
 The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, 
 Have lost their quality; and that this day 
 Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love. 
 
 K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear. 
 
 Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you. 
 
 liur. My duty to you both, on equal love. 
 Great kings of France and England ! That I have 
 
 labour'd 
 With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours. 
 To bring your most imperial majesties 
 Unto this bar and royal inter\ie\v. 
 Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. 
 Since then my office hath so far pre\aird. 
 That, face to face, and royal eye to eye. 
 You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me. 
 If I demand, before this royal \iew, 
 What rub, or what impediment, there is. 
 Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace. 
 Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births. 
 Should not, in this best garden of the world. 
 Our fertile France, put up her lovely xisage ? 
 Alas ! she hath from France too long been chas'd 
 And all her liusbandry doth lie on heaps 
 Corrupting in its own fertility. 
 Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
 Unpruned dies : her hedges even-pleached, — 
 Like prisoners wildly o\er-grown with hair. 
 Put forth disorder'd twigs : her fallow leas 
 The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory. 
 Doth root u[;on; while that the coulter rusts. 
 That should df-racinate such savagery : 
 T.he even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
 The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover. 
 Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank. 
 Conceives by idleness ; and nothing teems, 
 But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs. 
 Losing both beauty and utility. 
 And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges. 
 Defective in their natures, grow to wildness ; 
 Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children. 
 Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time, 
 J'he sciences that should become our country ; 
 But grow, like savages, — as soldiers will. 
 That nothing do but meditate on blood, — 
 To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire. 
 And every thing that seems unnatural. 
 Which to reduce into our former favour. 
 You are assembled : and my speech entreats. 
 That I may know the let, why gentle peace 
 Should not expel these incoineniences. 
 And bless us with her former qualities. *fpearc, 
 
 K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you wSTild the 
 W hose want gives growth to the imperfections 
 Which you have cited, you must buy tli.it peace 
 With full accord to all our just demands; 
 Whose tenours and particular etTects 
 You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your bands. 
 
 Bur. The king hath heard them; to the which. 
 There is no answer made. [as yet, 
 
 K. Hen. Well then, the peace. 
 
 Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer. 
 
 Fr. Ki7ig. I have but with a cursorary eye 
 O'er-glanc'd the articles ; pleaseth your grace 
 'i'o appoint Some of your council presently 
 To sit with us once more, with better heed 
 To resur\ey them, we will, suddenly. 
 Pass our accept, and peremptory answer 
 
c?ci:nm ti. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 391 
 
 K Hen. Brother, we shall.— Uo, uncle Exeter.— 
 And Irolher Clarence,— and yon, brother Gloster,— 
 Warwick,— and tliintingdoo go with the king. 
 And take with you Tree power, to ratify, 
 Anj;ment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
 Sliall see advantageable for our dignity, 
 Any thins 'n. <"■ out of, our demands ; 
 Anil we'll consign thereto. — Will you, fair sister 
 Go with the princes, or stay here with us? 
 
 Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them ; 
 J^ap!y, a woman's voice may do some good, 
 VVhen articles, too nicely urg'd, be stood on. 
 
 K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with 
 She is our capital demand, compris'd [us; 
 
 Within the fore-rank of our articles. 
 
 Q. Isa. She hath good leave. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Henri/, Katharine, 
 and her Gentlewoman. 
 
 K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair ! 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, 
 Such as will enter at a lady's ear. 
 And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? 
 
 Kath. Your majesty shall mock at nie; 1 cannot 
 speak your England. 
 
 K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me 
 soundly vvith your French heart, I will be glad to 
 hear you confess it brokenly with your English 
 tongue. Do you like me, Kate ? [me. 
 
 Kath. Pardonncs-moij, I cannot tell vat is — like 
 
 K. Hen. All angel is like you, Kate ; and you are 
 like an angel. [anrjes? 
 
 Kath. Que dit il? que je stiis semblable a les 
 
 Alice. Ouij, vraymenl, (sauf vostre (jracej ainsi 
 dU-il. 
 
 I\. Hen. I said so, dear Katliarina ; and I mu.'st 
 not blush lo afiirni it. \pleines de fromperics, 
 
 Kath. bun Dieu I les langiies des hommes sont 
 
 K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the 
 ton><iies of men are full of deceits? 
 
 Alice. Oiuj ; dat de tongues of de mans is be fidl 
 of deceits : d;it is de princess. 
 
 K. He7i 'J'he princess is the better English-wo- 
 csan. I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for tliy under- 
 standing: lam glad, thou canst speak no better 
 English ; for, if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me 
 such a plain king, that thou wouldst think 1 had 
 sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways 
 to mince it iu love, but directly to say — I love you ; 
 then, if you urge me further than to say — Do you in 
 faith ? I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; 
 j'f.iith, do ; and so clap hands and a bargain : How 
 say you, lady ? 
 
 Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well. 
 
 K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, 
 or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid n:e : 
 for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and 
 for the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a 
 reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a 
 lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle 
 witli my armour on my back, under the correction 
 of br.iggiug be it spoken, I should quickly leap into 
 a wife. Or, if I might bufl'et for my love, or bound 
 my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a but- 
 cher, and sit like a jackanapes, never off: but, be- 
 fore God, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my 
 eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation ; 
 only downright oaths, wiiich 1 never use till urged, 
 nor never break for urguig. If thou canst love a 
 fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth 
 snn-burnlng, that never looks in his glass for love 
 of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. 
 I speak to thee plain soldier : If thou canst love me 
 for this, take me : if not to say to thee— that I shall 
 die, is true ; but — for thy love, by the lord, no ; yet 
 I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, 
 take a lellow of phiin and uncoined constancy ; for 
 he perforce must do thee rigiit, because lie hath not 
 the gift to woo in otiier pi. ices ; for these fellows of 
 infinite tonjjue, that can rhyme tlieiuselves into 
 ladies' favours, — tJieyno always reason themselves 
 
 out again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a 
 rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will iail ; a 
 straight back will stoop ; a black beard will turn 
 white ; a curled pate will grow bald ; a fair face will 
 wither; a full eye will wax hollow : but a good heart, 
 Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, 
 and nut the moon ; for it shines bright, and never 
 changes, but keeps his course truly. Il' thou would 
 liBve such a one, take me: And take me, take a 
 soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And what 
 sayest tliou then to my love ? speak, my fair, and 
 fairly, I pray thee. [France? 
 
 Kath. Is it possible dat I should love dc f neiny of 
 
 K. Hen. No; it is not possible, you sliould love 
 the enemy of Fiance, Kate: but, in lo\ ing me, you 
 should love the friend ol Fiance ; for 1 love France 
 so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I 
 will have it all mine : and, Kate, when France is 
 mine, and I am yours, then yours is Franie, and 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. |vou are mine. 
 
 K. Hen. No, Kate? i will tell thee in French; 
 which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a 
 new-inanied wife about her husband s neck, hardly 
 to be shook of. Quand fay la possession de 
 France, et quand vous avez ia possession de 7noy, 
 (let me see, what then :" Saint Dennis be my speed !) 
 — done vostre est France, et vous estes mienne. 
 It is as easy lor me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, 
 as to s()eak so much more French : I shall never 
 mo\ e thee in French, unless it be to laui;h at me. 
 
 Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le Francois que 
 vous 2'arlez, est meilleur que I'Atifflois lequel je 
 parte. 
 
 K. Hen. No, 'faith, 'tis not, Kate : but thy speak- 
 ing of my tongue, and 1 thine, most truly ialsely 
 must needs be i^ranted to me much at one. ]5ut, 
 Kate, dost thou understand thus much English ? 
 Canst tliou love me ? 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell. 
 
 K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate ? 
 I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me : 
 and at night when you come into your closet, you'll 
 question this gentlewoman about me ; and I know, 
 Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, 
 that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock 
 me mercifully; the rather, gentle piincess, because 
 I love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, Kate, 
 (as I have a saving faith within me, tells me, — thou 
 shalt,) I get thee with scainbling, and Ihou must 
 therefore needs prove a good soldii-rbreeder : Shall 
 not thou and I, between Saint Dennis and Saint 
 George, compound a boy, hall Frenili, li;ill English, 
 that shall go to Constantuiople, and take the 'i'urk by 
 the beard ? shall we not? what sayest thou, my iair 
 
 Kath. I do not know dat. [flower-de-luce''' 
 
 K. Hen. No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to 
 promise : do but now promise, Kate, you will en- 
 deavour for your French part of such a boy ; and 
 for my English m(;iefy, take the word of a king, and 
 a bachelor. How answer you, lu plus belle Ka- 
 tharine du munde, man tres chere et divine deesse ? 
 
 Kath. Your majeste 'iwefausse French enough 
 to deceive de most saije damoiselle dat is en 
 France. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, fy upon my false French ! By mine 
 honour, in true Euglis-li, \ love thee, Kate : by which 
 honour 1 dare not swear, thou lovest me; yet my 
 blood begins to flitter me that thou dost, notwith- 
 standing the poor and iinteaiperiug etlect of my 
 visage. Now beshrew my father's ainbitiiui ! he was 
 thinking of civil wars when he got me ; therefore was 
 I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect 
 of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright 
 them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the bet- 
 ter I shall appear : my contort is, that old age, that 
 ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more S| oil upon 
 my face ; thou hast me,if tlmu hast nie, at the worst; 
 and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and 
 better: And therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, 
 will you have me? Put off your inaidfn blusheB, 
 
392 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 avouch the thoiishts of your heart wiih the looks of 
 an empress ; take me by the hand, and say — Harry 
 of England, I am thine: which word thou shalt no 
 sooner bless mine ear withal, but 1 will tell thee 
 alond — England is thine, Ireland is thine. France 
 is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who, 
 though I speak it before his <'ace, if he be not fellow 
 with the best king, thou shalt tind the best king of 
 good fellows. Come, your answer in broken musio ; 
 lor thy voice is music, and thy English broken: 
 therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind 
 to me in broken English, Wilt thou have nie ? 
 
 Ktith. Dat is, as it shall please de roy monpere, 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, it will please hirn well. Kate ; it 
 shall plea.se him, Kate. 
 
 Kaik. Den it shall also content me. 
 
 K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I 
 call you — my queen. 
 
 Kaih. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez : 
 mafoy.je ne veux point que vous ahbaiisez vostre 
 grandeur, en baisant la main dune vostre indigne 
 serviteure; excusez moy,je vous supplie, mon ires 
 pzcissant seigneur. 
 
 h. Hen. 'i'lien I will kiss your lips, Kate. 
 
 Katk. Les dames, et demoiselles, pour estre 
 baisees devant leurs nopces, it nest pas le coHtume 
 de France. 
 
 K. Hen. Madame, my interpreter, what says she ? 
 
 Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies 
 ofFrance, — I cannot tell what is, baiser, en English. 
 
 K. Hen. To kiss. 
 
 Alice. Your majesty en/e«c?/-ebettre que may. 
 
 K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids in 
 France to kiss before they are married, would she 
 say? 
 
 Alice. Ouij, vrayment, 
 
 K. Hen. Q, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great 
 kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined 
 within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are 
 the makers of manneis, Kate ; and the liberty that 
 Ibllows our places, stops the mouths of all find- 
 faults; as I will do yours, for upholding the nice 
 fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss ; tliere- 
 fore, patiently and yielding. (Kissing her.) You 
 have witchcraft in your lips, Kate : there is more 
 eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than ih the 
 tongues of the French council ; and they should 
 sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general 
 petition of monarchs. Here comes your father. 
 
 Enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy, 
 
 Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, Westmoreland, 
 
 and other French and English Lords. 
 
 Bur. God save your majesty ! my royal cousin, 
 teach you our princess Euglish ; 
 
 K. Hen. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, 
 how perfectly I love her, and that is good English. 
 
 Bur. Is she not apt? 
 
 K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz ; and my con- 
 dition is not smooth : so that, having neither the 
 voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so 
 conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will ap- 
 pear in his true likeness. 
 
 Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I an- 
 swer you for that. If you would conjure in her, you 
 must make a circle : if conjure up love in her in his 
 true likeness, he must appear naked, and blind : Can 
 you blame- her then, being a m:iid yet rosed over 
 with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the 
 appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing 
 self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid 
 to coiisitrn to. [blind, and enforces. 
 
 K. Hen. Yet they do wink, and yield ; as love is 
 
 Bur. 'J'hey are tl>en excused, my lord, when they 
 see not what thty do. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, goiid my lord, teach your cousin to 
 coi.'seiit to winking. 
 
 Bur. I will wiuk on her to consent, my lord, if 
 you will teach her to know my meaning: for niaid.s, 
 well siiiamered and warm kept, are like fliesat Bar- 
 tholomew-tide, blind, though they have tueir eyes; 
 
 and then they will endure handhng, which befora 
 would not abide looking on. 
 
 K. Hen. This iiiotal ties me over to time, and a 
 hot summer ; and so I will catch the fly. your cousiti. 
 in the latter end, and she must be blind too. 
 Bur. As lo\ e is, my lord, before it loves. 
 K. Hen. It is so: and you may, some of you 
 thank love for my blindness ; who cannot see many 
 a fair French city, for one fair French maid, that 
 stands in my way. 
 
 Fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them perspec- 
 
 tively, the cities turned into a maid ; lor they are 
 
 all girdled with maiden walls, that war hath never 
 
 K. Hen. Shall Kate be my wife? .^entered. 
 
 Fr. King. So please you. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content; so the maiden cities yon 
 talk of miy wait on her : so the maid, that stood in 
 the way of my wish, shall show me the way to my 
 will. [son. 
 
 Fr. King. We have consented to ail terms of rea- 
 K. Hen. Is't so, my lords of England? 
 West. The king hath granted every article : 
 His daughter, first; and tlien, in sequel, all. 
 According to their firm proposed natures. 
 
 Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed this: — 
 Where your majesty demands, — That tiie king of 
 France, having any occasion to write for matter of 
 grant, shall name your hii;hness in this form, and 
 with this addition, in French, — Notre tres cherfils 
 Henry roy cT Angleterre . heretier de France ; and 
 thus in Latin, — Prceclarissimusfilius noster Hen- 
 ricus, rex Anglia, et heeres Fraticia. 
 
 Fr. King. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied. 
 But your request shall make me let it pass. 
 
 K. Hen. 1 pray you then, in love and dear alliance. 
 Let that one article rank with the rest: 
 And, thereupon, give me your daughter, [rai.ie up 
 Fr. King. Take her, fair soi» ; and from her blood 
 Issue to me : that the contending kingdoms 
 Of France and England, whose very shores look pale 
 With envy of each other's happiness. 
 May cease their hatred : and this dear coajunctioD 
 Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord 
 In their sweet bo.soms, that never war advance 
 His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. 
 All. Amen ! [aess all, 
 
 K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate : — and bear me wit- 
 That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. 
 
 [Flourish. 
 Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages. 
 Combine your hearts in one, your realms in OBe ! 
 As man and wife, being two, are one in love. 
 So be there t'wixt your kingdoms such a spousal. 
 That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, 
 Wiiich troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage. 
 Thrust in between the paction of these kingdom.'?. 
 To make divorce of their incorporate league; 
 That English may as French, French Englishmen, 
 Receive each other 1 — God speak this Amen ! 
 All. Amen. [day. 
 
 K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage : — on whicb 
 My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, 
 And all the peers, for surety of our leagues. 
 Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me ; 
 And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be ! 
 
 [Exeuni 
 Enter Chorus. 
 Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen. 
 
 Our bending author hath pursu'd the story; 
 In little room confining mighty men, 
 
 Mangling by starts the full coarse of their glory. 
 Smalltime, but, in thatsinall, most greatly Iiv'd 
 
 This star of England : fortune made his sword ; 
 By which the world's best garden he achiev'd, 
 
 And of it left his son imperial lord. 
 Henrv the sixth, in swadciling bands crown'd king 
 Of France and England, did this king succeed : 
 Whose state so many had the managing, [bleed. 
 
 I'hat t!iey lost France, and maile his Euglaiid 
 Which oit our stase has shown ; and, for their sake, 
 In your fair mind.s let this acceptance take. [Exit, 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Of this play (here is no copy earlier llian that of the folio in 1623, tliou^h the two succeeding parts are extant 
 in two editious in (|iinrto. That the secoini and third parts were pnblislieii without the tirst, may be admitted as 
 no weak proof tliai the cupie^ were snrrepliticnisly obtained, and that the prir.ters of (hat time gave tlie public 
 those plays, not such as (he aiitlmr designed, but suth as Ihey could get tliein. Tliat iliis play was written l)efore the 
 two otliers is ju inbitaljly cullecteil Irorn the series of events; that it wms written and played before Henry the 
 Fifth is app.ireiit i because, in tli- epilogue there is mention made of this play, and not of the other parts: . 
 
 " Henry the sixth in swaddling hands crown'd king, 
 Whose slate so many had (he managing, 
 That tliey lost Fiance, and made his England bleed: 
 Wliicli oft our stage hath shown. " 
 
 France is lost in thi^ play. The two following contain, as (he old title imports, (he contention of the houses of York and 
 Lancaster. Tlie si cond and third of Henry VI. were printed In KiOO. Wiien Henry V. was written, we know not; but 
 it was priutf-d likewise in IGOO. ami tlierel'ore before tlie publication of the tirst and second parts. The first part o-l 
 Henry VI. had been often shown on tlie stage, and would certainly have appeared in its place, ijad the author been 
 the publisher. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KING HENRY THE SIXTH 
 
 DUKEOFGLOSTKll Uncle (o the King, and Protector. 
 
 DUKE OF BEDFORD, Uncle to the King, unit Regent of 
 
 France 
 THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, great Uncle to 
 
 tie Kino. 
 HENRY BEAUFORT, great Uncle to the King, Bishbp 
 
 vt' Winchester, ani aflenrartls Cicrilinul. 
 JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl of Somerset , alterwariis Duke. 
 RICHAhl) FLANTAGENET, eldest Son of Richard i ate 
 
 Eur/ of Cambridge, afterwards Vuke of York. 
 EARL. OF WARWICK. 
 EARL OF SALISBURY. 
 EARL OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 LORD TALUOr, a/lerwards Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 .lOHN TALBOT, ///v Son. 
 EDMUND MORTIMER, Enrl of March. 
 Morlimer\'i Keeper, and a Lawyer. 
 SIR ,IOHN FA.STOLFE. 
 SIR WILLUM LUCY. 
 SIRWILLIAll GLANSDALE. 
 SIR THO.MAS GARGRAVE. 
 Mayor of London. 
 
 WOOnVILLE, Lievtenant of the Tower. 
 
 VERNON, uf the White Rose, or York Faction. 
 
 B.ASSET. of the Red Rose, or Lancaster Facticn. 
 
 CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King oj France. 
 
 KEIGNIER. Duke of Anion, andlitular King of Naples 
 
 DIKE OF BURGUNDY". 
 
 DUKE OF ALENCON. 
 
 Governor of Paris 
 
 Bastard of Orleans. 
 
 Master Gunner of Orleans, and nis Son. 
 
 General of the French Forces in Bourdeaux. 
 
 A French Sergeant. 
 
 A Porter. 
 
 An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle. 
 
 MARGARET, Daughter to Reignier; afterwards mar- 
 ried to Kind Henry 
 
 COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE. 
 
 JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc. 
 
 Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of 
 the Tower, Heralds. Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, 
 and several Attendants both on the Eny.ish and 
 French. 
 
 Scene, — Partly in England, and partly in France. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Westminster Abljey. 
 
 Dead 7nctrch. Corpse of King Henry the Fifth 
 discovered, lying in state ; attended on by the 
 Dukes o/Beofo.rd, Glosteu, and Exeter ; the 
 Earl of VVakwick, the Bishop of Winchester, 
 Heralds , etc. 
 
 Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day 
 tonight! • 
 
 Comets, irniiortiiig change of times and states, 
 Brandi.sfi your crystal tresses in the sky ; 
 And vvitii them scourge the bad reiolting stars, 
 That have consented unto Henry's death ! 
 Henry the Fiith, too famous to live lon^ ! 
 Engl.ind ne'er lost a king of so much worth. 
 
 Glo. England ne'er had a king until his time. 
 Virtue he had, deserving to cominatid ; 
 His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; 
 His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ; 
 His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful lire. 
 More dazzled and drove back his enemies, 
 Than mid d ly sun, fierce bent against their faces. 
 Whatshoiild I say ? his deeds exceed all speech; 
 He ne'er lilt up his hand but conquered. 
 
 Exe. We mourn in black ; Why mourn we not in 
 flenry is dead, and never shall revive : [blood ? 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; 
 And death's dishonourable victmy 
 We with our stately presence glorify. 
 Like captives bound to a triuinpliaut car. 
 What? shall we curse the planets of mishap, 
 That plotted thus our glorv s oveilhrovv :' 
 Or siiall we think the subtle wilted French 
 Conjurors and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, 
 
 rob- 
 
 By magic verses have contrived his end ? 
 
 Win. He ^vas a king, blessed of the King of kinga. 
 Unto the French the dreadful judgment day 
 So dreadful will not be, as was his sight. 
 The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: 
 'I'he church's prayers made him so prosijerous. 
 
 Glo. The church ! where is it ? Katl not chu 
 men pray'd. 
 His thread of life had not so soon decay'd: 
 None do you like but an efl'eniinate prince. 
 Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. 
 
 Witt. Gloster, vvhate'er we like, thou art protector; 
 And lookest to conmiand the prince, and realm. 
 Thy wife is proud : she holdeth thee in awe, 
 More than God, or religious churchmen, may. 
 
 Glo. Name not religion, for thou lo\'st the fle.sh , 
 And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st 
 Except it be to pray against thy foes. [in peace I 
 
 Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your ininda 
 Let's to the altar: Heralds, wait on ns : — 
 Instead of gold, we'll otfer up oitr arms ; 
 Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. — • 
 Posterity, await for wretched years. 
 When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck. 
 Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears. 
 And none but women left to wail the dead. — 
 Henry the filth I thy ghost I invocate ; 
 Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils! 
 Combat with adverse [ilanets in the heavens! 
 A lar more glorious star thy soul will make. 
 Tiian Julius Caesar, or bright — 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. i\Iy honourable lords, health to yoaalll 
 Sad tidings bring I to y(ni out of France, 
 Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture" 
 
394 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Guieime, Charr.paigne, Reims, Orleans, 
 Paris, Giiysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. 
 
 Bed. VV'hat say'st thoi Bia«, belore dead Henry's 
 corse ? 
 Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns 
 Will make liim burst his lead, and rise iioni death. 
 
 Glo. Is Paris lost? is Roiien yielded up ? 
 If Henry were recalld to life again. 
 These news would cause him once more yield the 
 ghost. [us'd ? 
 
 Exe. How were they lost ? what treachery was 
 
 Mens. No treachery , but want ol' men and money. 
 Among the soldiers tliis is muttered, — 
 'rhat here you maintain several factions; 
 And, whilst a field should be despatcli'd and foug.ht. 
 You are disputini; of your generals. 
 One would have liiig'ring wars with little cost; 
 Another would fly swift but wantetli wings ; 
 A third man thinks, without expense at all. 
 By guileful fair words peace may be obtam'd. 
 Awake, awake, English nobility ! 
 Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot : 
 Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ; 
 Of England's coat one half is cut away. 
 
 Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, 
 These tidings would call forth her flowing tides. 
 
 Bed. Me they concern ; regent 1 am of France : — 
 Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight (or France. — 
 Away witli these disgraceful wailing robes ! 
 Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes. 
 To Weep their interniissive miseries. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad 
 
 mischance, 
 France is revolted from the English quite ; 
 Except some petty towns of no import: 
 The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Reims; 
 Tlie bastard ol Orleans with him is join'd ; 
 Keignier, duke of Anjou, duth take his part; 
 'J'iie duke of Alen90ii flieth to his side. 
 
 Exe. The Daupliin crowned king ! all fly to him ! 
 O, whither shall ue fly {(Om this reproach ? 
 
 G/o. We will not fly, but to our enemies" throats : — 
 Bedlord, if tiiou be slack, Fll li:;htit out. [ness ? 
 
 Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forvi'ard- 
 An army have I musterd in my thoughts, 
 VV^herewith already France is over run. 
 
 Enter a third Messenger. 
 
 3 Mess, ftly gracious lords, — to add to your la- 
 
 ments, 
 Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse, — 
 I must inform you of a dismal figiit, 
 iietwixt the stout lord 'I'albot and the French. 
 
 Win. What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is't so ? 
 3 Mess. O, no; wherein Lord Talbut was o'er- 
 thrown : 
 riie circiimstaiic e I'll tell you more at large. 
 The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, 
 Retiring from the siege of Orleans, 
 Having lull scarce six thousand in his troo i, 
 By three and twenty thousand of the French 
 VVas round encompassed and set upon : 
 No leisure had he to enrank his men ; 
 rie wanted pikes to set before his archers ; 
 Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd outof hedges, 
 I'hey piti-'hed in tlie ground cuuliisediy, 
 Vo keep tlie horsemen off fioin breaking in. 
 More tlian three hours the ligul lontiiiued ; 
 Where valiant Talbot, above human thoui;ht. 
 Enact d wonders with his swoi d and lance. 
 Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him ; 
 . Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew: 
 The French exclaiuid. The devil was in arms; 
 All the whole army stood agaz'd on iiiui : 
 His S')ldiers, spying his uiulaunted spirit, 
 AT'-tlbot ! a 'I'alltoit ! cried out amain, 
 And nish'd irito the bowtis of the battle. 
 Here had the conquest fully been seafd up.. 
 
 I If sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward; 
 I He, be.'ng in the vaward, (plac'd behind, 
 I With purpose to relieve and follow them,) 
 Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. 
 Hence grevv the general wreck and massacre ; 
 Enclosed were they with their enemies : 
 ; A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, 
 Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ; 
 Whom all France, with their chief assembled 
 
 strength. 
 Durst not presume to look once in the face. 
 
 Bed. Is Talbot slain ? then 1 will slay myself. 
 For liuiig idly here, in pomp and ease. 
 Whilst such a worthy leader, >vanting aid, 
 Unto his dastard foe-inen is betray"d. 
 
 3 Mess. O no, he lives ; but is took prisoner. 
 And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerfbrd : 
 Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took, likewise. 
 
 Bed. His ransome there is none but I shall pay: 
 I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne, 
 His crowu shall be the ransome of my friend ; 
 Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. — 
 Farewell, my masters ; to my task will 1 ; 
 Bonfires in France forthwitli I am to make. 
 To keep our great Saint George's feast withal: 
 Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take. 
 Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake. 
 
 3 31ess. So you had need ; lor Orleans is besieg'd; 
 The English army is grown weak and faint : 
 The earl of Sali,jbury craveth supply. 
 And hardly keeps his men from nmliny, 
 Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. 
 
 Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn 
 Either to quell the Dauphin utterly. 
 Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 
 
 Bed. 1 do remember it; and here take leave, 
 To go about my preparation. [Exit. 
 
 Glo. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I can. 
 To \ iew the artillery and munition ; 
 And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Exit. 
 
 Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king is. 
 Being ordain'd his special governor ; 
 And for his safety there lU best devise. [Exit 
 
 Win. Each hath his place and function to attend : 
 I am left out ; for me nothing remains. 
 But long I will not be Jack-out of oliir.e ; 
 The king from Eltham I intend to send. 
 And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. 
 
 [Exit. Scene closes. 
 
 Scene II. — France. Before Orleans. 
 
 Enter Charles, ivithhis Forces; Allncon, 
 Reignier, and others. 
 
 Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the liea- 
 So in the earth, to this day is nut known : [vens. 
 
 Late did he shine upon the Eug'isli side ; 
 Now we are vict(us, upon us lie smiles. 
 What towns of any moment, but we have '? 
 At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans : 
 Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts. 
 Faintly besiege us one hour in a uuuith. 
 
 Alen. They want their porridge, and their fat 
 bull-beeves : 
 Either they must be dieted like mules. 
 And have their provender tied to their mouths. 
 Or piteous tliev will look, like drowned mice. 
 
 Reig. Let's raise tlie siege : Why live we idly lieie? 
 Talbot is taken, whom we wont to tear: 
 Rf maineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ; 
 And he may wrll in fretting spend his gall. 
 Nor men, nor money, li-ttii tie to make war. 
 
 Char. Sound, sound alarum : we will rush on them. 
 Now for the honour of the forlorn French : 
 ilim 1 forgive my death, that killeth me. 
 When he sees me go back one Icjot, or fly. [Exeunt. 
 A/arums ; Excursmis ; ii^ter wards a Retreat. 
 
 Re enter Ch.vrles, Alencon, Rkig.nier, and 
 others. 
 
 CV;ar.Who ever saw the like ? what nun have 1? • 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENKY VL 
 
 395 
 
 Dogs ! cowards ! dastards! — I would ne'er have fled. 
 But that they lell nie 'midst my enemies. 
 
 Reiff. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; 
 He fiohteth as one weary oi' his life. 
 The other lords, like lions wanting food, 
 Do rush upon us as tiieir hungry prey. 
 
 Alen. Frossard, a countryman of ours, records, 
 England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, 
 During the time Edward the third did reign. 
 ftJore tridy now may tiiis be verified ; 
 !■ or none but Samsons, and Goliasses, 
 it sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! 
 I^ean rawbon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose 
 'J'iipy had such courage and audacity? 
 
 Char. Let's leave this town; for they are hair- 
 brain'd slaves. 
 And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: 
 <)l old 1 know them ; rather with their teeth 
 The walls they'll tear dovvn, than forsake the siege. 
 
 Reig. I think, by some odd ginimals or device, 
 Tneir arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on; 
 lilse ne'er could they hold out so, as they do. 
 iiy my consent, we'll e'en let them alone. 
 Alen. Be it so. 
 
 Enter the Bastard of Orleans. 
 
 Bast. Where's the prince Dauphin ? I have news 
 
 for him, 
 Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. 
 Bast. Meliiinks your looks are sad, your cheer 
 appal'd ; 
 Hath the late overthrow wrought this ofFenoe ? 
 De not disinay'd, for succour is at hand : 
 A holy maid hither with me I bring. 
 Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven. 
 Ordained is to raise this tedious siege. 
 And drive the English forth the bounds of France. 
 The spirit of deep prophesy she hath. 
 Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome; 
 VVhat'o past, and what's to come, she can descry. 
 Speak, sliall I call her in ? Believe my words. 
 For they are certain and unfallible. 
 
 Char. Go, call her in: [Exit Bastard.] But, first, 
 to try her skill, 
 Reignier, stand tiiou as Dauphiii in my place: 
 (Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern r — 
 By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. 
 
 [Retires.) 
 
 Enter La Pucelle, Bastard of Orleans, and 
 others. 
 
 Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do those wond'rous 
 feats ? [me ?— 
 
 Ptic. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile 
 Where is the Diiuphin ? — come, come from behind ; 
 1 know thee well, though never seen before. 
 Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me ; 
 In |)rivate will I talk \vith thee apart; — 
 Stanil back, you lords, and give us leave avvhile. 
 
 Reiy. Sjie takes upon her bravely at first dash. 
 
 Puc. Dauphin, lam by birth a shepherd's daugh- 
 My w it untrain'd in any kind of art. [ten, 
 
 lltaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleas'd 
 'I'o shine on my contemptible estate : 
 Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs. 
 And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, 
 God's mother deigned to appear to me ; 
 And, in a vision lull of majrsty, 
 Will'd me to leave niy base vocation. 
 And free my country from calamity : 
 Her aid she promised, and assur'd success: 
 111 complete glory she reveai'd herself; 
 And, wliereas I was black and swart before, 
 With those clear rays which she infus'd on me. 
 That beauty am I bless'd with, which you see. 
 Ask me what question thou canst possible. 
 And I will answer unpiemeditated : 
 ivly courage try by combat, ii'thou dar'st, 
 •And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. 
 Resolve on this: 'J'liou shall be lurlunate, 
 
 If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. 
 
 Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with tliy Iiigh 
 terms ; 
 Only this proof I'll of thy valour make, — 
 In single combat thou shalt buckle with me; 
 And, if thou vanquishest, thy words are true ; 
 Otherwise, I renounce all confidence. 
 
 Puc. 1 am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd sivord, 
 
 Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ; 
 
 The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's clmrch- 
 
 Out of a deal of old iron I chose forth. [yard. 
 
 Char. Then come o' God's name, I fear no woman. 
 
 Puc. And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. 
 
 {Theijfiyht) 
 Char. Stav, stay thy hand ; thou art an Amazon, 
 And fightest with the sword of Deborah. 
 
 Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else I were too 
 weak. [help me : 
 
 Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must 
 Impatiently I burn with thy desire ; 
 My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd. 
 Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 
 Let me thy servant, and not sovereign be ; 
 'Tis the Frencli Dauphin sueth to thee thus. 
 Puc. 1 must not yield to any rites of love. 
 For my profession's .sacred from above : 
 When I have chased all thy I'oes from hence, 
 Then will I think upon a recompense. [thraJJ. 
 
 Char. Mean time, look gracious on thy prostrate 
 Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. 
 Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her 
 smock : 
 Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. 
 Reig. Shall we disturb liim, since he keeps no 
 mean ? [know ; 
 
 Alen. He may mean more than we poor men do 
 These women are shrewd tempters with their 
 tongues. [on ? 
 
 Reig. My lord, where are you? what devise yoa 
 Shall we give o\er Orleans, or no? 
 
 Puc. VVhy, no, I say, distrustful recreants I 
 Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard. 
 Char. What she says, I'll confirm ; we'll fight it 
 
 out. 
 Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. 
 Tliis night the siege assuredly I'll raise: 
 Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, 
 Since I have enter'd into these wars. 
 Glory is like a circle in the water. 
 Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself. 
 Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 
 With Henry's death, the English circle ends; 
 Dispersed are the glories it included. 
 Now am I like that proud insulting ship. 
 Which Cjesarand his i'ortune bare at once. 
 
 Char. Was iNIahoniet inspired with a dove '? 
 Thou with an eagle art inspired then. 
 Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
 Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like thee. 
 Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth. 
 How may I reverently worship thee enough ? 
 Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. 
 Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our 
 honours ; 
 Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd. 
 Char. Presently we'll try: — Come, let's away 
 about it : 
 No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — London. Hdl before the Tower. 
 
 Enter, at the gates, the Duke of Gloster, ivit/i 
 
 his Serving-tnen, in blue coats. 
 
 Glo. I v.m come to survey the Tower this day; 
 
 Since Henry's death, I fear, tliere is conveyance. 
 
 Where be tliese warders, that they wait not here? 
 Open the gates ; Gloster it is that calls. 
 
 [Servants knock.) 
 I Ward. ( VFithin.) Who is there, that knocks so 
 
 impel iously'r 
 I Serv. It is the noble duke of Gloster. 
 
396 
 
 FIRST PART OP 
 
 Act L 
 
 2 Ward, {Within) Whoe'er he be, we may not 
 let him in. 
 
 I Serv. Answer yon so the lord protector, villains ? 
 
 1 fVard. ( Witliin.) The Lord protect him ! so we 
 answer liini : 
 We d'j no otlierwise thai) we are will'd. [mine? 
 
 Glo. Who willed yoii ; or whose will stands, but 
 There's none protector of the realm, but I. — 
 Break np tiie gaies, I'll be your warrantize : 
 ShuU i be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? 
 
 Servants rush at the Tower gates. Enter to the 
 fjates, WooDViLLE, the Lieutenant. 
 
 Wood. [Within.) What noise is this? what 
 tr^iitor.s have we here? 
 
 Glo. Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I hear! 
 Open the gates ; here's Cluster that would enter. 
 
 Wood 'jrithin.) Have patience, noble duke; I 
 may not open ; 
 The cardinal ot" Winchester forbids : 
 From hiui 1 have express commandment, 
 That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. [me? 
 
 Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 'lore 
 Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate, 
 Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? 
 Thou ai t no friend to God, or to the king : 
 Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out .shortly. 
 
 1 Serv. Open the gates unto the lord protector. 
 Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not 
 quickly. ' 
 
 E7iter \ViNCHESTER, attended by a Train of Ser- 
 vants in taivntf coats. 
 
 IVin. How now, ambitious Humphrey, what 
 means this ? [shut out ? 
 
 Glo. Piel'd priest, dost thou command me to be 
 
 JVin. I do, thou most usurping proditor, 
 And not protector of the king or realm. 
 
 Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator ; 
 Thou, that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord; 
 Thou, that giv'st whores indulgences to sin : 
 S'U oanv as tliee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 
 if thou proceed in this thy insolence. [foot ; 
 
 Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a 
 This be Damascus, be thou cuised Caiu, 
 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. 
 
 Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back : 
 Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth 
 I'll use to carry thee out of this place. 
 
 Win. Do what thou dar'st ; I beard thee to thy 
 face. [lace ? 
 
 Glo, What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my 
 Draw, men, for all this privileged place; [beard ; 
 Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your 
 (Gloster and his men attack the Bishop.J 
 \ mean to tug it, and to culf you soundly : 
 Under my feet I stamp thy cardiiial'.s hat; 
 In spite of pope or dignities of church. 
 Here by the cheeks 111 drag thee np and down. 
 
 Win. Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope. 
 
 Glo. Winchester goose, I cry — a rope ! a rope ! — 
 Now beat them hence, why do you let them stay? — 
 Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's ar^ay. — 
 Out, tawny coats ! — out, scarlet hypocrite ! 
 
 Here a great tumult. In the midst of it, enter 
 the Mayor of London, and officers. 
 
 May. Fy, lords .' that you, being supreme ma- 
 gistrates. 
 Thus contumeliously should break the peace ! 
 
 Glo. Peace, mayor ; thou knovv'st little of my 
 wrongs : 
 Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, 
 Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. 
 
 Win. Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens ; 
 One, that still motions war, and never |>eace, 
 O'ercharging your free purses with large fines ; 
 That seeks to overthrow religion. 
 Because he is protector of the realm ; 
 And would have armour here out of the Tov\'.^r, 
 
 To crown himself king, and suppress the prince. 
 
 Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but biovya, 
 (Here they skirmish nijain.) 
 
 May. Nought rests for nie, in this tuinultuon» 
 riut to make open proclauiation • — [strife, 
 
 Come, officer ; as loud as e'er thou canst. 
 
 Offi. All manner of jnen, nssetfibled here in 
 arms this day, against God's peace and the king's, 
 tve charge and command you, in hiS Jiighnes^ 
 name, to repair to your several dwelling places ; 
 and not to wear, handle, or use, any sivurd. wea- 
 pon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain if death. 
 
 Glo. Cartlinal, I'll be no bieaker of' the law; 
 But we shall meet, and break our minds at large. 
 
 Win. Gloster, we'll meet ; lo thy dear cost, be 
 sure : 
 Thy heart blood I will have, for this day's work. 
 
 May. I'll call for dlubs, if you will not away : 
 This cardinal is more haughty than the devil. 
 
 Glo. Mayor, farewell : thou dost but what thou 
 may'st. 
 
 Win. Abominable Gloster! guard thy head; 
 For I intend to have it, ere long. \Exeunt. 
 
 May. See the coast clear'd, and then we will 
 depart. — 
 Good God I that nobles should such stomachs bear ! 
 I myself fight not once in foity year. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene IV. — France. Before Orleans. 
 
 Enter, on the tvalls, the Master-Gunner and his 
 So?i. 
 
 M. Gun. Sirrah, thou ktiow'st how Orleans is 
 besieg'd; 
 And how the English have the suburbs won. 
 
 Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, 
 Howe'er, unlbrttniate, I miss'd my aim. [by me : 
 
 M. Gun. But now thou shalt nut. Be thou rul'd 
 Chief rnaster-gnnner am I of this town; 
 Souiething I must do, to procure me grace. 
 The prince's espials have informed me, 
 How the English, in the suburbs clo.se intrench'd. 
 Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars 
 In yonder tower, to overpeer the city; 
 And thence discover, how, with most advantage, 
 'I'hey may vex us, with sh'H. or with assault. 
 To interce|)t this inconvenience, 
 A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd > 
 And fully even these three days have I watch'd, 
 If I could see them. Now, boy, do thou watch, 
 For I can stay no longer. 
 If thou spy'st any, run and bring nie word; 
 And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit. 
 
 Son. Father, I warrant you; take you no care; 
 I'll never trouble you, if I may spy thein. 
 
 Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Totver, the Lords 
 Salisbury and '1'aldot, Sir William Glans- 
 DALE, Sir Thomas Gakgr.we, and others. 
 
 Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd ! 
 How wert thou handled, being prisoner? 
 Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd ? 
 Disrours*, I jjr'ythee, on this turret's top. 
 
 7'a/. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner. 
 Called— the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles ; 
 For him I was exchanged and ransomed. 
 But with a baser man of arms by far, 
 Once, in contempt, they would have barfer'd me 
 Which I, disdaimng, scorn'd ; and craved death 
 Rather than I would be so pii'd esteem'd. 
 In fine, redeem'd I was as 1 desir'd. 
 But, O ! the treacherous FastolCe wounds my heart ! 
 Whom with my bare fist J would execute. 
 If' now I had hnn brought into my power. 
 
 Sal. Yet lell'st thou not, how thou wert enter- 
 tain'd. [taunts 
 
 Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious 
 In open market-place produc'd they me. 
 To be a public spectacle to all ; 
 Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
 The scare,crow, that ali'rights oor children so. 
 
Scene G. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 397 
 
 Then broke I from (he officers tliat led me ; 
 
 And with my nails digit'd stones out of the ground, 
 
 To hurl at the beholders of my shame. 
 
 My grisly countenance made others fly ; 
 
 None durst come near for fear of sudden death. 
 
 In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ; 
 
 So great fear of my name 'niongst them was spread, 
 
 That they suppos'd, I could rend bars of steel. 
 
 And spurn in pieces posts of adamant : 
 
 Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had, 
 
 Tliat walk'd about me every minute-while ; 
 
 And if I did but stir out of my bed. 
 
 Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. 
 
 Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ; 
 But we will be reveiigd sufficiently. 
 Now it is supper-time in Orleans: 
 Here, through this grate, 1 can count every one, 
 And view the Frenchmen how they fortify ; 
 Let us look in, the sight will mucli deliijht thee. — 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave, and .sir VV illiam Glansdale, 
 Let me have your express opinions, 
 W'liere is best place to make our battery next. 
 
 Gar. I think, at the north gate ; for there stand 
 lords. 
 
 Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. 
 
 Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd. 
 Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. 
 
 (Shot from the town. Salisbury and Sir 
 Thomas Gargrave fall.) 
 
 Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners ! 
 
 Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man! 
 
 Tal. What chance is this, that suddenly hath 
 cross'd ns? — 
 Speak, Salisbury ; at least, if thou canst speak ; 
 How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? 
 One of tiiy eyes, and thy cheek's oide struck off! — 
 Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand, 
 That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy I 
 In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercauie ; 
 Henry the fifth he first train'd to the wars ; 
 Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up. 
 His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. — 
 Yet liv'st (hou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth 
 
 fail. 
 One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace : 
 The sun with one eye vieweth all the woild. — 
 Heaven, be thou gracious to none alire, 
 If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands ! — 
 Bear hence his body, I will help to bary it. — 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life i 
 Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. 
 Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comibrt; 
 Thou slialt not die, whdes — 
 He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me ; 
 As wiio shoidd say. When I am dead and ijone, 
 Remember to avenge me on the French. — 
 Plantugenet, I will; and Nero like, 
 Play on the lute, bpholditig the towns burn : 
 Wretched shall France be only in my name. ' 
 
 (Thunder heard; afterwards an alarum.) 
 What stir is this? What tumult siin the heavens i* 
 Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have ga- 
 ther'd head : 
 The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, — 
 A holy prophetess, new risen up, — 
 Is come with a great power to raise the siege. 
 
 (Salisbury groans.) 
 
 Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan ! 
 It irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd. — 
 Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you : — 
 Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, 
 Vour hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels, 
 And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. — 
 Convey me Salisbury into his tent, 
 And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen 
 dare. [Exeunt, bearing out the bodies. 
 
 Scene V. — T)ie same. Before one of the Gatet 
 
 Alarum. Skirmishings. Talrot pursueth the Dau- 
 phin, and driveth him in; then enter Joan la 
 Pucelle. driving Englishmen before her. Then 
 enter T.iLlior. 
 
 Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and my 
 force .'' 
 Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them ; 
 A vvoman, clad in armour, chaseth them. 
 
 E7iter L.\ Pccelle. 
 
 Here, here she comes : — I'll have a bout with tliee; 
 Devil, or devjl's d am, I'll conjure thee : 
 Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witcii. 
 And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st ; 
 Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace 
 
 thee. [They fight.) 
 
 Tal. Heavens, can you suITt hell so to prevair!* 
 My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage. 
 And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder. 
 But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
 
 Puc. Talbot, farewell ; thy hour is not yet come : 
 I must go victual Orleans forthwith 
 O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength 
 Go, go, cheer up thy liunger-starved men; 
 Help Salisbury to make his testament : 
 This day is ours, as many more shall be. 
 
 (Pucelle enters the Town, ivith Soldiers.) 
 Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's 
 
 wheel ; 
 I know not where I am, nor what I do : 
 A witch, by fear, not lorce, like Hannibal, 
 Drives back our troops, and conquers as ^he lists : 
 So bees with smoke, and dove.s with noisome 
 
 stench. 
 Are from their hives, and houses, driven away. 
 They cali'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs 
 Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 
 
 {A short alarum) 
 Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight, 
 Or tear the lions out of England's coat ; 
 Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead : 
 Slieep run not half so timorous from the wult. 
 Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard, 
 As you fly from your oft subdued si. ives. 
 
 (A/ariim. Another slcirmish.) 
 It will not be : — Retire into your trenches : 
 You all consented unto Salisbury's death. 
 For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. — 
 Puf elle is enter'd into Orleans, 
 In spite of us, or aught that we could do. 
 O, would I were to die with Salisbmy ! 
 The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 
 
 {Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt 'Talbot and 
 his Forces, etc.) 
 
 Scene VI. — The same. 
 
 Enter.on the ivalls, Pucelle, Charles, Reignier, 
 Alencon, and Soldiers. 
 
 Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls ; 
 Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves: — 
 Tlius Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. 
 
 Char. Divinest creature, bright Astrea's dangh 
 How shall I honour thee for this success? Iter, 
 
 Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens. 
 That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the nexi- • 
 France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess ! — 
 Recover'd is the town of Orleans: 
 More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. 
 
 Reig. Why ring not out the bells throughout the 
 town ? 
 Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires. 
 And feast and banquet in the open streets. 
 To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. 
 
 Alen. All France will be replete with mirth anq 
 
 When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. 
 Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won 
 For which, I will divide my crovvo with her: 
 
FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act II, 
 
 An(? all the priests and friars in my realm 
 
 Sliall. in procession, sing her endless praise. 
 
 A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear, 
 
 Than Hhodope's, or Memphis', ever was : 
 
 In memory of her, when she is dead. 
 
 Her ashes, in an urn, more precious 
 
 Than the rich jewel'd coller of Darius, 
 
 Transported shall be at hig;h festivals 
 
 Before the kinRS and queens of France. 
 
 No longer on Saint Denis will we cry. 
 
 But .loan la Piicelle shall be France's saint. 
 
 Come in : and let us bancpiet royally, 
 
 Alter llils golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exemit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 
 Enter to the dates, a French Sergeant, and two 
 Sentinels. 
 
 Serij. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant : 
 If any noise, or soldier, you perceive, 
 Near to the walls, by some apparent sign. 
 Let US have knowledge at the court of guard. 
 
 1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Ser.l Thus 
 are poor servitors 
 (When others sleep upon their quiet beds,) 
 Coustrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and Forces, 
 
 with scaling ladders ; their drums beating a 
 
 dead march. 
 
 Tal. Lord regent, — and redoubted Burgundy, — 
 By whose approach, the regions of Artois, 
 Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us, — 
 This happy night the Frenchmen are secure. 
 Having all day carous'd and banqueted ; 
 Embrace we then this opportunity ; 
 As fitting best to quittance their deceit, 
 Contriv'd by ait, and haleiul sorcery. 
 
 Bed. Coward of France ! — how much he wrongs 
 his fame, 
 Despairing of his own arm's fortitude. 
 To join with witches, and the help of hell. 
 
 Bur. Traitors have never other company. — 
 But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure ? 
 
 Tal. A maid, they say. 
 
 Bed. A maid ! and be so martial ! 
 
 Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine, ere long ; 
 If underneath the standard of the French, 
 She carry armour, as she hath begun. 
 
 Tal. 'iVtW, let them practise and coaverse with 
 spirits: 
 God is our fortress; in whose conquering name. 
 Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 
 
 Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot ; we will follow thee. 
 
 Tal. Not all together: better far I guess. 
 That we do make our entrance several ways; 
 That, if it chance the one of us do fail. 
 The other yet may rise against their force. 
 
 Bed. Agreed ; I'll to yon corner. 
 
 Bur. And I to this. 
 
 Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his 
 grave. — 
 Now, Salisbury ! for thee, and for the right 
 Of Eniilish Henry, shall this night appear 
 How nuich in duty I am bound to both 
 
 {The English scale the walls, crying St. George I 
 a Talbot! and all enter by the Town.) 
 
 Sent. [Within.) Arm! arm! the enemy doth 
 make assault ! 
 
 The French leap over the ivalls in their shirts. 
 Enter, several ways, Bastard, Alencon, Rei- 
 GNiER, half ready, and half unready. 
 
 Alen. How now, my lords ? what, all unready so? 
 
 Bast. Unready ? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. 
 
 Rsig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our 
 beds. 
 Hearing alarums at o\irchambprdoors. 
 
 Alen. Of all exploits, since first I fbllow'd arms. 
 Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize 
 
 More venturous, or more desperate llian this. 
 Bast. I tliink, this Talbot be a fiend of hell. 
 Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, .favour him. 
 J len. Here comelh Charles ; I marvel how he sped, 
 
 Enter Charles and La Pucelle. 
 
 Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. 
 
 Char Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame ? 
 Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal. 
 Make us partakers of a little gain. 
 That now t,\n loss might be ten times so much ? 
 
 Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with hi 
 friend ? 
 At all times will you have my power alike ? 
 Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail. 
 Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ?• — 
 Impro\ ident soldiers! had your watch been good. 
 This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. 
 
 Char. Duke of Alencon, this was your default ; 
 That, being captain of the watch to-night. 
 Did look no better to that weighty charge. 
 
 Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept^ 
 As that whereof 1 had the government. 
 We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd. 
 
 Bast. Aline was secure. 
 
 Reig. And so was mine, my lord. 
 
 Char. And, for myself, most part of all this night, 
 Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, 
 I was employ'd in passing to and fro. 
 About relieving of the sentinels : 
 Then how, or which way, should they first break in? 
 
 Puc. Question, my lords, no further on the cane. 
 How, or which way ; 'tis sure, they found some place 
 But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. 
 And now tlieie rests no other shift but this, — . 
 To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, 
 And lay new platforms to endamage them. 
 
 Alarum. Enter an Enqlish Soldier, crying, a 
 Talbot! a Talbot! 'They jly, having their 
 clothes behind. 
 
 Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. 
 The cry of Talbot serves me lor a sword ; 
 For I have loaden u:e with many spoils. 
 Using no other weapon but his name. [Exit, 
 
 Scene II. — Orleans. Within the Toivn. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, a Captain, 
 and others. 
 
 Bed. The day begins to break, and night !s fled. 
 Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 
 Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. 
 
 [Retreat sounded) 
 
 Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury; 
 And here advance it in the market-place. 
 The middle centre of this cursed town. — 
 Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ; 
 For every drop of blood was drawn from iiim. 
 There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. 
 And, that hereafter ages may behold 
 What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, 
 Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
 A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd '■ 
 Upon the which, that every one may read. 
 Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans ; 
 The treacherous manner of his mournful death. 
 And what a terror he had been to France. 
 But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
 I muse, we met not with the Dauphin's grace ; 
 His new-come champion, virtuous John of Arc ; 
 Nor any of his false confederates. 
 
 Bed 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fighl 
 began, 
 Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds 
 They did, amongst the troops of armed men. 
 Leap o'er the walls ."Dr refuge in the field. 
 
 Bur. Myself (as far as I could well discern. 
 For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night,) 
 Am sure, I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull; 
 Wh?n arm iu arm they both came swiftly ru 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 599 
 
 Like to a pair of lovinj^ turtle-doves, 
 That could not live asunder day or night. 
 After that things are set in order here, 
 Weil follow them vvitli all the power we have. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. All hail, my lords ! which of this princely 
 train 
 Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
 So niiicli applauded tlnontjh the realm of France ? 
 
 Tal. Here is the Talbot ; who would speak with 
 him ? 
 
 3Tess. 'J'he virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne, 
 With modesty admiring thy renown, 
 liy me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe 
 'J'o visit her poor castle where she lies; 
 That she may boast, she hath belield the man 
 Whose glory fills the world wifh loud report. 
 
 Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see, our wars 
 Will turn niito a peaceful comic sport, 
 When ladies crave to be encounter'd with. — 
 ^ on may not, uiy lord, despise her gentle suit. 
 
 Tffl. Ne'er trust me then ; for, when a world of men 
 Could not pre\ail with all their oratory. 
 Vet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd : — 
 And therefore tell her, I return great thanks: 
 And in submission will attend on her. — 
 Will not your honours bear me company ? 
 
 Bed. No, truly ; it is more than manners will : 
 And 1 have heard it said, — Unbidden guests 
 Areolten vvelcomest, when they are gone. 
 
 Tal. Well tiien, alone, since there's no remedy, 
 I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. 
 Come hither, captain. {Whispers.) — You perceive 
 my mind. 
 
 Caot. I do, my lord ; and mean accordingly. 
 
 [Exettnt. 
 
 Scene lU.—Auverr;7ie. Court of the Castle. 
 Enter the Countess and her Porter. 
 
 Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge ; 
 And, when you have done so, bring the keys to me. 
 
 Port. Madam, I will. [Exit. 
 
 Count. The plot is laid : if all things fallout right, 
 I shall as famous- be by this exploit. 
 As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death. 
 Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight. 
 And his achievements of no less account : 
 Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, 
 Togi\e their censure of these rare reports. 
 
 Enter Messenger and Talbot 
 
 Mess. Madam, 
 According as your ladyship desir'd. 
 By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come. 
 
 Count. And he is welcome. What! is this the 
 
 Mess. Madam, it is. [man ? 
 
 'Count. Is this the scourge of France ? 
 
 Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad, 
 That with his name the mothers still their babes? 
 I see, report is fabulous and false : 
 I thought, I should have seen some Hercules, 
 A second Hector, for his grim aspect, 
 And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. 
 Alas ! tins is a child, a silly dwarf: 
 It cannot be, this weak and writhled shrimp 
 Should strike such terror to his enemies. 
 
 Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you : 
 But, since your ladyship is not at leisure, 
 I'll sort some other time to visit you. 
 > Count, What means he now ? — Go ask him, 
 whither he goes. 
 
 Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves 
 To know the cause of your abrupt departure. 
 
 Tal, BLirry, for that she's in a wrong belief, 
 I go to certify her, Talbot's here. 
 
 Re-enter Porter, with keys. 
 Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. 
 Tal. Prisoner! to whom? 
 
 Count. 'To me, blood-ll-.irsty ! 
 
 And for that cause 1 traind thee to my house. 
 Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, 
 For ir> my gallery thy picture hangs: 
 But now the substance shall endure the like ; 
 And I will chain these legs and arms oi' thine, 
 'i'liat hast by tyranny, these n.any years. 
 Wasted our country, slain our citizens. 
 And sent our sons and husbands capti\ate. 
 
 Tal. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Count. Langhest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall 
 turn to nio:in. 
 
 Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond, 
 To think that you have aught but Talbofs shadow, 
 V\ hereon to practise your severity. 
 
 Cottnt. Wliy, art nut thou the man ? 
 
 Tal. I am indeed. 
 
 Count. Then havft I substance too. 
 
 Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: 
 You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here; 
 For what you see, is but the smallest part 
 And least pro))ortion of humanity : 
 I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here. 
 It is of such a spacious lofty pitch. 
 Your roof were not sudicient to contain it. 
 
 Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce : 
 He will be here, and yet lie is not here: 
 How can these contrarieties agree ? ^ 
 
 T'al. That will I show you presently. 
 
 He tvinds a horn. Drums heard; then a peat 
 of ordnance. The Gates being forced, ente* 
 Soldiers, 
 
 How say you, madam? are you now persuaded 
 That Talbot is but shadow of himself ? 
 These are his substance, sinew, arms, and strength, 
 With which he yoketh your rebellious necks ; 
 Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns. 
 And in a moment makes them desolate. 
 
 Count. Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse: 
 1 find, thou art no less than fame hath bruited. 
 And more than may be gather'd by the shape. 
 Letnry presumption not provoke thy wrath; 
 For I am sorry, that with reverence 
 I did not entertain thee as thou art. 
 
 Tal. Be notdismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue 
 The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
 The outward composition of his body. 
 What you have done hath not offended me : 
 No other satisfaction do I crave. 
 But only (with your patience,) that we may 
 Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have ; 
 For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well 
 
 Count. With all rny heart ; and think lue honoured 
 To feast so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — London. The Temple Garden, 
 Enter the Earls o/Somerset, Suffolk, and War- 
 wick; Richard Plantagenet, Vernon and 
 
 another Lawyer. 
 
 Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what nieana 
 thi%silence ? 
 Dare no man answer in a case of truth ? 
 
 Suf, Within the Temple hall we were too load," 
 The garden here is more convenient. 
 
 Plan. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the truth; 
 Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error? 
 
 Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law ; 
 And never yet could frame my will to it; 
 And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. 
 
 SotH. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then be 
 tween us. [pitch 
 
 War. Between two hawks, which flies the liiijlie 
 Between two dogs, which hath the deeper moutli ; 
 Between two blades, which bears the better temper 
 Between two horses, which doth bear him best; 
 Between two girls, whi.^h hath the merriest eye ; 
 I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment? 
 But in these nice sharp quillets of the law. 
 Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 
400 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Plan. Tut, tut, here is n mannerly forbearance : 
 The truth appears so naked on my side, 
 
 Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd. 
 That any purblind eye may find it out. 
 So clear, so shining;, and so evident, 
 That it will glimmer lliroiigli a blind man's eye. 
 
 Plan Since you are tongue ty"d, and so loath 
 to speak, 
 In dumb sijjnilicants proclaim your thoughts: 
 Let him, that is a line born gentleman, 
 And stands upon the honour of his birth, 
 If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, 
 From oil liiis brier pluck a white rose with me. 
 
 Sum. Let him, that is no coward, nor no Hatterer, 
 But dare maintain the party of the truth, 
 Plnrk a red rose from olf this thorn with me. 
 
 War, I love no colours ; and, without all colour 
 Of base insinuating flattery, 
 1 pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet. 
 
 Suf. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset; 
 And say withal, I think he held the right. 
 
 Yer. Stay, lords and gentlemen ; and pluck no 
 more. 
 Till you conclude — that he, upon whose side 
 The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree. 
 Shall yield the other in the right opinion. 
 
 Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected ; 
 If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. 
 
 Plan. And I. 
 
 Ver. Then, for the truth and plainnessof the case, 
 f pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here, 
 Giving my verdict on the white rose side. 
 
 Som. Prick not your (inger as you pluck it off; 
 Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red. 
 And fall on my side so against your will. 
 
 Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed. 
 Opinion shall be surgeSn to my hurt, 
 And keep me on the side where still I am. 
 
 Som. Well, well, come on : Who else ? 
 
 Law. Unless my study and my books be false, 
 The argument you held, was wrong in you ; 
 
 [To Somerset.) 
 In sia;n whereof, I pluck a white rose too. 
 
 Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? 
 
 Som. Here, in my scabbard ; meditating that, 
 Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. 
 
 Plan. Alean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our 
 roses ; 
 For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
 The truth on our side. 
 
 Som. No, Plantagenet, 
 
 "Tis not for fear; but anger, — that thy cheeks 
 Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; 
 And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. 
 
 Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? 
 
 Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet ? 
 
 Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth ; 
 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. 
 
 So7n. Well, ril find friends to wear my bleeding- 
 roses. 
 That shall maintain what I have said is true. 
 Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
 
 Plan. Now. by this maiden blossom R> my hauck^ 
 I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. 
 
 Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. 
 
 Plan. Proud Poole, I will ; and scorn both him 
 and thee. 
 
 Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. 
 
 Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole I 
 We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. 
 
 War. Now by God's" will, thou wrong'st him, 
 Somerset; 
 His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, 
 Third son to the third Edward king of England; 
 
 pring creslless yeomen from so deep a root? 
 
 Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege. 
 Or darst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
 
 Som. By Him that made me, 111 maintain my words 
 On a ly plot of ground in Christendom : 
 Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, 
 
 For treason executed in our late king's days? 
 And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attained. 
 Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? 
 His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ; 
 And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman. 
 
 Plan. My father was attached, not attainted; 
 Condemn'd to die lor treason, but no traitor ; 
 And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, 
 Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. 
 For your partaker Poole, and you yourself, 
 I'll note you in my book of memory. 
 To scourf,e you for this apprehension : 
 Look to it well ; and say you are well warn'd. 
 
 Som. Ay, thou shalt find ns ready for thee still : 
 And know us, by these colours, for thy foes ; 
 For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear. 
 
 Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose 
 As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate. 
 Will I for ever, and my faction, wear; 
 Until it wither with me to my grave. 
 Or flourish to the height of my degree. 
 
 Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition • 
 And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. 
 
 Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, ambi- 
 tious Richard. [Exit, 
 
 Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce en- 
 dure it ! [house. 
 
 War. This blot, that they object against your 
 Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament. 
 And, if thou be not then created York, 
 I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 
 IMean time, in signal of my love to thee. 
 Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, 
 Will I upon thy party wear this rose : 
 And here I prophesy, — This brawl to-day. 
 Grown to this faction, in the Temjjle garden, 
 Shall send, between the red rose and the white 
 A thousand soids to death and deadly night. 
 
 Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you, 
 'Tliat you on my behalf would pluck a flower. 
 
 Yer. In your behalf still will I wear the same. 
 
 Law. And so will I. 
 
 Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 
 Come, let us four to dinner : I dare say, 
 This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — T/ie same. A Boom in the Tower. 
 
 Enter Mortiiher, brought in a chair by ttvu 
 Keepers. 
 
 Mor. Kind keepers of my weak, decaying age. 
 Let dying Mortimer here rest himself — 
 Even like a man new haled from the rack. 
 So fare my limbs with long imprisonment : 
 And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 
 Nestor- like aged, in an age of care. 
 Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
 These eyes, — like lamps whose wasting oil is 
 
 spent, — 
 Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent : 
 VV^eak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief; 
 And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine 
 That droops his sapless branches to the ground : — 
 Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is D'jmb, 
 Unable to support this lump of clay, — 
 Swift- winged with desire to get a grave. 
 As witting I no other comfort have. — 
 Rut tell me, keeper, will my nephew come ? 
 
 1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come 
 We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber ; 
 And answer was return'd, that he will come. 
 
 Mor. Enough ; my soul shall then be satisfied. — 
 Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine. 
 Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
 ( Before whose glory I was great in arms, ) 
 This loathsome sequestration have I had ; 
 And even since then hath Richard been obscar'o, 
 Depriv'd of honour and inheritance: 
 But now, the arbitrator of despairs, 
 Just death, kind umpire of mens miseries. 
 With sweet enlargement doth disuiis.s me hence ; 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY YI. 
 
 401 
 
 I would, lii3 (roubles likewise were cx4)ir'ii. 
 That so he luijjiit recover wiiat was lost. 
 
 Enter Uichaud Plantagenet. 
 
 1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. 
 
 Mor. Richard I'iantageuet, niy Iriend? Is he 
 come :" 
 
 Plan. Ay, noble nncle, thus ignobly us'd, 
 Your nephew, late-despised Ricliaid, cowios 
 
 Mor. Direct mine anus, I may embrace his neck, 
 And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: 
 O, tell me, when my lips do touch liis cheeks. 
 That I may kindly give one lainting kiss. — 
 And now declare, sweet stem liom York's great 
 
 stock. 
 Why didst thou say — of late thon wert desjns'd ? 
 
 P/an.Virst, lean thine aged back ag.iinst mine arm ; 
 And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my (iisease. 
 Thi^day, in argument, upon a case. 
 Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and nie : 
 Among which terms he used his lavish tongue. 
 And did upbraid me with my frither's death ; 
 VVliich obloquy set bars belore my tongue. 
 Else with the like I had requited him : 
 Therefore, good uncle, — for my lather's sake. 
 In honour of a true Plautagenet, 
 And for alliance' sake, — declare the cause 
 My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head. 
 
 Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that iEiiprison'd me. 
 And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth. 
 Within a loatlisome dungeon, there to pine. 
 Was cursed instrument of his decease. 
 
 Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was ; 
 For 1 am ignorant, and cannot guess. 
 
 Mor. I will ; if that my fading breath permit. 
 And death approach not ere my tale be done. 
 Henry the fourth, grandfather to this king, 
 Depos'd his nephew Richard ; Edward's son. 
 The first begiitten, and the lawful heir 
 Of Edwaid kuig, the third of that descent: 
 During whose reign, the Percies of the north, 
 I'indmg his usuip.ition incjst unjust, 
 Endeaviiur'd n\y advancement to the (hrone: 
 The reason'muv'd ihese warlike lords to this. 
 Was — for that (young king Richard thus reniov'd. 
 Leaving no heir begotten of his body,) 
 i was I he next by birth and parentage; 
 For by my mother I lierived am 
 From Lionel duke of Clarence, the (bird son 
 To king Edwaril the third, whereas he 
 I'^rom ,l(ihn of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, 
 Hemg but fourth of that heroic line. 
 But mark ; as, in tills haughty great attempt, 
 Tiiey laboured to plant the rightful heir, 
 1 lost my liberty, and they their lives. 
 jjong after this, when Henry the fifth, — 
 Siicceediug his father iJolin^broke, — did reign, 
 'i'hy father, earl of Cambridge, — then deriv'd 
 From famous Eiliiiund Langley, duke of\ork, — 
 Marrying uiy sister, that thy mother was, 
 Again, in pity ot my hard distress. 
 Levied an army : weening to redeem, 
 And have install'd me in the diadem : 
 But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, 
 And was beheaded. Thus the AL)rtimers, 
 la whom the title rested, were suppress'd. 
 
 Plan. Of which, my lord, ymir honour is the last. 
 
 3Ior. True ,• and thou seest that 1 no issue have ; 
 And that my fainting words do warrant death : 
 Thou art my hoir; the rest, I wish thee gather: 
 But yet be wary in thy studious care. 
 
 Plan. Thy grave admonishinents prevail with me: 
 Rut yet, methinks, my father's execution 
 Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. 
 
 Mor. vVith silence, nephew, be thou politic ; 
 Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster, 
 And, like a mountain, not to be remov'd. 
 But now tliy uncle is removing hence; 
 As princes do their courts, wiien they are cloy'd 
 With ioiig continuance in a settled place. 
 
 Plan, (j, uncle, would some part of my youcg 
 years 
 Might hut redeem the jiassage of your age! 
 
 Mor. Thou dostthen wrong tne, as the slaught'rer 
 doth. 
 Which giveth many wounds, when one will kill. 
 Mourn not, excejit thou sorrow for my good ; 
 Only, give older for my funeral ; 
 And so farewell ; and i'air be all thy hopes ! 
 And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war ! 
 
 {Dies . 
 
 Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul ! 
 In jjrisun hast ihou spent a pilgrimage. 
 And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. — 
 Well, I \'. ill lock his counsel in my breast; 
 And what I do imagine, let that rest. — 
 Keepers, convey him hence ; and I myself 
 Will see his burial better than his life. — 
 
 [Exeunt Keepers, beariytrj out Morllmer, 
 Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, * 
 Choked with ambition of the meaner sort: — 
 And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, 
 Which Somerset hath oti'er'd to my house, — 
 I doubt not, but with honour to redress: 
 And therefore haste I to the parliament ; 
 Either to be restored to my blood. 
 Or make my ill the advantage ot.my good. [Exit. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Scene I. — T/ie same. The Parliament House. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Gi.oster, 
 Warwick, Somerset, and Suffolk ; the Bishop 
 of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, and 
 others. (J loster offers to put tip a bill ; Win- 
 chester snatches it and tears it. 
 
 Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, 
 \Vith written pamphlets studiously devis'd, 
 iluiuphrey of UiosterV if thou can'st accuse, 
 Or aught intend'stto lay unto my charge. 
 Do it without invention suddenly ; 
 .\s I with sudden andextemporal speech 
 Purpose to answer what tuoii canst object. 
 
 Gio. Presumptuous priest I this place conimaud& 
 my patience. 
 Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me. 
 'I'iiink not, altiiough in writing I preferr'd 
 'i'he manner of thy vile outrageous crimes. 
 That tiierefore I liave forg'd, or am notable 
 Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: 
 No, prelate ; such is tby audacious wickedness. 
 Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, 
 As very infants prattle of thy pride. 
 Thou art a most pernicious usurer : 
 Froward by Attiire, enemy to peace; 
 Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems 
 A mail of thy profession, and degree; 
 And for thy treachery, VYhat's more manifest? 
 in that thou laidst a trap to take my life. 
 As well at Londiui bridge, as at the 'J'ouer? 
 Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted. 
 The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
 From eftvious malice of thy swelling heart. 
 
 Win. Gloster, I do defy thee. — Lords, vouchsaf* 
 To give me hearing what I shall reply. 
 Jf I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse. 
 As he will have me. How am I so poor? 
 Or how haps it, I seek not to advance 
 Or raise myself, but keep my \vouted calling ? 
 And for dissention, Who preferreth peace 
 More than I do, — except I be pro\ok'd? 
 No, my good lords, it is not (hat oll'euds ; 
 It is not that, tlial hath incens'd the duke : 
 It is, because no one should sway but he; 
 No one, but he, should be about the king ; 
 And that engenders tiuinder in his breast. 
 And makes him roar these accusations forth. 
 But he shad knosv, I am as good 
 
 Glo. As good ? 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather! — 
 
 26 
 
402 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act in. 
 
 n'in. Ay, lordly sir; For wliat are yon, I pn.y, 
 Kiit one imperious in am llier's (liroiie ^ 
 
 (Jh. Aril i not tlif ( rcterlor, saucy priest? 
 
 if^in. And am F not a prelate of tiie eliiirih? 
 
 Clo. Ves, as an outlaw in a caslle keeps, 
 An<! iisetli it to patTona^c lus tiieit. 
 
 V/in. Uiirevereiit CJIoster ! 
 
 Qlo. Thon art reverent 
 
 Tomliinii thy s)>iritiial function, not thy 1:1c. 
 
 Win. Tliis Home sliali remedy. 
 
 War. Iioaiii thither then. 
 
 Soin. My lord, it were yonr doty to inrbear. 
 
 War. Ay, see the bisliop be not oierlnone. 
 
 Som. Methiiiks, my lord .sluiulil be religious, 
 And kn;Av the ullice thai b.-lon^s to such. 
 
 War. Methiiiks, his lurdship should be humbler ; 
 U fideth not a prelate so to pleatl. 
 
 Svin. Ves, when lii.s holy slate is toiich'd so near. 
 
 War. State liily, or iiiiliallow'd, what oC that :* 
 Is not his f;race protector to the kini; ''' 
 
 Plan. I'laiitagcnet, 1 see, rrui.st hold his tongue ; 
 Lest il be' said, Speak, sirrah, whin yutt should ; 
 Must your bold uerdic/ vnlvr talk with lords! 
 Else wiiuld I have a (lion at V\'iiiche,>iter. {Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. Uncles ot Glusler, and of Winchester, 
 The special watchmei) of oirr iMistlisli weal ; 
 I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, 
 To join your hearts in love and amity. 
 (), what a scandal is it to our crown. 
 That tv^o such noble peers as ye, should jar I 
 IJelieve me, lords, my tender years can teil. 
 Civil dissention is a viperous wornr, 
 'J'hnt gnaws the bowels of the coinmonweaUh. — 
 
 (^1 noise within ; Down with the tawny coats !) 
 What tiiinnlts this? 
 
 War. An ii|)roar, i dare warrant, 
 
 Begun through malice of the bishop's men. 
 
 {A noise ayain ; Stones ! Stones .') 
 
 Tluler the Mayor of London, attended. 
 May. O, my good lords, — and virtuous Heury, — 
 Pity tire city of Loirdon, pity us ! 
 The bishop arrd tlie duke of Cluster's nren, 
 Forbidden late to carry mry weapon. 
 Have till"<l their pockef;j fill of pebble-stones; 
 And, banding themselves in contrary parts, 
 Do pelt so last at one another's pale, 
 'J'liat manv have their giddy brains knock'd out : 
 ■Our windows are broke down in every street, 
 And we, ibr lear, compell'd to shut our shops. 
 
 Enter, slcirmishinr/, the retainers of Cluster and 
 Winchester, with bloody pates. 
 
 K. Hen. VVe charge yon, oii allegiance toourself, 
 To bold your slaiiglifring Irairds, and keep the peace. 
 Pray, urrcle CJIoster, irritigate this strife. 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, il we be 
 
 Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth. 
 
 2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. 
 
 {Skirntish again.) 
 
 Glo. Yon of my household, leave this pee\ isii b.'oil, 
 And set his niraccustoiir'd light aside. 
 
 1 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man 
 Just and upright ; and, for your royal birth, 
 'Inferior to none, but to his majesty : 
 And, ere that we will sutler such a prince, 
 So kind a father of the commonweal, 
 'INi be disgraced by an inkhorn mate. 
 We, and our wives, and children, all will fight, 
 And liaie our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes. 
 
 '2. Serv. Ay. and the very parings of our nails 
 Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. 
 
 (Siirinisk ayain.) 
 
 Gio. Stay , stay, I say . 
 
 And it you love me, as yon say you do, 
 Let uie persuade yon to forbear a while. 
 
 K. li. C), how this discord doth afflict uiy soul ! — 
 Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold , 
 My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? 
 Who should be pitiful, if you be not ? 
 
 Or who should study to prefer a peace, 
 11 hidy chuiclimen take de ight in broils? 
 
 War. My lord pioteitir, yield; — yield, Win- 
 chester ; — 
 Except you mean, with obstinate repulse, 
 'I'o sbiy your soiereign, and destroy the realm. 
 Von see what mischief, ami what murder too, 
 Hitli been enacted thiough your enmity; 
 I iieii be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. 
 
 Win. He sliall submit, or I will never yield. 
 
 Glo. Compassion on the king commands me sto(>p ; 
 O; , 1 would see his heart out, ere the prie.st 
 Sli'inld fver get that pri\ilege of me. 
 
 War. IJehold, my Pird of Winchester, the duke 
 Hath baiiish'd moody discontented luiy, 
 -As by his smoothed brows it doth appear: 
 W tiy look you still so stern, and tragical .^ 
 
 (Uo. Here, Winchester, I oiler thee my hand. 
 
 K. Hen. Fy, uncle Beaufort ! I have heard you 
 preach. 
 That malice was a great and grievous sin : 
 Anrl will not you maintain the thing you teach. 
 But prove a chief otlender in the same i 
 
 War. Sweet king! — the bishop hath a kiiid!y 
 gird.— 
 I'\ir shame, my lord of Winchester ! relent; 
 \\ hr.t. .shall a child in.striict you what to do? 
 
 Will. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee ; 
 Lcive for Ihy love, and hand for hand I give. 
 
 Glu. Ay ; but, I fear me, with a hollow heart. — 
 .See here, my friends and loviii!", countrymen; 
 'I'liis token serveth for a fl:ig of truce. 
 Betwixt oiirseUes, and all our followers: 
 So helf) me (Jod, as I dissemble not! 
 
 V/in. iSo help me God, as I intend it not! 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 K. TleJi. O loving uncle, kind duke of Gloster, 
 Howjoylul am I made by this contract ! — 
 Away, my m^isters! trouble us no more; 
 lint join in fiiciidship, as your lords have done. 
 
 1 Serv. Con'eiit ; I'll to the surgeon's. 
 
 '2 Serv. And so will I. 
 
 3 Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern 
 allords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, ^c. 
 
 War. Accept this sci-oll, most gracious smereign; 
 Which in the right of Richard Flaiitagenet 
 We do exhibit to your majesty. 
 
 Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick; — for, 
 sweet prince. 
 An if your grace mark every circnnistance, 
 Voir have great reason to do Richard right: 
 Fspecially, for those occasions 
 At FItliam-place I told your rrrajesty. 
 
 K. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of force: 
 Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, 
 Tliat liicliard be restored to his blood. 
 
 War. Let Kichard be restored to his blood ; 
 So shall his father's wrongs be recompeiis'd. 
 
 Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. 
 
 K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that alone. 
 But all the whole inheritance 1 give, 
 That doth belong unto the house of York, 
 From whence you spring by lineal descent. 
 
 Plan. Thy bumble servant vows obedience. 
 And humble service, till the point of death. 
 
 K. Hen. Stoop then, and set your knee against 
 my foot; 
 And, in reguerdoo of that duty done, _ 
 I girt Hiee with the valiant sword of York : 
 Rise, Kichard, like a true Plaiitageiiet ; 
 And rise created princely duke of York. 
 
 PUin. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall '. 
 And as my duty springs, so perish they 
 That grudge one thought against your majesty ! 
 
 All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke ol 
 York ! 
 
 Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of Y ork I 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Gio. Now will it best avail your majesty. 
 To cross the seas, and to be crowu'd in Fiance : 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 403 
 
 The presnice of a king engenders love 
 Ainoiiest his subjects, and iiis loyal Iriends • 
 As it (iisiuiiiiiatt'S Ills enemies. 
 
 K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, king 
 Henry )(oes ; 
 For friendly counsel cuts ofT many foes. 
 
 Glo. Your shii)S already are in readiness. 
 
 [Exeunt nil but Exeter. 
 
 Exe. .'Vy, we may niarcli in England, or in 
 France, 
 Not seeinjj what is likely to ensue : 
 This I, lie dlsseiiliin. grown lietwijrt (he peers, 
 ISariis nnder feii;ned ashes ot torg'd love, 
 And will at last break out into a II. one : 
 As fester'd members rot bat hy degrees, 
 'I'ill bones, and llesh, and sinews, fall away. 
 So will this base and en\ions discord breed. 
 And now I lear that fatal prophecy. 
 Which, in the time of Henry, nain'd the fifth, 
 W^as in the month of every sucking babe, — 
 'I'liat Henry, born at Moiiimoiith, should win all ; 
 And Hen;y, born at Wimlsor, should lose all : 
 W'hich is so plain, that Exeter dotli wish 
 His days may finish ere that hapless tune. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — France. Before Roiten. 
 
 Enter la Pucelle disgiti.ied. mid Soldiers dressed 
 nice couniri/Men, ivitli sacks iipun their backs. 
 
 Pitc. 'i'hese are the city g'ates, the gatesof Roiieu, 
 Thiongh which our policy must make a breach : 
 Take heed, be wary how yon place your words; 
 'I'alk like toe vulgar sort ol market-men, 
 That come to gatlier money lor their corn. 
 It' we have eulranee (as, I hope, we shall), 
 And that we find the slutlifiil watch but weak, 
 I'll by a sign give notice to our friends. 
 That Charles the Da phin may encounter them. 
 
 1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, 
 .4nd we be lords and rulers o\er Roiien; 
 Therefore w 'H knock. {Knocks.) 
 
 Guard. [Within.) Qui est la? 
 
 Puc. Paisans, pauvres ijens de France : 
 Poor market folks, liiat come to sell their corn. 
 
 Guard. Enter, go in; the market bell is rung. 
 
 [Opens the ijates.) 
 
 Puc. Now, Roiien, III shake thy bulwarks to the 
 ground. [Pucelle, §fc. enter the cit]/.) 
 
 Enter Charles, Bastard of Orle.^ns, Alencon, 
 and Forces. 
 
 Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem ! 
 And ince again we'll sleep secure in Roiien. 
 
 Bast. Here enter'd Pacelle. and her practisants ; 
 Now she is there, how will she specify, 
 Wli"re is the best and safest passage in? 
 
 Alen. By thrustins: out a torch from yonder tower; 
 Willi h,(uice discern'd, shews, that her meaning is, — 
 No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle on a battlement : holding out a 
 torch burninij. 
 
 Puc. Behold, this is tlu' happy wedding torch, 
 That joiiietli Uoiieu unto her couiitrynieu; 
 But biiriuiig latal to the 'I albotites. 
 
 Bast. See, noble CliarlesI the beacon of our friend. 
 Tile burnini; torch in yonder turret stands.^ 
 
 Char. Now siine it like a comet of revenge, 
 A ])rophet to the fall of all our foes ! 
 
 Alen. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; 
 Enter, and cry — The Dauphin'. — presently. 
 And liieu doe.<e(-ution on ilie watch. [Tl.ey enter.) 
 
 Alarums. Enter 'Va.lbot, and certain Emjlish. 
 
 Tal F^-ance, thou shalt rue this treason with 
 thy tears, 
 If 'J'albot but survive thy treachery. — 
 Pnce'le, that witch, that dunned sorceress, 
 H.»th urou;;lit tiiis hellish mischief unawares. 
 That hardly we escap'd th»- |)ride ot France. 
 
 [Exeunt to the Town. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions. Enter, from the 'Icwn 
 Bei!FOK!), hruut/ht in sirk. tn a chair, with 
 'I'ALBOr. liuitGUNDY, and the English Forcet^. 
 Then, enter on the walls, La Pucelle. Cuar 
 LES, Bastard, .•Xlencon, and others. 
 
 Puc. Good morrow, gallants', want ye corn for 
 bread ? 
 I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast. 
 Before he'll buy again at such a rate : 
 'Tvvas full of darnel; do you like the taste? 
 
 Bur. Scoffon, vile li nd, and sliamelesscourtczanl 
 I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, 
 And make thee curse the harvest of that corn, 
 
 Cha. Your grace may starve, jierhaps, before tl.nt ^ 
 time. 
 
 Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this 
 treason ! 
 
 Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard? break. 
 a lance, 
 And run a tilt at death within a chair? 
 
 Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, 
 Eiicoinpass'd with thy lustful paramours! 
 Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, 
 Ahd twit with cowar<lice a man half dead? 
 Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, 
 Or else kt Talbot perish with this sh.irne. 
 
 Puc. Are you so hot, sir? — Yet, Pucelle, hold 
 thy peace ; 
 If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.-*- 
 
 [Talbot, and the rest, consult together.) 
 God speed the | arliamentl who shall be the speaker.' 
 
 Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field ? 
 
 Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for 
 To try if that our own be ours, or no. [fools, 
 
 Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, 
 But lUito thee, Alencon, and the rest; 
 Will ye, like soldiers, come aud fight it out? 
 
 Alen. Signior, no. 
 
 Tal. Signior, hang! — base muleteers of France ! 
 Like peasant foot buys do they keep the walls. 
 And dare not take up arms like gentlemen, 
 
 Puc. Captains, away, let's get us from the walls, 
 
 For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks. — 
 
 God be wi' you, my lord ! we came, sir, but to tell 
 
 That we are here. lyoii 
 
 [Exeunt La Pucelle, §f'c.from the icalls. 
 
 Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long, 
 Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame ! — 
 Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, 
 (Prick'd on by |)ublic wrongs, suslain'd in France,'^ 
 Either to get the town again, or die : 
 And I, — as sure as English Henry lives. 
 And as his father here was conqueror; 
 As cure as in this late-betrayed (own 
 Great Coenr-de-lion's heart was buried ; 
 So sure I swear, to get the town, or die. 
 
 Bur. y\y vo« s are equal partners with thy vows 
 
 Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, 
 The valiant duke of Belford : — Come, my lord. 
 We will bestow you in some better place. 
 Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age. 
 
 Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me : 
 Here will I sit before the walls of Roiien, 
 And will be partner of your weal, or woe. 
 
 Bur. Couiageous Bedl'ord, let us now persuade 
 you. [read 
 
 Bed. Not to be gone from hence ; for once J 
 That stout Pendragoii, in his litter, sick. 
 Came to the field, and vanquished his foes : 
 Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts. 
 Because 1 ever found them as myself, 
 
 Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breas* ! — 
 Then be it so: — Heavens keep old Bedford safe 1 
 And now no more ado, brave Burgiiiidy, 
 But gather we our (brces out of hand. 
 And set upon our boasting enemy. 
 
 [Exeunt Burgundij, Talbot, and Forces, 
 leaving Bedford, and others. 
 
404 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Alarum. Excursmu. 'Enter Sir John Fastolfe, 
 and a Captain. 
 Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such 
 
 l\;i.ste ? 
 Fast. VVIiitherawny? to save myself by flight; 
 We are like to have the overthrow iijrain. 
 
 Crrp. What ! will you fly, and lea\e lordTalhot? 
 Fast. Ay, 
 
 All tiie Talhots in the world, to save my life. | Exit. 
 Cap. Cowardly kniglit! ill fortune follow tht-e ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Retreat. Excursions. Enter from the Toivn, L\ 
 I'ucEliLE, Alen^on, Ch^vrles, ^V\ and exeunt 
 flying. 
 
 Bed. Now, (jiiiet soul, depart when heaven please; 
 For 1 have seen our enemies' overthrow. 
 What is the trustor strength of foolish luanf 
 They, tiiat of late were daring with their scoirs, 
 Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
 
 [Dies, and is carried off in his chair. 
 
 Alarum. Enter Talbot, BvncvjiDY, and others. 
 
 Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again! 
 This is a double honoirr. Burgundy : 
 Yet. hea\ens have glory for (liis victory! 
 
 Bur. VVarlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
 Eushiines thee in his heait ; and there erects 
 Thy noble deeds, as valour's nionument. 
 . Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle 
 I think her old familiar is asleep : [now ? 
 
 Now uhi-re's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his 
 
 gleeks? 
 What, all a tnort ? Roiien hangs her head for grief, 
 Th.il .'ucii a \ariant couipany are tl^d. 
 Now will we take some order in the to\Vn, 
 Plaiiug therein sune expert ollieers ; * 
 
 And then dejjart to Paris, to the king; 
 For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies. 
 
 Bur. VV hat vvill.'i lord Talbot, pleasetli Burgundy. 
 
 Tal But yet, l^lore we go, let's not forget 
 The nolile duke ol Bedford, late d.ceas'd. 
 But .si'e his ex<>(juies fulfill'd in Roiien; 
 A biavi-r soldier iiever couched lance, 
 A gentler heart did never sway in court : 
 But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die ; 
 For tout's the end of human misery. [E.reunt. 
 
 Scene III. — T.'ie some The Plains near the Citt/. 
 
 Enter Ch.vules. the Bastard, Alencon, La 
 PucELLE, and Forces. 
 
 Puc. Disuiay not, princes, at this lecident. 
 Nor grie\e, that Roiien is so recovered: 
 Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, 
 For things, that are not to be remedied. 
 Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while. 
 And like a ptacock sweep along his tail ; 
 We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train. 
 If D.mpUin, and the rest, will be but rul'd. 
 
 Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto. 
 And ol thy cunning had no diffidence ; 
 One sudden fiil shall never breed distrust. 
 
 Bast. Search o it thy wit lor secret policies. 
 And we will make thee famous through the world. 
 
 A/en. We'll set thy statue in some holy place. 
 And have lliee reverenc'd like a bles.sed saint; 
 Employ thee tl.en, sweet virgin, for our good. 
 
 Puc. Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan de- 
 vise : 
 By fair per-iuasions, iiiix'H with sugar'd words. 
 We will entice the duke of Burgundy 
 'I'o l''a\e til • 'i'albot, and to follow us. 
 
 Char. Ay, marry, .sweeting, if wc could do that, 
 France we e no place for Henry's wariiors; 
 Nor vlioiild (li^t nation bnast it so with us, 
 But be extirped from our provinces. [France, 
 
 Alen. For e\er should they be expuls'd from 
 And not have title to an earldom here. [work, 
 
 Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will 
 
 To bring (his matter to the wished end. 
 
 [Drums heard.] 
 
 Hark I by the sound of drum, you nnty perceive 
 Tlieir powers are marching unto Paris ward. 
 
 'An Enrjlish Slarch. Enter, and pass over at a 
 
 distance, 'I'albot and his Forces. 
 There goes the 'i'albot, with his colours spread. 
 And all the trooi)s of linglish after him. 
 
 A French March. Enter the Dulce o/BuRGUNDr 
 and Forces. 
 
 Now, in the rearward, comes the duke, and his; 
 Fortune, in favour, makes hini lag behind. 
 SumnioQ a parley, we will talk with him. 
 
 (A parley sounded.) 
 
 Char. A parley with the duke ot Burgundy 'I 
 
 Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? 
 
 Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun- 
 tryman. 
 
 Bur. What say'st thou, Charles ? for I am march- 
 ing hence. 
 
 Char. Speak, Pucelle ; and enchant him with thy 
 words. 
 
 Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, 
 Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee, 
 
 Bur. Speak on; but be not over tedious. 
 
 Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, 
 .K\n\ see the cities and tjie towns deiac'd 
 By wasting 'ruin of the cruel llie ! 
 As lo(jks the mother on her lowly babe. 
 When death doth close his tender dying eyes, 
 See, see the pining malady of France ; 
 Behold the wounds, the most umiatural wounds. 
 Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast! 
 O, turn thy edged sword .another way ; 
 Strike those that hurt, and hint not those that help ! 
 One drjp of blood, drawn irom thy country's bo- 
 som, [gore ; 
 Shoidd grieve thee more than streams of foreign 
 Return thee, therefore, with a flood ol' tears. 
 And vvasli away thy country's stained spots I 
 
 Bur. Eillier she liath bewitch'd uie with her 
 Or nature makes me suddenly relent. [words. 
 
 Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims 
 on thee, 
 Doubting thy birth, and lawful progeny. 
 Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation. 
 That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake? 
 When Talbot hath set looting once in France, 
 And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, 
 Who then, but English Henry, will be lord, 
 And thou be thrust (uit, like a fugitive '? 
 Call we to mind. — and mark but this, for proof;- — 
 Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe'i' 
 And was he not in England prisoner? 
 But, wtien they heard he was thine enemy. 
 They set him free, without his ransom paid. 
 In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. 
 See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen, 
 And join'st with them will be thy slaui;ht('r-men. 
 Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord ; 
 Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms. 
 
 Bur. 1 am vanquisiied; these haughty words ol 
 her's 
 Have batter'J me like roaring cannon-shot, 
 And made me almost yield upon my knees. — 
 Fo'give me, country, and sweet countrymen! 
 And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: 
 My forces and my power of men are youis; — 
 So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. 
 
 Puc. Done like a Frenchman; turn, and turn 
 asjain! . [us fresh. 
 
 Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes 
 
 Bast. And duth beget new courage in our 
 breasts. [this, 
 
 Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part, in 
 And doth deserve a coronet ol gold. 
 
 Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our 
 powers ; ' 
 
Act IY. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 405 
 
 Aud seek how ws tnay [jrejiKlice tho foe. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene lY.— Pans. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter King f^ENRY, Gloster, and other Lords. 
 
 V'ernon, Basset, §'c. To them '1\vlbot, and 
 
 some of his Officers. 
 
 Tal. My p,riu;ioiis {iriiicc, — and honoiuaijle 
 peers, — 
 Jleaiiiig (if your ai;rival in this realm, 
 L lr,i\e awlii'ie given truce unto my wars. 
 To ilo my duty to triy sovereign : 
 in sisn wlicreol', tliis arm, — tlmt hath rcclaim'd 
 'io your obedience fifty liiitr»^sses, 
 Twelve cities, and seven walled towns ofstrength. 
 Beside five hiin lre<l prisoners of esteem, — 
 Lets fall liis sword belbre your highness' feet; 
 And, with siihmissive loyalty of heart, 
 Ascribes the gloiy of his conquest got, 
 1 irst to my God, and ncit unto your grace, 
 
 K. Hen. Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster, 
 Tint hath so long been resident in France ! 
 
 f'lo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. VVeicome, brave captain, and vicUtrious 
 lord ! 
 \V'hen I was young (as yet I am not old,) 
 l! d'l remember how my lather said, 
 A stxiuter champion never handled sword. 
 I/ong since we were resolved ot your truth, 
 Vour faithful service, and your toil in war; 
 Vet never have you tasted our reuard, 
 Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, 
 Hecause till now we never saw your face : 
 Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts, 
 We here create you earl of Shrewsbiu-y ; 
 Aud ia our rorou itioii ttke vour place. 
 
 [Exeimt Kincj Henry, Gloster, T.ilbot, 
 and Nobles. 
 
 Ver. Now, sir, to you, tliat vvere so hot at sea, 
 Dis^^rac n^ of tnese colours tiiat I wear 
 h\ lunour of my noble lord of York , — 
 Dar'st tiMU maintain the former words tiiou spak'st? 
 
 Has. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage 
 The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
 Agiinst my lord, the duke of Somerset. 
 
 Ver. Surah, thy lord I honour as he is. 
 
 lias. Why, what is he ? as good a man as York. 
 
 Ver. Hark ye ; not so : in witness, takf- ye that. 
 
 {Strikes him.) 
 
 Bas. Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is 
 such. 
 That, whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death ; 
 Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. 
 But I'll unto his majesty, and crave 
 I may have liberty to venge this wrong; 
 When thou shalt see, I'd meet thee to thy cost. 
 
 Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as 
 you ; 
 And, after, meet you sooner than you would. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT IV. 
 Scene I. — The same. A Room of State. 
 Enter King Hunry, Gloster, Exeter, York, 
 
 ScFFoLK.. Somerset, Winchester, Warwick, 
 
 Talbot, the Governor of Paris, and others. 
 
 Glo. Lnrd bishop, set the crown upon his head. 
 
 Win. God save king Henry, of that name the 
 sixth ! 
 
 Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath, — 
 
 {Governor kneels.) 
 That you elect no other king but him : 
 Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends ; 
 And none your foes, but such as shall pretend 
 Malicious practices against Ins stale : 
 'f'his shall ye do, so l^elp you rigliteous God ! 
 
 [Exeunt Gov. and his Train. 
 
 Enter Sir John Fastolfe. 
 
 Easi. My gracious sovereign, as ] rode 
 Calais, 
 
 fro 1 1 
 
 ! To haste unto your coronation, 
 A letter was delivered to my hands, 
 Writ to your grace from the duke of Hurgundw. 
 
 Tal. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, anri thee \ 
 I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee nest. 
 To tear the garter from Ihy cra\en"s leg. 
 
 {Ptnckinfj it off.) 
 (W^hich I have done) because nnworthily 
 Thou wast installed in that high degree. — 
 Paidon me, princely Henry, and the rest : 
 'i'his dastard', at the battle of Patay, 
 When but in all I was six th' usand strong, 
 And that the French were almost ten to one, — 
 Before we met, lu' that a stroke was given, 
 J^ike to a trusty squire, did run away; 
 In which ass.odt we lost twelve hundred men; 
 JMysell', and divers gentlemen beside, 
 VVere there surpris'd,*and taken prisoners. 
 'I'lien judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; 
 Or w hetlur that such cowards oup;ht to wear 
 This ornauient of knighthood, yea, or no. 
 
 Glo. '1 o say the truth, this fact was infamous, 
 And ill beseeming any common man; ' 
 Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. 
 
 Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords 
 Knights of the garter were of noble birth ; 
 Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage, 
 Such as were grown to credit by the wars ; 
 Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, 
 But always resolute in most extremes. 
 He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort. 
 Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight. 
 Profaning this most honourable order; 
 And should (if I were wurlliy to be judge,) 
 Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain 
 That doth [uesiime to boast of gentle blood. 
 
 K. Hen. Stain to thy coutjtrymrn ! thou hear'st 
 thy doom : 
 Be packing therefore, thon that wast a knight; 
 Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death. — 
 
 [Exit Fastolfe 
 And now, my lord protector, view the letter. 
 Sent from our uncle, duke of Burgundy. 
 
 Glo. What means h s grace, that he hafli clinnifd 
 Ins style ? fViewinrj the superscription, j 
 No more but, plain and bluntly, — To the king'/ 
 Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign ? 
 Or doth this churlish superscription 
 Pretend some alteration in good will? 
 What's here ? — I have, upon especial cause. — 
 
 (Reads.) 
 Mov'd with compassion of my country's tvreck. 
 Together ivith the pitiful complaints 
 Of such as your oppression J'eeds upon, — 
 Forsaken your pernicious faction. 
 And joirid with Charles, the rightful king oj 
 France. 
 
 monstrous tieachery ! Can this be so; 
 'I'hat in alliance, amity, and oaths. 
 
 There should br found such talse dissembling guile? 
 
 K Hen. W liat ! doth my uncle Biirgunrly revolt ? 
 
 Glo. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe. 
 
 K. Hen. Is tiiat the worst, this letterdoth contain? 
 
 Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. 
 
 K.Hen.\W\\yi\\eu,W(\ Talbot there shall talk 
 with him, 
 ."^nd give him chastisement for this abuse: — 
 My lord, how say you":' are you not content? 
 
 Tal. Content, my liege? Yes, but that I am 
 prevented, 
 
 1 should have begg'd I might have been emjiloy'd. 
 
 /<". iiew. Then gather strength, and march unto 
 him straight: 
 Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason; 
 An'l what offence it is, to flout his fricmls. 
 
 Tal. I go, my lord : in heart desiring still. 
 You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exii. 
 
 Enter Vernon and Basset. 
 Ver. Grant rae the combat, gracious sovereign. 
 
406 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV 
 
 Has. And me, my lord, grant ine the combat too . 
 York. This is my servaut; Hear him, noble 
 prince ! 
 
 Som. And this is mine ; Sweet Henry, favour 
 
 iiim ! 
 a. Hen. He {>!)tient, lords; and give them leave 
 to sjjeak. — 
 Sity, gentlemen, What makes you thns exclaim? 
 \iil wherefore erase you combat; or with wliom? 
 V'er. With him, my lord ; for he halh done me 
 
 Bas. And 1 with him; for he hatli done me 
 wron^. [comijlain? 
 
 K. Hen. What is that wroiifr, wliereof you both 
 First let me know, and then I'll answer yon. 
 
 liiis. Crossing the sea from England into France, 
 This fellow herewith envious carpiii;; tim-ne, 
 U|)braided me about the rose I wear ; 
 Saying — the sanguine colour of the leaves 
 1)1(1 represent my master's blushing clieoks. 
 When stubbornly he did repu:;n the trtith. 
 About :i rcitain question in the law, 
 Argnd betwixt the duke of York and him ; 
 With other vile and ignominious teiins: 
 In confutation of vvliirii rude reproach. 
 And in defence of my lord's worthiness, 
 I crave the benefit ol' law of arms. 
 
 Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord : 
 For tliDUgli beseem, witli f>irged quaint conceit. 
 To seta gloss upon iiis bold intent. 
 Vet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him; 
 And he first took exceptions at this b.Kl;;e, 
 Pronouncing — that the paleness of this flower 
 [Jewray'd the faiutness of my master's heart. 
 York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? 
 Sum. Your private grudge, my lord of \ork, wjH 
 Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. [out, 
 
 A'. Hen. Good Lord I what madness rules in 
 brainsick men ; 
 When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, , 
 Such factious emulations shall arise! 
 Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
 Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. 
 
 York. Let this dissension hrst be tried by fr^ht. 
 And then your highness shall command a peace. 
 Som. The quarrel loucluth none but us alone ; 
 Betwixt ourselves let us decide it tiirn. 
 
 York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. 
 Ver. Nay, let it rest wheie it liegan at first. 
 Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. 
 Glo. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife! 
 And perish ye, with your audacious prate I 
 Presumptuous vassals I are you not asham'd. 
 With this inunodest clamorous outrage 
 To trouble and disturb the king and us i 
 .\w\ you, my lords, — methinks you do not well, 
 I'o bear witli their perverse objections; 
 .Much less, to take occasion from their moulhs 
 I'll raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves; 
 1/1 t mc persuade you, take a better course. 
 
 Exe. It grieves his highness: — Good my lords, 
 
 be frienils. 
 K. Hen. Ccune hither, you, that would be com- 
 batants: 
 tienceforth, I charge you, as you love our f-ivonr, 
 1^ I'te to forget this quarrel, and the cause. — 
 k A you, my lords. — remember where we are; 
 111 France, amongst a fickle wavennn nation: 
 (!' they percei\e dissentions in our look.s, 
 And that within ourselves we disagree, 
 How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd 
 To wilful disobedience and rebel ? 
 Beside, What infamy will there arise. 
 When foreign jtrinces sliall he certdied, 
 That, for a toy, a thing of no regard. 
 King Henry's peers, and chief nobility, 
 Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France ? 
 O, think upon the coiujuest of my father. 
 My tender years, and let us notfiirego 
 That for » Inlle, that was bought witli blood ! 
 
 Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. 
 I see no reas(ui, if I wear this rose, 
 
 {Puttinfj on a red rcse.) 
 That any one should therefore be suspicious 
 I nnire incline to Somerset, than York : 
 Both are my kinsmen, and 1 love them both: 
 As vVf 11 tiiey may upbraid me with my crown, 
 Because, forsootli, the king of Scots is crown'd. 
 But your discretions belter can persuade, 
 'I'iian I am able to instruct or teach: 
 And therefore, as we hither came in peace. 
 So let us still continue peace and love. — 
 Cousin of York, we institute y(Uir grace 
 To he our regent in these parts of France : 
 And. good my lord of Somerset, unite 
 Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; — 
 And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors. 
 Go cheerfully together, and digest 
 Y'om' angry choleron your enemies. 
 Ourself, my lord protector, and the rt>st. 
 After some respite, will return to C^ais; 
 From thence to England; where I hope e'er long 
 To be presented, by your victories, 
 With Cliarles, Alen^un, and that traitorous rout. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeiait Kmg Ht;7iry, Glo. Soik, 
 Win. Suf. and Basset. 
 
 War. My lord of Yoik, I pronnse you, tlie king 
 I'rettily, methought, did play the orator. 
 
 York. And so lie did ; but yet I like it not, 
 In lliat he wears the badge of Somerset. Inol ; 
 
 War. 'I'nsh, that was but his fancy, blame hliii 
 I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. 
 
 York. And if I wist he did, — But let it rest; 
 Otiier affairs must now be managed. 
 
 Exeunt York, Warwick, and Vernon. 
 
 Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy 
 voice : 
 For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, 
 I fear, we should have seen decipher'd there 
 More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, 
 'I'han yet can be imagin'd or siippos'd. 
 But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
 'J'his jarring discord of nobility, 
 Thisshould'riiig of each other in the court. 
 This factious bandying of their favourites, 
 But that i-t dotii presage some ill event. <■ 
 
 'Tis much, when sceptres aie in ciiildren's hands ; 
 But more, wlien envy breeds unkind division; 
 There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 
 
 [Exii. 
 
 Scene II. — Before Bourdeaux. 
 Enter Talkot, ivith /lis Forces. 
 
 Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, triimi>eter. 
 Summon their general unto the wall. 
 Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls, the 
 
 General of the French Forces, and others. 
 Eiiglisli John 'i'albot, captains, calls you forth. 
 Servant in arms to Harry King of England ; 
 And thus he would, — Open your city gates. 
 Be humble to us ; call my sovereign yours,' 
 And do iiim homage as obedient subjects, 
 And I'll withdraw nie and my bloixly power: 
 But, if you frown upon this protfer'd peace, 
 You tempt tUe fuiy of my three attendants, ^ 
 Lean famine, quartering steel, and cliinhing lire; 
 Who, in a moment, even with the eaitii 
 Sludl lay your stately and air-hraving towers. 
 If you forsake the oiler ot their hive. 
 
 Gen. Thou ominous and fearlul <ivvl of death. 
 Our nation's terror and tiieir bicotly scourge! 
 Ttie period of thy tyranny approaclietli. 
 Oil us thou canst not enter, but by death: 
 For, I |)iotest, we are well fi)rlitied. 
 And strong eniiiuh to issue out and fight: 
 If thou retire, tlie Dauphin, Wfll app-inted. 
 Stands witii tiie snares of war to lan>;le tiiee : 
 On either hand tliee tlit-re are squadrons pi'tch'd. 
 To wall thee from the liberty olliight; 
 And no way canst thou turn thee for rcdresa. 
 
Scene 4, 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 407 
 
 But (leadi dolli front thee with appnrent s])()il, 
 
 And pale destruction meets thee iti llic (ace. 
 
 Ten thousand French iiave ta'en the sacrament. 
 
 To rive their dangerous artillery 
 
 Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. 
 
 Ijo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, 
 
 <)(' an invincible unconcjiier'd spirit: 
 
 This is the latest glory of thy praise, 
 
 Tliat I, thy enemy, due thee withal ; 
 
 For ere the glass, that now begins to riin. 
 
 Finish the process of his sandy hour. 
 
 These eyes, that see tl.ee now well coloured, 
 
 tshall see thee vvither'd, bloody, pale, and dt-ad. 
 
 [Driuus ajar off. 
 Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell. 
 Sings heavy music to thy timorous so(d ; 
 And mine shall ring thy due departure out. 
 
 [Exeiiiit General, ^'c. J'rom the walls. 
 Tal. He I'ablesnot, 1 hear the enemy ; — 
 Out, soMie liglit horsetnen, and peruse ttieir wings. — 
 O, negligent and h<'odless discipline I 
 How are we purk'd, and bounded in a pale; 
 A little herd ol England's li iioious deer, 
 Maz'd with a yelping kennel ol French curs! 
 Jf we be English deer, he then in blood: 
 Not rascal-like, to tall down vvitli a pinch; 
 But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags. 
 Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel. 
 And make the cowa:ds stand aloof athay; 
 8fll every man his life as dear as mine. 
 And they shall tiiid dear deerof us, my friends. — 
 tJod, and Saint George! Talbot, and England's 
 
 right ! 
 Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene HI. — Plains in Gascon tj. 
 Enter YoitK, with Forces ; to him a Messenger. 
 
 York. Are not the speedy scouts retnrn'd again. 
 That dogged the mighty army of the Jlaiiphin';' 
 
 Mess. I'hey are returned, my lord; and give it 
 out 
 That he is march'd to Bonrdeaiix widi his power. 
 To tight with Talbot: As he march'd along, 
 I'y your espials were dscovered 
 'l\vo mightier troops than that the Dauphin led ; 
 Which join'd with him, and made their inarcli for 
 B'lurdeaiix. 
 
 York. A plague upon that villain Somerjet, 
 That thus delays my promised suiy|)ly 
 Of horsemen, th it were levied for this siege! 
 Renowned I'albot doth expect my aid; 
 And I am lowted by a traitor villain. 
 And cannot help the noble chevalier : 
 Ood comfort liim in this necessity I 
 If lie miscarry, farewell wars in Prance. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucv. 
 
 Lucy. Tijou princely leader of our English 
 strength. 
 Never so needful on the earth of France, 
 Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot; 
 VVho now is girdled with a waist of iron. 
 And heniiu'd about with giim destruction: 
 'l"o Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to B uirdeaux, York ! 
 Else, farewell Talbot, France, and Eugland's ho- 
 nour, [luart 
 
 York. O God ! that Somerset — who in proud 
 Doth stop my cornets — were in Talbot's place! 
 So shoidd we save a valiant gentleman, 
 By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. 
 (Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep. 
 That tlius we die, while remiss traitors sleep. 
 
 Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd 
 lorrl ! 
 
 York. He dies, we lose ; I break my warlike word ; 
 We mourn. France smiles; we lose, they daily get ; 
 All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset. 
 
 Lucy. Tiien, God take mercy on brave Talbot's 
 ioul! 
 
 And (HI his son, young John ; wliom two hours since 
 I met in travel toward his warlike father! 
 This seven years did not Talbot sec his son ; 
 And now they meet where both their lives are done. 
 
 York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have. 
 To bid bis young son welcome to his grave ? 
 Away, vexation almost stops my breath. 
 That sunder'd fi lends greet in the hour of death. — 
 Lucy, farewell : no more my fortinie can. 
 But curse the cause 1 cannot aid the man. — 
 Maine, Blois, Foictiers, and Totirs, are won aw:iy, 
 'Long all ot' Somerset, and his delay. [Exit. 
 
 Lucy. Thus, while the vultiue f^f sedition 
 Feeds in the bosom of such gieat commanders. 
 Sleeping negleclion dotlibetiay to loss 
 ^riie coiKj'iest of our scarce-cold conqueror. 
 That ever living man of meinnty, 
 Henry the filth : — Whiles they each other cross. 
 Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to' loss. [Extl. 
 
 Scene W.— Other Plains ufGasconij. 
 
 Enter Somerset vnth his Forces ; an Officer of 
 Talbot's tvith him. 
 
 Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now • 
 This expedition was by York, and Taltiot, 
 'loo raslily plotted; all our general force 
 IMight with a sally of the very town 
 Be buckled with': (he over-daring Talbot 
 Hath sullied all his gloss of fiu-mer honour. 
 By (liis iiiiheedful, desjierate, wild adventure : 
 \ (uk sc't him on to fight, and die in sliaiue, 
 That Talbot dead, great Y'o k might bear the name 
 
 Off. Here is sir \Villiaui Lucy, who with me 
 Set iioni our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Soi?i. How now, sir William? whither were voii 
 sent ? 
 
 Lucy. VVniither, my lord ? fnmi boiight and sold 
 lord Talbot; 
 Who ring'd about with bold adversity. 
 Cries out for noble York ami Somerset, 
 'To beat assailing death from his weak legions. 
 And whiles the honourable ca|)tain there 
 Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs. 
 And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, 
 You, Ins false hopes, llie trust of l<>iiglaiid'3 honour. 
 Keep otf aloof with worthless emulation. 
 Let not your private discord keep away 
 'The levied succ;ours that should lend him aid, 
 VVhile he, renowned noble gentleman, 
 Yielfls up his hie unto a world of odds : 
 Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, 
 •Alencon, Keignier, com|iass him about. 
 And Talbot perisheth liy your default. 
 
 Som. York set him on, Yiuk should have sent liirn 
 aid. [claims; 
 
 Lucy. And \'ork as fast upon your grace eg- 
 Swearing, that you withhold his levied host, 
 Collected for this expedition. (horse: 
 
 Som. York lies; lie might have sent and had the 
 F owe him little duty, and less love; 
 And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending. 
 
 Lucy. 'The fraud of England, not the force of 
 France, 
 Hath nowentrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: 
 Never to England shall he bear his life ; 
 But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. 
 
 Som. Come, go; 1 will despatch the horsemen 
 straight : 
 Within six hours they will be at his aid. 
 
 Lucy. 'T<io lite comes rescue; he is ta'en, or slain: 
 For tly he could not, if he would have fled ; - 
 And Hy would Ta hot never, though hemiyht. 
 
 Som. If he be dead, brave 'Talbot then adieii! 
 
 Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in 
 you. [KxeunI 
 
408 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 ScSNE V. — The English Camp near Bourdeaux. 
 Enter Talbot and Joiiv his Son. 
 Tal. O yoriiig John Talbot! I did send for thee. 
 To tutor tliec in stratagems of war; 
 Tliat Talbot's name might be in tiiee reviv <1, 
 W^lien sapless age, and weak unable limbs, 
 SiKMild brnig thy i'atlier to bis drooping chair. 
 Bill, — O malignant and ill-boding stars !- 
 Now thou art come unto a feast of death, 
 A teVril)le and unavoided danger : 
 Therefore, dear boy, motmt on my swiftest horse ; 
 And I'll direct thee how thou shall escape 
 By siid<leij flight: come, dally not, begone. 
 
 John. Is my name Talbot? and am I yonr son? 
 And shall I fly ? O, if you love my mother. 
 Dishonour not her honourable name, 
 To make a bast;ird, and a slave of me : 
 The world will say — He is Talbot's blood. 
 That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood. 
 Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 
 John. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again. 
 Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. 
 John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly : 
 Your loss is great, so yo\ir regard should be; 
 My worth unknown, no loss is krjown in me. 
 Upon my death the Fieiich can little boast;. 
 In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
 Flight cannot stain the honour yon have won; 
 But mine it will, that no exploit have done : 
 Vou fled for vantage every one will swear; 
 But, if I bow, they II say — it was for fear. 
 There is no hope, that ever I will stay, 
 If, the first hoin-, I shrink, and run away. 
 Here, on my knee, I beg mortality. 
 Bather than life preserv'd with inf'amy. 
 
 Tal. Siiall all thy mother's hojjes lie in one tomb .^ 
 John. Ay, ratiier than I'll shame my mother'.s 
 
 womb. 
 Tal. Upon m'y blessing I command thee go. 
 John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. 
 Tal. Part of thy father m:>y be saved in thee. 
 John. No part of him, but will be shame in me. 
 Tal. Thou never had'st renown, nor canst not 
 lose it. [abuse it ? 
 
 John. "V'es, your renowned name ; Shall flight 
 Tal, 'Ihy fither's charge shall clear tliee from 
 
 that stain. 
 John. You cannot witness for nie. being slain. 
 If death be so apparent, then both fly. (die? 
 
 Tal. And leave my followers here, to tight, and 
 Wv age was never tainted with such shame. 
 
 John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame ? 
 No more can I be sever'd from your side. 
 Than can yourself yourself in twain divide : 
 Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; 
 F(ir live I will not, if my father die. 
 
 Tal. Then here 1 take my leave of thee, fair son. 
 Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
 Come, side by side together live and die ; 
 And soul with soul from Fiance to heaven fly. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI.— .1 Field of Bailie. 
 
 A larutn : Excursions, toherein Talbot's son is 
 hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. 
 Tal. Saint George and victory! light, soldiers, 
 fight; 
 The regent hath with Talbot broke his word. 
 And left ua to the rage of France his sword. 
 Where is John Talbot? — pause and take thy breath ; 
 I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death. 
 
 John. O twice my father ! twice am I thy son : 
 The life, thon gav'st me first, was lost and done, 
 Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, 
 To my diternnn'd time thou gav'st new date. 
 
 Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword 
 struck fire. 
 It warm'd thy father's heart with jiroud desire 
 Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age. 
 
 Qnicken'd with youtiiful spleen, and warlike rage. 
 Beat down Alencjon, Orleans, Biu'giinoy, 
 Aiid from the pride of Oallia rescu'd ti ee. 
 I he ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood 
 From th^ e, my boy; and had the maidenhnod 
 Of thy liist fii^ht — 1 soon encountered ; 
 And, interchanging blows, I (piickly shed 
 Some of his bastaid blood; and, in disgrace, 
 Bispoke him thus: Conlmninnled. base, . 
 
 And misbeijotte.n blood I spill uf thine, 
 lifean ajid rirjht poor ; Jar that pure blood of mine. 
 Which thou didst force from Talbot, my hrave 
 
 boy : — 
 Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy. 
 Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy fatlier's care ; 
 Art thon not weary, Jolin? How dost thou fire i 
 Wdt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly. 
 Now thou art seai'd the son of chivalry ?. 
 Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead ; 
 Tlie help of one stands me in little stead. 
 O, too much folly is it, well I wot, 
 'I'o hasard all our lives in one small boat. 
 If 1 to-(hsy die not vvith Frenchmen's rage, 
 To n)orrow I shall die with mirkle age: 
 By me they nothing gain, an if I stay, 
 'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day: 
 In thee thy mother dies, our household's name. 
 My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame; 
 All these, and more, we haza.d by thy stay ; 
 All these are sav'd, if thnu wilt flyaway. 
 
 John. The sword of Orleans hath not made nie 
 smart. 
 These words of yours draw life-blood from niyhe;>rt : 
 On that advantage, bought with such a shame, 
 (To sav e a paltry life, and slay bright fr>me,) 
 Before yoirng 'J'albot from old Talbot fly, 
 The coward horse, th;it bears me, tall and die! 
 And hke nie to the peasant boys of France ; 
 'I'o be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance ! 
 Surely, by all the glory you have won, 
 And if 1 fly, I am not I'albol's son : 
 Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; 
 If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. 
 
 Tal. Then follow thon thy desperate sire of Crete, 
 Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet : 
 If thou wilt light, fight by thy father's side; 
 And, commendable prov'd, let's die ia pride. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — Another jxirt of the same. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, 
 supjiurted by a Servant. 
 Tal. Where is my other life ? — mine own is 
 gone ;— 
 O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John? — 
 Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity ! 
 \ oung Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee :-- 
 When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee. 
 His bloody sword he brandish'd over ii»c, 
 And, like a hungry iion, did commence 
 Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; 
 But when my angry guaidant stood alone, 
 Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none, 
 Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart. 
 Suddenly made him from my side to start 
 Into the clustering battle of the French ; 
 And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
 His overmounting spiiit; and there died 
 My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, bearing the body ofJoiis Talbot. 
 
 Serv. O my dear lord ! lo, wliere your s(]n is biu ne ! 
 
 Tal. 'i'hou antic death, which latighst us here to 
 scorn. 
 Anon, fiom thy insulting tyranny, 
 Coupled in bonds of perpetuity. 
 Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, 
 III thy despite, shall 'scape mortality — 
 O thou, whose wounds become hard favoured de&ti), 
 Speak to tliy father, ere thou yield thy brealh: 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 409 
 
 Brave death I)y si>eakinpr, whether he will, or no ; 
 
 Imagine liiiii a'Frcnchuian, and thy foe. — 
 
 Poor boy ! he smiles, niethiuks ; as who should 
 
 s:iy— ' 
 Had deatii been French, tlien death had died to-day. 
 Come, cciiiie, and lay liitn in his lather's arms; 
 My spirit can no lon|;er bear tliese harms. 
 S/ldiers, adieu! 1 iiave wiiat I would have, 
 Now my old arms are ruund John Talbot's gra^e. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 A larums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servants, leaving 
 the two bodies. Enter Charles, Alencon, Bur- 
 gundy, Bastard., La Pucelle, and Forces. 
 
 Vltar. Had Voik and Somerset brought rescue in, 
 We sliould have found a bloody day of this. 
 
 Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging- 
 wood. 
 Did Hesh his |)imy sword in Frenchmen's blood! 
 
 Piic. Once I encounter'd him, and tiius I said, 
 Thott maiden youth, be vanquiah'd by a maid. 
 IJut — willi a proud, majesticai lii^h scorn, — 
 He answered thus : Yuunrj Talbot teas not born 
 To be the j>i/iage of a (jiylot wench : 
 So, rushuig in tne bowels of the French, 
 IJe left me pioudly, as uiiwiutliy (iuht. 
 
 Bur. Doulitless, he would have made a noble 
 kniyht: 
 See, where he lies inhersed in the arms 
 Of the ui.ist bloody nur.serof his harms; 
 
 Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones 
 asunder; 
 Whose life was Ensland'.s s'ory, Gallia's wonder. 
 
 Char. O, no ; forbear : for that, which we have 
 fled 
 During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 
 
 Enter Sir VV'illiam Lucy, attended; a French 
 Herald preceditig. 
 
 Lucy. Herald, 
 Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know 
 Who hiive obtaiii'd the glory of the day. 
 
 Char. O 1 what sidiuiissive message art thou sent ? 
 
 Lucy. Sul)mission, Dauphin .' 'tis a mere FVencli 
 word ; 
 We Eiioiish vvarriors wot not what it means. 
 I come to'know what prisoners tliou hast ta'en, 
 And to survey the bodies oi the dead. [is. 
 
 Char. For piisoners ask'st thou ? hell our p.-ison 
 But tell me whom thou seek st. 
 
 Ijncy. Where is the great Alcides of the field. 
 Valiant lord I'albot, earl of Shieusbury ? 
 Created, lor his rare success in arms. 
 Great earl of Washford, VV'aterford, and Valence ; 
 Lord Talbot ot Goodrig and Urchinlield, 
 'Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Veidini of Alton, 
 
 Lord Cr well of Winglield, loid Furuival of 
 
 SlielHeld, 
 The thrice victorious lord of Falconhridgc ; 
 Knight of the noble order of Saint-George, 
 Worthy Saint Alicliael, and the go, den tleece ; 
 Great uiarsliall to Henry the sixth. 
 Of all his wars williiii the realm of France ? 
 
 Puc. Here is a silly stntely style indeed ! 
 The I'urk, that two and filly kingdoms hath. 
 Writes not so tedious a style as tliis. — 
 Him, that thou maguifiest vvith all these titles, 
 Stinking, and fly blown, lifs here at our feet. 
 
 Lucy. Is Tilbot slain; the Freuchmens only 
 scourge. 
 Your kingdom's terror, and black Nemesis? 
 O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd, 
 That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces ! 
 O, that I could but call these dead to life? 
 It were enough to fright the realm of France : 
 Were but his picture left among you here, 
 It would am ize the [iroiidest of you all. 
 Give ine their bodies; that I may bear them hence. 
 And give them burial as beseems their worth. 
 
 Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost. 
 
 He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit 
 For Gods sake, let iiini have 'em; to keep theui 
 
 here, 
 They would but stink, and putrefy the air. 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
 
 Lucy. I'll bear them hence : 
 
 But from their ashes shall be rear'd 
 A phenix, that shall make all France afeard. 
 
 Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what 
 thou wilt. 
 And now to Paris, in this conquering vein ; 
 All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exeunl. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Room in the Palace 
 Enter^Kin'j Henry, Gloster, and Exeter. 
 
 A'. Hen. Ha\e you perus'd the letters from 
 the pope, 
 The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ? 
 
 Glo. I have, my lord, and their intent is this, — 
 They humbly sue unto your excellence. 
 To have a godly peace concluded of. 
 Between the realms of England and of France. 
 
 K. Hen. How doth your grace ali'ect their mo- 
 tion .'' 
 
 Glo. \V ell, my good lord ; and as the only means 
 To stop elfusiou ol our Chiistian blood. 
 And 'stablish quietness on every side. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle ; for I always IhouglU 
 It was both impious and unnatural, 
 That such immanity ;uid bloody strife 
 Should reign among p.rofessors of (uie faith. 
 
 Glo. Beside, my lonl, — the sooner to ellect. 
 And surer bind, tiiis knot of amity, — 
 The earl ol Armagnac — near knit to Charles, 
 A man of great authority in France, — 
 Prolfers his only daughter to your grace 
 In marriage, with a laige and sumptuous dowry. 
 
 K. Hen. JMarriage, uncle ! alas ! my years are 
 y()ung ; 
 And fitter is my study and my books, 
 Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. 
 Yet, call the aml)assadors ; and, as you i>lease. 
 So let then! have their answers every one : 
 I shall be well content with any choice. 
 Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal. 
 
 Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with 
 Winchester, in a cardinals habit. 
 
 Exe. What! is my lord oJ' Winchester install'd 
 And calld unto a cardiual's degree? 
 Then, I perceive, that will be verified, 
 Henry the fifth diil soiuetiiiie prophesy, — 
 If once he come to be a cardinal. 
 He II make his cap co-equal with the croivn. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords auibassadors. your several guila 
 Haie been cousider'd and debated on. 
 \ our purpose is both good and reasonable : 
 And, therefore, are we ceitainly resolv'<l 
 'I'o draw coiirlitioiis of a Irieiidly peace ; 
 VVhi'li, by my lonl of \V^in('hester, we mean 
 Shall be transported presently to France. 
 
 Glo. And for the profi'er of my lord your master,— 
 I iiave inform'd his hiuhiiess so at large. 
 As — liking of the lady's virtuous gifts. 
 Her beauty, and the \alue of her dower, — 
 He doth intend she shall be England's queen. 
 
 K. Hen. In argument and proof of which con- 
 tract, 
 Bear her this .jewel, {to the Amb.) pledge of my 
 
 atiection. 
 And so, my lord protector, see them guarded. 
 And safely brought to Dover: where, inshipp'd 
 Coinimt them to the futinie of (he sea. 
 
 [Exeunt King Henry and Train ; Gloster, Exe- 
 ter, and Ambassadors. 
 
 Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first re©ei»e 
 The sum of money, which I promised 
 Should be deliver'd to his holiness 
 
410 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 For cl/ithing nie in these yrave ornamoiits. 
 
 Livij. 1 w.ll Htteiui upon your loidslii 'k li'i.siire. 
 
 /f 171. Now, W jncljtstur will not submit, 1 trow. 
 Or he iiilcnur to the proiRh'.st peer. 
 lliiiii,iiiiey ol (Jlo.-itei, tin n shalt well j)ercei\e, 
 'I'lirit. iiMillier III liirtli. or I'ur aulhoiify, 
 Tlie liLshoji will be overborne by thee : 
 ill either make tliee stoop, and bend thy knee, 
 (.)r Siiclv this country witn a niuiniy. [Kxemit. 
 
 Scene II — France. Plains in Anjou. 
 Enter Chakles, Bukgundy, Alencon, La Pu- 
 CELLE, and Furies, murcliuiij. 
 Char, Tliuse news, my lords, nmy cheer our 
 drooping spirits : 
 Tis s.dd, tlie stout I'arisians do re\oit. 
 And linn again unto the warlike Freiiih. 
 
 A leu. 'I'lieii niaich to Paris, royal Ciiarles o( 
 France, 
 And keep not back your powers in dallia:ice. 
 
 Puc. Peace be anion^;st them, il they turn to us; 
 Else, riiiu combat witli tlieir palaces ! 
 
 Enter a McsseiKjer. 
 
 Mess. Success unto our valiant, general, 
 And happiness to his accomplices! 
 
 Char. VV'liiit tidings send our scouts? I pry'thce, 
 s|)fak. 
 
 Mess. Tlie English army, that divided was 
 Into two pans, is now conjoin'd in one ; 
 And nieuns to give you buttle pi-e.sently. 
 
 Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is ; 
 But we will pre-seully provide for them. 
 
 Bur. 1 trust the ghost of I'albi/t is not there; 
 Now he is gone, my lord, you need not Tear, 
 
 Puc. Ot'all base passions, fear is must accurs'd : — 
 Cominand the coiupiest, Charles, it shall be tliine ; 
 Let Henry I'ret, and all the workl refiine. 
 
 Char. Then on, my lords; and Frauce be for- 
 tunate ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ill. — The same. Before Aiiyiers. 
 Alarums : Excursions. Enter La Pucelle. 
 Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenciiinen 
 
 iiy— I 
 
 Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts; 
 
 And ye ciioice spirits, that admonish me, 
 
 And give me signs of future aixidents ! {Thunder.) 
 
 You speedy helpers, that are substitutes 
 
 Under the lordly monarch of the noith. 
 
 Appear, and aid ine in, this enterprise! 
 
 Enter Fiends. 
 
 This speedy quick appearance argues proof 
 
 Ol your accubtomVl diligence to me. 
 
 Now, ye lamiliar spirits, that are cull'd 
 
 Out ol the powerful regions under earth. 
 
 Help me tins once, tiiat France may get tlie fiild. 
 
 [They walk about, and speak nut.) 
 O. hold me not witii silence over long! 
 W'liere 1 was wont to leed you with iny blood, 
 I'll lop a member oil, and give it you. 
 In earnest of a fiirlher benelit ; 
 So you do condescend to help me now. — 
 
 [Tliey hanrj their heads.) 
 No hope to have redress? — My body .shall 
 Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 
 
 ( They shake their heads.) 
 Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrilice, 
 Lntreat you to your wonted furtherance ? 
 'I'lien lake my soul; my body, soul, and all. 
 Before that Eugland give the French the foil. 
 
 [They dejiart.) 
 See ! they forsake me. Now the time is come, 
 That Frauce luiisl vail her lofly-plumed crest. 
 And let her head fall into Kngland's lap. 
 My ancient incantations are too weak. 
 And hell too sLrong lor me to buckle with : 
 Now, Frauce, thy glory droopetli to the dust. 
 
 iExit. 
 
 Alarums. Enter French and Eru/lixh, fujhtiny. 
 JjA Pucelle and \ OV.V. Jiijhl hand to hand. La 
 Pucelle is taken. The French Jbj. 
 
 York. Damsel of France, I tliink, I have you fast: 
 Unchain your spirits now with spelling ciiarms, 
 And try if ihey can gain your liberty. — 
 A goodly prize, ht lor the devil's grace ! 
 See, how tjie ugly witch doth bend her brows. 
 As if, with Circe, she would change my .shape. 
 
 Puc. Chang d to a vvorser shape thou canst not be 
 
 York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; 
 No sliajie hut his can please your dainty eye. 
 
 Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and 
 thee! 
 And may ye both be suddenly snrpris'd 
 By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds ! 
 
 \ork. Fill, banning hag ! enchantress, hold thy 
 tongue. 
 
 Puc. 1 pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while. 
 
 York. Cni.'io. miscreant, when thou comest to 
 the stake. [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady 
 Margaret. 
 
 Suf. Be what thou uilt, Ihou art my prisoner. 
 
 [Ga-zes un her.) 
 
 fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 
 
 l-oi I will tiiucli thee but with reveient hands, 
 .\nd lay them gently on' thy tender side. 
 
 1 kiss these lingers {kissing her hand) for eternal 
 
 peace ; 
 Who art thou ? say, that I may honour thee. 
 
 3Iar. Mirgaret my name ; and daughter to a king. 
 The king ol Naples, whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 Suf. All earl I am, and Suffolk am 1 call'd. 
 He not oilemlrd, nature's miracle, 
 'I'liou art allotted to be ta'en by me : 
 So doth the swan her downy cygnet.s save. 
 Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings. 
 \ et, il this servile usage once < ll'end. 
 Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend. 
 
 {She turns away as going.) 
 O, stay ! — I have no [lOwer to let her pass ; 
 iMy hand would free her, but my heart says — no. 
 As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, 
 Twinkling another counterfeited beam. 
 So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
 Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : 
 I'll call lor pen and ink, and write my mind : 
 Fy, De la Poole! disable not thyself; 
 Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner? 
 Wilt lliou be daunted at a woman's sight? 
 Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such. 
 Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough. 
 
 Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, — if thy name be so, — » 
 VVIiat raiisorne must 1 pay before I pass? 
 For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner. 
 
 Suf. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit. 
 Before thou make a trial of her love ? [Aside.) 
 
 Alar. VVliy speak'st thou not? what ransome 
 must I pay';" 
 
 Suf. She's beautiful ; and therefore to be vvoo'd ; 
 She IS a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside.] 
 
 Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea, or no :' 
 
 Suf. Fond man ! remember, that thou hast a wife ; 
 Then how can INIargaret be thy paramour? [Aside.) 
 
 Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear. 
 
 Si/f. There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling card. 
 
 Mar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is mad 
 
 Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 
 
 Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me. 
 
 Suf. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom ? 
 Why, for my king : Tush ! that's a wooden thing. 
 
 Mar. He talks of wood : it is some carpenter. 
 
 Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied. 
 And peace established between these realms. 
 But there remains a scruple in that too : 
 For though her lather be the king of Naples, 
 Duke of Aujou and Maine, yet is be poor, 
 
SCEXE 4.1 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 411 
 
 And onr nobility will scorn the match. (Aside.) 
 
 Mnr. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure '. 
 
 Suf. It sliall be so, disdain they ne'er so much : 
 Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield : 
 Madam, I have a secret to reveal. [knight, 
 
 Mar. What (hough I be enthrall'd ? he seems a 
 And will not any way dishonour me. {Aside.) 
 
 Siif. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. 
 
 Mar. Perhaps, I siiall be rescu'd by the Frencli ; 
 An<i then I need not crave his courtesy. (Aside.) 
 
 Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause — 
 
 Mar. Tush ! women have been captivate ere now. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so ? 
 
 ^lar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but qtiid for quo. 
 
 Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose 
 Your bondage hai)i)y, to be made a queen ^ 
 
 Mar. 'I'o be a queen in bondage, is more vile, 
 Than is a slave in base servility ; 
 tor princes should be free. 
 
 Suf. And so sliall you. 
 
 If happy England's royal king be free. 
 
 Mar. Wliy, what concerns his freedom unto me ? 
 
 Suf. Ill undertake to make thee Henry's queen ; 
 'I'o f)ut a golden sce[)tre in thy hand. 
 And set a precious crown upon thy head, 
 If thou wilt condescend to be ;ny — 
 
 Mar. What ? 
 
 Suf. His love. 
 
 Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
 
 Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
 To woo so fair a dame to be his wile, 
 And ha^e no portion in the choice myself. 
 How say you, madam ; are you so content? 
 
 Mar. An if my father please, I am content. 
 
 SuJ'. Tlien call our captains, and our colours, forth : 
 And, madam, at your lather's castle walls 
 We'll crave a parley to confer with him. 
 
 (Troops come forivard.) 
 
 A Parley sounded. Enter Keicnikr, on the walls. 
 
 Suf. Sr e, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. 
 
 Iteig. To whom :" 
 
 Suf Tome. 
 
 lieig, Suffolk, what remedy ? 
 
 I am a soldier; and unapt to weep, 
 Or to exclaim on fortune's tickleness. 
 
 Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord : 
 Consent (and, for thy honour, giie consent,) 
 Tliy daughter shall be wedded to my king ; 
 W liom I with pain have wood and won thereto; 
 .And this her easy-held imprisonment 
 Hath gain'd thy Haugliter princely liberty. 
 
 Beiij. Speaks Sulfolk as he thinks':' 
 
 SuJ'. Fair Margaret knows 
 
 That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. 
 
 lieig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend, 
 To gue thee answer of thy just demand. 
 
 [Exit from the lualis. 
 
 Suf. And here I will expect thy coming-. 
 
 Trumpets sounded. Enter Keignier, below. 
 
 i?«j^.Welcome, brave earl, into our territories ; 
 Coauu and in Anjim what your honour pleases. 
 
 Suf. Tiianks, lleignier, happy for so sweet a child, 
 Fit to be made companion with a king : 
 What answer makes your grace unto my suit? 
 
 Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little 
 To be the princf ly bride of such a lord ; [worth, 
 Upon condition I may quietly 
 I'aijoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou, 
 Free from oppression, or tiie stroke of war, 
 INIy daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. 
 
 Suf. That is her ransome, I deliver her; 
 .And those two counties, I will undertake, 
 Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 
 
 Rcig. And I again, — in lienry's royal name. 
 As deputy iintotliat gracious kuig. 
 Give tnee her hand, fur sign of plighted faith. 
 
 Suf. Reignier of France, 1 gi\e thee kingly 
 thanks. 
 
 Because this is in trafiic of a king : 
 
 And yet, molhinks, I could he well content 
 
 'i'o be mine own attorney in this case. (Asidg.) 
 
 I'll over then to England with this news. 
 
 And make this marriage to be solemuiz'd : 
 
 So, farewell, Reignier! Set this diamond safe 
 
 In golden palaces, as it becomes. 
 
 Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace 
 The Clirisiian prince, king Henry, were he here. 
 
 Mar. Farewell, my lord I Good wishes, praise, 
 and prayers. 
 Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. (Going.) 
 
 Suf. Farewell, sweet madam I But hark you, 
 Margaret; 
 No I'rincely commendations to my king? 
 
 Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, 
 A virgin, and his servant, say to him. [ed. 
 
 Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly diiecS- 
 Bat, madam, 1 must trouble you again, — 
 No loving token to his inaiesty '? 
 
 Mar. Yes, my good lord ; a ))urc unspotted heart. 
 Never yet taint with love, I send the king. 
 
 Suf. '.And this withal. (Kisses her.) 
 
 Mar. That for thyself; I will not so presume. 
 To send such peevish tokens to a king. 
 
 [Exeunt Reignier and Margaret. 
 
 Suf. O, wert thou for mysell I — But, Suffolk, stay : 
 Thou may'st not wander in tli it labyrinth ; 
 There Rlinotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. 
 Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praise : 
 Bethink ihee on her virtues that surmount; 
 Mad, natural graces that extinguish art; 
 Repeat their semblance often on the seas, 
 That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's ieei. 
 Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder 
 
 [Exil. 
 
 Scene IV. — Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou. 
 Eiiter York, Warwick, and others. 
 York. Bring ibrth that sorceress, condemn'd to 
 burn. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shepherd. 
 
 Shep. All, Joan ! this kills thy f ither's heart out- 
 right: 
 Have I sought every country far and near. 
 And, now it is my chance to hnd thee out. 
 Must I behold thy timelejis cruel death ? 
 Ah. .Joan, sweet daughter Joan. I'll die with thee! 
 
 Puc. Decrepit miser ! ' ase ignolile wretch ! 
 I am descended oi'a gentler blood ; 
 Tnou art no father, nor no friend, of mine. 
 
 Shep. Out, out! — My lords, an please you, 'tis 
 not so ; 
 I did beget her, all the parish knows : 
 Her mother li\eth yet, can testily. 
 She was the first truit of my bacliclorsliip. 
 
 TFar. Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage ? 
 
 York. This argues what her kind ol hie h th been ; 
 Wicked and vile; and so her death coin:ludes. 
 
 Shep. Fy, Joan ! that thou will be so obstacle I 
 God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh ; 
 And for thy sake have I shed many a tear: 
 Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle Joan. 
 
 Puc. Peasant, avaunt! — You have suborn'd this 
 Of purpose io obscure my noble birth. [man, 
 
 Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest. 
 The morn that I \vas wedded to her mother. — 
 Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. 
 Wilt thou not stoop ? Now cursed be the time 
 Of thy nativity ! I would, the milk 
 Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her 
 
 breast. 
 Had been a little rat.sbane for thy sake ! 
 Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, 
 I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee 1 
 Dost tluMi deny thy father, cursed drab 'I 
 O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit- 
 York. Take her away ; ior she hath liv'd too long, 
 To fill the world with vicious qualities. 
 
412 
 
 FIRST PART OF 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Puc. Kirst, let me tell you whom yon have con- 
 denui'd : 
 
 Not me begotten of a slieplierd swain. 
 But issu'd tVoii) tlie piogony ot kings; 
 Virtuous, and holy; cliosen IVoui above. 
 By inspiration ol' celestial grace, 
 To work exceeding miracles on eartli. 
 I never bad to do with wicked spirits: 
 But yon, — that are |)olluted with yourhists, 
 Stain'd with the guiltless blood ni innocents. 
 Corrupt and tainted with a thousami vices, — 
 Because you v\aiit the grace that others have. 
 You judge it straight a thing irn|jossible 
 To compass wimders, but by help of devils. 
 No, misconceived ! Jo:in of Arc hath been' 
 A virgin from her tender infancy, 
 Chaste and immaculate in very thought; 
 Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously elFusM, 
 Will cry i'ur vengeance at the gates of heaven. 
 
 York. Ay, ay ;— away with her to execution. 
 
 fVur, And hark ye, sirs ; because she is a maid. 
 Spare for no fagots, let there l>e enough : 
 Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal slake. 
 That so her torture may be sliortened. 
 
 P«c. VVill i;othingtnrn your unrelenting hearts? — 
 Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity ; 
 That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. — 
 { am with cliitd, ye bloody hoiiiicjiles : 
 Murder iKit then the fruit within my womb. 
 Although ye hale me to a violent death. 
 
 York. Now heaven ibrefend ! tiie holy maid with 
 child i* 
 
 War. Tlie greatest miracle that ere ye wrought: 
 Is all your strict preciseness come to this ? 
 
 York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling: 
 1 did imagine what would be her refuge. 
 
 War. Well, go to ; we will have no bastards live ; 
 Especially, since Charles must father it. 
 
 Puc \ m\ are deceiv'd ; my child is none of liis : 
 It was Alenijon that enjoy'd my love. 
 
 York. Aleiicnn! that notorious MachiaVel ! 
 ft dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 
 
 Puc. O, give me leave, I liave dehided you ; 
 Twas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I naai'd, 
 But Reignier, king of Na[)les, (liat pre\ail'd. 
 
 War. A married man! that's most intolerable. 
 
 girl ! 1 think, she knows not 
 
 York. Why, here s a 
 well. 
 There were so many, whom she may accuse. 
 
 War. It's' sign she hath been liberal and ire^e. 
 
 York. And, yet, (brsonth.she is a virgin pure.- 
 Struiiipel, thy words condemn thy brat, and tlice 
 Use no entreaty, tor it is in vain. 
 
 Puc. Then lead me hence; — with whom I leave 
 ' my curse : 
 
 May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
 Upon the country where you make abode ! 
 But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
 Environ you ; till mischief", and despair. 
 Drive you to break your nt-cks, or hang yourselves! 
 
 [Exit, guarded. 
 
 York. Break thou in pieces, and consmne to ashes. 
 Thou foul accursed minister of hell ! 
 
 Enter Cardinal Beaufort, attended. 
 
 Car. Lord regent, 1 do greet your excellence 
 With letters of commission from the king. 
 For know, myJords, the states of Christendom, 
 Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils, 
 Have earnestly implor'd a general [leace 
 lietwijit our nation and the aspiring French ; | 
 
 A;id here at haul, the Dau,.hin, and his train, | 
 
 Apjiroacheth, to confer about some matter. 
 
 York. Is all our travail turii'd to this effect? 
 After the slaughter of so many peers, 
 So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, 
 That in this ipiarrel luve been overthrown. 
 And sold tlifir bodies for their coniitry's benefit. 
 Shall we at last com liide elfeminati; peace ? 
 Have we not lost most part of all the towns. 
 
 By treason, falsehood, and by treachery. 
 Our great progenitors had concpiered ? — 
 O, Warvvii k, Warwick, 1 foresee with grief 
 'I'he utter loss of all the realm of Fiance. 
 
 War. Be pitiiMit, \ ork : if we conclude a peaces 
 It shall be with suc;i stiict and severe covenants. 
 As little shall tiie Fnnc.hmen gain tliereby. 
 
 Enter Charles, attended; Alencon, Bastard, 
 UEiG.MiiR, and others. 
 
 Char. 3ince, lords of England, it is thus agreed, 
 That peaceful truce shall be | roclaiin'd in France, 
 We come to I)h int'ormed by yourselves 
 W hat tiie conditions of that league must be. 
 
 \urk. Speak, Winchester; for boiling clioler 
 chokes 
 The hollow passage of my poison'd voice. 
 By sight of these our baleful enemies. 
 
 Win. Cliarles, and tiie rest, it is enacted thus : 
 That — in regard king Henry gives consent. 
 Of mere coiiijjiission, and of lenity. 
 To ease your country of disliesstul war. 
 And suft'er you to breathe in fVnitf'.ii peace,^ 
 \ oil shall become true liegemen to iiis crown; 
 And, Cliailes, upon condition tliou wilt swear 
 To pay him tribute, and submit thyself. 
 Thou slialt be plao'd as viceroy under him. 
 And still enjoy thy regal dignity. 
 
 Alen. jMusl he be ti.en a shadow of himself? 
 Adorn his temples with a coronet ; 
 And yet, in substance and aulliority, 
 lletaiii bi't privilege of a private man ? 
 This prolfer is absurd and reasonless. 
 
 Char. 'Tis known, alrtady that 1 am possess'd 
 With more than half the tiallian territiu'ies. 
 And therein reverenc'd tortiieir lawful king" 
 Shall I, lor lucre of the rest nnvanqiiish'd, 
 Detract so iniirh from that prerogative. 
 As to he call'd hut viceroy of the whole? 
 No, lortl ambassador ; I'll rather keep 
 'i'liat which I have, tuan, coveting for more, 
 Be cast from possibility of all. [means 
 
 \ork. Iiisiikiiig Cliarles! hast thou by secret 
 Used intercession to obtain a league : 
 And, now tlie matter grows to compromise, 
 Staiid'st tlioa aloof upon comparison ? 
 Either accept tlie title thou nsurp'st. 
 Of benefit proceedinj; from our king, 
 And not of any challenge of (iesert. 
 Or we will plague tliee with incessant vvars. 
 
 Rbi(j. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy 
 To cavil in Ihe course of this contract: 
 If once it be neglected, ten to one. 
 We shall not find like oppoitunity. 
 
 Alen. 'i'o say the ti nth, it is your policy. 
 To save your subjects from such massacre. 
 And rutiiless slaiighteis, as are daily seen 
 By our proceeding in hostility : 
 And theiefoie take this compact of a truce. 
 Although you break it when your pleasure serves. 
 
 [Aside to Charles.) 
 
 JVar. How say'st tlion, Charles? shall our con- 
 
 Char. It shall: [dition stand ? 
 
 Only res-rv"d, yon claim no interest 
 In aoy of our towns of garrison. 
 
 llork. Then swear allegiance to his majesly : 
 As thou art knight, never (o disobey. 
 Nor be rebi'iri(ius to tlie crown ol England, 
 Tiioii, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. 
 
 [Charles, and the rest, give tokens offealltf.) 
 So, now dismiss your army when ye please ; 
 Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still. 
 For lieie we entertain a solemn peace. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter King Henuy, i-n conference with Suffolk, 
 Gloster and liiX^iER folioiving. 
 K. Hen. Your wondVous rare description, noble 
 earl, 
 Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'J me : 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 413 
 
 Mer virtues, graced \vi!j' titv.-nal gifis, 
 Do breed love's settled fissions Jii my heart: 
 Aud like as rigour iu tentipestiioiis gusts 
 Provokes the iiiiglitiesl iiiilk against the tide; 
 So am I drixen, by brcavh of her renown, 
 Kither to siiU'er shipwievk, or arrive 
 Where I may have Iniition of her love. 
 
 Stif. Tush I my good lord ! tiiis superficial Lile 
 [s btit a preface of her worthy praise : 
 'The chiet' peiiVc'ious of that loxely daIn^, 
 Had I sutKoieiit skill to utter them.) 
 Would make a volume of enticing lines. 
 Able to ravish any dull conceit. 
 Anil, which is more, she is not so divine. 
 So full replete with choice of all delights'. 
 Hut, with as Inimlile lowliness of mind, 
 She is content to be at your command ; 
 Command, I mean, ol virtuous chaste intents. 
 To love and honour tlenry as her lord. 
 
 K. Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre- 
 sume. 
 Therefore, my lord protector, give consent. 
 That Alargaret may be England's royal queen. 
 
 Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
 You know, my lo.d, your highness is betroth'd' 
 Unto auollier lady of esteem ; 
 How shall we tlien dispense with that contract, 
 .And not delace your honour with reproach :" 
 
 Siif. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ; 
 Or one, that, at a triumph having vow'd 
 To try Ills strength, forsaketii yet the lists 
 By reason of his adversary's ofids : 
 A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, 
 And therei'ore may be broke without otfencc. 
 
 Glo. VVhy, what, 1 pray, is JMargarct more than 
 Her lather is no better than an earl, [that ? 
 
 Althouj;li in glorious titles he excel. 
 
 Suf. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king, 
 The king of Naples, and Jerusalem ; 
 Aud oi such great authority in France, 
 As his alliance will conlirni our peace, 
 Aud keep tlie Frenchmen in allegiance. 
 
 (ilu. And so t.ie earl of Armagnac may do, 
 B;'!'.uuse he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
 
 Exe. Bes.de, his \vealth doth warrant liberal 
 dower ; 
 While Reignier sooner will receive, than give. 
 
 Suf. A dower, ray lords ! disgrace not so your king. 
 That lie should be so abject, base, and poor, 
 I'o choose for wealth, and not for perfect love, 
 Henry is able to enrich his queen, 
 .^nd not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
 So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, 
 As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 
 Marriage is a matter of more worth. 
 
 Than to be dealt in by a-li jneysiiip ; 
 
 Not whom we ^vill, but whom his grace ail'ectu. 
 
 Must be companion ol" his nuptial brd : 
 
 And therefore, lords, since he alffcts her most. 
 
 It most of all these reasons bindtth us, 
 
 In our opinions she should be preferred. 
 
 For what is wedlock forci d, but a hell, 
 
 An age of discord and continual strife ? 
 
 Whereas the coritritry hringetli firth bliss. 
 
 And is a pattern oi celestial peace. 
 
 Whom should wo match, with Henry, being a king 
 
 But Margaret, that is daughter to a king ? 
 
 Her peerless feature, joined with her birth. 
 
 Approves her fit for n/ne, but for a king : 
 
 Her valiant courage, an I uiidiiunted simit, 
 
 (More than in women coinmonly is seen,) 
 
 Will answer our hope in issue of a king; 
 
 For Henry, son unto a coiupieror. 
 
 Is likely to beget more conquerors. 
 
 If witli a lady of so high resolve, 
 
 As is fair Margaret, he be link'd in love. 
 
 Then yield, my lords ; and here conclude with me, 
 
 That Margaiet shall be queen, and nmie but she. 
 
 K, Hell. Whether it be through force of your 
 report, 
 INly noble lord of Sufl'olk; or for that 
 My tender youtli was never yet attaint 
 With any passion of inflaming love, 
 I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd, 
 I I'eel such sharp dissension in my breast. 
 Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear. 
 As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
 IVke, therefore, shipping; post my lord, to France ; 
 Agree to any covenants : and procure 
 That lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
 To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd 
 King Henry's iaithiul and anointed queen : 
 For your expenses and sullicient charge. 
 Among the people gather uji a tenth. 
 Begone, I s ly ; for till you do return, 
 I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. — 
 And you, good uncle, banish all otfence : 
 If you do censure me by what you were. 
 Not whit you are, I know it will excuse 
 This sudden execution of my will. 
 And .so conduct me, where Irom company, 
 I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit 
 
 Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and 1 i-t. 
 [Exeunt Glo^ter and Exeter. 
 
 Stif. Thus SiifFolk hatli prevaii'd : and thus he goe.s, 
 As (iid the youtnful Paris once to Greece ; 
 With hope to find the like event in love. 
 But prosper better than the Trojan did. 
 Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the kil>g; 
 Bat I will rule both her, the king, aud realm. {^Extt. 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 PERSONS REPIiESENTED. 
 
 KING HENRY THE SIXTH. 
 HL'MPHREY, Diikf vl C tout er. his Uncle. 
 CARUINAI. liEAUFORT, Uishup vj Winchester, great 
 
 U'icle to lilt King. 
 RICHARD FLANTAGliNKT, Duke of York. 
 EUWAill) and RICHARD, liis tions. 
 DrKK OF SOMERSET, n 
 
 Dl KE OK SUFFOLK, ) 
 
 BLKE OF BUCKINGHAM, > vf Ihe King's Parly. 
 L(!RI) CLU'FOKD. ( 
 
 r»if//ff CLIFFORD, kis Son, ' 
 
 of Ihe York Faction. 
 
 EARL. OF SALISBURY, ( 
 
 EARL OF WARWICK, ) 
 
 LORD SCVLES, Governor of Uie Tower. 
 
 LORD SAY. 
 
 SIR HUAIl'HREY STAFFORD, and his lirolfier. 
 
 SIR JOHN STANLEY. 
 
 A sea CiiDlain, Master, ami Mastir's Mate, and 
 
 WALTER VVHITMORE. 
 Tifu Gentlemen, Prisoners tcith Suffolk 
 A Herald. 
 
 VAUX. 
 
 HUMIi and SOUTHWELL, two Fnesrs. 
 
 BOLINGBROKE. a Conjurer. 
 
 A Siiiril raised lnj him. 
 
 THOMAS HORNER, an Armourer. 
 
 PETER, /us Man. 
 
 Clerk of Chalhain. 
 
 Mai/or if Saint Alban's. 
 
 SL>ll'C(iX. an linjwslor — Two Murderers. 
 
 JACK CADE, a RehH. 
 
 GEORGE. JOHN, DICK, SMITH, the Weaver; 311 
 
 CHAEL, etc. his Followers. 
 ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish Gentleman. 
 
 MARGARET, Queen to King Henry. 
 I'.LEANOR, Duchess of Glosler. 
 MARGERY JOURDAIN, a Witch. 
 Wije to SIMl^COX. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, and Allendants ; Pelilioners, Aldermen, 
 a Beadle, Sht-riff. and Of'icers ; Citizens, Prentices, 
 Faiconers, Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, etc. 
 
 ScKtiE,^Dispcr.i3cl/y in various parts of Enyland. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Root/i of Stale in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish of trumpets : then haufhoys. Enter on 
 one side, Kimj Henry, Dtihe oJGLOSTEit, .Sa- 
 lisbury, Warwick, and Cardinal Beaufort; 
 on the other. Queen Margaret, led in by SuF 
 FOLK; yoRK, Somerset, Buckjnguam, and 
 others folloicing. 
 
 Suf As by your high imperial majesty 
 T had ill charj^e at my depart for France, 
 As procurator to your excellence. 
 To marry princess Margaret ibr your grace ; 
 So ill the lainoiis ancient city Tours, — 
 III presence of the kings of France and Sicil, 
 'I'he dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bret-iigne, and 
 
 Alengon, — 
 Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend bi- 
 shops, — 
 I have perlorm'd my task, and was espoiis'd : 
 And humbly now upon my bended kuee. 
 In sight of Eng and and her lordly peers. 
 Deliver up my title in the queen 
 To your most gracious hands, that are the substance 
 Ol that great shadow I did repre.sent; 
 The Happiest gilt, that ever marquess gave. 
 The fairest q'leen that ever king receiv'd. 
 
 K. Uen. Sutiblk, arise. — Welcome, queen Mar- 
 garet : 
 I can ex|)ress no kinder sign of love. 
 Than this kind kiss. — O Lord, that lends me life. 
 Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! 
 Tor thon hast given me in this beauteous face, 
 A woild of earthly blessings to my soul, 
 If sympathy of love unite our thoujihts. 
 
 Q. Mar. Great king of England, and my gracious 
 lord ; 
 The mutual conference that my nnnd hath had — 
 By day, by night; waking, and in my dreams ; 
 In courtly company, or at my beads, — 
 Witii you mine alder-liefest sovereign, 
 Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
 With ruder terms ; such as my wit atl'urds. 
 And o\er-joy of heart doth minister. 
 
 K. Hen. Her sight did ravish : but her grace in 
 speech. 
 Her words y-clad with wi»dom's majesty, 
 Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeding joys ; 
 Such is the fulness of my heart's content. — 
 Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. 
 
 All. Long live queen Margaret, England's happi- 
 ness ! 
 
 Q. Mar. We thank you all. [Flourish.) 
 
 Suf. My lord [irotertor, so it please your grace, 
 Here are the articles of contracted |)e,ice, 
 Isetween our sovereign and the French king Charles, 
 For eighteen months concluded by consent. 
 
 Glo. [Reads.] Iinininiis, It is agreed between 
 the French Icing, Charles, and Willutm de la 
 Poole, innrquess of Suffolk, ambassador for 
 Henry king of England, — that the said Henry 
 shall espouse the lady Margaret, daughter intlo 
 Re/gnier king of Naples. Sicilia, and Jerusalem ; 
 and crown her /jiieen of England, ere the Ih/rtieth 
 
 of May next ensuing. Item. — That the duchy 
 
 of Anjoit and the county of Maine shad le re- 
 teased and delivered to the king her father 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle, how now V 
 
 Glo. Pardon me, gniciou.s hud; 
 
 Some sudden qualm hath struck me at tlie h ait, 
 And diinm'd mine eyes, that I can read no fiirliier 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle ol VVincliester, I pray, read (^n. 
 
 Win. Iteiu, — It IS further agreed between thou, 
 — that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be 
 released and delivered over to the king her father: 
 and she settt over of the king of England's own 
 proper cost and charges, ivithout having dowry. 
 
 K. Hen They phase us well. — Lord ma.quesa, 
 kneel down; 
 We here create tiiee the first duke of Suffolk, 
 And girt thee with the sword. — 
 Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace 
 From being regent in ihe parts of France, 
 Till term'ofeigtiteen months br full expir'd — 
 Thanks, uncle VVinchester, Gloster, York, and 
 
 Buckinghain, 
 Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick; 
 We thank you all for this great favour done. 
 In entertainment to my princely queen. 
 Come, let us in; and witli all speed provide 
 'I'o see her coronation be perform'd. 
 
 [E.reunl King, Queen, and Suffolk 
 
 Glo. Brave peers ot En.nland. pillars ol tiie slate. 
 To you duke IJuinphrey must unload his grief,. 
 Your grief, tue lommon grief of all the land. 
 What! did my brother Henry spend liis youth, 
 His valour, com, and people, inthewarsl' 
 Did he so often lodge in open field, 
 In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat, 
 'I'o conquer Prance, his true inheritance i 
 And did my brotlier Bedford toll bis witn 
 To keej) by policy what Henry ^ot'if 
 
Scene 1, 
 
 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 
 
 415 
 
 Have yon yonrselves, Somerset, Buckingham, 
 IJrave York, Salisbury, and victorious VVarwick, 
 Ileceiv'd deep scars in I ran.":e and Normandy ? 
 Or balh my uncle Beaufort, and myself, 
 VV'ith all tlie learned council of tlie realm. 
 Studied so lon;^, s;it in the council-house, 
 l']arly and lale, debating to and fro 
 How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe? 
 And hath his highness in his infancy 
 {Jeen crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes? 
 And shall these labours, and these honours, die ? 
 Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, 
 ^'o(ir deeds of war, and all our Cduusel, die'? 
 peers of England, shameful is this league! 
 Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame ; 
 Blotting your nanies from books of memory ; 
 liaziiig the characters of your renown ; 
 Defacing monuments of conquer'd France; 
 Undoing all, as all had never been ! 
 Car. Nephew, what means this passionate dis- 
 course"? 
 This peroration with such circumstance ? 
 For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still. 
 Ci-lo. Ay, uijcle, we will keep it, if we can; 
 Rut now it is impossible we should : 
 Sulidlk, tlie new-niide duke, tliat rules the roast. 
 Math given the duchres of Anjou and Maine 
 Unto llie poor king Reignier, whose large style 
 Agrees not with the leanness of his |)urse. 
 
 Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all. 
 These counties were the keys of Normandy : — 
 But wherefore weeps Warwick, my \aliant son? 
 
 War. For grief, for they are past recovery : 
 For, were there hope to conquer them again. 
 My sword should slied hot blood, mine eyes no tears. 
 Anjou and iMaiue ! myself did win them both; 
 Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer: 
 AtKi are the cities, that I got with wounds, 
 Oelivcrd up again with peaceful words"? 
 U.)rt Dieii! 
 
 Yurie. For Suffolk's duke — may he be snfTocate, 
 That dims the honour of this warlike isle ! 
 France should have torn and rent my very heart. 
 Before I would have yielded to this league. 
 [ n?ver read but England's kings have had 
 Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wi\es: 
 .And our king Henry gives away his ovvn, 
 To match with her that brings no vantages. 
 
 Glo. A proper Jest, and never heard before, 
 That Sntf(»lk should demand a whole fifteenth. 
 For costs and charges in transporting her: 
 She shoidd have staid in France, and starv'd in 
 France, 
 
 Before 
 
 Car. My lord of Gloster, now yon grow too hot ; 
 [t was tlie pleasure of my lord the king. 
 
 Glo. Aly lord of Wincnester, I know your mind: 
 Tis not my speeches, that you do mislike ; 
 l>ut 'tis my presence, that doth trouble you. 
 Rancour will out : Proud prelate, in thy face 
 I see thy fury ; if 1 longer stay, 
 We shall begin our ancient bickerings. — 
 Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone, 
 I propiiesied — France will be lost ere long. [Exit. 
 
 Car. So, there goes our protector \<\ a rage. 
 'Tis known to you, he is mine en^ my: 
 Nay, more, an enemy unto you all; 
 And no great friend, 1 fear nie, to the king. 
 Consider, lords, he is the next of blood. 
 And heir apparent to the English crown; 
 Had Henry got an empire by his marriage. 
 And all the wealthy kingloms of the west, 
 There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. 
 Look to it, lords; let not his smontliing words 
 Bewitch your hearts ; be wise, and circumspect. 
 v\ hat though the common people favour him, 
 Calling lilm — Humphrey, tlie yood duke of Gloster; 
 Clapping ilieir hands, and crying with loud voice — 
 Jesu maintain your royal excellenre ! 
 With — iiod preserve the good duke Humphrey ! 
 
 I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, 
 He will be found a dangerous protector. 
 
 Buck. Why should he then protect our sovereign 
 He being of age to govern of himself ? — 
 Cousin of Somerset, join you with me. 
 And all together — with the duke of Sall'olk, — 
 We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his si^a* 
 Car. This weighty business will nut brook dflav 
 I'll to the duke of Suti'olk presently. lExi! 
 
 So/n. Cousin of Buckingham, though Huinplwty' 
 pride. 
 And greatness of his place be grief to us. 
 Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal ; 
 His insolence is more intolerable 
 'I'han all the |)rinc,es in the land beside ; 
 If Gloster be displac'd, he'll be protector. 
 
 Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector, 
 Despite duke ilumphrey. or the cardinal. 
 
 [Exeunt Buclliiirjham and Somerset. 
 Sal. Pride went befoie, ambition follows Inm. 
 While these do labour for their own |)referineut, 
 Behoves it us to labour for the realm. 
 I never saw but lliimpluv^y duke of (Jloster 
 Did bear him like a noble gentleman. 
 Olt ha\e I seen tlie haughty cardinal — 
 iMore like a soldier, than a man othe church. 
 As stout, and proud, as lie were lord of all,— 
 Swear like a rultiiii, and deuiean himself 
 Unlike the ruler of a common-weal. — 
 Warwick, my son, the coniloit of my age ! 
 Thy deeds, tliy plainness, and thy house-keeping. 
 Hath won the gre.itest favour of the couimons. 
 Excepting none but good duke Huinplrrey. — 
 And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, " 
 In bringing them to civil discipline ; 
 Tliy late exploits, done in the heart of France, 
 When thou wert regent for our sovereign. 
 Have made tliee fear'd, and lionuiir'd, of the 
 
 people : — 
 Join we together, for the public good ; 
 Jn what we can to bridle and suppress 
 The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal, 
 Witli Somerset's and Bucls inghaui's aiiihi'Ion ; 
 And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds, 
 'vViiile they do tend the profit of the land. 
 
 War. So (Jod help Warwick, as he loves the land, 
 .And Common profit of his country ! 
 
 York. And so says York, for he hath greatest 
 
 cause. 
 Sal. Tlien let's make haste away, and look unto 
 
 the main. 
 War. Unto the main ! O father. Maine is lost; 
 That Maine, which by main force Warwick did win. 
 -And vviiuld have kept, so long as breatu did last : 
 Main chance, father, you iiiei(nt;but 1 meant iMaine, 
 Which I will will from France, or else be slain. 
 
 [Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury. 
 York. Anjou an I Maine are gi\eu to the French; 
 Pans is lost : the state of Normandy 
 Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone : 
 Suffolk concluded on the articles ; 
 I'he peers agreed ; and Heniy was well plcas'd, 
 Tochange two dukedoms for a duke's lair daughter. 
 I cannot blame them all ; What is't to them ? 
 Tis thine they give away, and not their own. 
 Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their 
 
 pillage, 
 And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, 
 Still revelling, like loids, till all he gone : 
 While as tne silly owner of the goods 
 VVee[)s over them, and wrings his hapless hands. 
 And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, 
 Wtiile all is shard, and all is borne awav ; 
 Ready to star\c, and dare not touch his own. 
 So York must sit, and frtt, and bite his tongue. 
 While his own laml.s are bargain'd for, and sold. 
 Metiiinks, the realms of England, France, st-d 
 
 Ireland, 
 Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood. 
 As did the Iktal brand Althea bitrn'd, 
 
41 G 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Utilo the prince's heart of Calydon. 
 
 AiijoM anci Maine, l)i)tli given unto tlie French ! 
 
 Coil) news for me; for 1 iind hope of Fratice, 
 
 Even as i iiave of fertile England's soil. 
 
 A diy will come, when York shall chiim his owu^ 
 
 An:l therefore I will take the Nevils' parts. 
 
 And make a shewof love to pronddnke Humphrey, 
 
 And; when 1 spy advantage, claitii the crown, 
 
 For that's the golden mark I seek to hit : 
 
 Norshiill prond Lancaster nsurp my right. 
 
 Nor hold liis sceptre in his childish list, 
 
 Xor wear the diadem npon his head, 
 
 Whose ciinrch-like humonrs fit not for a crown. 
 
 Then, York, be still awiiile, till time do serve : 
 
 Watch tlioii, and wake, when others be asleepj 
 
 To pry into the secrets of the state ; 
 
 Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love. 
 
 With his new bride, and England's dear-bought 
 
 queen, 
 And Hnrnpiirey with the peers be fall'n at jars : 
 Then will 1 raise aloft the milk-white rose, 
 Willi whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd ; 
 And in my standard bear the arms of York, 
 I'o grapple with the house of Lancaster ; 
 And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown, 
 Wliose bookish rnle hath puU'd fair England down. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Room in the Duke of 
 Glosters House. 
 
 Enter Gloster and the Duchess. 
 Duck. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen"d 
 corn, 
 Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteons load ? 
 Why doth the great duke Hnmprey knit his brows, 
 As frowning at the favours of the world ? 
 Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, 
 Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? 
 What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, 
 Enchas'd with all the honours oi'the world? 
 If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, 
 Until thy head be circled with the same. 
 I'nt fortii thy hand, reach at the glorious gold : 
 What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it vvith mine: 
 And, tiaving both together heav'd it up. 
 We'll both together lift our heads to heaven ; 
 And never more abase our sight so low. 
 As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 
 Glo. O Nell's sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy 
 lord. 
 Banish the canker of ambitions thoughts : 
 And may that thought, when I miagine ill 
 Against my king and nepiiew, virtuous Henry, 
 Be my last breathing in this mortal world ! 
 My tmublous dream this night doth make me sad. 
 Duch. Whatdream'd my lord? tell uie, and I'll 
 requite it 
 With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. 
 Glo. iV'Ietliought, this stalF, mine office-badge in 
 court. 
 Was broke in twain ; by whom, I have forgot, 
 Dut, as I think, it was by the cardinal ; 
 And on the pieces of the broken wand 
 Were plac'cl the heads of Edmund duke of Somerset, 
 And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk. 
 Tliis was my dream ; what it doth bode, God knows. 
 
 Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an ar);ument. 
 That he, that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove. 
 Shall lose his head for his presumption, 
 tint list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke : 
 Methought, I sat in seat of majesty, 
 in the ctithedral church of Westminster, 
 And m that chair where kings and qneens are 
 
 crosvn'd ; 
 Where Hemy, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me, 
 And on my liead did set the diadem. 
 
 Glo. Nuy, Eleanor, tlien must I chide outright: 
 Presumptuous dame, ill nurtur'd Eleanor! 
 Art thou not second woman in the realm; 
 And the protector's wife, belov'd of him ? 
 
 Hast thou not vvnrldly pleasure at command 
 Above the reach or compass of thy thought? 
 And wilt thou still be hammering treaciiery, 
 To fumble down thy husband, and thyself, 
 From top of honf)ur to disgrace's feet ? 
 Away from n>e, and let me hear no more! 
 
 Duch. What, w hat, my lord, are you so choleric 
 VVith Eleanor, frr telling but her dream? 
 Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto my.self. 
 And not be check'd. 
 
 Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes. My lord protector,' tis his highness' pleasure, 
 You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's, 
 Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk. 
 
 Glo. I go. — Come, Nell, Ihou wilt ride with iis ? 
 
 Duch. Yes, good my lord, I'll i'ollow presently 
 [Exeunt Gloster and Messenger 
 Follow I must, I cannot go before, 
 While Gloster bears this base and humble mh-A. 
 Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, 
 I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks. 
 And smooth my way npon their headless neck.* • 
 And, being a woman, I will not be slack 
 'i'o play my part in fortune's pageant. 
 Where are you there ? Sir John I nay, fear not, man. 
 We are aloue ; here's none but thee, and I. 
 
 Enter Hume. 
 
 Hume. Jpsn preserve your royal majesty ! 
 
 Duch. What say'st tliou, majesty ! I am but 
 grace. 
 
 Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's 
 advice, 
 Tour grace's title shall be multi|)lied. 
 
 Duch. What say'st thou, man ? hast thou as yet 
 conferr'd 
 With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch ; 
 An<l Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? 
 And will they undertake to do me good ? 
 
 Hume. 'I'his they have promised, — to shew your 
 highness 
 A spirit, rais'd from depth of under ground. 
 That shall make answer to such questions, ^ 
 
 As by your grace shall be propounded him. 
 
 Duch. It is enough : I'll think upon the questions • 
 When from Saint Alban's we do make return. 
 We'll see these things effected to the full. 
 Here, Hume, take this reward ; make merry, man, 
 With thy confederates in this weighty cause. 
 
 [Exit Duchess. 
 
 Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess' 
 gold ; 
 ATarry, and shall. But how now, sir John Hmne? 
 Seal up your lips, and give no words but — mum! 
 'i'he business asketh silent secrecy. 
 Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch : 
 Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. 
 Yet have I gold, flies from another coast : 
 I dare not say, from the rich cardinal. 
 And from the great and new-made duke of Sufl'olk, 
 Vet I do find It so : for, to be plain, 
 'i'hey, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, 
 Have hired me to undermine the duchess. 
 And buz these conjurations in her brain. 
 They say, a cralty knave does need no broker; 
 Yet am I Sulfolk, and the cardinal's broker, 
 Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near 
 To call them both — a [lair oi" crafty knaves. 
 Well, so it stands : And thus, i fear, at last, 
 Hume's knavery will be the duchess' >vreck ; 
 And her attainture will be Humphrey's (all : 
 Sort how it will, I shall have gold ior all. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. A Room in the Palace 
 Enter Peter and others, ivitk petitions. 
 ] Pet. My masters, let's stand close ; my lord 
 protector will come this way by and by, and then 
 we may deliver our supplications id the quill. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 41T 
 
 2 Pet. Many, tlie lord p 
 g;ood man ! Jesu bless liini ! 
 
 rotect him, for he is a 
 
 Enter Suffolk and Queen Margaret. 
 
 1 Pet. Here 'a comes, iiielhinks, and the queen 
 with him : I'll be the first, sure. 
 
 2 Pet. Come back, fool; this is the duke of Suf- 
 folk, and not my lord pmtector. [me? 
 
 Siif. How now, fellow ? would'st any thing with 
 1 Pet. i pray, my lord, pardon me ! 1 took ye for 
 my lord protector. 
 
 Q. Mar. [Reading the superscription.) To my 
 lord protector! are your supplications to his lord- 
 ship V Let me see them : Wliat is thine ? 
 
 1 Pet. Mine is, an t please your grace, against 
 John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping 
 my lionsp, and lands, and wile, and all, from me. 
 
 Suf. Thy wife too? that is some wrooR', indeed. — 
 What's Nonr's? — What's here ! {Reads.) Against 
 fhe duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the cotnmons of 
 Melford. — How now, sir knave '! 
 
 2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our 
 whole township. 
 
 Peter. (Presenting his petition.) Against my 
 master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the duke of 
 York was rightfid heir to the crown. 
 
 Q. Mar. VVhat say'st thou ? Did the duke of York 
 say, he was rightful heir to the crown '^ 
 
 Peter. That my master was ? No, forsooth : my 
 roaster said. That he was ; and that the king was 
 an usurper. ^ 
 
 Suf. Who is tliere? [Enter Servants.) — Take 
 this fellow in, and send for his master with a pur- 
 suivant presently: — we'll hear more of your matter 
 before the king. [Exeunt Servants, with Peter. 
 
 Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be protected 
 Under the wings of our protector's grace. 
 Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. 
 
 {Tears the Petition.) 
 ^way, base cullions! — Suffolk, let them go. 
 
 All. Come, let's he gone. [Exeunt Petitioners. 
 
 Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise. 
 Is this tlie fashion in the court of England i 
 Is this the government of Britain's isle. 
 And this the royalty of Albion's king? 
 What, shall king Henry be a pupil still. 
 Under the surly Gloster's governance ? 
 Am I a queen in title and in style, 
 And must be made a subject to a duke ? 
 I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours 
 Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love. 
 And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, 
 I thought king Henry had resembled thee, 
 In courage, courtship, and proportion; 
 But all his mind is bent to holiness. 
 To number A.vK-Maries on his beads : 
 His champions are — prophets and apostles ; 
 His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ; 
 His study is tilt-yard, and his loves 
 Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints. 
 I would the college of cardinals 
 Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome, 
 And set the triple crown upon his head; 
 That were a state fit for his holiness. 
 
 Suf. Madam, be patient: as I was cause 
 Your highness came to England, so will I 
 In England work your grace's full content. 
 
 Q. Mar. Beside the haught protector, have we 
 Beaufort, 
 The imperious churchman ; Somerset, Buckingham, 
 And gnimbling York : and not the least of these, 
 But can do more in England than the king. 
 
 Suf. And he of these, that can do most of all. 
 Cannot do more in England than the Nevils : 
 Salisbuiy and Warwick are no simple peers. 
 
 Q. Mar. Not all these lords do vex me half so 
 much. 
 As that ijroud dame, the lord protector's wife. 
 6ho sweips it through the court with troops of !a- 
 'i.es. 
 
 More like an einpre.ss than duke Humphrey's wile 
 Strangers in court do take her for the queen: 
 She bears a d. ike's revenues on her back, 
 And in her heart she scorns our poverty : 
 Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her? 
 Contemptuous base-born callat as she is. 
 She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day. 
 The very train of her worst wearing-gown 
 Was better worth than all my father's lands, 
 Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. 
 Suf. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her;, 
 And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds. 
 That she will light to listen to their lays, 
 .\nd never mount to trouble you again. 
 So, let her rest: And, madam, list to me: 
 For I am bold to counsel you in this. 
 Although we fancy not the cardinal. 
 Yet must we jdin with him, and with the lords, 
 Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace. 
 -\s for the duke of York,— this late complaint 
 Will make but little for his benefit: 
 So, one by one, we'll weed theih all at last. 
 And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. 
 
 Enter King Henry, York, and Somerset, cotu 
 versing loith him; Duke and Duchess o/ Olds- 
 ter, Cardinal Beaufort, Buckingham, Salis- 
 bury, and Warwick. 
 
 K. He7i. For my part, noble lords, I care not 
 which ; 
 Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me. 
 
 York. If York have ill demean'd himself in France, 
 Then let him be deny d the regentship. 
 
 Sojn. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, 
 Let York be regent: I will yield to him. 
 
 War. Whether your grace be wortljy, yea, or no. 
 Dispute not that: York is the worthier. 
 
 Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. 
 War. The cardinal's not n.y better in the field. 
 Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, War- 
 wick. 
 War. Warwick may live to be the best of all. 
 
 Sal. Peace, son ; and show some reason, 
 
 Buckingham, 
 Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this, 
 Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, will have 
 
 it so. 
 Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself 
 To give his censure : these are no women's matters. 
 Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs your 
 grace 
 To he protector of his excellence ? 
 
 Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm ; 
 And, at his pleasure, will resign my place. 
 
 Suf. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. 
 Since thou wert kirg, (as who is king, but thou :') 
 The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck: 
 The Daimliin hath prevail'd beyond the seas; 
 .4nd all the peers and nobles of the realm 
 Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 
 
 Car. The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's 
 
 Are lank and lean with thy extortions. [hags 
 
 Som. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's 
 
 Have cost a mass of public treasury. [attire 
 
 Buck. Thy cruelty in execution 
 Upon offenders, hath exceeded law. 
 And left thee to the mercy of the law. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thy sale of offices, and towns in France, — 
 If they were known, as the suspect is great, — 
 Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. 
 
 [Exit Gloster. The Queen drops harjan 
 Give me my fan: VVhat, minion I can you not'? 
 
 {Gives the Duchess a box on the ear., 
 1 cry you mercy, madam ; Was it you i 
 Duch. Was't I? yea, I it was, proud French 
 woman : 
 Could I come near your beauty with ray nailj, 
 I'd set my ten commandments iu year face. 
 
 K. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas agains her 
 wilL 27 
 
418 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act r. 
 
 Duch. AKJiinst her will ; Good king, look to't in 
 time ; 
 She'll ham|>pr (bee, and diuidle thee like a baby : 
 Tlioiifjh in tliis [jlace most master wear no breeches, 
 She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. 
 
 I Exit Duchess. 
 
 Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, 
 And listen alter Humphrey, how he proceeds: 
 She's tickled now ; her I'miie can need no spurs, 
 She'll gallop fast enough to her destriii-tion. _ 
 
 [Exit Buckmrjham. 
 Re-enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Now, lords, my choler being' overblown, 
 With walking; once about the quadrangle, 
 I come to talk of comnionwealtli aH'airs. 
 As fur your spiteful false objections, 
 Prove tliem, and I lie o])en to the law : 
 lint God in mercy so deal with my soul, 
 As I in duty love my king and country I 
 l5iiL to the matter that we have in hand : — 
 I say, my soiereign, York is meetest man 
 'I'o be yniir regent in the realm ol France. 
 
 Siif. IJelore we make election, give me leave 
 To siiew some reason of no little force. 
 That York is most unmeet of any man. 
 
 York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet. 
 First, tor I cannot flatter thee in pride : 
 Next, it 1 be appointed lor the place. 
 My lord of Somerset will keep me here, 
 VVithiMit discliarne, money, or furniture, 
 'fill France be won into tlie Dauphin's hands. 
 Last time, I danc.'d attendance on his will. 
 Till Paris was besieg'd, faniish'd, and lost. 
 
 War That I can witness ; and a fouler i'act 
 Dill never traitor in the land commit. 
 
 Siif. Peace, headstrong \Var\vick I 
 
 War. Image of pride, why should I hold my 
 peace i 
 
 Enter Servants of Suffolk, bringing in Horner 
 and Peter. 
 
 Suf. Because here is a man accns'd of treason : 
 Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself! 
 
 York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor? 
 
 K. Hen. What mean'st tho.i, Suffolk ? fell me : 
 What are these ? 
 
 Siif. Please it your majesty, this is the man 
 'I'hat dolh accuse his master ol high treason : 
 His words were these ; — that Richard, duke of York, 
 Was rightful heir unto the English crown: 
 And that your majesty was an usurper. 
 
 K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words ? 
 
 Hor. Ant shall please your majesty, I never said 
 nor thought any such matter : God is uiy witness, I 
 am falsely accused by the villain. 
 
 Pet. By these ten bones, my lords, {holding up 
 his hands) he did speak them to me in the garret 
 one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's 
 armour. 
 
 York. Base dunghill villain, and mechanical, 
 I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech : — 
 I do beseech your royal' majesty. 
 Let him have all the rigour of the law. 
 
 Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the 
 words. My accuser is my prentice ; and when I 
 did correct him for his fault the other day, he did 
 vow upon his knees he would be even with me : I 
 have good witness of this; therefore, I beseech 
 your niajesty, do not cast away an honest man for a 
 villain's accusation. 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? 
 
 Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge. 
 Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 
 Because in York this breeds suspicion : 
 Aiul let the.se have a day appointed them 
 For single coinbat in convenient place ; 
 F''f he li.4tli witness of his servant's malice : 
 This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom. 
 
 K. Hen. Tlien be it so. My lord of Somerset, 
 We make your grace lord regent o'er the French. 
 
 Som. I hnmljly thank your royal majesty. 
 
 Hor. And I accejit the combat willmgly. 
 
 Pet. Alas, tny lord, I cannot fight; for God's 
 sake, pity my case ! the spite of man prevailefh 
 against me. O lord have n)ercy upon me I I shall 
 never be able to fight a blow : O lord, my heart I 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hangd. 
 
 a. Hen. Away with them to prison : and the day 
 Of combat shall be the last of the next month. — 
 Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. [Exfeimt. 
 
 Scene IV". — The same. T/i£ Duke of Gloster s 
 Garden. 
 
 Enter Margery Jourdain, Hume, Southwell 
 
 and BOLINGBROKE. 
 
 Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell 
 you, expects performance of your promises. 
 
 Doling. Master Hume, we are therefore pro- 
 vided : Will her ladyship behold and hear our ex- 
 orcisms ? 
 
 Hume. Ay ; What else ? fear you not her courage. 
 
 Doling. I have heard her reported to be a woman 
 of an invincible spirit: But it shall be convenient, 
 master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we 
 be busy below; and so, I pray you, go in God's 
 name, and leave ns. [Exit Hume.] Mother Jour- 
 dain, be you prostrate, and grovel on the earth : — 
 John Southwell, read you ; and let us to our work. 
 
 Enter Duchess, above. 
 
 Duch. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. 
 To this gear; the sooner the better. 
 Baling. Patience, good lady; wizards know their 
 times : 
 Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, 
 The time of night when Troy was set on fire ; 
 The time \vhen screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl. 
 And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their grave.--, 
 That time best fits the work we have in hand. 
 Madam, sit you, and fear not ; whom we raise, * 
 We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. 
 
 {Here they petform the ceremonies a])pertaiii- 
 ing, and make the circle; BoUngbruhe, or 
 Southwell, reads, Conjurote, &c. It thunders 
 and lightens terribly ; then the Spirit riseih.) 
 Spir. Adsum. 
 M. Jourd. Asmath, 
 By the eternal God, whose name and power 
 Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ; 
 For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence. 
 Sjnr. Ask what thou wilt: — That I had said and 
 
 done ! 
 BoUng. First, of the king. — What shall of him 
 become! {Redding out of a paper.) 
 
 Spir. The duke yet lives, that henry shall depose; 
 But him outlive, and die a violent death. 
 {As the Spirit speaks, Southivell ivrites the an- 
 swer.) 
 Doling. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk ' 
 Spir. By water shall he die, and take his enJ. 
 Doling. What shall befall the duke of Somerset ^ 
 Spir. Let him shun castles ; 
 Safer shall he be upon th^ sandy plains 
 Than where castles mounted stand. 
 Have done, for more I hardly can endure. 
 
 Baling. Descend to darkness, and the burning lake: 
 Fal.se fiend, avoid ! 
 
 [Thunder and lightning. Spirit descends. 
 
 Enter York and Buckingham hastily, with their 
 Guards, and others. 
 
 York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their 
 trash. 
 Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch. — 
 What, madam, are you there? the king and com- 
 monweal 
 Are deeply indebted for th-s piece of pains; 
 My lord protector will, I doubt it mt. 
 See you well guerdon'd lor these good deserts. 
 
Act it. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 419 
 
 Duck. Not lialf so bad as thine It) England's king, 
 hijiirimis duke ; lliat threat'st whore is no cause. 
 Buck. 'IViw, madam, none at all. What call yoti 
 
 tills :" {Shewintj her the papers.) 
 
 Away with them ; let thcni be clajjp'd up close, 
 And kept asunder :— You, raadani, shall with us :— 
 ijtiillbrd, take her to thee.— — 
 
 [Exit Duchess from obove. 
 We'll see your trinkets here all lorthcouiinfr ; 
 All.— Away! 
 
 [Exeunt Guards, tcich South.., Bolirif/., §fc. 
 York. Lord Buckingham, metliinks, you watcu'd 
 
 her well : 
 A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! 
 Now, pray, my lord, Jefs see the devil's writ. 
 What liave we here V [Reads. 
 
 The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ; 
 But him outlive, and die a violent df.ath. 
 Why, this is just. 
 
 Aio te, A^acida Romanos vincere posse. 
 Well, to the rest : 
 
 Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk? 
 By irater shall he die, and take his end. — 
 ]i^hat shall betide the duke of Somerset I 
 Let him shun castles ; 
 Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
 Than where castles mounted stand. 
 Come, come, my lords; 
 These oracles are hardily attain'd. 
 And hardly understood. 
 
 The king is now in progress toward Saint Albau's, 
 With him the husband of this lovely lady : 
 Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry 
 
 them ; 
 A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. 
 
 Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my lord 
 
 of York, 
 To be the post, in hope of his reward. 
 
 York. At your pleasure, my good lord. — Who's 
 within there, ho ? 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Ia\ite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick, 
 To sup with nie tomorrow night. — Away \[Exeunt 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Saint Albans. 
 Enter King Henrv, Queen Margaret, Gloster, 
 Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Falconers hollaing. 
 
 Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, 
 f saw not better sport these seven years' day: 
 Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high; 
 And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. 
 
 K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon 
 made, 
 And what a pitch she flew above the rest !-- 
 To see how God in all his creatures works ! 
 Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. 
 
 Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, 
 My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
 They know their master loves to be aloft. 
 And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. 
 
 Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind. 
 That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 
 
 Car. I tliought as much ; he'd be above the 
 clouds. [that? 
 
 Glc. Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by 
 Were it not good, your grace could tly to heaven? 
 
 K. Hen. 'I'lie treasury of everlasting joy ! 
 
 Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and 
 thoughts 
 Beat on a crown, the treaanr^ of thy heart; 
 Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, 
 That smootli'st it so with king and commonweal ! 
 
 Glo. What, cardinal, is your priestliood grown 
 Tantane animis ccelestibus ires! (peremptory ? 
 Churclimen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice; 
 With suci; holiness can you do it? 
 
 Sitf. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes 
 So good a (jiiarrel, and so bad a peer. 
 
 Glo. As who, my 1^fd ? 
 
 Suf. Why, as you, my lord j 
 
 Ant like your lordly lord-protectorship. 
 
 Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine ins<> 
 
 Q.Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster. [lence. 
 
 K. Hen. I pr'ythee, peace. 
 
 Good queen ; and whet not on these furious peers. 
 For blessed are the peace-makers on earth. 
 
 Car. Let aie be blessed for the peace I make. 
 Against this proud protector, with my sword ! 
 
 Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to 
 that! [Aside to the Cardinal.) 
 
 Car. Marry, when thou dar'st. . (Aside.) 
 
 Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, 
 In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Aside.) 
 
 Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep : an if thou 
 dar'st, 
 This evening on the cast side of the grove. [Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. How now, my lords ? 
 
 Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster, 
 
 Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly. 
 We had had more sport. — Come with thy two-hand 
 sword. [Aside to Glo.) 
 
 Glo. True, uncle. 
 
 Car. Are you ad vis'd ? — (he east side of the grove ? 
 
 Glo. Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. Why, how now^ uncle Gloster ? 
 
 Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. — 
 Now, by God's mother, jiriest, I'll shave your crowd 
 
 for this. 
 Or all my fence shall fail. (Aside.) 
 
 Car. Medice teipsuni ; 
 Protector, see to't well, protect yourself. (Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. The winds grow high ; so do your sto- 
 machs, lords. 
 How irksome is this music to my heart! 
 When such strings jar, what hope of harmony ? 
 I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. 
 
 Enter an Inhabitant of Saint Albans, crying, 
 A Miracle! 
 
 Glo. What means this noise? 
 Fellow, what miracle dcst thou proclaim? 
 
 Inhab. A miracle ! a nsiracle ! 
 
 Suf. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle 
 
 Inhab. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban'a 
 shrine. 
 Within this half hour, hath received his sight 
 A man. that ne'er saw in his life before. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd I that to believing 
 souls 
 Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! 
 
 Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans, and his 
 Brethren; and SiMPCOX, bortie between tivo 
 persons in a chair; his Wife and a great Mul- 
 titude following. 
 Car. Here come the townsmen in procession. 
 
 To present your highness with the man. 
 
 K. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale. 
 
 Although by his sight his sin be multi|jlied. 
 
 Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the 
 
 His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. 
 
 K. Hen. Good fellow, tell ns here the circum- 
 stance, 
 That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
 What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd : 
 
 Simp. Born blind, an't please your grace. 
 
 Wife. Ay, indeed, was he. 
 
 Suf. What woman is this ? 
 
 Wife. His wife, an't like your worship. 
 
 iClo. Had'st thou lieen his mother, thou could'st 
 have better told. 
 
 K. Han. Where wert thou born ? 
 
 Simp. At Berwick, in the north, an't like youi 
 grace. [great to thee : 
 
 K. Hen. Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been 
 Let never djy nor night unhallow'd pass. 
 But still remember what the Lord hath done. 
 
420 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Q. Mar, Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here 
 by chance. 
 Or of devotion, to this holy shrine ? 
 
 Simp. God knows, of pure devotion ; being call'd 
 A hundred times, and oft'ner, in my sleep 
 By good Saint Alban ; wiio said, — Simpcox come; 
 Come, offer at my shrine, and I tvill help thee. 
 
 TVife. Most true, forsooth ; and many time and 
 Myself have heard a voice to call him so. [oft 
 
 Car. What, art thou lame ? 
 Simp. Ay, (xod Almighty help me ! 
 
 Su[. How cam'st thou so ? 
 Sitnp. A fall off a tree. 
 
 Wife. A plum-tree, master. 
 Glo. How long hast thou been blind ? 
 
 Simp. O, born so, master. 
 
 Glo. What, and would'st climb a tree ? 
 
 Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. 
 Wife. Too true; and bought his climbing very 
 
 dear. 
 Glo. 'Mass, thou lov'dstplums well, that would'st 
 
 venture so. 
 Simp. Alas ! good master, my wife desii-'d some 
 damsons. 
 And made ine climb, with dimgerof niy life. 
 
 Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve.— 
 Let ine see thine eyes; — wink now; now open 
 
 them : — 
 (u my opinion yet thou see'st not well. 
 Simp. Yes, master, clear as day ; I thank God 
 
 and Saint Alban. , 
 Glo. Say'st thou rae so"' What colour is this cloak 
 
 of? 
 Simp. Red, master; red as blood. 
 Glo. Why that's well said : What colour is my 
 
 gown ot ? 
 Simp. Black, forsooth ; coal-black, as jet. 
 K. Hen. Why, then, thou knowst what colour 
 
 jet is of? 
 Suf. And yet. I think, jet did he never see. 
 Gio. But cloaks, and gowns, before this day, a 
 
 many. 
 Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life. 
 Glo. Tell nie, sirrah, whafs my name ? 
 Simp. Alas, master, I know not. 
 Glo. Wliafs his name ? 
 Simp. I know not. 
 Glo. Nor his? 
 Simp. No, indeed, master. 
 Glo. What's thine own name? 
 Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, 
 
 master. 
 Glo. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest 
 knave 
 In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind. 
 Thou might st as well have known our names, as thus 
 To name the several colours we do wear. 
 Sight may distinguish of colours ; but suddenly 
 To non)inate them all, 's impossible. — 
 My lords, Saint .\lban here hath done a miracle ; 
 And would ye not think that cunning to be great, 
 Ihat could restore this cripple to his legs? 
 Simp. O, master, that you could ! 
 Glo. My masters of Saint Albaii's, have you not 
 beadles in your town, and tilings called whips? 
 May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. 
 Glo. Then send for one presently. 
 May. Siirah go fetch the beadle hither straight. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. (A 
 
 atool brought out.) Now, sirrah, if you mean to 
 
 save youiself from whipping, leap me over this 
 
 stool, and run away. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone: 
 You go about to torture me in vain. 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, with the Beadle. 
 
 Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. 
 -Sirrah beadle, whip liiin till he leap over that 
 iame stooL 
 
 Bead. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah; off 
 
 with your doublet quickly. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, what .shall I do? I am not 
 able to stand. ^ 
 
 [After the Beadle hath hit him once, he 
 leaps over the stool, and runs away ; and 
 the pi'oph follow, and cry : A 7niracle . 
 K. Hen. O God, see"st thou tiii-i, and bear'st so 
 
 long ? 
 Q. Mar. it made me laugh, to see the villain run. 
 Glo. Follow the knave ; and take this drab away. 
 Wife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. 
 Glo. Let them be whipped through every market 
 town, till tiiey come to Berwick, whence they came. 
 [Exeitnt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, §'c. 
 Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to day. 
 Suf. True ; made the lame to leap, and fly away. 
 Glo. But you have done more miracles than 1 ; 
 You niade,'iu a day, my lord, whole towns to ily. 
 
 Enter Buckingham. 
 
 K. Hen. What tidings wth our cousin Bucking- 
 ham ? 
 
 Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to u ifo'.d 
 A sort (if naughty persons, lewdly bent, — 
 Under the countenance and confederacy 
 Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, 
 The ringleader and head of all this rout, — 
 Have practised dangerously against your state. 
 Dealing with witches, and with conjurers : 
 VVhom we have apprehended in the fact; 
 Raising up wicked spirits from under ground. 
 Demanding of king Henry's life and death, 
 And other of your highness' privy council. 
 As more at large your grace shall understand. 
 
 Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means 
 Your lady is foi thcoming yet at London. 
 This news, I think, hath tiirud your weapon's ed^e : 
 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. 
 
 (Aside to Glus!er.) 
 
 Glo, Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict iny 
 heart! 
 Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all Yny powers : 
 And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee. 
 Or to the meanest groom. 
 
 K. Hen. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked 
 ones : 
 Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the taintirre ol thy nest; 
 And. look, thyself be faultless, thou vver't best. 
 
 Glo. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal. 
 How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal : 
 .^nd, for my wife, I know not how it stands; 
 Sorry I am to hear what 1 have heard: 
 Noble she is; but if she have forgot 
 Honour and virtue, and convers'd with such 
 As, like to pitch, defile nobility, 
 I banish her my bed, and company; 
 And give her, as a prey, to law, and shame, 
 That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name. 
 
 K. Hen. Well, for this night, we will reppse us 
 here : 
 To-morrow, toward London, back again. 
 To look into this business thoroughly, 
 And call these foul oilendeis to their answers; 
 .\rid poise the cause in justice' equal scales. 
 Whose beam stands sure, whuse rishtful cause 
 prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt 
 
 Scene U.— London. The Duke of York's Garden. 
 Enter York, Salisbury, a7id Warwick. 
 York. Now. my good lords of Salisbury and 
 Warwick, 
 Our simple supper ended, give me leave, 
 In this close walk, to satisfy myself, 
 In craving your opinion of my title. 
 Which is infallible, to England's crown. 
 Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at (M. 
 War. Sweet York, begin : and if thy claim b« 
 good. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 421 
 
 Tlie Ncvils «re thy subjects to command. 
 
 York. Then thus : — 
 Edward the third, my lords, had seven sons: 
 The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of 
 
 Wales ; 
 Tlie second, William of Hatfield ; and tlie third, 
 Lionel, duke of Clarence ; next to vviiom. 
 Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster : 
 The filth, was Edniond Langley, duke of York: 
 I'he sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of 
 
 Glosler j 
 William of Winnsor was the seventh and last. 
 Edward, the Black Prince, died heliare his father; 
 And left behind him Richard, his only son. Iking; 
 Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as 
 Till Henry Bolingliroke, duke of Lancaster, 
 The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, 
 Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, 
 Seiz'd on the realm ; depos'd the rightful king ; 
 Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she 
 
 caine, 
 And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, 
 Harndess Richard was murder'd traitorously. 
 
 War. Father, tlie duke hath told the truth; 
 Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. 
 
 York. Which now they hold by force, and not by 
 right ; 
 For Richard, the first son's heir being dead, 
 'I'he issue of the next son should have reign'd. 
 
 Sal. But William of Hatfield died without an 
 heir. 
 
 York. The third son, duke of Clarence, (from 
 whose line, 
 I claim the crown,} had issue — Philippe, a daughter. 
 Who (narried Edmutid IMortimer, earl of iMarch : 
 Edmund had issue — Roger, carF of March ; 
 Roger had issue — Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. 
 
 Sal. This Edmcmd, in the reign of Bolingbroke, 
 As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; 
 And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king. 
 Who kept him in captivity, till he died. 
 But to the rest. 
 
 York. His eldest sister, Anne, 
 
 j\Iy mother, being heir imto the crown, 
 Married Richard, earl of Cambridge ; who was son 
 To Edmund Langley, Edward the Tiiird's fifth son. 
 By her 1 claim the kingdom : she was the son 
 Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe, 
 Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence : 
 ijo, if the issue of the elder son 
 tiucceed before the younger, I am king. 
 
 War. What plain proceedings are more plain 
 than this ? 
 Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, 
 'I'he fourth son; York claims it from the third. 
 Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign: 
 It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee. 
 And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. — 
 Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together; 
 And in this private plot, be we the first. 
 That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
 With honour of his birtriright to the crown. 
 
 Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, Eng- 
 land's king ! [king 
 
 York. We thank you, lords. But I am not your 
 Till I be crown'd ; and that my sword be stain'd 
 With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster* 
 And that's not suddenly to be peribrm'd; 
 But with advice, and silent secrecy. 
 Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, 
 Wink at the duke of SuHblks insolence, 
 At Beaufort's pnrle, at Somerset's ambition. 
 At Buckingham, and all the crew of them. 
 Till they have snar'd the shepherd ol the, flock. 
 That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey : 
 'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking tiiat. 
 Shall find tlieir deatiis, if York can prophesy. 
 
 Sal. My lord, break we off; we know your mind 
 at full. [Warwick 
 
 War. My heart assures me, that the earl of 
 
 Shall one day make the duke of York a kinjf. 
 
 York. And, Ne\il, (his 1 do assure inyaelf.— 
 Richaril shall live to niiiko the earl of VVarwick 
 'I he greatest man in England, i)iit the king. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III.— T/ie same. A Hall of Justice. 
 
 Trumpets sounded. Enter King Henry, Queen 
 Margaret, Gloster, York, Suffolk, and 
 Salisbury; the Duchess &_/ tiLosTER. Margery 
 JouRDAiN, Southwell, tiuJiE, and Boling 
 BROKE, under (juard. 
 
 K. Hen. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, 
 Gloster's wif>' : 
 In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great; 
 Receive the sentence of the law, for sins 
 Such as by God's book are adjiidg'd to death. — 
 You four, from hence to prison back auain ; 
 
 {To Jourd., §-C.) 
 From thence, unto the place of execution : 
 The witch in Smithfielci shall be burnd to ashes, 
 And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. — 
 You, madam, for you are more nobly born. 
 Despoiled of your honour in your life, 
 Shall, after three days' open penance done, 
 Live in your country here, in banishment. 
 With sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man. 
 
 Durh. Welcome is banishment, welcome were 
 my death. 
 
 Glo. Elearmr, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee; 
 I cannot justify whom the law condemns. — , 
 
 [Exeunt the Duchess and the other Prisoners, 
 guarded. 
 IVline eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. 
 Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age 
 Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground ! — 
 I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go ; 
 Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease. 
 
 K. Hen. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster : ere 
 thou go. 
 Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself 
 Protector be : and God shall be my hope, 
 My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet; 
 And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd. 
 Than wlien thou wert protector to thy king. 
 
 Q. Mar. I see no reason, why a king of years 
 Should be to be protected like a child. — 
 God and king Henry govern England's helm . 
 Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. 
 
 Glo. My staff? — here, noble Henry, is my sfaflF 
 As willingly do I the same resign. 
 As ere thy father Henry made it mine ; 
 And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it. 
 As others would ambitiously receive it. 
 Farewell, good king : When I am dead and gone. 
 May honourable peace attend thy throne ! [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret 
 queen ; 
 And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself. 
 That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once,— 
 His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd of}"; 
 This staff of honour raught : — There let it stand, 
 Where it best fits fo be, in Henry's hand. 
 
 Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs hid 
 sj)rays ; 
 Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. 
 
 York. Lords, let him go. — Please it your majesty 
 This is the day appointed for the combat ; 
 And ready are the appellant and defendant. 
 The armourer and his man, to enter the lists. 
 So please your highness to behold the fight. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord ; for purposely there* 
 fore 
 Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. 
 
 K. Hen. O'God's name, see the lists and all 
 things fit ; 
 Here let them end it, and God defend the right! 
 
 York. I never saw a fellow worse bested. 
 Or more afraid to fight, (ban is the appellant, 
 Tlie ser\ant of this armourer, my lords. 
 
423 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act it. 
 
 Enter, on one side, Horner, and his Neighbours, 
 drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and 
 lie enters bearing his staff ivith a sand-bag 
 fastened to it ; a drum before him : at the other 
 side, Peter, with a drum and a similar staff; 
 accampanied by Prentices drinking to him. 
 
 1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you 
 in a cup of sack ; And fear not, neigiibour, you shall 
 do well enough. 
 
 2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of 
 
 charneco. 
 
 3 Neigh. And here's a pot of good double beer, 
 neipihbour : drink, and fear not your man. 
 
 Hor. Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; 
 And a fig for Peter! 
 
 1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be 
 not afraid. 
 
 2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy mas- 
 ter ; fight for credit of the prentices. 
 
 Peter. I thank you all : drink, and pray for me, 
 I pray you; for, 1 think, I have taken my last 
 draught in this world.— Here, Robin, an if I die, 
 I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shall have 
 my hammer:— and here, Tom, take all the money 
 that 1 have.— O Lord, bless me, 1 pray God ! for I 
 am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt 
 so much fence already. 
 
 Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. 
 
 Sirrah, what's thy name ? 
 
 Pettr. Peter, forsooth. 
 
 Sal. Peter! what more ? 
 
 Peiei, Thump. [well. 
 
 Sal. Thump! then see thou thump thy master 
 
 Hor. Masters, I am come hitlier, as it were, upon 
 my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and 
 myself an honest man : and touching the duke of 
 York, — will take my death, I never meant him any 
 ill, nor the king, nor the queen : And therefore, 
 Peter, have at tliee with a dowmight blow, as Bevis 
 of Southampton i'ell upon Ascapart. 
 
 York. Despatch : — this knave's tongue begins to 
 double. 
 Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants. 
 
 {Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes doivn 
 his master. 
 
 Hor. Hold, Peter, liold ! I confess, I confess 
 treason. {Dies.) 
 
 York. Take away his weapon: — Fellow, thank. 
 God, and the good wine in thy master's way. 
 
 Peter. O God! have I overcome mine enenii<^s 
 in this presence ? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in 
 rigb*! . [sight; 
 
 K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our 
 For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt : 
 And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us 
 The truth and innocence of this poor fellow. 
 Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- 
 fully.— 
 Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— TAc same. A Street. 
 
 Enter Gloster anc? Servants, in mourning cloaks. 
 
 Glo. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a 
 And, after summer, evermore succeeds [cloud ; 
 l>ai ren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : 
 So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. 
 Sirs, what's o'clock V 
 
 Serv. Ten, my lord. 
 
 Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me. 
 To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess : 
 Uneath may she endure the flinty streets. 
 To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. 
 Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook 
 The abject people, gazing on thy face. 
 With envious looks still laughing at thy shame ; 
 That erst did i'ollow thy proud chariot wheels. 
 When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. 
 But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare 
 My tear-stain'd eyes to .see her miseries. 
 
 Enter the Duchess o/Glostbr, in a white jhe§f, 
 with papers pinn'd upon her back, her feet bare, 
 and a taper burning in her hand; Sir John 
 Stanley, a Sheriff] and Officers. 
 
 Serv. So please your grace, we'll take her from 
 the sheriff. 
 
 Clo. No, stir not, for your lives ; let her pass by. 
 
 Duch.' Come you, my lord, to see my opeu 
 shame ? 
 Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze ! 
 See, how the giddy multitude do point. 
 And nod their heads, and throw tiieir eyes on thee ' 
 Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks; 
 And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame. 
 And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. 
 
 Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell ; forget this grief. 
 
 Duck. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget niyselil 
 For, whilst I think I am thy married wife. 
 And thou a prince, protector of this land, 
 Methinks, 1 should not thus be led along, 
 Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back ; 
 And foUow'd with a rabble, that rejoice 
 To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet groans. 
 The ruthless tlint doth cut my tender feet; 
 And, when I start, the envious people laugh, 
 And bid me be advised how I tread. 
 Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke 
 Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world; 
 Or count them haj)py, that enjoy the sun '? 
 No; dark shall be my light, and night my day ; 
 To think upon my pousp, shall be my hell. 
 Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humptirey's wife; 
 And he a prince, and ruler of tiie land : 
 Yet so he nil'd, and such a prince he was. 
 As he .stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess. 
 Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock. 
 To every idle rascal follower. 
 But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame; 
 Nor stir at nothing, till the ase of death 
 Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will. 
 For SulFolk, — he, that can do all in all. 
 With her that hateth thee, and hates us all, — 
 And York, and im|iious Beaufort, tiiat false pries*, 
 Hav e all iim'd bushes to betray thy wings. 
 And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle tljee : 
 But fear not tiiou, until thy foot be snar'd. 
 Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. 
 
 Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry; 
 I must ofl'i-nd, before 1 be attainted : 
 And had I twenty times so many foes, 
 And each of them had twenty times their power. 
 All these could not procure me any scathe. 
 So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. 
 Wouldst have me rescue tiiee from tiiis reproach ? 
 Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away. 
 But 1 ill danger for the breach of law. 
 Thy greatest lielp is quiet, gentle Nell; 
 I pray thee, sort thy ln^art to patience ; 
 Tiiese few days' wonder will be quickly worn. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's parlia- 
 ment, holden at Bury the first of this next month 
 
 Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before 1 
 This is close dealing. — Well, I will be there. 
 
 [Exit Herald. 
 My Nell, I take my leave :— and, master sheritf. 
 Let not her penance exceed the king's commission. 
 
 Sher. Ant please your grace, here my commis- 
 sion stays : 
 And sir John Stanley is appointed now 
 'J'o take her with him to the isle of Man. 
 
 Glo. Must you, sir John, protect my lady here? 
 
 Stan. So am I given in charge, may't please yom 
 grace. 
 
 Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray 
 You use her well : the world may laugh agaa; 
 And I may live to do you kindness, if 
 You do it her. And .so, sir John, farewelL 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 423 
 
 Duch. What, gone, my lord; and bid me not 
 
 farewell "f 
 Gio. Wilness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. 
 
 [Exeunt Glosler and Servants. 
 Duch. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with 
 thee ! 
 For none abides witli nie ; my joy is— death ; 
 Death, at whose name 1 oft have been afeard, 
 Because I wish'd this world's eternity. — 
 Stanley, I pr'ythee go, and take nic hence ; 
 
 I care not whither, for 1 beg no favour. 
 Only convey me where tliou art commanded. 
 
 Stan. Wiiy, madam, that is to the isle of Man ; 
 There to be used according to your state. 
 
 Duch. That's had enough, for I am but reproach : 
 And shall I then bo us'd reproachfully? 
 
 Stan. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's 
 . lady. 
 According to that state you shall be used. 
 
 Duch Sheritf, farewell, and better than I fare ; 
 Although tiiou hast been conduct of my shame ! 
 
 Slier. It is my tiffice ; and, madam, pardon me. 
 
 Duch. Ay, ay, farewell ; thy office is discharg'd. — 
 Come, Stanh y, shall we go '( 
 
 Stan. Madam, your penance done, thro%v off this 
 sheet. 
 And go we to attire you for our journey. 
 
 Duck. My shame will not be shifted with my 
 sheet : 
 No, it will hang upon my richest robes. 
 And shew itself, attire me how I can. 
 Go, lead the way ; I long to see my prison. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The Abbey at Bury. 
 
 Enter to the Parliament King Henky, Queen 
 Maugaret, Cardinal Beaufokt, JSuffolk, 
 York, Buckingham, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. I muse, my lord of Glostcr is not come : 
 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, 
 VVhate'er occasion keeps him from us now. 
 
 Q. Mar. Can you not see ? or will you not observe 
 The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? 
 With what a majesty he bears himself; 
 How insolent of late he is b»come. 
 How proud, pereuiptory, and unlike himself? 
 We know the time, since he was mild and affable ; 
 And, if we did but glance a far-off look. 
 Immediately ho, was upon his knee, 
 That all the court admir'd him for submission : 
 But meet him now, and, be it in tiie morn. 
 When every one will give the time of day. 
 He knits his brow, and shews an angry eye. 
 And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee. 
 Disdaining duty that to us belongs. 
 Small curs are not regarded when they grin ; 
 But great men tremble when the lion roars; 
 And Humphrey is no little man in England. 
 First, note, that he is near you in descent; 
 And should you tall, he is the next will mumit 
 Me seemeth then, it is no policy, — 
 llespecting what a rancorous mind he bears. 
 And his advantage following your decease, — 
 That he should come about your royal person. 
 Or be admitted to your highness' council. 
 By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ; 
 And, when he please to make connuotion, 
 'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him. 
 Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; 
 Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden. 
 And choke the herbs for want of liusbandry. 
 The reverent care, I bear unto n!y lord, 
 Made me coiled these dangers in the duke. 
 
 II it be fund, call it \\. wonuin's fear; 
 Which fear if better reasons can supplant, 
 
 I w;ll siibsfribf and s;ij' — I wrong'd tlje duke. 
 My lord of Suffolk, — Buckingliam, — .md York, — 
 Reprove my allegation, if you can; 
 Or else conclude my words effectual. 
 
 Suf. Well hath your highness seen into this dnke , 
 And, had 1 first been put to speak my mind, 
 I think, I should have told your grace's tale. 
 The duchess, by his subornation. 
 Upon my life began her devilish practices; 
 Or if he were not privy to those faults. 
 Yet, by reputing ot his high descent, 
 (As next the king, he was successive heir,) 
 And such high vaunts of his nobility. 
 Did instigate the bedlam braiij-sick duchess, 
 By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. 
 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ; 
 And in his simple shew he harbours treason. 
 The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb 
 No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man 
 Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. 
 
 Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law, 
 Devise strange deaths, for small offences done ? 
 
 York. And did he not, in his protectorship. 
 Levy great sinns of money througli the realm. 
 For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? 
 By means whereof, the towns each day revolted. 
 
 Buck. Tut! these are petty faults to faults uii 
 known. 
 Which time will bring to light in smooth duke 
 Humphrey. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, at once : The care you have 
 of us. 
 To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot. 
 Is worthy praise : But shall I speak my conscience ? 
 Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent 
 From meaning treason to our royal person, 
 As is the suckling lamb, or harmless dove : 
 The Duke is virtuous, mild ; and (oo well given. 
 To dream on evil, or to work my downfall. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangfrous than thi« 
 fond affiance ! 
 Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrow'd. 
 For he's disposed as the hateful raven. 
 Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him, 
 For he's inclin'd, as are the ravenous wolves. 
 Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit ? 
 Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us all 
 Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. 
 
 Enter Somerset. 
 Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign ! 
 K. Hen. Welcome, lord Somerset. What news 
 
 from France ? ^ 
 
 Som. That all your interest iu those territories 
 Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost. 
 K. Hen. Cold news, lord Somerset: but God's 
 
 will be done. 
 York. Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France, 
 As firmly as I hope for fertile England. 
 Thus are my blossoms blasted in (he bud. 
 And caterpillars eat ray leaves away 
 But I will remedy this gear ere long. 
 Or sell my title for a glorious grave. (Aside.) 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Ola. All happiness unto my lord the king! 
 Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long. 
 Suf. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too 
 soon. 
 Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: 
 I do arrest thee of high treason here. 
 Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me 
 blush. 
 Nor change my countenance for this arrest; 
 A heart unspotted is nut easily daunted. 
 The purest spring is not so Iree from mud. 
 As I am clear I'rom treason to my sovereign: 
 Who can accuse me ? wherein am I guilty? 
 
 York. 'Tis thought, my lord, tliat you took bribes 
 of Fiance, 
 And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay; 
 By means whereof, his highness hath lost France. 
 Glo. Is it but thought so? What are they that 
 think it? 
 
424 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay. 
 
 Nor over had one penny bribe from France. 
 
 So help me God, as 1 have watch'd the night. — 
 
 Ay, night by night, in studying good for England ! 
 
 That doit, that e'er 1 wrested from the king. 
 
 Or any groat I hoarded to my use. 
 
 Be broiiglit against me at my trial day ! 
 
 No! many a pound of mine own proper store. 
 
 Because I would not tax the needy commons, 
 
 Have I dispersed to the garrisons. 
 
 And never ask'd for restitution. 
 
 Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. 
 
 Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me God ! 
 
 York. In your protectorship, you did devise 
 Strange tortures for otlenders, never heard of. 
 That Enniand was defain'd by tyranny. 
 
 Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that whiles I was 
 protector. 
 Pity was all the fault that was in me ; 
 For I should melt at an offender's tears, 
 And lowly words were ransom for their fault. 
 Unless it were a bloody murderer. 
 Or foul felonious thief, that fleec'd poor passengers, 
 I never gave them condign punishment: 
 Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd 
 Above the felon, or what trespass else. 
 
 Svf. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly an- 
 swer'd : 
 But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge. 
 Whereof you cantiot easily purge yourself. 
 I do arrest you in his highness' name ; 
 And here cimimit you to my lord cardinal 
 To keep, until your further time of trial. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope, 
 That you will clear yourself from all suspects; 
 My conscience tells me, you are innocent. 
 
 Glo. Ah, gracious lordf, these days are dangerous! 
 Virtue is cliok'd with foul ambition. 
 And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ; 
 Foul subornation is predotuniant, 
 And equity exil'd your highness' land. 
 1 know, their coni|)lot is to have my life ; 
 And, if my death might make this island happy. 
 And prove the period of their tyranny, 
 I would expend it with all willingness : 
 But mine is made the prologue to their play ; 
 For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril. 
 Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. 
 Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, 
 And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; 
 Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue, 
 The envious load that lays upon his heart : 
 And dogged York, that reaches at the moon. 
 Whose' overweening arm I have pluck'd back. 
 By false accuse doth level at my hie : — 
 And you, my sovereign laily with the rest. 
 Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ; 
 And, with your best endeavour, ha\e stirr'd up 
 My liefest liege to be mine enemy : — 
 Ay, all of you have laid your heads together. 
 Myself had notice of your conventicles, 
 .\nd all to make away my guiltless life : 
 I shall not want false witness to condemn me. 
 Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt; 
 The ancient proverb will be well effected, — 
 A stalf is quickly found to beat a do-^. 
 
 Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable : 
 If those, that care to keep your royal person 
 From treason's secret knile, and traitors' rage. 
 Be tiius upbraided, chid, and rated at. 
 And the otfender granted scope of speech, 
 "Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace. 
 
 Suf. 1 lath he not twit (uir sovereign lady here 
 With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, 
 As if she had suborned some to swear 
 False allegations, to o'erthrow his state ? 
 
 Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide. 
 
 Glo. Far truer spoke than meant : I lose, indeed; — 
 Beshrcw the winners, for they played me false i 
 And well such losers may have leave to speak. 
 
 Buc. He'll wrest the sense, and hold n» here all 
 day : — 
 Lord cardinal, he is your i)risoncr. [sure. 
 
 Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him 
 
 Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch. 
 Before his legs be firm to bear his body : 
 Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, 
 And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. 
 Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were ! 
 For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants, with Gloster. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords what to your wisdom seemetb 
 best. 
 Do, or undo, as ifourself were here. 
 
 Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the 
 parliament? 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd 
 with grief, 
 Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ; 
 My body round engirt with misery ; 
 For what's more miserable than discontent? 
 Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see 
 The map of honour, truth, and loyalty ; 
 And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come, 
 That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith. 
 What low'ring star now envies thy estate, 
 That these great lords, and Margaret our queen. 
 Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ? 
 Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong : 
 And as the butcher takes away the calf, 
 And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays. 
 Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; 
 Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence. 
 And as the dam runs lowing up and down. 
 Looking the way her harmless young one went, 
 And can do nought but wail her darling's loss; 
 Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case 
 With sad unhelpful tears ; and with dinim'd eyes 
 Look after him, and cannot do him good ; 
 So mighty are his vowed enemies. 
 His fortunes I will weep; and, 'tvvixt each gruiiti, 
 Say — Whos a traitor 1 Gloster he is none. \Exii. 
 
 Q. Mar. Free lords, cold snow melts witii iii« 
 sun's hot beams. 
 Henry, my lord, is cold in great affairs. 
 Too full of foolish pity : and Gloster's shew 
 Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile 
 With sorrow snares relenting passengers ; 
 Or as the snake, roll d in a flowering bank. 
 With shining rhequer'd slough, doth sting a cliild. 
 That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent. 
 Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, 
 ( And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good,) 
 'I'his Gloster should be quickly rid the world. 
 To rid us from the fear we luue of him. 
 
 Car. Tliat he should die is worthy policy : 
 But yet we want a colour for his deatli : 
 "I'is meet he be condenm'd by course of law. 
 
 Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy : 
 The king will labour still to save his life. 
 The connnons liajily rise to save his life ; 
 And yet we have but trivial argument, 
 More than mistrust, that shews him worthy death. 
 
 York. So that by this, you would not have him die. 
 
 Suf. Ah, Y'ork, no man alive so fain as I. 
 
 York. 'Tis York, that hath more reason for his 
 death.— 
 But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suflblk,— 
 Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, — 
 Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set 
 To guard the chicken from a hungry kite. 
 As place duke Humi-hrey for the king's protector? 
 
 Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure oi 
 death. Ithen, 
 
 Suf. Madam, 'tis true: And wer't not madness^ 
 To make the fox surveyor of the fold ? 
 Who being accus'd a crafty murderer; 
 His guilt should be but idly posted over. 
 Because his purpose is not executed. 
 No ; let him die, in that he is a fox. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 425 
 
 Oy nature prov'd au enemy to (he flack, 
 Hefore his chaps be stain'd with eritiison blood; 
 As Huiiiprey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. 
 And do not stand on quillets, how to slny him : 
 lie it i>y gins, by snares, by snbtilty. 
 Sleeping, or wakinsj, (is no matter how, 
 So lie be dead ; for that is good deceit 
 VVliich mates hini (irst, that tirst intends deceit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thrice noble SnHolk.'tis lesoltitely spoke. 
 
 S/if. Not resolute, except so much were done; 
 Fiir tilings are often spoke, and seldom meant: 
 Hut, that my heart accordeth with my tongue, — 
 Seeiui,' the deed is meritorious, 
 And to preserve my sovereit;ii IVom his foe, — 
 Say but the word, and I will be his jiriest. 
 
 Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of 
 Sutfolk, 
 Ere you can take due orders for a priest : 
 Say, you consent, and censure well the deed. 
 And I'll provide his executioner, 
 I tender so the safety of my liege. 
 
 Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. 
 
 Q. Mar. And so say I. 
 
 York. And I : and now we three have spoke it, 
 It skills nut greatly who impugns our doom 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Oreat lords, from Ireland am I come amain, 
 To signify — that rebels there are up, 
 And put the Englishmen unto the sword : 
 Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime. 
 Before the wound do grow incurable ; 
 For beinii green, tliere is great hope of help. 
 
 Car. A breach, that craves a quick expedient slop! 
 \\^hat counsel give you in this weighty cause ? 
 
 Yurk. That Somerset be sent as regent thither: 
 'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ d ; 
 Witness the tortune he hath had in France. 
 
 Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy. 
 Had been the regent there instead of me, 
 He never would iiave staid in France so long. 
 
 York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done : 
 I ratiier would have lost my life betimes. 
 Than bring a burden of dishonour home, 
 By staying there so long, till all were lost. 
 Sliew uie one scar character'd on thy skin : 
 Men's llesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win. 
 
 Q. Alar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging 
 fire, 
 ' If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with : — 
 No mure, good York; — sweet Somerset, be still; — 
 Thy fortune. York, hadst thou been regent there, 
 Might happily have prov'd far worse than his. 
 
 York. Wliat, worse than naught? nay, then a 
 sh>ime take all ! 
 
 Soin. And, in the number, thee, that wiskest 
 shame I 
 
 Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. 
 Tlie uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms. 
 And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : 
 To Ireland will you lead a band of men, 
 Collected choicely, from each county some, 
 And trv your hap against the Irishmen? 
 
 York. 1 uill, my lord, so please his majesty. 
 
 Suf. Why. our authority is his consent ; 
 A nd, what we do establish, he confirms : 
 Taen, noble York, take tliou this task in hand. 
 
 York. I am content : Provide me soldiers, lords. 
 Whiles I take order for mine own alfairs. 
 
 Suf. A charge, lord York, that 1 will see perform'd. 
 But now return we to the false duke Humphrey. 
 
 Car. No more o( him ; for I will deal with him. 
 That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more. 
 And so break off; the day is almost spent: 
 Lord Sutfolk, you and I must talk of tliat event. 
 
 York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days, 
 At Bristol I expect my soldiers ; 
 For there I'll snip them all for Ireland. 
 
 Suf I'll see it tnily done, mv lord of York. 
 
 [Exeunt all but York. 
 
 York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearfuJ 
 
 thought. 
 And change misdoubt to resolution : 
 Be that thou hop'st to be ; or what thou art 
 Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying: 
 Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-bom man. 
 And find no harbour in a royal heart. 
 Faster than spring time showers, comes thought 
 on (hou^ht; ' 
 
 And not a thought, but thinks on dignity. 
 My brain, more busy than the labouring spider. 
 Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. 
 Well, nobles, well , 'tis politicly done. 
 To send me packing with an host of men : 
 I fear me, you but warm the starved snake. 
 Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your 
 
 hearts. 
 'Twas men I lack'd, and yon will give them me : 
 I take it kindly ; yet, be well assur'd 
 You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands 
 Whiles I in Irelana nourish a mighty band, 
 i^ will stir up in England some black storm, 
 Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell : 
 And this fell temi)est shall not cease to rage 
 Until the golden circuit on my head. 
 Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams. 
 Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. 
 And, for a minister of my intent, 
 I have seduc'da headstrong Kentishman, 
 John Cade of Ashford, 
 To make commotion, as full well he can. 
 Under the title of John Mortimer. 
 In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 
 Oppose himself against a troop of Kernes ; 
 And fought so long, till that his thighs with dart* 
 Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porcupine: 
 And, in the end being rescn'd, I have seen him 
 Caper upright like a wild Morisco, 
 Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. 
 Fidl often, like a shaghair'd crafty Kerne, 
 Hath he conversed with the enemy ; 
 And undiscover'd come to me again. 
 And given me notice of their villanies. 
 This devil here shall be my substitute; 
 For that John Mortimer, which now is dead. 
 In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 
 By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 
 How they affect the house and claim of York. 
 Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured ; 
 I know no pain they can inflict upon hiui, 
 Will make him say — I mov'd him to those arras. 
 Say, that he thrive (as 'tis great like he will,) 
 Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength. 
 And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd : 
 For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be. 
 And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — Bury. A Room in the Palace 
 
 Enter certain Murderers, hastily. 
 
 \ Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk ; let him know. 
 We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded. 
 
 2 Mur. O, that it were to do ! — What have we 
 done ? " 
 Didst ever hear a man so penitent ? 
 
 Enter Suffolk. 
 
 1 Mtir. Here comes my lord 
 
 Suf. Now, sirs, have yon 
 
 Despatch'd this thing ? 
 
 1 Mur. Ah, my good lord, he's dead. 
 
 Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my 
 house ; 
 I will reward you for this venturous deed. 
 The king and all the peers are here at hand. — 
 Have you laid fair the bed ? are all things well, 
 According as I gave direction ? 
 
 1 Mur. 'Tis, my good lord. 
 
 Suf. Away, be gone I [Exeunt Murderert^ 
 
426 
 
 SECOND PART OP 
 
 Act Ilf. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Queen Margauet, Cardinal 
 Beacfort, Somerset, Lords, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence 
 straight : 
 Say, we intend to try his grace to-day. 
 If he lie guilty, as 'tis published. 
 
 Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. Lords, take your places ; — And I pray 
 you all. 
 Proceed no slraiter 'gainst our uncle Clloster, 
 Than from true evidence, of good esteem. 
 He be approv'd in j)ractice culpable. 
 
 Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should prevail, 
 Tliat faultless may condemn -a nobleman ! 
 Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion ! 
 
 K. Hen. I tliank. thee, Margaret; these words 
 content me much. — 
 
 Re-enter Suffolk. 
 
 How now? why look'st thou pale ? why tremblest 
 
 thou ? 
 Where is our uncle ? what is the matter, Suffolk ? 
 Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord ; Gloster is dead. 
 Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend ! 
 Car. God's secret judgment ; — I did dream to- 
 night. 
 The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. 
 
 {The King swoons.) 
 Q. Mar. How fares my lord V — Help, lords 1 tlie 
 
 king is dead. 
 Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. 
 Q.Mar. Run, go, help, help!— O, Henry, ope 
 
 thine eyes ! 
 Suf. He doth revive again; — Madam, be patient. 
 K. Hen. O heavenly God ! 
 Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord ? 
 Suf. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious Henry, 
 
 comfort ! 
 K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? 
 Came he right now to sing a raven's note. 
 Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ; 
 And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren. 
 By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
 Can chase away the first-conceived sound? 
 Hide not thy poison with such sngard words. 
 Lay not hands on me ; forbear, 1 say ; 
 Tlieir touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting. 
 Thou baleful messenger, out of my siglit! 
 Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyramiy 
 Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 
 Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding: — 
 Vet do not go away ;— Come, basilisk, , 
 
 .4nd kill the innocent gazer with thy sight: 
 For in the shade of death I shall find joy ; 
 In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? 
 Although the duke was enemy to him, 
 Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death : 
 And for myself, — foe as he was to me. 
 Might liquid tears, or heart offending groans. 
 Or blood consuming sighs recall his life, 
 I would be blind with weeping, sick yvidi groans, 
 Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking sighs. 
 And all to have the noble duke alive. 
 What know 1 how the world may deem of me? 
 For it is known, we were but hollow friends ; 
 It may be judg'd, I made the duke away: 
 So shall my niime with slander's tongue be wounded. 
 And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach. 
 This get F hy his death : Ah me, unhappy ! 
 To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy ! 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, woe is me forGloster,wretclied man ! 
 (J Mfir. Be woe for me, more wretched tiian he is. 
 What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy lace ? 
 I am no loatlisonip leper, look on me. 
 What, art tlioii, like the adder, waxen deaf? 
 Be poisonous too. and kill thy forlorn ((ueen. 
 Is all thy comfort shut iu Gloster's tomb ? 
 
 Why, then dame JVirtrgaret was ne'er thy joy : 
 Erect his statue then, and worship it, 
 And make my image but an alehouse sign. 
 Was 1, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea , 
 And twice by awkward wind from England's bank 
 Drove back again unto my native clime ? 
 What boded this, but well forewarning wind 
 Did seem to say, — Seek not a scorpion's nest, 
 Nor set no looting on this unkind shore? 
 What did 1 tlien, but curs'd the gentle gusts, 
 ."^nd he that loos"d them from their brazen caves ; 
 And bid them blow towards England's blessed 
 
 siiores. 
 Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ? 
 Yet ^olus would not be a murderer. 
 But lelt tiiat hateful office unto thee : 
 The pretty \ anlting sea refus'd to drown me ; 
 Knowing, that thou would'st have me drown'd on 
 
 shore. 
 With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness ; 
 The splitting rocks cow'rd in the sinking sands. 
 And would not dash me witii their ragged sides; 
 Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, 
 Might in thy |)alace perish Margaret. 
 As far as 1 could ken thy chalky cliffs. 
 When from the shore the tempest beat us back, 
 I stood upon the hatches in the storm : 
 And when the dusky sky began to rob 
 My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, 
 I took a costly jewel from my neck, — 
 A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, — 
 And threw it towards thy land ; — the sea receiv'd it; 
 And so, I wish'd. thy body might my heart: 
 And even with this, I lost lair England's < iew, 
 And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart: 
 And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles. 
 For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. 
 How often have I tempted Suftblk's tongue 
 ('J'he agent of thy foul inconstancy,] 
 To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did. 
 When he to madding Dido would unfold 
 His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy? 
 Ami not witcird like her? or thou not false like him? 
 Ah me, I can no more I Die, Margaret ! 
 For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. 
 
 Noise within. Enter Warwick and Salisbury. 
 The Commons press to the door. 
 
 War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, 
 That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd 
 By Suft'olk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. 
 'I'lie commons, like an angry hive of bees, 
 That want their leader, scatter np and down, 
 And care not who they sting in his revenge. 
 Myself have calm'd their spleenful nuitiny, 
 Until they hear the order of his death. 
 
 K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'ti 
 too true ; 
 But how he died, God knows, not Henry: 
 Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse. 
 And comment then upon his sudden death. 
 
 War. That I shall do, my liege : — Slay, Salisbury 
 With the rude iiuilti-tude, till I return. 
 
 [Wartviclc goes ifito an inner room, and Salis 
 bury retires. 
 
 K. Hen. O thou, that judgest all things, stay my 
 thoughts ; 
 My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soiiJ, 
 Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life ! 
 If my suspect be false, forgive me, God; 
 For judgment only doth belong {o thee! 
 Fitin would I go to chafe his paly lips 
 With tvventy thousand kisses, and to drain 
 Upon his face an ocean of .suit tears; 
 To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, 
 And with my fingers feel his hand unteeliug; 
 But all in vain are these mean obsequies; 
 And to survey his dead and earthly image, 
 Whiit were it but to make my sorrow greater? 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 427 
 
 The folding doors of an inner chamher are thrown 
 open, and Glos tek is discovered dead in his 
 bed: Vv arvmck and others standing by ii. 
 
 Wat Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this 
 body. 
 
 K. Hen. That is to see liow deep my grave is made : 
 For, with his soul, fled ail tiiy worldly solace ; 
 For seeing him, I see my life in death. 
 
 War. As surely as my soul intends to live 
 Willi that dread King, that took our state upon him, 
 To free us from liis Father's wrathful curse, 
 I do believe, that violent hands were laid 
 IJjxin the life of this (hrice-famed duke. 
 
 Svf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue ! 
 What instance gives lord Wavwi(^k for his vow? 
 
 War. Sf e, how the blood is settled in his face ! — 
 Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost. 
 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless. 
 Being all descended to the labouring heart ; 
 Who, in the conflict that it holds with death. 
 Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ; 
 Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er re- 
 
 turneth 
 To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
 But, see, his face is black, and full of blood; 
 His eye-balls farther out than when he liv'd. 
 Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : 
 His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with strug- 
 gling; 
 His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd 
 And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. 
 Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; 
 His well-proportioned beard made rough and 
 
 rugged, 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
 It cannot be, but he was miirder'd here ; 
 The least of all these signs were probable. 
 
 Suf. Why,' Warwick, who should do the duke 
 to death ? 
 Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection; 
 And we, ( hope, sir, are no miirderers. 
 
 Tf'ar. But both of you were vow'd duke Hum- 
 phrey's foes ; 
 And yon, forsooth, had the good duke to keep: 
 "I'is like, you would not feast him like a friend ; 
 And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. 
 
 Q. Mar. Then you, behke, suspect these noblemen 
 As UMiilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death. 
 
 War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding 
 fresh. 
 And sres fast by a butcher with an axe. 
 But wifl suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter ? 
 Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest. 
 But may imagine how the bird was dead, 
 Altlioiigh the kite soar with unbloodied beak? 
 Evt-n so suspicious is this tragedy. 
 
 Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk? where's 
 your knife ? 
 fs Bfaufort term'd a kite ? where are his talons ? 
 
 Sicf. I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men ; 
 But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, 
 'I'hiit sliall be scoured in his rancorous heart, 
 Tlmt slanders me with murder's crimson badge: — 
 Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, 
 That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. 
 
 [Exeunt Cardinal, Sam., and others. 
 
 iVar. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk 
 dare him ? 
 
 Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit. 
 Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, 
 Thniigh .Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. 
 
 I !'ar. Madam, be still ; with reverence may I say; 
 For every word you speak in his behalf^ 
 ■ Is slander to your royal dignity. 
 
 Siif. Blunt- witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! 
 Ft' ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, 
 Tliy mother took into her blnmeful bed 
 S.)me stern uuttltor'd churl, and noble stock 
 Was graft ^ith crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art. 
 
 And never of the Nevils' noble race. 
 
 War. But that the guilt ofmurder bucklers the*. 
 And I sliould rob the dealhsman of his fee, 
 Quitting thee thereby often thousand shames. 
 And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, 
 I would, false murderous coward, on tiiy knee 
 Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, 
 And say — it was thy mother, that thou mean'st. 
 That thou thyself was born in bastardy ; 
 And after all this fearful homage done. 
 Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, 
 Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men ! 
 
 Suf. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, 
 If from this presence thou dar'st go with me. 
 
 War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence : 
 Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee. 
 And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. 
 
 [Exeunt Suffolk and Wanvich. 
 
 K. Hen. VVhat stronger breastplate than a hearl 
 untainted ? 
 Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel .just; 
 And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 
 
 {A noise tvithin.) 
 
 Q. Mar. What noise is this ? 
 
 Re-enter Suffolk a7id WARmcK, tvith their 
 weapons drawn. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, how now, lords ? your wrathfu8 
 weapons drawn 
 Here in our presence 'f dare you be so bold? — 
 Why, what tuinultuous clamour have we here? 
 ^ Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of 
 Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. [Bury, 
 
 Noise of crowd ivithin. Re-enter Salisbury. 
 
 Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your 
 mind. — (Speaking to those ivithin. 
 
 Dread lord, the commons send you word by me. 
 Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death, 
 Or banished fair England's territories. 
 They will by violence tear him from j'our jjalace 
 And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. ,, 
 
 They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died; 
 They say, in him they fear your highness' death : 
 And mere instinct of love, and loyalty. 
 Free from a stubborn opposite intent. 
 
 As being thought to contradict your liking, 
 
 Makes them thus forward in his banishment. 
 'I'iiey say, in care of your most royal person. 
 That, if your highness shoidd intend to sleep. 
 And charge — that no man should distinb your rest. 
 In pain of your dislike, or pain of death; 
 Vet notwithstanding such a strait edict. 
 Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongae. 
 That slily glided towards your majesty. 
 It were but necessary, you were wak'd ; 
 Lest, being suffer'd in tlrat harmful slumber. 
 The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal: 
 And therefore do they cry, though you forbid. 
 That they will guard you whe'r you will, or do. 
 From such fell serpents as false Sufl'olk is: 
 With whose envenomed and fatal sting, 
 Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth. 
 They say, is shamefully bereft of life. 
 
 Commons. {fVithin.'\ An answer from the king, 
 my loid of Salisbury. 
 
 Suf. 'J'ls like, the connnons, rude unpolish'd 
 hinds. 
 Could send such messager to their sovereign : 
 But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, 
 'J'o shew how quaint an orator you are . 
 But all the honour Salisbury hath won, 
 Is — that he was the lord ainbassador. 
 Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. 
 
 Commons. [Within.) An answer from the king, 
 OP we'll all break in. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, anil tell them all from me, 
 I tliank them for their tender loving care ; 
 And had I not been 'cited so by them, 
 
428 
 
 SECOND PART OP 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Vetdid I purpose as they so entreat; 
 l'Vr.«iire, my tlioughta do lioiirly prophesy 
 Mi8<"hance unto my stale by Suffolk's means. 
 And therefore — by His majesty I swear, 
 Whose far unworthy deputy I am, — 
 He shall not breathi? infection in this air 
 tJut three days longer, on the pain of death. 
 
 [Exit Salisbury. 
 
 Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk ! 
 
 K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle 
 Suffolk. 
 No more, I say ; if thou dost plead for him. 
 Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. 
 Had I but said, I would have kept my word ; 
 But, wiien I swear, it is irre\ocable: 
 If, after three days space, thou here be'st found 
 On any ground that I am ruler of. 
 The world sliall not be ransome for thy life. — 
 Couie, Warwick, come, pood Warwick, go with me ; 
 { ha\e great matters to impart to thee. 
 
 [E-veunt K. Henry, If arwick. Lords, §('c. 
 
 Q. Mar. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with 
 Heart's discontent, and sour afHiction, [you ! 
 
 He playfellows to keep you company ! 
 There's two of you; the devil make a third ! 
 And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps ! 
 
 Siif. Cease, s^entle queen, these execrations. 
 And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 
 
 Q. Mar. Fye, coward woman, and soft-hearted 
 wretch ! 
 Hast tiioti not spirit to curse thine enemies ? 
 
 Siif. A plague upon them ! wherefore should I 
 curse them ';* 
 Would curses kill, as dotli the mandrake's groan, 
 I would invent as bilter-searching terms, 
 As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, 
 Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth. 
 With lull as many signs of deadly hate. 
 As lean fac'd Eniy in her loathsome cave: 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; 
 Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; 
 My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ; 
 Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban : 
 And even now my burden'd heart would break. 
 Should i not cui-se them. Poison be their drink I 
 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiestt that they taste ! 
 Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees! 
 Their chiefest prospects, murdering basilisks ! 
 Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings ! 
 Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss; 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! 
 All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell. — 
 
 Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk ; thou torment'st 
 thyself: 
 4.nd these dread curses — like the sim 'gainst glass. 
 Or like an overcharged gun, — recoil. 
 And tin-n the force of them upon thyself. 
 
 Siif. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave ? 
 Now, by the ground that 1 am banish'd from. 
 Well coidd I curse away a winter's night, 
 Though standing naked on a mountain top. 
 Where biting cold would never let grass grow. 
 And think it but a minute s|ient iu sport. 
 
 Q. Mar. O, let me entreat thee, cease I Give me 
 thy hand, 
 That I may dew it with my mournful tears; . 
 Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, 
 'J^o wash away my woeful monuments. 
 O, could this kiss be printed iu thy hand : 
 
 (Kisses his hand.) 
 That thou might'st think upon these by the seal. 
 Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for 
 
 thee! 
 So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief: 
 'Tis but surinisd whilst thou art standing by. 
 As one that surfeits thinking on a want. 
 1 will repeal thee, or, be well assured. 
 Adventure to be banished myself: 
 And banished I am, if but from thee. 
 Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 
 
 O, go not yet I — Even thus two frienda, condemn'd. 
 Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
 lioather a hundred times to part than die. 
 Yet now farewell : and farewell life with thee I 
 Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished. 
 Once by the king, and tiiree times thrice by thee. 
 Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence ; 
 A wilderness is populous enough. 
 So Suffolk had thy heavenly company . 
 For where thou art, there is the world itself. 
 With every several pleasure in the world; 
 And where thou art not, desolation. 
 I can no more : — Live thou to joy thy life , 
 Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st. 
 
 Enter Vaux. 
 
 Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, 
 
 Ipr'ythee? 
 Vaux. To signify unto his majesty, 
 That Cardinal Heaufort is at point of death 
 For suddenly a grievous sickness took him. 
 That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air. 
 Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. 
 Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost 
 Were by his side ; sometime, he calls the king. 
 And whispers to his pillow, as to him, 
 Tlie secrets of his overcharged soul: 
 And I am sent to fell his majesty, 
 That even now he cries aloud for him. 
 
 Q. Mar. Go, tell this heavy message to the king. 
 
 [Exit Vaux. 
 Ah me I what is this world ? what news aie these ":" 
 But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss. 
 Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? 
 Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, 
 And with the southern clouds contend in tears ; 
 Tiieirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows"' 
 Now, get tliee hence: The king, thou k(niw'st, 
 
 is coming ! 
 If thou be foimd by me, thou art but dead. 
 
 Suf. It' I depart from thee, I cannot live : 
 And in thy sight to die, what were it else 
 But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 
 Here could I breathe my soul into the air. 
 As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe. 
 Dying with mother's dugs between bis lips : 
 VVheie, from thy sight, I should be raging mad. 
 And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, 
 To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth ; 
 Sn shouid'st thou either turn my flyino; soul. 
 Or I shoidd breathe it so into thy body. 
 And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. 
 'I'o die by thee, were but to die in jest : 
 From thee to die, were torture more than death : 
 O, let me stay, befall what may befall. 
 
 Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful cor- 
 rosive. 
 It is applied to a deathfnl wound. 
 To France, sweet Suffolk : Let me hear from thee ; 
 For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe, 
 I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. 
 
 Suf. I go. 
 
 Q. Mm: And take my heart with thee. 
 
 Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful'st cask 
 That ever did contain a thing of worth. 
 Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we ; 
 This way fall I to death. 
 
 Q. Mar. This way for me. [Exeunt, severally. 
 
 Scene III. — London. Cardinal Beaufort's bed- 
 chamber. 
 Enter King Henry, Salisbury, Warwick, and 
 
 others. The Cardinal in bed : Attendants ivith 
 
 him. 
 
 K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, , 
 to thy sovereign. (trt-asure, 
 
 Car. If tlioii be'st death, I'll give thee England's 
 Enough to |)inchase such another island. 
 So thdu wilt let nie live, and feel uo pain. 
 
 K. Hen. All. what a sign it is of evi'i life. 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 429 
 
 TiHien death's approach is seen so terrible I 
 
 War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. 
 
 Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
 D.t-ii he uot 111 Ins bed V vviicre .should he die? 
 Uau 1 make men Ine, whe'r they will or no ?— 
 01 torture nie no more, I will confess. — 
 Alive again :" then shew Ine where he is; 
 I'll give a thousand poiuid to look upon him. — 
 He hath no eyes, the dust hath Wlinded them. — 
 Comb down his hair; look ! look ! it .stands npnuiit. 
 Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! — 
 Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
 Bring the strong poison that 1 bought of him. 
 
 K. Hen. O tium eternal Rlover of the heavens. 
 Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
 O. beat away the busy meddliog fiend, 
 TLat lays strong siege unto this wretcii's soul, 
 And fium his bosom purge this black despair ! 
 
 fVar. See, how the pangs of death do make him 
 grin. 
 
 Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good plea- 
 sure be. 
 Lord cardinal, if thou tiiink'ston heaven's bliss, 
 Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — 
 He dies, and makes no sign; O God, forgive him I 
 
 Tf'ar. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
 
 K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. — 
 Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close,; 
 And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene L — Kent, The Sea-shore near Dover. 
 
 Firing heard at sea. Then enter from a boat, a 
 Captain, a Master, a Mastcr's-Mate, Walter 
 VVhitmore, and others ; ivith them Suffolk, 
 and other Gentlemen, prisoners. 
 
 Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day 
 Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; 
 And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades, 
 That drag the tragic melancholy night; 
 Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings, 
 Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
 Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
 Thirefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize ; 
 For, wiiilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, 
 Here shall they make their ransom on the sand. 
 Or with their blood stain this discolonr'd shore. — 
 Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ; 
 And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; — 
 The other, {pointing to Suffolk) Walter Wliitmore, 
 
 is thy share. 
 1 Gent. What is my ransome, ma.ster ? let me 
 
 know. 
 Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your 
 
 head. 
 Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes 
 
 yours. 
 Cap. What, think yon much to pay two thousand 
 
 crowns, 
 And bear the name and port of gentlemen ? 
 Cut both the villains' throats ; — for die you shall ; 
 'iPlje lives of those, which we have lost in fight, 
 Cizsiot be rounterpois'd with such a petty sum. 
 
 1 Gent I'll give it, sir ; and therefore spare my 
 
 life. [straight. 
 
 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it 
 Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard. 
 
 And therefore, to revenge it, shalt tiioii die ; 
 
 (To Suffolk.) 
 And so should these, if I might have my will. 
 
 Cap. lie not so rash; take ransome, let him live. 
 
 S^f, Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; 
 Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. 
 
 Whit. And so am I ; niy name is — Waiter VVhit- 
 
 niore. [atfright ? 
 
 How now ? why starfst thou ? what, doth death 
 
 St^f. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is 
 V cnnning man did calculate my birtJi, [deatli. 
 
 And told me — that by Waller I should die : 
 Yet let not this make thee he bloody-minded: 
 Thy name is — Ganilii-r, being rightly soundei 
 
 Whit. Gaultier. •" Walter, which ft is. I care not 
 Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name. 
 But with our swo o ue wip'd away the blot; 
 Therefore, when iuerihant-hke I sell revenge. 
 Broke be my swo il, my arms torn and defac'd. 
 And I proclaim'd a coward tlnousih tiie world ! 
 
 ( Lays hold on Suffolk.) 
 
 Snf. Stav, Whitinore ; for thy jirisoneris a prince. 
 The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole. 
 
 Whit. '1 I If duke of SiiUblk, muffled iij) in rags! 
 
 Siif. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke ; 
 Jove sometime went di.sguis'd. and why not I ? 
 
 Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. 
 
 Suf. Obscure and lowly swain. King Henry's 
 The lionourable blood of Lancaster, [blood, 
 
 Must not be slied by such a jaded groom. 
 Hast thou not kissVl thy hand, and held my stirrup? 
 Bare-headed plodded by my toot cloth mule. 
 And thought thee happy when I shook my head ? 
 How often hast liiou waited at my cup. 
 Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board. 
 When 1 have feasted with queen Margaret? 
 Remember it, and let it make thes crest fall'n ; 
 Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride: 
 How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood. 
 And duly waited for my coming forth i 
 This hand of nyne hath writ in thy behalf. 
 And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. 
 
 Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab tie forlorn 
 swain ? 
 
 Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath me. 
 
 Suf. Base slave ! thy words are blunt, and so art 
 thou. 
 
 Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's 
 side 
 Strike off his head. 
 
 Snf. Thou dar'st not for thy own. 
 
 Cap. Yes, Poole 
 
 Suf Poole ? 
 
 Cap. Poole ? Sir Poole ? lord ? 
 
 Ay, kennel, puddle, sink: whose filth and dirt 
 Troubles the silver spring wnere England drinks. 
 Now will I dam up tills thy yawning mouth. 
 For swallowing the treasure of the realm : 
 Tliy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the 
 
 ground ; 
 And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humprey's 
 
 death. 
 Against tlie senseless winds shalt grin in vain, 
 Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again : 
 And wedded be thou to the hags of hell. 
 For daring to alfy a mighty lord 
 Unto the daughter of a worthless king. 
 Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. 
 •By devilish policy art thou grown great, 
 And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd 
 With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. 
 By thee. Anjou and Maine were sold to France. 
 The false revolting Normans, thorough thee. 
 Disdain to call us lord ; and Picardy 
 Hath slain their governors, snrpris'd our forts. 
 And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. 
 The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, — 
 VV^hose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,— 
 As hating thee, are rising up in arms : 
 And now the house of York — thrust from the crown, 
 By shameful murder of a guiltless king 
 And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, — 
 Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours 
 Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, 
 Under the which is writ — Invitis tntbibus. 
 The commons here in Kent are up in arms 
 And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary. 
 Is crept into the palace of our king. 
 And ail by thee : — Av/ay ! convey him hence. 
 
 Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder 
 Upon these paltry, servile abject drudge* ! 
 
430 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Small things make base men proud : tliis villain here, 
 
 Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more 
 
 Than Bargains, the strong Illyrian pirate. 
 
 Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. 
 
 (t is impossible, that I should die 
 
 By sucFi a lowly vassal as thyself. 
 
 1 ny words move rage, and not remorse, in me : 
 
 I go of message from the queen to France ; 
 
 I charge thee, vvaft me safely cross the channel. 
 
 Can. Walter, [death. 
 
 Wtiit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy 
 
 Suf. Gelldus timor occupal artus : — 'tis thee I 
 fear. 
 
 Whit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I 
 leave thee. 
 What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 
 
 1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak 
 him fair. 
 
 Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, 
 Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. 
 Far be it, we should honour such as these 
 With humble suit: no, rather let my head 
 Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any. 
 Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; 
 And sooner dance upon a bloody pole. 
 Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. 
 True nobility is exempt from fear : — 
 More can I bear, than you dare execute. 
 
 Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. 
 
 Sttf. Come, soldiers, shew what sruelty ye can. 
 That this my death may never be forgot! 
 Great men oft die by vile bezonians : 
 A Roman sworder and banditto slave, 
 Murder'd sweet Tuily ; Brutus' bastard hand 
 Stabb'd Julius Csesar ; savage islanders, 
 Pompey the great : and Suffolk dies by pirates. 
 
 [Exit Suf. with Whit, and others. 
 
 Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set, 
 rt is our pleasure, one of them depart: — 
 Therefore come you with us, and let him go. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the first Gentleman. 
 
 Re-enter WhiTxVIORE, ivith Suffolk's body. 
 
 Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie. 
 Until the queen, his mistress, bury it. [Exit. 
 
 1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody spectacle ! 
 His body will I bear unto the king : 
 If he revenge it not, yet will his friends: 
 Sj will the queen, that living held him dear. 
 
 [Exit tvitk the body. 
 
 Scene II. — Blackheath. 
 
 Enter George Bevis and John Holland. 
 
 Geo. Come, and get tiiee a sword, though made 
 of a lath ; they have been up these two days. 
 
 John. They have the more need to sleep now then. 
 
 Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade, the clothier, means 
 to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a 
 new nap upon it. 
 
 John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, 
 £ say, it was never merry world in England, since 
 gentlemen came up. 
 
 Geo. O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded in 
 handicrafts-men. 
 
 John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather 
 aprons. 
 
 Geo. Nay more, the king's council are no good 
 workmen. 
 
 John. True : And yet it is said, — Labour in thy 
 Vocation : which is as much to say, as, — let the ma- 
 gistrates be labouring men ; and therefore should we 
 be m«>ristrates. 
 
 Geo. Thnu hast hit it: for there's no better sign 
 of u brave mind than a hard hand. 
 
 John. I see them ! 1 see them ! There's Best's 
 son, the tanner of Wingham ; — 
 
 Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies, to 
 make dog's leather of. 
 
 John. And Di(;k the butcher,— 
 
 Geo. 'P"'cn .3 b.H struck down like an ox, and ini 
 
 qnify's throat cut like a ca!f. 
 John. And Smith the weaver. 
 Geo. Arrjo. their thread of life is spoa 
 John. Come, come, let's fall in witli tiiena. 
 
 Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the butcher. Sjiith tkt 
 iveaver, and others in great number. 
 
 Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our supposed 
 father. — 
 
 Dick. Or ratlier, of stealing a cade of herrings. 
 
 {Aside.} 
 
 Cade. — for our enemies shall fall belbre ns 
 inspired with the spirit of putting down kings an 
 princes. — Connnand silence. 
 
 Dick. Silence ! 
 
 Cade. My father was a Mortimer. — 
 
 Dick. He was an honest man, and a good brick- 
 layer. [Aside.] 
 
 Cade. My mother a Plantagenet. — 
 
 Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies. — 
 
 Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and 
 sold many laces. [Aside.) 
 
 Smith. But, now of late, notable to tra\el with 
 her iurred pack, she washes bucks here at liunie. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. 
 
 Dick. Ay, by my I'aith, the field is honourable; 
 and there was he born, under a hedge ; for his father 
 had never a house, but the cage. [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. Valiant I am. 
 
 Smith. 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. I am able to endure much. 
 
 Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him 
 whi| ped three market days tugetlier. [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. I fear neitlicr sword nor fire. 
 
 Smith. He need notfear the sword, for his coat 
 is ol proof. [Aside.) 
 
 Dick. But, methinks, he should stand in tear oi 
 fire, being burnt i"the hand for .stealing of sheep. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Cade. Be brave then: fur your captain is brave, 
 and vows reformation. There sliall be, in Eiigl.ind, 
 seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny ; the three- 
 hooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it 
 felony to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in 
 common, and in Cheapside shall my | ali'ry go to 
 grass. And when I am king, (as king I will bej — 
 
 All. God save your majesty ! 
 
 Cade. I thank you, good people : — there shall be 
 no money ; all shall eat and drink on my score ; and 
 I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may 
 agree like brothers, and worship me their lord. 
 
 Dick. The first thing we do, let's kill all the 
 lawyers. 
 
 Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a 
 lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent 
 iamb should be made parchment? that parchment, 
 being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some 
 say, the bee stings: But 1 say, 'tis the bee's wax, 
 for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never 
 mine own man since. How now ? who's there .■" 
 
 Enter some, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham. 
 
 Smith. The clerk of Chatham : he can write ani^ 
 read, and cast accomjit. 
 
 Cade. O monstrous! 
 
 Smith. We took him setting of boy's copies. 
 
 Cade. Here's a villain I (in"t. 
 
 Smith. H'as a book in his pocket, with red letters 
 
 Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer. 
 
 Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and write 
 court-hand. 
 
 Cade. 1 am sorry for't : the man is a proper man, 
 on mine honour, unle.ss 1 find him guilty, lie shall 
 not die. — Come hither, sirrah, 1 must exenunt2 
 thee : What is thy name ? 
 
 Clerk. Emmanuel. 
 
SCKNE 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 431 
 
 ftick. They nse to write it on the top of letters ; 
 
 '1 will go hard with yoii. 
 
 Cade. Let me alone : — Dost thou use to write 
 thy iiaiiieV or li;ist thou a iiurk fo tiiyself., like an 
 honest piain-dealinf;- man? 
 
 Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I iiave been so well 
 broiiKht np, that I can write my name. 
 
 All. He hath coni'essed : avvay with him; he's a 
 villain, and a traitor. 
 
 Cade. Away wit!) him, I say: hang him with his 
 pen and inkhorn about his neck. 
 
 [Exeunt some with the Cleric. 
 
 Enter Michael. 
 
 Mich. Where's our general '? 
 
 Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. 
 
 Mich. Fly, fly, llyl sir Humphrey Statford and 
 his brother are hard by, with tlie king's forces. 
 
 Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down : 
 He shall be encountered with a man as good as 
 himself: He is but a knight, is 'a? 
 
 Mich. No. 
 
 Cade. To equal him, T will m-ike myself a knight 
 presently; Rise up, sir John JMortimer. Now have 
 at him. 
 
 Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford, and William 
 his brother, ivith drum atid Forces. 
 
 Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, 
 jMark d for the gallows, — lay your weapons down. 
 Home to your cottages, forsake this groom ; — 
 The king is merciful, if you re\olt. (blood, 
 
 fV. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to 
 If you go forward : therefore yield, or die. [not; 
 
 Cade. As for these silken coated slaves, I j)ass 
 It is to you, good people, that I speak, 
 O'er whom, in time to come, I hojie fo reign ; 
 For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 
 
 Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer; 
 And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? 
 
 Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 
 
 W. Staf And what of that ? 
 
 Cade. Marry, this : — Edmund Mortimer, earl of 
 March, 
 Married the duke of Clarence' daughter ; Did he 
 not? 
 
 W. Staf Ay, sir. 
 
 Cade. By her, he had two children at a birth. 
 
 W. Staf That's false. _ [true : 
 
 Cade. Ay, there's the question ; but, I say, 'tis 
 The elder of them, being put to nurse. 
 Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ; 
 And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, 
 Became a bricklayer, when he came to age : 
 His son am I ; deny it, if you can. 
 
 Dick. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall ba 
 king. 
 
 Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's 
 10 nse, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify 
 t ; therefore, deny it not. 
 
 Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, 
 riiat speaks he knows not what? 
 
 All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye gone. 
 
 W. Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath 
 taught you this. 
 
 Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. (Aside.) 
 —Go to, sirrah, Tell the king from me, that — for 
 his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time 
 lioys went to span-counter for French crowns, — I 
 iitu content he shall reign, but I'll be protector over 
 him. 
 
 Diclc. And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say's 
 hi-ad, for selling the dukedom of Maine. 
 
 Cade. And good reason; for thereby is England 
 iiiaiined, and fain to go with a stafl", but that my 
 puissance holds it np. Fellow kings, I tell you, 
 uiat that lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth, 
 liiid made it an eunoch : and more than that, he can 
 speak French, aod therefore he is a traitor. 
 
 Staf O gross and miserable ignorance i 
 
 Cade. Nay, answer, if yon can : The Frenchmen 
 are our enemies : go to (lien, 1 ask but flus ; Can 
 he, that speaks with the tongue of an enemy, he a 
 good counsellor, or no? 
 
 All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. 
 
 W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not pre- 
 vail. 
 Assail them with an army of fhe king. 
 
 Staf Herald, away: and throtighout every town. 
 Proclaim Ih&tn traitors that are up with Cade; 
 That those, which fly before fhe battle ends. 
 May, even in their wives' and children's sight, 
 Be hang'd up for example at their doors : — 
 And you, that be the king's friends, follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt the two Stajfords, and Forces 
 
 Cade. And you, that love tlie comnmns, follow 
 me. — 
 Now shew yourselves men, 'tis for liberty. 
 We will not leave one lord, one gentleman : 
 Spare none, hut such as go in clouted shoon; 
 For fhey are thrifty honest men, and such 
 As would (but that the.y dare not) take our parts. 
 
 Diclc. Tliey are all in order, and march toward us. 
 
 Cade. But then are we in order, when we are 
 most out of" ordf r. Come, niarcli forward. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III.— Another part of Blackhenlh. 
 
 Alarums. The two parties enter andfr/ht, and 
 
 both the Staffords are slain. 
 
 Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? 
 
 Dick. Here, sir. 
 
 Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, 
 and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in 
 thine own slaughter house : therefore thus will I 
 reward thee, — The Lent shall be as long again as 
 it is; and thou shalt have a license to kill for a 
 hundred larking one. 
 
 Dick. I desire no more. 
 
 Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no less. 
 This monument of the victory will I bear; and the 
 bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels, till I do 
 come fo London, where we will have the mayor's 
 sword borne before us. 
 
 Dick. If we me.-.n to thrive and do good, break 
 open the gaols, and let out the prisoners. 
 
 Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's 
 march towards London. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, reading a supplication; the 
 Duke of Buckingham and Lord .may with him ; 
 atadistance,Queen^lARO.'L'REr, mourniny ovet 
 Suffolk's head. ' 
 
 Q. Mar. Oft have I heard — that grief softens the 
 And makes it fearful and degenerate : [mind, 
 
 Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep. 
 But who can cease to weep, and look on this : 
 Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast; 
 But where 's the body that I should embrace ? 
 
 Buck. What answer makes your grace to the 
 rebels' supplication ? 
 
 K. Hen. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat : 
 For God forbid, so many simple souls 
 Should perish by the sword ! And I myself. 
 Rather than bloody war should cut them short. 
 Will parley with Jack Cade, their general.— 
 But stay, I'll read it over once again, (face 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains ! hath this lovely 
 Ruf<l, like a wandering planet, over me; 
 And could it not enforce them to relent. 
 That were imworthy to behold the same? 
 
 K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to 
 have thy head. 
 
 Say. Ay, but 1 hope, your highness shall have his. 
 
 K. Hen. How now, madam ? Still 
 Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death? 
 I fear, my love, if that I had been dead, 
 Thou wouldst not have monrn'd so much for mo. 
 
 Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, but 
 die for thee. 
 
432 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Enter a ^fessenger■ 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! wliat news ? why com si 
 thou in siicli haste ? [lord ! 
 
 Mess. The rebels are in Southwark ; Fly, my 
 Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, 
 Descended from the duke of Clarence' house ; 
 And calls your grace usurper, openly, 
 And vows to crown himself in Westminster. 
 His army is a ragaed multitude 
 Of hinds aiid peasants, rude and merciless : 
 Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death 
 Hath given them heart and courage to proceed : 
 All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen. 
 They call— false caterpillars, and intend their death. 
 
 A. Heti. O graceless men ! they know not what 
 they do. 
 
 Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth, 
 Until a power be rais'd to put them down. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah ! were the duke of Sulfolk now alive, 
 These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee. 
 Therefore away with us to Kenelworth. 
 
 Say. So might your grace's person be in danger; 
 The sigiit of nic is odious in tiieir eyes : 
 And therefore in this city will I stay, 
 And live alone as secret as 1 may 
 
 Enter another Messemjer. 
 2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge ; 
 the citizens 
 Fly and forsake their honses : 
 The rascal people, thirsting after prey. 
 Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear, 
 To spoil the city, and your royal court. 
 
 Buck. Then linger net, my lord; away, take 
 
 horse. , [succour us. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will 
 
 Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is de- 
 
 ceas'd. 
 K. Hen. Farewell, my lord; [To Lord Say.) 
 
 trust not the Kentish rebels. 
 Buck. Trust no body, for fear you be betray'd. 
 Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, 
 And therefore am I bold and resolute. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. The Tower. 
 
 Enter Lurd Scales, and others, on the ivalls. 
 Then enter certain Citizens, below. 
 
 Scales. Ho\v now? is Jack Cade slain ? 
 
 I Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain ; for 
 they have won the bridge, killing all those that 
 withstand them : The lord mayor craves aid of your 
 honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the 
 rebels. 
 
 Scales. Such aid as 1 can spare, you shall com- 
 mand ; 
 But I am troubled here with them myself. 
 The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. 
 But get you to Smithlield, and gather head. 
 And tliitlier I will send you Matthew Gough : 
 Fight for your king, your country, and your lives ; 
 And so farewell, for 1 must hence again. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — The same. Cannon-street, 
 
 En/er Jack Cade, and his followers. He strikes 
 his staff on London-stone. 
 Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And 
 here, sitting upon London stone, 1 charge and com- 
 mand, that, of the city's cost, the pissingconduit 
 run nothing but claret wine this first year of our 
 reign. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason 
 for any that calls me other than — lord Mortimer. 
 
 Enter a Soldier, running. 
 
 Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! 
 f'a</e- Knock him down there. {They kill him.) 
 Snilh. if this fellow be wise, he'll never call 
 you J;t(k Cade more; 1 think he hatha very fair 
 
 Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered togeth 
 
 ill Siuiihfield. 
 Cade. Come then, let's go fight with thenn : Rut, 
 first, go and set London-bridge on fire ; and, if you 
 can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away. 
 
 [Exeitnt, 
 
 Scene VII. — The same. Smit/ijield. 
 
 Alarum. Enter, on one side. Cade and his com- 
 pany; on the other, Citizens, and the Kinrfs 
 Forces, head'-.d by Matthew Golgii. They 
 Ji(jht, the Citizens are routed, and AlArrnEW 
 GouGU is slain. 
 Cade. So, sirs : — Now, go some and pull down 
 
 the Savoy ; others to the inns of court ; do'vp with 
 
 them all. 
 
 Dick. I have a suit unto your lordshi|). 
 
 Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shall have it for tlia: 
 
 word. 
 Dick. Only, that the laws of England may come 
 
 out of your mouth. 
 
 Joh7i. Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was 
 
 thrast in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not \vhiile 
 
 yet. [Aside) 
 
 Smith. Nay, John, it will be slinking law ; foi 
 
 his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. 
 
 [Aside. 
 Cade- I have thought upon it, it shall be so. 
 
 Away, burn all the records of the realm ; my mouth 
 
 shall be the parliament of England. 
 
 John. Then we are like to have biting statutes, 
 
 unless his teeth be pulled out. (Aside.) 
 
 Cade. Ajid henceforward all thin^.s shall be in 
 
 common. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here's the lord 
 Say, which sold the towns in France ; he that made 
 us pay one-and-twenty fifteens, and one shilling to 
 the pound, the last subsidy. 
 
 Enter George Bevis, ivith the Lord Say. 
 
 Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. 
 — Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram 
 lord ! now art thou within point-blank of our juris- 
 diction regal. What canst thou answer to my ma- 
 jesty, for giving up of Normandy unto monsieur 
 Basimecu, the Dauphin of France / Be it known 
 unto thee by these presence, even the presence of 
 lord Mortimer, that 1 am the besom that must sweep 
 the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast 
 most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm, 
 in erecting a grammar-s.chool • and whereas, before, 
 our forefathers had no other books but the score 
 and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; 
 and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity, 
 thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to 
 thy face, that thou hast men about thee, that usually 
 talk, of a noun, and a verb ; and such abominable 
 words, as no Christian ear can endure to hear. 
 Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor 
 men before them about matters they were not able 
 to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison ; 
 and because they could not read, thou hast hanged 
 them ; when, indeed, only for that cause they have 
 Ijeen most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot 
 cloth, dost thou not? 
 
 Say. What of that? 
 
 Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse 
 wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go io 
 their hose and doublets. 
 
 Dick, And work in their shirt too as myself, foi 
 example, that am a butcher. 
 
 Say. You men of Kent, — 
 
 Dick. What say you of Kent ? 
 
 Say. Nothing but this : 'Tis bona terra, mala gens 
 
 Cade. Away with him, away with him 1 bespeaks 
 Latin. [will. 
 
 Say. Hear me but speak, and bear nie whei'i you 
 I Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, 
 
Scene 8. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 433 
 
 In term'd the eivil'st place of all this isle: 
 Sweet is the country, becairse full of riches ; 
 The people liberal, valia^nt, active, wealtijy ; 
 Which makes me hope yon are not v oid of pity. 
 I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy ; 
 Yet, to recover them, would Inse my life. 
 Justice with favour have I always done ; 
 Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. 
 When have I might exacted at your hands, 
 Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and yon ? 
 Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks. 
 Because my book preferr'd me to the king ; 
 And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
 Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, — 
 Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits. 
 You cannot but forbear to murder me. 
 This tongue hath parley 'd unto foreign kings 
 For your behoof, — 
 
 Cade. Tut ! when strack'st thou one blow in the 
 field ? [struck 
 
 Say. Great men have reaching hands : oft have I 
 Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. 
 
 Geo. O monstrous coward ! what, to come be- 
 hind folks ? [good. 
 
 Say. These cheeks are pale for watching for your 
 
 Cade. Give him a box o'the ear, and that will 
 m^ke 'em red again. 
 
 Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes 
 lliith made me full of sickness and diseases. 
 
 Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and 
 the pap of a hatchet. 
 
 Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man? 
 
 Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me. 
 
 Cade. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should say, 
 I'll be even with you. I'll see if his head will 
 stand steadier on a pole, or no : Take him away, 
 and behead liim. 
 
 Say. Tell nie, wherein I have offended most? 
 Have I affected wealth, or honour: speak ? 
 .\re my chests fill'd up with extorted gold? 
 [s my a[)parel sumptuous to behold? 
 Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death ? 
 These hands are free from guiltless blood shedding, 
 This breast from harbouring foul deceitful tiioughts. 
 (). let me li\e ! 
 
 Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words : 
 bit I'll bridle it ; he shall die, an it be but tor plead- 
 ing so well for his life. Away with him ! he has a 
 lauiiliar under his tongue ; he speaks not o'Qod's 
 name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his 
 head presently ; and then break into his son-in-law's 
 iiouse, sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, 
 and bring them both upon two poles hither. 
 
 All. It shall be done. 
 
 Say. Ah, countrymen! if when you make your 
 prayers, 
 God should be so obdurate as yourselves, 
 How would it fare witii your departed souls? 
 And therefore yet relent, and save my life. 
 
 Cade. Away with him, and do as 1 command ye. 
 [TUxeunt some ivith Lord Say. 
 The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a 
 iiead oil his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; 
 there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay 
 to me her maidenhead ere they have it: Men shall 
 hold of me in capite ; and we charge and command, 
 that thi'ir wives be as free as heart can wish, or 
 (oiis^ue ciin tell. 
 
 Dick. My lord, when sliall we go to Cheapside, 
 and t;ike up commodities upon our bills'/ 
 
 Cade. Alarry, presently. 
 
 All. O brave ' 
 
 Re-etilsr Rebels, with the heads of Lord Say and 
 his Son-in-laio. , 
 
 Cade. But is not this braver? — Let them kiss one 
 another, for tiiey loved well, when they were alive. 
 Now par them again, lest th<-y consult about the 
 giviufj- up of some more towns ii France Soldiers, 
 defer the spoil of the city until night: for with these 
 
 borne before us, instead of maces, will we ride 
 through the streets; and at every corner, have 
 them kiss. — Away ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Soulhwark. 
 Alattan. Enter Cade, ana all his Erlhleinent. 
 Cade. Up Fish street I down .St. ]\]agiius' corner! 
 
 kill and knock dt 
 
 throw them into 'I'hames 1 — 
 
 {A parley sounded, then a retreat.) What n<ii>e is 
 tills I hear'/ dare any be S(j bold to sound letieat or 
 parley, when I command them kill ? 
 
 Enter BociiiNGHAM, and Old Clifford, ivith 
 Forces. 
 
 Buck. Ay, here they be, that dare and will dis- 
 turb thee : 
 Know, Cade, we come ambassadors f'roin the king 
 Unto the commons, whom thou hast misled : 
 -4nd here pronounce free pardon to lliem all, 
 That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 
 
 Clif. What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent. 
 And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offer'd you; 
 Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths? 
 Who loves the king, and will embrace his jiardon. 
 Fling up his cap, and say — God save his majesty" 
 Who hateth him, and honours not his father, 
 Henry the filth, that made all France to (piake, 
 Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by. 
 
 All. Ciod save the king! God sa\e the king! 
 
 Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye 
 so brave? — And you, base peasants, do ye believe 
 him? will you needs be hanged with your pardons 
 about your necks ? Hath iny swcrd therefore broke 
 through London Gates, that ye should lea\e me 
 at the White Hart ia Southwark ? I thought, ye 
 would never have given out these arms, ijll you 
 had recovered your ancient freedom : but you are 
 all .•■( creants, and dastards; and delight to live in 
 slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs 
 with burdens, take your houses over your iieads, 
 ravish your wives and daughters before your laces : 
 For me, — I will make shift for one : and so — God's 
 curse light upon you all ! 
 
 All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade. 
 
 Clif. Is Cade the son of Heniy the fiCtii, 
 That thus you do exclaim — you'll go with him? 
 Will he conduct you through the heart of France^ 
 And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? 
 Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ; 
 Nor knows he how to live, out by the spoil. 
 Unless by robbing of your Iriends, and us. 
 Wer't not a shame, that whilst yon live at jar, 
 The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, 
 Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you ? 
 Methinks, already, in this civil broil, 
 I see them lording it in London streets. 
 Crying — Villageois ! unto all they meet. 
 Better, ten thousand base-born Cades niiscarry. 
 Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. 
 To France, to France, and get what you have lost; 
 Spare England, for it is your native coast : 
 Henry hath money, you are strong and manly : 
 God on our side, doubt notof victory. 
 
 All. A CliO'ord ! a Clifford ! we'll' follow the king; 
 and Clifford. 
 
 Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and 
 fro as this multitude ? the name of Henry the fifth 
 hales them to an hundred inischiefs, and niakos them 
 leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads to- 
 gether, to surprize me : my sword make wiy for me, 
 for here is no staying. — In despight of the devils 
 and hell, have through the very midst of you I and 
 heavens a:id honour he witness, that no want of re- 
 .solntion in me, bii-t only my followers' base and ig- 
 nominious treasons, makes me betake me to my 
 heels. [Exit. 
 
 Buck. What, is he fled ? go some, and follow him ; 
 And he, that brings his head unto the king, 
 Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. — 
 
 [Exeunt some of them, 
 28 
 
434 
 
 SECOND PART OP 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Followr ine, soldiers ; we'll devise a mean 
 
 To reconcile yoti all unto the king. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IX. — Kenelworth Castle. 
 Enter Kinrj Henrv, Queen Margaret, and 
 
 Somerset, on the terrace uf the Castle. 
 K. Hen. Was ever king, that joy'd an earthly 
 tiirone, 
 And could command no more content than I ? 
 No sooner was I crept out of" my cradle, 
 But 1 \\a% made a king, at nine montlis old : 
 Was never subject long'd to be n king. 
 As I do long and wish to be a subject. 
 
 Enter Buckingham and Clifford. 
 
 Buck. Health and glad tidings to your majesty ! 
 K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor, Cade, 
 surpris d i* 
 Or is he but retir'd to make hira strong? 
 
 Enter, below, a great number o/Cade's Followers, 
 ivtth halters about their necks. 
 
 Clif. He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do 
 ' yield ; 
 And humbly thus, with halters on their necks. 
 Expect your highness' doom, of life, or death. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting 
 gates, 
 To entertain my vows of thanks and praise ! 
 Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives, 
 And shew'd how well you love your prince and 
 
 country : 
 Continue still in this so good a mind, 
 Ami Henry, though he be unfortunate. 
 Assure yourselves, will never be unkind: 
 And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all, 
 I do dismiss you to your several countries. 
 
 All. God save the king ! God save the king ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Please it your grace to be advertised, 
 'J'he duke of York is newly come from Ireland : 
 And with a puissant and a mighty power. 
 Of Gallowglasses, and stout Kernes, 
 Is marching hitherward in proud arrav; 
 And still proclaifiieth, as he comes along. 
 His arms are only to remove from thee 
 The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. 
 
 K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and 
 York distress'd ; 
 Like to a ship, that, having 'scap'd a tempest, 
 lis straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate : 
 But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd ; 
 And now is York in arms to second him. — 
 I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet him; 
 And ask him, what's the reason of these arms. 
 I'ell him, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower; — 
 And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, 
 Until his army be dismiss'd from him. 
 
 Som. My lord, 
 I'll yield myself to prison willingly. 
 Or unto death, to do my country good. 
 
 K. Hen. In any case, be not too rough in terms ; 
 For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language. 
 
 'Buck. I will, my lord ; and doubt not so to deal 
 As all things shall redound unto your good. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern 
 better ; 
 t'or yet may England curse my wretched rei'jn. 
 
 [Exeuttt. 
 Scene X. — Kent. Idens Garden. 
 Enter Cade. 
 
 Cade. Fyeon ambition ! fye on myself; that have 
 a sword, and yet am ready to famish ! These five 
 days have I hid me in these woods; and durst not 
 peep Mt, for all the country is lay'd for me ; but ' 
 DOW am I so hungry, that if I might have a lease of. 
 my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. ' 
 Wiierefore, on a brick-wall have 1 climbed into this 
 
 garden ; to see if I can eat grass, or pick a salle< 
 another while, which is not amiss to cool a man"s 
 stomach liiis hot weather. And, I think, this word 
 sallet was born to do me good ; for, many a lime, 
 but for a sallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a 
 brown bill ; and, many a time, when I have been 
 dry and bravely marching, it hath served me inste;i,l 
 of a quart-pot to drink in ; and now the word saih i 
 must serve me to feed on. 
 
 Enter Iden, ivith Servants. 
 
 Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, 
 And may enjoy such quiet walks as these V 
 This small inheritance, my father left me, 
 Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy. 
 I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; 
 Or gather wealth, 1 care not with what envy: 
 Sulliceth, that 1 have maintiins my state, 
 And sends the poor well pleased (rom my gate 
 
 Cade. Here's the lord ot the soil come to seize me 
 for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. 
 — Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand 
 crowns of t'he king for carrying my head to him ; but 
 I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow 
 my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. 
 
 Iden. Why, rnde companion, whatsoe'er thou be, 
 I know thee not; Why then should I betray thee ? 
 Is"t not enough, to break into hiy garden. 
 And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 
 Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, 
 But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ? 
 
 Cade Brave thee?ay,by the best blood thateier 
 was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me 
 well : I have eat no meat these five days ; yet. come 
 thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all 
 as dead as a door nail, I pray God, I may never eal 
 grass more. fsiands. 
 
 Iden. JSay, it shall ne'er be said, while E.igliiii;! 
 That Alexander Iden, an esquire ol Kent, 
 Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 
 Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine, 
 See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. 
 Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; 
 Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ; 
 Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon ; 
 My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; 
 .^nd if my arm be heaved in the air. 
 Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. 
 As for more words, whose greatness answers words. 
 Let this my sword report what speech forbears. 
 
 Cade. By my \'alo'ir, the most complete champion 
 that ever I heard. — Steel, if thou turn the edge, or 
 cut not out the burley-boned clown in chines ot 
 beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God, on 
 my knees, thou mayest be turned to hobnails. ( They 
 fight. Cade Jails.) O, I am slain ! famine, and no 
 other, hath slain me: let ten tliousand devils come 
 against me, and give me but the ten meals I have 
 lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden ; and 
 be henceforth a bnrying-place to all that do dwt- 1) 
 in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cadr 
 is fled. 
 
 Iden. I.s't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous 
 traitor? 
 Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, 
 -And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead : 
 Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ; 
 But thou shall wear it as a herald's coat. 
 To emblaze the honour that thy master got. 
 
 Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy vic- 
 tory : Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best 
 man, and exhort all the world to be cowards ; for 1. 
 that never feared any, am vanquished by fannne, not 
 by valour. {Dies.) 
 
 Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven Ik 
 my judge. 
 Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee I 
 And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, 
 So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. 
 Hence will I drag thee headlong by tiie heels 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 435 
 
 Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, 
 And tliere cut off thy most ungracious head ; 
 VViiieh I will bear in triumpii to the king-. 
 Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 
 
 [Exit, dragging out the body. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. Fields between Dartford 
 and Blackheath. 
 
 The Kind's Camp on one side. On the other, enter 
 VoRH attended, with drum and colours: his 
 Forces at some distance. 
 
 York: From Ireland thus conies York, to claim 
 his right. 
 
 And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head : 
 
 liiiif; bells, aloud ; burn, bonlires, clear and bright. 
 
 To tntertain great England's lawfid king. 
 
 .\\i,sanctamajestas ! who would not buy thee dear? 
 
 Let them obey, that know nnt how to rule; 
 
 'i'liis hand was made to handle nought but gold : 
 
 1 cannot give due action to my words. 
 
 Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it 
 
 A sceptre siiall it have, have I a soul ; 
 
 Oa which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France. 
 
 Enter Buckingham. 
 
 Whom have me here? Buckingham, to disturb me ? 
 The king hath sent him, sure : I must dissemble. 
 Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee 
 
 well. 
 York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy 
 greeting. 
 Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure ? 
 
 Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, 
 To know the reason of these arms in peace ; 
 Or why, thou — being a subject as I am, — 
 .Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, 
 Sliouldst raise so great a power without his le:ne. 
 Or dare to bring tiiy force so neartlie court. 
 York. Scarce can I speak, ray choler is\ 
 so great, [flint, 
 
 (), I could hew up rocks, and figlit with 
 I am so angry at these abject terms ; 
 And now, like -\)ax Teiamonius, 
 On sheep or oxen could i spend my fury ! \ 4 .. ^/a 
 [ am far better born than is tlie king; 
 IMore like a king, more kingly in my 
 
 thoughts : 
 But I must make fair weather yet a while, 
 'Mil Henry be more weak, and I more 
 
 strong. — 
 
 O Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me, 
 'I'liat I have given no answer all this while : 
 iMy mind was troubled with deep melanchol5'. 
 The cause why I have brought this army hither. 
 Is — to remove proud Somerset from the king, 
 Seditious to his grace, and to the state. 
 
 Buck. That is too much prtsi'mption on thy par-t; 
 But it' thy arms be to no other end, 
 The king hath yielded unto thy demand; 
 'J'iif duke of Somerset is in the Tower. 
 
 York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? 
 Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. 
 York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my 
 powers, — 
 Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ; 
 Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, 
 You shall liave pay, and every thing you wish. 
 And let my sovereign, virtuous Hemy, 
 Conmiand my eldest son, — nay, all my sons. 
 As pledges of my fealty and love, 
 ril send them all as willing as I live ; 
 Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have 
 Is his to use, so Somerset mity die. 
 
 Buck. York, I commend this kind submission : 
 We twain will go into his higlmess' tent. 
 Enter King Hesry, attended. 
 K. Hen. Buckingham, dolii York intend no harm 
 tons 
 
 Thai thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm . 
 
 York. In all submission and humility, 
 York doth present himself unto your highness. 
 
 K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou dosl 
 bring ? 
 
 York. To heave the traitor Somerset from henc-i . 
 And figiit against that monstrous rebel. Cade, 
 Who smce 1 heard to be discomfited. 
 
 Enter Iden, with Cade's head. 
 
 Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition. 
 May pass into the presence of a king, 
 Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head. 
 The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.' 
 
 K. Hen. The head of Cade ? — Great God, how 
 just art thou ! — 
 O, let me view his visage being dead, 
 'I'hat living wrought me such exceeding trouble. 
 Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him ? 
 
 Iden. I was, an't like your majesty. [degree? 
 
 K. Hen. How art thou call'd ? and what is thy 
 
 Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name : 
 A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. 
 
 Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss 
 He were created knight for his good service. 
 
 K. Hen. Jden, kneel down; (he kneels.) Rise 
 up a knight. 
 We give thee for reward a thousand marks ; 
 And will, that thou henceforth attend on us. 
 
 Jden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty. 
 And never live but true unto his liege ! 
 
 K. Hen. See, Buckingham ! Somerset comes with 
 the queen , 
 Go bid her hide him quickly from the duke. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret a-waf Somerset. 
 
 Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide 
 his head, 
 But boldly stand, and front him to his face. 
 
 York. How now ! Is Somerset at liberty ? 
 Then, York, unloose thy long imprison'd thoughts. 
 And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. 
 Shall 1 endure the sight of Somerset ? — 
 False king! why hast thou broken faith with me, 
 Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? 
 King did I call thee? no, thou art not king: 
 Not fit to govern and rule multitudes. 
 Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. 
 That head of thine doth not become a crown ; 
 Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's st.ilf. 
 And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. 
 That gold must loiind engirt these brows of mine ; 
 Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, 
 Is able with the change to kill and cure. 
 Here is a hand to hold a seeptre up, 
 And with the same to act controlling laws. 
 Give place ; by liea\ en, thou shalt rule no more 
 O'er him, whom heaven created for thy ruler. 
 
 Sotn. O nionsti oils traitor I — I arrest thee, York, 
 Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown : 
 Obey, luidaciuus traitor; kneel lor graee. 
 
 York. Woiildst have me kneel? tirst let me as 
 of these. 
 If they can brook I bow a knee to man. 
 •Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail ; 
 
 \Exit an Attendant. 
 I know, ere they will have me go to ward, 
 'Jhey II pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. 
 
 Q. Mar. Call hither Clilford ; bid him come 
 amain. 
 To say, if that the bastard boys of York 
 Shall be the surety lor their traitor father. 
 
 York. O blood-bi^spotted Neapolitan, 
 Oiitrast of Naples, England's bloody sconrge! 
 The sons of Vurk, th> bftters in their birth, 
 .Siiali be their father's bail ; and bane So those 
 TIimI lor my surety will refuse the b(>y9t. 
 
436 
 
 SECOND PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Enter lilowARD and Richard Plantagenet, tvit/i 
 Forces, at one side ; at the ether, with Forces 
 a/so, Old Clifford and his Son. 
 
 See, uliere they come; I'll warrant they'll make it 
 pood. 
 
 Q. Mar. And here conies Cliifoid, to deny their 
 bail. 
 
 C/if. Health and happiness to my lord the kin^! 
 
 (Knee/s.) 
 
 York. I thank thee, ClilTord : Say, what news 
 with tiiee ? 
 Nay, do not fri«ht iis with nn angry look : 
 \Ve are thy sovereign, Cliti'ord, kneel again ; 
 For thy mistaking si, we pardon thee. 
 
 C/if. 'I'his is my king, York, I do not mistake ; 
 Hilt thon inistak'st me much, to think I do : — 
 'J'o Ht-dlam witii him' is the man grown mad? 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, ClilFord; a bedlam and ambitions 
 humour 
 Makes him oppose himself against his king. 
 
 C/if. He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower, 
 And chop away that factious pate of his. 
 
 Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey; 
 His sons, he says, shall give their words for liim. 
 
 York. Will yon not, sons? 
 
 Edw. Ay. noble latlier, if our words will starve. 
 
 Rich. And if words will not, then onr weapons 
 shall. 
 
 C/if. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here ! 
 
 York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so ; 
 I am thy king, and thou a false-heart Irailor. — 
 Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, 
 'J'liat, with the very shaking of their chains, 
 They may astonish these fell lurking curs; 
 Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me. 
 
 Drums. Enter Warwick and Salisbury, ivith 
 Forces. , 
 
 C/if. Are these thy bears ? we'll bait thy bears to 
 death, 
 And manacle the bear- ward in their chains, 
 If tiiOM daist bring them to the baiting place. 
 
 Rich. Oft l-.ave ] seen a hot o'erwf ening cur 
 (liinback and bite, because he was withheld; 
 W^ho, being sulfer'd with the bear's fell i>a\v, 
 llath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cry'd: 
 And such a )iiece of ser\ice will you do. 
 If yofl oppose yourself to m;ilch lord Warwick. 
 
 C/if Hence, lieaf) of wrath, foul indigested lump, 
 As crooked in thy manners as thy shape ! 
 
 York. Nay. we shall heat you thoroughly anon. 
 
 C/if. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn your- 
 selves. 
 
 K. Hen. VV^hy, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot 
 to bow ? — 
 Old Salisbury, — shame to thy silver hair. 
 Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son ! — 
 What, wilt thou on thy deathbed play the ruffian, 
 And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ? 
 O, where is faith 'i* O, where is loyalty? 
 If it be banish'd from the frosty head. 
 Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? — 
 Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out vvar, 
 And shame thine honourable age w ith blood ? 
 Why art thou old, and wanfst experience? 
 Or wiierelore dost abuse it, if thou hast it";* 
 For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me. 
 That bciws unto the gra\e with mickle age. 
 
 Sa/. .My Inrd, I have consider'd with myself 
 The title ol this must renowned duke ; 
 And in iiiy conscience do repute his grace 
 'I'he ri'jtitfid heir of England's royal seat. (me ? 
 
 K. Hen. II, 1st thou not sworn allegiance unto 
 
 Srd. I lia\e. 
 
 K. Hen. Canst (liou dispense with heaven for 
 ""ch an (lath ? 
 
 Sil 't ■<: Pleat sin. to swear unto a sin ; 
 But grealsr sin, to keep a sinful oath. 
 Who can be bound by aiiv .soleum vow 
 
 To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, 
 
 'I'o force a spotless viipn's chastity, 
 
 To reave the orphan ol his patrimony. 
 
 To wring the widow from her custom'd right; 
 
 .\nd ha\e no other reason for this wrong 
 
 But that he was bound by a solemn oath. 
 
 Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. 
 
 K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid iiim arm him 
 self [hast, 
 
 York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou 
 I am resolv'd for death, or dignity. 
 
 C/if. The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true 
 
 War Von were best to go to bed, and dream again 
 To keep thee from the tempest of the field. 
 
 C/if. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm, 
 l^han any thou canst conjure up to-day ; 
 And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, 
 Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 
 
 War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's 
 crest. 
 The ramp;int bear chain'd to the ragged staff, 
 This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, 
 {^s on a moimtain top the cedar shows. 
 That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,) 
 Even to affright thee with the view thereof 
 
 C/if. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear. 
 And tread it under foot witii all contempt. 
 Despight the bear-ward that protects the bear. 
 
 Y. C/if. And so to arms, victorious father. 
 To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. 
 
 Rich. Fye ! charity, for shame ! speak not in spite, 
 For you shall sup with Jesti Christ to night. 
 
 Y. C/if Foul stigmatick, that's more than thou 
 canst tell. 
 
 Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. 
 
 {Exeunt severa/ly. 
 
 Scene II. — St. A/bans. 
 A/anims : E.vciirsions. Enter Warwick. 
 War. Clifford of Ciimherland, 'tis Warwick calls ! 
 And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear. 
 Now, — when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, 
 .And dead men's cries ilo fiil the empty air, — 
 Clitiord, I say, come forth and fight with me ! 
 Proud nurthern lord, Clifi'ord of Cumberland, 
 Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. 
 
 Fitter York. 
 How now. my noble lord ? what, all afoot"? 
 
 Yor/i. The deadlyhanded Clilford slew my steed ; 
 But match to match I have encounter'd him, 
 And made a i rey for carrion kites and crows 
 Even of the bouuy beast he lov'd so well. 
 
 Enter CLIFFORD. 
 
 War. Of one or both of us the time is come. 
 York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other 
 chase. 
 For I myself must hunt this deer to death. 
 
 War. 'J'hen, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou 
 fight'st.— 
 As I intend, ClifTord, to thrive to-day. 
 It gri<"ves my soul to leave thee nnassail'd. 
 
 [Exit Warwick. 
 C/if. What seest thou in me, York "? why dost 
 
 thou pause '? 
 York. Witli thy brave bearing should I be in loTe, 
 But that thou art so fast mine enemy. 
 
 C/if. Nor should thy prowess want jiraise and 
 esteei?!. 
 But that 'tis shewn ignobly, and in treasim. 
 
 York. So let it help me now against thy sword, 
 As I injustice and true right express it! 
 
 C/if. My soul and body on the action both ! — 
 York. A dreadful lav ! — address thee iristantly 
 
 [Theyfujht. and C/ijford fa/Is.] 
 
 Clif. La fin covronne /es oeuvres. [Dies.] 
 
 York. Thus war hatii given liiei- ptace, for thoa 
 
 art still.— 
 
 Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be (iiy will I [Exit. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 437 
 
 Enler Yoy>^ Cwfford. 
 
 Y. Clif. Shame nnd f.: i(n>i>n ! all is on the rout ; 
 Fear fraines disorder, .U'» clis irder wounds 
 Where it should guard <) v. ar, Thou .son of hell. 
 Whom ansfry heavens do make their minister, 
 Throw ii) the frozen bosoms of our part 
 Hot coals ofvengvancel — Let no soldier fly: 
 He, that is truly dedicate to war,. 
 Hath no self love ; not he, that loves iiimself, 
 Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, 
 The uame of valour. — O, let the vile world end, 
 
 [Seeiri'j his dead father.) 
 And the premised flames of the last day 
 Knit earth and heaven together! 
 Now let the general trumpet blow his blast. 
 Particularities and petty sounds 
 To cease! — Wast thou ordain'd, dear father. 
 To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve 
 The silver livery of advised age ; 
 And, in thy reierence, and thy chair-days, thus 
 To die in rnlnan battle '' — Even at this sight, 
 My heart is turn'd to stone: and, while 'tis mine, 
 It shall be stony. York not our old men spares ; 
 No more will I their babes ; tear? virginal 
 Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; 
 And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims. 
 Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 
 Henceforth, I will not have to do wilh pity • 
 Meet I an infant of the house of York, 
 Into as many gobbets will I cut it. 
 As wihl Medea young Absyrtusdid: 
 In cruelty will 1 seek out my fame. 
 Come, thou new ruiu of old Cliftbrd's house ; 
 
 {Taking up tlie body.) 
 As did ^■Ijueas old Anchises bear. 
 So l>H:ir I thee upon my manly shoulders; 
 IJut ihe 1 v'Eiieas bare a living load. 
 Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Riciiakd Plantacenet and Somerset 
 fiyhtiiig, and Somerset is killed. 
 
 Hick. So, lie thou there ; — 
 For, underneath an aleiuiuse' paltry sign, 
 'iW Castle in St. Albans, Somerset 
 Uatli made the wiz:ird taraons in his death. — 
 Swiird, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still: 
 Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit. 
 
 Alarums^ Excursions. Enter King Henry, 
 QuEE.N Margaret, and others, retreating. 
 
 Q. Mar. Away, my, lord! you are slow; for 
 
 shame, away I 
 K- lien. Cm we outrun the heavens? good Mar- 
 garet, st.iy. Inor fly: 
 Q. Mar. What are you m;ide of? you'll not light, 
 Now !8 It miniiood, wisdom, and defence, 
 'io gjve Hie enemy uay ; end to seciire un 
 
 By what we can, wh'ch c m co more hut Br. 
 
 {Alarum afar ojfW 
 If yon be ta'en, we (hen ahrmld see the bottom 
 Of all our fortunes: Lnt. if we haply scape, 
 (As well we may, if not il.rough your neglect.) 
 We shall to London get ; where you are luv'd : 
 And where thi.s breach, now in our fortunes uiaiie. 
 May readily be stopp'd. 
 
 Enter Young Clifford. 
 
 Y. Clif. But that my heart's on i'uture mischief .s t 
 I would speak blasphemy, ere bid yon fly ; 
 But fly you must; uncnrable discomfit 
 Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. 
 Away, for your relief! and we will live 
 To see their day, and them our fortune give : 
 Away, my lord, away ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IH. — Fields near Saint Albans. 
 Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter York, 
 
 KicHARD Plantacenet, Warwick, and So/ 
 
 diers, tvith drum and colours. 
 
 York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him; 
 That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets 
 Aged contusions, and all brush of time; 
 And like a gallant in the brow of youth. 
 Repairs him with occasion? this happy day 
 Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, 
 If Salisbury be lost 
 
 Rich. My noble fattier. 
 
 Three times to day I holp him to his liorse. 
 Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off. 
 Persuaded him from any further act: 
 But still, v/here dani^er was, still there I met liiai ; 
 And like rich hangings in a huinely house. 
 So was his will in his old feeble body. 
 But, nobis as he is, look where he comes. 
 
 Enter Salisbcjrv. 
 
 Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fou:'i t 
 to-day ; 
 By the mass, so did we all. — I thank you, Rich;i , , 
 God knows, hovv long it is I have to live ; 
 And it hath pleas'd him, that three limes to-day 
 You have defended me from imminent death. — 
 Well, lords, we ha^ e not got that which we hav e : 
 ' Tis not enough cur foes are this time fled. 
 Being opposites of such repairing nature. « 
 
 York. 1 know, our satety is to follow them ; 
 For, as I hear, the king is fled to London 
 To call a present court of parliament. 
 Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth : — 
 What says lord Warwick ? shall we after them ?— 
 
 War. Alter them ! nay, before them, if we • an. 
 Now by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day : 
 Saint Albans' battle, won by famous York, 
 Sliall be eterniz d in all age to come. — 
 Suuiid, dru US and trumpets; — and to London all: 
 Ajud more such days as these to us befall ! \_^'.ieun 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 1 WW** P*"" "f ^<^S Henry VI. are susppclctl, liy Mr. Tl eohalil, of being suppositions, and are declereil, }>j 
 or. Warburton, to be ceriaiiily iint Sliakspeare's. Mr. Thenbalds suspicion arises from some obsolete words; but 
 tne pliraseology is hke the rest of our atitliors slyle, and si.-igle words, of which however 1 do not observe more than 
 two, can conclude liitle. 
 
 Dr WarbuitoM gives no reason, but I suppose him lo judge upon deeper principles and more comprehensive views, 
 and to draw his opinion Iroin llie gciieial etlect and spirit of tlie composition, which he thinks i.-.i'trior to llie other hislo- 
 rical plays. 
 
 From mere inferiority nothing can be inferred; in the producfir.ns of wit there will be inequality. Sometimes judgment 
 "•f ''.'if' "''"'"^'''""^'"''"'^'' ''"''"'"'- -"'^''* '•"'"'''*' Of cverv author's works one will be the best, and our 
 
 " K '^,;!'?"*"^^' ' '^'^'''"'■'* "'■^ ""' equally pleasing, nor the attitudes equally graceful, in all the pictuics of Tiliau 
 
 Dissimilitude of style and heterngi-nenusness of sentiment, mav sufficiently show that a work does not really belong ru 
 the reputed author. But in these plajs no such marks of spurioiisncss arc found. The diction, the versilicalion, and the 
 ngures are ahakspeare's. These plays, considered without regard to characters and incidents, merely as narratives in 
 verse, ai^ more liap|>ily conceived, and more accurately finished, than tho.se of King John. Ricliard II. or the traeic scenes 
 of King Henry IV. and V. If we take these jilays from Shakspeare, to whom shall they be given ? What author of tliit 
 age had tlie same easiness of expression wild fluency of numbers? Of these three plays I think the second the best. The 
 tnitli IS, that they have not sullicient variety of action, fur the incidents are too often of the same kind; vet many of fi.e 
 1 innicters are well discniniiiaied King Hemy, and kis queen, king Edward, the duke of Gloster, and the earl of War- 
 wick, are very strongly and distinctly painted. Jufinson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KING HENRY THE SIXTH. 
 
 EDWARD. Prince of Wa/es, /lis Son. 
 
 LKWIS XI, King of France. 
 
 DL'KE OF SOMERSET, 
 
 DUKE OF EXETER, 
 
 EARL OF OXFORD, 
 
 EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, 
 
 EARL OP WESTMORELAND, 
 
 LORD CLIFFORD, 
 
 RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke „f York. 
 
 EDWARD, Earl ot March, ajterwurd'a King 
 
 Eli ward IV , 
 EDMUND, Earl of Rutland. 
 GEORGE, afterwards Duke of Clarence, 
 RICHARD, afterwards Duke of Glocester 
 DIKE OF NORFOLK. , 
 
 MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE. I 
 
 "' \ of the Duke ef York's 
 
 EARL OF WARWICK. 
 
 EARL OF PEMBROKE, 
 LORD HASTINGS, 
 
 lord stafford, 
 
 Scene,- 
 
 SIR JOHN MORTIMER, ) rr , „ , „ n t r \' ^ 
 SIR HUGH MORTIMER, } Uncles to the Duke of i ork. 
 
 HENRY, Earl (>f Richmond, a Youth. 
 
 LORD RIVERS Brother to Lady Grey. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM STANLEY. 
 
 SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY. 
 
 SIR JOHN SOMERVILUi. 
 
 Tutor to Rutland. 
 
 M'lyor of York. 
 
 lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 A Nublejnan. 
 
 Two Keepers. 
 
 A Huntsman. 
 
 A Sun that has killed his Father. 
 
 A Father that has killed his Son. 
 
 QUEEN MARGARET. 
 
 LADY GREY, afterwards Queen to Edward tV. 
 
 BONA, Sister to the French Queen. 
 
 Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and KLifr 
 Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, etc. 
 
 Durinrj part of the third Act, in France; during all the rest of the Play, in Emdntnl. 
 
 Lords on King 
 Henry's side. 
 
 ihis Sons. 
 
 I' arty. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I.— London. The Parliament-Hottse. 
 Dntnis. Some Soldiers- of Yorlc's Partij break i??,. 
 
 Then, enter the Duke of York, Edward, 
 
 Richard, Norfolk, Montacue, Warwick, and 
 
 others with white roses in their hats. 
 
 War. I wonder liow the king escap'd our hand.s. 
 
 York. While we piirsii'd the horsemen of the 
 He slily stole away, and left his nieti : [north, 
 
 Wliereatthe great lord of Northumberland, 
 Wiiose warlilie ears could never brook retreat, 
 Cheer'd iip the droo.uioe: army; and himself. 
 Lord Ciiirord, and lord Stalford, all a-breast, 
 Cliaig'd our main batlle's front, and, breaking in. 
 Were by the swords of coMiiiion soldiers slain. 
 
 Ediv. Lord .Staftord's father, duke of Biickin<rhain 
 fs either slain, or wounded dangerous : 
 I cleft his beaver with a downright blow; 
 That this is true, father, behold his blood. 
 
 {Shelving his bloody Sivord.) 
 
 Mont. And, brother, here's tiie earl of Wiltshire's 
 blood, [To York, shewing his.) 
 
 \V liom I encoiinter'd as the battles join'd. 
 
 Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. 
 
 (Throwing down the Duke of Somersets head.) 
 
 Yorir. Richard hath best deserv'd ol all mysotis. 
 
 What, isyourg-race dead, my lord of Somerset V 
 
 NorJ. Such hope have all the line of John of 
 G^unt! 
 
 Rich. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry's head. 
 i> r V '^ ^° ''^ I— Victorious prince of York, 
 Belor^ 1 see thee sealed in that throne 
 V\ htcb DOW the house of Lancaster usurp.*. 
 
 I vow by heaven, these eyes shall never close, 
 'i'his is the palace of the fearful king. 
 And this the regal seat: possess it, York; 
 For this is thine, and not king Henry s heirs. 
 
 York. Assist me then, sweet VVarwick, and 1 
 will; 
 For hither we have broken in by force. 
 Norf. We'll all assist yon ; he that flies shall (\\v. 
 York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. — Stay by tne, 
 lords ; — 
 And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. 
 War. And, when the king comes, otier hint 
 violence, 
 Unless he seek to thnist you otit by force. 
 
 (They reliie. 
 York. The qneen, this day, here holds lieipa, 
 liaraent, 
 lint little thinks we shall be of her council : 
 By words, or blows, here let us win our right. 
 Rich. Arn>'d as we are, let's stay within this 
 
 house. 
 War. 'I'he bloody parliament shall this be call'd. 
 Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king ; 
 And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice 
 Hath made us bywords to ourenemies. 
 
 \ork. Then leave me not, my lords ; be resolute ; 
 I meau to tak^possession of my right. 
 
 War. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best. 
 The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, 
 Dares stir a wing, if Warwick, shake his bells. 
 I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares : — 
 Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the Englisn crown. 
 
 f Warwick leads York to thti ihrone, ivhi 
 seats hitnseif.j 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 
 
 4by 
 
 Flottrisk. Enter King Henry, Clifford, North- 
 umberland, VV'ESTMOufcLANU, Exeter, and 
 others, ivith red ruses in their hats. 
 
 K. Hen. My lortls, look where tlse sturdy rebel sits, 
 Even in tiie chair of stati- ! belike, he means, 
 (Uaok'd by the power of VS'arwick, that false peer,) 
 To aspire imto tlie crown, a id reign as king. — 
 Eail of Northumberland, iie slew thy father ; — 
 V iid tliine, lord Cliftbrd; and you both have vow'd 
 revenge 
 On him, his suns, his favourites, and his friends. 
 
 Horth. If I be not, heavens, be reveng'd on i:ie I 
 
 Clif. The hope thereof makes Clittbrd mourn in 
 steel. 
 
 West. What, sliall we suffer this? let's pluck 
 him down : 
 My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. 
 
 K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. 
 
 Clif. Patience is for pollrons, and such as he : 
 He durst nut sit there, had your father liv'd. 
 My gracious lord, here in tlie parliament 
 Let us assail the family of York. 
 
 North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin ; be it so. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, know yon not, the city favours them. 
 And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? 
 
 Exe. But, when llie duke is slain, they'll quicklv 
 Hy. 
 
 K. Hen. Far be the thonght of this from Henry's 
 heart. 
 To make a shambles of the parliament-house ! 
 Cousin ol' Exeter, (rowns, woids, and threats, 
 Shall be the war that Henry means to use. — 
 
 [They advance to the Duke.) 
 Thou factions duke of York, descend my throne, 
 And kneel for grace and mercy at my leet; 
 I am thy sovereign. 
 
 York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am tiiine. 
 
 Exe. For shame, cume down; he made thee 
 duke of York. 
 
 York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. 
 
 Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. 
 
 War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, 
 £n following this usurping Henry. 
 
 Clif. Wl:om should he follow, but his natural 
 king? 
 
 War. True, Clifford ; and that's Richard duke 
 of York. 
 
 K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit, ia my 
 throne ? 
 
 York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. 
 
 War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. 
 
 West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster; 
 And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. 
 
 War. And Warwick shall disprove it. Vou 
 forget. 
 That we are those which chas'd you from the field, 
 And slew your fathers, and with colours spread 
 March'fi through the city to the palace gates. 
 
 North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; 
 And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. 
 
 West. Plantagenet, of thee, and tjiese thy suns. 
 Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives. 
 Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. 
 
 C///; Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, 
 I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger. 
 As sluill revenge his death, before I stir. 
 
 War. Poor Clifford I how 1 scorn his worthless 
 threats! 
 
 Y'ork. Will you, we shew our title to the crown ? 
 If not. niir swords shall plead it in the field. 
 
 K. Hen. Wliat title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? 
 Thy iiitlier was, as thou art, duke of York ; 
 Thy gr:in(lf.ither, Roger Aloitimer, earl of March : 
 I Mill tiie son of Henry the Filtii, 
 V'v ho m.ide the Dauphin and the French to stoop. 
 Am) seiis'd upon their towns and provinces. 
 
 Mar. Talk iiotof France, sitli thou liast lost it all. 
 
 K. Hen. i lie lord protector lost it, and not I ; 
 When i wa.s criiv*u fl, I was but nine montlis old. 
 
 Rich. Yon are old enough now, and yet, metkixks, 
 you lose: — 
 Father, tear the crown froiu the usurper's head. 
 
 Kdtv Sweet father, do so ; set it on your head. 
 
 Mont. Good brother, {to York) as tliou lov'st 
 . and iionour'st arms, 
 Let's fight it out. and not stand cavilling thus. 
 
 Rich. Sound drums and trun»pets, and the kine 
 will (ly. '' 
 
 YorJr. Sous, peace ! 
 
 K. Hen. Peace thou I and gi\e kiog Henry leave 
 to speak. 
 
 War. Plantagenet shall speak first : — hear him, 
 And be you silent and attentive too. [lords, 
 
 For he that interrupts him shall not live. 
 
 K. Hen. Thiiik'st tiioii that I will leave my 
 kingly throne. 
 Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat? 
 No : first sliall war unpeople this my realm ; 
 .\y, and their colours — often borne in France ; 
 And now in England, to our heait's great sorrow, — 
 Shall be my winding sheet.— Why i'aint you, lords? 
 My title's good, and better far than his. 
 
 War. But prove it, Henry, and thou shall be 
 king. 
 
 K. Hen. Henry the Fourth, by conquest got the 
 crown. 
 
 York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. 
 
 K. Hen. I know not what to say; my title's 
 Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir';" [weak. 
 
 York. What then ? 
 ^ K. Hen. An if he may, then am I a lawful king 
 For Richard, in the \ iew of many loids, 
 Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ; 
 Whose heir my father was, and 1 am his. 
 
 Icork. He rose against him, being his so\ereign. 
 And made hiiu to resign his crown perforce. 
 
 War. Suppose, my lords, he did it uiiconstrain'd. 
 Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown? 
 
 Exe. No; for he could not so resign his crown, 
 But that the next heir should succeed and reign. 
 
 K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter ? 
 
 Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. 
 
 York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer 
 not ? 
 
 Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king. 
 
 K. Hen. All will revolt fiom me, and turn to 
 him. 
 
 North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thoa lay'st. 
 Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd. 
 
 War. Depos'd he shall he, in despite of all. 
 
 North, 'i'hou art deceiv'd : 'tis not thy soiilliern 
 power, 
 Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,— 
 Which makes thee thus ])iesuiiiptuoiis ami proud, — 
 Can set the duke up, in despite of me. 
 
 Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, 
 Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence : 
 May that ground gape, and swallow me alive, 
 Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father 
 
 K. Hen. O Clifford, how tiiy words revive my 
 heart ! 
 
 York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown: — 
 What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? 
 
 War. Do right unto this princely duke of York; 
 Or I will fill the house with armed men, 
 .And o'er tiie chair of state, where now he sits. 
 Write up his title with usurping blood. 
 [He stumps, and the Soldiers shetv themselves.) 
 
 K. Hen. My lord ol Warwick, hear nie but one 
 word ; — 
 Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king. 
 
 York. Confirm tiie crown to me, and to mine heirs, 
 And Ihoii shall reign in quiet, while thou liv'st. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content: Richard Plantagenet, 
 Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. [son ? 
 
 Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your 
 
 War. What gooil is tliis t,) England, and himself? 
 
 West. Base, feart^ul, and despairing Henry ! 
 
 Ctli'. Ilow nasi tiiou injnr'd both thyself Hud us? 
 
440 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act 1 
 
 West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. 
 hiori/i. Nor I. [news. 
 
 Clif. Come, cousin, let ns tell the queen these 
 Went. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate 
 k-ing, 
 In whose cold blood no spark of honour l^ides. 
 
 Norl/i. Be tlion a prey unto the house of Vork, 
 And die in bands for this unma'ily deed I 
 
 Ciif. In dread fid war may'st thou be overcome ! 
 Of li\e in peace, abandon'd, and despis'd ! 
 
 [Exeunt NorthumlerUmd, Ciiffurd, and 
 
 Westmoreland. 
 
 War. Turn tliis way, Heury, and regard them 
 
 not iyield. 
 
 Exe. Tliey seek revenge, and therefore wdl not 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, Exeter! 
 
 War. Why should yon sigli. niy lord ? 
 
 K. Hen. Not for myself, lord Warwick, but my 
 Wliom 1 unnaturally shall disinherit. [son. 
 
 But, be it as it may : — I here entail 
 The crown to thee, and to thine heirs for ever; 
 Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 
 To cease this civd war, and, whilst I live. 
 To honour me as thy king and sovereign; 
 And neither by treason, nor hostility. 
 To seek to put me down, and reign thyself. 
 
 York. 'I his oath I vviliiiigly take, and will per- 
 form. [Coming from the throne.) 
 War. Long live king Heury ! — Plantagenet, 
 embrace him. [ward sons ! 
 K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy for- 
 York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. 
 Exe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make tiiein foes ! 
 [Senet. The Lords come forward.) 
 York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my 
 
 castle. 
 War. And I'll keep Ijondon, with my soldiers. 
 Norf. And I to Norfolk, with my followers. 
 Mont. And 1 unto the sea, I'rom whence I came. 
 [Exeunt York, and his Sons, Warwick, Nor- 
 folk, Montaijjie, Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 K. Hen. And 1, with grief and sorrow, to the 
 court. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret and the Prince o/Wales. 
 Exe. Here comes the qneen, whose looks bewray 
 her anger : 
 I'll steal away. 
 
 K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Goimj.) 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow 
 thf-e. [stay. 
 
 K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and 1 will 
 Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such extremes ? 
 Ah, wretched man I 'would I had died a maid, 
 And never seen thee, never borne tliee son. 
 Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a fither! 
 Hath lie deserv'd to lose his birthright thus? 
 Had'st thou but lov'd him half so well as I ; 
 Or felt that |iain, which I did for him once ; 
 Or nourisii'd him, as I did with my blood; 
 Thou wouldst ha\e left thy dearest heart blood there, 
 Rather than made that savage duke thine heir. 
 And disiniierited thine only son. 
 
 Prince Father, you caimot disinherit me : 
 If you be king, why should not I succeed ? 
 
 K. Hen. I'ardon me, Margaret ; — pardon mc; 
 sweet son ; — 
 Tlie earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd nie. 
 Q. Mar. Enforc'd theel art thou kinur, and wilt 
 be I'orc'd ? 
 I shame to hear tliee speak. Ah, ti norous wretcli I 
 Tbdii hast iind(me thyself, thy sim, and me; 
 And given unto the haiise of York siicii head, 
 As thou shall reiijn but hy their siiireraiicc. 
 To entail him and his heiis unto tiie crown. 
 What IS it hut to make tiiy seimlehre, 
 Ai'.il creep into it lar Ijelore tliy time ? 
 Warwick is chancellor, and Ih'e lord of Cal lis; 
 Stern Faulconhridj^e eoniinaiuls the narrow seas; 
 The duke is made protector of tiie realm ; 
 
 And yet shalt thou be safe? sncb safety finds 
 
 The trembling lamb, environed with wolves. 
 
 Had I been tiiere, which am a silly woman, 
 
 The soldiers should have toss'd me on iheir pikes, 
 
 Before I would have granted to that act. 
 
 But tlioii preierrst thy life before thine lii>no!ir • 
 
 And seeing thou dost, I here divorce niysell', 
 
 Both li-oin thy table, Henry, and thy bed. 
 
 Until that act of parliament be repeal d. 
 
 Whereby my son is disiiiheiited. 
 
 The nortiiern lords, that have lorsworn thv colours; 
 
 Will follow Mime, ifoiu'e tiiey see ilic" spread : 
 
 And spread they shall be ; to thy loiii d sgraee. 
 
 And litter ruin of the house of \ ork. 
 
 'I'lius do 1 leave thee: — Corne, son, let's away : 
 
 Our army's ready ; come, we'll after them. 
 
 /v. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me 
 
 speak. 
 Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already ; get 
 
 thee gone. 
 K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with 
 
 me t 
 Q. Mar. Ay, to be niunler'd by his enemies. 
 Pri7ice. W lien I return with victory from the field, 
 I'll see your grace : till then, I'll follow her. 
 
 Q. Mar. Come, son, away ; we may not linger 
 thus. [Exeunt Q. Manj. and the Prince 
 K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, and to 
 her son. 
 Hath made her break out into terms of rage ! 
 Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke ; 
 Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire. 
 Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle. 
 Tire on the llesh of me, and of my son 1 
 The loss of thofe three lords torments my heart: 
 I'll write unto ihein, and entreat tlieni lair; — 
 Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. 
 Exe. And 1, I hope, shall reconcile them all. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene II. ,.1 Room in Sandal Vmtle, near 
 
 Wakejield, in Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter Edwaud, Richard, and Montague. 
 Rich. Brother, though 1 be youngest, give me 
 Ediv. No, I can better play tlse orator. [leave. 
 Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. 
 
 Enter York. 
 
 York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a 
 strife? 
 What is your quarrel ? how began it first? 
 
 Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention. 
 
 York, .\boiit v\ hat ? land us- 
 
 Rich. About tliat, which concerns your grace. 
 The crown ol England, fathers, which is yours. 
 
 York. Wine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. 
 
 Rich. \ our right depends not on his liie, or death, 
 
 Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now : 
 By giving the house of Lancaster leaNe to breathe, 
 It will outrun you, father, in the end. 
 
 York. 1 took an oath, tliat he should quietly reic>^ 
 
 Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may l>e 
 broken : 
 I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. 
 
 Rich. No ; God forbid, your gface should be 
 lorsworn. 
 
 York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. 
 
 Rich. I'll i>rove the contrary, if you 11 bear rae 
 
 speak. 
 York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. 
 
 Rich. An oath s of no moment, bei>ig not ^,^,\ 
 Before a triit and lawful inaf^istrate, 
 Tiiat hath aiitliorily over him that swears: 
 Henry had none, but did usurp the place; 
 Then", seeing 'twas he that made y(m to depose. 
 Your oath, my lord, is vain and lri\oh>ii.s. 
 'I'hereloie, to arms. Anil, fither, do b.it think 
 How sweet a tiling it is to wear a crown; 
 \\ ithiii whose ciiciut is Eiysinm, 
 ' And all that poets ieiga ol bli»s and joy. 
 
Scene 4, 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 441 
 
 Why do we linger thus ? I cannot rest, 
 Uiitill the white rose, that I wear, be dyed 
 Even ill the lukewarm blood of litniy's heart. 
 
 York, llichard, enough ; I will be king, or die.— 
 Brotlier, tiioii slialt to London pivsentiy. 
 And w Net oil Warwick to his enterprise.— 
 Thou, Kichard, slialt unto the duke oi Norfolk, 
 And tell him privdy of our intent. — 
 ^ ou E Iward, shall unto my lord Cobhain, 
 W ilii whom theKentishnien will willingly rise : 
 In theui I trust; for tliey are soldiers, 
 W'itly and coniteous, liberal, full of spirit. — 
 Whil'i- you are thus emjiloy'd, wliat resteih more, 
 Hut that 1 seek occasion how to rise ; 
 .And yet the king not privy to my driit, 
 Nor any of the house of Lancaster ? 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such 
 post i 
 Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls 
 and lords, 
 [ntend lure to besiege you in your castle : 
 She is hard by with twenty thousand men ; 
 And therefore fortH'y your hold, my lord. 
 
 York. Ay, with my sword. Wnat! think'st thou 
 ihat we fear them? 
 Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; — 
 My brother Montague shall post to London : 
 Let noble Warwick, Cobhaiii, and tlie rest, 
 Wlioiii we have left protectors of the king. 
 With powerful policy strengthen themselves. 
 And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. 
 
 Mutit. Brother, I go : Til w in them, fear it not : 
 And tlnis most humbly 1 do take my leave. [Exit. 
 Enter Sir J oiiN and Sir Hugh Mortimer. 
 York. S r John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine 
 You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ; [uncles ! 
 The uiiiiy of (he qneec mean to besiege us. 
 Sir John. Slie shall not need, we'll meet her in 
 
 the field. 
 York. VVh?t, with five thousand men ? 
 Rich. Ay, with five hundred, f.ither, for a need. 
 .\ woiiians general; Wh.it should we fear .^ 
 
 [A march afar off.) 
 Edw. I hear their drums ; let s set our men in 
 order; 
 And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. 
 
 York. Five men to twenty! — though ihe odds 
 I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. [be gre.it, 
 
 Many a battle liave I won in France, 
 When as the enemy hath been ten to one ; 
 Wliy siiould I not now have the like success ? 
 
 \Alaruiii. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — Plaint, near Sandal Castle. 
 
 Alarums. Excursions. Enter Rutlxtud and his 
 Tutor. 
 
 Rut. .\h, whither shall 1 fly to 'scape their hands? 
 Ah, tutor ' liiok, where bloody Clilford comes ! 
 Enter Clifford and Soldiers. 
 
 Clif. Chap'ain, away 1 thy priesthood saves thy 
 As for the brat of this accursed duke, [life. 
 
 vVhose father slew my father, — he shall die. 
 
 Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. 
 
 Clif. Soldiers, away with him. 
 
 Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child, 
 Lest thou be hated both of God and man. 
 
 [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. 
 
 Clif. How now ! is he dead already ? ()r, is it fear 
 That makes him close his eyes ? — I'll open them. 
 
 Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
 That trembles under his devouring paws: 
 And so he w dks, insulting o'er his prey ; 
 And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. — 
 Ah, gentle Clilford, kill me with thy sword. 
 And not with such a cruel threat'nii:ig look. 
 Sweet Cltfiird. hear me speak before 1 die 
 I am Uyn mean a subject for thy wrath, 
 Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live 
 
 Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor hoy ; my fo- 
 
 ther's blood (enter. 
 
 Hath stopp'd the (lassage where thy words should 
 
 Rut. Then let my. father's blood open it again ; 
 He is a man, and, Clilford, cope with him. 
 
 Clif. Had I thy bretliren here, their lives, and 
 VVere not revenge sufficient for r.ie ! [thine, 
 
 No, if I digg'd lip thy forefathers' graves. 
 And hung tlieir rotten coffins up in chains. 
 It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. 
 The sight of any of the house of York 
 Is as a iiiry to torment my soul ; 
 And till I root tint their accursed line. 
 And leave not one alive, I live in hell, 
 'i'herefore — [Lifting his hand.) 
 
 Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death: 
 To thee I |)ray ; Sweet Clifford, pity me! 
 
 Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. 
 
 Rut. I never did thee harm ; Why wilt thou 
 
 Clif Thy father hath. [slay me? 
 
 Rut. But 'twns ere I was born. 
 
 Thou hast one sun, for his sake pity me ; 
 Lest in revenge thereof, — sith God is just, — 
 He be as miserably slain as I. 
 Ah. let me live in prison all my days ; 
 And when 1 give occasion of offence, 
 Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 
 
 Clif. No cause ? 
 Thy lather slew my father; therefore die. 
 
 [Clifford stabs him,) 
 
 Rut. Dii faciant, laudis sumnia sit ista tuce ! 
 
 [Dies.) 
 
 Clif, Plantagenet ! I come, Plantagenet! 
 And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade. 
 Shall rust upon my weajjon, till thy blood, 
 Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — The sarrie. 
 Alarum. Enter York.. . 
 York. The army of the queen hath got the field: 
 My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ; 
 And all my followers to the eager foe 
 I'urn back, and fly. like ships before the wind, 
 Or lambs piirsu'd by hunger-starved wolves. 
 My sons — God knows what hath bechanced them: 
 But this I know, — they have deinean'd themselves 
 Like men born to renown, by life or death. 
 'J'hree times did Richarl make a lane to me; 
 And thrice cried, — Courage, father ! fight it out 
 And full as oft came Eilward to my side. 
 With purple faulchiou, painted to the hilt 
 In blood of those that had encounter'd him; 
 And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
 Richard cried, — Charge', and give no foot ofgroundi 
 And cried, — ^4 crown, or else a. glorious tomb! 
 A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre ! 
 With this, we cliarg'd again: but, out, alas! 
 We hodg'd again; as I have seen a swan 
 VVith bootless labour swim against the tide. 
 And spend her strength with oNe:--matcliing waves. 
 
 [A short alarum within.) 
 Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do imisue; 
 And 1 am faint, and cannot fly their fury : 
 And, were I strong, I would nt)t shun their fury 
 The sands are number'd, that make up my life 
 Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northum- 
 berland, and Soldiers. 
 
 Come, bloody Clilford, — rough Northumberland, — 
 I dare your quenchless fury to more ra^e ; 
 I am your butt and I abide your shot. 
 
 North. Yield to our mercy proud Plantagenet. 
 
 C/if. Ay, to such mercy, as lii.<j ruthless arm. 
 With downright payment, sliew'd unto ray father 
 Now Phaeton hath tumbled f/jin his car, 
 And made an evening at the noontide prick. 
 
 York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth 
 A bird, that will revenge upon you all • 
 And, iu that hope, I tlirow miue eyew to heaven. 
 
442 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act I. 
 
 ScoTDiiig wimte'er you can afllict me \x itli. 
 VV'liy come yon not? what! multitudes, and fear? 
 Ci{f'. So cowards figiit, wlien they can fly no fur- 
 ther; 
 So doves do peck {he falcon's piercing t:doii8 ; 
 So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, 
 Breathe (lut invectives 'gainst the officers. 
 
 York. O CiilKird, hut bethnik thee once again, 
 And in thy thought o'erriin my former time : 
 And, if thou canst for blushing, \iew this face; 
 And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowar- 
 dice, 
 Whose frown hath made tiiee faint and fly ere this. 
 Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word ; 
 But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. 
 
 {Draics.) 
 Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand 
 causes, 
 I woidd ptolong awhile the traitor's life; — 
 Wrath m ikes him deaf: speak thou, Northumber- 
 land, [much, 
 North. Hold, Clifford ; do not honour him so 
 To piick liiy finger, thougli to wound his heart- 
 Whit valour were it, when a cur duth grin, 
 Vm- (ine to thrust liis hand between his teeth, 
 When he might sprun him with his foot away? 
 It is war's prize to take all 'vantages ; 
 And ten to one is no impeach oi valour. 
 
 [They lay hands on York, who striifjfjhs^ 
 Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. 
 North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. 
 
 ( York is take?i prisoner.) 
 York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd 
 bo(jty : 
 So trne men yield, with robbers so o'er inatch'd. 
 North. Wtiat would your grace have done unto 
 him now ? Iberland, 
 
 Q. Mar. Urave warriors, Clifford and Nortiium- 
 Come, make him stand ui'on tliis molehill here ; 
 That raught at mountains with onstretched arms. 
 Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. — 
 What, was it you, that wonll be England's king? 
 Wast you, that revell'd in our parliament. 
 And made a preachment of your high descent? 
 Where are your mess of sons to back you now ? 
 The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? 
 And wiiere's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
 Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, 
 Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? 
 Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ? 
 Look, York; 1 stain'd this napkin with the blood 
 That valiant Clitford with his rapier's point 
 Made issue from the bosom of the bny ; 
 And, if thine eyes can water for his death, 
 I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. 
 Alas, |ioor York! but that 1 hate thee deadly 
 I should lament thy miserable state. 
 I ))r'ythe,', grieve to make me merry, York; 
 Staiiip, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. 
 What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails, 
 'I'hat not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? 
 Why art thou patient, man? thou should st be mad; 
 And" I, to make thee mad, do mock tliee thus. 
 'J'hou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; 
 York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.— 
 A crown lor York : — and, lords, bow low to him. — 
 Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.— 
 
 [Putting a i>aper crown on his head.) 
 Ay, marry, sir, now looks lie like a king! 
 Ay, tliis is he that took king Henry's chair; 
 And this is lie was his adopted heir. — 
 But liiiw is it, tuat great Plantagenet 
 Is ci Dwn'd so soon, and broke Ins solemn oath ? 
 As I bethink me, you should not be king, 
 'I'lll our kin.; Henry had shook hands with death. 
 And will you pale your head In Henry's glory. 
 And rob iiis temples of the diadem, 
 Nov* in his life, against your holy oath? 
 O. 'tis a fault t\)o, too unpardonable ! — 
 Otf with the crown ; and, with the crown, bis head ; 
 
 And, whilst we lireathe, take time to do him dead. 
 Clif. Th.it is my office, for my father's saVe. 
 Q Mar. Nay, stay ; let's liear tiic orisons lie 
 
 makes. 
 Yori. She- wolf of France, but worse than woUe."" 
 of France, 
 Whose tongue more poisons than the adders tootli ! 
 How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex. 
 To triumph like an Amazonian trull, 
 Upon their woes whom fortune captiiates '^ 
 But ihat fhy face is, visor-like, unchanging, 
 IVlade impudent with use of evil deeds, 
 I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush : 
 To tell thee whence thou eum'st. of whom deiiv'd. 
 Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not 
 
 shameless. 
 Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, 
 Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem ; 
 ^ et not so wealthy as an English yeo-man. 
 Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ? 
 It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen ; 
 Unless the adage must be verified, 
 'i'hat beggars, mounted, run their horse to death 
 ''I'is beauty, that doth oft make women proud ; 
 But God, he knows, thy share thereof is small: 
 'Tis virtue, that doth make them most adinir'd ; 
 The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at : 
 'Tis government, that makes them seem divine j 
 The want thereof makes thee abominable : 
 Thou art as opposite to every good. 
 As the Antipodes are unto us. 
 Or as the south to the septentrion. 
 O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! 
 How couldst thou drain the lite-blood ol the child. 
 To bid the lather wipe his eyes withal. 
 And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? 
 Women are solt, mild, pitilul and flexible; 
 Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 
 Bid'st thou me rage :* why, now thou hast thy wish : 
 Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast thy 
 
 will : 
 For raging wind blows up incessant showers. 
 And when the rage allays, the rain begins. 
 These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ; 
 And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 
 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, — and thee, false Fremh 
 woman. 
 North. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so, 
 That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. 
 
 York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 
 Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd 
 
 with blood : 
 But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, — 
 i), ten times more, — than tigers of Hyicania. 
 See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : 
 This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, 
 And I with tears do wash the blood away. 
 Keep thou the na|)kin, and go boast of this : 
 
 [He gives back the handkerchief.', 
 And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 
 Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears: 
 Yea, even my foes will shed fast falling tears. 
 And say, — Alas, it was a piteous deed I — 
 'J'here, take the crown, and with the crown, my curse, 
 And, in thy need, such comfort couie to thee. 
 As now I reap at thy too cruel hand I — 
 Hard fiearted Clillord, take me from the world; 
 My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads ! 
 
 North. Had he been slaughterman to all my kin. 
 I should not for my life bnt weep with him, 
 To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. 
 
 Q. Mar. Wliat, weepiiig-ripe, my lord Northum- 
 berland ! 
 Think but upon the wrong he did us all. 
 And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. 
 
 Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's 
 
 death. [Stabbing him.) 
 
 Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-iieaited 
 
 king. [Stabbing him.) 
 
 York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God 1 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 443 
 
 My soul flies (hrousrh Ihese wouijds to seek out thee. 
 
 {Dies.) 
 
 Q. Mar. Ofif with his heaJ,andset itoii York gates; 
 
 So York may overlook ilie town of York. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Plnin near Mortimer's Cross in 
 Herefordshire. 
 
 Drum. Enter Vjn\\\v.o, and Richxrd, tvit/i their 
 Forces, inarching. 
 
 Ediv. I wonder, how our princely father 'scap'd ; 
 Or whttlier he he 'scap''.! away, or no, 
 l-'roiii Clitford's and Nortliumberlund's pursuit : 
 Had lie been ta'en, we slioulii have iieard the news ; 
 Had he beeji slain, we should ha\e heard tht news; 
 Or, had lie 'scap'd, niethinks, we should have heard 
 The happy tidings of his good escape. — 
 How fares my brother? why is he so sad ? 
 
 Rich. 1 cannot joy, until I be resolv'd 
 VV^here our right valiant father is become. 
 I saw hiui in the battle range about ; 
 And watch'd him, how he snigled Cliflbrd forth. 
 Metliought, he bore him in the thickest troop, 
 -As doth a lion in a herd of neat : 
 Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; 
 ^V'ho having pinch'd a few, and made them cry 
 The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
 Si( far'd our father with his enemies; 
 So fled his enemies my warlike father: 
 Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. 
 See iiow the morning opes her golden gates. 
 And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! 
 How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
 Tiimui'd like a younker, prancing to his love ! 
 
 Ediv. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three snns? 
 
 Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a jjerfect sun ; 
 Not separated with the racking clouds, 
 Hut sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. 
 See, see I they join, embrace, and seem to kiss. 
 As if tiiey vow'd some league inviolable: 
 iN,,w are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. 
 I.I this the heaven figures some event. [heard of. 
 
 Kdw. "I'is wondrous strange, the like yet never 
 I think, it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
 That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, 
 iia<;h one already blazing by our meeds. 
 Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, 
 .And overshine the earth, as this the world. 
 Wiiate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
 Upon my target throe fair shining suns. 
 
 Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ; — by your leave 
 I speak it. 
 Von love the breeder better than the male. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel 
 Some dreadt'irl story hanging on tliy tongue i* 
 
 Mess. All, one that was a woeful looker on, 
 When as tlie noble duke of York was slain, 
 V'oiir princely father, and my loving lord. [mnch. 
 
 Ediv. (), speak no more I for I have heard too 
 
 Rich. Say how he died, for 1 will hear it all. 
 
 Mess, liiivironed he was with many foes; 
 And stood against them as the hope of 'J'roy 
 Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy. 
 But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; 
 .And many strokes, though with a little axe. 
 Hew down and fell the liardest-timber'd oak. 
 By many hands your father was subdu'd ; 
 But only slaugliter'd by the ireful arm 
 Of unrelentino- Clillbrd, and the queen : 
 Who crown'd the gracious iiuke in high despite ; ' 
 Laiigh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, 
 'J'lxe ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 
 A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
 Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clill'ord slain : 
 And, after many scorns, many foul taunts. 
 They took his head, aud on the gates of York 
 They set tiie same ; and there it doth remain, 
 
 The saddest spectacle that e'er 1 view'd. 
 
 Ediv. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean npoft. 
 
 Now tl oil art gone, we have no staff, no stay ! 
 
 O Clifford, boist'nius Clifford, thou hast slain 
 
 The flower of Europe for his chivalry; 
 
 And treacherously hast thou \aiiquisli'd him. 
 
 For, hand to hand, he would have vaiiquish'd thee I— 
 
 Now my smd's palace is become a prison : 
 
 Ah, wrjuld she break froui hence ! that this my bodj 
 
 Might in the ground be closed up in rest : 
 
 For never henceforth shall 1 joy again, 
 
 Never, O Never, shall I see more joy. 
 
 Rich. 1 cannot weep; for all my body's moisture 
 Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: 
 Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden ; 
 For self san>e wind that I should speak withal. 
 Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, 
 And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench. 
 To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: 
 Tears, then, for babes ; blows, and revenge, for me I — 
 Richard, I bear thy name, I')' venge tliy death. 
 Or die renowned by attempting it. [thee ; 
 
 Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with 
 His dukedom and his chair with me is left. 
 
 Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, 
 Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : 
 For chair and dukedom, throne aud kingdom say ; 
 Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 
 
 March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with 
 
 Forces. 
 
 War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what 
 news abroad ? 
 
 Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount 
 Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, 
 St^b poniards in our flesh, till all were told, 
 The words would add more anguish than the wounds. 
 
 valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 
 
 Ediv. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, 
 Which held thee dearly, as his soul's rednnplion. 
 Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. 
 
 War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears : 
 .And now, to add more measure to your wots, 
 
 1 come to tell voii things since then befall'n. 
 After the blootly fray at Wakefield fought. 
 Where your bra\e father breath'd his latest gasp. 
 Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, 
 
 W ere brought me of your loss, and his depart. 
 I then in London, keeper of the king, 
 Mustcr'd my soldiers, gather'd llocks of friends. 
 And very well appointed, as I thought, [queen, 
 
 March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the 
 Bearing the king in my behalf along. 
 For by my scouts I was advertised. 
 That she was coming with a full intent 
 To dash our late decree in parliament. 
 Touching king Henry's oath, and your succession. 
 Short tale to make, — we at Saint Albans met, 
 Our battles joiii'd, and both sides fiercely fought ; 
 But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king. 
 Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen. 
 That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen ; 
 Or whether 'twas report of her success ; 
 Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour. 
 Who thunders to his captives — blood and death. 
 I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth. 
 Their weapons like to lightning came and went; 
 Our soldiers — like the night-owl's lazy flight. 
 Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, — 
 Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. 
 I cheer'd them up witii justice of our cause, 
 With promise of liigh pay, and great rewards: 
 But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight, 
 And we, in them, no hope to win the day. 
 So that we fled; the king, unto the queen; 
 Lord George your biothrr, Norfolk, and myself 
 In haste, post haste, are come to join with you ; 
 For in the marches here, we heard you were, 
 Making another head to fight again. 1 WarwIrV ? 
 Edu). Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle 
 
iU 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act II. 
 
 An<l when came Gcorg-e from Burgundy to England ? 
 War. Sonie six miles off the duke is with the 
 s'jldiers ; 
 And fi)r your brother, — he was lately sent 
 From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, 
 VVith aid of soldiers to this needful war. [fled : 
 
 Rich. 'Twasodds, belike, when valiant Warwick 
 Oft have I heard his praises iu pursuit. 
 But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. [hear: 
 War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou 
 For thou shall know, this strong right iiand of mine 
 Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, 
 .^nd wring the awful sceptre froui his fist; 
 Were he as famous and as bold in war, 
 ^s he is fam'd for miiduess, peace, and prayer. 
 
 Ric/i. I know it well, lord Warwick; biauie me not; 
 'Tis lo\e, I bear thy glories, makes me SL»^ak. 
 Hut. in tliis troublous time, what's to be done ? 
 Shall we go throw away our coats of steel. 
 And wrap our bodies iu black mourning gowns, 
 Nuuibering our A'e Maries with our beads? 
 Or shall we on the helmets of our foes 
 'J'ell our devotion witii revengeful arms? 
 If lor the last, say — Ay, and to it, lords. [out; 
 
 War Why, Uierefoie Warwick came to seek you 
 And tiierefore comes my brother Montague. 
 Atteiid me, lords. The proud insulting queen. 
 With Clillord and tlie liaught Northumberland, 
 And (if their feather many more proud birds. 
 Have wrought llie easy-melting king like wax, 
 He swote consent to your succession, 
 His cath tnroll-'d in the parliauient; 
 And now to London all the crew are gone. 
 To frustrate botii his oath , and what beside 
 May make against the Imuse of Lancaster. 
 T.'ieir power, I think, is thirty thousand strong : 
 Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, 
 VVith ail tile friends lliat lliou, bra\e earl of March, 
 Amongst the loving Welsiimen canst procure. 
 Will but ariiouot to five and twenty thousand. 
 Why, Via! to London we will march amain ; 
 And once agaifi bestride our ioaming steeds ; 
 And once again cry — Charge upon our foes ! 
 lint np\er once again tiiin back, and fly. [speak: 
 Jlic/i. ,Ay, now, methinks, 1 hear great Warwick 
 Ne'er may lie live to see a sunshine day, 
 That cries — Retire, if Warwick hid him stay. 
 
 EUw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean : 
 And when tliou lall'st, (as God forbid the hour!) 
 Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend ! 
 
 War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; 
 The next degree is, England's royal throne : 
 For king of England shalt tliou be proclaim'd 
 In every borough as we pass along; 
 And he, tliat throws not up his cap for jov, 
 Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. 
 King Edward, — valiant Richard, — Montague, — 
 Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, 
 But sound the trumpets, and about our task. 
 Ric/i. Then, Clilltird, were tliy heart as hard as 
 steel, 
 
 !As thou hast shewn it flinty by thy deeds,) 
 come to pierce it, — or to give thee mine. 
 EJtv. Tlien strike up, drums: — God, and Saint 
 George, for us I 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 War. How now ? what news ? 
 
 Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by ine, 
 The q!ieen is coming with a puissant host; 
 And craves yourcom|iany for speedy counsel. 
 
 War. Why then it sorts, brave warriors : Let's 
 away. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene H. — Before York: 
 Enter Kinrj Henry, Queen Margarkt, the Prince 
 a/" \Va.i.es, Clipford, ««(/ Nortiiujiberland, 
 tvifh Forces. 
 
 Q. Mar. \Velcome, ray lord, to this brave town 
 •,fYork. 
 
 Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, 
 That sought to be .encompass'd with yonr crown : 
 Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lordV 
 K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them, that fear 
 their wreck ; — 
 To see this sight, it irks my very soul, — 
 Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault. 
 Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow. 
 
 Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity 
 And harmful pity, must be laid aside. 
 To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? 
 Not to the beast that would usurp their den. 
 Whose hand is that the forest hear doth lick ? 
 Not his, that spoils her young before her face. 
 Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? 
 Not he, that sets his foot uixm her back.- 
 The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; 
 And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. 
 Ambitious York did level at tliy crown, 
 Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows: 
 He, but a duke, would iiave his son a king, 
 And raise his issue, like a lo\ing sire; 
 'I'liou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son. 
 Didst yield consent to disinherit iiiiii. 
 Which argued thee a most unloving father 
 Unreasonable creatures feed their young: 
 And though man's face be fearful to their eyes. 
 Yet, in protection of their tender ones, 
 Who hath not seen them (even with those wings 
 Wliich sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,) 
 Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, 
 Olfering their own lives in their young's defence ? 
 For shame , my liege , make them your precedent 
 Were it not pity , that this goodly boy 
 Should lose liis birthright by his father's fault; 
 .And long hereafter say unto his child, — 
 Whattny <jreat-<jrandjatker and fjrandsire got, 
 
 Mij careless father fondly gave avay ! 
 
 All, what a sliame were tiiis i Look on the boy ; 
 
 And let his manly face, which proinis. th 
 
 Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart. 
 
 To hold thine own, and lea\ e thine own with him. 
 K. Hen. Full well hath Clillord play'd tlie orator 
 
 Inferring arguments of mighty force. 
 
 But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, — 
 
 'Ihat things ill got had exer bad success"!* 
 
 And happy always was it for that son. 
 
 Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ? 
 
 I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ; 
 
 And 'would my father had left me no more ! 
 
 For all the rest is held at such a rate. 
 
 As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, 
 
 'I'han in possession any jot of pleasure. 
 
 Ah, cousin York ! 'would thy best friends did know. 
 
 How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! 
 Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes 
 are nigh, 
 
 And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 
 
 You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; 
 
 Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. — 
 
 Edward, kneel down. 
 
 K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight: 
 
 And learn this lesson, — Draw thy sword in right 
 Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leavei 
 
 I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, 
 
 And in that quarrel use it to the death. 
 
 Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness ; 
 For, with a band of thirty thousand men. 
 Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York ; 
 And, in the towns as thf y do march along, 
 Proclaims him king, and many fly to hiui : 
 Darraign your battle, for lliey are at h iiid. 
 
 Clif. I vvonld, vonr highness would depart tlie 
 field ; 
 Tlie queen liath best snci-ess, when you are absent, 
 Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us lo our 
 fortune. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 445 
 
 K. Hen. Whf, tfcat'g ray fortune too; therefore 
 
 I'll stay. 
 North. Be it with resohition then to fisfht. 
 Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, 
 All! lieHrten those thai iight in your defence : 
 UiisheMth your sworJ, good father; cry Saint 
 Ceorrje ! 
 
 i>/«/-r//.i?H/er Edward, George, Riciivrd, War- 
 wick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. 
 
 , Edw. Now, perjiir"d Henry, wilt thou lined for 
 .\w\ sft thy diailem upon my liead : [grace, 
 
 Oi- hiiip the mortal fortune of tiie field ? (boy ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Oo, rate ttiy minions, proud insulting 
 Becomes it thee to be thus bold in tf rnis, 
 Before thy sovereign, and thy lawlnl king? 
 
 Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee ; 
 I was adopted heir by his consent : 
 Since when, his oath is broke ; foi , as I hear, 
 Vou — that are king, though he do wear the crown, — 
 Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament, 
 To blot out me, and put his own son in. 
 
 Clif. And reason too ; 
 Wlio shoidd succeed the father, but the son? 
 
 Rick. Are you there, butcher ? — O, I cannot 
 speak ! [thee, 
 
 Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer 
 Or any he the proudest of thy sort, [it not ? 
 
 Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was 
 
 Clif. .Ay, and old Vork, and yet not satisfied. 
 
 Rich. Vor God s sake, lords, give signal to the 
 fi-lit. 
 
 War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield 
 the crown ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongti'd Warwick? 
 dare you speak ? 
 When you and I met at Saint Albans last. 
 Your legs did better service than your hands. 
 
 War. Then 'twas my turn to tly, and now 'tis thine. 
 
 Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled. 
 
 War. 'Twas not your valour, Clilford, drove me 
 thence. [you stay. 
 
 North. No, nor your manhood, that dm-st make 
 
 Rich. Northnmberlatid, I hold thee reverently; — 
 Break olf the parle ; for scarce I can refrain 
 The execution of n)y big-svvolen heart 
 Upon that Clillbrd, that cruel chilii-killer. 
 
 Clif. I slew thy father : Call'st thou him a child ? 
 
 Ric/i, Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous 
 coward. 
 As thou di 1st kill onr tender brother Rutland; 
 But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. 
 
 K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and 
 hear me speak, (lips. 
 
 Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold clrise thy 
 
 K. Hen. I pr'ytiiee, give no limits to my tongue ; 
 I am a ki:]g, and privileg'd to speak. [here, 
 
 Ct'if. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting 
 Cannot he curd by words ; therefore be still. 
 
 Rich. Then, executioner, uusheath thy sword : 
 By Him tiiat made ns ail, I am resolv'd, 
 Tnat Cliiford's manhood lies upon his tongue. 
 
 Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have n)y right, or uo ? 
 .A thousm 1 men have broke their fasts to-day. 
 That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. 
 
 War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head ; 
 For Yoik injustice puts his armour on. [right, 
 
 Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is 
 There is no wrong, but every thing is right. 
 
 Rich. Whoever got thee, there tiiy mother stands ; 
 For, well 1 wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. 
 
 Q. Mar. B'lt thou art neither like thy sire nor dam ; 
 But like a foul mis-shapen stiginatic, 
 Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, 
 As veiium toads, or lizards' dreadfid stings. 
 
 Rich. lion of Naples, hid with English gilt. 
 Whose father bears tlie title of a king, 
 (As II ;■, cii lunel should be cali'd the sea,) 
 anam st tliou not, knowing whence thou art ex- 
 traught, ' 
 
 To let thy tongne detect thy base-bora heart ? 
 
 Ediv. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand 
 crowns, 
 
 To make this shameless callet know herself. 
 
 Helen of Greece was fiiirer far than thou, 
 
 Altliouuh thy husband may be INIenelaus; 
 
 -And ne'er was A;;ameumon's brother wrong'd 
 
 By that false woman, as this king by thee. 
 
 His father revell'd in the heart of France, 
 
 And tain'd the king, and made the Dau|)hin stoop; 
 
 And, had he niatcti'd according to his state, 
 
 He might have kept that glory to this day : 
 
 But, when he took a beggar to his bed, ' 
 
 .And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day ; 
 
 Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for iiim, 
 
 That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, 
 
 And lieap'd sedition on his crown at home. 
 
 For what hath broach'd this tmnult, but tliy i)ride ? 
 
 Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; 
 
 And we, in pity of the gentle king, 
 
 Had slipp'd our claim until another age. [spring, 
 
 Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy 
 And that thy summer bred us no increase. 
 We set the axe to thy usurping root; 
 And though the edge hath softiething hit ourselves ,• 
 \ et now thou, since we have begun to strike. 
 We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, 
 Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 
 
 Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee ; 
 Not willing any longer conference. 
 Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak. — 
 Sound trumpets ! — let our bloody colours wave — 
 And either victory, or else a grave. 
 
 Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. [stay : 
 
 Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we'll no longer 
 These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 
 
 [Exettnt. 
 
 Scene III.— A Field of Battle between Towtonand 
 Saxton, in Yorkshire. 
 
 Alarums : Excursions. Enter Warwick. 
 
 War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, 
 I lay me down a little while to brea#ie ; 
 For strokes receiv'd,and many blows re|)aid. 
 Hav e robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength. 
 And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. 
 
 Enter Edward, running. 
 
 Edw. Smile, gentle heaven ! or strike, ungentle 
 
 death ! 
 For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. 
 War. How now, my lord ? what liap ? what hope 
 
 of good ? 
 
 Enter George. 
 
 Geo. Our hap is lost, our hope but sad despair • 
 Our ranks are broke, and ruin (bllows as : 
 What counsel give you, whither shall we fly ? 
 
 Edw, Bootless is flight, they follow ns with wings; 
 And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. 
 
 Enter Ricflard. 
 
 Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn 
 thyself? 
 Thy brotlier's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, 
 Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance. 
 And, in the very pangs of death, he cry'd, — 
 Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, — 
 Warwick, revenge .' brother, revenge my death ! 
 So underneath the belly of their steeds. 
 That stain'd their fetlocks in his smo'iiiiig blood, 
 The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. [blood : 
 
 W^ar. Then let the earth be drunken with our 
 I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. 
 Why stand we like soft hearted women here. 
 Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; 
 And look upon, as if the tragedy 
 Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? 
 Here on my knee 1 vow to God above, 
 I'll never pause again, never stand still, 
 Till either death hath cius'd these eyes of mine. 
 
146 
 
 THIRD PART OP 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Or fortune given me measure of revenge. 
 
 EdiO. VVarwick, I do bend my knee with thine; 
 And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.— 
 And, ere my knee rise from the enrth's cold face, 
 I throw my hands, mine eyes, my lienrt to thee. 
 Thou setter np and phicker down of kings ! 
 Beseeching tliee,— if with thy will it stands, 
 'I'hat to my foes this body must he prey, — 
 Yet that thy brazen gates of iieaxen may ope. 
 And give sweet passage to my sinl'ul soul ! — 
 Now, lords, take leave, until we meet again, 
 Where-e'er it he, in heaven, or on earth. 
 
 Ric/i. Brotlier, give nie thy hand ;— and, gentle 
 Warwick, 
 Let me embrace thee in my weai^ arms : — 
 I, that did never weep, now melt with woe. 
 That winter should cut off om- spring-time so. 
 
 War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, 
 farewell. 
 
 Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, 
 And give them leave to ily, that will not stay ; 
 And call them pillars, that will stand to us ; 
 And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards 
 As victors wear at the. Olympian games : 
 This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ; 
 For yet is hope of life, and victory. — 
 Fore-slow no longer, make we hence amain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. Another part of the Field. 
 
 Excursions. Enter Rich.vrd and Clifford. 
 
 Rich. Now, Clift'ord, I have singled thee alone : 
 Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, 
 And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, 
 Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. 
 
 Clif. Now, Richard, I aui with thee here alone : 
 This is the hand, that stahbVl thy father York ; 
 And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rutland ; 
 And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death. 
 And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and bro- 
 ther, 
 To execute the like upon thyself; 
 And so, iiave ^ thee. 
 
 [They fight. WARWICK enters; Clifford //es.) 
 
 liich. Nay, Warwick, single out sonu other chase; 
 For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Y.— Another Part of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter King Henry. 
 K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war. 
 When dying clouds contend with growing light; 
 What time the shepiierd, blowing of his nails. 
 Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. 
 Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 
 Foi c'd by the tide to combat with the wind ; 
 Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea ; 
 Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : 
 Sometime, the flood prevails ; and then, the wind ; 
 Now, one the better; then, another best; 
 llotii tugging to be victors, breast to breast. 
 Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : 
 So is the eq'.ial poise of this fell war. 
 Here on tliis molehill will I sit me down. 
 To whom God will, there be the victory ! 
 For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too. 
 Have cliid me from the battle ; swearing both, 
 They prosijer best of all when I am thence. 
 'Would 1 were dead ! if God's good will were so: 
 For what is in this world, but grief and woe ? 
 O God ! methinks, it were a happy life, 
 'I'o he no better than a homely swaii ; 
 To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 
 To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
 Thereby to see the minutes, how they riin* 
 How many make the hour full complete, 
 How many hours bring about the day. 
 How many days will finish up the year. 
 How many years a mortal man may live. 
 When this is known, then to divide the times: 
 So muuv hours must I tend my flock ; 
 So mauy horns must I take my rest; 
 
 So many hours must I contemplate , 
 
 So many hours must I s|)(irt myself; _ 
 
 So many days my ewes have been with young; 
 
 So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 
 
 So many years ere I shall shear the fleece; 
 
 So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 
 
 Pass'd o\ er to the end they were created. 
 
 Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
 
 Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovt-lv ! 
 
 Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
 
 To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
 
 Than doth a rich emhroider'd canopy 
 
 To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? 
 
 O, yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. 
 
 And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, 
 
 His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
 
 His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shad.-. 
 
 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
 
 Is far beyond a prince's delicates. 
 
 His viands sparkling in a golden cup. 
 
 His body couched in a curious bed, 
 
 When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 
 
 Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father, 
 dragging in the dead body. 
 
 Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody. — 
 This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight. 
 May be possessed with some store of crowns : 
 And I, that haply take them from him now. 
 May yet, ere night, yield both my life and them 
 To some man else, as this dead man doth me. — 
 Who's this? — O God I it is my father's face. 
 Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. 
 O heavy times, begetting such events! 
 Fiom London by tlie king was I press'd forth ; 
 My fatiier, being the earl of Warwick's man. 
 Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; 
 And I, v\ ho at his hands receiv'd my life, 
 Have by my hands of life bereaved him. — 
 Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did I — 
 And pardon, fither, for I knew not thee ! — 
 My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks . 
 And no more words, till they have flowVl their fiil. 
 
 K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times ' 
 Whilst lions war, and battle for tlieir deiis. 
 Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. — 
 Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; 
 And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war. 
 Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grii f 
 
 Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with 
 the body in his arms. 
 
 Fath. Thou, that so stoutly hast resisted me. 
 Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: 
 For I have bought it with an hundred blows. — 
 But let me .see : — is this our foeman's face i 
 Ah, no, no, it is mine only son ! — 
 Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, 
 Throw up thine eye ; see, see, what showers arise. 
 Blown with the windy tempest of my heart. 
 Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart I — 
 O, pity, God, this miserable age ! — 
 What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, 
 Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, 
 This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! — 
 O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon. 
 And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! 
 
 A. Hen. Woe above woe ! grief mure than com- 
 mon grief! 
 O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds ! — 
 O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity ! — 
 The red rose and the white are on his face, 
 'I'he fatal colours of our striving houses : 
 The one, his purple blood right well resembles ; 
 The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : 
 Wither oi.ie rose, and let the other flourish ! 
 If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. 
 
 Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, 
 Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? 
 
 Fath. How will my wife, for sla-iphterof my son, 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 KING HENRY VL 
 
 447 
 
 Slied spns of tears, nnd ne'er lie satisfied? 
 K. Hen. How will trie cotiiitrv, for these woeful 
 chances, 
 I\lis tliink the kinj, and not be safisfied? 
 Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death ? 
 ¥nth. \Vas ever fatlier, so beiiioan'd a son? 
 K. Hen. Was ever king', sogriev'd for subjects' 
 woe ? 
 IMiich is jour sorrow ; mine, ten times so mnch. 
 So7i. ril hear thee lience, wliere I may weep my 
 fill. [Exit, with thf, body. 
 
 Fat/i. These arms of mine shall be thy winding- 
 sheet ; 
 My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sennlchre ; 
 For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. 
 My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell : 
 And so obsequious will thy father be, 
 Sad for the loss of thee, having no more. 
 As Priam was for all his valiant sons. 
 I'll bear thee hence : and let them fight that will, 
 For I have murder'd where I should not kill. 
 
 [Exit, with the body. 
 K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with 
 care, 
 Here sits a king more woeful than you are. 
 
 Alarums: Excnrsions. Enter Qiiee7t Mx^gxret, 
 Prince of Wales, and Exeter. 
 
 Prince. Fly, father, fly ! for all your friends are 
 And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : (fled. 
 
 Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick 
 post awain : 
 Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds. 
 Having the fearful flying hare in sight. 
 With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath. 
 And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands. 
 Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. 
 
 Exe. Away ! for ven;iennx;e comes along with them: 
 Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; 
 Or else come after, I'll away before. [Exeter; 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, take me wilh thee, good sweet 
 Not that I fear to stay, but lo\ e to go 
 Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away I 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — The same. 
 
 A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford, wounded. 
 
 C/if. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, 
 Wliich, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. 
 Lancaster I I fear tliy overthrow. 
 More than my body's parting with my soul. 
 My lo^p, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee ; 
 Aiifl now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. 
 FiMpiiiriiig Henry, streiigth'ning mis-proud Yoik. 
 'I'iie coiMuion people s^^arm like summer flies . 
 And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ? 
 And who shines now but Henry's enemies? 
 
 PliwHus! hadst thou never given consent 
 'F'hnt Fhuhton should check thy fiery steeds, 
 Tliy burning car never had scorch'd the earth: 
 •Villi Henry, had'st thou sway'd as kings should do. 
 Or rts thy father, and his father, did, 
 
 (Ji\ itig no ground unto the house of York, 
 Tiiey never then had sj^ruMg like summer flies; 
 I. arid ten thousand in this luckless realm, 
 11:1(1 left no mourning widows for our death. 
 Ami thou tins day hadst kept thy chair in peace. 
 I'lir what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air? 
 And what makeS robbers bold, but too much lenity? 
 Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; 
 No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight- 
 The foe is merciless, and will not pity ; 
 For, at their hands, i have deserv'd no pity. 
 'I'he air hath got into my deidly wounds. 
 .\nd niucli elluse of blood doth make me faint: — 
 Come, York, and Richard, W^arwick. and the rest ; 
 
 1 siabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. 
 
 [He Joints. 
 
 Alarum and retreat. Enter Edwakd, Geohge, 
 Richard, Montague, Warwick, and Sold itrs. 
 
 Edw. Now Breathe we, lords ; good fortune bids 
 ns pause. 
 And smooth thefrownsof war with peacefid looks. — 
 Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ; — 
 'i'hat led calm Henry, though he were a king, 
 As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust. 
 Command an argosy to stem the waves. 
 Rut think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them ? 
 
 War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : 
 For, though before his face I speak the words. 
 Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave : 
 And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. 
 
 [Clifford groans, and dies.) 
 
 Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy 
 leave ? 
 
 Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de- 
 parting. 
 
 Edw. See who it is, and, now the battle's ended, 
 If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. [liird ; 
 
 Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clif- 
 VVho, not contented that he lopp'd the branch 
 In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth. 
 But set his murdering knife unto the root 
 From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, 
 I mean our princely father, duke of York. ' [head, 
 ^ War. From off the gates of York fetch down the 
 Y'our father's head, which Clifford placed there; 
 Instead whereof, let this supply the room ; 
 Measure for measure must be answered. ' [house, 
 
 Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our 
 That nothing sung but death to us and ours: 
 Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, 
 And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 
 
 [Attendants bring the body forward.) 
 
 War. I think his understanding is bereft : — 
 Speak, Clifford, dost tliou know who speaks to 
 
 thee?— 
 Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life. 
 And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. 
 
 Rich. O, 'would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth; 
 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit. 
 Because he would avoid such bitter fannt;*, 
 Which in the time of death he gave our father. 
 
 Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words 
 
 Rich. Cliftbrd, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. 
 
 Ediv. Clitford, repent in bootless penitence. 
 
 TFar. Clilford, devise excuses for thy faults. 
 
 Ceo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. 
 
 Rich. 'I'hou didst love^ ork, and I am son to York. 
 
 Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. 
 
 Geo. Where's captain Marg.aret, to fence you now ? 
 
 ff" ar. They mock thee, Cliftbrd ! swear as thou 
 wast wont. 
 
 Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world 
 goes hard. 
 When Clitford cannot spare his friends an oath ; — 
 I know by that, he's dead ; And, by my soul. 
 If this right hand would buy two hours' life, 
 That 1 in all desjiite might rail at him, [blood 
 
 Tliis hand should chop it off; and with the issuing 
 Stifle the villain, whose nnslaunched thirst 
 York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
 
 War. Ay, but he's dead : Olf with the traitor's 
 head. 
 And rear it in the place your father's stands. — 
 And now to Ijondon with triumphant march. 
 There to be crowned England s royal king. 
 From whence sh:ill Warwick cut tiie sea to France, 
 And ask the lady Bona for tliy queen ; 
 So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; 
 And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread 
 I'he scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again ; 
 For though they cannot greatly sting io hurt, 
 ^ et look to have them buz, to offend thiue ears. 
 First, will I see the coronation; 
 And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, 
 'J'o eflect this marriage, so it please my lord. 
 
us 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 Eciw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: 
 For on thy shoulder do I build my scat ; 
 And never will I nndertake the thing, 
 Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. — 
 Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster; — 
 And Georjre of Clarence: — Warwick, as ourself, 
 SliMJl do, and undo, as liini pleaseth best. 
 
 R/c/i. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of 
 Glo^t.er ; 
 For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 
 
 War. 'I'ut, that's a foolish observation ; 
 Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, 
 To see these honours in uossession. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IIL 
 
 Scene I.— ^ Chase in the North of England. 
 
 Enter Two Keepers, with cross-Oows in their 
 
 hands. 
 
 1 Keep. Under this thick grown brake we'll 
 
 -sijroud ourselves; 
 For through this laund anon the deer will come : 
 And in this covert will we make our stand. 
 Culling the principal of all the deer. 
 
 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may 
 
 shoot. [bow 
 
 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross- 
 Will scare the lieril, and so my shoot is lost. 
 Here stand we both, and aim we at the best; 
 And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 
 
 I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, 
 
 In this sell'-place, where now we mean to stand. 
 
 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be 
 
 past. 
 
 Enter King Henry, disgtiised,iuith a prayer-book. 
 K. Hen. From Scotland am 1 stol'n, even of 
 pine love. 
 To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 
 No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ; 
 'I'hy place is tilld, thy sceptre wrung from thee, 
 1 hy balm wash'd olf, where with thou wast anointed : 
 No bending knee will call thee Cwsar now, 
 No hinnble suitors press to speak for right, 
 No, not a niau comes for redress of thee ; 
 For how c!in I help them, and not myself? 
 
 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's 
 
 fee : 
 This is the qnondam king; let's seize upon him. 
 
 K. Hen. Let nie embrace these som- adversities; 
 For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 
 
 2 Keep. Why linger we ! let us lay hands upon 
 
 him. [more. 
 
 ] Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little 
 K. Hen. I\Iy q-ieen, and son, are gone to France 
 lor aid ; 
 And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 
 Is thither gone, to crave the French king's si^Kct 
 To wife for Edward. If tiiisnevvs be true. 
 Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost; 
 For \V arwick is a subtle orator. 
 And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. 
 By this account, then, Margaret may win him; 
 For she's a woman to be pitied nuich : 
 Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; 
 Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; 
 Tlie tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn ; 
 And Nero will be tainted with remorse. 
 To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. 
 Ay, but slies i;ome to beg ; Warwick, to give : 
 She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry ; 
 He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. 
 Siie weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd ; 
 He smiles, and says — his Edward is installd; 
 I hat she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more : 
 Vvhiles 'iV arwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, 
 Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ; 
 And, in conclusion, wins tlie king from her, 
 Witt) promise of his sister, and what else. 
 To strengthen and support king Edward's place. 
 O Margaret, thus 'twifl be ; and thou, poor soul, 
 
 Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. 
 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings 
 and queens? [born to: 
 
 K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was 
 A man at least, for less I should not be ; 
 And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? 
 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a 
 king. [enough. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind ; and that's 
 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? 
 K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; 
 Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indinn stones. 
 Nor to be seen ; my crown is call'd, content ; 
 A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 
 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king, crown'd with 
 content. 
 Your crown content, and you, must be contented 
 'i'o go along vvitii us: for as we think, 
 \ou are tlie king, king Edward hath depos'd; 
 And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, 
 Will apprehend you as his enemy. (oath 
 
 K. Hen, But did you never swear, and break an 
 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will nut 
 
 now. 
 A. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king 
 
 of England ? 
 2 Keep. Here iu this country, where we now 
 
 remain. 
 K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old ; 
 My futlier and my grandfather were kings ; 
 Ami you were sworn true subjects unto me ; 
 And tell me then, have you not broke your oaths '? 
 
 I Keep. No; 
 For we were subjects, but while you were king. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, am 1 dead ? do I not breathe a man? 
 Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. 
 Look, as I blow this feather from my face. 
 And as tlie air blows it to me again, 
 Obeying vvitii my wind when 1 do blow. 
 And jielding to another when it blows, 
 Conimaiided always by the greater gust; 
 Such is the lightness of you common men. 
 But do not break your oaths ; tor, of that sin 
 My mild entreaty shall not make yciu guilty. 
 Go where you will, the king shall be coiiiinanded ; 
 And lie jou king's; command, and I'll obey. 
 
 1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, kirg 
 
 Edward. 
 A". Hen. So would you be again to Henry, 
 If he weie seated as kl g Edward is. 
 
 I Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in 
 the king's. 
 To go with us u.ito the officers. 
 
 K. Hen. In God s name, lead ; your king's name 
 be obey'd: 
 And i^liat Gud will, then let your king perform 
 And what he will, 1 humbly yield unto. [Exeurt. 
 
 Scene II. — London. A Room tn the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and 
 Lady Grey. 
 
 K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field 
 This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain. 
 His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror: 
 Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; 
 Which we injustice cannot well deny. 
 Because in quarrel of the house of York 
 The worthy gentleman did lose his life. 
 
 Glo. Your highness shall do well to gra,nt her 
 It were dishonour, to deny it her. '.suit ; 
 
 K.Edw. It were no less; but yef I'll make a |>aii.->e 
 
 (Jlo. Yea ! is it so? {Aside to Clarence. i 
 
 I see the lady hath a thing to grant. 
 Before the king will grant her humble suit. 
 
 Clar. He knows the game; How true he keeps 
 the wind ? [Aside f 
 
 Glo. Silence! . [Asiae., 
 
 K.Edw. Widow, we will consider of your sun j 
 And come some other time, to know oar mind. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 149 
 
 Id. Gnu. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook 
 
 Uc'lay : 
 May it pleasK your highness to resolve me now ; 
 And wiiat your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. 
 Glo. [Aside.) Ay, widow? Uien I'll warrant yon 
 
 all your lands, 
 An if what pleases hini, shall pleasure you. 
 Fij;lit closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a i)Iow. 
 Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow '! 
 
 tell me. 
 Clar. I think, he means to beg a child'ofher. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 Glo. Nay, whip me then ; he'll rather give her 
 
 t"o-^ (Aside.) 
 
 L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. 
 Glo. V ou shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by 
 
 liim. (Aside.) 
 
 K. Edw. 'Twere pity, they should lose their la- 
 ther's land. 
 L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it 
 
 tlien. [wit. 
 
 K. Edw. Lords, give us leave ; I'll try this widow's 
 aio. Ay, good leave have you ; for you will have 
 
 leave, 
 Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. 
 (Glosfer and Ularencit retire to the other side. ) 
 K. lien. Now tell me, madam, do you love your 
 
 children? 
 h. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. 
 K.. Edw. And would you not do much, to do them 
 
 good i [harm. 
 
 Li. Grey. 'I'o do them good, I would sustain some 
 K Edw. Tlien get your husband's lands, to do 
 
 them good. 
 L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. 
 K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be 
 
 got. [service. 
 
 L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' 
 K Edw. What Service wilt thou do me, if I give 
 
 them ? [to do. 
 
 L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me 
 A . Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon. 
 L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except 1 cannot doit. 
 K, Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean 
 
 to ask. [commands. 
 
 L.Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace 
 Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain weais the 
 
 marble. (Aside.) 
 
 Clar. As red as fire ! nay, then her wax must 
 
 ">*-lt (Aside.) 
 
 L. Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear 
 
 n)y task'? 
 A. Edw. An easy task ; 'tis but to love a king. 
 L. Grey. Thnl's soon perform'd, because I am 
 
 a subject. 
 K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands 1 freely 
 
 give thee. 
 L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand 
 
 thanks. _ [curt'sy. 
 
 Glo. 'i'lie match is made ; she seals it with a 
 K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I 
 
 mean. [liege. 
 
 L. Grey, 'i'lie fruits of love I mean, my \o\ ing 
 K. Edw. Ay, but, i fear me, in another sense. 
 What love, tliink'st thou, I sue so much to get? 
 L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, 
 
 my prayers ; 
 That love, wiiicii virtue '.legs, and virtue grants. 
 K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such 
 
 !<'» e. [you did. 
 
 L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought 
 K. Edw. IJiit now you partly may peiceive my 
 
 mind. [ceive 
 
 L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I per- 
 Vonr liii,li;;ess ;tliiis at, if I aim aright. 
 K. Eiliu 'I'o tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. 
 
 L. Greij. To tell thee plain, I had rather lie in 
 
 prisim ; (band's lands. 
 
 K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy Ims- 
 
 L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my 
 
 (lower ; 
 
 For by that loss I will not purchase them. 
 
 K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy childien 
 mightily. _ [;nid me. 
 
 L.Grey. Hereiuyour highness wrongs both them 
 But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 
 Accords not with the sadness of my suit ; 
 Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no. 
 
 K. Edw. Ay ; ifthou wilt say ay, to my request : 
 No ; if thou dost say no, to my demand. [end. 
 
 L.Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an 
 Glo. 'i'he widow likes him not, she knits her 
 brows. (Aside.) 
 
 Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 K.Edw. (Aside.) Her looks do argue her replete 
 with modesty; 
 Her words do shew her wit incomparable ; 
 AH her perfections challenge sovereignty : 
 One way, or other, she is for a king ; 
 And she shall be my love, or else my queen. — 
 Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen ? 
 
 L. Grey. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious 
 I am a subject fit to jest withal, (lord : 
 
 But far iinht to be a sovereign. (thee 
 
 K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to 
 I speak no more than what my soul intends ; 
 And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. . 
 
 L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto ; 
 I know I am too mean to be your queen. 
 And yet too good to be your concubine. 
 
 K. Edw. \ ou cavil, widow ; I did mean, my 
 
 qu^en. 
 L. Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace, my sons should 
 
 call you — father. 
 K. Edw. No more, than when my daughters call 
 thee mother. 
 Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ; 
 And, by God's mother, I, being but a bacheh)r. 
 Have other some : why, 'tis a happy tiling 
 To be the father unto many sons. 
 Answer no more, lor thou shalt be ray queen. 
 Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twMS for 
 
 shift. (Aside.) 
 
 K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two 
 
 have had. 
 Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. 
 K. Edw. Y'ou'd think it strange, if I should 
 
 marry her. 
 Clar. To whom, my lord ? 
 K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. 
 
 Glo. Tliat would be ten days' wonder at the least. 
 Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 
 Glo, By so much is the wonder in extremes. 
 K.Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you 
 both. 
 Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. 
 
 Enter a Nobleman. 
 
 Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken. 
 And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. 
 
 K. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the 
 Tower : — 
 And go we, brothers, to the man that took him. 
 To question of his apprehension. — 
 Widow, go you along; — Lords, use her honourable. 
 [Exeunt King Edward, Lady Greyi 
 Clarence, and Lord. 
 
 Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. 
 Would he were wasted, marrow, bone.s, and all, 
 That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring. 
 To cross me from the golden time I look fori 
 And yet, between my soul's desire, and me, 
 (The lustful Edward's title buried,) 
 
 29 
 
450 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Is Clarence, Henry, nnd his son younj; EdwarJ, 
 
 And all the nnlook'd for issue of their bodies, 
 
 To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: 
 
 A cold premeditation for my pnrpose ! 
 
 Why, then I do Imt'dream on sovereignty : 
 
 Ijike one tiiat stands upon a promontory, 
 
 And spies n far-offshore, where he wonld tread, ' 
 
 Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ; 
 
 And ciiides the sea that sunders him from thence, 
 
 Saying — he'll lade it dry to have his way : 
 
 So do I wish the crown, being so far otf : 
 
 And so I chide the means, that keep me from it; 
 
 And so I say — 111 cut the causes otf. 
 
 Flattering me with impossibilities. — 
 
 My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweenstoo much. 
 
 Unless my hand and strength could equal them. 
 
 Well, say there is no kingdom then for Rirharji ; 
 
 What other pleasure can the world afford ? 
 
 I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, 
 
 And deck my body in gay ornaments. 
 
 And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 
 
 O miserable thought! and more unlikely, 
 
 'J'lian to accomplish twenty golden crowns! 
 
 Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : 
 
 And, for I should not deal in her soft laws. 
 
 She did corrupt Irail nature with some bribe 
 
 To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd slirnb; 
 
 To make an envious mountain on my back, 
 
 Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 
 
 To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 
 
 To disproportion me in every part, 
 
 Like to a chaos, or an uniick'd bear-whelp. 
 
 That carries no impression like the dam. 
 
 And am I then a man to be belov'd ? 
 
 O iuonstrous fault, to harbour such a thought I 
 
 Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, 
 
 But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 
 
 As are of better person than myself, 
 
 I'll make my heaven — to dream upon the crown ; 
 
 And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell. 
 
 Until my mis-shan'd trunk that bears this head, 
 
 Be round impaleu with a glorious crown : 
 
 And yet I know not how to get the crowu, 
 
 For many lives stand between me and home : 
 
 And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood, 
 
 'I'hat rents the thorns, and is rent with the thoiiis ; 
 
 Seeking a way, and straying fromthe way; 
 
 Not knowing how to find the open air. 
 
 But toiling desperately to find it out, — 
 
 1'orment myself to catch the English crown : 
 
 And from that torment I will free myself. 
 
 Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
 
 Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; 
 
 And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart ; 
 
 And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
 
 And frame my face to all occasions. 
 
 I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
 
 I'il slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 
 
 I'll play the orator as well as Nestor. 
 
 Deceive more slily than Ulysses could. 
 
 And, like a Sinon, take another Troy : 
 
 lean add colours to the cameleon i 
 
 Change shapes, with Protheus, for advancages. 
 
 And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. 
 
 Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? 
 
 Tut! were it further oft', I'll pluck it down. [Exit. 
 
 .Scene III. — France. A Room in the Palace. 
 Flourish. Enler Lewis t/ie French Kittfj, and 
 
 Lady Bona, attended; the Kin;/ takes his state. 
 
 Then enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward 
 
 her son, and the Earl o/'Okforo. 
 
 K. Leio. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar- 
 garet, [Rising.) 
 Sit down with ns ; it ill befits thy state 
 And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis 
 doth sit. [Margaret 
 
 Q, Mar. No, mighty king of France ; now 
 Must strike her sail, and learn a wliile to serve, 
 Where kings coramand. I was, I must confess. 
 
 Grent Albion's queen in former golden da"T^ ', 
 But now mischance hath trod my title down. 
 And with dishonour laid me on the ground ; 
 Where I nnist take like seat unto my fortune, 
 And to my h'imble seat conform myself. 
 
 K. Leiv. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs 
 this deep despair? 
 
 Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine ejo; 
 
 with tears, _ [ci>r;s. 
 
 And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in 
 
 K. iew. What'er it be, be thou still like thyself. 
 And sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck 
 
 [Seats her by him.) 
 To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 
 Still ride in triumph over all inichance. 
 Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; 
 It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief. 
 
 Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my droop- 
 ing thoughts, 
 And give uiy tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. 
 Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, — 
 That Henry, sole possessor of my love, 
 Is, of a king, become a banished man, 
 -And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ; 
 While proud ambitious Edward, duke of Yoik, 
 Usurps the regal title, and the seat 
 Of England's true-anointed lawful king. 
 This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret, — 
 With this my son, i)rince Edward, tienry's heir, — 
 Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ; 
 -And, if thou fail us, ail our hope is done: 
 Scotland hath will to iielp. but cannot help ; 
 Our people and our peers are both misled. 
 Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight. 
 And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight. 
 
 K. Leiv. Renowned queen, with patience calm 
 the storm, 
 VVhile we bethink a means to break it off. 
 
 Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows 
 our foe. (thee. 
 
 K. Letv. The more I stay, the more I'll succour 
 
 Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true 
 sorrow : 
 And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. 
 Enter Warwick, attended. 
 
 K. Letc. What's he, approiicheth boldly to our 
 presence? [friend. 
 
 Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest 
 
 K. Leiv. Welcome, braveWarwick ! What brings 
 thee to France ? 
 [Descending from his state. Queen Margaret 
 rises.) 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second st«rm to rise ; 
 For this is he, that moves both wind and tide. 
 
 War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion, 
 My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
 I come, — in kindness, and unfeigned love. 
 First, to do greetings to thy royal person ; 
 Aiid, then, to crave a league of amity ; 
 And, lastly, to confirm that amity 
 With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant 
 That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister. 
 To England's king in lawful marriage. 
 
 Q. Mar. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. 
 War. And, gracious madam, [to Bona.) in our 
 king's behalf, 
 I am commanded, with your leave and favour. 
 Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue 
 To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; 
 Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears. 
 Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. 
 
 Q. Mar. King Lewi.s, — and lady Bona, hear nw 
 speak. 
 Before you answer Warwick. His demand 
 Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest lovo. 
 But from deceit, bred by necessity: 
 For how can tvrants safely govern home. 
 Unless abroadthey purchase great alliance ? 
 To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice — 
 That Henry liveth still : but were he dead, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 *51 
 
 Y«;t here p'incfi EdwarH stands, kin^ Henry's son. 
 LuoR., itierernre. Lewis, that by this league and 
 
 marriage 
 Thou draw not on thy danger atul dishonour : 
 For tliotifjh usurpers sway the rule a while, 
 Vet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. 
 War. Injurious Margaret ! 
 
 Prince. And why not queen ? 
 
 War. Because thy father Henry did usurp ; 
 And thou no more art prince, than she is queen. 
 
 Oxf. Then Warwick disannuls great John oi 
 Ciaunt, 
 \Vhich did subdue the greatest part of Spain: 
 And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, 
 Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest : 
 And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, 
 Who by his prowess conquered all France : 
 From these our Henry lineally descends. 
 
 War. Oxford, how baps it, in this smooth dis- 
 course, 
 V'du told notj how Henry the Sixth hath lost 
 All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten? 
 Metliinks, these peers of France should smile at 
 Hut fur the rest, — You tell a pedigree [that. 
 
 Oi' threescore and two years ; a silly time 
 'I'o make prescription for a kingdom's vvorth. 
 
 Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against 
 thy liege, 
 Whom thou obey'dst thirty and six years, 
 And not bewray thy treason with a blush ? 
 
 War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right. 
 Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree ? 
 For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king. 
 
 Oxf. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom 
 My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere, 
 Was done to death ? and more than so, my father, 
 L^en in the downfall of his meliow'd years, 
 Wnen nature brought him to the door of death ? 
 No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, 
 Tliis arm upholds the house of Lancaster. 
 
 TVar. And I the house of York. 
 
 /v. Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, and 
 Ox lord, 
 V^DUclisafe, at our request, to stand aside, 
 Willie I use tiirther conference with Warwick. 
 
 Q. Mar. Heaven grant, that Warwick's words 
 bewitch him not! 
 [Retiring tvith the Prince and Oxford.) 
 
 K. Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon 
 , thy conscience, 
 [s Edward your true king? for I were loth 
 'I'o link with him that were not lawful chosen. 
 
 War. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. 
 
 K. Letv. But is he gracious in the people's eye ? 
 
 War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate, 
 
 K. Lew. Then further, all dissembling set aside, 
 Tell me for truth the measure of his love 
 Unto our sister Bona. 
 
 War. Such it seems. 
 
 As may beseem a monarch like himself. 
 Myself have often heard him say, and swear, — 
 That this his love was an eternal plant ; 
 Whereof the root was (ix'd in virtue's ground. 
 The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun; 
 Exempt from envy, but not from disdain. 
 Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. 
 
 K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. 
 
 Buna. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine : — 
 Yet I conl'ess, {(o War.) that often ere this day. 
 When I have heard yonr king's desert recounted. 
 Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. 
 
 K. Lew. Then, Warwick, thus, — Our sister shall 
 be Edward's ; 
 And now forthwith shall articles be drawn 
 rouching the jointure that your king must make, 
 Which with her dowry shall be couiiterpois'd : — 
 Draw near, queen Margaret ; and be a witness, 
 That Bona shall be wife to the English king. 
 
 Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king. 
 
 Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device 
 
 By this alliance to make void my suit; 
 Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend. 
 
 K. Leiv. And still is friend to him and Margaret 
 But if your title to the crown be weak, — 
 As may appear by Edward's good success, — 
 Then 'tis but reason that I be reieas'd 
 From giving aid, which late I pronsised. 
 Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand. 
 That your estate requires, and mine can yield. 
 
 War. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his ease 
 Where, having nothing, nothing he can lose. 
 And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, — 
 You have a father able to maintain you ; 
 And better 'twere, you troubled him than France. 
 
 Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless War- 
 wick, peace : 
 Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings ! 
 I will not hence, fill with my talk and tears. 
 Both full of truth, I make king Lewis behold 
 Thy sly conveyance, and thy lord's false love ; 
 For both of you are birds of self- same feather. 
 
 [A horn sounded wiihin.) 
 
 K. Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are for 
 you; 
 Sent from your brother, marquis Montague. — 
 These from our king unto your majesty. — 
 And, madam, these for you ; from whom I know not. 
 [To Margaret. They all read their letters.) 
 
 Oxf. I like it well, that our fair qiieen and mis- 
 tress 
 Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. 
 
 Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he were 
 I hope, all's for the best. (nettled : 
 
 K.Lew. Warwick, what are thy news? and 
 yours, fair queen ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with un- 
 hop'd joys. 
 
 War. Mine, full or sorrow and heart's discontent. 
 
 K. Leio. What ! has your king married the lady 
 Grey ? 
 And now, to sooth yonr forgery and his, 
 Sends me a paper to persuade me patience ? 
 Is this tiie alliance that he seeks with France? 
 Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? 
 
 Q. Mar. I told your majesty as much before : 
 This ptoveth Edward's love, and Warwick's 
 honesty. (heaven, 
 
 War. King Lewis, I here protest, — in sight of 
 And by the hope I have of l*avenly bliss, — 
 That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's; 
 No more my king, for he dishonours me ; 
 But most himself, if he could see his shame. — 
 Did I forget, that by the house of York 
 My father came untimely to his death 'I 
 Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ? 
 Did I impale him with the regal crown ? 
 Did I put Henry from his native right ; 
 And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame ? 
 Shame on himself! for my desert is honour. 
 And, to repair my honour lost for him, 
 I here renounce him, and return to Henry, 
 My noble queen, let former grudges pass, 
 -And henceforth I am thy true servitor ; 
 I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, 
 And replant Henry in his former state. 
 
 Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have turn'd my 
 hate to love: 
 And I forgive and quite forget old faults, 
 .And joy, that thou becom'st king Henry's friend. 
 
 War. So much his friendjay, his unfeigned friend, 
 That, if king Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
 With some tew bands of chosen soldiers, 
 I'll undertake to land them on our coast. 
 And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 
 'Tis not this new-made bride shall succour film: 
 And as for Clarenct, — as my letters Lei! me. 
 He's very likely now to fall from him: 
 
452 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 For matching more for wanton lust than honour. 
 Or than for strength and salety of our country. 
 
 Bona. Dear brother, liow shall Bona be reveng'd. 
 But by thy help to this distressed queen i 
 Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor 
 Heniy live. 
 Unless thou rescue liiui from foul despair ? 
 Bona. My quarrel, and this English queen's 
 
 are one. 
 War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours. 
 K. Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and 
 Margaret's. 
 Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolv'd, 
 ifou shall have aid. [once. 
 
 Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all at 
 K. Lew. Then, England's messenger, return in 
 post ; 
 And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, — 
 That Lewis of France is sending over maskers. 
 To revel it with hmi and his new bride : 
 Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal. 
 Bona. Tell him. In hope he'll prove a widower 
 shortly, 
 I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. [aside, 
 Q. Mar. Tell him. My mourning weeds are laid 
 And I am ready to put armour on. 
 
 War. Tell him from me. That he hath done me 
 wrong ; 
 And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long. 
 There's thy reward; be gone. [Exit Mess. 
 
 K. Lew. But, Warwick, thou, 
 
 And Oxford, with five thousand men, 
 Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward b:ittle : 
 And, as occasion serves, this nuble queen 
 And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. 
 Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt; — 
 What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty ? 
 
 War. This shall assure my constant loyalty ; — 
 That if onr queen and this young prince agree, 
 I'll join mine eldest daughter, and my joy. 
 To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. 
 
 Q. Mar. Yes, 1 agree, and thank you lor your mo- 
 Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, [tion :- 
 Theiefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick ; 
 And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocalile. 
 That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. 
 Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well de- 
 serves it ; 
 And here, to pled^re my vow, I give my hnnd. 
 
 (He yives Itis hand to Warwick.) 
 K. Letv. Why stay we now V These soldiers shall 
 be levied, 
 And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 
 Shall waft them over with onr royal fleet. — 
 I long, till Edward fall by war's mischance. 
 For nmcking marriage with a dame of France. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Warwick. 
 War. I came from Edward.as ambassador. 
 But 1 return his sworn and mortal foe : 
 Matter of marriage w as the charge he gave me. 
 But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
 Had he none else to make a stale, but me ? 
 Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow 
 I was the chief, that rais'd him to the crown, 
 And I'll be chief to bring him down again : 
 Not that I pity Henrys misery, 
 But seek revenge on Edward s mockery. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1.' — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Gloster, Clarence, Somerset, Monta- 
 gue, and others. 
 Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you 
 Of this new marriage with the lady Grey ? 
 Hath not our brotlier luiule a woitliy choice? 
 
 Clar. Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to 
 France ; 
 How could he stay till Wnrwick made return? 
 Som. My lords, furbenr this talk: here comes 
 the king. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Edwabd, attended; Lady 
 Grey, as Queen; Pembroke, Stafford, Hast- 
 ings, and others. 
 Glo. And his well-chosen bride. 
 Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think. 
 K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like 
 you onr choice. 
 That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? 
 
 Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl of 
 Warwick ; 
 Which are so weak of courage, and in judgment, 
 Tliat they'll take no offence at our abuse. 
 
 h. Ediv. Suppose, they take ofl'euce without a 
 cause. 
 They are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward, 
 Yoiir king and Warwick's, and must have my will. 
 Glo. And you shall have your will, because our 
 king : 
 Yet hasty marriage seldom provefh well. 
 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended 
 Glo. Not I : . [too ■.' 
 
 No; God forbid, that I should wish them .sever'd. 
 Whom God hath join'd together : ay, and 'twere pity 
 To simder them that yoke so well together. 
 
 K. Ediv. Setting your scorns, and your mislike, 
 aside, 
 Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey 
 Should not become my wife, and England's queen : — 
 And you, too, Somerset, and Montague, 
 Speak freely what you think. 
 
 Clar. 'J'lien this is my opinion, — That king Lewis 
 Becomes your enemy, for mocking him 
 About the marriage of the lady Bona. 
 
 Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge. 
 Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. 
 
 K. Edw. What, if both Lewis and Warwick he 
 rfjjpeas'd, 
 By such invention as I can devise ? 
 
 Mont. Yet to have join'd with France in such 
 alliance. 
 Would more have strengthea'd this our common- 
 wealth 
 'Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred marriage. 
 
 Hast. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself, 
 Enaland is safe, if true within itself? 
 
 Mont. Yes; but the safer, when 'tis back'd 
 with France. ' i France : 
 
 Hast. 'Tis better using France, than trusting 
 Let us be back'd with God, and with tlie seas, 
 Which he hath given for fence impregnable. 
 And with their helps only defend ourselves; 
 In them, and in ourselves, onr safety lies. 
 
 Clar. For this one speech, lord Hastings well 
 deserves 
 To have the heir of the lord Hnngerford. 
 
 li. Edw. Ay, what of that ? it was my will and 
 grant; 
 And, for this once, my will shall stand for law. 
 Glo. And yet, mc thinks, your grace hath not 
 done well. 
 To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales 
 Unto the brother of your loving bride ; 
 She better would have fitted me, or Clarence : 
 But in your bride you bury brotherhood. 
 
 Clar. Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir 
 Of the lord Bouville on your new wife's son. 
 And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. 
 K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wifn, 
 That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. 
 Clar. In choosing for yourself, you shew'd your 
 judgment; 
 Which being shallow, you shall give me leave 
 To play the broker in mine own behalf ; 
 And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. 
 
 K.Edw Leave me, ortarry, Edward will be kmg, 
 And not be tied unto his brother's will. 
 
 Q Eliz. My lords, before it pleasd his majesty 
 To raise my state to title of a queen, 
 Do me but right, and you must all confess 
 That I was not ignoble of descent. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 463 
 
 And meaner than myself have had like fortune. 
 But as this title honours nie and mine, 
 So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing. 
 Do cloud my joys with danger ami with sorrow. 
 K. Edw. My love, forbtar to fawn upon their 
 
 fiou us : 
 What danger, or what sorrow, can befall thee, 
 JSo long as Edward is thy constant friend. 
 And their true sovereign, whom they naist obey ? 
 Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too. 
 Unless they seek, for hatred at my hands: 
 Which, if they do, yet will 1 keep thee safe. 
 And Ihey shall feel the ven.iicanci' of my wrath. 
 Gio. I hear, yet say not ntuch, but think the 
 
 more. [Aside.) 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters, or what 
 f ron> France i (news. 
 
 Mess. My sovereign liege, uo letters; and few 
 words. 
 But such as I, without your special pardon, 
 Diire not relate. [brief, 
 
 K. Ediv. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore, in 
 Tell nie their words as near as thou canst guess them. 
 TA liat answer makes king Lewis unto our letters? 
 
 Me.<is. At my depart, these were his very words; 
 To tell false Edward, thy supposed Icing, — 
 That Lewis of France is sending over tnaskers, 
 To revel it with him and his new bride. 
 
 K. Edw. Is Lewis so brave ^. belike, he thinks 
 me Henry. 
 But what said lady Bona to my marriage? 
 
 Mess. These were her words, iitter'd with mild 
 disdain ; 
 Tell him, in hope heHl prove a widower shortly, 
 I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. 
 
 K. Edw. i blame not her, she could say little less ; 
 Siie had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? 
 For I have heard, that she was tiiere in place. 
 
 Mess. Tell him, quoth she, my inourning weeds 
 are done. 
 Anil [ am ready to put armour on. 
 
 K Edw. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon. 
 Bill wliat said Warwick to these injuries? 
 
 Mess. He, more incens'd against your majesty 
 Than all the rest, discharg'd nu' wilii these words; 
 Tell him from me, thai he hath done me tvrong, 
 And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long. 
 
 K. Edw. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so 
 proud words? 
 Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd: 
 Tiipy shall have wars, and pay for their presumption. 
 Biit say, is Warwick fiiends with iN'argaret? 
 
 Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd 
 
 in friendship, [daughter. 
 
 Tint young prince Edward marries VVarwick's 
 
 Clar. Belike, the elder; Clarence will have tiie 
 younger. 
 Now, brother king, farewell, and si* yon fast. 
 Nor ( will hence to Warwick's otrier daughter; 
 Tfiat, though 1 want a kingdom, yet in marriage 
 I may not prove inferior to yourself — 
 Villi, that love me and VVarwick, follow me. 
 
 [Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows. 
 
 (Uo. Not I : 
 •My Cioughts aim at a further matte'r; I 
 S;:iv ni)t till love of Edward, biittlie crown. (4«/flfe.) 
 
 K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone to 
 Warwick 1 
 \ I't am 1 ariii'd a:;aiiist the worst can happen; 
 And liaste is needful in this desperate rase. — 
 l^f-nibioke, and Statl'ord, you in "iir behalf 
 Oo levy men, and make prepare for war; 
 Ihey are already, or quickly will be, landed • 
 M) sell ill person will straiglit fillow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford. 
 Hut, ere I go, Hastings, — and Montague, — 
 Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, 
 4re near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance : 
 
 Tell me, if yon love Warwick more than meT 
 If it be so, then both depart to him ; 
 I rather wish you foes, tliaii hollow friends • 
 But if you mind to hold your true obedience, 
 Give me assurance with some liiendly vow. 
 That I may never have you in suspect. 
 
 Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves (rue! 
 
 Hast And Hastings, as he favours Edward's 
 cause ! [by us ? 
 
 A'. Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you sland 
 
 Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. 
 
 K. Edw. Why so; then am I sure of victory. 
 Now therefore let us heace , and lose no hour. 
 Till me weet Warwick with his foreign power. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 ScKNE II. — A plain tn Warivickshire, 
 
 Enter Warwick and Oxford, with French and 
 other Forces. 
 War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; 
 The common people by numbers swarm to us. 
 
 Enter Clarence and So.merset. 
 But, see, where Somerset and Clarence come ; — 
 Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends ? 
 Clar. Fear not that, my lord. [wick; 
 
 War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto War- 
 And welcome, Somerset: — I hold it cowardice 
 To rest mistrustful, where a noble heart 
 Hath pawii'd an open hand 'n sign of love ; 
 Else might I think, that Clarence, Edward's brother. 
 Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings : 
 But welcome, Clarence : my daughter shall be thine. 
 And now what rests, but, in night's coverture 
 Thy brother being carelessly eiicamp'd, 
 His soldiers lurking in the towns about. 
 And but attended by a simple guard, 
 We may surprise and take him at our pleasure ? 
 Our scouts liave found the adventure very easy: 
 That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, 
 With sliglit and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents. 
 And brought from thence the Thracian I'atal steeds- 
 So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle. 
 At unawares may beat down Edward's guard 
 And seize himself; I say not — slaughter liiin. 
 For I intend but only to siirjirise him. — 
 You, that will follow me to this attempt, 
 Applaud the name of Henry, with your leader. 
 
 {They all cry, Hemy ') 
 Why, tlien, let's on onr way in silent sort : 
 For VVarwick and his friends, God and Saint 
 
 George 1 [E.xi'unt. 
 
 Scene III. — Edward's Camp, near Warwick. 
 
 Enter certain Watchmen, to guard the King'» 
 
 tent, 
 
 1 Watch. Come on, my masters, each man take 
 
 his stand ; 
 The king, by this, is set him down to sleep. 
 
 2 Watch. What, will he not to bed ? 
 
 1 Ifrt/cA.Why, no:forlieliath n.ade a solemn vow, 
 Never to lie and take his natiirai rest, 
 Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppressed. 
 
 "2 Watck.'To morrow then, belike, shall be the day 
 If Warwick be so near as men report. 
 
 3 Watch. But say, I pray, what nobleman is that. 
 That with the king here resteth in his tent? 
 
 1 Watch. 'Tis the lord Hastings, the king's 
 
 chiefest friend. [king, 
 
 3 Walch. O, is it so? But wliy commands thi 
 That his chief followers lodge in towns about him. 
 While he himself keepeth in the cold field ? 
 
 2 Watch. 'Tis the more honour, becanse mor« 
 
 dangerous. 
 
 3 Watch. Ay ; but give me worship and quietnesa, 
 I like it better than a dangerous honour. 
 
 If VVarwick knew in what estate he stands, 
 'Tis to be doubted, he would waken him, 
 
 1 Watch, Unless our halberds did shot up hii 
 passage. 
 
454 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 2 Wat.rh Ay ; wherefore else guard we his royal 
 But to defend his person from night-foes. [tent, 
 
 Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, 
 mid Forces. 
 War. This is his tent; and see, where stand his 
 guard. 
 Courage, my masters : honour now, or never! 
 Uut follow Mie, and Edward shall be ours. 
 
 1 Watch. VVho goes there '! 
 
 2 Wotc/i. Stay, or thou diest. 
 
 Warwick, and the rest, cry all — Warivick'. 
 Warwick ! and set upon the Guard; who 
 fiy, crying — Arm ! arm ! I^Varwick, and 
 the rest,j'ollowiny them. 
 
 The drum beating, and trumpets sounding, re- 
 enter Warwick, and the rest, bringing the King 
 out in a gown, sitting in a chair : Gioster and 
 Hastings Jly. 
 
 Som. What are they that fly there ? 
 
 Wa*-. Richard and Hastings : let them go, here's 
 
 the duke, 
 K. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we 
 parted last, 
 ThoM call'dst me king? 
 
 War. Ay, but the case is alter'd : 
 
 Wiien you disgrac'd me in uiy embassade. 
 Then I degraded you from being king. 
 And come now to create you duke of York. 
 Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom. 
 That know not how to use ambassadors ; 
 Nor how to be contented with one wife ; 
 Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ; 
 Nor how to study for the people's welfare ; 
 Nor how to shrovvd yourself trom enemies? 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here 
 too':" 
 Nay, then 1 see, that Edward needs must down. — 
 Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance. 
 Of thee, thyself, and all thy complices, 
 Edward will always bear himself as king : 
 Though fortune's malice overthrow my state. 
 My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. 
 liar. Then, for liis mind, be Edward England's 
 king : {Takes off Ms crown.) 
 
 But Henry now shall wear the Englisli crown. 
 And be true king indeed; thou but the shadow. — 
 My lord of Somerset, at my request. 
 See that forthwith duke Edward be eonvey'd 
 Unto my brother, archbishop of York. 
 When 1 liave fought with Pembroke and his fellows, 
 I'll follow you, and tell what answer 
 Lewis, and the lady Bona, send to him : 
 Now, lor a while, farewell, good duke of York. 
 K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must needs 
 abide ; 
 It boots not to resist both wind and tide. 
 iExit King Edward, led out ; Somerset with him. 
 Oxf. What now remaitis, my lords, for us to do ; 
 But march to London witii our soldiers? (do : 
 
 War. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to 
 To free king Henry from imprisonment. 
 And see him seated in the regal throne. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — London A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth and Rivers. 
 
 Riv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden 
 
 change ? [learn, 
 
 Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to 
 
 Wnat late mislbrtnne is befall'n king Edward ? 
 
 Rtv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against 
 
 Warwick? 
 0. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal person. 
 Riv.^ riien is njy sovereign slain? 
 Q. Ehz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner ; 
 Either betray d by fa.sehood of his guard, 
 i)i by nis (oe surpris'd at unawarC'S : 
 And, as I further have to understand. 
 Is new coramitted to the bishop of York, 
 
 Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe. 
 
 Riv. These news, I must confess, are full of grief : 
 Yet, gracious madam, bear it as yoa may ; 
 Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. 
 
 Q. Eliz.T\\\ then, fair hope must hinder life's decay 
 And I the rather wean me from despair. 
 For love of Edward's offspring in my womb ; 
 This is it that makes me bridle passion. 
 And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross ; 
 Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear. 
 And stop the rising of blood-siicking sigh.s. 
 Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown 
 King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English cruivti. 
 
 Riv. But, madam, where is Warwick then br- 
 come? [Lunilou. 
 
 Q.Elis. I am informed, that he coinfs towa.cis 
 To set the crown once more on Henry's head : 
 Guess thou the rest; king Edward's iViends kjusJ 
 
 down. 
 But, to prevent the tyrant's violence, 
 (For trust not him, that hath once broken niitli,] 
 I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary. 
 To save at least the heir of Edward's right : 
 There shall I rest secure from force, and Iraud. 
 Come therefore, let us fly, while we may fly ; 
 If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [Exeimt. 
 
 Scene V. — A Park near Middleham Castle, ia 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter Gloster, flASTiNCs, Sir William Si an 
 LEY, atid others. 
 Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir WiHi^im 
 
 Stanley, 
 Leave oft" to wonder why I drew you hither. 
 Into this chiefest thicket of the park. 
 Thus stands the case : \ ou know, our king, my 
 
 brother. 
 Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands 
 He hath good usage and great liberty ; 
 And, often but attended with weak guard. 
 Comes hunting this way to disport himself. 
 I have advertis'd him by secret means. 
 That if about this hour lie nuike this vviiy, 
 Under the colour of his usual game. 
 He shall here tind his friends, with horse and nit-i>. 
 To set him free from his captivity. 
 
 Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman. 
 
 Hunt. This way, my lord ; for this way lies Ihf 
 
 ga'ne. 
 K. Edw. Nay, this vvay, man; see, where lUc 
 huntsmen stand. — 
 Now, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, and th» resi. 
 Stand you thus close to steal the bisiiop's deer ? 
 
 Glo. Brother, the time and case requireth bastf ; 
 Your horse stands ready at the park corner. 
 A. Edw. But whither shall we then ? 
 Hast. To l>ynn, my lord ; and ship from tlieiiiv 
 to Flanders. [meaoin;;. 
 
 Glo. Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my 
 K Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardiie*--. 
 Glo. But wherelore stay we ? 'tis no time to tali... 
 K. Edw. Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt tho.. 
 
 go along ? 
 Hunt. Better do so, than tarry and be hang'd. 
 Glo. Come then, away ; let's have no more ado. 
 K. Edw. Bishop, farewell : shield thee fron» 
 Warwick's frown ; 
 And pray that 1 niay repossess the erown. [Exeunt. 
 
 SccNE VI. — A Room in the Tower. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Clarence, Warwick, So- 
 merset, young Richmond, Oxford, Montague, 
 Lieutenant of the Tower and Attendants. 
 K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God and 
 friWids 
 
 Have shaken Edward from the regal seat ; 
 
 And turu'd my captive state to liberty. 
 
 My fear to hojie, my sorrows unto joys; 
 
 At our enlargement what are tliy due fees ? 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 455 
 
 Lieit. Subjects may challenge nothiog of their 
 sovereigns; 
 But. if an humble prayer may prevail, 
 t then crave pardon of your majesty. 
 
 K Hen. For what, lieutenant ? for well using me ? 
 Nay, be tliou sure, I'll well requite thy kindne.ss, 
 For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure : 
 Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds 
 Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts, 
 At last, by notes of household harmony, 
 'I'liey quite forget tiieir loss of liberty. — 
 Milt. \Varwick, after CJod, thou set'st me free, 
 And cliiedy therefore I thank God, and thee ; 
 lie was the author, thou the instrument. 
 Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite, 
 J{y living low, where fortune cannot hurt me; 
 And that the people of this blessed land 
 A!ay not be piinisii'd with my thwarting stars; 
 Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, 
 i here resign my government to thee, 
 For tliou art fortiniate in all thy deeds. [ous ; 
 
 War. \'our grace hath still been fam'd for virtu- 
 And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
 SJy spying, and avoiding, fortune's malice, 
 l-'or few men rightly temper with the stars : 
 ^ et in this one thing let me blame your grace. 
 For choosing me, when Clarence is in place. 
 
 C/fi. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway. 
 To whom the heavens, in thy nativity, 
 Adjug"d an olive brancli, and laurel crown. 
 As likely to be blest in peace, and war; 
 And therefore I yield thee my free consent 
 
 fVar. And I choose Clarence only for protector. 
 
 K. Hen. Warwick, and Clarence, give me both 
 your hands; [hearts. 
 
 Now join your hands, and, with your hands, your 
 "^riiat no dissension hinder government : 
 1 make you both protectors of this land; 
 While I myself will lead a private life. 
 And in devotion spend my latter days. 
 To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise. [will? 
 
 War. What answer Clarence to his sovereign's 
 
 C'/ftr. Thni he consents/if Warwick yield consent; 
 For on tJiy fortune 1 repose myself. 
 
 IFrtr. \Vhy then, though loath, yet must I be 
 content: 
 \Ve'll yoke together, like a double shadow 
 1io Henry's bo<ly, and supply his place ; 
 •• mean, in bearing weigiit of government, 
 WInle he enjoys tiie honour, and his ease. 
 And, Clarence, now tiien it is more than needful. 
 Forthwith tii»t Ivlward be pronounc'd a traitor. 
 And all his lands and goods be confiscate. 
 
 C/ar. What else i" and that succession be deter- 
 niin'd. [part. 
 
 War. .Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his 
 
 K. Hen. But, witli the first of all your chief atlairs, 
 !.iet me entreat, (for i conunand no more,) 
 That Margaret your queen, and my son Edv/ard, 
 lie sent (or, to return from France witii speed : 
 For, till i see them here, by doubtful fear 
 iVIy joy of liberty is half eclips'd. [speed. 
 
 C/ar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all 
 
 K. Hun. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that. 
 Of whom you seeui to have so tender care'? 
 
 Soni. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Rich- 
 mond. 
 
 X'. Htti. Come hither, England's hope ; If secret 
 powers [Lays his hand on his head.) 
 
 Suggest but truth to my divining tliouglits. 
 This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. 
 His looks are full of peaceful majesty ; 
 His h "ad by nature Iram'd to wear a crown. 
 His hand to wield a sceptre : and himself 
 Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. 
 Make much of iiiui, my lords; for tliis is he, 
 Must help you more tnaii you are htut by me. 
 
 Enter a Mesnewjer. 
 War. What news, my friends ? 
 
 Mess. That Edward is escaped from your hrothier. 
 And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 
 
 War. Unsavoury news : But how made he escape ? 
 
 Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of 
 Gloster, 
 And the lord Hastings, who attended him 
 In secret ambush on the forest side, 
 And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him; 
 For hunting was his daily exercise. 
 
 War. My brother was too careless of his charge. 
 
 But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide 
 A salve for any sore that may betide. 
 
 [Exeunt King Henry, War. Clar. Lieut. 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Som. My lord. I like not of this flight of Edward s : 
 For, doubtless, Burgimdy will yield him help; 
 And we shall have more wars, before't be long. 
 As Henry's late iresaging prophecy |mond; 
 
 Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Ricli- 
 So doth my heart misgive me, in these cimflicts 
 VVhat may befall him, to his harm and ours: 
 Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, 
 Forthwith we'll send him hence to Britany, 
 Till storms be past of civil enmity. ' 
 
 Oxf. Ay ; for, if Edward repossess thecrown, 
 'Tis like, that Richmond with the rest shall down. 
 
 Som. It shall be so ; he shall to Britany. 
 C .me, tlierefore, let's about it speedily. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene YU.— Before York. 
 Enter King Edward, Closteu, Hastings, ana 
 Forces. 
 K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, 
 and the rest; 
 Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends. 
 And says — that once more I shall interchange 
 My waned state for Henry's regal crown. 
 Well have we pass'd, and now repa.ss'd the seas. 
 And brought desired help from Burgundy : 
 What then remains, we being tl;us arriv'd 
 Frotn Ravenspurg iiaven before the gates of ^'ork. 
 But that we enter, as into our dukedom '? 
 
 Gio. The gates made fast! — Brother, I like 
 not this ; 
 For many men, that stumble at the tlireshold 
 Are well foretold — that danger lurks within. 
 K. Edw. Tush, man ! abodements must not now 
 atfright us : 
 By fair or foul means we must enter in. 
 For hither will our friends repair to ns. 
 Hast. My liege, I'JI knock once more, to sum- 
 mon them. 
 
 Enter on the ivalls, the Mayor of York, and kit 
 Brethren. 
 
 May. My lords, we were forewarned oi your 
 coining, 
 And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ; 
 For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 
 
 K. Edw. But, master mayor, if Henry be your king. 
 Yet Edward, at the least, is duke of York. 
 
 May. 'I'lue, my good lord ; I know you for no 
 
 less. 
 K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but mv 
 dukedom. 
 As being well content with that alone. 
 
 G/o. But, when the fox hath once got in his nose, 
 He'll soon find means to make the body follow. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 Hast. Why, master mayor, whv stand you in a 
 doubt ? 
 Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. 
 
 May. Ay. say you so"? the gates shall then be 
 opend. [Exeunt from above. 
 
 Glo. A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon ! 
 Hast. The good old man would fain that alJ 
 were well. 
 So 'twere not 'long of him : but, being onter'd, 
 I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 
 Both him, and all his brothers, unto rcasoo. 
 
45 G 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Re enter the Mayor, and two Aldermen, below. 
 
 K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates mast 
 not be shut, 
 But in the nig^lit, or in the time of war. 
 What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys ; 
 
 {Tales his keys.) 
 For Eflward will defend tlie town, and thee, 
 And all tiiose friends that deign to follow me. 
 
 Orum.Enttr Montgomery, and Forces, marching. 
 
 Glo. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, 
 Our trusty iriend, unless I be deceiv'd. 
 
 K. Edw. Welcome, sir John ! But why come 
 
 you in arms ? 
 Mont. 'To lielp king Edward in his time of storm. 
 As every loyal subject ought to do. 
 
 K. Edw. 'I'lianks, good Montgomery, Cut we 
 now forget 
 Our title to the crown ; and only claim 
 Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest. 
 
 Mont. Then i'are you well, for I will hence again ; 
 I came to serve a king, and not a duke. — 
 Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 
 
 {A March begun.) 
 K. Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, awhile ; and we'll 
 debate. 
 By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. 
 
 Mont. What talk you of debating '' in few words, 
 If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, 
 I'll leave you to your fortune ; and be gone 
 To keep them back, that come to succour yon : 
 Why shoidd we fight, if you pretend no title ? 
 Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice 
 
 points ? 
 K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then we'll 
 make our claim : 
 Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal onr meaning. 
 Hast. Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must 
 rule. [crowns. 
 
 Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto 
 Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ; 
 The bruit thereof will bring you many Iriends. 
 
 K. Edw Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right, 
 And Henry but usurps the diadem. (self; 
 
 Mont. Ay, now my sovereign si)eaketh like him- 
 And now will I be Edward's champion. 
 
 Hast. Sound, tnnnpet; Edward shall be here 
 proclaim'd : — 
 Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. 
 
 [Gives him a paper. Flourish.) 
 Sold. (Reads.) Edward the Fourth, by the grace 
 of God, king of England and France, and lord of 
 Ireland, §'c. 
 
 Mont. And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's 
 By this I challenge him to single fi.;ht. (right, 
 
 [Throtvs dotvn his gauntlet.) 
 All. Long live Edward the Fourth ! 
 /v. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ; — and 
 thanks unto you all. 
 If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. 
 Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York : 
 And, when the morning sun shall raise his car 
 Above tlie border of this horizon. 
 We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates ; 
 P'or, well I wot, that Henry is no soldier. — 
 Ah, froward Clarence! — how evil it beseems thee. 
 To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother ! 
 Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and War- 
 wick. — 
 Come on, brave soldiers ; doubt not of the day ; 
 And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene VIII.— I,onc/o«. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Warwick, Clarence, Mon- 
 tague, Exeter, anrf Oxford. 
 War. VVhat counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, 
 With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
 Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas. 
 And with his tr<Hip- doth march amain to London ; 
 
 And many giddy people flock to him. 
 
 Oxf. Let's levy men, and beat him back again. 
 
 Clar. A little tire is guickly trodden out ; 
 Which, being sutfer'd, rivers cannot quench. 
 
 War, in Warwickshire I have true-hearted 
 friends. 
 Not mntitious in peace, yet bold in war; 
 Those will I muster up : — and thou, son Clarence, 
 Shalt stir, in SutVolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 
 The knights and gentlemen to come with the 
 Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 
 Northamptiin, and in Leicestershire, slialt find 
 Men well inclin'd to hear what thou c(in>u>iind"st :^ 
 And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd. 
 In Oxfordshire slialt muster up thy friends. — 
 My so.ereign, with the loving citiaen.s, — 
 Like to his island, girt in with the ocean. 
 Or mode.st Dian, circled with her nympius, — 
 Shall rest in London, till we come to him. 
 Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply. — 
 Farewell, my sovereign. [true hope. 
 
 K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy'.s 
 
 Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your higbne.ss" hanil. 
 
 K. Hen. Well-iuiuded Clarence, be thou fortu- 
 nate ! [have. 
 
 Mont. Comfort, my lord! — and so I take my 
 
 Oxf. And thus [Ki.ssing Henry's hand.) I seiiS 
 my truth, and bid adieu. 
 
 K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving ,Monti»gi»e, 
 And all at once, once more a happy farewell. 
 
 War. Farewell, sweet lords; lets m (t at Co- 
 ventry. [Exeunt War. Clar. Oxf. and Mutit. 
 
 K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while. 
 Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ? 
 Methinks, the power that Edward hath in field. 
 Should not be able to encounter mine. 
 
 Exe. The doubt is, that lie will seduce the rest. 
 
 K. Hen. That's not my fear, my meed hath got 
 me fame. 
 I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands. 
 Nor posted oli" their suits with slow delays; 
 My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds. 
 My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs. 
 My mercy dry'd their water-fl(nving tear.s : 
 I have not been desirous of their wealth. 
 Nor much oppress'd them with great .^ulisidies. 
 Nor forward of revenge, though they louch eir'd ; 
 Then why should they love Edward more than nti' ? 
 No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace ; 
 And, when the lion lawns upon the lamb, 
 The lamb will never cease to follow him. 
 
 [Shout tvithin. A Lancaster ! A Lnnc/isler ! 
 
 Exe, Hark, hark, my lord ! what shouts are these ^ 
 
 Enter King Edward, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 
 Edw, Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him 
 hence, 
 And once again proclaim us king of England.^ 
 You are the fount, that makes small brooks to flow ; 
 Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry. 
 And swell so much the higher by their ebb. — 
 Heuce with him to the Tower; let him not speaV. 
 
 [Exeutit some with King Henri/. 
 And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course. 
 Where peremptory Warwick now remains: 
 The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay. 
 Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay, 
 
 Glo. Away betimes, before his ibrces join, 
 And take the great grown traitor unawares : 
 Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. — Coventry. 
 
 Enter, upon the walls, Warwick, the Mayor of 
 Coventry, two Messengers, and others. 
 
 War. Where is the post that came from valiant 
 Oxford? 
 How fii hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? 
 1 Mess. By this ai Dunsmore, maiching hithevward* 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 457 
 
 War. Hoit far cfTist our brother Montapiie ? — 
 VVIiere is tlie post thiit came from Alontaffiie ? 
 2 Mens. By this at Daiiitry, with a puissant troop. 
 
 Enter Sir John Somervilf.e. 
 fVar. Say, LSmiierville, wh;it says my loving son? 
 AnrI, by tlie ffiiess, how ni^li is Clarence now :' 
 
 Horn. At Sontiiam, 1 did leave him w illi his forces, 
 And do expect him liere some two hours lience. 
 
 {Drum heard.) 
 
 IVar, Then Clarence is at hand, I hear liis dnnn. 
 
 Sum. It is not his, my lord; here Suiitham lies; 
 
 The drum, your honour hears, marcheth from War- 
 
 «ick.. [friends. 
 
 War. VVlio should that be? belike, iinlook'd lor 
 
 Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly 
 
 know. 
 
 Drums, Enter King Edward, Gloster, and 
 Forces, mar-ching. 
 K. Edw. G.), trumpet, to the walls, and sound a 
 
 pttrle. 
 Glo. See liow the surly Warwick mans the wall. 
 War. O, iiiibid spite! is sportful Edward come ? 
 Wliere slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, 
 ^'liat we could hear no news of his repair i 
 
 K. Eciiu. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city 
 gates. 
 Speak f^ently words, and humbly bend thy knee ? — 
 Call Edtvaid — king, and at his hands beg mercy, 
 And he shall pardon thee these outrages. [hence, 
 War. Nay, rather, wilt tliou draw thy forces 
 Confess wiirj set tliee up and pluck'd thee down? — 
 Call Warwick — patron, and be penitent. 
 And tiioii sh.ilt still remain the duke of York. 
 C/o. 1 thought, at least, he would have said — 
 the king ; 
 Or did lie make the jest against his will? 
 War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift' 
 Glu. Ay, by my faith, for a poor eail to give 
 I'll do thee service for so good a gift. 
 
 War. 'Twas 1 tliat ga\e the kingdom to thy 
 brother. [wick's gilt. 
 
 K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by War- 
 War. I'lioii art no Atlas for so great a weiglit: 
 And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ; 
 And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. 
 K. EUiv. But Warwick's king is Edward's pri- 
 soner : 
 And, galhint W^arwick, do but answer this, — 
 Wtiat is tlie body, wlien the head is otf •* 
 
 Glo, Alas, tiiat Warwick had no more forecast, 
 But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
 The king was siily finger'd from the deck ! 
 You left pooi- Henry at the bishop's palace. 
 And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the 'lower. 
 K. Edw. ' Tis even so ; yet you are Warwick still. 
 Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down, 
 kneel down : 
 Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cools. 
 
 War. I had ratlier chop this hand olf at a blow, 
 A.nd witli tlie utiier fling it at thy face, 
 Than bear so low a .sail, to stnke to thee. 
 K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide 
 thy friend ; 
 This hand, hist wound about thy coal black hair. 
 Shall, whiles tlie head is warm, and new cut oiF, 
 Write in llie dust this sentence with thy blood. — 
 Wind'Chanyintj Warwick now can change no more. 
 
 Enter Oxford, with drum and colours. 
 
 War. O cheerful colours! see, where Oxford 
 
 comes I 
 Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! 
 
 [Ovford and his Forces enter the City,) 
 Glo, The gates are open, let us enter too. 
 A. Edw, So oiher foes may set upon our backs: 
 Stand we in :;nod array ; for they, no doubt, 
 Will i.ssue out again, and bid ns battle ; 
 •*"<;'*. tiie city being of small defence, 
 ♦Veil quickly rouse the traitors in the same. 
 
 War. O, welcome, Oxford ! for we want thy help 
 
 Enter Montague, with drum and colours 
 Mont, Montamie, Montagoe, for Lancaster! 
 
 {He and his Forces enter the City,) 
 Glo, Thou and tliy brother both shall buy Ihi. 
 treason. 
 Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. 
 
 K. Edw, The harder initcli'd, the greater victory : 
 My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest 
 
 Enter Somerset, tvith drum and colours. 
 Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster 
 
 {He and his Forces enter the City."' 
 Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes ot Somerset' 
 Have sold their lives unto the house of Voi k ; 
 And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. 
 
 Enter Clarence, with drum and colours. 
 
 War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps 
 along. 
 Of force enough to bid his brother battle , 
 With whom an upright zeal to right prevails. 
 
 More than the nature of a brother's love ; 
 
 Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt, if Warwick calls. 
 Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this 
 means ? ( Taking the red rose out of his cap.'' 
 Look here, I throw my infamy at thee : 
 I will not ruinate my father's house. 
 Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, 
 And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st tiioii, 'vVarwick, 
 That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural. 
 To bend the fatal instruments of war 
 Against his brother, and his lawful king? 
 Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath : 
 To keep that oath, were more impiety 
 Than Jephtlia's, when he sacrific'd his daughter. 
 1 am so sorry for my trespass made. 
 That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, 
 I here proclaim myself thy mortal Ibe; 
 With resolution, where.soe'er I meet thee, 
 (As 1 will meet thee, il thou stir abroad), 
 'i o plague thee for tiiy foul misleading me. 
 And so, proud hearted Warwick, I defy thee. 
 
 And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. 
 
 Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends; 
 And, Richard, do not frown ujwn my faults. 
 For 1 will henceforth be no more unoonstant. 
 K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten 
 more belov'd. 
 Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate. 
 
 Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother- 
 War O passing traitor, perjur'd, and unjust ! 
 K. Edw, What. Warwick, wilt thou leave the 
 town, ana fignt ? 
 Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ? 
 
 War, Alas, 1 am not coop'd here for defence . 
 I will away towards Barnet presently. 
 And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st, 
 
 K. Edw, Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and lends 
 the way : — 
 Lords, to the field : Saint George, and vicfory ! 
 
 [March. Exeunt. 
 
 times 
 
 [like. 
 
 Scene 11.—^ Field of Battle, near Bamet. 
 
 Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King Edward, 
 
 bringing in Warwick, wounded. 
 
 K. Edw. So, lie thou there : die thou, and die 
 our fear; 
 
 For Wa.rwick was a bug, that fear'd us all. 
 
 Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, 
 That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. 
 
 „,. ., [Exit. 
 
 War. \h, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, 
 And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick ? 
 Why ask I that? my mangled body shews, 
 My blood, my want of strengtii," my sick heart 
 
 shews. 
 That I must yield my body to the earth. 
 And, by my fall, tiie conquest to my foe 
 
458 
 
 THIRD PART OF 
 
 Aci V. 
 
 Thas yields the ceciar to the axe's edge. 
 Whose aims gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
 Under whose shade the rnmjjin^ lion slept; [tree, 
 Whose top- branch overpeer'll Joves spreading 
 And kept low shrubs from winter's poweri'iil wind. 
 These eyes, that now are diniin'd with death's black 
 
 \eil, 
 Have been as piercing as the mid-day snn. 
 To search the secret treasons of the world : 
 The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood. 
 Were likt-nM oft to kingly sej)nlchres; 
 For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave ? 
 And who dnist smile, when Warwick bent his brow? 
 Lo, now my glory sinear'd in dust and blood ! 
 My parks, my walks, my manors tiiat I had. 
 Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands. 
 Is nothing left me, but my body's length I 
 Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? 
 And, live we how we can, yet die we must. 
 
 Enter Oxford and Somerset. 
 
 Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wertthouaswe 
 
 W^e might recover all our loss again ! [are, 
 
 The queen from France hath brought a puissant 
 
 power ; [fly ! 
 
 Even now we heard the news : Ah, coiild'st thou 
 
 War. Why, then i would not fly.— Ah, Mon- 
 tague, 
 [f thou be there, gwret brother, take rny hand, 
 And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile ! 
 Thou lov'st nje not; for, brother, if thou didst. 
 Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood. 
 That glews my lips, and will not let me speak. 
 Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. [last; 
 
 Som. .\h, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his 
 And to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick, 
 An<i said — Commend me to my valiant brother. 
 And more he would have said ; and more he spoke, 
 Which sounded like a cannon in a vault. 
 That might not be distingiiish'd ; but, at last, 
 I well might hear deliver'd with a groan, — 
 O, farewell, Warwick I 
 
 War. Sweet rest to his soid ! — 
 
 Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick bids 
 You all farewell, to meet ajjaiii in heaven. {Dies.) 
 
 Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great 
 power i 
 
 lE-veujit, bearing/ off Warwick's body. 
 
 Scene III. — Another part of the Field. 
 
 Flourish. Enler Kitiy Edwxrd, in triumph; with 
 Clarence, Gloster, and the rest. 
 
 K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward 
 course. 
 And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. 
 But, ill the midst of this bright shining day, 
 I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud, 
 'I'hat will encounter with our glorious sun. 
 Ere lie attain his easeful western bed : 
 1 mean, inv lords. — those powers, that the queen 
 Hath rais d in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast. 
 And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. 
 
 Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud. 
 And blow it to the source from whence it came : 
 Thy very beams will dry those va[)ours up; 
 For eveiy cloud engenders not a storm. 
 
 Glo. Trie queen is valud thirty thousand strong. 
 And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her; 
 II' she liave time to breathe, be well assur'd. 
 Her faction will be full as strong as ours. 
 
 K. Edio. We are advertis'd by our loving friends. 
 That thi y do hold their course toward Tewksbury ; 
 We, ha.iiig now tl"? best at Bamet field, 
 S\"\\\ thither straight, liir williiigness rids way: 
 Atid, as we march, our strength will be augmented 
 111 every county as we go alo ig. — 
 Strike up the drum ; cry — Courage ! and away. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — Plains near Tewhibury. 
 
 March. Enter Queen Maegarbt. Prince EoWASD 
 Somerset, Oxford, a^d Soldiers. 
 
 Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail 
 their loss. 
 But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 
 What though the mast be now blown over-board, 
 The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 
 And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? 
 Yet lives our pilot still : Is't meet, that he 
 Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad. 
 With tearful eyes add water to the sea. 
 And give more strength to that which hath too much ; 
 Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, 
 Which industry and courage might have sav'd? 
 Ah, what a shame ! ah ! what a fault were this! 
 Say, Warwick was our anchor; What of that? 
 And iMontagiie our top-inast; What of him? 
 Oiirslaughter'd friends the tackles; What of these? 
 Why, is not Oxiord here another anchor? 
 And Somerset another goodly mast? 
 The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? 
 And though unskilful, why not Ned and I 
 For once allovv'd the skilful pilot's charge? 
 We will not from the helm, to sit and weep; (no. 
 But keep our course, though the rough winds say — 
 From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrecL 
 As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair. 
 And what '.a Edward, but a ruthless sea? 
 What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit? 
 And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock? 
 All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
 Say, you can swim ; alas, 'tis but a while : 
 Tread on the sand ; why, tiiere you quickly sink : 
 Bestride the rock; the tide will wasli you ofl'. 
 Or else you famish, that's a threefold death 
 This speak I, lords, to let you understand. 
 In case some one of you would fly from us, 
 'ITiat there's no liop'd for mercy with the brothers. 
 More than with ruthless waves, with sands, anil 
 
 rocks. 
 Why, courage, then ! what cannot be avoided, 
 'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear. 
 
 Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spiiii 
 Should, if a coward heard her speak these vv ords, 
 Infuse his breast with niagnanimily. 
 And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. 
 I speak not this, as doubting any here ; 
 For, did I but suspect a fearful man, 
 He should have leave to go away betimes ; 
 Lest, in our need, he might infect another, 
 And make him of like spirit to himself. 
 If any such be here, as God forbid ! 
 Let him depart, before we need his help. 
 
 Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage ! 
 Acil warriors faint ! why, 'twere perpetual shame. — 
 O, brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather 
 Uoth live again in thee ; Long may'st thou live, 
 To bear his image, and renew his glories! 
 
 Som. And he, that will not fight for such a hope. 
 Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, 
 If he arise, be mock'd and vvonder'd at 
 
 Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset;— sv^eet Ox- 
 ford, thanks. [thing else. 
 
 Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath no- 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Prepare yen, lords, for Edward is at hand 
 Ready to fight; therefore be resolute. 
 
 Oxf. I tiiought no less : it is his policy- 
 To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. 
 
 Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readmess. 
 
 Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your for- 
 wardness, [budge. 
 
 Oxf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not 
 
 March. Enter, at a distance. King Edvva&D. 
 Clarence, Gloster, and Forces, 
 K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands tke 
 tlwrny wood, 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. 
 
 459 
 
 W ich, by the heavens' assistance, and your strengtii, 
 
 Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere siiglit. 
 
 I need not add more fuel to your fire, 
 
 For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out : 
 
 Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords. 
 
 Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I 
 should say, 
 My tears gainsay ; tor every word I speak, 
 Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. [reign, 
 
 Therefore, no more but this : — Henry, your sove- 
 Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd. 
 His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain, 
 His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; 
 And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil. 
 V'ou fight in justice : then, in God's name, lords, 
 lie valiant, and give signal to the fight. 
 
 [Exeunt both armies. 
 Scene V. — Another part of the same. 
 A /arums : Excursions : and afterwards a. retreat. 
 
 Then, enter Kin^ Edward, Clarence, Gloster, 
 
 and Forces : with Queen Margaret, Oxford, 
 
 and Somerset, prisoners. 
 
 K. Edtv. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. 
 .\sv;iy with Oxford to Hammes' castle straight: 
 l'\iT Somerset, off with his guilty head. 
 V.f, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. 
 
 Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with 
 words. [tune. 
 
 Soni. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my for- 
 [Exeunt Oxford and Somerset , guarded. 
 
 Q. Mar. So part we sadly in his troublous world, 
 'r • '\<-f\. witii joy in sweet Jerusalem. 
 
 A'. Edw Is proclamation made, — that, who finds 
 Edward, 
 Shall li.ive a high reward, and he his life? 
 
 Glo. It is : and lo, where youthful Edward comes. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, with Prince Edward. 
 
 K. Edtv. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear hira 
 speak. 
 What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? 
 
 (ward, what satisfactiou canst thou make, 
 . or bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 
 \nd all the trouble thou hast tnru'd me to? 
 
 Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious 
 York : 
 S ippose. that I am iio%t my fatlier's mouth ; 
 llt-sign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, 
 Whilst I propose the sell'-siinie words to thee, 
 \V liich. traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, tiiat tiiy father had been so re- 
 sol v'd! [coat, 
 
 Olo. That you might still have worn the petti- 
 And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. 
 
 Prince. Let yEsop fable in a winter's night ; 
 His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
 
 Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that 
 word. [men. 
 
 Q. Mar. Pi-Y. thou wast born to be a plague to 
 
 Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. 
 
 Prince. Nay; take away this scolding crook-back 
 rather. [tongue, 
 
 K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your 
 
 Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. 
 
 Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutifid : 
 Lascivious Edward, — and thou perjur'd George, — 
 And thou mis shapen Dick, — I tell ye all, 
 [ am your better, traitors as ye are ; — 
 
 K. Kdw. Ta 
 
 j) st my 
 ke that, 
 
 the likeness of this railer here. 
 
 kni tJmn usurp'st my father's right aod mine. 
 ~ ■ -■• " "lis railer 
 
 (Stabs him) 
 Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that, to end thy agony. 
 
 {Glo. stubs him.) 
 Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury. 
 
 {Clar. stabs him.) 
 Q. Mar. O, kill me too ! 
 
 Gio. Mrirry, and shall. {Offers to hill her.) 
 
 K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done 
 
 too much. (words? 
 
 Glo. Why siiould she live, to fill the world with 
 
 K. Edw. What I doth she swoon 'I use meami for 
 her recovery. 
 
 Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king, my brother; 
 I'll hence to London, on a serious matter' 
 Ere ye come (here, be sure to hear some news. 
 
 Cfar. VVhnt'!> what? 
 
 Glo. The Tower, the Tower ! [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned ! speak to thy mo 
 ther, boy ! 
 Canst thou not speak ? — O traitors ! n^arderers ' — 
 They, that stabb'd Cassar, shed no blood at all, 
 nid not oli'end, nor were not worthy blame, 
 If this fold deed were by, to equal it. 
 He was a man ; this, in respect, a child ; 
 And men ne'er spend (heir fury on a child. 
 What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? 
 No, no; my heart will burst, an iM speak : — 
 And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. — 
 Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals! 
 How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! 
 Vou have no children, butchers! if you had. 
 The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse 
 But, if you ever chance to have a child,^ 
 Look in his youth to have him so cut ol**, [prince? 
 
 As. d'-athsmen I you have rid this sweet young 
 
 ' T her 
 perforce. _ [here ; 
 
 K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me 
 Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my df ath 
 Whnti wilt thou not? — then, Clarence, do it thou. 
 
 Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease, 
 
 Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do 
 thou do it. [doit? 
 
 Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; 
 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. 
 What ! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher, 
 Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? 
 Thou art not here : Murder is thy alms deed ; 
 Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. 
 
 K. Edw. A way, I S3j ; I charge ye, bear her hence. 
 
 Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this 
 prince! [Exit, led out forcibly, 
 
 K. Edtv. Where's Richard gone ? 
 
 Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess. 
 To make a bloody supper in the Tower. 
 
 K. Edw: He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. 
 Now march we hence : discharge the common sort 
 With pay and thanks, and let's away to L )ndon, 
 And see our gentle queen how well she fares; 
 By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V I. —London. A Room in the Tower. 
 King Henry is discovered sitting with a booh hr 
 
 his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter 
 
 Glostcr. 
 
 Glo. Good day, mv lord ! What, at your book 
 so hard? ' [say rather; 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, my good lord : My lord, I should 
 'Tis sin t. flatter, good was little better : 
 Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike. 
 And botli .preposterous; therefore, not good lord. 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves : we must con- 
 fer. [Exit Lieutenant. 
 
 K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the 
 wolf: 
 Sn first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, 
 And next his throat unto the butcher s knile.^ 
 What scene of d«>-ith hath Roscius now to act? 
 
 Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind 
 The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 
 
 K. Hen. The bird, that hath been hmed in a bush, 
 With trembling wini^s misdoubteth every bush : 
 And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird. 
 Have now the fatal object in my eye, [kill'd 
 
 Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and 
 
 Glo. Why, what a peevish fi.ol was that of Crete 
 That taught his son the office of a fowl? 
 And yet, for all his wings, the fooi was drown'd. 
 
 K, Hen. I, Dsdalus; my poor boy, icartm: 
 
460 
 
 THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 
 
 Act /• 
 
 Tliy father, Minos, that denied onr c.mrss ; 
 The snn> that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, 
 Tliy biotiier tdward: and thyself, the sea, 
 Whose envious gidf did swallow up his lite. 
 Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with Words ! 
 My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, 
 Tlian can my ears that tragic history. — 
 Du' wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life : 
 
 Glo. Think'st thoa, I am an executioner? 
 
 K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art ; 
 If murdering irmocents be executing, 
 \Vhy, then thou art an executioner. 
 
 Glo, Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 
 
 K. Hen. Hadst thou been killed, when first thou 
 didst presume, 
 Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. 
 And thus I prophecy,— that many a thousand, 
 VVhich now mistrust no parcel of my fear ; 
 And many an old man's sigh, and luany a widow's, 
 And many an orphan's water-standing eye,— 
 Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate. 
 And orplians for their parents' timeless death, — 
 Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
 The owl sliriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ; 
 The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; 
 Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down 
 
 trees ; 
 The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, 
 And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
 Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain. 
 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; 
 To wit,— an indigest detbrnied lump. 
 Not like the fruit of such a goodly tiee. 
 Teeth hadst thou in tliy head, when thou wast born, 
 To signify, — Ihou caui'st to bite the world : 
 And, if the rest be true whicii I have heard, 
 'Iliou cam'st — 
 
 Glo. Ill hear no more ;— Die, prophet, in thy 
 
 speech; (Stabs him.) 
 
 For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. [this. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter alter 
 
 God ! forgive my sins, and pai don thee ! (Dies.) 
 Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 
 Sink in the ground? I thouglit it would have 
 
 mounted. 
 See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 
 
 0, may such purple tears be always shed 
 
 From those that wisii the dow'if.d of our house ! 
 If any S|)ark of life be yet remaining, 
 Down, down to hell; and say— I sent thee thither, 
 
 (Stabs him again.) 
 
 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. — 
 Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of; 
 For I ha\e often heard n\y mother say, 
 
 1 came into the world with my legs fiuward : 
 Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste. 
 And seek their ruui that usurp'd our right? 
 The midwife wonder'd ; and the women cried, 
 0, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth/ 
 And so I was; whicli plainly signified — 
 That [ should snarl, and bite, and play tiie dog. 
 Then, siure the heavens have sliap'd my'body so. 
 Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 
 
 I have no brother, I am like n.i brother : 
 
 And this word — love, which greybeards call divine. 
 
 Be resident 'u men like one another. 
 
 And not in me: I am myself alone. — 
 
 Clarence, bewire ; thou keep'st me from the ligiit; 
 
 Btit I will sort a pitiliy day for tnee : 
 
 For I will buz abroad such prophecies, 
 
 That Edward shall be fearful of his 'ife; 
 
 And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy deat'a. 
 
 King Henry, and the prince his sen, are gone : 
 
 Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest; 
 
 Counting myself but bad, till I be best. — 
 
 I'll tiirow thy bofly in another room. 
 
 And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit. 
 
 ScEN3 VII. — The same. A Room in the Palacp. 
 
 King Edward is discovered sitting on his throne : 
 
 Queen Elizaueth tvith the infant Prince, 
 
 Clarence, Gloster, Hastinos, and others 
 
 near him. 
 
 K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's ro>.d 
 throne. 
 Re purchas'd with the blood of enemies. 
 What valiant Ibe-men, l.ke to autumn's corn, 
 Have «e mow'd down, in tops of all their pride ? 
 Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowa'd 
 For hardy and undoubted champions: 
 Two Cliffords, as the father and the son: 
 And two Northuiuberlands; two braver men 
 Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound : 
 With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and 
 
 Montague, 
 That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion. 
 And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. 
 Thus have we swept sus()icion from our seat. 
 And made our footstool of security. — 
 Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy : 
 Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself 
 Have in our armours watcli'd the winter's night; 
 Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat. 
 That t!iou niight'st repossess the crown in peace; 
 And of our labours thou shall reap the gain. 
 
 Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; 
 For yet I am not look'd on in the world. 
 This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave; 
 And heave it shall some weight, or break my 
 
 back : — 
 Work thou the way, — and thoa shalt execute. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lo\ely 
 queen; 
 And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. 
 
 Clar. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty, 
 I seal upon the lips of tliis sweet balje. 
 
 K. Edit'. Thanks, noble Clarence : worthy bro- 
 ther, thanks. [sprang'st, 
 
 Glo. And that I love the tree from whence tiioil 
 Witness the loving kiss I give the triiit : — 
 Tosay tiie truth, so Judas kiss'd his master ; \ 
 And cried--all hail! when as he meant — > Aside. 
 all harm. ) 
 
 K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights. 
 Having iiiy coiiniry's peace, and brothers' loves. 
 
 Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar- 
 garet? 
 Reiguier, her lather, to the king of France 
 Hatli pawii'd the Sicds and Jerusalem, 
 And hither have they sent it for her ransome. 
 
 K. Edw. Away with her, and wait her hence to 
 France. 
 And now what rests, but that we spend the time 
 Wit!: stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, 
 .Such as befit the ple.isures of the court"? — 
 Sound, drums and tnunpets ! — farewell, sour a.inoy 1 
 For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [lireiml. 
 
KING RICHARD HI. 
 
 This is one of (he most celKbrated of nur anchor's performances ; yet I know not whether it has not happened to Wi* 
 IS to others, to he praised most, wlieii praise is not most ileserveU. That this play has scenes noble in themselves, and 
 irery well contrived to strike in the exhibition, cannot be denied. Hut some parts are trilling, others shocking, and some 
 improbable. , Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED, 
 
 KING EOWAKD THE FOURTH. 
 b;UWAKl>, I'liiice of WalfS, iijler- \ 
 
 iintrils Khiy Edward V., , Suns to the K,ny. 
 
 WICH WHO. Duke uj York, ) 
 
 llliOKGh;. Uiikit vj Clarence, I ,,„ ,, _ , ,, 
 
 /aCH.A.KD, Uxk/ o/ Glosler,aflej-\ "rol/iers to tAe 
 
 wards King Richard 111 , ] 
 
 King. 
 
 A young Son uj Cian-zur. 
 
 HENKY. Eari uJ Kichiiiund, cufterwards King 
 
 Henry Vll. 
 CARDINAL, bOUKCRIER, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 THOAiAS llorHEKAM, Archliishop of York. 
 JOHN MOlirON, Bishop of Eiq. 
 UUKE OF UUCKINGHAM. 
 DLKE OF NORFOLK. 
 EARL OF SURREY. Ids Son. 
 
 tARL RIVEKS, Brother to Kina Edwarifs Queen. 
 MARyUlS OF OORSET and LORD UREY, her Sons. 
 EARL OF OXFORD. 
 LORO HASTINGS. 
 LORO SIANLEY'. 
 LORD LOVEL. 
 
 SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN. 
 
 Sai Hle'HARD RATCLIFF. 
 
 SiR WILLIAM CATESBY. 
 
 SIR JAMES TYRREL. 
 
 sat JAMES RLOL'NT. 
 
 SIR WALTER HERBERT. 
 
 SUl ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 CHRLSTOl'HER URSWICK. a Priest ^ 
 
 Another Priest. 
 
 Lord Mayor of London. 
 
 Sheriff of Wiltshire. 
 
 ELIZABEl'H, Queen of King Edward IV. 
 
 MARGARET, Widow of Kmi) Henri/ YI. 
 
 DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to King Edward IV., 
 Clarence, and Gloster. 
 
 LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, 
 Son to King Henry VI. ; afterwards married 
 to the Duke of Gloster. 
 
 A ynmig Daughter oj Clarence. 
 
 Lords, and other Attendants ; two Gentlemen, a Pur- 
 suivant , Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Mes- 
 sengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, etc. 
 
 Scene, — England. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Street. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent 
 Made glorious suniiiier by tliis suii ot York ; 
 Aod ail tiie clouds, tliat lowr'd upmi our liouse. 
 In tlie deep bosoai of tlie ocean Ijiiry'd. 
 Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; 
 Our bruised arms hung up for inonuineuts; 
 Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, 
 Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
 CJrimvisag'd war hath smooth'd his wiinkled front; 
 And now, — instead of mounting barbed steeds. 
 To fright the souls of fearlul adversaries, — 
 He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber. 
 To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
 But I, — that auj not shap d for sportive' tricks, 
 Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; 
 I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty, 
 To strut before a wanton ambling nympli ; 
 I, that am tnirtail'd of this fair proportion, 
 Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
 Deform'd, untinish'd, sent before my time 
 luto this breathing world, scarce half made up. 
 And that so lamely and unlashionable, 
 'I'hat dogs bark at me, as I halt by thein ; — 
 Why I, in this weak piping time ol peace. 
 Have no delight to pass away the time ; 
 [Juless to spy my stiadow in the sun. 
 And descant on mine own deformity ; 
 And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, 
 To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — 
 I am determined to prove a villain, 
 And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
 Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous. 
 By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, 
 '1*1) set my brother Clarence, and the king. 
 In deadly hate the one against the other: 
 And, if king lidward be as true and just, 
 As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, 
 'I'his day should Clarence closely be mew'd up; 
 About a prophecy, which says — that G 
 Of Edward s heirs the murderer shall be. [comes. 
 Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence 
 
 Enter Clarence, tjuarded, and Drakenbury. 
 Brother, good day: What means this aimed guard. 
 
 That waits upon your grace ? 
 
 Clar. His majesty. 
 
 Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 
 This conduct to convey me to the Tower. 
 
 (flo. Upon what cause ? 
 
 Clar. Because my name is — George. 
 
 Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours ; 
 He should, for that, commit your godlathers : — - 
 O, belike, his mnjesty hath some intent, 
 'I'hat you shall be new christen'd in tiie Tower. 
 But what's the matter, Clarence? m:iy I know? 
 
 Clar. Vea, Richard, when 1 know; for, 1 protest, 
 As yet I do not : But, as I can learn, 
 He hearkens alter prophecies, and dreams: 
 And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, 
 And says — a wizard told him, that by G 
 His issue disinherited should be ; 
 And, for my name ol George begins with G, 
 It I'ollows in his thought, Ihat I am he : 
 These, as I learn, and such like toys as these, 
 Have inov'd his highness to commit me now. 
 
 Glo. Why, this it is, when men are riil'd by wo- 
 men; — 
 'Tis not the king, that sends you to the Tower; 
 My lady Grey, liis wife, Clarence, 'tis she, 
 That tempers him to this extremity. 
 Was it not she, and that good man of worship, 
 Antony Woodeville, her brother there, 
 That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower; 
 From whence this present day he is deliver'd? 
 We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. 
 
 Clar. By heaven, 1 think, there is no man secure, 
 But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds 
 That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Sliore. 
 Heard you not, what an humble suppliant 
 Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ? 
 
 Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity 
 Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. 
 I'll tell you what, — I think, it is our way. 
 If we will keep in favour with the king. 
 To be her men, and wear her livery : 
 The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, 
 Since that our brother diibb'd them gentlewomen, 
 Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. 
 
 Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me ; 
 His majesty hath straitly given in charge, 
 'i h,it no man shall have private conlerence, 
 Of vvhat degree soever, with his brother. 
 
4G2 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Apt I. 
 
 Glo. Even so Van please your worship, Braken- 
 You may partake of any tiling '.ve say : [bury, 
 
 We speak no treason, man ; — We say, the king 
 Is wise, and virtuous ; and his noble queea 
 Well struck in years; fair and not jealous: — 
 We say, that Sl)ore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
 A cherry lip, 
 
 A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue ; 
 And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: 
 How say you, sir? can you deny all this i" 
 
 Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught 
 to do. 
 
 Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell 
 (hee, fellow, 
 He that doth naught with her, excepting one, 
 Were best to do it secretly, alone. 
 
 Brak. What one, my lord ? 
 
 Glo. Her husband, knave : — Would'st thou be- 
 tray me? [withal, 
 
 Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, 
 Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
 
 Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will 
 obey. 
 
 Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. 
 Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; 
 And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, — 
 Were it, to call king Edward's widow — sister, — 
 I will perform it to enfranchise you. 
 Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, 
 Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 
 
 Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. 
 
 Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long ; 
 I will deliver you, or else lie for you : 
 Mean time, have patience. 
 
 Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and guard. 
 
 Glo. Go, tread the patli that thou shalt ne'er re- 
 turn, 
 Simple, plain Clarence ! — I do love thee so, 
 That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven. 
 If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
 But who comes here ? the new deliver'd Hastings ? 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. Good tiuie of day unto mv gracious lord ! 
 
 Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! 
 Well are you welcome to this open air. 
 How hiith your lordship brook'd imprisonment? 
 
 Hast. VV^ith patience, noble lord, as prisoners 
 must: 
 But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks, 
 That were the cause of my imprisonment. [too ; 
 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt ; and so shall Clarence 
 For they, that were your enemies, are his, 
 And have prevail'd as much on him, as you. 
 
 Hast. More pity, that the eagle should be mew'd. 
 While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 
 
 Glo. What news abroad ? 
 
 Haat. No news so bad abroad, as this at home ; — 
 The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy. 
 And his physicians fear him mightily. 
 
 Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. 
 O, he tiiat kept an evil diet long. 
 And over-much consum'd his royal person; 
 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. 
 What, is he in his bed? 
 
 Haat. He is. 
 
 Glo. Go you before, and I will follr)w you. 
 
 [Exit Hastings. 
 He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die. 
 Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven. 
 I'll in, to urge his hatred more toChirence, 
 With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; 
 And, if 1 fail not in my deep intent, 
 Clarence hath not another day to live : 
 Wliich done, God take king Edward to his mercy. 
 And lea\e the world for me to bustle in ! 
 For then III marry Warwick's youngest daughter : 
 What though I kill'd her husband, and her falher' 
 The readiest way to make the wench amends, 
 
 Is — to become her husband, and her fatfasr : 
 
 The which will I; not all so re"ich for love. 
 
 As for another secret close ir.lrnt, 
 
 By marrying her, which I m'.iij'' reach unto. 
 
 But yet I run before my horse to market: 
 
 Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives, and 
 
 reigns ; 
 When they are gone, then must 1 count my gains. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Scene II. — T/ie same. Another Street. 
 Enter the corpse o/KiNG Henry the Sixth, borne 
 
 in an open coffin. Gentlemen bearing halberds, 
 
 to guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner. 
 
 Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,-^ 
 If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, 
 Whilst I a while obsequiously lament 
 The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. — 
 Poor key-cold figure of a holy Jiing ! 
 Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster I 
 Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! 
 Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost. 
 To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
 Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, 
 Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these 
 
 wounds ! 
 Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, 
 I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes: — 
 O, cursed be the hand that made these holes! 
 Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it ! 
 Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence ! 
 More direful hap betide that hated wretch. 
 That makes us wretched by the death of thee, 
 'i'han I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. 
 Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! 
 If ever he have child, abortive be it. 
 Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
 Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
 May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; 
 And that be heir to his unhappiness! 
 If ever he have wife, let her be made 
 More jniserable by the death of him, 
 Than I am made by my young lord, and thee ! — 
 Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load. 
 Taken from Paul's to be interred there ; 
 And, still as you are weary of the weight. 
 Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. 
 
 [The beartrs take up the corpse, atid advance. 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it 
 down. [fiend, 
 
 Anne. What black magician conjures up this 
 To stop devoted charitable deeds? 
 
 Glo. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by St. Paul, 
 I'll make a corse of hira that disobeys. 
 
 1 Gtnt. My lord, stand back, and let the coftin 
 pass. [mand : 
 
 Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I corn- 
 Advance thy halberd higher than my breast. 
 Or, by Saint Panl, I'll strike thee to my foot, 
 And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. 
 
 [The bearers set dotvn the coffin.) 
 
 Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? 
 Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal. 
 And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. — 
 Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
 Thou had'st but power over his mortal body, 
 His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone. 
 
 Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. 
 
 Antie. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and 
 trouble us not; 
 For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
 Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
 If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, 
 Behold this pattern of thy butcheries :— 
 O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds 
 Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh ! — 
 Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformitv; 
 For 'tis thy presence that exhales tJiis Klood 
 From cold and empty veins, where no Oiood dwells: 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 463 
 
 Tfiy deed, mhaman and UDnntural, 
 
 Provokes this deluge most unnatural. — 
 O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death ! 
 O earth, which this blood drinli"st, revenge his 
 death ! (dead. 
 
 Either, heaien, with lightning strike the murderer 
 Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick ; 
 A-s thou dost swallow up tiiis good king's blood, 
 Which his hellgovern'J arm hath butchered ! 
 
 Glo. Lad-y, you know no rules of charity, 
 Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. 
 
 ^4«we. Villain, thmi know'st no law of God nor man ; 
 No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. 
 (!/o. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. 
 Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! 
 (i/o. More wonderful, when angels are so angry. — 
 Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
 Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, 
 liy circumstance, but to acquit myself. 
 
 Anne. Vouchsafe, diffused infection of a man, 
 For these known evils, but to give me leave, 
 Uy circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. [have 
 Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me 
 Some patient leisure to excuse myself. [make 
 
 Anne. Foider than heart can think thee, thou canst 
 No excuse current, but to hang thyself. 
 
 Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. 
 Anne. Aud, by despairing, shall thou stand ex- 
 For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, [cus'd ; 
 
 'I'iiat didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 
 Glo. Say, that I slew them not i 
 Anne. Why then, they are not dead : 
 
 Hut dead (hey are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 
 Glo. I did not kill your husband. 
 Aline. Why, then he is alive. 
 
 Glo. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's hand. 
 Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest; queen Mar- 
 garet saw 
 7'liy ninrderous faulchion smoking in his blood ; 
 The which thou once didst bend against her breast. 
 But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 
 
 Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, 
 That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. 
 
 Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind. 
 That never dreamt on aught but butcheries: 
 Didst thou not kill this king ? 
 Glo. I grant ye. i 
 
 Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog? then, God 
 grant me too. 
 Thou raay'st be damned for that wicked deed ! 
 O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. [him. 
 
 Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath 
 Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shall never 
 
 come. 
 Glo. Let him thank me, that help to send him 
 thither; 
 For he was fitter for that place, than earth. 
 Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
 Glo. Ves, one place else, if you will hear ID'? 
 
 name it. 
 Anne. Some dungeon. 
 Glo. Your bed-chamber. 
 
 Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou iiest! 
 Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. 
 Anne. I hope so. 
 
 Glo. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, — 
 To leave this keen encounter of our wits. 
 And fall somewhat into a slower method ; — 
 Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
 Of these l-'lantagenets, Henry, and Edward, 
 As blameful as the executioner ? [effect. 
 
 Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd 
 Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; 
 Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, 
 To undertake the death of all the world. 
 So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. 
 
 Anne. If 1 thought that, 1 tell thee, homicide, 
 'I'hHse nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. 
 Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's 
 m-eck. 
 
 You should not blemish it, if I stood by : 
 As all the world is cheered by the sun. 
 So I by that ; it is my day, n;y life. 
 
 Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death 
 
 thy life ! 
 Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; tluui nit 
 
 both. 
 Anne. I would J were, to be reveng'd on thee. 
 Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 
 To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. 
 
 Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasoiiiiblp. 
 To be reveng'd on him that killd my husbjiud. ♦ 
 
 Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, (jfthy hushauil. 
 Did it to help thee to a better husband." [earth 
 
 Anne. His better doth not breathe ii|)uii the 
 Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could. 
 Anne. Name him. 
 Glo. Plantagenet. 
 
 Anne. Why, that was he 
 
 Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. 
 Anne. Where is he ? 
 Glo. Here : [She spits at him.) Why 
 
 dost thou spit at me ? 
 Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake ! 
 Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. 
 Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
 Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
 
 Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. 
 Anne. Would they were basilisks, ,to strike tiiee 
 
 dead ! 
 Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once ; 
 For now they kill me with a living death. 
 Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt teais, 
 Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops : 
 These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, — 
 Not, when my father York and Edward wept. 
 To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made. 
 When black-fac'd ClitFord shook his swoi d at him : 
 Nor when thy warlike father, like a child. 
 Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
 And twenty times made pause, to ioh, and weep, 
 That all the standers-by had wet their <_ lieeks. 
 Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time. 
 My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear: 
 And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 
 Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. 
 I never sa'd to friend, nor enemy ; 
 My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word ; 
 But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, 
 My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
 speak. [She looks scornfully at him.) 
 
 Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made 
 For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
 If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
 Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; 
 Which if thou please to hide in this true breast. 
 And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, 
 i lay it naked to the deadly stroke, 
 And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 
 
 {He lays his breast opeti ; she offers at tt 
 tvith his sword.) 
 Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill king Henry; — 
 But 'twas thy beauty that prov oked me. 
 Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young Ed- 
 ward : — {She again offers at his breast.) 
 But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 
 
 {She lets fall the sword.) 
 Take up the sword again, or take up me. 
 
 Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy death 
 I will not be thy executioner. 
 
 Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. 
 Anne. I have already. 
 
 Glo. That was in thy rage : 
 
 Speak it again, and, even with the word. 
 This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love 
 Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ; 
 To both their deaths shall thou be accessarf. 
 Anne. I would, I knew thy heart. 
 Glo. '1 is figur'd in my tongue. 
 Anne. I fear me, both are false. 
 
464 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act I 
 
 ('lo. Then man 
 
 Was never true. 
 
 Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. 
 
 Glo. Say then, my peace is madt. 
 
 Ann«. That shall you know 
 
 Hereafter. 
 
 Glo. But shall I live in hope ? 
 
 Anne. , All men, 
 
 I hope, live so. 
 
 Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 
 
 Anne. To take, is not to give. 
 * {She puts on the ring.) 
 
 Glo. Look, how this ring enconipasseth thy finger. 
 Even so tliy breast encioseth my poor heart; 
 Wear both of them, for both of them are tliine. 
 And if thy poor devoted servant may 
 Uut beg one favour at thy gracious hand, 
 Thon dost confirm his happiness for ever. 
 
 Anne. What is it ? 
 
 Glo. That it may please you leave these sad 
 designs 
 To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, 
 And presently repair to Crosby-place ; 
 Where — after I have solemnly interr'd. 
 At Chertsey monast'ry, this noble king, 
 And wet his grave with my repentant tears, — 
 I will with all expedient duty see you: 
 For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you. 
 Grant me this boon. 
 
 Anne. With all my heart ; and much it joys me too, 
 To see you are become so penitent. — 
 Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. 
 
 Glo. Bid me farewell. 
 
 Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve • 
 
 But, since you teach me how to flatter you. 
 Imagine I have said farewell already. 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkley. 
 
 Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. 
 
 Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? 
 
 "G/o. No, to White-Friars ; there attend my 
 coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the corse. 
 Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? 
 Was ever woman in this humour won ? 
 I'll have her, — but I will not keep her long. 
 What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father, 
 To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; 
 With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
 The bleeding witness of her hatred by; 
 With God, her conscience, and these bars against 
 
 me. 
 And I no friends to back my suit withal, 
 Uut the plain devil, and dissembling looks. 
 And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing! 
 Ha ! 
 
 Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
 Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, 
 Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ? 
 A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, — 
 Fram'd in the prodigality of nature. 
 Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubtj right royal, — 
 The spacious world cannot again attord : 
 And will she yet abase her eyes on me. 
 That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince. 
 And made her widow to a woful bed? 
 On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
 On me, that halt, and am mis-shapen thus? 
 My dukedom to a beggarly denier, 
 I do mistake my ))erson all this while : 
 Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
 Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
 I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
 And entertain a score or two of tailors. 
 To study fashions to adorn my body : 
 iSince I am crept in favour with myself, 
 I will maintain it with some little cost. 
 But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave ; 
 And then return lamenting to my love. — 
 Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, 
 Tittit I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit 
 
 Scene HI. — The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord RrV£RS, and Lord 
 Gkkv. 
 
 Riv. Have patience, madam; theres no doubt, 
 his majesty 
 Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 
 
 Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse : 
 Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, 
 And cheer his grace with quick and merry words: 
 
 Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me ' 
 
 Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord. 
 
 Q. £/iz.'riie loss of such a lord includes all harms 
 
 Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodij 
 son. 
 To be your comforter, when he is gone. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority 
 is put unto the trust of Kichard Gloster, 
 A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 
 
 Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector'? 
 
 Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet : 
 But so it must be, if the king miscarry. 
 
 Enter Bvc^ivfiVUM and Stanley. 
 
 Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham ami 
 Stanley. 
 
 Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace I 
 
 Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you h:i\e 
 been ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. 'J'he countess Richmond, good my lord 
 of Stanley, 
 To your good prayer will scarcely say — amen. 
 Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife. 
 And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd, 
 I hate not you for her proud arrogance. 
 
 Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe 
 The envious slanders of her false accusers ; 
 Or, if she be accus'd on true report. 
 Bear with her weakness, which, I tliink, proceeds 
 From wayward sickness, and no grounded malicfe. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of 
 Stanley V 
 
 Stan. But sio'.v, the duke of Buckingham, and 1, 
 Are come from visiting his majesty. 
 
 Q. Eliz.W hat likelihood of hisamenduieiit, lords ? 
 
 Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace s,.eaks 
 cheerfully. [with hitii / 
 
 Q. Eliz. Gi;d grant him health ! Did you confn' 
 
 Buck. Ay, madam : he desired to make atone mtiit 
 Between tlie duke of Gloster and your brothers. 
 And between them and my lord chamberlain ; 
 And sent to warn them to his royal presence. 
 
 Q.Eliz. 'Would all were well I— But that will 
 never be ; 
 I fear, our happiness is at the height. 
 
 Entsr Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset. 
 
 Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it :— 
 \\ uo are they, that complain unto the king, 
 J'hat I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? 
 By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly 
 That fill (ns ears with such dissentinus rumours. 
 Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair. 
 Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 
 Duck with French nods and apiih courtesy, 
 I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
 Cannot a plain man live, and think «o harm. 
 But thus his simple truth must be abus'd 
 By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? [grace ? 
 
 Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your 
 
 Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, uor grace. 
 When iiave I injur'd thee ? when done thee wrong.— 
 Or thee •* — or thee ? — or any of your faction ? 
 A plague upon you all ! His royal grace,— 
 Whom God preserve better than you would wish !— 
 Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while. 
 But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the 
 matter: 
 The king, of his own royal disposition, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 465 
 
 And notprovok'd by any suitor el.se ; 
 Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred. 
 That in your outward action shews itself, 
 Ag-fiinst ray chilrlren, brothers, and myself, 
 Makes him to send ; tliat thereby he may gather 
 The ground of yoiir ill-will, and so remove it 
 
 Glo. I cannot tell; — The world is grown so bad, 
 That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch : 
 Since every Jick i>ec-ame a gentleman, 
 lie re's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
 
 Q. E/iz. Come, come, we know your meaning, 
 brother (.Jloster ; 
 Vou en»y my advancement, and my friends; 
 Ond grant, we never may have need of you ! [you : 
 
 G/o. Meantime, (iod grants that we have need of 
 Our brother is imprison d by your means, 
 ]\lyself disgrac'd, and the nobility 
 Held in contempt; while great promotions 
 Are daily given, to ennoble those [ble. 
 
 That scarce, some two days since, were worth a no- 
 
 Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful 
 height 
 From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, 
 I never did incense his majesty 
 Against the duke of Clarence, but have been 
 An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
 ]My lord, you do me shameful injury, 
 Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 
 
 (i/o. \\n\ may deny tiiat you were not the cause 
 Oi'iny lord Hastings' late imprisonment. 
 
 Jliv. She inay, my lord ; for — [not so? 
 
 Glo- She may, lord Itivers';" — why, who knows 
 .She may do more, sir, than denying that: 
 She may help you to many tair preferments; 
 And then deny her aiding hand therein. 
 And lay those honours on your high desert. 
 What may she not? .She may, —ay, marry, may she, — 
 
 liiv. XV'hat, marry, may she :" 
 
 G/o. What marry, may she? marry with a king, 
 A bati-helcr, a handsome stripling too: 
 1 wis, yourgrandam had a worser match. 
 
 Q. Eliz. i\ly lord of Gloster, I have too long borne 
 ^"oiir blunt iipbraidings, and your bitter scoifs : 
 (}y heaven, 1 will acquaint his majesty, 
 Oi' those gross taunts I often have endur'd. 
 I had rather be a country servant-maid. 
 Than a great queen, with this condition — 
 To be so baited, scorn'd, and storin'd at : 
 .Small joy have 1 in being England's queen. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret, behind, 
 
 Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I be- 
 seech thee ! 
 Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. [king ? 
 
 Glo. W'hat ? threat you me with telling of the 
 Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said 
 I will avouch, in presence of the king. 
 I dare adventure to be sent to the T'ower. 
 ' Tis time to speak, my jiains are quite forgot. 
 
 Q. Miir. Out, devil ! I remember them too well : 
 Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the T'ower, 
 And Edward, my poor son, at T'ewksbnry. 
 
 Glo. lire you were queen, ay, cir your husband king, 
 1 was a pack-horse in his great alfairs; 
 A weeder-out of bis proud adversaries, 
 A liberal rewarder of his friends; 
 T'o royaliae his blood, I spilt mine own. [thine. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or 
 
 (jIo. In all which time, you, and your husband 
 Grey, 
 Were factious for the bouse of Lancaster ; — 
 And, Rivers, so were you : — VV'as not your husband 
 In Margaret's battle at .Saint Albans slain? 
 Let me put in your minds, if you fcrget. 
 What you have been ere now, and what you are ; 
 Withal, what I have been, and vvr.at I am. 
 
 Q Mar, A murd'rous villain, and so still lliou art. 
 
 Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his fatlier War- 
 wick, 
 Ajf, Mild forswore himself, — Which Je.su pardon! — 
 
 Q. Mar. Which God revenge ! 
 
 Glo. To fight on Edward s party, for the crown ; 
 And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mevv'd up : 
 I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's, 
 Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine ; 
 I am too childish-foolish lor this world. [world, 
 
 Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave ttii' 
 Thou cacodaemon! there thy kingdom is. 
 
 Riv. My lord of Gloster, iu those busy days, 
 VVhich here you urge, to prove us enen\ies, ' 
 We ibilow'd then our lord, our lawful king; 
 So should we you, if you shoidd be our king. 
 
 Glo. If I should be ? — I had rather be a pedlar: 
 Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! 
 ^ Q. Eliz As little joy, my lord, as you suppose 
 Vou should enjoy, were you this country's king ; 
 As little joy you may suppose in me. 
 That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. 
 
 Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; 
 For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
 I can no longer hold me patient. — (Advancing * 
 Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out 
 In sharing that which you have pill'd from me: 
 Which of you trembles not, that looks on me ? 
 If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects; 
 Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels? — 
 Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away ! [my sight? 
 
 Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in 
 
 Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd ; 
 That will I make, before I let thee go. 
 
 Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? 
 
 Q. Mar. I was ; but I do find more pain in ba- 
 nishment. 
 Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
 A husband, and a son, thou owst to me, — 
 And thou, a kingdom ; — all of you, allegiance: 
 T'his sorrow that I have, by right is yours ; 
 And all the pleasures you iismp, are mine. 
 
 Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, — 
 When thou didst crown his warlike brows with 
 
 paper. 
 And with tliy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes; 
 And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, 
 Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland ; — 
 His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
 Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ; 
 And God, not we, hath plaf>;u'd thy bloody deed. 
 
 Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent. 
 
 Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe. 
 And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of 
 
 Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re- 
 ported. 
 
 Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it. 
 
 Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to se»» 
 it. [came, 
 
 Q. Mar. What ! were you snarling all, before I 
 Ready to catch each other by the throat. 
 And turn you all your hatred now on me? 
 Did York's dread curse prev ail so much with heaven, 
 That Henry's deatb, my lovely Edward's death, 
 T'heir kingdom's loss, my woftd banishment. 
 Could all but answer for that peevish brat ! 
 Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? — 
 Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick 
 
 curses! 
 Though not by war, by surfeit die your king. 
 As ours by murder, to make him a king ! 
 Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, 
 For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, 
 Die in his youth, by like untimely violence ! 
 T'hyself a queen, for me that was a queen. 
 Outlive thy glory, like my wretchecl self! 
 Long raay'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss;. 
 And see another, as Isee thee now, 
 Deck'd in thy riglits, as thou artst^jll'd in mine! 
 Loup; die thy happy days before thy death ; 
 A.iid, alter many iengthen'd hours of grief. 
 Die neither mntjier, wife, nor England's queen!— 
 Rivers, — and Dorset, — you were standers by, — 
 Arid so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when roy son 
 
 SO 
 
4Db 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Was sfabb'd with bloody dapgers; God, I pray him. 
 
 That none of you m^y live your natural age, 
 
 But hy some iinlook'd accident cut off! [Iiaj?. 
 
 Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful vither'd 
 
 Q. Mar. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou 
 shak hear me. 
 If heaven have any grievous plague in store, 
 Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
 O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe. 
 And then hurl down their indignation 
 On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace ! 
 The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
 Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st. 
 And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
 No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine. 
 Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
 Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils 1 
 riiou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting ho^ ! 
 Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
 The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
 Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
 Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
 Thou rag of honour! thou detested — 
 
 Glo. Margaret. 
 
 O. Mar. Richard ! 
 
 Glo. Ha? 
 
 Q. Mar. I call thee not. 
 
 Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think. 
 That thou had'st call'd me all these hitter names. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, so I did ; but look'd for no reply. 
 O, let me make the period to my curse. 
 
 Glo. 'Tis done by me ; and ends in— Margaret. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse 
 against yourself. 
 
 Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my 
 fortune ! 
 Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider. 
 Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? 
 Fool, fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
 T.he day will come, that thou shalt wish for me 
 To help thee curse this pois'nons huuch-back'd toad. 
 
 Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse ; 
 Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. 
 
 Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you ! you have all 
 mov'd mine. 
 
 Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught 
 your duty. 
 
 Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me 
 duty. 
 Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects : 
 'O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. 
 
 Dor. Dispute not with her, she. is lunatic, 
 
 Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert : 
 Your tire-new stamp of honour is scarce current : 
 O, that your young nobility could judge, 
 What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable ! [them ; 
 They that stand high, have many blasts to shake 
 And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 Glo. Good counsel, marry ; learn it, learn it, 
 marquis. 
 
 Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 
 
 Glo. Ay, and much more : liut I was bora so 
 ■ Our aiery'buildeth m the cedar's top, [high, 
 
 And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 
 
 Q Mar. And turns the sun to sh:\de ;— alas I alasl — 
 Witness my son, now in the shade of death ; 
 Who.se bright oat shining beams thy cloudy wrath 
 Hath in eternal darkness folded u|). 
 Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest: — 
 O (Jod, that see'st it, do not suffer it ; 
 As it was won with blood, lost be it so? 
 
 Buck. Peace, peace, ibr shame, if not for charity. 
 
 Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me ; 
 Uncharitably with me have you dealt, 
 And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. 
 My charity is outrage, life my shame, — 
 And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage ! 
 
 Buck. Have done, have done. 
 
 ^. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand, 
 ia sign of league and amity with thee : 
 
 Now fair befal thee, and thy noble hoam : 
 Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, 
 Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 
 
 Buck. Nor no one here ; tor curses never pass 
 The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 
 
 Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky. 
 And there awake God's gentle- sleeping peace. 
 
 Buckingham, beware of yonder dog ; 
 
 Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and, when he bites' 
 
 His venom tooth will rankle to the death : 
 
 Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
 
 Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him ; 
 
 And all their ministers attend on him. 
 
 Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham ;' 
 
 Biiok. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. 
 
 Q. Mar. What, doth thou scorn me for ray gent! 
 counsel '! 
 And sooth the devil that I warn thee from? 
 O, but remember this another day. 
 When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow 
 And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess, — 
 Live each of you the subjects to his hate. 
 And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit. 
 
 Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her 
 curses. 
 
 Riv. And so doth mine ; I muse, why she's al 
 liberty. 
 
 Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother; 
 She hath had too much wrong, and I repent 
 IMy part thereof, that I have done to her. 
 
 Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. 
 
 Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. 
 
 1 was too hot to do some body good. 
 That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
 Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid ; 
 He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains ; — 
 God pardon them that are the cause thereof I 
 
 Riv. A virtuous and n christian like conclusion, 
 To pray for them that have done scath to us. 
 
 Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd ;— 
 For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. [Asicl.-. 
 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cafes. Madam, his majesty doth call f )r you. — 
 And for your grace, — and you, my noble lords. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come: — Lords, will you .;o 
 with me / 
 
 Riv. Madam, we will attend upon your grace. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Glosli r 
 
 Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. 
 The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
 I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
 Clarence, — whom I, indeed, ha\'elaid in darkness.- 
 I do beweep to many simple gulls ; 
 Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; 
 And tell them — 'tis the queen and her allies. 
 That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
 Now they believe it; and withal whet me 
 'i'o be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: 
 But then I sigh, and, svith a piece of scripture, 
 Tell them — that God bids tis do good for evil : 
 And thus I clothe my naked villany 
 With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ; 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 
 
 Enter tivo Murderers. 
 
 But soft, here come my executioners. — 
 How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates ? 
 Are vou now going to despatch this thing : 
 
 1 Murd. We are, my lord ; and come to have the 
 That we may be admitted where he is. [warranty 
 
 Glo. Well thought upon, 1 have it here about me : 
 
 {Gives the Warrant.) 
 When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. 
 But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
 Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ; 
 For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps, 
 ]\lay move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 
 
 1 Murd. Tut, tui., my lord, we will Dot stand to 
 Talkers are no good doers ; be assur'd, l.pratti. 
 
Scene 4, 
 
 KING RICHARD ITT. 
 
 467 
 
 We go to use our bands, and not our tongues. 
 
 do. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' ei^es 
 diDp tears : 
 [ like you, lads : — about your business straight. 
 Oi>, eo, despatch. 
 
 1 Murd. \^'e will, my noble lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScBN'E IV. — The same. A Room in the Tower, 
 Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. 
 
 Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? 
 
 Vlnr. O, I have passd a miserable night, 
 So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
 That, as I am a christian faitlilul man, 
 ( would not spend another such a night, 
 Though 'twere to bay a world of happy days ; 
 So fill of dismal terror was the time. 
 
 Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? 1 pray 
 you, tell me. [Tower, 
 
 Clar. Methought, that I liad broken from the 
 And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; 
 And, in my company, my brother Gloster: 
 Who fnim my cabin tempted me to walk 
 Upon the hatches ; thence we look'd toward England, 
 And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster, 
 That had befall'n us. As we pao'd along 
 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
 Methought, that CJloster stumbled ; and, b falling, 
 Struck me, that tiiought to stay him, over-board, 
 Intt) the tumbling billows of tlie main. 
 
 Lord : methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
 What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! 
 What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
 
 A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 
 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl. 
 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels. 
 
 All scattet'd in the bottom of the sea. 
 
 Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes 
 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
 
 (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, 
 
 'I'liat woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 
 A#d mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 
 
 Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death, 
 To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? 
 
 Clar. ^lethought, I had ; and often did I strive 
 To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood 
 Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
 To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; 
 But siuutl-.er'd it within my panting bulk, 
 VV^hich almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony ? 
 
 (Jlar. O no, my dream was lengthened alter life ; 
 O, then began the tempest to my soul! 
 
 1 i'ass'd, methought, the melancholy flood. 
 With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
 Unt:( the kingdom of perpetual night. 
 
 The first that there did greet my stranger soul. 
 Was my great (ather-iu-law, renovvnecf Warwick ; 
 Who cry'd aloud, — What scourge for perjury 
 ('e^i this dark monarchy afford false Clarence? 
 And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by 
 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
 Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud, — 
 Clarence is come, — false, fleetijig, perjurd Cla- 
 rence, 
 That stabh^dme in the field by Tewkshury ; — 
 Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! — 
 With that, methought, a legion of foul fleuds 
 Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise 
 I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, 
 Could not believe but that f was lu hell; 
 Such terrible impression made my dream. 
 
 Brak. No marvel, 'lord, though it affrighted you ; 
 I am afraid, methinks, to hear vou tell it. 
 
 Clar O Brakenbury, I have done these things, — 
 That now give evidence against my soul, — 
 For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requites me I-' 
 O God 1 if my deep praverj cannot appease thee, 
 
 But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, 
 
 Y^et execute lliy wrath on me alone : 
 
 O, spare my guiltless wile, and my poor children 1 — 
 
 I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by ine ; 
 
 My soul is hea\ y, and I lain would sleep. 
 
 Brak. I will, my lord ; God give your grace good 
 rest ; — 
 
 [Clarence reposes himself on a chair.) 
 Sorrow breaks seasons, and rei)osing liours. 
 Makes the night morning, and the noon tide night. 
 Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
 -An outward honour for an inward toil; 
 And, for unfelt imaginations. 
 They often feel a world of restless cares: 
 So that, between their titles, and low name. 
 There's nothing ditleis but the outward fame. 
 
 Enter the two Murderers. 
 1 Murd. Ho ! who's here ? 
 
 Brak. What would'st thou, fellow, and how 
 cam'st thou hither? 
 
 1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came 
 
 hither on my legs. 
 Brak. What, so brief? [dious :— 
 
 2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better io be brief than te- 
 Let hiin see our commission ; talk no mni-p. 
 
 {A paper is delivered to Brakenbury, who 
 reads it.) 
 Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
 The noble duke of Clarence to your hands : 
 I will not reason w iiat is meant hereby. 
 Because I will be giiiitless of the meaning. 
 Here are the keys . — there sits the duke asleep : 
 I'll to the king; and signify to him. 
 That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 
 
 1 Murd. \ ou may, sir ; 'tis a point of wisdom : 
 Fare you well. [Exit Blakenbury. 
 
 2 Murd. VVIiat, shall we stab him as he sleeps .'* 
 
 1 Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, 
 when he wakps. 
 
 2 Murd. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall 
 never wake until the great judgment day. 
 
 1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd hicji 
 sleeping. 
 
 2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, hath 
 bred a kind of remorse in me. 
 
 1 Murd. VVhat? art thou afraid? 
 
 2 Murd. Not (o kill him, having a warrant for it: 
 but to be danin'd for killing him, from the which 
 no warrant can defend me. 
 
 1 Mnrd. I thougnt, thou had'st been resolute. 
 
 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. (him so. 
 
 1 Murd. Ill baik to the duke of Gloster, and tell 
 
 2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little : I hope, 
 this holy humour of mine will change ; it was wont 
 to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 
 
 1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 
 
 2 Murd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience 
 are yet within me. [done. 
 
 1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed'a 
 
 2 Murd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward. 
 
 1 Murd. VVhere's thy conscience now ? 
 
 2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 
 
 1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give ns 
 our reward, thy conscience flies out. 
 
 2 Murd. 'Tis no matter ; let it go ; there's few, 
 or none, will entertain it. 
 
 1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again ? 
 
 2 Murd. Ill not meddle with it, it is a dangerous 
 thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot 
 steal, but it acciiseth him ; a man cannot swear, 
 but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neigh- 
 bour's wife, but it detects him : 'Tis a blushing 
 shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosoin ; 
 it fills one full of obstacles : it made me once restore 
 a purse of gold, that by chance I found ; it beggars 
 any man that keeps it : it is turned out of all towns 
 and cities for a dangerous thing ; and everv man, 
 that means to live well, endeavours to trust lo hitn- 
 self, and live without iL 
 
408 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 ] Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, \ 
 pers'.iadiiig me nut to kill the duke. j 
 
 •i Murd. 'fake t'le de\il in thy mind, and believe 
 niiii not : lie would iusiuuate with thee, but to make : 
 thee sitih. [with me. 
 
 1 Murd. 1 am strong fram'd, he cannot prevail 
 
 '2 Murd. Sooke like a tall fellow, that respects his 
 rei)Ufation. Come, shall we fall to work? j 
 
 1 Murd. Take him over the coslard with the hilts 
 of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey- 
 butt, in the next room. [hini. 
 
 2 Murd. O excellent device ! and make a sop of 
 
 1 Murd. Soft I he wakes. 
 
 2 Murd. Strike. 
 
 1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him. 
 
 Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of 
 wine. [anon. 
 
 1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord, 
 
 Clar. In God's name, what art thou ? 
 
 1 Murd. A man, as you are. 
 
 Ciar. But not, as I am, royal. 
 
 1 Murd. Nor yoi;, as we are, loyal. 
 
 Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are 
 humble. 
 
 1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks 
 my own. 
 
 Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thoii 
 speak ! 
 Your eyes do menace me : Why look you pale ? 
 Wlio sent yon hither ? Wherefore do you come ? 
 
 Jiuth Murd. To, to, to, — 
 
 Clar. To murder me ^ 
 
 l3ot/t Murd, Ay, ay. 
 
 Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, 
 And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 
 Wlierein, my friends, have 1 oflVnded vou ? 
 
 1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king. 
 Clar. I shall be reconcii'd to him again, 
 
 2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therefore prepare to die. 
 Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world of 
 
 men. 
 To slay the innocent'? What is my offence? 
 Where is the evidence that doth accuse me . 
 \iVhat lawful quest have given their verdict up 
 Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd 
 riie bitt-r sentence of poor Clarence' death : 
 lie fore I be convict by course ot law, 
 ! o threaten me with death is most unlawful. 
 I charge you, as you hope i'or any goodness, 
 liy Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, 
 riiat you depart, and lay no hands on me; 
 '1 he deed you undertake is damnable. 
 
 1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. 
 
 2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our king. 
 Clar, Erroneous vassal ! the great King of kings 
 
 Hath in the table of his law commanded. 
 That thou shalt do no murder : Wilt thou then 
 Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ? 
 Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand, 
 'i'o hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
 2 Alurd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl 
 on thee. 
 For false forsweaiing, and for murder too : 
 'I'lioh didst receive the sacrament, to fight 
 In quarrel of the house of t<ancaster. 
 
 I 'Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, 
 Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous 
 
 blade, 
 Uiirip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's scin. 
 ■ 2 Murd. Wiiom thou wast sworn to cherish and 
 defend. 
 1 Murd, How canst thou urge God's dreadful 
 law to us. 
 When thou hast broke it in such dear degree? 
 
 Clar. Aks I for wnose sake did I that ill deed? 
 For Edward, for my brother, for his sake : 
 He sends you iiol lu iiuirder me for this; 
 Foi in that sin he i< as deep as /. 
 If tJod will be avenged lot the deed, 
 O know youj liiut he doth it puhiicly: 
 
 Take not the quarrel from his powerful arte; 
 He needs no indirect nor lawless course, 
 To cut off those that have offended him. 
 
 I Murd. Who made thee tlien a bloody ministei; 
 When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, 
 That princely novice, was struck dead by tliee ? 
 
 Clar. IMy brother's love, the devil, and my nge. 
 
 1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy 
 Provoke ns hither now to slaughter thee. [fault, 
 
 Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not nie ; 
 I am his brother, and 1 love him well. 
 If you are hir'd for meed, go back again. 
 And 1 will send you to my brother (Jloster ; 
 Who shall reward you better for my life. 
 Than Edward will for tidings of my death. 
 
 2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster 
 
 hates you. 
 
 Clar. O, no ; he loves me, and he holds me dear : 
 Go you to him from me. 
 
 Boi/i Murd. Ay, so we will. [York 
 
 Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father 
 Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm. 
 And charg'd us from his soul to love each other. 
 He little thought of this divided friendship : 
 Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 
 
 1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones ; as he lesson'd us to 
 weep. 
 
 Clar, O, do not slander him, for he is kind. 
 
 1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest. — Come, you 
 deceive yourself; 
 'Tis he that sends us to destroy yon here. 
 
 Clar. It cannot be ; ibr he bewept my Ibrtune, 
 And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs. 
 That he would labour my delivery. 
 
 1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he deli\ers you 
 From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 
 
 2 Murd Make peace with God, for you must 
 
 die, my lord. 
 
 Clar, Hast thou thpt holy feeling in thy soul, 
 To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
 And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind 
 That thou wilt war with God, by murdering me? — 
 Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set jou on 
 To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. 
 
 2 Murd. What shall we do ? 
 
 Clar, Relent, and save your souls. 
 
 1 Murd, Relent ! 'tis cowardly, and womanish, 
 Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish. — 
 
 Which of you, if you were a prince's son, 
 
 Being pent from liberty, as I am now, — '■ 
 
 If two such murderers as yourselves came to yon,— 
 
 Would not entreat for life ? — 
 
 My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
 
 O, if thine eye be not a flatterer. 
 
 Come thou on my side, and entreat for me. 
 
 As you would beg, were you in my distress. 
 
 A begging prince what beggar pities not? 
 
 2 Murd, Look behind vou, my lord. 
 
 1 Murd, Take that, and that: if all this will not 
 
 do, [Slabs him.) 
 
 I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. 
 
 [Exit uiith the body. 
 
 2 Murd, A bloody deed, and desperately de- 
 
 spatch'd ! 
 How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my bands 
 Of this most grievous guilty murder done ! 
 
 Re-enter first Murderer. 
 
 1 Murd. How now ? what mean'st thou, that thus 
 
 help's! me not? 
 By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have 
 been. (brother ! 
 
 2 Murd. 1 would he knew, that I had sav'd his 
 Take thou the fee, and tell him what I .say ; 
 
 For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exii. 
 
 1 Murd. So do not 1 ; go, coward, as thou art.— 
 Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole. 
 Till that the duke give order for his burial : 
 Au'l when I liave my meed, 1 will away ; 
 For this will out, and tyen I must not st-^y. [Exi 
 
Act II. Scene 4 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 -iG"J 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I.—T/ie same. A Room, in the Palace. 
 
 Enter ii'my Edward, (led in sick,) Queen li-LiZA- 
 
 B5TH. DORS-ET, lllV&KS, HASTiNOS, UuCIClNG- 
 
 iiAJi, Grey, and others. 
 
 K. Edtv. Why, so : — now have I doae a good 
 day's work ; — 
 Von peers, continue this united league : 
 I every day expect an embassage 
 From my lledeeinerlo redeem me lience; 
 \iui more in peace my sold shall part to heaven, 
 Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. 
 Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand; 
 ■Diysemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
 
 llio. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging 
 liate ; 
 A.nd with my hsnd I seal my true heart's love. 
 
 Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear tlie like! 
 
 K. Edw. Take iieed, you dally not before your 
 king; 
 l.est he, that is the supreme King of kings, 
 Conlound your hiddeh falsehood, and award 
 iiitlier of you to be the other's end. 
 
 Hast, So juosper I, as I swear perfect love ! 
 
 Rw. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! 
 
 K. Edw. Mudam, yourself are not exempt in 
 this,— 
 Nor your son Dorset, — liuckingham, nor yon ; — 
 Vou have been factious one ajjainst tiie other. 
 Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand: 
 And what yon do, doit unfeignedly. Ireuiember 
 
 Q. Eliz. I'liere, Hastings ; — I vvill never more 
 0(ii- loiiner ii tred. So tiirive 1, and mine ! 
 
 /i. EUw. O.irset, embrace him, — Hastings, love 
 lord marquis. 
 
 Dor. Tiii-j interchange of love, I here protest. 
 Upon my part shall be inviolable. 
 
 Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces Dorset.) 
 
 K. Edw. Now, princely Buckinghaui, seal tiiou 
 this league 
 With thy euiliracenients to my wife's allies. 
 Anil make me happy in your unity. 
 
 Buclc. VV^henever liuckinghaui doth turn his hate 
 Upon ycmr grace, (To the Queen) but with all du- 
 teous love 
 Doth cherish your and yours, God punish me 
 With hate in loose where I expect most love! 
 W Men 1 have niost need to employ a fiieud. 
 And most assured tliat he is a friend, 
 Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile. 
 Be lie uato me! this do I beg of lieaven. 
 When 1 am cold in Jove, to you, oi" yours. 
 
 {Einbracinij Rivers, §'c.) 
 
 K. Ediv. A pleasing ccudial, princely Biickiug- 
 Is this thy vow unto my sickJy heart. iham, 
 
 'J here wanteth now our brollier Gioster here, 
 'Vo make the blessed period of this peace. [duke. 
 
 Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 ,Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and 
 queen \ 
 And, princely |»eeis, a happy time of day I 
 
 A'. Edw. Hapi)y, indeeo, as we have spent the 
 day : — 
 Brother, we have done deeds of charity ; 
 .Made peace of enmity, i'air love oj" hate. 
 Between these swelii g wrong incensed peers. 
 
 Glo. \ blessed hihoiir, my most sovereign liege. — 
 .A.moiig this princt-l.y lieap, if any here. 
 By f.i.se intelligence, or wiong s.irmise, 
 lioid me a foe : 
 
 It' I iiiiwiitingly, or in my rage. 
 Have augiit coiiiiuitted Itiat is hardly borne 
 By any in tuis pifseiice, 1 desire 
 To reconciJe me to iiis !rif iidly peace ; 
 "i'ls de.it.i to me, to be at emiui y ; 
 1 iiite it, and desire ail good men's love. — 
 First, ri^iJitiij, 1 eutreal true peace of you. 
 Wluch 1 wiii purcuase vvitn my duteous service; — 
 
 Of you, my noble cousin Buckiiiglmiu. 
 If ever any grudge were lo ig'd between us: — 
 or you, lord Rivers, — and lord Grey, of you,— 
 'Ihat all without desert have frown'd ou me; 
 Dukes, earls, loids, gentlemen; indeed, of hlK 
 I do not know that E^ng-lisliman alive, 
 With whom my soul is any jot at odds. 
 More than the infant that is born to-night; 
 1 tliank my God for my humility. 
 
 Q Eliz. A holy-day sh-ill this be kept hereafter : — 
 I would to (lod, all strifes were well coinjionrided. — 
 iMy sovereign lord, 1 do beseech your highness 
 To take our brollier Clarence to your grace, 
 
 (ilo. Why, madam, have I ofl'er'd love for this. 
 To be so flouted in this royal presence ? 
 Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead ''. 
 
 [They all start. 
 Vou do him injury, to scorn his corse. 
 
 K. Edw. Wiio knows not he is dead ! who knows 
 he is ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this ! 
 
 Buck. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest ? 
 
 Dor. Ay, my good lord, and no man in the 
 presence, 
 But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 
 
 K. Edw. Is Clarence dead:' the order was revers'd. 
 
 Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died 
 And that a winged Mercury did bear ; 
 Some lardy cripple bore the countermand. 
 That came too lag to see him buried : — 
 Gud grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, 
 Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood. 
 Deserve not worse tiian wretched Clarence did. 
 And yet go current from suspicion! 
 
 EtUer Stanley. 
 
 Stan. A boon, my sovereign, foi my service done 
 
 K. Edw. 1 pr'ythee, peace ; my soul is full ol 
 sorrow. 
 
 Stan. I vvill not rise, unless your highness hearrae. 
 
 K, Edw. Then say at once, wiiat is it tlioii le- 
 quesfsU 
 
 Slciti, the forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life ; 
 Who slew to day a riotous gentleman, 
 Lately attendant on the duke ol' Norfolk. [death, 
 
 A'. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's 
 And shall tliat tongue give pardon to a slave .'' 
 i\ly brother kill'd do man, liis f iiilt was thought. 
 And yet his piinisliment was bitter death. 
 Wiio sued to me for him "i* who, in my wrath, 
 Kneel'd at my i'eet, and bade me be advis'd V 
 Who spoke of brotherhood '! who spoke of love? 
 \V lio told me, how the poor soul did forsake 
 The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? 
 Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury, 
 Wlien Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me. 
 And said. Dear brother, live, and be a kimjT 
 Wlio lold me. when vve both lay in the field, 
 Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
 Even in his garments; and did give himself. 
 -All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? 
 All this from my remembrance brutish wratil 
 Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man ot'you 
 Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
 But, when your carters, or your waiting vassals. 
 Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd 
 'i'he precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
 Vou straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon J 
 And I, unjustly ^jo, must grant it you : — 
 But ibr my brother, not a man would sp'eak,— 
 Nor I (ungraciniis) speak unto myself 
 For linn, poor soul. — The proudest of you all 
 Have been beholden to liiiii in his life ; 
 Vet none of you would once plead for his life.— 
 O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold 
 Ou me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.— 
 Come, Hastings, help me to my closet, O, 
 Poor Clarence ! 
 
 [Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings;, Rivers, 
 Dursel, and Grei/, 
 
470 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Glo, Tills IS llie fruit of rashness ! — Mark'd you 
 Ho'.v (hat the guilty kindred of the queeTi [not, 
 
 Ifook'd pale, whenthey did hear of Clarence' death / 
 O, they tlid urge it sfiil nnto tlie king: 
 Ood will revenge it. Come, lords; will yon go, 
 'I'o comfort Edward with our company? 
 
 liuck. \Ve wait upon your grace. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene \\.—The same. 
 
 Enter the Duchess of York, with a Son and 
 Daughter q/' Clarence.* 
 
 Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? 
 
 Duck. No, boy. 
 
 Dauyh. \Vhy do you weep so oft? and beat your 
 breast; 
 And cry — Clarence, my unhappy son ! [head, 
 
 Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your 
 And call us — orphans, wretches^ castaways. 
 If that our noble father be alive i 
 
 Dnch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both ; 
 I lo lament (he sickness of the king. 
 As loaih to lose him, not your father's death: 
 It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. ' 
 
 Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. 
 The king my uncle is to blame for this : 
 'Jod will revenge it; whom 1 will importune 
 -A'ith earnest prayers all to (hat effect. 
 
 DaU'jh. And so will [. [you well: 
 
 Ducli. Peace, children, peace ! the king doth love 
 Incapable and shallow innocents, 
 Y on cannot gtiess who caus'd your father's death. 
 
 Son. (Jranilani, we can : for my good uncle 
 Gloster 
 Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen, 
 Devis'd impeachments (o imprison him : 
 And when my uncle told me so, he wept. 
 And pii ed me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; 
 bade me rely on him, as on my fa(l:*r. 
 And he would love me de;irly as his child. 
 
 Duch. Ah. (hat deceit should steal such gentle 
 shapes, 
 A lid with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! 
 lie is my son, ay, and therein my shame. 
 Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 
 
 Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam? 
 
 Duch. Ay, boy. 
 
 Son. 1 cannot think it. Hark I what noise is this? 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly ; Kivers, 
 and Dorset, following her. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and 
 weep ? 
 To chide my iortune, and torment myself? 
 [11 join with black aespair against my soul. 
 And to myself becon>e an enemy. 
 
 Duch. What means this scene of rnde impatience ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic ^ iolence ; — 
 Edwaid, my lord, (hy son, our king, is dead. — 
 Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? 
 Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap? — 
 If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; 
 That our swift-winged soids may catch the king's; 
 Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
 To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. 
 
 Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, 
 As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
 1 have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
 And liv'd by looking on his images : , 
 
 But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance 
 Are crackd in pieces by malignant death; 
 And I for comfort have but one false glass, 
 That grieves me when I see my shariue in him. 
 Thou art a wiuow; yet thou art a mother. 
 And hast the comfort of thy children left thee : 
 But death hath snatch'd my husband from my arms. 
 And pluck'd two crutches from my fe.ebie hands, 
 Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I, 
 (Tliine being but a moiety of my grief,) 
 I'o over-go tliy plaints, and drown thy cries'' 
 
 Son. A h, aunt ! you wept not for onr father's death 
 How can we aid you with our kindred tears ? 
 
 Daugh. Our fatherless distress waa ief', unmoau'd. 
 Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation, 
 I am not barren to bring forth laments : 
 All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
 7'hat I, being govevn'd by the watery moon, 
 May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world ' 
 Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward I 
 
 Chil. Ah, for our father, ibr our dear lord Clarence. 
 
 Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, lildward iiiid 
 Clarence! [f;"iie. 
 
 Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward '.' and he's 
 
 Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence ? aud he's 
 gone. Igoiii'. 
 
 Dttch. What slays had I, but they ? and they are 
 
 Q. Eiiz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. 
 
 Duch. Was never mother, had so dear a loss, 
 Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs; 
 Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. 
 She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ; 
 I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she : 
 These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I : 
 I for an Edward weep, so do not they : — 
 Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd. 
 Pour all your tears, I am your boitow's nurse, 
 And I will pamper it with lamentations. 
 
 Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis- 
 pleas'd. 
 That you take with nnthankfulness his doing; 
 In couimon wordly things, 'tis call'd — ungrateful. 
 With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, 
 Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent j 
 Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
 For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 
 
 Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful motlur, 
 Of the young prince your son : send straight for imn. 
 Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives : 
 Drown des[)erate sorrow in dead Edward's gni\e, 
 Aud plant your joys in living Edward's throne. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hast- 
 ings, Ratclif?, and others. 
 
 Glo. Sister, have comfort : all of iis have cause 
 To wail the dimming of our shining star; 
 But none can cure their harms by wailing them. — 
 Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy, 
 I did not see your grace : — Humbly «>u my knee 
 I crave your blessing. [breast, 
 
 Duch. God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy 
 Love, charity, obedience, and true duty ! 
 
 Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old man I— - 
 That is the butt end of a mother's hlessing; 
 I marvel, that her grace did leave it out. (Aside- ] 
 
 Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart sorrowing 
 peers, 
 That bear this mutual heavy load of moas. 
 Now cheer each other in each other's love 
 Though we have spent our harvest of this king, 
 We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
 The broken rancour of your liigh-swoln hearts, 
 But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together. 
 Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept : 
 Me seemetii good, that, with some little train. 
 Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince l>e tetch'd 
 Hither to London, to be crown'd onr king. 
 
 Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of 
 Buckingham ? 
 
 Buck. JMarry, my lord, lest, by a multitude. 
 The new heal'd wound of malice should breakout, 
 Which would be so much the more dangerous. 
 By how much the estate is green, and yet ud 
 
 govern'd : 
 Where every horse bears his commanding rein, 
 Aud may direct his course as please himself. 
 As well the ff-ar of harm, as harm apparent. 
 In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 
 
 Glo. i hope, tlie kii.g made peace with ail of us. 
 And tne compact >s firm, and true, in lae. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 473 
 
 Jiiv. And so in me ; and so, I think, in all : 
 Vet, since it is but green, it sliould be put 
 'l"o no apparent likelihooJ of breach, 
 NN'liicli, liiip'yi ^y niiich company might be urg'd : 
 'i'liHief'ore I say, with noble Biick.inj;ham, 
 'I'liat it is (ueit so few should fetch the prince. 
 
 Hast. And so say I. 
 
 (ylo. 'J'lien be it so ; and go we to determine 
 ^\ lio they shall be that straijjht shall po»t to Ludlow. 
 Madam,— and you my mother, — will yoji go 
 {"o j.;ive your censures in this weighty business? 
 
 [Exeutit ail but Buckingham and Gloster. 
 
 Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince, 
 For Gud's sake, k-t not \\x two stay at home : 
 i''orj by the way, I'll sort occasion, 
 As index to the story we late talk'd of, 
 To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince. 
 
 Ulo. My other self, my counsel's consistory, 
 My oiacle, my prophet! — My dear cousin, 
 I, as a child, wiJI go by thy dijection. 
 Towards Ludlow tlien, for we'll nut stay beliind. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene III, — The same. A Street. 
 Enter two Citizens, meeting. 
 
 1 Ctt. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither away 
 
 so fast ? 
 
 2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely knov/ myself : 
 tlear you the news abroad i 
 
 1 Cit. Ves ; the king's dead. 
 
 2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady ; seldom comes tlie bet- 
 I i'ear, I fear, 'twill jirove a giddy world. [ter: 
 
 Enter another Citizen. 
 
 'i Cit. Neighbours, God sjieed ! 
 
 1 Cit. Gi\e you good morrow, sir. 
 y Cit. Doth the news hold ol' good king Ed- 
 ward's death i* 
 
 2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the while I 
 
 3 Cit. Tlien, masters, look to see a troublous 
 
 world. [reign. 
 
 ! Cit. No, no ; by God's good grace, his son shall 
 3 Cit. Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a child ! 
 
 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government ; 
 That, in his nonage, council under him. 
 
 And, in hi» full and ripen'd years, himself. 
 
 No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 
 
 1 Cit. So stood the st-ite, when Henry the Sixth 
 ^Vas crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 
 
 3 Cit. Stood the state so ? no, no, good friends, 
 
 God wot; 
 For then this land was famously enrich'd 
 With politic grave counsel ; tlien the king 
 Mad vutuous uncles to protect his grace. 
 
 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and 
 
 mother. 
 .3 Cit. Better it were, they all came by his father; 
 Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
 For emulation now, who shall be nearest, 
 Will touch, us all too near, if God prevent not. 
 O full of danger is the duke of Gloster; 
 And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and 
 
 proud : 
 And were tiiey to be rnl'd, and not to rule, 
 This sickly land might solace as before 
 
 1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst ; all will be 
 
 well. 
 3 Cit. W hen clouds are seen, wise men put on 
 
 tlieir cloaks; 
 W^hen great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ; 
 When the sun sets, who doth not look for night ? 
 Untimely sturins make men expect a dearth: 
 All may be well ; but, if God sort it so, 
 Tis more than we deserve, or I expect 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear: 
 Voti cannot reason almost with a man 
 
 That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 
 
 3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it 8o: 
 By a divine insliDct, men's minds mistrust 
 Eufiuing danger ; as, by proof, we see 
 
 / 
 
 The water swell before a boist'rous storm. 
 But leave it all to God. NVhitlier away? 
 
 2 Cit. Marry, we v/ere sent for tn tlie justice?. 
 
 3 Cit. And so was I ; I'll bear you comijauy. 
 
 [Exeujit. 
 Scene IV. — The same. A Itoom in the Palace. 
 Enter the Archbishop o/ York, the young Dttle of 
 
 VoRK, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of 
 
 York. 
 
 Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at St(uiy- 
 Stratford ; 
 And at Northampton they do rest tonight : 
 To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
 
 Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince; 
 I lidpp. he is much grown since last I saw him. 
 
 Q. Eliz. But I hear, no ; they say, my son of Y'lrk 
 llath almost overta'eu hiui in his growth. 
 
 York. Ay, mother, but I would not h^ve it so, 
 
 Duch. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow. 
 
 York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at sup|)er. 
 My luicie Risers talk'd how I did grow 
 More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster, 
 Small herbs have grace, great iveeds do grow 
 
 apace : 
 And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast. 
 Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make 
 haste. 
 
 Duch. "Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not 
 hold 
 lu him that did object the same to thee: 
 He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young, 
 So long a growing, and so leisurely, 
 'I'hat, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. 
 
 Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious 
 madam 
 
 Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt. 
 
 York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remeni- 
 ber'd, 
 I could have given my uncle's gra(^e a flout. 
 To touch his growth, nearei than he touoh'd mine. 
 
 Duch. How, my young \ork? I pr'ythee, let me 
 hear it. 
 
 York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast, 
 That he could g.naw a crust at two hours old; 
 ' Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
 Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 
 
 Duch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this ? 
 
 Yo7-k. Grandam, his nurse. 
 
 Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thoa 
 wast born. 
 
 York. II 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. 
 
 Q. Eliz. A parlous boy : Go to, you are too shrewd. 
 
 Arch. (Jood midani, be not angry with the child. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Arch. Here comes a messenger. 
 
 What news? 
 
 Dless. Such news, my lord, 
 
 .\s gi ieves me to unfold. 
 
 Q. Eliz. How doth the prince ? 
 
 Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 
 
 Duch. What is thy news ? 
 
 Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to 
 Pom fret. 
 With them sir 'I'homas Vaughan, prisoners. 
 
 Duck. Who hath committed them? 
 
 Mess. The mighty duke 
 
 Gloster and Buckingham. 
 
 Q. Eliz. For what oflTence ? 
 
 Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd ; 
 Why, or for what, the nobles were committed. 
 Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah me, 1 see the ruin of my house I 
 The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; 
 Insulting tyranny begins to jut 
 Upon the imioceut and awless throne: — 
 Welcome, di-struction, blond, and inafiaacre! 
 I see, as in a map, tlie end of all. 
 
472 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! 
 How ninny of yon have mine eyes beheld ? 
 My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
 And often up and down my sons were tost, 
 For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss*. 
 And being seated, and domestic broils 
 Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, 
 Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother, 
 Blood to blood, sell' 'gainst self:— O, preposterous 
 And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen; 
 Or let me die, to look, on death no more ! 
 
 Q. Eiiz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sane- 
 Madam, farewell. [tuary.— 
 
 Duch. Slay, I will go with you. 
 
 Q. Eliz. You have uo cause. 
 
 Arch. My gracious lady, go, 
 
 {To the Queen.) 
 And thither bear your treasure and your goods. 
 For my part, I'll resign unto your grace 
 The seal I kee|i; And so betide to me. 
 As well I tender you, and all of yours ! 
 Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. A Street. 
 The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince o/\Vales, 
 
 Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bourchier, 
 
 and others. 
 
 Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to 
 your ciiamber. [reign : 
 
 Glo. VVelcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove- 
 The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
 
 Prince. No uncle ; but our crosses on the way 
 Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy ; 
 I want more uncles here to welcome me. 
 
 Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your 
 years 
 Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : 
 No more can you distinguish of a man. 
 Than of his outward sliew; which, God he knows, 
 Seldom, or never, jiimpeth with the heart. 
 Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous: 
 Your grace attended to the sugar'd words, 
 .^ut look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
 7od keep you I'rom them, and from such false friends! 
 
 Prince. God keep me from I'alse friends I but 
 they were none. 
 
 Glo. IMy lord, the mayor of London comes to 
 greet you. 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor, atid his Train. 
 
 May. God bless your grace with health and 
 
 ha|)py days ! 
 Prince. I thank you, good my lord; — and (hank 
 you all. — [Exeunt Mayor, §fc. 
 
 \ thought my mother, and my brother York, 
 Would long ere this have met us on the way : 
 Fy, what a slug is Hastings ! that he comes not 
 To tell uSj whether they will come, or no. 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweat- 
 ing lord. 
 
 Prince. Welcome, my lord : What, will our mo- 
 ther come :* 
 
 Hast. Oil what occasion. God he knows, not I, 
 The queen your mother, and your brother Vork, 
 Have taken sanctuary : The tender prince 
 VVotild fain ha\e come with me to m-et your grace. 
 But by his mother was perforce withheld. 
 
 Buck. Fy ! what an indnect and peevish course 
 Is this others? — Lord cardiu.d, wdl your grace 
 Persuade the queen to send the duke of York 
 Uuto his iiiiiicely brother presently'^ 
 If slie (leiiy, — lord Hastings, go w,lh hiin. 
 And from her jealoiis arms pliirk him |.erf.rce. 
 
 Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oraloy 
 ClcD from his mother win the duke of York, 
 Anoa expect him here : But if she be obdurate 
 
 To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid 
 
 We should infringe the noiy privilege 
 
 Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land, 
 
 Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. 
 
 Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord. 
 Too ceremonious, and traditional : 
 Weigh it but with the grossness of this age. 
 You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
 The benefit thereof is always granted 
 To those whose dealings have deserv'd the i)lace. 
 And those who have the wit to claim the place : 
 'I'his prince hath neither claim'fl it, nor deserv'd it ; 
 And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: 
 Then, taking him from thence, that is not there, 
 You break no privilege nor charter there. 
 Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ; 
 But sanctuary children ne'er till now. 
 
 Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind foT 
 once. — 
 Come on, lord Hastings, will you go witlj me ? 
 
 Hast. I go, my lord. 
 
 Prince. Good lords, mike all the speedy haste you 
 may. [Exeunt Cardinal'and Hastings, 
 Say, uncle Gloster, if our brotlier come, 
 Wliere shall we sojourn till our coronation? 
 
 Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. 
 If I may counsel yon, some day, or two, 
 Your highness shall repose you at the Tower : 
 Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit 
 For your best health and recreation. 
 
 Prince. I do not like the 'lower, of any pJace : — 
 Did Julius Csesar build that place, my lord '! 
 
 Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place 
 Which, since, succeeding ages liave re editied. 
 
 Prince. Is it upon record ? or else reported 
 Successively from age to age he built it ? 
 
 Bicck. Upon record, my gracious lorti. 
 
 Prince. But say, my lord, it were not rejiister'd ; 
 Methinks, the trutu shoidd live from age to age. 
 As "twere retaii'd to all posterity, 
 Even to the general all-ending day. 
 
 Glo. So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er livrt 
 long. {Aside.) 
 
 Prince. VVhat say yon, uncle ? 
 
 Glo. I say, without characters, fame lives long. 
 Thus, like the formal % ice, iniquity, i (Aside ] 
 
 I moralize two meanings in ©.■e word. f ^ 
 
 Prince. Tliat Julius Caesar was a famous man ; 
 With what his valour did enrich his wit. 
 His wit set down to make his valour live : 
 Death makes no conquest ol' this conqueror; 
 For now he lives in fame, though not in life. — 
 I'll tell you what, my cousin B.ickingham. 
 
 Buck. What, my gracious lord ? 
 
 Prince. An if 1 live until I be a man, 
 I'll win our ancient rigiit in France again, 
 Or die a soldier, as 1 liv'd a king. 
 
 Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward spring. 
 
 {Asid.:.\ 
 
 Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinai.- 
 
 Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the dnkr- 
 of York. [brother 
 
 Prince. Ricliard of York ! how fares our loviou 
 
 York. Well, my dread lord ; so must 1 call yoi 
 now. 
 
 Prince. Ay, brother ; to our grief, as it is yours : 
 Too late he died, that might have kept that title. 
 Which by his death hatli lost much mHJe.s-ty._ 
 
 Glo. How fares our cousin, noble led oi York ^ 
 
 Jork. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my loni. 
 You said, tliat idl-t weeds are fast in giovvlli : 
 The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 
 
 Glo. He hath, my lord. 
 
 York. And therefore is he idle ? 
 
 Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must aot say so. 
 
 York. Then is he more beholden to you, than I. 
 
 Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign; 
 But you have power in me, as in a LinsmaQ. 
 
 York. I pray you, aucle, then, give me liiis dagger 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 473 
 
 Glo. My dae;3'^r, little cousin ? witlj all my heart. 
 
 Prince. A be^Kiir, brother ? 
 
 York: Ol'iny iciiid uncle, tfiat I know will give ; 
 Alirf, beiiifj but ;» toy, uliicli is mo ijriei' to ^ive. 
 
 Olo. A greater gilt than that I'll ^ive iny consin. 
 
 York. A greater gift ! O, that's liie sword to it? 
 
 Irlo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it li^ht enough. 
 
 Yorh. O then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts ; 
 in weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay. 
 
 Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. 
 
 York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. 
 
 Gto. What, would you have my we.iijon, little 
 lord ? [call nie. 
 
 York. 1 w Hiid, that I might thank vou as yon 
 
 Glo. IloWi' 
 
 York. Little. [talk ;— 
 
 Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in 
 Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with iiim. 
 
 York. Vou mean, to bear nie, not to bear with 
 me : — 
 Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
 Hecaiise Inat I aut little, like an ape, [ders. 
 
 He thinks Ihat.yon should bear nie on your .shonl- 
 
 liiich.\W\\\\ what a sharp-provided wit he reasmis I 
 To niitii;ate the scorn he gives his uncle, 
 He prt-ttdy and aptly taunts himself: 
 So ( unnii.u. and so young, is wonderful. 
 
 Gio. My gracious iora, will't please you pass 
 alon^? 
 Myself, anil my good cousin Buckingham, 
 Will to your mother: to entreat of I pr, 
 To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 
 
 York. VViiat, will you go unto the Tower, my loid ? 
 
 Prince My had protector needs will have it so. 
 
 York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 
 
 Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear ? 
 
 York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost; 
 My grandain told me, he was murder'd there. 
 
 Prince. 1 far no uncles dead. 
 
 Glo. Nor none that live, 1 hope. 
 
 Prince. An if tiiey live, I hope, I need not fear. 
 Hut come, my luril, and, with a heavy heart, 
 Thinkiiig on tiiem, go 1 unto the Tower. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, lor/-, Hastings, Cardinal, 
 and Alte7idants. 
 
 .Bwcifr. Think you, my lord, this little prating York 
 Was not iiicen-!ed by his subtle mother. 
 To taunt and scorn you thus opprobrionsly ? 
 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt: O, 'lis a parlous boy; 
 Bold, f) lick, ingenious, forward, capable ; 
 He's all the niolhtr's, from the top to toe. 
 
 Buck. Well, let them rest. — 
 Come hither, gentle Catesby ; thou art sworn 
 As deeply to elf. ct what we intend, 
 As closely to rmufal what we impart : 
 Thouknow'st our reasons uig'd upon the way; — 
 W^hat tlnnk'st th m I* is it not an easy matter 
 'I'o make Wiilia n 1 ad Hastings of our mind, 
 For the instalment of this noble duke 
 In the seat royal ol this lainous isle":' 
 
 Gate. He fir his father's sake so loves the prince, 
 That he wi'l not be v\ on to aUfjht against him. 
 
 Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will 
 not he ? 
 
 Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
 
 Buck. \\W\ then, no more but this : Go, gentle 
 Catesby, 
 And, as it «ere liirolf, sound thou lord Hastings, 
 How he doth stand ali'ected to our purpose ; 
 And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, 
 To sit about the coronation. 
 If thou dost find him tractable to us, 
 Encourage hiin, and tell him all our reasons : 
 £f he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, 
 He thou so too ; and so break olFthe talk. 
 And give iis notice of his inclination; 
 For we to tnonow hold divided councils. 
 Wherein ih\s.=lf shall highly be employed. 
 
 ilio. l^oduiiend me to lord William : tell him, 
 Catesby, 
 
 His ancient knot of dangerous adveiyarVs 
 To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret castle ; 
 And by my friend, for joy of this good news. 
 Give niislress Shore one gentle kiss the more, i 
 Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business 
 
 soundly. 
 Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. 
 Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere w« 
 Cate. Vou shall, my lord. [sleep ? 
 
 Glo. At Crosby-piace, there shall vou find us 
 „ , b.th. [Exit Valesby. 
 
 Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if uo 
 perceive 
 Lrn-d Hastings will not yield to our complots ? 
 
 Glo. Ciiop olf his head, man;— somewhat we 
 will do- — 
 And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
 J'he earldom of Hereford, and all the movea'bles 
 Whereol the king my brother was possessed. 
 Buck. I'll ciaim tliat promise at your grace's hand. 
 Glo. And look, to have it yielded witii all kindness. 
 Conie, let us su,. betimes; that afterwards 
 We may digest our complots in some form. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene W.— Before Lord Hustinys House. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, my lord,— (Knocking.) 
 
 Hast. [JVil/un.) Who knocks ? 
 
 ,r *'■ ,.... ■ One from Lord Stanley. 
 
 Hast. [Wit/iin.) What is't o'clock'^ 
 Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. Cannot thy master sleep the tedious nights? 
 
 Mess. So it should seem by that I have to say. 
 First, he commends him to your noble lordship. 
 
 Hast. And tl^en, — 
 
 Mess. And then he sends you word, he dreamt 
 To-nii>ht the boar had rased off his helm : 
 Besides, he says, there are two councils held ; 
 And that may be determin'd at the one. 
 Which may make you and him to rue at the othej 
 Therefore lie sends to know your iordships i)kj 
 
 sure, — 
 If presently, you will take horse with him, 
 And with all speed post with him toward the norin. 
 To shun the danger that his soul daines. 
 
 Hast. Go. lelhnv, go, leturn unto tliy lord ; 
 Bid him not fear the separated councils : 
 His honour, and myself, are at the one ; 
 And, at the other, is my good friend Catesby ; 
 Where nothing r:an proceed, that toiichelh us. 
 Whereof I shall not ha\e intelligence. 
 Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance; 
 And for his dreams — I wonder, he's so tbiid 
 To trust the mockery of unquiet slumliers ; 
 To fly the boar, belitre the boar pursues, 
 Were to incense the boar to fi)llovv us, 
 And make pursuit, wher^ he did mean no chase. 
 Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ; 
 And we will both together to the Tower, 
 Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. 
 
 Mess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you sav. 
 
 [Exit 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cate. Many good mor.-ows to my noble lord ! 
 Hast. Good morrow, Catesby ; yon are early 
 stirring : 
 Whatnevvs, what news, in this our totterine state'' 
 ' Cate. It, is a reeling world, indeed, my lord ; 
 And, 1 believe, will never stand upright. 
 Till Richard wear the garland of the reidui. 
 
 Hast. How ! wear the garland ? dost tiiou mi an 
 
 the crown '^ 
 ^rr/e. Ay, my good lord. fshoulcei.s, 
 
 I Hast. I'll hu\e this crown of mine cut fioi-j nj 
 1 Before I'll see the crown so foul misplar'd. 
 I But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? 
 
474: 
 
 KING RICHARD :IL 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Cale. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find you 
 forward 
 Upon liis party, for the gain thereof: 
 And, thereupon, he sends you this good news, — 
 That, this same very day, your enemies. 
 The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 
 
 Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news. 
 Because they have been still my adversaries : 
 But. that I'll give my voice on Richaid's side. 
 To oar my master's heirs in true descent, 
 God knows, I will not do it, to the death. 
 
 Cate. God keep your lordship in that gracious 
 mind ! [hence, — 
 
 Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month 
 That they, who brought me in my master's hate, 
 I live to look upon their tragedy. 
 Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
 I'H send some packing, that yet think not oo't. 
 
 Cate. ''I'is a vile tiling to die, my gracious lord. 
 When men are unprepar'd, and look not for it. 
 
 Hast. O monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls it out 
 With Hivers, Vaughau, Grey: and so 'twill do 
 With some men else, who think themselves as safe 
 As thou, and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
 To jirincely Richard, and to Buckingiiam. 
 
 Cate. The princes both make higli nicount of you, — 
 For tiiey account his head upon tiie bridge. [Aside.) 
 
 Hast. I know, they do; and 1 have well deserv'dit. 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, man ? 
 Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided '■' 
 
 Stan. My lord, good morrow ; and good morrow, 
 Catesby : 
 You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, 
 t do not like these several councils, I. 
 
 Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours; 
 And never, in my life, 1 do protest, 
 W^as it more prei-.ious to me than 'tis now : 
 Think you, but that I know our state secure, 
 [ would be so triumphant as I am ? 
 
 Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode 
 from London, 
 Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure. 
 And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust; 
 But yet, you see, how soon the day o'er-cast. 
 This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt; 
 Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward ! 
 What, shall we toward the Tower'!" thedaj is spent. 
 
 Hast. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you 
 what, my lord '! 
 To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
 
 Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear 
 their heads. 
 Than some, that have accus'd them, wear their hats. 
 But come, my lord, let's away. 
 
 Enter a Pursuivant. 
 
 Hast. Go on before, I'll talk with this good 
 fellow. [Exeunt Stan, and Catesby. 
 
 How now. sirrali? how goes the world with tliee V 
 
 Purs, 'i'he better, that your lordship please to ask. 
 
 Hast. 1 tell thee, mm, 'tis better with me now, 
 'I'lian when thou met'st me last where now we meet: 
 Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, 
 By the sugi;esti;in of the queen's allies; 
 But now, i tell thee, (keep it to thyself) 
 This day those enemies are put to death, 
 And I in better state than ere 1 was. 
 
 Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good content I 
 
 Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink that for 
 me. {T/irowin;/ him his purse.) 
 
 Purs. I thank your honour. [Exit Pursuivant. 
 
 Enter a Priest. 
 Pr. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see your 
 honour. [heart. 
 
 Hast. I thank thee, good sir John, with all my 
 I am in your debt for your last exercise ; 
 Coiue the neit Sabbath, and 1 will content you. 
 
 Enter BdcKINOHAm. 
 
 Buck. What, talking with a pri'sst, lord cham. 
 berlain? 
 Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the prie.st ; 
 Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. 
 
 Hast. 'Good fiiith, and when 1 met tliis holy nian^ 
 The men j'ou talk of came into iny mind. 
 What, goyou toward tiie Tower ? [there : 
 
 Buck. I do, my lord ; but long I cannot steiy 
 I shall return before your lordship llience. 
 
 Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner tliere. 
 
 Buck. And supper too, althougli tliou knowst it 
 not. [Aside.) 
 
 Come, will you go ? , 
 
 Hast. I'll wait upon your lordship. 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Pomfret. Before the Castle. 
 
 Enter Ratcliff, ivifh a <!%iai d, conducting RiVKRS, 
 Grey, a7id Vaughan, to execution. 
 
 Pat. Come, bring forth the prisoners. 
 
 Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me 'tell thee this, — 
 To day, shait thou behold a subject die, 
 For truth, for duty, and for loyalty, 
 
 Grey.Good keep the prince froniall thepackof you! 
 A knot you are of damned blood suckers. 
 
 Vautjh. \'ou live, that shall cry woe for this 
 hereafter. 
 
 Pat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is out. 
 
 Piv. O Pomfret, Pomlret! O thou bloody piison, 
 Falal and ominous to noble peers! 
 VVitliiii the guilty closure of thy walls, 
 Richard the .Second here was hack'd to death 
 And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, 
 We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. 
 
 Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our 
 heads. 
 When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and 1, 
 For standing by when Richard stabb'dher son. 
 
 Piv. Then cars'd she Hastings, then curs'd she 
 Buckingham, 
 Tlien curs'd she Richard : — O, remendier, God, 
 To hear her prayers for them, as now for us ! 
 And for my sister, and her princely sotis, — 
 Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods, 
 Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt! 
 
 Pat. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate. 
 
 Riv. Come, Grey, — come, Vaughan, — let ushere 
 embrace : 
 Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — London. A Room in the Toiver. 
 
 Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the Bishop o 
 Ely. Catesby, Lovel, and others, sitting at a 
 table : officers of the council attending. 
 
 Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met 
 Is — to determine of the coronation : 
 In God's name, speak, when is the royal day? 
 
 Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time ? 
 
 Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination, 
 
 Kly. To-morrow then I judge a happy day. 
 
 Buck. Wi'.o knows the lord protector's mind 
 herein .'' 
 Who is most inward with the noble duke ? 
 
 Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know 
 his mind. [hearts,- 
 
 Buck. We know each other's faces : for our 
 He knows no more of mine, than 1 of v ours ; 
 Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine ; — 
 Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 
 
 Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well ; 
 But, for his purpose in the corontition, 
 I have not sounded iiirn, nor he deliver'd 
 His gracious pleasure any wa«,' therein: 
 But you, my noble lord, may name the time ; 
 And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, 
 Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KING IIICILUID III. 
 
 4T5 
 
 Enter Gloster 
 
 E/u. In Iiappy time, here conies the duke himself. 
 G/a. My noble lords and cousins, all, good 
 morrow : 
 I have been lonR a sleeper; but. I trust. 
 My absence doth neglect no great desisfn^ 
 \\ hicli by my presence might have been concluded. 
 IhicL: Hud you not come upon your cue, my lord, 
 «Villiam lord Hastintjs had proiiounc'd your part, — 
 mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king. 
 GVo. Than my lord Hastings, no riian nught be 
 bolder; 
 fiis loidsliip knows me well, and loves me well. — 
 i\ly lo:d ol Ely, when T was last in Hoiborn, 
 I saw good strawberries in your garden there ; 
 I do beseech you, send for some of tiiein. 
 Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all mv heart. 
 
 [Exit Ely. 
 Glo. Cousin of Buckinglr.m, a word with you. 
 
 [Takes him aside.) 
 Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ; 
 And finds the testy gentleman so hot. 
 That he will lose his head, ere ffive consent, 
 His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it. 
 Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. 
 
 Buck. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll so with you. 
 [Exeunt Gloster and Buchinglianu 
 Stan, We have not yet set down this day of 
 triumph. 
 To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden, 
 For I myself am not so well provided. 
 As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. 
 
 Re-enter Bishop o/Ely. 
 
 Ely. Where is my lord protector ? I have sent 
 For these s'trawberries, [morning; 
 
 Hast. His grace looks cheerfidly and smooth this 
 There's some co-nceitor other likes him well. 
 When he doth bid good morrow with such spirit. 
 ! tliink, there's ne'er a man in Ciiristendom, 
 Oan lesser hide his love, or hate, than he ; 
 For by his face straight shall you know his heari. 
 
 Stan. W^hat of his heart perceive you in his face. 
 By any likelihood he shew'd to day ? 
 
 Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is 
 ofl'ended ; 
 For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. 
 
 Be.-enter Gloster and Buckinoham. 
 
 Glo. 1 pray you all, tell me what they deserve, 
 ':'!i it do conspire my death with devilish plots 
 Of diimned witchcraft ; and that have prevail'd 
 i poij my body with their hellish charms ? 
 
 Hast. The tetiderlove I b°ar your grace, my lord, 
 'lakes me most forward in this noble presence 
 'o doom the offenders : Whosoe'er they be, 
 1 say, my lord, they have deserved deatii. 
 
 Glo. 'I'hen be your eyes the witness of their evil, 
 Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm 
 Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : 
 And this is Edwards wife, that monstrous witch, 
 Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, 
 That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 
 
 Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble 
 lord. 
 
 Glo. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet, 
 Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? — Thou art a traitor : — 
 Oifwith his head; — now, by saint Paul 1 swear, 
 I will not dine until I see the same. — 
 l.ovel, and Catesby, look, that it be done; 
 The rest, that lo\e me, rise, and follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt Council, ivith Gloster and 
 Biicl-ini/ham. 
 
 Hast. Woe, woe, fur England ! not a whit for me ; 
 For I, too fond, might have prevented this : 
 .Stanley did dream, the boar did rase his helm; 
 But I disdaiu'd it, and did scorn to fly. 
 'I'hree t;'n«es to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble. 
 And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
 As /oath to bear me to the slaughterhouse. 
 
 O, now I want the priest that spake io ise: 
 I now repent I told the pursuivant, 
 As too triumphing, l;ow mine enemies 
 Today at Pomfret bloo<liiy were b-itcher'd, 
 And 1 myself secure in grace and favour. 
 O, iMargaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
 Is liohted on poor Hastings' wretched head. 
 
 Gate. Despatch, my lord, the duke would be a 
 dinner ; 
 Make a short shrift, he longs to see j'our head. 
 
 Hast. O momentary grace of nioilul men, 
 Which we more hunt for than the grace ol God! 
 Wlio builds his hope in air of your fair look.s. 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
 Re.idy, with every nod, to tumble down 
 Into the fatal bowels oi the deep. 
 
 Lov. Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to 
 exclaim. 
 
 Hast. O, bloody Richard ! — miserable England ! 
 I propliesy the fearful'st time to thee, 
 'I'iiat ever wretched age hath look'd upon. 
 Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head ; 
 They smile at me, who shortly siiall be dead. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ScEVE Y.—The saiHe. The Tower Walls. 
 
 Enter Gloster and Buckingham in riisti/ armour, 
 mnrvf.llous ill-favoured. 
 
 Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change 
 thy colour i 
 Murder thy breath in middle of a word, — 
 And then again begin, and stop again. 
 As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror . 
 
 Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; 
 Speak, and look back, and pry on every side. 
 Tremble and start at wagging of a stravy, 
 Intending deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
 Are at my service, like enforced smiles: 
 And both are ready in their offices, 
 Xi any time, to grace my stratagems. 
 But what, is Catesby gone V 
 
 Glo. He is ; and see, h'? brings the mayor along. 
 
 E'lter the Lord Mayor and Catessy. 
 Buck. Let nie alone to entertain him. — Ltord 
 
 mayor, 
 Glo. Look to the draw-bridge there. 
 Buck. Hark, hark ! a drum. 
 
 Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the 'valls. [you,— 
 
 Back. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent for 
 Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are enemie.s. 
 Buck. God and our innocence defend and guard 
 
 us.' 
 
 Enter LovEL and Ratcliff, ivilhHastiny.i's head. 
 
 Glo. Be I atient, they are friends; Ratcliff, aad 
 Lovel. 
 
 Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor. 
 The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 
 
 Glo. So dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep. 
 I took him for the plainest harude.ss't creature. 
 That bieath'd upon the earth a christian; 
 Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
 The history of all her secret thoughts: 
 So smooth he daubd his vice with shew of virtue. 
 That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 
 I mean, his conversation with Sliore's wife, — 
 He liv'd from all attainder of suspect. [traitor 
 
 Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd 
 That ever liv'd. — Look you, my lord mayor, 
 \Vould you imagine, or almost believe, 
 (Were't not, that by great preservation 
 We live to tell it yon,) the subtle traitor 
 This day had plotted, in the council-house. 
 To murder nie, and my good lord of Gloster? 
 
 May. What ! had he so ? 
 
 Glo. What! think you we are Turks, or infidels.' 
 Or that we would, against the form of law. 
 Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death; 
 But that the extreme peril of the case. 
 The peace of England, and our persons' safety. 
 
476 
 
 KL\G RICHARD III. 
 
 ICT III. 
 
 EnforcM ur to this execution ? 
 
 Mmj. Now, fair befiil you ! he deserv'd iiis death ; 
 Ami your sood graces both have well proceeded, 
 'l\> warn false traitors from tiie like attempts. 
 i ne-.er loi.k'd tor better at his hands, 
 After he once fell in with mistress Shore. 
 
 BurL: Vet had ue not deteriuin'd he slioidd die, 
 Until your lurdsinp came to see his end ; 
 Wliieh now llie l<)\insf haste ot' these onr friends, 
 .Somewhat ai;; inst (lur meaninjr, hath [irf vented : 
 Because, my lord, we would ha\e had you heard 
 Tlie traitor speak, and timorously confess 
 'J'ne manner and the purpose of liis treasons ; 
 That you might well lia\e signified the same 
 Unto the cit:zens, who, haply,' may 
 Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death. 
 
 Mat/. But, my good lord, your grace's word shall 
 serve, 
 As well as I had seen, aad heard him speak : 
 And do not doul)t, right noble [uinces both, 
 But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens 
 With all your just proceedings in this case. 
 
 G/u. And to that end we wish'd your lordship here, 
 To avoid the censures of the carping world. 
 
 Buck. But since you caiwe too late of our intent, 
 Yet witness what you hear we did intend : 
 And so, my good lord major, we bid farewell. 
 
 I E.vit Lord Mayor, 
 
 G!o. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. 
 The mayor towards Guddhall hies him in all post : — 
 There, at your meetest vantage of the time, 
 fnferthe bastardy of Edward's cliildren : 
 Tell them, how Edward nut to death a citizen, 
 Only for saying— he would make his son 
 Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his house. 
 Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. 
 Moreover, urge liishateiid luxury. 
 And bestial appetite in change of lust ; [wives. 
 
 Which stretcird unto their servants, daughters. 
 Even where his raging eye, or sa\age heart, 
 Without controul. listed to make his prey 
 Nay, ((ir a need, thus far come near my person : — 
 'JVll them, when that my mother went with child 
 Oi'that insatiate Edward, noble York. 
 My princely father, then had wars in France ; 
 And, by just computation of the time, 
 Found, that the issue was not his begot ; 
 Which well appeared in his lineaments. 
 Being nolhinu like the noble duke my lather: 
 Yet (ouch th^ sparingly, as 'twere far olf ; 
 Because, niy lord, you know, my mother lives. 
 
 Buck. Doubt not. my lord : I'll play the orator. 
 As it the golden fee, for which 1 plead. 
 Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. 
 
 Clo. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's 
 castle ; 
 Where you shall find me well accom|)anied. 
 With reverend fitliers, and well-learned bishops. 
 
 Buck. I go: and, towards three or four o'clock. 
 Look tiir the news that the Guildhall allords. 
 
 [Exit Buckingham. 
 
 Olo. Go, Lovel,with all speed to Doctor Sh.nv, — 
 Go tliou (to Cat.) to friar Penker ; — bid them both 
 Meet me, within this hour, at B:iyiiards castle. 
 
 [Exeunt Lovel and Cutesby. 
 Now will I in, to take some privy order 
 To draw the brats of Clarence out ol sight ; 
 And to give notice, tliat no manner ol person 
 Have, any time, recourse unto the prince.s. [Exit. 
 
 Scene 'VI. — A Street. 
 Enter a Scrivener. 
 Scriv. Here is the inilictment of the good lord 
 Hastings ; 
 Which in a st-t hand fiiilv is engross'd. 
 That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's 
 And mark ii(nv well the sequel hangs together: — 
 Eleven hours 1 lia\e spent to write it over. 
 For ycteriiight by Catesby was it sent me; 
 Tt«e precedent was full as long a doing: 
 
 And yet within these five hours Hastings !iv'd. 
 
 Untainted, unexaniin'd, free, at liberty. 
 
 Here's a good world the while ! — \\ ho is so gross. 
 
 That cannot see this p:ilp«ble de\icc '. 
 
 Yet who so bold, but says — he sees it not ? 
 
 Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought, 
 
 W hen such bad deaiing must be seen in thought. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. — The same. Court of Baynard's 
 CaUle. 
 
 Enter Glostek and Bucivinciiam, meeliny. 
 
 (l/o. How now, how now ? what s^iy the citizens . 
 
 Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
 The citizens are muni ; say not a word. 
 
 Clo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Ed ward's child- 
 ren ';" 
 
 Buck. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, 
 .'\nd his coiitiact by deputy in France : 
 The insatiate greedines ol his desires. 
 And his enlorcemeiit of the city wivts; 
 His tyranny liir triiles ; his own bastardy, — 
 As being got, your lather then in France ; 
 And his resemblance, being not like the duke. 
 Withal, I did infer your lineaments, 
 Being the right idea of your father, 
 Both in your form and nobleness of mind ; 
 Laid 0|)en all your victoiies in Scotland, 
 Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, 
 V our bounty, virtue, lair humility : 
 Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose, 
 Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. 
 And, when my oratory grew to an end, 
 I bade them, that did love their ccumtry's good. 
 Cry — God save Richard. En<jland's royal king ! 
 
 Glo. And did they so;' Iword ; 
 
 Buck. No, so God help nie, they spake not a 
 But, like dumb statuas, or breatliless .stones, 
 Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale. 
 Which when I saw, I re[)rehended them ; 
 And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence : 
 His answer was — the people were not us'd 
 'J'o be spoke to, but by the recorder. 
 Then he was uig'd to tell my tale again : — 
 Thus sailh the duke, thus hath the duke inferred. 
 But nothing spoke in warrant fioiu himself. 
 When he had done, s(mie followers ol mine own. 
 At lower end o the hall, hurl'd up their caps. 
 And some ten voices cried, God save kiny tUchard'. 
 And thus I took tiie vantage ol those lew, — 
 Thanks, yentle citizens, and friends, quotli I; 
 This general applause, and cheerful shout. 
 Aryues your wisdom and your love to Richard: 
 And even here brake olY, and came away. 
 
 Glo. What fongueless blocks weie they; Would 
 they not speak '? 
 Will not the mayor then, and his bretlien, toiue i" 
 
 Buck. The mayor is 111 re at hand; intend some fear; 
 Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: 
 And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, 
 And stand between two churchmen, gocid my loi d : 
 For on that ground 111 make a holy de.scant : 
 And be not easily won to our requests ; 
 Play the maid's pari, still answer nay, and take it. 
 
 Glo. I go; And if you plead as vvell for them. 
 As 1 can say nay to thee for myself. 
 No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. 
 
 Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor 
 knocks. l^'.*-'' Gloster. 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizuns. 
 Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here • 
 I think, the duke will not be spoke w^HmI.— 
 
 Enter, from the Castle, Catesby. 
 
 Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my request ? 
 Gate. He doth entreat your grace, my i ohle lord, 
 To visit him to morrow, or next day : 
 W" is witiiiii, with two right reverend fathen. 
 Divinely bent to meditation: ^ 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 477 
 
 And in no worldly suit would he be raov'd, 
 Ti) draw liiiii trom his holy exercise. 
 
 Buck: Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke ; 
 Tell liim, myself, the mayor and aldermen, 
 In di-e|j designs, in matter of great moment. 
 No less iniporting than our general good. 
 Are come lo liave some conference with his grace. 
 
 Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Buck. All, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Ed- 
 (le is \\<t Inlling on a lewd day-bed, [ward! 
 
 Hut on his knees at meditation 
 Not diillying with a brace of courtesans, 
 But medit;itiiifj with two deep divines ; 
 Not sleepint:, to engross his idle body, 
 But iiruyiiiy, to enrich his uatchlul soul: 
 Happy were England, would this virtuous prince 
 'I'ake on liimsell the sovereignty thereof: 
 But, sure, I fear, we sImH ne'er win iiim to it. 
 
 May. Marry, God defend, his grace should say 
 us nay ! [again ; — 
 
 Buck. I fear, he will : Here Catesby comes 
 
 Re-enter Catesby. 
 
 Now, Catesby, what says his grace ? 
 ' Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled 
 Sucli troops of citizens to come to him. 
 His grace not being warn'd (hereofbefore, 
 He ft-ars, my lord, you mean no goo 1 to him. 
 Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should 
 Suspect me, tiiat I mean lOKOcd to him: 
 By heaven, we come to hira ia perfect love ; 
 And so once more return and tell his grace. 
 
 [Exit Cateshy. 
 When holy and devout religious men 
 Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence ; 
 So sweet is zealous contemplation. 
 
 Enter Gloster, in a fjallery above, between two 
 Bishops. Catesby returns. 
 
 May. See where his grace stands 'tween two 
 clergymen ! 
 
 Buck. Two props of virtue for a christian prince, 
 To stay him from the fall of vanity : 
 And, see, a book of prayer in his hand ; 
 True ornaments to know a holy rnan. — 
 Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince. 
 Lend favourable ear to our requests ; 
 And pardon us the interruption 
 Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal. 
 
 Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology ; 
 I rather do beseech you pardon me. 
 Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
 Neglect the visitation of my friends. 
 But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure ? 
 
 Buck. El en that, I hope, which pleaseth God 
 above, ^ 
 
 And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. 
 
 Glo. I do suspect, I have done some ofTence, 
 That seems disgracious in the city's eye ; 
 And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. 
 
 Buck. You have, my lord; Would it might 
 jdease your grace. 
 On our entreaties to amend your fault! 
 
 Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian 
 land? [sign 
 
 Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you re- 
 The supreme seat, the throne .7iajestical, 
 The gcepter'd office of your ancestors. 
 Your state of fortune, and your due of birth. 
 The lineal glory of your royal house, 
 To the corruption of a blemish'd stock: 
 Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
 (Which here we waken to our country's good,) 
 i'he noble isle doth want her proper limbs ; 
 Her face defac'd with scars ot infamy, 
 Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, 
 And almost siioulder'd in the swallowing gulf 
 or dark furgetfulness and deep oblivion. 
 Which to recure, we heartily solicit 
 
 Your gracious self to take on you tiie charge 
 
 And kingly governinent of this your land : 
 
 Not as protector, slewanl, substitute. 
 
 Or lowly factor for another's gain : 
 
 But as successively, from blood to blood. 
 
 Your right of birth, your empery, your own 
 
 For this, consorted with the citizens, 
 
 lour very worshipful and loving friends, 
 
 And by their vehement instigation, 
 
 In this just suit come I to move your grace. 
 
 Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence. 
 Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, 
 Best fitteth my degree, or your condition : 
 If, not to answer, — you might haply think, 
 l^ongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
 To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, 
 VVhich fondly you would here impose on me 
 If to reprove you for this suit of yours, 
 So season'd with your faithful love to me. 
 Then, on the other side, I check 'd my friends. 
 Therefore, — to speak, and to avoid the first; 
 .\nd then, in speaking, not to incur the last, — 
 Definitively thus I answer you. 
 Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert 
 Unmeritable, shuns your high request. 
 First, if all obstacles were cut away. 
 And that my path were even to the crown, 
 As the ripe revenue and due of birth ; 
 Yet so much to my poverty of spirit, 
 So mighty, and so many, my defects. 
 That I would rather hide ine from my greatness, — 
 Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, — 
 Than in my greatness covet to be hid, 
 And in the vapour of my glory sinotlier'd. 
 But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me ; 
 (And much I need to help you, if need were;) 
 The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, 
 Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, 
 Will well become the seat of majesty. 
 And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
 On him I lay what you would lay on me. 
 The right and fortune of his happy stars. — 
 Which. God defend, that I should wring froiti bira. 
 
 Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your 
 grace ; 
 But the respects thereof are nice and trivial. 
 All circumstances well considered. 
 You say, that Edward is your brother's son ; 
 So say we too, but not by Edward's wife : 
 For first he was contract to lady Lucy, 
 Your mother lives a witness to his vow ; 
 And afterwards by isubstitute betroth'd 
 'I'o Bona, sister to the king of France. 
 These both put by, a poor petitioner, 
 A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, 
 A beauty-waning and distressed widow. 
 Even in the afternoon of her best days, 
 Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, 
 Seduc'd the pitcn and height of all his thoughts 
 To base declension and loath'd bigamy : 
 By her, in his unlawful bed, he got 
 This Edward, whom our manners call — the prince. 
 More bitterly could I expostulate. 
 Save that, for reverence to some alive, 
 I give a sparing limit to my tongue. 
 Then, good my lord, take to your royal self 
 'i'his profler'd benefit of dignity : 
 If not to bless ns and the land withal. 
 Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry 
 From the corruption of abusing time, 
 Unto n lineal true-derived course. [yon. 
 
 31rr!/. Do, good my lord ; your citizens entreat 
 
 Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proller'd love. 
 
 C(/te. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful 
 suit. 
 
 Glo. Alas, why would yon heap those cares on me"* 
 I am unfit tor state and majesty : — ' 
 
 I do beseech you, take it not amiss : 
 I cannot, nor i will not yield to you. 
 
 Buck, if you refuse it, — as in love and zeal. 
 
478 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Loath to (Jeijose'llie chiW, your brother's son ; 
 As well we know your tenderness of heart. 
 And f;entle, kind, "effeminate remorse, _ 
 Wliich we have noted in you to your kindred, 
 And equally, indeed, to all estates,— 
 Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, 
 Your brother's son shall never reign our king ; 
 But we will plant some other in your throne, 
 To the disgrace and downfall of your house. 
 And, in this resolution,- here we leave you; — 
 Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. 
 
 [Exeuni Buckinyhatn and Citizens. 
 
 Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their 
 suit: 
 f you deny them, all the land will rue it. 
 
 Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? 
 Well, call them again ; I am not made of stone. 
 But penetrable to your kind entreaties, 
 
 [Exit Cateshy. 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 
 
 Reenter Buckingham, and the rest. 
 
 Cousin of Buckingham, — and sage, grave men, — 
 
 Since you will buckle fortune on my back. 
 
 To bear her burden, wh'er I will, or no, 
 
 1 must have patience to endure the load : 
 
 But if black scandal, or foul fac'd reproach. 
 
 Attend the sequel of your imposition, 
 
 Vour mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
 
 From ail the impure blots and stains thereof; 
 
 For God he knows, and you may partly see, 
 
 How far I am from the desire of this. [say it. 
 
 May. God bless your grace ! we see it, and will 
 
 Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. 
 
 Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title, — 
 Long live king Richard, England's worthy king ! 
 
 All. Amen. 
 
 Bzjc/t.To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd ? 
 
 Glo. Even when youplease, since you will have 
 it so. [grace ; 
 
 Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your 
 And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. 
 
 Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again : — 
 
 {To the Bishops.) 
 Farewell, good cousin ; — farewell, gentle friends. 
 
 [Exeunt' 
 ACT IV. 
 Scene I. — Before the Tower. 
 
 Enter, on one side, Queen Elizabeth, Duchess of 
 York, and Marquis of Dorset; on the other, 
 Anne, Duchess of Gloster, leading Lady 
 Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence's young 
 daughter. 
 
 Duck. Who meets us liere ? — ray niece Planta- 
 genet 
 Led in (he hand by her kind aunt of Gloster? 
 iNow, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, 
 Oil pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince. — 
 Daughter, well met. 
 
 Anne. God give your graces both 
 
 A happy and a joyful time of day \ 
 
 Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither 
 away ? [guess, 
 
 Anne. No further than the Tower ; and, as I 
 Upon the like devotion as yourselves, 
 To gratiilate the gentle princes there, [gether : 
 
 Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks ; we'll enter all to- 
 
 Eiiter Brakenbury. 
 And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. — 
 Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave. 
 How doth the prince, and my young son of York? 
 
 Erak. lliuht well, dear madam ; By your pa- 
 f may not sulFer you to visit them ; [tieuce, 
 
 Tl<e king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. 
 
 Q. Eliz. The king! who's that? 
 
 Brak. I mean, the lord protector. 
 
 Q. Eliz. The Lord orotect him from that kingly 
 title : 
 
 Hath he set bounds between flieir love, and me ? 
 I am their mother, who shall bar me from them? 
 
 Duck. I am their fatiier's mother, I will see them. 
 
 Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their 
 mother : 
 Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame. 
 And take thy office from itliee, on thy peril. 
 
 Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so ; 
 I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. 
 
 [Exit Brakenbury 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 iS/rtM. Letme butmeetyou, ladies, one hour hence 
 And I'll salute your grace of Y'ork as mother, 
 And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. — 
 Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. 
 
 {To the Duchess of Gloster. 
 There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder! 
 That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, 
 Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. 
 
 Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news ! 
 
 Dor. Be of good clieer : — JVlother, how fares 
 
 your grace ; 
 
 [gone. 
 
 Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee 
 Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ; 
 Thy mother's name is ominous to children : 
 If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas. 
 And live with llichmond, from the reach of hell. 
 Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house. 
 Lest thou increase the number of the dead; 
 And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, — 
 Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. 
 
 Stan. Fn\l of wise care is this your counsel, 
 madam : — 
 Take all the swift advantage of the hours: 
 You shall luwe letters from me to my son 
 In \our behalf, to meet you on the way : 
 Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. 
 
 Duck, O ill-dispersing wind of misery I 
 O my accursed womb, the bed of death ; 
 A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world. 
 Whose unavoided eye is murderous ! 
 
 Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was sent 
 
 A?ine. And I with all unwillingness will go. — 
 O, would to God, that the inclusive verge 
 Of golden metal, that must round my brow. 
 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 
 Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
 And die, ere men can say — God save the queen ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory ; 
 To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. 
 
 Anne. No ! why ? — When he, that is my hus- 
 band now. 
 Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse ; [hands, 
 When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his 
 Which issu'd from my other angel husband, 
 And that dead saint which then I weeping ibllow'd ; 
 O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, 
 'i'liis was my wish,— £e thou, quoth 1, accurs'd, 
 For making me, so young, so old a loidow ! 
 And, when thou wcd'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed 
 And be thy wife {if any be so mad) 
 More miserable by the life oftkee, 
 Than thou kast made me by my dear lord's death ! 
 Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, 
 E\ en in so short a space, my woman's heart 
 Grossly grew captive to his honey words, 
 .4nd prov'd the subject of mine own soiil's curse ; 
 Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest ; 
 For never yet one hour in his bed 
 Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep. 
 But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. 
 Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick, 
 And will, no doubt, shortly he rid of me. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complaimnt:. 
 
 Anne. No more than with my soul 1 niijnrn for 
 yours. 
 
 Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory . 
 
 Anne. Adieu, pow soul, that tak'st thy leave ol it 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING RICHARD Hi 
 
 479 
 
 Duck. Go (lion to Richmond, and jr"od fortune 
 
 guide thee ! (To Dorset.) 
 
 Golhoa to l{ichard, and good angels tend thee! — 
 
 (To Anne. J 
 Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess 
 thee! {To Q . Elizabeth.) 
 
 I to my grave, where peace and rest he wilh me ! 
 Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen. 
 And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen. 
 Q. Eliz. Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the 
 Tower. — 
 Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, 
 Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls! 
 Jloiigh cradle for such little pretty ones! 
 U'lifie ragged nurse ! old sullen play fellow 
 (•'■>r tender princes, use my babies well ! 
 So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene II. — A Room of State in the Palace, 
 flourish of troumpets. Richard, as King upon 
 his throne; Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, 
 tend others. 
 
 K. Rich. Stand all apart. — Cousin of Bucking- 
 Buck. My gracious sovereign. [liam, — 
 
 K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy 
 advice. 
 And thy assistance, is king Richard seated : — 
 liiit shall we wear these glories for a day ? 
 Or shall tliey last, and we rejoice in them? 
 Buck. Still live they, and for ever let thena last ! 
 K. Rich. Ah, Uuckingham, now do I play the 
 touch, 
 !''> try if tliou be current gold, indeed : — 
 \ oiiug Edward lives ; — Think now what I would 
 speak. 
 Buck. Say on, my loving lord. iking. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be 
 Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege. 
 K. Rich. Ha ! am I king ? 'Tis so : but Edward 
 Back. True, noble prince. [lives. 
 
 K. Rich. O bitter consquence, 
 
 Tiiat Edward still should live, — true, noble prince! — 
 Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull ; — 
 Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead ; 
 And 1 would have it suddenly perform'd. 
 What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief. 
 Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. 
 K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art ali ice, thy kindness 
 freezes : 
 S:jy, have I thy consent that they shall die ? 
 
 Back. Give me some breath, some little pause, 
 Helore I positively speak in this: [dear lord, 
 
 1 will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit. 
 
 Cate. The king is angry ; see, he gnaws his lip. 
 
 {Aside^ 
 K. Rich^ I will converse with iron-witted fools, 
 {Descends from his throne.) 
 knd unrespective boys; none are for me, 
 'I'hitt look mto me with considerate eyt- s ; — 
 High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. — 
 Boy, — 
 Page. My lord , [ing gold 
 
 K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupt- 
 '■V ould tempt unto a close ex|jloit of death? 
 Page. I know a discontented gentleman, 
 Whose iiumble means match not his haughty mind : 
 Gold wer"" as good as twenty orators. 
 And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. 
 K. Rich. What is his name ? 
 Pane. His name, my lord, is — Tyrrel. 
 
 K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go. call him 
 hither, boy. — [Exit Page. 
 
 The deep-revolving witty Buckingham 
 No more sliall be the neighbour to my counsels: 
 Hath he so long held out with me untir'd. 
 And stops he now ior breath ? — well, be it so. — 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 How now, lord Stanley ? what's the news ? 
 Utan. Know, my loving lord. 
 
 The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled 
 
 To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. 
 
 K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby , rumour is abroad. 
 That Anne, my wife, is very giievorus sick; 
 I will take order for her keeping close. 
 Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman. 
 Whom 1 will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: — 
 The boy is foolish, and I fear not hinv — 
 Liook, how thou dream'st ! — I say again, give out. 
 That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die : 
 About it ; for it stands me much upon. 
 To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me. — 
 
 [Exit Cat esbg 
 I must be married to my brother's daughter, 
 Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. 
 Murder her brothers, and then marry her ! 
 Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in 
 So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin. 
 Tear-falling pity dwells not m this eye. — 
 
 Re enter Page, with Tyrrel. 
 Is thy name Tyrrel ? Qect. 
 
 Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub- 
 K. Rich. Art thou, indeed ? 
 ^^y>: . Prove me, my gracious lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of 
 niine ? (raies. 
 
 Tyr. Please you ; but I had rather kill two ene- 
 K. Rich. Why,' then tiiou hast it; two deep 
 enemies. 
 Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers. 
 Are they Uiat I would have thee deal upon ; 
 Tyrrel, i mean those bastards in the Tower. 
 
 Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them. 
 And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. 
 K.Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hat k, come 
 hither, Tyrrel ; 
 Go, by this token : — Rise, and lend thine ear : 
 
 (Whispers.) 
 There is no more but so : — Say, it is done. 
 And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. 
 
 Tyr. I will despatch it straight. [Exit, 
 
 Re-enter Buckingh.\m. 
 
 Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind 
 The late demand that you did sound me in. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to 
 Richmond. 
 
 Buck. I hear the news, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son: — Well, 
 look to it. [mise 
 
 Buck. iVly lord, I claim the gift, my due by pro- 
 For which your honour and your faitii is pawnVl; 
 The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables. 
 Which you have promised I shall possess. 
 
 A'. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if slie convey 
 Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. [quest? 
 
 Buck. What says your highness to my just re- 
 
 K.Rich. I do remen)ber me, — Henry the Sixtb 
 Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, 
 When llichiiiond was a little peevish boy. 
 A king ! — perhaps — 
 
 Buck. My lord, — [that time, 
 
 K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at 
 Have told me, 1 being by, that I should kill him ? 
 
 Buck:. My lord, your promise for the earldom,— 
 
 K.Rich. Richmond! — Wlien last I was at Exeter, 
 The mayor in courtesy sliew'd me the castle, 
 And cuird it — Uouge-mont: at which name, I 
 
 started ; 
 Because a bard of Ireland told me once, 
 [ should not live long after I saw Richmood* 
 
 Buck. My lord, — 
 
 K. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock ? 
 
 Buck. I am thus bold 
 
 To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock ? 
 
 Buck. Upon the stroke 
 
 Of ten. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, let it strike. 
 
480 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act TY. 
 
 Buck. Why, let it strike ? 
 
 li. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st 
 tlie stroke 
 Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. 
 I am not in the giving vein to-day. [no. 
 
 Buck. Why, then resolve me wlieV yon will, or 
 
 K. Rich. Thou troiiblest me ; lam not in the vein. 
 [Exeunt King Richard and Train. 
 
 Buck. And is it tims ? reptiys he my deep service 
 With such contempt? made I him king ibr tliis i 
 O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone 
 To Brecknock, while my I'earlul head is on. [Exit, 
 
 Scene III. — The same. 
 Enter Tyrrel. 
 Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodly act is done ; 
 The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 
 That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
 Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
 To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 
 Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 
 Melting with tenderness and mild compassion. 
 Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 
 thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes, — 
 Thu.i, tlius, quotli Forrest, girdling 07ie another 
 Within their alabaster innocent arms : 
 Their lips tvere four red roses on a stalk. 
 Which, in their summer beauty, kiss' d each other. 
 A book of prayers on their pillow lay ; [mind ; 
 Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my 
 But, 0, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ; 
 When Diijhton thus told on, — we smothered 
 The most replenished sweet work of nature, 
 That, from the prime creation, e'er sliefram'd. — 
 Hence b<ith are gone with conscience and remorse, 
 'J'hey could not speak ; and so I left them both. 
 To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 
 
 Enter King Richard. 
 
 And here he comes : — All health, my sovereign lord ! 
 
 K. Rich. Kind 'I'yrrel ! am I happy in thy news ? 
 
 Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge 
 Beget your happiness, be happy then. 
 For it is done. 
 
 K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead ? 
 
 Tyr. I did, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr, The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; 
 But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 
 
 K.Rich.Come tome, Tyrrel, soon, ataltersupper, 
 When thou shait tell the |>rocess of their death. 
 Mean time, but think how I may du thee good. 
 And be inheritor of thy desire. 
 Farewell, till then. 
 
 Tyr. 1 humbly take my leave. [Exit. 
 
 K. Rich. The son of Clarence have 1 penn'd up 
 close ; 
 His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage ; 
 The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom. 
 And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. 
 Now, ii>r I know the Bretagne Richmond aims 
 At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter. 
 And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, 
 To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. 
 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cafe. My lord, — 
 
 K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in 
 so bluntly? [mond ; 
 
 Cate. Bad news, my lord : Morton is fled to Rich- 
 And Buckingham, bacL'd with the hardy Welshmen, 
 Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 
 
 K. Rich. Ely with Riclimond troubles me more 
 near, 
 Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. 
 Come, — I have learn'd, that iearful cO'Uimenting 
 Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 
 Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary ; 
 'I'iien fiery expedition be my wing, 
 Jovfc's Mercury, and herald lor a king ! 
 
 Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield ; 
 We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. 
 
 [Exevnt 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. Before the Palace. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret. 
 Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, 
 Atid drop into the rotten mouth of death. 
 Here in these confmes slily have 1 lurk'd. 
 To watch the waning of mine enemies. 
 A dire induction am I witness to. 
 And will to France ; hoping, the consequence 
 Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. 
 Withdraw thee, v,'retched Margaret! who coin< s 
 here ? 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess o/YoR K. 
 
 Q. EUz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my tender babes.' 
 My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets I 
 If yet your gentle souls fly in the air. 
 And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, 
 Hover about me with your airy wings. 
 And hear your mother's lamentation ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Hover about her ; say, that right for right 
 Ha(h dimnv'd your infant mora to aged night. 
 
 Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice. 
 That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute, — 
 Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? 
 
 Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, 
 Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. [lambs, 
 
 Q. Elis. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such genlle 
 And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
 When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done '' 
 
 Q. Mar.When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. 
 
 Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living 
 ghost, [usnrp'd, 
 
 Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by Jiie 
 Brief abstract and record of tedious days, 
 Rest.thy unrest on England's lawful earth, 
 
 (Sitting down. J 
 Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon alV.n-d a 
 As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; [giav?^ 
 
 Then would I hide ray bones, not rest them here 1 
 Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we ? 
 
 {Sitting down by her.) 
 
 Q.Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, 
 Give mine the benefit of seniory. 
 And let my griefs (rown on the upper hand. 
 If sorrow can admit society, 
 
 [Sitting down iv'ith them ] 
 Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine : — 
 I had an Edward, till a Richard kiii'd him ; 
 I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd hiin. 
 Thou hadstan Edward, till a Richard kill'd him 
 Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.. 
 
 Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill 
 him ; 
 I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard 
 kill'd him. 
 From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
 A hellhound, that doth hunt us ail to death : 
 That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes. 
 To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood ; 
 'i'hat foul defacer of God's hanay-work; 
 That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, 
 That reigns in galled eyes of weeping soiJs, 
 Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. 
 O upright, just, and true-disposing God, 
 How do 1 tiiauk thee, that this carnal cur 
 Preys on the issue of his mother's body, 
 And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan ! 
 
 Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes ; 
 God witness v/ith me, I have wept for thine. 
 
 Q. Mar. Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge. 
 And now I cloy me with beholding it. 
 Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward 
 Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; 
 Young York he is but boot, because both they 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 481 
 
 Match not the high perfection of my loss. 
 
 Thy Clarence he is dead, that stahb'd my Edward ; 
 
 And the beholders of this tragic play. 
 
 The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaiighan, Grey, 
 
 Untimely smotherd in their dusky graves. 
 
 Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; 
 
 Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls, 
 
 And send them thither; But at hand, at hand, 
 
 Knsiies his piteous and unpitied end. 
 
 Karth gaj)es, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
 
 To have hiui suddenly convey'd from hence : — 
 
 Cancel his b(ind of lii'e. dear God, I pray. 
 
 That I may live to say. The dog is dead I [come, 
 
 Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would 
 That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
 That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad. 
 
 Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of ray 
 fortune ; 
 I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ; 
 The presentation of but what I was, 
 The flattering index of a direful pageant, 
 One heav'd a high, to be huri'd down below: 
 A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ; 
 A dream of what thou wast ; a garish ling. 
 To be the aim of every dangerous shot ; 
 A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
 A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
 Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ? 
 Where be thy two sons :* wherein dost tiiou joy ^ 
 Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the 
 
 queen ? 
 Where be tiie bending peers that flatter'd thee ? 
 Where be the thronging troops that foUow'd thee V 
 Decline all this, and see what now thou art. 
 For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
 For joyful mother, one (hat wails the name; 
 For one being sued to, one that hiuiibly sues; 
 For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care . 
 For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me ; 
 For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
 For one corainanding all, obey'd of none. 
 Thus hath the course of justice wheei'd about. 
 And left tiiee but a veiy prey to time ; 
 Having no more but thought of what thou wert. 
 To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
 'J'hou didst usurp mv place. And dost thou not 
 Usurp tlie just proiioition of my sorrow ? 
 Now thy |)roud neck bears half my barden'd yoke, 
 From which even here I slip my wearied head, 
 And leave the burden of it iiil on thee. 
 Farewell, York's wife, — and queen of sad mis- 
 chance, — 
 These English woes shall make me smile in France. 
 
 Q_. Eliz. O thou well skilld in curses, stay a while. 
 And teach me how to curse mine enemies. 
 
 Q.Mar. Forbear to sleep the uiglit, and fast the 
 
 Compare dead happiness with living woe; 
 'J'hink that thy babes were fairer than they were. 
 And he, that slew them, fouler than he is : 
 Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse ; 
 Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 
 
 Q, Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them 
 with thine I 
 
 Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and 
 pierce like mine. [Exit. 
 
 Duck, Why should calamity be full of words? 
 
 Q. Eliz. VVindy attorneys to their client woes. 
 Airy succeeders of intestate joys, 
 l*oor breathing orators of miseries I 
 Let them have scope ; though what they do impart 
 flel|) untiling else, yet do they ease the heart. 
 
 Duck. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd : go with me, 
 And in tiie breath of bitter words let's smother 
 My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. 
 
 {Drum tvitltin.) 
 
 hear his drum, — be copious in exclaims. 
 
 Enter King Richard, mul his Train, 7narc/iintj. 
 K. liich. Who intercepts me in my expedition''' 
 
 Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted t e 
 By strangling thee in her accursed womb, ' 
 
 From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden 
 crown, 
 \yhere should be branded, if that right were right. 
 The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown, 
 And the dire death of my poor sons and brotliers? 
 Tell me, tliou villain slave, where are my children ? 
 
 Duch. Tho-u toad, thou toad, where is thy brother 
 Clarence ? 
 And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ? (Grey 
 
 Q.Eliz. Where is the gentle River.s, Vaughan, 
 
 JJuch. Where is kind Hastings? [drums! 
 
 K, Rich. A flourish, trumpets 1 — strike alarun)s, 
 Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
 Rail on the lord's anointed : Strike, I say. — 
 
 {Flourish. Alarums.) 
 Either be patient, and entreat me fair. 
 Or with the clamorous report ol' war 
 Thus will I drown your exclamations. 
 
 Duck. Art thou my son ? [self 
 
 K. Rich. Ay; I tl)ank God, my father, and your- 
 
 Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. 
 
 K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition, 
 That cannot brook the accent of reproof 
 
 Duch. O, let me speak. 
 
 K. Rich. Do, then ; but I'll not hear 
 
 Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 
 
 K. Rich. And brief", good mother; lor I am in 
 haste. 
 
 Duch. Art thou so hasty ? I have staid for thee,. 
 God knows, in torment and in agony. 
 
 K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? 
 
 Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou knovv'st it well. 
 Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. 
 -A grievous burden was thy birth to me ; 
 Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ; [rioiis 
 
 Thy schooldays, frightful, desperate, wild, and fu- 
 Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and \ enturous ; 
 Tliy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 
 More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred-: 
 What comfortable hour can'st thou name, 
 That e\er grac'd me in thy company. 
 
 K. Rick. 'Faith, none, but Hinnpiu-ey Hour, that 
 call'd your grace 
 To breakfast once, forth of my company. 
 If I be so disgracious in yom- sight. 
 Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. — 
 Strike n\) the drum. 
 
 Duch. I pr'yfhee, hear me speak 
 
 K, Rich. You speak too bitterly. 
 
 Duch. Hear me a word ; 
 
 For I shall never speak to thee again. 
 
 K. Rich. So. [dinauce 
 
 Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just or 
 Ere from this war tliou turn a conqueror; 
 Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, 
 And never look upon thy face again. 
 'J'herefore, take with thee my most heavy curse ; 
 Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more. 
 Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st ! 
 My prayers on the adverse party fight; 
 And there the little souls of Edward's children 
 W^hisper the spirits of thine enemies. 
 And promise them success and victory. 
 Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ; 
 Shame serves tliy life, and doth thy death attend. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet nuich less 
 sphit to curse 
 Abides in nie ; I say amen to her. {Going,) 
 
 K. Rick. Stay, madam, I must speak a word m ith 
 you. 
 
 Q. Eliz. \ have no more sons of the royal blood. 
 For thee to murder : for my daughters, Bichard,— 
 They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; 
 And theretbre level not to hit tiieir lives. 
 
 A'. Rich. You ha\e a dau^liter call'd — Elizabeth, 
 Virtuous and faii', royal ai.d gracious. 
 
 31 
 
482 
 
 KING PJCIIARD III. 
 
 Act \V. 
 
 Q. Eliz. And must she die for this ? O, let lier live. 
 And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty ; 
 SiHiiilei nijseii", as false to Edward's bed ; 
 T 1 row over hei the veil of infamy : 
 So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, 
 I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. 
 
 K.Rich. Wrong not her biith, she is of royal 
 bliiod. 
 
 Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say — she is not so. 
 
 K. Ric/i. Her life is safest only in her birth. 
 
 Q. E/iz. And only in that safety died her brothers. 
 
 K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were 
 opposite. [trary. 
 
 Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were con- 
 
 K. Rich. All nnavoided is the doom of destiny. 
 
 Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny. 
 My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, 
 If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. 
 
 K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my 
 cousins. [cozen'd 
 
 O. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle 
 Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
 Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts, 
 Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction : 
 No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, 
 Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart. 
 To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
 But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame. 
 My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys, 
 Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; 
 And I, in such a desperate bay of death, 
 Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft. 
 Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 
 
 K. Rick. Madam, so thrive I in ray enterprise. 
 And dangerous success of bloody wars, 
 As I intend more good to you and yours, 
 Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of 
 heaven. 
 To be discover'd that can do me good ? 
 
 K. Rich. The advancement of your children, 
 gentle lady. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Up to some scatfold, there to lose their 
 heads ? 
 
 K. Rich. No, to (he dignity and lieight of fortune. 
 The hi^h imperial type of this earth's glory. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with reijort of it ; 
 Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour. 
 Canst tliou demise to any child of mine ? 
 
 K. Rich. Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all, 
 Will I withal endow a child of thine ; 
 So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 
 Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs. 
 Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy 
 kindness 
 Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. 
 
 K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul, I love 
 thy daughter. [soul. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it vvith her 
 
 K. Rich. What do you think'? 
 
 Q. Elis. Tiiat thou dost love my daughtei from 
 thy soul : 
 So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers ; 
 And, from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. 
 
 K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confoiiiid my meaning: 
 '>\ mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, 
 And do intend to make her queen of England. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be 
 her king ? 
 
 ■ K. RicL Even he, that makes her queen ; Who 
 else should be '? 
 
 Q. Eliz. What, thou ? 
 
 K. Rich. Even so : What think you 
 
 of it, madam? 
 
 Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? 
 
 K. Rich. That would I learn of you, 
 
 As one being best acquainted with her humour. 
 
 Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me ? 
 
 i^- Rich. Madam, with all my heart 
 
 Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her 
 brothers, 
 A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave, 
 Edward, and York; then, haply, will she weep: 
 'J'herefore present to her, — as sometime Margaret 
 Did to thy lather, steep'd in Rutland's blood, — 
 A handkerchief; whicii, say to her, did drain 
 The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, 
 And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 
 If this inducement move her not to love, 
 Send her a letter of thy noble deeds; 
 'JVII her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, 
 Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and, tor her sake, 
 Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. 
 
 K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is not the 
 way 
 To win your daughter. 
 
 K Eliz. There is no other way. 
 
 Unless thou could'st i)nt on some other shape, 
 And not be Richard that hath done all this. 
 
 K. Rich. Say, that 1 did all this for love of her? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose but 
 have thee, 
 Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 
 
 K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now 
 amended : 
 Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes 
 Which after-hours give leisure to repent. 
 If I did take the kingdom iiom your sons, 
 'I'o make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. 
 If I have kill'd the issue of your womb. 
 To quicken your increase, I will beget 
 Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
 A grandam's name is little less in love. 
 Than is the doting title of a mother; 
 They are as children, but one step below, 
 Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
 Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans 
 Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. 
 Your children were vexation to your youth, 
 But mine shall be a comlbrt to your age. 
 1'he loss, you have, is but — a sun being king. 
 And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen. 
 I cannot make you what amends I would. 
 Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
 Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soid. 
 Leads discontented steps in fireign soil, 
 This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
 To high promotions and great dignity : 
 The king, that calls your beauteous daughter, — wife, 
 Familiarly shall call thy Dorset — brother; 
 Again shall you be mother to a king, 
 And all the ruins of distressful times ^ 
 
 Repair'd with double riches of content. 
 What I we have many goodly days to see : 
 The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, 
 Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl ; 
 Advantaging their loan, with interest 
 Oi ten-tiraes-double gain of happiness. 
 Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go ; 
 Make bold her bashful years with your experience; 
 Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale j 
 Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
 Of golden sov'reignty ; acquaint the princess 
 With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys: 
 And when this arm of mine hath chastised 
 The petty rebel, duU-brain'd Buckingham, 
 Bound vvith triumphant garlands will I come, 
 And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ; 
 To whom 1 will retail my conquest won. 
 And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. 
 
 Q. Eliz. What were I best to say '? her father's 
 brother 
 Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle? 
 Or, he that slew her brothers, and her uncles ? 
 Under what title shall I woo for thee, 
 That God, the law, my honour, and her love, 
 Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ? 
 
 K. Rich. Inter fair England's peace by this 
 alliance. 
 
Scene 4, 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 4b3 
 
 Q. Eliz. Wliich she shall purchase with still last- 
 ing- war. 
 
 K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, 
 entreats. [K-inu; forbids. 
 
 Q. Eliz. That at her hands, whicli the king's 
 
 A'. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty 
 queen. 
 
 Q. KHz. To wail (he title, as her mother doth. 
 
 K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly. 
 
 Q. Eliz. iJiit how long shall that title, e\er, last? 
 
 ii.. Ricfu Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Jiut how long fairly shall lier sweet life 
 last? [ens it. 
 
 A. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, length- 
 
 Q. Eliz. And long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. 
 
 K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject 
 low. [sov'reignty. 
 
 Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such 
 
 K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. 
 
 Q. Eliz, An honest tale speeds best, being plainly 
 told. _ ' [tale. 
 
 K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving 
 
 Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsii a style. 
 
 K Rich. Your reasons are too shallow, and too 
 quick. 
 
 Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and 
 dead ; — 
 Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. 
 
 K.Rich. Harp not on that string, niadHui ; that 
 is past. [break. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings 
 
 K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and 
 my crown, — [usurp'd. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third 
 
 K. Rich. I swear. 
 
 Q. Eliz. By nothing ; for this is no oath. 
 
 Thy George, profan'd, hath lost h's holy honour; 
 Ti>y garter, bleinish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue ; 
 Thy crown, usurp '.I, disgrac'd his kingly glory: 
 If something thou would'st swear to be believ'd. 
 Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. 
 
 K. Rich. Now by the world, — 
 
 Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. 
 
 li. Rich. My father's death,— 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd. 
 
 K. Rich. Then, by myself^ — 
 
 Q Eliz. Thyself is self-misus'd. 
 
 K. Rich. Why then, by God,— 
 
 Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. 
 If tliuu liid'st fear'd to break an oath by him. 
 The unity, the king thy brother made. 
 Had not been broken, uor my brother slain. 
 If thou had'st fear'd to break an oath by him. 
 The imperial metal, circling now thy head, 
 Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ; 
 And b.ith the princes had been breathing here. 
 Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust. 
 Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. 
 What canst thou swear by now? 
 
 K. Rich. By the time to corae. 
 
 Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'er- 
 For I myself have many .tears to wash [past; 
 
 Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. 
 The children live, whose parents thou hast slaugh- 
 
 ter'd, 
 Ungovern'd youtli.to wail it in their age ! 
 'I'lie parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, 
 Old barren plints, to wail it with their age. 
 Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast 
 Misus'd t-re used, by times ill us'd o'er past. 
 
 K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent! 
 So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
 Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound ! 
 Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours ! 
 Day, yield me not thy light; nor, niglit thy rest! 
 Be opposite all planets of good hick 
 'I'll my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love, 
 Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 
 I tende.' not thy beauteous princely daughter I 
 In her consists my happiness, and thine ; 
 
 Without Iier, follows to myself, and lliee, 
 Herself, the land, and many a christian soui. 
 Death, desolation, ruin, and decay: 
 It cannot be a\oi(l( d, hut by tliis ; 
 It will not be avoided, but by this. 
 Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so,) 
 Be the attorney of my love to her. 
 Plead what I will be, not what I have been; 
 Not my deserts, but what I will deserve : 
 Urge tlie necessity and state of times. 
 And be not peevish found in great designs. 
 
 Q.EIiz. Shall I be temi-ted by the deul thus? 
 
 K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt tliee to do good. 
 
 (>. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself? 
 
 K. Rich. A}', if your self s remembrance wrong 
 yourself. 
 
 Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. 
 
 K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury 
 them: 
 Where, in that nest of spicery, tliey shall breed 
 Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. 
 
 p. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? 
 
 K. Rich. And be a hapi)y mother by the deed 
 
 Q. Eliz. I go. — Write to me very shortly, 
 And yon shall understand from me her mind. 
 
 K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so 
 farewell. 
 
 {Kissing her.) [Exit Queen Elizabeth. 
 Relenting fool, and shallow, changing — woman I 
 How now? what news? 
 
 Enter Ratclifp; Catesby followinr/. 
 Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast 
 Rideth a jjiMssant navy ; to the shore 
 Throng many doubtful hollow-heaited friends, 
 Unarni'd. and unresoiv'd to beat them back : 
 Tis thought, that Richmond is their aduiirai ; 
 And there they hull, expecting but the aid 
 Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. 
 K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke 
 of Norfolk : — 
 RatcIilF, thyself, — or Catesby; where is he ? 
 Cnte. Here, my good lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke. 
 
 C'ate. I will, my lord, with all convenient hasle. 
 
 K. Rich. Ratclitf, come hither : Post to Salisbury; 
 
 Wlien thou coin'st thither, — Dull unmindfiil \illain, 
 
 {To Cate.'iby.) 
 Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ? 
 Gate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' 
 pleasure. 
 What from your grace I shall deliver to hi:n. 
 
 K.Rich. O, true, good Catesby; — Bid him levy 
 straight 
 The greatest strength and power he can make. 
 And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. 
 
 Cate. I go. [Exit. 
 
 Rat. What, may it place you, shall I do at Sa- 
 lisbury ? 
 K. Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, be» 
 
 fore I go ? 
 Rat, Your highness told me, I should post before 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 K. Rich. My mind is chang'd. — Stanley, wha 
 
 news with you ? 
 Sta7i. None good, n»y liege, to please you with 
 the hearing: 
 Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. 
 
 K.Rich. Heyday, a riddle ! neither good nor bad! 
 What need st thou run so many miles about, 
 When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? 
 Once more, what news ? 
 
 Stan. Richmond is on the seas. 
 
 K. Rich, l^lrere let him sink, and be the seas ou. 
 him ! 
 White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there ? 
 Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but bygaeas. 
 K. Rich. Well, as you guess' 
 Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset. Buckingham, and 
 Morton, 
 
48-i 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 He i,.,ikcs for En^UiDfl. here to cLiiin t!ie rrov/n. 
 K. Rich. Is (lie i-uair eiiii)ty V is the s'.void iiii- 
 
 .SWMV'd ' 
 
 Is (lie U!n;f dead? tlie einpii'e iinpossess'd ? 
 Wiiiit lieir ol' Vi)rk is there idiie, but we ? 
 Ami ulio is I3iif;liuii!'s kinp, but Rreat York's heir? 
 'i'heii, tell iiie, wiiiit iiiitkes lie upon the seas ? 
 
 Stan. I'liless lor that, my liege, I cannot guess. 
 
 K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, 
 Vou cannot guess wherefore the Welshman conies, 
 'i'hou wilt re\olt, and lly to him, I fear. 
 
 Stan. No, mighty liege, therefore mistrust nie 
 not. [back ? 
 
 K. Rich. Where is thy povverthen, to beat him 
 Where be thy tenants, and thy followers? 
 Are they not now upon the western shore, 
 •Safe-conducting the rebels from their siiips? 
 
 Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the 
 north. [the north, 
 
 K. Rich. Cold friends to me : What do they in 
 When tliey should serve their sovereign in the west? 
 
 Stan. They iiave not been commanded, mighty 
 king: _ 
 Pleaseth yoin- majesty to give me leave, 
 I'll muster up my t'riends; and meet your grace. 
 Where, and wliat time, your majesty shall please. 
 
 A. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join 
 'A'ith llichmond : 
 I will not trust you, sir. 
 
 Stan. Most mighty sovereign, 
 
 Vo.i h:i\e iio(-ause to hold my friendship doubtful ; 
 I never was, tiur never will be false. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, 
 leavi' behind 
 Vour son, George Stanley ; look your heart be firm, 
 Oi else liis head's assurance is but frail. 
 
 Stan. So deal witii him, as I prove trne to you. 
 
 [Exit Stanley. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, 
 As I by friends am well ad\ertised. 
 Sir E(K\ard Couitney, and the haughty prelate. 
 Bishop of Exeter, his elder biother. 
 With many more confederates, are in arms. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guiidfords are 
 
 in arms ; 
 Anil every hour more competitors 
 Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. 
 
 . Enter another Messenger. 
 
 3 Mess My lord, the army of great Bucking- 
 
 ham — 
 
 K.Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but song-s of 
 death? [He strikes him.) 
 
 'I'here, take thou fliat, till thou brin:;' better news. 
 
 IJ Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty, 
 Is, — that, by sudden Hoods and tall of waters, 
 B:i<kiiigham s army is dispers'd and scatter'd; 
 And he himself vvander'd away alone, 
 No man knows whither. 
 
 K. Rich. 0, 1 cry yon mercy: 
 
 Tliere is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. 
 Hath any well-advised Iriend proclaim'd 
 llewaid to him that brings the traitor in? [liege. 
 
 3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 4 Mess. Sir 'I'homas Lovel, and lord marquis 
 
 Dorset, 
 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms, 
 But this good comfort bring I to your highness,— 
 The Britaj;ne na\y is dispers'd oy tempest: 
 Ricliiiiond, in Doisetsliire, sent out a boat 
 Unto the shore, to ask llmse on the banks, 
 li j.hey Were his assistant-:, yea, or no; 
 SVhoans«er'd iiini, ii,, v ( aine from Buckingham 
 Upon his party : In- ^l, listing them. 
 
 Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. 
 K. Rich. .March on, march on, since we are up ia 
 arms ; 
 If not to fight with foreign enemies. 
 Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. 
 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cate. My liege, tlie duke of Buckingham is taken, 
 That is the best ne\is; That the earl of Richmond 
 Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, 
 Is colder neus, but yet they must be told. 
 
 K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury; while we 
 reason here, 
 A royal battle might be won and lost : — 
 Some one take order, Buckingham be brought 
 To Salisbury ; — the rest march on wilh nie. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — A Room in Lord Stanley's House. 
 Enter St.\nley and Sir Chkistopher Urswick. 
 
 Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from 
 me : — 
 That, in the sty of this most bloody boar. 
 My son George Stanley is fiankd up in hold; 
 It' I revolt, off goes young George's head ; 
 The fear of that withholds my present aid. 
 But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? 
 
 Chris. .At Pembroke, or at Ha'rfbrd-west, in 
 Wales. 
 
 Stan. W'hat men of name resort to him ? 
 
 Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned saldler; 
 Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley; 
 Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt, 
 And Rice ap Thomas, W'lh a valiant crew ; 
 And many other of great fame and woith: 
 And towards London do they bend their course. 
 If by the way they be not fought withal. 
 
 Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me 
 to him ; 
 Tell Iiim, the fjiieen hath heartily consented 
 He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
 These letters will resolve him of my mind. 
 Farewell. ifiives papers to Sir Christopher.) 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACTV. 
 
 Scene I. — Salisbury. An open Place. 
 
 Enter the Sheriff, and Guard, tvith BucKiNCtLiM,- 
 led to execution. 
 
 Buck. Will not king Richard let me speak with 
 
 him? 
 Sher. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient. 
 Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children. Rivers, 
 
 *-''*'y' 
 Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
 
 Vaiighan, and all that have miscarried 
 
 By underhand corrupted fbiil injustice ; 
 
 If that your moody discontented souls 
 
 Do through tlie clouds behold this present hour. 
 
 Even for revenge iriock my destruction! — 
 
 This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? 
 
 Slier. It is, my lord. [doomsday. 
 
 Buck. Why, then All-Sonl's day is my body's 
 This is f 'le day, which, in king Edward's time, 
 I wish'd might fall cm me. when 1 was found 
 False to his children, or his wile's allies : 
 This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall 
 By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ; 
 This, this, All-Souls' day to my fearful soul, 
 Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs. 
 That high All-seer which I dallied with. 
 Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head,. 
 And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest 
 Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
 To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms : 
 Thjis Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, — 
 When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart tvith 
 
 sorrow, 
 Remember Margaret ivas a prophetess. — 
 Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ; 
 
3CENB 3. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 485 
 
 Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of] 
 blame. [Exeunt Buckingham, §fc. i 
 
 Scene II. — Plnin near Tamworth. ■ 
 
 Enter, with drum and colours. Richmond, Ox- ; 
 
 FORD, Sir Jajirs Blunt, Sir Wxutek Herbert, ! 
 
 and others, with Forces marchimj. ■ j 
 
 liichin. Fellows in arms, and my most loving 
 friends, 
 Hruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, 
 Tims far into tlie bowels of tije land 
 Haxe we niarch"d on without impediment; 
 Anfl here receive we from our father Stanley 
 Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
 Tlie wretched, bloody, and usurping boar. 
 That spoifd your summer fields, and fnntful vines, 
 Swills your wat-m blood like wash, and makes his 
 
 trough 
 In your emboweil'd bosoms, this foul swine 
 Lies now even in the centre of this isle. 
 Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn : 
 From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march. 
 In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, 
 To reap the harvest of perpetual peace 
 By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 
 
 Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand 
 To finht against that bloody homicide. [swords, 
 
 Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us. 
 
 Blunt. He hath no frietids, but who are friends 
 for fear ; 
 Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. 
 
 Richnt. .4.11 for our vantage. Then, in God's 
 name, march : 
 True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
 K.inijs it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IIL — Bosworth Field. 
 
 Enter King RiCHARD, and Forces; the Duke of 
 Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, and others. 
 
 K. Rich. Here pitch o i teals, exen here in Bos- 
 worth field. — 
 Mv lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ? 
 
 Sifr. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. 
 
 A. /?(cA. My lord of Norfolk,— 
 
 N^or. Here, most gracious liege. 
 
 . 1{. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knacks ; Ha ! 
 must we not"? 
 
 A'or We must both give and take, my loving lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Up with my tent : Here will I lie to- 
 night; 
 
 {Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent.) 
 rjnt where, to-morrow? — Well, all's one for that. — 
 Will) hath descried the number of the traitors ? 
 
 Nor. .Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles thataccount: 
 IJrsiiles, the king's name is a tower of strength, 
 W hich they upon the adverse faction want. 
 Up with the tent. — Come, noble gentlemen, 
 Let us survey the vantage of the ground ; — 
 Call fur some merv of .sound direction : — 
 Jjet's want no discipline, make no delay; 
 For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter, ojt ihe other side of the field, RictlMOND, 
 Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and other 
 Lords. Some of the Soldiers pilch Richmond's 
 tent. 
 
 Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
 An<l, hy the bright track of his fiery car. 
 Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. — 
 Sir William Bramlon, you shall bear my standard. — 
 Give me some ink and paper in my tent ; — 
 III draw tlie form and model of our battle. 
 Limit each leader to his several chnrge, 
 And part in just proportion our small power. 
 My lord of Oxford, — you, sir William lirandon, — 
 And you, .sir Walter Herbeit, stay with lue : 
 The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment;- • 
 Good captain Blunt, bear mv good night to him. 
 
 And by the second hour in the morning 
 Desire the earl to see me in my tent; — 
 Vet one thing more, good captain, do for me; 
 Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you knovv? 
 
 Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much. 
 (VVhich, well I am assur'd, 1 have not do:ie,) 
 His regiment lies hall a ende at least 
 South Irom the mighty power of the king. 
 
 Richtn. If without perd it be possible, ihim, 
 
 Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak witn 
 \nd give him froui lue this most needful not.^. 
 
 Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it; 
 And so, God give .you quiet rest to-night ! 
 
 Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come 
 gentlemen, 
 Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ; 
 In to my tent, the air is raw and cold. 
 
 [They withdraw into the tent. 
 
 Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, 
 R.\TCLiFF, and Catesby. 
 
 K.Rich. What ist o'clock? 
 
 Cate. It's supper time, my lord ; 
 
 It's nine o'clock. 
 
 K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. — 
 
 Give me son>e ink and paper. — 
 What, is my beaver easier tiian it was ? — 
 And all my armour laid into my tent ? [diness. 
 
 Cate. It is, niy liege; and all things are in rea- 
 
 K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; 
 Use careful watch, ciioose trustv sentinels. 
 
 Nor. I go, my lord. [Norfolk 
 
 K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle 
 
 Nor. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit 
 
 K. Rich. Ratchft',— 
 
 Rat. My lord ? 
 
 K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 
 
 To Stanley's regiment; hid him bring his power 
 Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall 
 Into the blind cave of eternal night. — 
 Fdl me a bow 1 of wine. — Give me a watch : — 
 
 [To Catesby.) 
 Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. — 
 Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. 
 Ratclif}',— 
 
 Rat. My lord? [thumberlaud ? 
 
 K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Nor- 
 
 Rat. Thomas, the earl of Surrey, and himseli. 
 Much about cock-shut time, Irom troop to troop. 
 Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. 
 
 K.Rich. I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine. 
 I haie not that alacrity of spirit. 
 Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. — 
 So, set it down. — Is ink and jiaper ready ? 
 
 Rat. It is, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Bid my guard watch ; leave me. 
 
 About the mid of night, come to my tent 
 And help to arm me. — Leave me. I say. 
 
 [King Richard retires into his tent. Exeunt 
 Ralcliff and Catesby. 
 
 Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him and 
 his Ojficers, Q'c. ■ 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Stan. Fortunes and victory sit on thy helm ! 
 
 Richm. All comfort that the dark night can alford, 
 Be to thy person, noble fainer-in-iaw ; 
 Tell me, how fares our loving mother? 
 
 Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother. 
 Who prays continually for Richuiond'.s good : 
 So much for that. — The silent hours steal ou, 
 .4nd fiaky darkness breaks within the east. 
 In brief, for so the season bid us be. 
 Prepare thy battle early in the morning ; 
 And put tliy fjriune to the arbitremeut 
 Of bloody stroke's, and mortal .staring war, 
 I, as I may, (tiiat which I would, I cannot,) 
 Witli best advantage will deceive the time. 
 And aid thee ia tins doubtful sliotk of ariuj. 
 I But oil tliy side I may not be too fcuwarti. 
 
486 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 x\.CT V. 
 
 Lnst, he'ing seen7thy brotJier. tender George, 
 Be executed in his lather's sight. 
 Farewell : The leisure and the fearful tim • 
 Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love, 
 And ample interchange of sweet discourse, 
 Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon : 
 God give us leisure for these rites of love ! 
 Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed well ! 
 
 Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment : 
 I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap ; 
 Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, 
 When I should mount with wings of victory : 
 Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. 
 
 [Exeunt Lo7idon, ^c. with Stanley. 
 O Thou ! whose captain I accoiiot myself, 
 Look on my forces with ^ gracious eye ; 
 Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
 'I'iiat they may crush down with a heavy fall 
 'J'he usurping helmets of oiir adversaries ! 
 Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
 That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
 To tjiee I do commend my watchiul soul. 
 Ere I let fill the windows of mine eyes : 
 Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still I [Sleeps.) 
 
 The Ghost of Prince Edward, son to Henry the 
 Sixth, rises between the two tents. 
 
 Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy sonl to-morrow ! 
 
 ( To King Richard.) 
 Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of 
 
 youth 
 At Tewksbury ; Despair therefore, and die : — 
 Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls 
 Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: 
 King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 
 
 The Ghost of Ki?ir/ Henry the Sixth 7-ises. 
 
 Ghost. When I was mortal, my auointi d body 
 
 [To King Richard.) 
 By thee was punched full of deadly holes : 
 Think on the Tower and me ; Despair, and die ; 
 Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. — 
 Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! 
 
 {To Richmond.) 
 Harry, that prophesy'd thou should'st be king. 
 Doth comfort thee in thy sleep ; Li\ e, and Hourish I 
 
 The Ghost 0/ Clarence rises. 
 Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! 
 
 (To King Richard.) 
 I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, 
 Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! 
 To-morrow in the battle think on me. 
 And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die ! — 
 Thou offspring of the house of Lancasfpr, 
 
 (To Richmond.) 
 The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ; 
 Good angels guard thy battle ! Live, and flourish ! 
 
 The Ghosts ©/"RiVEUS, Grey, and Vaughan, rise. 
 Riv. Let me sit heavy on thv soul to-morrow, 
 
 [To King Richard.) 
 Rivers, that died at Ponifret! Despair, and die ! 
 Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul des- 
 pair! [To King Richard.) 
 Vaug/u 'J'hink upon Vaughan ; and. uith guilty 
 Let lall thy lance'. Despair, and die! — [fear, 
 
 [To King Richard.) 
 All. Awake! and think, our wrouiis in Kichanl's 
 bosom_ [To Richmond.) 
 
 Will conquer him; — awake, and win the day ! 
 
 The Ghost of Hastings rises. 
 Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awnke ; 
 
 [To King Richard.) 
 And m a bloody battle end thy days ! 
 Think on lord Hastings; and despair, nnd die ! — 
 Quiet imtroubled .soul, awake, avvnke ! 
 
 [To Richmond.) 
 A.rm, fight, and crc^ucr, for fair England's sake ! 
 
 The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. 
 
 Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smotiier'd in the 
 Tower; 
 Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, 
 And weigh thee down to ruin, slianie, and deat'i ! 
 Tby nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die. — 
 
 Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in 
 
 joy ; 
 
 Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
 Live, and beget a happy race of kings I 
 Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. 
 
 The Ghost of Queen Anne rises. 
 
 Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne 
 thy wife. 
 That never slejit a quiet hour with thee, 
 Now fills thy sleep witii perturbations: 
 To-morrow in the battle think on me. 
 And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die ! — 
 
 Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; 
 
 [To Richmond. _ 
 Dream of success and ha[)py victory; 
 Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 
 
 The Ghost o/Buckingh.\m rises. 
 
 Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the 
 crown: [To King Richard.) 
 
 The last was I that felt thy tyranny : 
 O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
 And die in terror of thy guiltiness! 
 Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death ; 
 Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath ! — 
 I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid : 
 
 [To Richmond., 
 But cheer thy heart, and be then not dismay'd : 
 God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side; 
 And Richard falls in height of all his pride. 
 
 [The Ghosts vanish. King Ricliard starts 
 021 1 of his dream.) 
 K.Rich. Give me another horse^ — bind up my 
 wounds, — 
 Have mercy, Jesii ! — Soft; — I did but dream. — 
 
 coward conscience, how dost thou afilict me ! — 
 The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
 Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 What do I fear? myself? there's none else by : 
 Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I. 
 
 Is there a murderer here ? No; — Ves ; I am : 
 Then fly, — What, from myself? Great reasoo: 
 
 Why? 
 Lest I revenge. What ? Myself on myself? 
 
 1 love myself. Wherefore ? for any good. 
 That I myself have done unto myself? 
 
 O, no" alas. 1 rather hate myself. 
 
 For hateful deeds committed by myself. 
 
 I am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. 
 
 Fool, of thyself speak well : — Fool, do not flatter. 
 
 My conscience hath a thousand .several tongues. 
 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale. 
 
 And every tale condemns me for a \ illain. 
 
 Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree. 
 
 Murder, stern murder, in the dir'.st degree: 
 
 All several sins, all us'd in each dei;ree. 
 
 Throng to the bar, crying all,— Guilty ! guilty ! 
 
 I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; 
 
 And, if 1 die, no .soul will pity me : 
 
 Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself 
 
 Find in myself no pity to myself. 
 
 Methonght, the souls of all 'that I had murder'd 
 
 Came to my tent: and every one did threat 
 
 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. 
 
 Enter Ratcliff. 
 
 Rat. My lord,- 
 
 K.Rich. Who's there? 
 
 Rat. Ratclili; my lord ; 'tis I. The eaily village 
 cock 
 Hath twice done salutation to the morn ; 
 Ydiii if i( mis are dj) and buckle on their armour 
 
SCEXE 3. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 487 
 
 K. Rich. 0, Ratcliff, 1 have drt'i\in"d a fearful 
 dream !- — 
 Wiiat tliiiikest thou? will our friends prove all true ? 
 
 Rat. No doubt, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear, — 
 
 Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not alraid of sha- 
 dows. 
 
 K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night 
 Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, 
 'I'lian can tiie substance often thousand soldiers, 
 .4rmed in proof, and led by shallow Riehnioud. 
 It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
 Under our tents I II play the eavesdro))|jer. 
 To hear, if any mean to shrink from me. 
 
 [Exeunt kiny Richard and Rate! iff. 
 
 Richmond wakes. Enter Oxford and others. 
 
 Lords. Good morrow, Richmond. 
 
 Rich. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentle- 
 men, 
 That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. 
 
 Lords. How have yon slept, my lord ? 
 
 Rich. 'I'he sweetest sleep, and fairest boding 
 dreams, 
 That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, 
 Have I since j'oiir departure had, my lords. 
 Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard 
 
 murder'd, 
 Carae to my tent, and cried — On! victory! 
 I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
 In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
 How lar into the morning is it, lords i 
 
 Lords. Uiion the stroke of four. 
 
 Rich. Why, then 'tis time to a*;m, \and give 
 direction. — [He advances to the Troops.) 
 More than I have said, loving countrymen, , 
 
 The leisure and enforcement of the time 
 Forbids to dwell on : Yet reineniber^kis', — 
 God, and our good cause, fight npon oui» side : 
 TUti prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls. 
 Like hiuh-rear'd bulwarks, stand before Our faces ; 
 Richard eicept, those, whom we tight against, 
 Had rather have us win, than him they follow. 
 For what is he they follow? truly, gentlenieu, 
 A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ; 
 One rais'd in blood, ond one in blood establish'd; 
 One that made means to come by what he hath, 
 And slaughter'd those that were the means to help 
 
 him ; 
 A base foul stone, made precious by the foil 
 Of England's chair, where he is falsely set 
 One tliat hath ever been God's enemy : 
 Then, if you fight against God's enemy, 
 God will, injustice, ward yon as his soldiers; 
 If yon do sweat to put a tyrant down, 
 You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; 
 If you do fight against your country's foes. 
 Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; 
 If you do figlit in siifegnard of your wives. 
 Your wives shall vvelcome home the conquerors ; 
 If you do {\ee your children from the sword. 
 Your children's children quit it in your age. 
 Then, in the name of God, and all these rights, 
 Advance your standards, draw your willing swords : 
 For me, tlie ransom of my bold attempt 
 Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face ; 
 But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
 The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
 Sourid, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully; 
 God, and Saint George.' Richmond, and victory ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Attendants, 
 and Forces. 
 
 K. Rich. Wh,.t said Northumberland, as touch- 
 ing Richmond ? 
 
 Rat. Tnat he wis never trained up in arms. 
 
 K. Rich. He said the truth : And what said Surrey 
 then? 
 
 by th 
 
 Rat. He sniil'd and said, the better fornurpnrpose. 
 K. Rich. He was i' the right; and si>, indeed, ;t i 
 
 m II 1 ■ [Clock strikes.) 
 
 Tell the clock there. — Give me a calendar. — 
 Who saw the sun to-day ? 
 
 Rat. Not I, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. T'hen he disdains to shine ; for 
 book, 
 
 He should have brav'd the east an hour ago: 
 A black day will it be to somebody. — 
 Ratcliff,— 
 
 Rat. IVIy lord ? 
 
 K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day ; 
 
 The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. 
 I would, these dewy tears were from the ground. 
 Not shine to-day ! Why, what is that to me. 
 More than to Richmond 1 for the selfsame heaven 
 That frowns on me, looks sadly upon hira. 
 
 Nor. 
 
 Enter Norfolk. 
 arm, my lord ; the foe 
 
 .\rm, arm, my lord ; the foe vaunts in the 
 .fifld.^ [horse;— 
 
 K. Rich. Come, bustle, bustle ; — Caparison ray 
 Call UD lord Stanley, bid hira bring his power: — 
 I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, 
 And (bus my battle shall be ordered. 
 My forewarci shall be drawn out all in length. 
 Consisting equally of horse and foot; 
 Our archers shall be placed in the midst: 
 John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey, 
 Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. 
 They thus directed, we ourself will follow 
 In the main battle; whose puissance on either side 
 Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. 
 This, and Saint George to boot !— What think'st 
 thou, Norfolk? 
 Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign. — 
 This found I on my tent this morning. 
 
 [Giving a scroll.) 
 K. Rich. [Reads.) Jocky of Norfolk, be not too 
 . bold, ' ' 
 
 For Dickon thy master is bourjht and sold. 
 A thing devised by the enemy. — 
 Go, gentlemen, every man unto his chfjrge : 
 Lei not our babbling dreams affright our souls ; 
 Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
 Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe ; 
 Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our la^\. 
 March, on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell ; 
 If not to heaven, then hand in hancf to hell. — 
 What shall I say more than I have infer'd ? 
 Remember whom you are to cope withal; — 
 A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-avvays, 
 A scum of Rretagnes, and base lackey peasants, 
 Whom their o'er-cloy'd country vomits forth 
 To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction. 
 You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ; 
 You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, 
 They would restrain the one, distain the other. 
 And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow, 
 Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost? 
 A milk-sop, one that never in his life 
 Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ? 
 Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
 Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, 
 These famish'd beggars, weary of tiieir lives; 
 Who, but for dreaming on this fond ex|jloit, 
 For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd them- 
 selves ; 
 If we be conqiier'd, let men conquer us. 
 And not these bastard Bretagnes? whom our fathera 
 Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd. 
 And, on lecord, left them the heirs of shame. 
 Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? 
 Ravish our daughters? — Hark, I hoar their drum. 
 
 [Drum afar off.] 
 Figiit, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen 1 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head I 
 Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; 
 Anuv/i- (he welkin wi Ji yaui b:cker. stave* i 
 
i88 
 
 KING EICHARD III. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 What says lord Stanley? will he bring his power? 
 
 Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come. 
 
 K. Rich. OH" instantly with hw son George's head. 
 
 Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh; 
 After the battle let George Stanley die. 
 
 K. Rick. A thousand hearts are great withio my 
 bosom : 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! 
 Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— Another Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarutn: Excnrsions. Enter Norfolk, and 
 Forces ; to him Catesby. 
 
 Cate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue ! 
 The king enacts more wonders than a man, 
 Daring an opposite to every danger; 
 His iiorse is slain, and all on foot he fights. 
 Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death: 
 Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! 
 
 Alarum. Enter King Richard. 
 K. Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a 
 
 horse ! 
 Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse. 
 K. Rich. Slave, 1 have set my life upon a cast. 
 And I will stand the hazard of the die : 
 I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; 
 Five have I slain to-day, instead of him : — 
 A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Enter King Richard and Richmond ; 
 and exeunt, fighting. Retreat, and flourish. 
 Then enter Richmond, Stanley bearing the 
 crotvn, ivith divers other Lords, and Forces. 
 
 Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, viofcv 
 rions friends ; 
 The day in our», the bloody ioz » ^^'^' 
 
 Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou ac- 
 quit tliee ! 
 Lo, here, this long-usm-ped royalty. 
 From the dead temples of this bloody wretch 
 Have I ptuck'd off, to grace thy brows withal ; 
 Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it 
 
 Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all ! — 
 But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living? 
 
 Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; 
 
 Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw 
 
 us. iside ? 
 
 Richm. What men of name are slain im either 
 
 Stan. Johndukeof Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers, 
 Sir Robert Brakenbury, and sir William BraiKJon. 
 
 Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. 
 Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled, 
 That in submission will return to us; 
 And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, 
 We will unite the white rose with the red : — 
 Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, 
 That long hath frown'd upon tlieir enmity ! — 
 What traitor hears me, and says not, — iimen? 
 England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; 
 The brother blindly shed the brother's blood. 
 The father rasiily slaughterd his own son, 
 The son, coinpell'd, been butcher to the siie ; 
 All this divided York and Lancaster, 
 Divided, in their dire division. — 
 O, now, let Ri(-hniond and Elizabeth, 
 The true succeeders of each roy;d house, 
 By God's fair ordinance conioin together! 
 And let their heirs, (God, il thy wdl be so,) 
 Enrich the time to come with sinootli-lac'c' |ieace. 
 With smiling plenty, and fair p o^^pf roiis days! 
 Abate tiie edge of traitors, grjuious Lord, 
 That would reduce tliese bloody days again. 
 And make poor England weep in streams of blood ! 
 Let them not live to taste this land's niciease, 
 That would wi^h treason wound this fair land's peace! 
 Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again ; 
 That she may long live here, God say — Amen! 
 
1 
 
 .TO 
 
 <N 
 
 p 
 
 The play of Henry !lie Eiglnh is one of linse whiL-li slill keeps po^isession of the slase bv the splemlour nf 
 Its pageantry. The coroimtnwi. al.mjt t..ity veins ago, ,!re\v the people together in imiltitiides fur a g,-e,.t i.-.r 
 of the wiiiter. \ et puMiii i- not llje only merit of this play. The meek sorrows, and virtnous distress of Kalha 
 nne, have tuniished some scenes, wliuii miy bj. justly numbered among the greatest cftbrts of tragedy lint tUo 
 genius of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Kaiharine. Every other part may lie easily conceived and easily 
 written. ■' 
 
 The second scene of the fmnlh act is above any oilier of Sliakspeore's tragedies, and perhapa almve any scene nf 
 any other i)oet : lender and i)atlieli<-, without gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices; wiilioui ihe help of 
 romont'ic circumstances, without improbahie sallies of poetical lamentation, and without any throes of Imnultiious 
 ™=*'^'>- Jo'utscu. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 CARDINAL WO SKY. 
 
 CARDINAL CAMPl!-lUS. 
 
 C.APL'CIUS, Amhassailur from Ihe Rmpi^ror Charles V. 
 
 CRANMKR. Arckhixhup of Canterbury. 
 
 DUKt; OF NORFOLK. 
 
 DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 DUKE OF SUFFOLK. 
 
 KARL OF SURREY. 
 
 Lord Chimbrrlaiii, 
 
 Lota Chanceitor 
 
 GARDINER. Bixhop of Winchester. 
 
 BlSHOl' OE LINCOLN 
 
 LORD ABERGAVENNY. 
 
 LORD SANDS 
 
 SIR HENRY GUILDFORD. 
 
 SIR THOMAS LOVELL. 
 
 SIR ANTHONY DENNY. 
 
 SIR NICHOLAS VAUX. 
 
 Sfcretitries to Wolsey. 
 
 CROMWELL, Servant to Wolsey. 
 
 GRIFFITH, CnitL'm.tn- Usher to Queen Katharine 
 
 Three other Gentlemen. 
 
 DOCTOR BUTTS, I'hysician to the King. 
 
 Garter, King at Arms. 
 
 Surveyor In 'ikf Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 BRANDON, anil a Sergeant at Anns. 
 
 Duor keeper of the Council- Chamber. 
 
 I'orter, and his Man. 
 
 Page to Gardiner. 
 
 A Crier. 
 
 QUEEN KATHARINE, Wife to King Henry, aflerwarch 
 dirorced. 
 
 ANNE BULLEN, her Maid of Honour, afterwardi 
 Queen. 
 
 An old Liidy, Friend to Anne Biillen. 
 
 PATIENCE, Woman tu Queen Katharine. 
 
 Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows ; Women 
 attending upon Ihe Queen ; Spirits which appear lo 
 her; Scribes Officers, Guards, and o her Attend- 
 ants. 
 
 Scene, — Chiefly in London and Westminster ; once at Kimbolton. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 I coine no more to make yon latifjli ; tilings now. 
 That bear a weighty and a serious brow, 
 S:trl, high, and working, lull of state and woe, 
 Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, 
 VVe now present. Those that can pity, here 
 May, ifthey think it well, let fall a tear; 
 The subject will deserve it. Such, as give 
 Their money out of hojie they may believe, 
 "May here find truth too. Those, .that come to see 
 Only a shew or two, and so agree. 
 The play may pass; ifthey be still, and willing, 
 I'll undertake, may see away their shilling 
 llichly ill two short hours. Only they, 
 That coine to hear a merry, bawdy play, 
 A noise of targets ; or to see a fellow 
 In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow. 
 Will be deceiv'd: for, gentle hearers, kriow. 
 To rank our chosen truth with such a sliew 
 As foul and fight is, beside forfeiting 
 Our own hrnins, and the opinion that we bring, 
 ('lo make that only true we now intend,) 
 Will leave us never an understanding friend. 
 Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known 
 The first and happiest Isearers of the town. 
 Be sad, as we woul<i nrike ye : tiiink, ye see 
 The very persons of our noble story. 
 As they were living; think you see theia grcs.ij 
 And lollow'd with the geneT,; ijiir^iMj-, aail a^v?l.:,' 
 Of thousand friends : then, la a tn.-irrriei!*, ST.r, 
 How siion this mightiness m^c-ta raissryi 
 And, if you can be merry th:!-;, I'll say, 
 A man may weep upon his w. 'ddiD,^ de^r 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — London. An Anm-ctiamher in the 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter lite Duhe o/ Norfolk, at one door; at the 
 other, the Dwi-e o/BucKiNGH.\M, and the Lord 
 Abergavenny. 
 
 ^uck. Good morrow, 
 yoa done, 
 
 and well met. How have 
 
 Since last we saw in France ? 
 
 Nor. I thank your grace : 
 
 Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer 
 Of what 1. saw there. 
 
 Buck. An untimely ague 
 
 Stay'd me a prisoner in my cliainber, when 
 Those suns of glory, those two ligius of men, 
 Met in tlie vale of Aide. 
 
 ^or. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde : 
 
 I was then present, saw them salute on horseback ; 
 Beheld them, when they lighted, how tiiey clung 
 In their embracement, as they grew together; 
 Which had they, what i'our ttiion'd ones could havo 
 
 weighd 
 Such a compounded one ? 
 
 Buck. All the whole time 
 
 I was my chamber's prisoner 
 
 Nor. Then you lost 
 
 The \iew of earthly glory: Men might .say, 
 Till this time pomp was siiiyle; but now married 
 'i'o one above itself. Each following d:iy 
 Became the ne.it day's masti-r, till tl'e last 
 iVIade former wonders its: Today, the French, 
 All clincpiant, all in go.J, like heathen yods. 
 Shone down the hnglish ; and, to-morrow, they 
 Made Britain, India: every man. tli.it stood, 
 Shew'd likf a mine. I'heir dwarfisii pages were 
 As cheriihiins, all gilt: the niadanistoo. 
 Not us"d to toil, ilid almost sweat to bear 
 The pride upon them, that their very labriur 
 Was to them as a painfing : now this mask 
 Was cry'd incumparable ; and the ensuing nighf 
 Made it a fool, and begL;ar. 'I'lie two kings, 
 Equal in lustre, were now best, now worat, 
 As presence did present (liem ; him in eye, 
 Still him in praise : and. bring present hi.th, 
 'I'was said they saw but one ; aiifl no discerner 
 Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these .suns 
 (Forso they phrase them,) by (lieir heralds chal- 
 
 leii£;'d 
 The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
 Beyond thought's compass : that former fabulous 
 
 .story, 
 Being now seen possible enough, got r.red. 
 
490 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Tliat Bevis was believ'tK 
 
 Buck. O, you go fir. 
 
 Nor. As I belong to woishij), and allect 
 !ii lionoiir honesty, the tiaet oi every thing 
 Would by a good discourser lose some lite, 
 Wliich action's self was tongue to. All was royal; 
 To tlie disposing of" it nouglit lebell'd, 
 Order gave each thing view ; the office did 
 Distinctly his full function. 
 
 Buck. Who did guide, 
 
 f nifHTi, who set the body and the limbs 
 Of this great sport together, as you guess ? 
 
 Nur. One, certes, tliat promises no element 
 In such a business. 
 Buck. I pray yon, who, my lord ? 
 
 Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion 
 Oi the right reverend cardinal of Vork. 
 
 Buck. The devil speed him ! no man's pie is free'd 
 From Iris ambitious finger. What had he 
 To do in tliese fierce vanities ? I wonder. 
 That such a keech can with his very bulk 
 Take up the ray o' the beneficial sun, 
 And keep it from tiie earth. 
 
 Nor. Surely, sir. 
 
 There's in him stulF, that puts him to these ends : 
 For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace 
 Chalks successors their way,) cor call'd upon 
 For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied 
 'I'o eminent assistants, but, spider-like. 
 Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note. 
 The force of his own merit makes his way; 
 A gift that Heaven gives for hira, whicli buys 
 A place next to the king. 
 
 Aher. I cannot tell 
 
 What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye 
 Pierce into that ; but I can see his pride 
 Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that? 
 If not from hell Hie devil is a niggard ; 
 Or Iwis given all before, and he begms 
 A new hell in himself. 
 
 Buck. Why the devil, 
 
 U|)on this French going-out, took he upon him, 
 \V ithout the privity o' the king, to appoint 
 W lio sliould attend on him :" He makes up the file 
 Of all the gentry; for the most part such 
 'too, whom as great a charge as little honour 
 ife meant to lay upon ; and his ovvn letter, 
 Tlie honourable board of council out. 
 Must fetch hira in the papers. 
 
 Aber. 1 do know 
 
 Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have 
 By this so sicken'd their estates, that never 
 They shall abound as formerly. 
 
 Buck. O, many 
 
 Have broke their backs with laying manors on them 
 For tiiis great journey. What did this vanity, 
 But minister couiniunication of 
 A most poor issue i 
 
 Nor. Grievingly I think, 
 
 Tlie peace between the French and us not values 
 'i'hf coat that did conclude it. 
 
 Buck. Every man. 
 
 Alter the liideous storm that follovv'd, was 
 A thing iuspir'd: and, not consulting, broke 
 Tnto a general prophecy, — That this tempest. 
 Dashing tiie garment of this peace, aboded 
 The suddrd breach on't. 
 
 Nor. Which is budded out; 
 
 For France halh fla\v"d the league, and hath attach'd 
 Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. 
 
 Ahtr. Is it therefore 
 
 The ambassador is silenc'd ? 
 
 Nor. Marry, is"t. 
 
 Aber. A proper title of a peace ; and purchas'd 
 At a sui)ertiuous rate ! 
 
 Buck. Why, all this business 
 
 Our reverend cardinal carried. 
 
 Nor. 'Like it your grace. 
 
 The state takes notice of the private difference 
 Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you. 
 
 (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards yon 
 Honour and plenteous saleiy.) that you read 
 The rarduial's malice anil his potency 
 Together : to consider lurthi-r, that 
 Wliat his higii hatred would etl'ect, wants not 
 A minister in his power: You know his nature, 
 'I'hat he's revengeful ; and I know, his sword 
 Hath a sharp edge : it's long, and, it may be said. 
 It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend. 
 Thither he d.irts it. Bosom up my counsel. 
 You'll find it wholesome. Lo, wliere comes that 
 'I'hat I advise your shunning. [rock. 
 
 Elder Cardinal Wolsey, (the purse borne before 
 him,) certain of the Guard, and tivo Secretaries 
 with papers. T/ie Cardinal in kis passage JixetA 
 his eye on Buckinf/hain, and Buckimj/ifini on 
 Aim, both full of disdain. 
 
 Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor:' ha? 
 Where's his examination "i" 
 
 1 Seer. Here, so please you. 
 
 Wol. Is he in person ready ? 
 
 1 Seer. Ay, please your grace. 
 
 Wol. Well, we shall then know more ; and IJiick- 
 ingham 
 Shall lessen this big look. * 
 
 [Exeunt Wolsey, and Train. 
 
 Buck. This butcher's cur is venom- moutii'd, and I 
 Have not the power to muzzle liim ; therefore, best 
 Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book 
 Out-worths a noble's blood. 
 
 Nor. What, are you chaf'd ? 
 
 Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only. 
 Which your disease requires. 
 
 Buck. I read in his looks 
 
 Matter against me; and bis eye revii'd 
 Me, as his abject object : at tliis instant 
 He bores me with some trick : He's goiie to the king; 
 I'll follow, and out-stare him. 
 
 Nor. Stay, my lord. 
 
 And let your reason with your choler question 
 What 'tis you go about : To climb steejj hills, 
 Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 
 A lull-hot horse ; who being allow'd his way, 
 Self mettle tires him. Not a man in England 
 Can advise me like you : be to yourself "» 
 
 As you would to your friend. 
 
 Buck. I'll to the king ; 
 
 And from a mouth of honour quite cry down 
 This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim. 
 There's difference in no persons. 
 
 Nor. Beadvis'd; 
 
 Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot, 
 That it do singe yourself: We may outrun. 
 By violent swiftness, that which we run at. 
 And lose by over-running. Know you not. 
 The fire, tliat mounts the liquor till it run o'er. 
 In seeming to augment it, wastes it ? Beadvis'd: 
 I say again, there is no English soul 
 More stronger to direct you than yourself. 
 If with the sap of reason you would quench, 
 Or hut allay, the fire of passion. 
 
 Buck. Sir, 
 
 I am thankfjil to you ; and I'll go along 
 By your prescription : — but this tp proud fellow, 
 (Whom from the flow ol gall I name not, but 
 From sincere motions,) by intelligence, 
 -And proofs as clear as founts in July, when 
 We see each grain of gravel, I do know 
 To he corrui.t and treasonous. 
 
 Nor. Say not, treasonons 
 
 Buck. To the king I'll say't; and make my vout:; 
 as strong 
 As shore of rock. Attend. Thi.s holy fox. 
 Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous. 
 As he is subtle ; and as prone to mischief. 
 As able to perform it : his mind and place 
 Inf'ecting one another, \ea, reciprocally,) 
 Only to shew his pomp as well in France 
 As nere at home, suggests the kiu^^ our master 
 
 I 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VIIL 
 
 401 
 
 To this last costly treaty, the interview, 
 
 That swadow'd so miicli treasure, and like a glass 
 
 Dill break i' the riusincf. 
 
 JSor. 'Faitli, and so it did. 
 
 Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning 
 cardinal 
 The articles o' the combination drew. 
 As liiffiself pleas'd ; and they were ratified. 
 As he cried, Thus let be : to as much end. 
 As give a crutch to the dead : But our count-car- 
 dinal 
 Flas done this, and 'tis well ; for worthy VVoIsey, 
 Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, 
 (Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy 
 To flie old dam, treason,) — Charles the emperor. 
 Under pretence to see the queen his aunt, 
 
 iFor 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came 
 ^o wliisper VVoIsey ,) here makes visitation : 
 His fears were, that the interview betwixt 
 England and France might, through their amity, 
 Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league 
 Peep'd harms, that menac'd him : He privily 
 Deals with our cardinal ; and, as I trow, — 
 Which I do well ; for, I am sure, the emperor 
 Paid ere he promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted. 
 Ere it was ask'd \ — but when the way was made, 
 And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd ; — 
 That he would please to alter the king's course. 
 And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know, 
 (As soon he shall by me,) that thus the cardinal 
 Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases. 
 And for his own advantage. 
 
 Nor. I am sorry 
 
 To hear this of him; and could wish, he were 
 Something mistaken in't. 
 
 Bud: No, not a syllable ; 
 
 I do pronounce him in that very shape. 
 He shall appear in proof. 
 
 Enter Brandox; a Sergeant at Arms before him, 
 and two or three of the Guard. 
 
 Bran, i'our office, sergeant; execute it. 
 
 iierg. Sir, 
 
 My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl 
 Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I 
 Arrest thee of high treason, in the name 
 Of our most sovereign king. 
 
 Buck. Lo you, my lord. 
 
 The net has fallen upon me ; I shall perish 
 Under device and practice. 
 
 Bran. I am sorry 
 
 To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on 
 The business present; 'Tis his highness" pleasure, 
 You shall to the Tower. 
 
 Buck. It will help me nothing, 
 
 T© plead mine innocence ; for that die is on me, 
 Wliich makes my whitest part black. The will of 
 
 heaven 
 Be done in this ard all things ! — I obey. — 
 
 my lord Abergd'ny, fare you well. 
 
 Bran. Nay, he must bear you company : — The 
 king {To Abergavenny.) 
 
 Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know 
 How he determines further. 
 
 Aber. As the duke said. 
 
 The will of heaven te done, and the king's pleasure 
 By me obey'd. 
 
 Brand. Here is a warrant from 
 
 The king, to attach lord Alontaciite : and the bodies 
 Of the dukes confessor, John de la Court, 
 One (Jilbert Peck, his chancellor. — 
 
 Buck. So, so ; 
 
 These are the limbs of the plot : No more, I hope. 
 
 Bran. A monk o' the Cliarfreux. 
 
 Buck. O, Nicolas Hopkins ? 
 
 Bran. He. 
 
 Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great car- 
 dinal 
 Hath <hevv'd him gold : my life is spann'd already: 
 I am tbe shadow of poor Buckingham; 
 
 Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, 
 By darkening my clear sun. — My lord, farewell. 
 
 [Exeiuit 
 Scene H. — The Council-Chamber. 
 Cornets. Enter King Henry. Cardinal Wol ev, 
 
 the Lords of the Council, Sir Thomas Lovkli, 
 
 Officers, and Attendants. The King eiitrr^i, 
 
 leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder. 
 
 K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart nf it. 
 Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the levtl ^ 
 Of a fiill-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks 
 To you, that chok'd it. — Let be cali'd before us 
 That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person 
 I'll hear him his confessions justify ; 
 And point by point the treasons of his master 
 He shall again relate. 
 The King takes his State. The Lords of the 
 
 Council take their several places. The Cardinal 
 
 places himself under the King's feet, on his 
 
 right side. 
 A noise within, crying. Room for the Queen, 
 
 Enter the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of 
 
 Norfolk a?id Suffolk : she kneels. The King 
 
 risethfrom his State, takes her up, kisses, and 
 
 placeth her by him. 
 
 Q. Kath. Nay, \\e must longer kneel : I am a 
 suitor. 
 
 K, Hen. Arise, and take place by us : — Half 
 your suit 
 Never name to us ; you have half our power : 
 The other nioiefy, ere you ask, is given; 
 Repeat your will, and take it. 
 
 Q. Kath. Thank your majesty. 
 
 That you would love yourself; and, in that love, 
 Not imconsider'd leave your honour, nor 
 The dignity of your office, is the point 
 Of my petition. 
 
 K. Hen. Lady mine, proceed. 
 
 Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few. 
 And those of true condition, that your subjects 
 Are in great grievance : there have been commis- 
 sions 
 Sent down a nongthem, which hath tlaw'dthe heart 
 Of all their loyalties : — wherein, although. 
 My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches 
 Most bitterly on yon, as putter-on 
 Of these exactions, yet the king our master, 
 (VVhose honour heaven shield from soil ! ) even he 
 
 escapes not 
 Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks 
 The sides of loyalty, and almost appears 
 In loud rebellion. 
 
 Nor. Not almost appears. 
 
 It doth appear : for, upon these taxations, 
 The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
 The many to them 'longing, have put off 
 The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, 
 Unfit for other lile, compell'd by hunger, ^ 
 
 And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
 During the event to the ff'elh, are all in uproar. 
 And dnnger serves among them. 
 
 K. Hen. Taxation ! 
 
 Wherein!" and what taxations? — My lord cardinal 
 V'ou, that are blam'd for it alike with us, 
 Know you of this taxation ? 
 
 Wol. Please you, sir, 
 
 I know but of a single part, in aught 
 Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file. 
 Where dlhers tell steps with me. 
 
 Q. Kath. No, my lord. 
 
 You know no more than others : but you frame 
 Things, that are known alike ; which are not whole- 
 some 
 To those which wonkl not know them, and yet must 
 Perforce bt- their acq:iaintance. 'I'liese exiictions. 
 Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are 
 Most pestilent to the hearing ; and, to bear them. 
 The hack is sairifii-i' t.) the load. They s.ty, 
 They are devis il by you ; or else you sutler 
 
492 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Too hard an exclamation. 
 
 A'. Heiu Still exaction ! 
 
 Tiie nature of it? In wliat kind, let's know. 
 Is this exaction? 
 
 Q, Kath. I am much too venturous 
 
 In ten(i)ting of your patience ; but am boklen'd 
 Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's f;rief 
 Comes through commissions, which compel from 
 
 each 
 The sixtli part of his substance, to be levied 
 Without cklay ; and tlie pretence for this 
 Is nam'd, your wars in France : — Tins makes hold 
 
 mouths : 
 Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze 
 Allegiance in them: their curses now 
 Live, where their prayers did : and it's come to pass, 
 That tractable obedience is a slave 
 To each incensed will. I would, your highness 
 Would give it quick consideration, for 
 There is no primer business. 
 
 K. Hen. By my life. 
 
 This is against our pleasure. 
 
 Wul. And for me, 
 
 I iiave no further gone in this, than by 
 A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but 
 I5y learned approbation of the judges. 
 Ill am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know 
 I\Iy facidties. nor person, yet will be 
 The chronicles of my doing, — let me say, 
 "I'is hut the fate of place, and the rotigli brake. 
 That virtue must go through. We must not stint 
 Our necessary actions, in the fear 
 To ~ )pe malicious censurers; which ever, 
 As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow. 
 That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further 
 Thau \ainly longing. What we oft do best, 
 15y sick interpreters, once weak ones, is 
 Not ours, or not allowed ; what worst, as ofl, 
 Hitting a grosser quality, is cried ui) 
 For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
 In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 
 We should take root here where we sit, or sit 
 State statues only. 
 
 K. Hen. Things done well. 
 
 And with a care, exempt themselves from fear: 
 Things, done without example, in their issue 
 Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent 
 Of this commission ? I believe, not any. 
 We nmst not rend our subjects from our laws, 
 And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each ? 
 A trembling contribution ! Wliy, we take. 
 From every tree, lop, bark, and part o" the timber ; 
 And, though we leave it with a root, thus liack'd. 
 The air will drink tiie sap. To every county. 
 Where this is question'd, send our letters, with 
 Free pardoii to each man that has denied 
 The force of this coiniiiission : Pray, look to't; 
 I put it to your care. 
 
 Wol. A word with you. 
 
 (To the Secretary.) 
 Let there be letters writ to every shire, 
 Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd com- 
 mons 
 Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd, 
 That, through our intercession, this revokement 
 Ai'(l pardon comes: I shall anon advise you 
 Fiiriher in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary. 
 
 Enter Surveyor. 
 
 Q- Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham 
 Is run in your displeasure. 
 
 K. Hen It grieves many : 
 
 The nentleman is leam'd, and a most raie speaker, 
 To n;itiire none more bound ; his tiaining such, 
 Th:it he n-ay furnish and instruct great teachers, 
 .^nd never seek for aid out of himself. 
 Yet see 
 
 When tliese so noble benefit? shall prove 
 Nut well dispos'd, the mind growingonce corrupt, 
 They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 
 
 Tlian ever they were fair. This man so complete, 
 Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we. 
 Almost with ravish'd li.st'ning, could not find 
 His hour of speech a minute ; he, my lady, 
 Hath into monstrous habits put the graces. 
 That once were his, and is become as black 
 As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us ; you shall hear 
 rrhis was his ge?itlemaii in trust,) ol liim 
 Things to strike honour sad. — Bid him recount 
 The fore-recited practices; whereof 
 We cannot feel too little, hear too much. 
 
 Wol. Stand forth : and with bold spirit relate what 
 you, 
 
 Most like a careful subject, have collected 
 Out of the duke of Buckingham. 
 
 K. Hen. Speak fretly. 
 
 Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day 
 It would infect his speech. That if the' king 
 Should without issue die, he'd carry it so 
 To make the sceptre his : These very words 
 I have heard him utter to his son in law, 
 Lord Aberga'ny : to whom by oath he menac'd 
 Revenge upon the cardinal. 
 
 Wol. Please your hip.hness, note 
 
 This dangerous conception in this point. 
 Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
 His will is most malignant ; and it stretches 
 Beyond you, to your Iriends. 
 
 Q. Kath. My leam'd lord cardinal. 
 
 Deliver all with charity. 
 
 K. Hen. Speak on : 
 
 How grounded he his title to the crown, 
 Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him 
 At any time speak aught? 
 
 Sittv. He was brought to this 
 
 By a vain prophecy of Niciiolas Hopkins. 
 
 K. Hen. What was that Hopkins ? 
 
 Surv. Sir, a Cliartreux friar. 
 
 His confessor; who fed him every minute 
 With words of sovereignty. 
 
 K. Hen. How know'fst thou t:iis? 
 
 Surv. Not long before your highness .sped to 
 France, 
 The duke, being at the Rose, within the parish 
 Saint Lawrence Poiiltncy, did of nie demand 
 VV^hat was the siieech amongst the Londoners 
 Concerning the French journey : ( replied, 
 !Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, 
 'i'o the king's danger. Pre sentlv the diike 
 Said.'Twas the fear, indeed ; aud that he doubted, 
 'T would prove the verity of ccrtniu words 
 Spoke by a holy monk : that oft. says he, 
 Hfith sent to me. tvishimj me tu permit 
 .John de In Court, my chaplain, a choice hour 
 Til liear from him a matter of some moment: 
 Whom after under the conjessnm s seal 
 He solemnly had sworn, that what lie spoke, 
 My chaplain lo no creature lirinij. but 
 To me. should utter, with demure confidence. 
 This pausinf/ly ensu'd — Neither the Icintj^ nor his 
 
 heirs, 
 ("Tell yon the duke) shall prosper : hid l.ini strive 
 To yain the love oj' commonalty ; the dule 
 Shall ijorern Knyland. 
 
 Q. hath. If I know you well 
 
 You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your (jfliee 
 Oil the comjjhiint o' the tenants. Take j;o d iieed, 
 i ^'oiLcharge not in y>)ur spleen a noble person, 
 ' And spoil your nobler .'<oul I 1 s;iy, take heed ; 
 Yes. heaitily beseech you. 
 
 K. Hen. Let him on : 
 
 Go forward. 
 
 Sui-v. Oil my soni, I'll speak but truth. 
 1 told uiy lord the duke. By the devil's illnsions 
 The monk might be deceived ; and that 'tuas dang'- 
 I rolls lor him 
 
 To ruminat-' on this so l';ir, until 
 It forg'd him some design, wiiioh, beii.g believ'd. 
 It was much like to do: He answer'd. Tush! 
 It can do me no dcmnye : adding further 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 45)3 
 
 That, hatl the king in his last sickness fail'd, 
 The caidiual's and sir Thomas Lo>eirs heads 
 Slioiild have g(tne otK 
 
 K. Hen. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ah . 
 
 'i'nere's mischief iu this man ; Canst thou say 
 
 further ? 
 
 Siiri.'. I can, my liege. 
 
 A. Hen. Proceed. 
 
 •S/iru. Being at Greenwids, 
 
 Alter jour Iiii^hness iuid reprov'd the duke 
 Abuit s;r \V liham iJlonier, — 
 
 K. Hen. I remember, 
 
 Oi such a time : — Being my servant sworn, 
 
 'i'iie (hike retain'd Iniii his. But on; What 
 
 hence ;" 
 
 Sitrv. If, quoth he, I for this had been co?n- 
 mitted, 
 As to the T 010 er. I thought., — 1 icoidd have plaij d 
 The part my father meant to act npon 
 The usurper Richard : tvho, being at Salisbury, 
 Made suit to come in his presence ; -which, if 
 
 (jranted, 
 As he made semblance of his duty, tvould 
 Have put his knife into him. 
 
 K. Hen. • A giant traitor! 
 
 Wol. Now, madam, may liis liighne.ss live in 
 ♦ieedom, 
 And this man out of prison ? 
 
 Q. Kath. God mend all ! 
 
 K. Hen. There's something more would out of 
 thee ; what say'st ? 
 
 Surv. After — the duke his father, — with the 
 knife. — 
 He stretcii'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, 
 Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes, 
 lie did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenoiir 
 Was, — W'ere he evil us'd, he would out go 
 His f.ither, by as much as performance 
 Does an irresolute purpose. 
 
 K. Hen. There's his period, 
 
 'I'o sheatli his knife in us. He is attach'd; 
 ("all hinj t(> present trial: if he ir.ay 
 rind mercy m the law, "tis his; if none, 
 Let him not seek't of us : by day and night, 
 He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — A Room in the Palace, 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands. 
 Cham, Is it possible, the spells of France should 
 ji'ggle 
 I\len into such strange mysteries ? 
 
 Sands, New customs, 
 
 Though they be never so ridiculous. 
 Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 
 
 Cham, As far as I see, all the good our English 
 Haxe not by the late vojage, is hut merely 
 A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones: 
 For, when they hold them, you would swe.-w directly, 
 'i'heir very noses had been counsellors 
 To Pepin, or Clothariiis. they keep state so, 
 
 Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; 
 one would take it, 
 That never saw them pace bel'jre, the spavin, 
 A spri.ighalt reign'd among Ih n\, 
 
 Cham. Death ! my lord, 
 
 heir clothes are after such a pagan cut too, 
 hat surf", they have worn out Christendom. How 
 now ? 
 What news, sir Thomas Lovell ? 
 
 Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. 
 
 Lov. 'Faith, ray lord, 
 
 f liear of none, but the new proclamation 
 That's claj-p'd upon the court-gate. 
 
 Ch^an. What is't for? 
 
 Lov riie reformation of our travell'd gallants, 
 Th^t I'l'l tlie court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. 
 
 Cham. I aui glad, 'tis there . now 1 would pray 
 oir mc nsieurs 
 To think .in tiii,i,lisii couriier may be wise. 
 
 e curcUnal 
 
 And never see the ijouvre. 
 
 lioo. They nmst either 
 
 (For so run the conditions,) |pa\e these remn nta 
 Offool, and feather, tliatlhey got in France, 
 W^ith all their himourahle points of ignorance. 
 Pertaining thereunto, as tights, and fireworks 
 Abusing better men than they can be, 
 Out ofn foreign wisdom,} renoimciiig clean 
 The faith they have in tenuis, and tall .stockings. 
 Short blistpi'd breeciits, and those types of travel. 
 And understand ai;ain like honest men; 
 Or pack to their old playfellows : there, 1 take it. 
 They may,' cum privilegio, wear away 
 The lag end ottlieir lewdness, and be langh'd at. 
 
 Sa7ids. 'Tis time to gixe them [ hysic, their 
 diseases 
 Are grown so catching. 
 
 Cham. What a loss our ladies 
 
 Will have of these trim vanities ! 
 
 Lov. Ay, marry. 
 
 There will be woe indeed, lords; the sly whoresons 
 Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ; 
 A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow. 
 
 Sands, 'i'he devil fiddle them, 1 am glad they're 
 going ; 
 (I'or, sure, tiiere's no converting of them :) now 
 An honest country lord, as I am, beaten 
 A longtime out of play, may bring his plain-song, 
 •And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-l.idy, 
 Held current music too. 
 
 ^ Cham. Well said, lord Sands : 
 
 Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. 
 
 Sands. No, my lord ; 
 
 Nor shall not, while I hav e a stump. 
 
 Chain. Sir Thomas, 
 
 Whither were you a-going ? 
 ^Lov. _ Totb 
 
 Vour lordship is a guest too. 
 
 Cham. ■ O, 'tis true : 
 
 This night he makes a supper, and a great one. 
 To many lords and ladies; there will be 
 The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. 
 
 Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind 
 indeed, 
 A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; 
 His dews fall every where. 
 
 Cham. No doubt, he's noble; 
 
 He had a black mouth, that said other of him. 
 
 Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal 
 in him. 
 Sparing would shew •• worse sin than ill doctrine: 
 Men of his way should be most liberal. 
 They are set here for examples. 
 
 Cham. True, they are so ; 
 
 But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; 
 Your lordship shall along : — Come, good sir Thomas 
 We shall be late else : which I would not be. 
 For 1 was spoke to with sir Henry Guildford, 
 This night to be comptrollers. 
 
 Sands, I am your lordship'.s. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — The Presence-Chamber in York- 
 Place. 
 Hautboys. A small table under a state for the 
 Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Enter 
 at one door Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, 
 Ladies, and Gentleivomen, as guests ; at an- 
 other door, enter Sir Henry Guildford. 
 Guild, Ladies, a general welcome from his grace 
 Salutes ye all : This night he dedicates 
 To fair content, and you : none here, he hopes 
 In all this noble bevy, has brought with her 
 One care abroad ; he would have all as merry 
 As first-good company, good wine, good welcome. 
 Can make good people. — O my lord, you are 
 tardy ; 
 
 Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir 
 Thomas Lovell,. 
 
 The very thoughts of this fair company 
 
494 
 
 KING HENRY YIII. 
 
 Aci- !. 
 
 Clapp'd wings to me. 
 
 Cham. Y'ou are young, sir Harry Guildford. 
 
 Sands. SirThoiiiHS Lovell, had the curdinal 
 Out hull' my lay-thoiiglits in him, some of these 
 Siiould find a running banquet ere they rested, 
 I think, would better please them : By my life, 
 They are a sweet society of fair ones.^ 
 
 Lov. O, that your lordship wej^, bat "now confessor 
 To one or two of these ! 
 
 Sands. I would, I were ; 
 
 They should find easy penance. 
 
 IjOV. 'Faith, how easy? 
 
 Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it. 
 
 Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir 
 Harry, 
 Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this: 
 His grace is ent'ring. — Nay, you must not freeze ; 
 Two women plac'd together makes cold weather: — 
 My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking ; 
 Pray, sit between these ladies. 
 
 Sands. By my faith. 
 
 And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet 
 ladies : 
 [Seats himself let ween Anne Bidlen and 
 another lady.) 
 If I chance (o talk a little wild, forgive me ; 
 I had it from my father. 
 
 Anne. Was he mad, sir? 
 
 Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too : 
 But he would bite none ; just as I do now. 
 He would kiss you twenty v/ith a breath. (/{'/sses her.) 
 
 Oham. Well said, my lord. — 
 
 So now you are fairly seated : — Gentlemen, 
 The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies 
 Pass away frowning. 
 
 Sands. For my little cure, 
 
 Let nie alone. 
 
 Hauthoijs. Enter Cardinal W^olsey, attended ; 
 and takes his state. 
 
 Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests; that 
 noble lady. 
 Or gentleman, that is not freely merry. 
 Is not my friend : This, to confirm my welcome ; 
 And to you all good health. [Drinks.) 
 
 Sands. Your grace is noble : — 
 
 Let me have such a bow] may hold my thanks. 
 And save me so much talking. 
 
 Wol. My lord Sands, 
 
 I am beholden to you : rheer your neighbours. — 
 Ladies, you are not merry , — Gentlemen, 
 Whose fault is this? 
 
 Sands. The red wine first must rise 
 
 In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall have them 
 Talk us to silence. 
 
 Anne. You are a merry gamester, 
 
 My lord Sands. 
 
 Sands. Yes, if I make my piay. 
 
 Here's to your ladyship : and pledge it, madam, 
 For 'tis to such a thing, — 
 
 Anne. You cannot shew me. 
 
 Sands. I told your grace, they woidd talk anon. 
 [Drums and trumpets tviihin: Chambers 
 discharged.) 
 
 TVol. What's that ? 
 
 Cham. Look out there, some of you. 
 
 [Exit a Servant. 
 
 Wol. What warlike \oice I 
 
 And to what end is this? — Nay, ladies, fear not ; 
 By all the laws of war you are privileg'd. 
 
 Re-enter Servant. 
 
 Cham. Hov?now? whatis't? 
 
 Serv. A noble troop of strangers; 
 
 For 80 tiiey seem : they have left their barge, and 
 
 landed ; 
 And hither make, as great ambassadors 
 Froui foreign princes. 
 
 Wol. Good lord chamberlain, 
 
 Go, give them welcome, you can speak the French 
 
 tongue ; 
 And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct then 
 Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty 
 Shall shine at full upon them : — Some attend him. 
 
 [Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise, 
 and tables removed.) 
 You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it. 
 A good digestion to you all : and, once more, 
 I shower a welcome on you ; — Welcome all. _^ 
 
 Hauiboi/s. Enter the Kinn. and licelve others, as 
 inamkers, habited like shepherds, ivith six/eett 
 torch bearers ; nshered by the Lord Chamber- 
 lain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, 
 and ijracejully salute him. 
 
 A noble company ! what are their pleasures ? 
 
 Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they 
 pray'd 
 To tell your grace ; — That, having heard by fame 
 Of this so noble and so fair assembly 
 This night to meet here, they could do no less. 
 Out of the great respect tliey bear to beauty. 
 But leav e their flocks : and, under your fair conduct, 
 Crave leave to view these ladies, and eptreat 
 An hour of revels with theTli. 
 
 Wol. Say, lord chamberlain. 
 
 They have done my poor house grace; i'or which I 
 
 pay them [sures. 
 
 A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea- 
 
 [Ladies chosen for the dance. The King 
 
 chooses Anne Biillen.) 
 
 K. Hen. The iairest hand I ever touch'd ! O, 
 beauty, 
 Till now I never knew thee [Music. Dance.) 
 
 Wol. My lord 
 
 Cham. Your grace? 
 
 Wol. Pray, tell them thus much from me : 
 There should be one amongst them, by liis.person 
 More worthy this place than myself; to whom. 
 If I but knew him, with my love and duty 
 I would surrender it. 
 
 Cham. I will, my lord. 
 
 [Chamh. goes to the company, and returns.) 
 
 rVol. What say they ? 
 
 Cham. Such a one, they all cojiicss, 
 
 There is indeed; which they would have your grace 
 Find out, and he will take it. 
 
 Wol. Let me see then. — 
 
 (Comes from his .state.) 
 By all your good leaves, gentlemen ; — Here I'll make 
 My royal choice. 
 
 K. Hen. You have found him, cardinal : 
 
 [Unmasking.) 
 You hold a fair assembly ; yon do well, lord : 
 You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, 
 I should judge now unhappily. 
 
 Wol. I am glad. 
 
 Your grace is grown so pleasant. 
 
 K. Hen. ' My lord chamberlain, 
 
 PrNthee, come hither : What (air lady's that ? 
 
 Cham. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bul- 
 
 len's daughter, [women. 
 
 The viscount Rochford, one of her highness ; 
 
 K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.^Sweet 
 heart, 
 I were unmannerly, to take you out, 
 And not to kiss you. — A health, gentlemen. 
 Let it go round. 
 
 Wot. Sir 'I'liomas Lovell, is the banquet ready 
 1' the privy chamber? 
 
 Lov. Yes, my lord. 
 
 TFol. Your grace, 
 
 I fear, with dancing is a little heated. 
 
 K. Hen I fear, too much. 
 
 Wol. There's fresher air, my lord. 
 
 In the next chamber. 
 
 K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one. — Sweet 
 partner, 
 I must not yet iorsake you ■ — Let's be merry : — 
 
Act IL Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY YIII. 
 
 495 
 
 Good my Inrd ciirdiiial, I have half a dozen healths 
 'i"o drink to tliese (air ladies, and a iiieasiiie 
 To lead tiieiii once again ; and then let's dream 
 Wlios best in i'a\our. — Let the music knock it. 
 
 [Exeiait, with trumpets. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Street. 
 Enter 'two Gentleinen, meeting. 
 
 1 Gent. Whither away so fast ' 
 
 2 Gent. O,— God save yon ! 
 Even to the hall, to hear what shall become 
 
 Oi the fireat duke of Buckingham. 
 
 1 Gent. I'll save yon 
 Tiiut labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony 
 Of hrini;iiig^ hack the prisoner. 
 
 2 Gent. Were you there? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 
 
 2 Gent. l^ray, speak, what has liappen'd ? 
 
 1 Gejit. Vou may guess quickly what. 
 
 2 Gent. Is he found guilty ? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condenin'd upon it. 
 
 2 Gent. 1 am sorry I'or't. 
 
 1 Gent. So are a number more. 
 
 2 Gent. Hut i>ray, how pass'd it? 
 
 1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke 
 Came to the bar ; wheie, to his accusations, 
 He pleaded still, not guilty, aTid alleg'd 
 Many sharp reasons to deleat the law. 
 The king's attorney, on the contrary, 
 Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions 
 Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desir'd 
 To hiin brought, viva voce, to his face 
 At which api)ear'd against him, his surveyor: 
 Sir (xilbertPeck his chancellor; and John Court, 
 Confessor to him ; ^vith that devil-monk, 
 Hopkins, that made this niischief. ' 
 
 2 Gent. _ That was he. 
 
 That fed liim with his prophecies ? 
 
 1 Gent. The same. 
 All these accns'd him strongly; which he fain 
 Would have flung from him, but, indeed, be could 
 
 not : 
 And so his peers, upon this evidence, 
 Ha\e I'ound him guilty of high treason. Much 
 He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all 
 Was either pitied in hnn, or forgotten. 
 
 2 Gent. Alter all this, how did he bear himself? 
 
 1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, 
 
 — to hear 
 His knell rung out, his judgment, — he was stirr'd 
 With such an agony, he sweat extremely. 
 And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty. 
 But he fell to himself again, and sweetly. 
 In all the rest, shew'da most noble patience. 
 
 2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death. 
 
 1 Gent. Sure, he doth not, 
 He never was so womanish ; the cause 
 
 He may a little grieve at. 
 
 2 Gent. Certainly, 
 The cardinal is the end of this. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis likely. 
 
 By all conjrcturps: First, Kildare's attainder. 
 Then deputy of Ireland : who reniov'd. 
 Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, 
 Lest he should help his father. 
 
 2 Gent. That trick of state 
 Was a deep envious one. 
 
 1 Gent. At his return. 
 
 No doubt, he will requite. This is noted, 
 And generally ; whoever the king favours, 
 riip cardinal instantly will find employment, 
 And far enough from court too. 
 
 2 Gi-nt. AH the commons 
 Hate liLDi perniciously, and, o' my conscience, 
 Wisii Iv.m ten fathom deep: this duke as much 
 They love and dole on ; call him, bounteous Buck- 
 ingham, 
 
 1 he mirror of all courtesy ; — 
 
 1 Gent. St;iy there, sir. 
 And see the nohie ruin'd man you spt-ak of. 
 
 Enter BucKlNCHAM/row his arraignment ; Tip 
 staves before him; the axe zvith the edge 
 towards him ; halberds on each side : ivith hiin. 
 Sir Thomas Lovell. Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir 
 W ILHAM Sands, a7id common people. 
 
 2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him. 
 Buck. All good [jeopl,', 
 
 Y Oil, th:it thus far have come to pity me. 
 Hear what I say, and then no liome and lose me. 
 I have this diy receiv'd a traitor's judgment. 
 And by that name must die ; Yet, heaven bear wit- 
 ness. 
 And, if I have ,\ conscience, let it sink me. 
 Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful I 
 7'lie law I bear no malice for my death ; 
 It has done, upon the premises, but justice; 
 But those, that sought it, I could wish more chris 
 
 tians : 
 Be what they will, I heartily forgive them : 
 \ et let them look they glory not in mischief, 
 Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ; 
 For then my guiltless blood mastery against them. 
 For further life in this world I ne'er hope. 
 Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies 
 More than I dare make faults. You few, that Iov'(] 
 
 me, 
 .\nd dare be bold to weep for Buckingliam, 
 His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave 
 Is only bitter to him, only dying, 
 Go wiih ;;:e, like good angels, to my end ; 
 And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, 
 Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, 
 And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o' God's 
 name. 
 
 Lav. I do beseech your grace, for charity, 
 If ever any malice in your heart 
 Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. 
 
 Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you. 
 As I would be i'oigiveu : 1 forgive all ; 
 There cannot be those numberless olTenees 
 'Gainst me, leant take peace with: no black en\y 
 Shall make my grave. — Commend me to his grace ; 
 And, ii' he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell liiin, 
 Vou met him half in heaven : my vows and prayers 
 Y ef are the king's ; and, till my soul forsake me, 
 Shall cry for blessings cm him : May he live 
 Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
 Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be ! 
 .■^nd, when old time shall lend him to his end. 
 Goodness and he fill up one monument ! 
 
 Lov.To the water side I must conduct your grace ; 
 Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux, 
 W^ho undertakes you to your end. 
 
 Vaux. Prepare there. 
 
 The duke is coming : see, the barge be ready ; 
 And fit it with such furniture, as suits 
 The greatness of his person. 
 
 Buck. Nay, sir Nicholas, 
 
 Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me. 
 When I came hither, I was lord high constable, 
 And duke of Buckingham ; now, poor Edward 
 
 BohuD : 
 Yet I am richer than my base accuserti. 
 That never knew what truth meant; I now seal it ; 
 And with that blood will make them one day groan 
 My noble father, Henry of Buckingham. [for't 
 
 Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard, 
 Flying for succour to his servant Banister, 
 Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd. 
 And without trial fell ; Gods peace be with him J 
 Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying 
 My father's loss, like a most royal prince, 
 Restor'd me to my honours, and, out of riiins. 
 Made my name once moie noble. Now his son, 
 Henry the eighth, life, honour, na ne, and a!I 
 That made. me hajipy, at one stroke has taken 
 For ever from the world. 1 had my trial. 
 
495 
 
 KING HENRY VIIL 
 
 Act II. 
 
 And, must needs say, a noble one ; which makes rae 
 
 A little happier than my wretched father: 
 
 V'ei thus iar we are one in lortnnes, — Both 
 
 l-'eil by our servants, by those men we lov'd most; 
 
 A most unnatural and faithless service ! 
 
 IIea\ en has an end in all. Yet yon that hear me, 
 
 'Jiiis iVoni a dyiiiff man receive as certain: 
 
 \\"here you are liberal oi" your loves, and counsels, 
 
 Be suie, you be not loose ; for those you make 
 
 friends. 
 And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
 The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
 Like wafer from ye, never found again 
 But where they mean to sink ye. All good people, 
 Pray lor me ! I must now forsake ye ; the last hour 
 Of my long- weary life is come upon me. 
 Farewell. 
 
 And when you would say something that is sad. 
 Speak how J fell.— I have done ; and God forgive 
 
 me ! [Exeunt BiickiiKjham and Train. 
 
 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity !— Sir, it calls, 
 I fear, too many curses on their heads, 
 
 That were the authors. 
 
 2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless, 
 'Tis full of woe : yet I can give you inkling 
 
 Of an ensuing evil, if it fall. 
 Greater than this. 
 
 1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! 
 Where may it be ? You do not doubt my faith, sir ? 
 
 2 Ge7it. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require 
 A strong faith to conceal it. 
 
 1 Gent. Let me have it ; 
 I do not talk much. 
 
 2 Gent. I am confident ; 
 
 You shall, sir : Did you not of late days hear 
 A buzzing, of a separation 
 Between the king and Katharine ? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, but it held not : 
 For when the king once hea:-d it, out of anger 
 
 He sent command to the lord major, straight 
 To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues 
 That durst disperse it. 
 
 2 Gent. But that slander, sir, 
 Is found a truth now : for it grows again 
 Fresher than e'er it was ; and held for certain, 
 'i'he king will venture at it. Either the carilirml, 
 Or some about him near, have, out of malice 
 To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple 
 That will unclo her : To contirm this too, 
 Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately ; 
 
 As all think, lor this business. 
 
 1 Ge7it. 'Tis the cardinal ; 
 And merely to revenge him on the einperor. 
 For not bestowing on him, at his asking, 
 
 The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 
 
 2 Gent. I think, yon have hit the mark: But is't 
 
 not cruel. 
 That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal 
 Will have his will, and she must fall. 
 
 AGent. 'Tis woful. 
 
 We are too open here to argue this ; 
 Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — An Ante-Chamber in the Palace. 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter. 
 
 Chain. My lord, — The horses your lordship 
 sent for, with all the care I had, I saw luell 
 chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were younci, 
 andhandsome ; and of the best breed in the north. 
 \Vhe7i they tvere ready to set out for London, a 
 man of my lord cardinaj's, by commission, and 
 main poicer, took 'em from me ; with this reason. 
 — His master u'ould be served before a subject, if 
 not before the king : which stopped our mouths, 
 sir. 
 
 I fear he will, indeed : Well, let him Imvc them: 
 Ke will ha\e all, I think. 
 
 Enter the Dukes o/'NoiiFor.K and Suffolk. 
 Not ■ Will Mifi. my :;<..) 
 
 Lord chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good day to both your fjraces. 
 
 S?tf. How is the king employ 'd ? 
 
 Cham. 1 left him private, 
 
 Full ol sad thoughts and troubles. 
 
 A'or. What's the cause ? 
 
 Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother' 
 Has crept too near his conscience, [wife 
 
 Suf. No. his conscience 
 
 Has crept too near another lady. 
 
 Nor. 'Tis so ; 
 
 This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : 
 T hat blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune. 
 Turns what he lists. The king will know him one 
 day. [else 
 
 Suf. Pray God, he do! he'll never know himself 
 
 Nor. How holily he works in all his business ! 
 And with what zeal 1 For, now he has crack'd the 
 
 league 
 Between us and the emperor, the queen's great ne- 
 phew, 
 He dives into the king's soul ; and there scatters 
 Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience. 
 Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage : 
 And, out of all these to restore the king. 
 He counsels a divorce : a loss of her. 
 That, like a jevvel has hung twenty years 
 About his neck, yet never lost her lustre : 
 or her, that loves him with that excellence. 
 That angels love good men with ; even of her 
 That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls. 
 Will bless the king : And is not this course pious '^ 
 
 Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel ; 'Tif> 
 most true. 
 These news are every where ; every tongue speaks 
 
 them. 
 And every true heart weeps for't : All, that dare 
 Look into these atiairs, see this main end, — 
 The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open 
 The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon 
 This I'.otd bad man. 
 
 Suf. And free us from his slavery. 
 
 Nor. We had need pray, 
 And heartily, for our deliverance ; 
 Or this imperious man will work us all 
 Fiom princes into pages : all men's honours 
 Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd 
 Into what pitch he please. 
 
 Siif. For me, my lords, 
 
 I love him not, nor fear him, there's my creed : 
 As I am made without him, so I'll stand. 
 If the king please: his curses and his blessings 
 Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. 
 I knew him, and I know him ; so I leave him 
 To him, that made him proud, the pope. 
 
 Nor. Let's in ; 
 
 And, with some other business, put the king 
 From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon 
 My lord, you'll bear us company ? [him : — 
 
 Cham. Excuse me ; 
 
 The king hath sent rae other-where : besides, 
 You'll find a most unfit time to disturb hiiu . 
 Health to your lordships. 
 
 Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. 
 
 [Exit Lord Chamberlain 
 
 Norfolk opens a folding-door. The Kim/ is 
 discovered sitting, and reading pensively. 
 
 Suf. How sad he looks ! sure he is much afflicted. 
 
 K. Hen. Who is there ? ha ? 
 
 Nor. 'Pray God, he be not angry . 
 
 K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How date you 
 thrust yoursehes 
 Into my private meditations? 
 Who am I? ha? 
 
 Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all odences, 
 ]\1alicp ne'ei meant: our breach of duty (his way. 
 Is business of estate; in which we cuiiie 
 'i'o kiii.w your rojal pleasure. 
 
 K. }{en. ^ ou ate (oo hold ; 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 49T 
 
 Go lo ; I'h mase ye know your times of business : 
 is this an hour for temporal aflairs? ha ? — 
 
 Enter Wolsey a»d Campeius. 
 VV^ho's there ? my good lord cardinal ? — O my Wol- 
 The quiet of my wounded conscience, [sey, 
 
 Thou art a cure fit for a king — You're welcome, 
 
 (To Ca7npems.) 
 ]\Iost learned reverend sir, into our kingdom ; 
 Use us, and it : — My good lord, have great care 
 I be not found a talker. {To Wolsey.) 
 
 Wol. Sir, you cannot. 
 
 I would, your grace would give us but an iiour 
 Of private coni'erence. 
 
 K. Hen, VVe are busy; go. 
 
 ( To Norfolk and Suffolk.) 
 
 Nor. TJiis priest has no pride in hin> •" \ 
 
 St4f. Not to speak oi~; 
 
 1 would not be so sick though, fir his place 
 But this cannot continue. \Aside. 
 
 Nor. If it do, 
 
 I'll venture one heave at him. 
 
 Suf. I another. 
 
 [Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. 
 
 Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdoni 
 Aliove all princes, in committing freely 
 Your scruple to the voice of Cliristendom ; 
 VVho can be angry now ? what envy reach you ? 
 The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to lier, 
 Must now confess, if they have any goodness. 
 The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
 I mean, the learned ones, in christian kingdoms, 
 Have their free voices ; Rome, the nurse of judg- 
 [nvited by our noble self, hath sent (nient, 
 
 One general tongue unto us, this good man. 
 This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius ; 
 Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. 
 
 K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms I bid him 
 welcome. 
 And thank the holy conclave for their loves ; for. 
 Tliey have sent me such a man I would have vvish'd 
 
 Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' 
 You are so noble : To your liiglmess' hand [loves, 
 I tender my commission ; by whose virtue, 
 (The court of Rome commanding,) — you, my lord 
 Cardinal of York, arejoin'd with me their servant. 
 In the unpartial judging of this business, 
 
 A. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall be 
 acquainted 
 Forthwith, for what you come : — Where's Gardiner? 
 
 Wol, I know, your r.ajesty has always lov'd her 
 So dear in heart, not to deny her that 
 A Wf)man of less place might ask by law. 
 Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have ; and 
 my favour 
 To him that does best ; God forbid else. Cardinal, 
 I'r'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary ; 
 find him a fit fellow. [Exit Wolsey. 
 
 Re-enter WoLSEY, with Gardiner. 
 
 Wol. Give me your hand: much joy and favour 
 You are the king's now. [to you : 
 
 Gar. But to be commanded 
 
 For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. 
 
 {They converse apart.) 
 
 Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace 
 In this man's place before him ? 
 
 Wol. Yea, he was. 
 
 Cam. Was he not held a learned man ? 
 
 Wol. Yes, surely. 
 
 Cam. Believe me, there's an ill oi)inion spread 
 Evi n of yourself, lord cardinal. [then 
 
 Wol. How ! of me ? 
 
 Cam. They will not stick to say, you envied him ; 
 And. fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, 
 Kept liiin a foreign nwn still : \vh ch so griev'd him. 
 That he ran man and died. 
 
 Wol. Heaven's peacf he with him .' 
 
 That's christian care enough: for living murmurers, 
 There's places of rebuke. He was a fool ; 
 For he would needs be virtuous : That good fellow, 
 If I command him, follows my appointment; 
 I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, 
 We live not to he grip'd by meaner persons. 
 
 K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. 
 
 [Exit Gardiner 
 The most convenient place that I can think of. 
 For such receipt of learning, is Black-Fiiars ; 
 'I'here ye shall meet about this weighty business : — 
 My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, — O my lord. 
 Would it not grieve a» able man, to leave 
 So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience, — 
 O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A71 Ante-Chamber in the Queen's 
 
 Apartments. 
 
 Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. 
 
 Anne. Not tor that neither ; — Here's the pang 
 that pinches : 
 His liijjhness having liv'd so long with her; and ."he 
 So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
 Pronounce dishonour of her, — by my life 
 She never knew harm-doing; — O now, after 
 So many courses of the sun enthron'd. 
 Still growing in a majesty and pomp, — the which 
 'i'o leave is a thousandfold more bitter, than 
 'Tis sweet at first to acquire,— after this process. 
 To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity 
 Would move a monster. 
 
 Old L. Hearts of most hard temper 
 
 Melt and lament for her. 
 
 Anne. O, God's will ! much better 
 
 She ne'er had known pomp : though it be temporal, 
 Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce 
 It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging 
 As soul and body's severing. 
 ^ Ord. L. Alas, poor lady ! 
 
 She's a stranger now again. 
 
 Anne. Somuch the more 
 
 Must pity drop upon her. Verily, 
 I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born. 
 And range with humble livers in content. 
 Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief. 
 And wear a golden sorrow. 
 
 Old L. Our content 
 
 Is our best having. 
 
 Anne. By my troth, and maidenliead 
 
 I would not be a queen. 
 
 Old L. Beshrew me, I would. 
 
 And venture maidenhead for't: and so would you, 
 For all this spice of your hypocrisy : 
 You, that have so fair parts of woman on you. 
 Have too a woman's heart ; which ever yet 
 Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty ; 
 Which, to say sooth, are blessings : and which gifts 
 (Saving your mincing) the capacity • ^ 
 
 Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, 
 If you might please to stretch it. 
 
 Anne. Nay, good troth, — 
 
 Old L. Yes, troth, and troth, — You^ would not. 
 be a queen? 
 
 Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. 
 
 Old L. 'Tis strange ; a three-pence bowed would 
 hire me. 
 Old as I am, to queen it : But, I pray yon. 
 What think you of a duchess? have you hmbs 
 To bear that load of title ? 
 
 Anne. No, in tinth. 
 
 Old L. Then you are weakly made: Pluck ollin, 
 little; 
 I would not be a young count in your way. 
 For more than blushing comes to: if your back 
 Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak 
 Ever to get a boy. 
 
 Anne. How do you talk 1 
 
 I swear again, I would not be a queen 
 For all the world. 
 
498 
 
 KING HENRY YIIT. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 OldL. In faith, for little England 
 
 You'd venture an emballing: I myself 
 Would for Carnarvonshire, aitlioiigli there lonji'd 
 No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here ? 
 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth 
 The .secret of your conference? [to know 
 
 Anne. My good lord, 
 
 Not your demand ; it values not your asking : 
 Our mistress' .sorrows we were pitying. 
 
 Cham. It was a gentle b.u.siness, and becoming 
 The action of gooc^ women : there is hope, 
 All will be well. 
 
 Anne. Now I pray God, amen ! 
 
 Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly 
 blessings 
 Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, 
 Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's 
 Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty 
 Commends his good opinion to you, and 
 Does purpose honour to you no less flowing 
 Than marchioness of Penihroke ; to which title 
 A thousand pound a-year, annual support. 
 Out of his grace he adds. 
 
 Anne. I do not know, 
 
 Wiiat kind of my obedience I should tender; 
 More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers 
 Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes 
 More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers, and 
 
 wishes, *_ 
 
 Are all I can return. 'Beseecli your lordship, 
 Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience, 
 .-^s from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; 
 Whose health, and royalty, I pray for. 
 
 Cham. Lady, 
 
 1 shall not fail to approve the fair conceit 
 The king hath of you. — I have perus'd her well ; 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Hcauty and honour in her are so mingled, 
 Tiiat they have caught the king: and who knows yet, 
 IJut from tiiis lady may proceed a gem. 
 To iigliten all this isle ? — I'll to the king, 
 .And say, I spoke with you. 
 
 Anne. My honour'd lord. 
 
 [Exit Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see ! 
 [ have been begging sixteen years in court, 
 (Am yet a couitier beggarly,) nor could 
 Come pat betwixt too early and too late, 
 For any suit of pounds : and you, (O fate !) 
 .\ very fresh-fish here, (fy, fy upon 
 This compell'd fortune !) have your mouth fiU'd up. 
 Before you open it. 
 
 Anne. This is strange to nie. 
 
 Old L. How tastes it ? is it bitter 'i* forty pence, no. 
 There was a lady once, ('tis an old story,) 
 That would not be a queen, that would she not, 
 F^r all the mud in Egypt: — Have you heard it? 
 
 Anne. Come, you are pleasant. 
 
 Old L. With your theme, I could 
 
 ■Oeruiount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke ! 
 A thousand pounds a-year ! for pure respect ; 
 No otiier obligation : By my life. 
 That prcnnises more thousands : Honour's train 
 Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time, 
 [■know, your back will bear a duchess ; — Say, 
 Are you not stronger than you were ? 
 
 Anne. Good lady. 
 
 Make yourself mirth with your paVticular fancy. 
 And leave me outon't. 'Would I had no being. 
 If this salute ray blood a jot ; it faints me. 
 To think what iollows. 
 The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 
 In our long absence : Pray, do not deliver 
 What here you have heard, to her. 
 
 Old L. What do you think me ? [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene W.—A Hall in Black-Friars. 
 Trumpets, senet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers . 
 
 tvith short silver loands; next them, two Scribes, 
 in the hrthifs of doctors ; after th':in. the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, alone ; after him, the Bi- 
 shops of Lincoln, Ely. Rochester, and Saint 
 Asaph ; next them, icith some small distancs, 
 follows a Gentleman hearimj the purse, with the 
 great seal, and a cardinal's hat ; then two 
 Priests, bearing each a silver cross : then a 
 Gentleman- Usher bareheaded, accompanied 
 rvith a Sergent at Arms, bearing a silver mace; 
 then two Gentlemen, bearing two great silver 
 pillars ; after them, side by side, the two Car- 
 dinals, Wolsey and Campeiiis ; two Nobletnen 
 with the sivord and mare. Then enter the King 
 and Queen, and their Trains. The King takes 
 place under the cloth of state ; the two Cardi- 
 nals sit under him as judges. The Queen takes 
 place at some distance from the King. The 
 Bishops place themselves on each side the court. 
 in manner of a consistory ; between them the 
 Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishop. The 
 Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in 
 convenient order about the stage. 
 
 Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read. 
 Let silence be commanded. 
 
 K. Hen. What's the need ? 
 
 It hath already publicly been read. 
 And on all sides the authority allow'd ; 
 You may then spare that time. 
 
 Wol. Be't so : — Proceed. 
 
 Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into 
 the court 
 
 Crier. Henry king of England, &c. 
 
 K. Hen. Here. [into court. 
 
 Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come 
 
 Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c. 
 [The Queen tnakes no ansiver, rises out of her 
 
 chair, goes about the court, comes to the King^ 
 
 and kneels at his feet ; then speaks.) 
 
 Q. Kath. Sir, 1 desire you, do me right and 
 justice ; 
 And to bestow your pity on me : for 
 I am a most poor woman, and a stranger. 
 Born out of your dominions ; having here 
 No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance 
 Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir. 
 In what have I oft'ended you ? what cause 
 Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
 That thus you should proceed to put me ofl", 
 And take your good grace from me? Heaven wit 
 
 ness, 
 I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
 At all times to your will conformable : 
 Ever in fear to kindle your dislike. 
 Yea, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry. 
 As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, 
 1 ever contradicted your desire. 
 Or made it not mine too? Or which of your frien.if 
 Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
 He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine. 
 That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I 
 Continue in my liking ? nay, gave notice 
 He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind. 
 That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
 Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
 VVith many children by you : If, in the course 
 And process of this time, you can report, 
 And prove it too, against mine honour aught. 
 My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 
 Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
 Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
 Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
 To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir. 
 The king, your father, was reputed for 
 A prince most prudent, of an excellent ^ 
 And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand, 
 My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one 
 The wisest pi ince, that there had reign'd by many 
 A year before : It is pot to be queslioa'd, 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 499 
 
 That they had gather'H a wise council to them 
 Of every reahii, that did debate tliis business, 
 Who deera'd our marriage lawful : VVherefore 1 
 
 humbly 
 Beseech you, sir, to spare tne, till I may 
 Be by my friends in Spain advis'd ; whose counsel 
 I will implore : if not, i'the name of Ood, 
 Your pleasure be fuifiU'd ! 
 
 Wol. You have here, lady, 
 
 (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men 
 Of singular integrity and learning. 
 Yea, the elect of" the land, who are assembled 
 I'o plead your cause : It shall be therefore bootless 
 Thai longer you desire the court ; as well 
 For your own quiet, as to rectify 
 What is unsettled in the king. 
 
 Cam. His grace 
 
 Hath spoken well, and justly : Therefore, madam. 
 It's fit tiiis royal session do j)roceed ; 
 And that, without delay, their arguments 
 Be novv produc'd, and heard. 
 
 Q. Kat/t. Lord Cardinal, — 
 
 To you I speak. 
 
 Wal. Your pleasure, madam ? 
 
 Q. Kath. Sir, 
 
 V atn about to weep ; but, thinking that 
 We are a queen, (or long ha»e dream'd so,) certain, 
 The daughter of a king, my drops of tears 
 ril turn to sparks of lire. 
 
 Wol. Be patient yet. 
 
 Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble ; nay, be- 
 Or God will punish me. I do believe, [fore, 
 
 luduc'd by potent circumstances, that 
 You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge. 
 You shall not be my .judge ; for it is you 
 Have blown tiiis coal betwixt my lord and me, — 
 Which God's dew quench I — Therefore, I say again, 
 f utterly abhor, yea, from my soul, 
 Refuse you for my judge, whom, yet once more, 
 I hi)ld my most malicious foe, and tiiink not 
 At all a friend to truth. 
 
 Wol. I do profess. 
 
 You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 
 Have stood to charity ; and display'd the effects 
 Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom [wrong : 
 
 O'eitopping woman's power. jMadam, you do me 
 I have no spleen against you ; nor injustice 
 For you, or any : how far I have proceeded. 
 Or how far further sliall, is warranted 
 By a commission from the consistory, [me. 
 
 Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge 
 That I have blown tiiis coal : I do deny it : 
 The king is present: if it be known to him, 
 Tiiat I gainsay my deed, how may he wound. 
 And worthily, my falsehood ? yea, as much 
 As you have done ray truth. But. if he know 
 That I am free of your report, he knows, 
 I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him 
 It lies, to cure me ; and the cure is, to 
 Kemove these thoughts from you : The which before 
 His highness shall speak- in, I do beseech 
 You, gracious madam, to untiiink your speaking, 
 And to say so no more. 
 
 Q. Kath. My lord, ray lord, 
 
 r am a si iiple woman, much too weak 
 To oppo.-e your cunning. You are meek, and hum- 
 
 ble-niorth'd ; 
 You sign your place and calling, in fullseeminir. 
 With meekness and humility: but your heart 
 Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
 You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours. 
 Gone slightly o'er low steps ; and now are mounted, 
 Where powers are your retainers : and your words, 
 Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please 
 Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you. 
 You tei>der more your person's honour, than 
 Your hi^h profession spiritual : That again 
 I do refuse you for my judge ; and here, 
 Befi,re you all, appeal unto the pope. 
 To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, 
 
 And to be judg'd by him. 
 ('S7;e curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.) 
 
 Cam. 'I'he queen is obstinate. 
 
 Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and 
 Disdainful to be try'd by it ; 'tis not well. 
 She's going away. 
 
 K. Hen. Call her again. [the court. 
 
 Crier. Katharine queen of England, come into 
 
 (irif. Madam, you are called back. [your way : 
 
 Q. Kath. What need yon note it ? pray you, keep 
 When you are call'd, return. — Novv the Lord help. 
 They vex me past my patience I — pray you, pass on: 
 I will not tarry : no, nor ever more, 
 Upon this business, my appearance make 
 In any of their courts. 
 
 [Exeunt Queen, Griffith, and hir other 
 Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Go (hy ways, Kate: 
 
 That man i' the world, who shall report he has 
 A better wife, let in nought be trusted. 
 For speaking false in that : Thou art, alone, 
 (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
 Thy riieekness saint-like, wife like government, — 
 Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts 
 Sovereign and pious else, could speak then out,) 
 The queen of earthy queens : — She is noble born ; 
 And, like her true nobility, she has 
 Carried herself towards me. 
 
 Wol. Most gracious sir. 
 
 In humblest manner I require your highness, 
 'i'hat it sliall please you to declare, in hearing 
 Of all tiiese ears, (for where I am robb'd and bound, 
 There must I be unloos'd ; although not there 
 At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever I 
 Dill broach this business to your highness; or 
 Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
 Induce you to the question on't? or ever 
 Have to you, — but with thanks to God for suck 
 A royal lady, — spake one tlie least word, might 
 Be to the prejudice of her present state. 
 Or touch of her good person ? 
 
 K. Hen. My lord cardinal, 
 
 I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour, 
 I free you from't. You are not to he taught 
 That you have many enemies, that know not 
 Why they are so, but, like to village curs, 
 Bark when tiieir i'ellows do: by some of these 
 The queen is put in anger. You are excus'4: 
 But will you be more justified ? you ever 
 Have wiih'd the sleeping of tliis business : never 
 Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd : oft 
 The passages made toward it : — on my honour, 
 I speak my good lirJ cardinal to thin, point, 
 And thus far clear him. Now, whatmov'd me to't, — 
 I will be bold with time, and your attention v — 
 Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; — give 
 
 heed to't: — 
 My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness, 
 Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd 
 By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador j 
 Who had been hither sent on tlie debating 
 A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and 
 Ourdaughter Mary: I'the progressof this business,. 
 Ere a determinate resolution, he 
 (I mean, the bishop) did require a respite; 
 Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
 Whether our daughter were legitimate, 
 Respecting this our marriage with the dowager. 
 Sometimes our brother's wife. Tliis respite shook 
 The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me. 
 Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble 
 The region of niy breast; wliicli forc'd such way. 
 That many maz'd consideiings did throng, 
 .\nd pressd in with this caution. First, methought. 
 I stogd not in the smile of heaven ; who had 
 Commanded nature, that my lady's womb. 
 If it conceiv'd a male child by nie. should 
 Do no more offices of life to't, than 
 The grave does to (be dead : for her male issue 
 Or died where they were made, or sUortly alt«r 
 
500 
 
 KING HENRY YIII. 
 
 ActIL 
 
 This world had air'd them : PJence I took athought, 
 
 This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom, 
 
 Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should not 
 
 Be glarlded iii't by me : Then follows, that 
 
 I wei^h'd the danger, which my realm stood in 
 
 iiy this my issue's f<til ; and that gave to nie 
 
 Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in 
 
 'l"he wild sea of my conscience, 1 did steer 
 
 Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
 
 Now present here togellier; tlial's to say, 
 
 I meant to rectify my conscience, — which 
 
 I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, — 
 
 Uy all the reverend fathers ot the land. 
 
 And doctors learn'd.— First, I began in private 
 
 With you, my lord of Lincoln ; you remember 
 
 How under ray oppression I did reek. 
 
 When I first mov'd you. 
 
 Lin. Very well, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. I have spoke long ; be pleas'd yourself 
 How I'ar you satisfiea me. [to say 
 
 Lin. So please your highness. 
 
 The question did at first so stagger ine, — 
 Be ari ig a state of mighty moment in't. 
 And consequence of dread,— that I committed 
 The daring'st counsel, which 1 had, to doubt; 
 And did entreat your highness to this course. 
 Which you are runnning here. 
 
 K. Hen, I then mov'd yoa, 
 
 My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave 
 To make this present summons : — Unsolicited 
 I left no reverend person in this court; 
 But by particular consent proceede.d, 
 Unde: your hands and seals. Therefore, go on : 
 For no dislike i' the world against the person 
 Of the good queea, but the sharp thorny points 
 Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward : 
 Prove but our marriage lawful, by my lile, 
 And 'kingly dignity, we are contented 
 To wear our mortal state to come, with her, 
 Katharine our queen, before tlie primest creature. 
 That's paragon'd o'the world. 
 
 Cam. So please your highness, 
 
 The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness 
 That we adjourn this court till further day: 
 Meauwliile must be an earnest motion 
 Made to the queen, to call back her appeal 
 She intends unto his holiness. {They rise to depart.) 
 
 K. Hen. I niay perceive, [Aside.) 
 
 These cardinals trifle with me ; 1 abhor 
 This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. 
 ]Vly learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, 
 Pr'ythee return! with thy approach, 1 know. 
 My comfort comes along. Break up the court : 
 I^sy, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they entered. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Palace at Bridewell. A Room in the 
 Queen's Apartment. 
 
 The Queen, and some of her Women, at work. 
 
 Q Kath. Take thy lute, wench : my soul grows 
 
 sad with troubles ; [ing. 
 
 Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave work- 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Orpheus tvitk his lute tnade trees. 
 And the mountain-tops, that freeze, 
 
 Butu themselves, when he did sing 
 To his music, plants and flowers 
 Ever sprumj ; as sun, ana showers, 
 
 There had been a lasting spring. 
 
 E»ert/ thing that heard him play. 
 Even the billows of the sea. 
 
 Hung their heads, atid then lay by. 
 In sweet music is such art; 
 Killing care, and grief of heart. 
 
 Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 
 
 Enter a Gentlenian. 
 Q. Kath. How now '' 
 
 Gent. Ant please your grace, the two great car- 
 Wait in the presence. [dinals 
 
 Q. Kath. Would they speak with me r 
 
 Gent. They will'd me say so, madam. 
 
 Q. Kath. P'ay their graces 
 
 To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be theit 
 
 busine.ss 
 With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour ^ 
 I do not like their coming, now I think cn't. 
 They should be good men ; their affairs as rightecus: 
 liut all hoods make not monks. 
 
 Enter Wolsey and Campeius. 
 Wol. Peace to your highness! 
 
 Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of 3 
 housewife ; 
 I would be all, against the worst n)ay happen. 
 What are your pleasures with me, reverend lord ? 
 Wol. Miiy it please you, noble madam, to with- 
 dra.v 
 Into your private chamber, we shall give you 
 The full cause of our coming. 
 
 Q. Kath. Speak it here ; 
 
 There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience. 
 Deserves a corner : 'Would, all other women 
 Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! 
 My lords, I care not, (so much i am happy 
 Above a number,) if my actions 
 Were trieil by every tungue, every eye saw them. 
 Envy and base opinion set against them, 
 I know my life so even: If your business 
 Seek me out. and that way I am wile in, 
 Out with it bol'lly ; Truth loves open dealing. 
 
 Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis intcgritas, regina 
 
 serenissima, — 
 Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin; 
 I am not such a Iniant since n)y conting, 
 As not to know the language [ nave liv'd m; 
 A strange tongue makes my cause nvore strange, 
 suspicious: lyon. 
 
 Pray, speak in English : here are some will thank 
 If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake ; 
 Believe me, she has had mncb wrong: Lord cardinal 
 The willing'st sin 1 ever yet commuted. 
 May be absolv'd in English. 
 
 Wol. _ Noble lady, 
 
 I am sorry, my integrity should breed 
 (And service to his majesty and you,) 
 So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. 
 We come not, by the way of accusation, 
 'I'o taint that honour, every good tongue blesses; 
 Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ; 
 You have too much, good lady: but to know 
 How yon stand minded in the weighty difi'ertnce 
 Between the king and you ; and to deliver, 
 Like free and honest men, our just opinions. 
 And comforts to your cause. 
 
 Cam. Mosthonour'd madam, 
 
 My lord of York,-r-out of his noble nature. 
 Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace ; 
 Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
 Both of his truth and him, (which was too far,) — 
 Ofters, as I do, in a sign o(^ peace. 
 His service and .his counsel. 
 
 Q. Kath. To betray me. (Aside.) 
 
 My lords, 1 thank you both for your good wlls. 
 Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so I) 
 But how to make you suddenly an answer. 
 In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, 
 (More near my life, I fear,) with my vveak wit. 
 And to such men of gravity and learning. 
 In truth, I know not. I was set at work 
 Among my maids; full little, God knows, looking 
 Either for such men, or such business. 
 For her sake that I have been, (for I feel 
 'i'he last lit of my greatness.) good your graces. 
 Let me have time, and council, tor my cause; 
 Alas I 1 am a woman, friendless, hopeless. 
 
 Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love with 
 these fears; 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 501 
 
 Yowr hopes and friends are infinite. 
 
 Q. Kalh. In England, 
 
 But little far my profit: can you think, lords, 
 Thnt any Englishman dare gi^e me counsel ? 
 Or be a kih)wn I'ncnd, '(,'ain.st his highness' pleasure, 
 (Tliouoh he be grown so desperate to be honest,) 
 And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, 
 They, th it must weigh out my afflictions, 
 They, that my trust may grow to, live not here; 
 They are, as all my other comforts, far hence. 
 In my own country, lords. 
 
 Cam. I would, 5"our grace 
 
 Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. 
 Q. Kath. How, sir ? 
 
 Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro- i 
 taction ; | 
 
 HeJjs lovini^, and most gracious ; 'twil! be much 
 Both lor your honour better, and your cause ; 
 For, if the trial of the law oertake you, 
 You"ll part away disgrac'd. 
 
 Wol. He tells you rightly. 
 
 Q. Kath, Ye tell me what ye wish lor both, my 
 ruin : 
 Is this your christian counsel ? out upon ye ! 
 Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, 
 That no king can corrupt 
 
 Cam. Your rage mistakes us. 
 
 Q. Kath. The more shame for ye ; holy men I 
 thought ye. 
 Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues ; 
 But carilinal sins, and hollow hearts, 1 fear ye : 
 Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your 
 
 cointort? 
 The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ? 
 A woman lost a iiong ye, huigh'd at, scora'd ? 
 1 wilj not wish ye half my miseries, 
 1 liave more cliarity: But say, I warn'd je ; 
 Tiikf heed: fur heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once 
 'J"ln' hiiiden of ray sorrows fall upon ye. 
 
 Wol. iMadani, this is a mere distraction ; 
 Von tirn the gto;! we otfer into envy. 
 
 Q. Kailu Ye turn me into nothing : Woe upon ye, 
 .■\n(l all such false professors! Would ye have me 
 (11 you have any justice, any pity; 
 If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) 
 I'lit my sick cause into his hands, that hates me? 
 .\las I he has banisli'd me his bed already ; 
 His love, too long agp : I am old, my lords, 
 And all the fellowship, I hold now with him. 
 Is only my oliedience. VVhat can happen 
 To me above tliii wretchedness? all your studies 
 Make me a curse like this 
 Cam. Your fears are worse. 
 
 Q. Kalh. Have I liv'd thus long — (let me speak 
 Jiiyself, 
 Since virtue finds no friends,) — a wife, a true one ? 
 A woiniin, (I dare say, without vainglory,) 
 Never yet branded with suspicion '? 
 Haxe I with all my full affections [him ? 
 
 Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd 
 Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? 
 Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? 
 And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well, lords. 
 Bring nie a constant woman to her husband ; 
 One, that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ; 
 And to that woman, when she has done most. 
 Yet will 1 add an honour, — a great patience. 
 
 Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we aim 
 at. fguilty, 
 
 Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so 
 To giv e up willingly that noble title, 
 Your master wed me to : nothing but death 
 Shall e'er divorce ray dignities. 
 
 Wol. 'Pray, hear me. 
 
 Q. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English 
 earth. 
 Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! 
 Ye have angels' faces, but lieaven knows your hearts. 
 W^hat will become of me now, wretched lady? 
 lara the most unhappy woman living'. — 
 
 Alas ! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes? 
 
 {To her Women. 
 Sliipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, 
 No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me, 
 Almost, no gra\e allow'd me : — Like the lily. 
 That once was mistress of the field, and tlourish'd, 
 I'll hang my head, and perish. 
 
 Wol. If your grace 
 
 Could but be brought to know, our ends art- honest, 
 You'd feel more comfort : why should we, good lady, 
 Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas ! our places, 
 The way of our profession is against it: 
 We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. 
 For goodness' sake, consider wliat you do: 
 How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly 
 Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. 
 The hearts of princes kiss obedience. 
 So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits. 
 They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 
 I know, you have a gentle, noble temper, 
 A soul as even as a calm ; Pray, think us 
 Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser- 
 vants, [virtues 
 
 Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your 
 With this weak women's fears. A noble spirit. 
 As yours was put into you, ever casts [you ; 
 
 Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves 
 Beware, you lose it not : For us, if yoti please 
 To trust ns in your business, we are ready 
 To use our utmost studies in your service. 
 
 Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords: And, prajT; 
 forgive me, 
 If I have us'd myself unmannerly ; 
 You know, I am a woman, lacking wit 
 'J'o make a seemly answ er to such persons. 
 Pray, do my service to his m.-yesty: 
 He lias my heart yet; and shall have my prayers. 
 While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, 
 Bestow your counsels on me : she now begs, 
 That little thought, when she set footing here. 
 She should lia\e bought her dignities so dear. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A>i(e-chamber to the Kitty's 
 Apartment. 
 
 Enter the Duke ofNoRFOLK, the Duke of Hvffolk, 
 the Earl of SvRKEY, and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints, 
 And force them with a constancy, the cardinal 
 Ca;inot stand under them : If you omit 
 The offer of this time, I cannot promise. 
 But that you shall sustain more new disgraces. 
 With these you bear already. 
 
 Sur. I am joyful 
 
 To meet the least occasion, that may give me 
 Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke. 
 To be reveng'd on him. 
 
 Suf. Which of the peers 
 
 Have uncontemii'd gone by him, or at least 
 Strangely neglected ? when did he regard 
 The stamp of nobleness in any person. 
 Out of himself? 
 
 Cham. ' IMy lords, you speak your pleasures; 
 What he deserve of you and me, I know; 
 What we can do to him, (though now the time 
 Gives way to ns,) i much fear. If you cannot 
 Bar his access to the king, never attempt 
 Any thing on him ; for he Lath a witchcraft 
 Over the king in his tongue. 
 
 Nor. O, fear him not; 
 
 His spell in that is out : the king hatii found 
 Matter against him, that for ever mars 
 The honey of his language. No, he's setthd, 
 Not to come off, in his di.-pleasure. 
 
 Sur. Sir. 
 
 I should be glad to hear such news as this 
 Once every hour. 
 
 Nor. Believe it, thi.s is tru^. 
 
 In the divorce, his contrary proceedings 
 Are all unfolded; wherein he appears. 
 
502 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 'Act III. 
 
 As I could wish mine enemy. 
 
 Sur. How came 
 
 His practices to light ? 
 
 Suf. Most strangely. 
 
 Sur. O, how, how ? 
 
 Sufi The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, 
 And came to the eye o'(he king : wherein was read, 
 How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
 To stay the judgment o'the divorce : For if 
 It did take place, I do, qwih he, perceive, 
 My king is tangled in affection to 
 A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen. 
 
 Sur. Has the king tliis? 
 
 Suf. Believe it. 
 
 Sur. Will this work ? 
 
 Cham. The king in this perceives him, how he 
 coasts. 
 All his tricks founder, and he brings his [jliysic 
 And hedges, his own way. But in tliis point 
 After his patient's death : the king already 
 Hath married the fair lady. 
 
 Snr. 'Would he had ! 
 
 Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord ! 
 For, 1 profess, you have it. 
 
 Sur. Now all my joy 
 
 Trace the conjunction ! 
 
 Suf My amen to't ! 
 
 jVi,;- All men's. 
 
 Suf. There's order given for her coronation : 
 Marry, this is yet but young, and may be lelt 
 To some ears luirecounted. — But, my lords. 
 She is a gallant creature, and complete 
 In mind and feature : 1 persuade me, from her 
 Will f»ll some blessing to this land, which shall 
 In it be nieinoriz'd 
 
 Sur. But, will the king 
 
 Diijest this letter of the cardinal's ? 
 The lord forbid ! 
 
 Nor. Marry, amen ! 
 
 Suf. No, no; 
 
 riiere be more wasps, that buz about his nose. 
 Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius 
 [s stolen away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ; 
 Has left the cause o'the king uuhandled ; and 
 Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, 
 To second all his plot. I do assure you, 
 The king cry'd, ha ! at this. 
 
 Cham. Now, God incense lum, 
 
 And let him cry ha, louder ! 
 
 Nor. But, my lord. 
 
 When returns Cranmer? 
 
 Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions; which 
 Have satisfied the king for his divorce. 
 Together with all famous colleges 
 Almost in Christendom : shortly, I believe. 
 His second marriage shall be publish'd, and 
 Her coronation. Katharine no more 
 Shall be calld queen ; but princess dowager. 
 And widow to prince Arthur. 
 
 Nor. This same Cranmer s 
 
 A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much paiu 
 In the king's business. 
 
 Suf. He has ; and we shall see hm» 
 
 For it an archbishop. 
 
 Nor. So I hear. 
 
 Suf 'Tis so. 
 
 The cardinal — 
 
 Enter Wolsey aiid Cromwell. 
 
 Nor. Observe, observe, he's moody. 
 
 Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave you the king? 
 
 Croin. 'I'o his own hand, in his bedchamber. 
 
 Wol. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper? 
 
 Crom. Presently 
 
 He did unseal them : and the first he view'd. 
 He did it with a serious mind ; a heed 
 Was in his countenance : You, he bade 
 Attend him here this morning. 
 
 Wol. Is he ready 
 
 To come abroad ? 
 
 from. I think, by this he is. 
 
 Wol. Leave me a while.— \Exit Cromwell 
 
 It shall be to the duchess of Alengon, 
 The French king's sister ; he shall marry her. — 
 Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Builens for liim: 
 There is more in it than fair vis.ige. — Bullen ! 
 No, we'll no Builens. — Speedily I wish (liroke I 
 
 To hear from Rome. — The marchioness (jf Pem- 
 
 Nor. He's discontented. 
 
 Suf. May be, he he;irs tiie king 
 
 Does whet his anger to him. 
 
 Sur. Sharp enough. 
 
 Lord, for thy justice ! [diiughter, 
 
 Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's 
 To be her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen I — 
 This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuifit; 
 Then, out it goes. — What though I know her*ivir. 
 
 tuous, 
 And well-deserving? yet I know her for 
 A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to 
 Our cause, that she should lie i'the bosom of 
 Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up 
 An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer ; one 
 Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king. 
 And is his oracle. 
 
 Nor. He is ves'd at something. 
 
 Suf. I would, 'twere something that would fret 
 The rnastercord of his heart ! [the string. 
 
 Enter the King, reading a schedule ; andLtO\ELii. 
 
 Suf. The king, the king. 
 
 K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he accumu- 
 lated 
 To his own portion I and what expense by the hour 
 Seems to How from him ? How, i'the uame of thrift. 
 Does he rake this together ? — Now, my lords ; 
 Saw you the cardinal? 
 
 Nor. My lord, we have 
 
 Stood here observing him : Some strange commotioD 
 Is in his brain : he bites his' lip, and starts; 
 Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground. 
 Then lays his finger on his temple; straight. 
 Springs out into last gait ; then, stops again. 
 Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts 
 His eye against the moon : in most strange posturea 
 We have seen him set himself. 
 
 K. Hen. It may well be ; 
 
 There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning 
 Papers of state he sent me to peruse, 
 As I requir'd ; And, wot yon, what I found 
 There ; on my conscien^'e, put unwittingly ? 
 Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing, — 
 The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, 
 Ricli stuffs, and ornaments of household ; which 
 I tind at such proud rate, that it out-speaks 
 Possession of a subject 
 
 Nor. It's heaven's will ; 
 
 Some spirit put this paper in the (lacket. 
 To bless your eye withal. 
 
 K. Hen. If we did think 
 
 His contemplation were above the earth. 
 And fix'd on spiritual object, he should stiW 
 Dwell in his musings : but, I am afraid. 
 His thinkings are below the moon, not worth 
 His serious considering. 
 
 [He taken his seat, and whispers- hovell, who 
 (joes to Wolsey.) 
 
 Wol. Heaven forgive me ! 
 
 Ever God bless your highness! 
 
 K. Hen. Good my lord. 
 
 You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory 
 Of your best graces in your mind ; the which 
 You were now running o'er ; you have scarce time 
 To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span, 
 To keep your earthly audit: Sure in that 
 I deem you an ill husband ; and am glad 
 To have you therein my companion. 
 
 Wol. . . Sir, 
 
 For holy offices I have a time ; a time 
 . To think upon the part of business, which 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VIIT. 
 
 503 
 
 ear i't'ie stil ; atid nature does require 
 Il<*r times o('|ir(-servation, which, pc-rtorte, 
 I, lier lictil son, aiiioiigst my brethren tnortul. 
 Must cive my tendance to. 
 
 K. Hen. Von have said well. 
 
 Wul. And e^er may your hij;hness yoke together, 
 As 1 will lend you cau.se, my doing well 
 W itii my wtll-saying ! > 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis well said again ; 
 
 And lis a kind of good deed, to say well: 
 And yX words are no deeds. My t'ather lov'd you ; 
 He said, he did; and with his deed did crown 
 ilis word upon you. Since I had my office, 
 i haie kept you next my heart; have not alone 
 Euijjloy'd you where liinh profits might come home, 
 But par"d my present havings, to be.stow 
 31y bounties upon you. 
 
 Wol. What should this mean ? 
 
 Sur. The Lord increase this business ! [Aside.) 
 
 K. Hen. Have I not m.ide you 
 
 The prime man of the slate ? I pray you, tell me, 
 \{ what 1 now pronounce, you have found true : 
 And if you may confess it, say withal, 
 If you are bound to us, or no. What say you ? 
 
 fJ'ol. My sovereign, 1 confess, your royal graces, 
 ShoweiVd on me daily, have been more than could 
 My studied pinposes requite ; which went 
 Beyond all men's endeavours; — my endeavours 
 Have ever come too short of my desires, 
 Yet Jil'd with n>y abilities : Mine own ends 
 Have been mine so, tliat evermore tiiey pointed 
 'Jo the good of your most sacred person, and 
 The profit of the state. For your great graces 
 Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I 
 Can nothing render but allegiaut thanks; 
 My prayers to heaven for you; my loyidty. 
 Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, 
 Till death, that winter, fill it. 
 
 K. Hen. Fairly answer'd ; 
 
 A loyal and obedient subject is 
 Therein ilhisdated: 'J'lie honour of it 
 Does pay the act of it ; as, i'the contrary. 
 The iouliiess is the punishment. 1 presume. 
 That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, 
 My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, 
 
 tiiure 
 On jou, Ihan any; so your hand, and heart, 
 Vour brain, and every fuuctio i of your power, 
 Shoiill, nutwithstaiidiiig that your bond of duty, 
 As 'twere in loie's particular, be more 
 To me, your friend, than any. 
 
 Wol. I do profess. 
 
 That ibr your highne.ss' good I ever labour'd 
 More than mine own ; that am, liav e, ami will be, 
 I'hoiigli all the world should ciack tlieir duty to \ou, 
 .4iid throw it from theii soul ; f'lougli penis did 
 Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and 
 Appear in lorms more horrid ; yet my duty, 
 As doth a rock against the chiding tiood. 
 Should the approach of this wild river break. 
 And stand unshaken yours. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis nobly %poken: 
 
 Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, 
 For you have seen him opeu't. — Read o'er this ; 
 
 [Givinij Idm jiapers.) 
 And, after, this : and then to breakfast, witn 
 VVhat appetite you have. 
 
 \_Exit Kiny.j'rotvning upon Cardinal Wolsey : 
 the Nobles throng after him, si/iiUn<j, and 
 whispering. 
 
 Wol. What should this mean ? 
 
 What sudden anger's this? how have 1 reap'd it'/ 
 He parted irowmng from me. as i( ruin 
 Leap'd Iron his eyes: So looks the dialed lion 
 Upon tlie daring huntsman, that has gali d him; 
 Tiieu makes him iictliing. I mist read this paper; 
 I fear, liic story of his anger. — 'lis so: 
 'J'liis paiJtr has undone me : — 'Tis the account 
 Of all that v.'orld of wealth 1 have drawn together 
 For mine own ends; indeed, ^o gain the popedom. 
 
 And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence. 
 
 Fit tor a tool to tall by ! What cross devil 
 
 ftlade me put this main secretin the packet 
 
 1 sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this? 
 
 No new device to beat this from his brains? 
 
 1 know, 'twill stir him strongly ; Yet I know 
 
 A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune 
 
 Will bring me oti'ngain. What's this — To the Pope ■ 
 
 The letter, as I live, with all the business 
 
 I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! 
 
 I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness , 
 
 And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
 
 I haste noy/ to my setting : I shall fall 
 
 Like a bright eshalation in the evening, 
 
 And no man see me more. 
 
 Re-enter the Dukes o/ Norfolk aw r/ Suffolk, /Ac 
 Earl o/Slrrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Nor, Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal ; who 
 commands you 
 To render up the great seal presently 
 Lito our hands; and to confine yourself 
 'I'o Asher-house, my lord of Winchester's, 
 Till you hear furtiier from hi.^ highness. 
 
 Wol. Stay, 
 
 Where's your commission, lords? words cannot 
 Authority so weighty. (carry 
 
 Suf. Who dare c-oss them ? 
 
 Bearing the king's will from his moi.th expressly ? 
 
 Wol. Till 1 find more tiian will, or words, to do it, 
 (\ mean, your malice,) knew, ollicious lords, 
 I dare, and must deny it. Nt)w I leel 
 Of what coarse metal ye are moulded. — envy. 
 How eagerly ye follow uiy disgraces. 
 As if it fed ye! and how .sleek and wanton 
 Ye appear in every thi;;i; may bring my ruin ! 
 Follow your envious courses, men ot nialice ; 
 You have christian warrant tor them, and, no doubt. 
 In time will find their fit reu ards. That seal. 
 You ask with such a violence, the king, 
 (Mine, and your master,) with iiisowu hand i;a\e me , 
 liade me enjoy it, with the place and honours. 
 During my life ; and, to cotifir.n his goodness. 
 Tied it by lettersj'atents : Now, who'll take it ? 
 
 Sur. The king, that gave it. 
 
 Wol. It must be himself then. 
 
 Sur. Tho'i art a proud traitor, priest. 
 
 Wol. Proud lord, lliouliest; 
 
 Within these forty hours Surrey durst better 
 Have burnt that tongue, than said .so. 
 
 Sur. Thy ambition. 
 
 Thou scarlet sin, rolib'd this bewailing land 
 Of noble liuckingliam, my lather in-law : 
 The heads of all thy brother cardinals, 
 (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,) 
 Weigh'd nut a hair of his. Flngiie of your jiolicy ! 
 You sent me deputy for Ireland ; 
 Far from his succour, from the king, from all, 
 That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him • 
 Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, 
 Absolv'd him with an axe. 
 
 Wol. This, and all else 
 
 This talking lord can lay upon mv credit, 
 I answer, is most false. The duke by law 
 Found his deserts : how innocent I was 
 From any private malice in his end, 
 His noble jury and foul cause can witness, 
 if I lovd many words, lord, I should tell you. 
 You have as little honesty as honour; 
 That I, in the way of loyalty and truth 
 I'oward tlie king, my ever loyal muster, 
 D ire mate a sounder man than Surrey can be. 
 And all that love his follies. 
 
 Sur. By my soul. 
 
 Your Ions coat, prifst, protects you; then shoula'al 
 
 feel 
 ATy sword i'the life blood of tliee else, — My lordi, 
 Cmi ye endure to h-arthis arrogance? 
 .\nd from tiiis tellow? If we live thus tamely, 
 To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet. 
 
504 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act IIT. 
 
 Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forward, 
 And dare us with his cap, like larks. 
 
 Wol. All gooduess 
 
 Is ])oisan to thy stomach. 
 
 Sur. Yes, that goodness 
 
 Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, 
 Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion: 
 The goodness of your intercepted packets, 
 Vou writ to the pope, agaiusl the king : your good- 
 ness. 
 Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. — 
 My lord of Norfolk, — as you are truly noble. 
 As yon respect the common good, the state 
 Of our des[)is'd nobility, our issues, 
 Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, — 
 Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles 
 Collected from his life : I'll startle you 
 Worse tlian the sacring bell, when the brown wench 
 ijay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal. 
 
 /f^ol. How much, methink.s, I could despise this 
 man. 
 But that I am bound in charity against it ! 
 
 Mir.Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand : 
 Hut. thus much, they are foul ones. 
 
 Wol, So much fairer. 
 
 And spotless, shall mine innocence arise, 
 When the king knows my truth. 
 
 Sur. This cannot save you : 
 
 I thank my memory, I yet remember 
 Some of these articles; and out they shall. 
 Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal. 
 You'll shew a little honesty. 
 
 [Vol. Speak on, sir ; 
 
 I dare your worst objections : if I blush. 
 It is, to see a nobleman want manners. 
 
 Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. 
 Have at you. 
 Firsf, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge, 
 You wrought to be a legate ; by which power 
 Yoii Mi.iini'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. 
 
 Nor. Tjien, that, in all you write to lloine , or else 
 To fureign princes, Ego el Rex mens 
 Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought tlie king 
 To be your servant. 
 
 Suf. Then, that, without the knowledge 
 
 Either of king or council, when you went 
 Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold 
 To carry into Flanders the great seal. 
 
 Sur. Item, yoti sent a large commission 
 To Greijory de Cassalis, to conclude 
 Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, 
 A league between his highness and Ferrara. 
 
 Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd 
 Your lioly hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. 
 Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub- 
 stance, (ence,) 
 (By what means got, I leave to your own consci- 
 To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways 
 Vou liave for dignities ; to the mere undoing 
 Of all the kingdom. Many more there are ; 
 Wl;ich, since they are of you, and odious, 
 I will nut taint my mouth with. 
 
 C'/irim. O my lord, 
 
 Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue : 
 His faults lie open to the laws ; let them. 
 Not ynu, correct them. My heart weeps to see him 
 So bttle of his great self. 
 
 Sur. I forgive him. 
 
 Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is, — 
 Bec^iuse all those things, you have done of late 
 Hy your power legatine within this kingdom, 
 Piill into tlie compass of a prosmunire,— 
 Tliat therefore such a writ be sued against you ; 
 To forleit all your goods, lands, tenements, 
 Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be 
 Out <)1 the ki'ig's protection : — This is my charge. 
 
 Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations 
 Hon- to live better. For your stubborn answer, 
 About the giving back the great .seal to us, [vou. 
 I'iie kuiu sliali know it, and no doubt, shall tliank 
 
 So fare you well, my little good lord cardirinl. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Wolsey. 
 Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear mc. 
 Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatne.ss ! 
 This is the state of man ; to-day he puts torth 
 The tender leaves of hope, to morrow blossoms. 
 And bears his blushing honours thick ujion him : 
 The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
 And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root. 
 And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. 
 This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
 But far beyond my depth : mv high-blown pride 
 At length broke under nie; and now has left me. 
 Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
 Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. 
 Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; 
 I feel my heart new opened : O, how wretched 
 Is that poor man, that hangs on prinees' fax ours ? 
 Tiiere is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
 Tiiat sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
 More pangs and fears than wars or women havej 
 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
 Never to hope again. — 
 
 Enter Cromwell, amazedly. 
 
 Why, how now, CroinweH? 
 
 Crom. I have no power to speak, sir, 
 
 Wol. What, amaz'cJ 
 
 At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, 
 A great man should decline ? Nay, an you weep, 
 I aui t'allen indeed. 
 
 Crom. How does your grace ? 
 
 Wol. Why, well ; 
 
 Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
 I know myself now; and I feel within me 
 -\ peace above all earthly dignities, 
 -A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, 
 I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders. 
 These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken 
 A load would sink a navy, too much honour : 
 O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden. 
 Too heavy lor a man that hopes for heaven. 
 
 Crom. 1 am glad, your grace has made that right 
 use o/'it. 
 
 fl'ol. I hope, I have : I am able now, methinks, 
 (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel.) 
 To endure more miseries, and greater far, 
 Than my weak-hearted enemies dare oifer. 
 What news abroad? 
 
 Crom. The heaviest, and the worst. 
 
 Is your displeasure with the king. 
 
 tVol. God bless him ? 
 
 Crotn. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen 
 Lord chancellor in your place. 
 
 Wol. That's somewhat sudden : 
 
 But he's a learned man. May he continue 
 Long in his highness' favour, and do justice 
 For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his bones. 
 When he has ruu his course, and slee])s in blessings, 
 May have a (onib of orphans' tears wept on 'em ! 
 VVhat more ? 
 
 Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with \\elcorae, 
 Install'd lord archbiuhop of Canterbury; 
 
 Wol. That's news indeed. 
 
 Crom. Last, that the lady Anne, 
 
 Whom the king hath in secrecy long married. 
 This day was view'd in open, as his queen, 
 Going to chapel ; and (he voice is now 
 Only about her coronation. 
 
 \Vol. There was the weight that pull'd me ilowo, 
 O Cromwell, 
 The king has gone beyond me, all my glories 
 In that one woman I have lost I'or ever ; 
 No sun shall ever usher forth mine hon mrs. 
 Or gild iigain the noble troops, that waited 
 Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, tlroiuwell; 
 I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
 To be t!iy lor.l and master ; Seek the king; 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII 
 
 505 
 
 riiat sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told him 
 Wliat, and how irne Uioii art : he will advance thee ; 
 Some little memory of me will stir him; 
 
 {I know his noble nature,) not to let 
 
 Thy hopeful service perish too : Gooa \jromw< 
 
 Neglect him not; make nse now, and provide 
 
 Crom. O my lord, 
 
 Must 1 then leave yon ? mnst I needs forego 
 So good, so nohle, and so true a master ? 
 Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
 VVitli what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. — 
 'I'he kin.n shall lia\e my service ; but my prayers, 
 Forever, and for e\er, shall be yours. 
 
 Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
 In ail my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me. 
 Out of 'liy honest truth, to ])lay the woman. 
 Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; 
 And, — when I am forgotten, as 1 shall be ; 
 And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
 Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee, 
 Say, Wolsey, — that once trod tlie ways of glory. 
 And siiunded all the depths and shoals ol honour, — 
 Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
 A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
 Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 
 Crouuvell, 1 charge thee, fling away ambition; 
 By tiiat sin fell the angels, how can man then. 
 The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ? 
 Love tuyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee; 
 Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
 Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
 To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : 
 Let all the ends, thou aim'st atj be thy country's, 
 riiy Gods, and (ruth's ; then il thou fall'st, OCrom- 
 Thoii fall st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; [well. 
 And, — Fr ythee, lead me in : 
 Tliere take an inventory of all I have, 
 To the last (lenny ; 'tis the king's : my robe 
 And my integrity to heaven, is all 
 1 dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwe.li, 
 Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
 I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age 
 Have leit nie naked to mine enemies. 
 
 Crom. Good sir, have patience. 
 
 Wol. So I have. Farewell 
 
 The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Street in Westminster. 
 Enter two Gentlemen, mefiing. 
 
 1 Gent. You are well met once again. 
 
 2 Gent. And so are you. 
 1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and 
 
 behold 
 
 The lady Aiine pass from her coronation? 
 
 '2 Ge?it. 'Tis all my business. At our last en- 
 counter, 
 
 The duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis very true : but that time olFer'd 
 This, general joy. [sorrow ; 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis well : The citizens, 
 
 I am sure, have shewn at full their royal minds ; 
 As, lettliein hive their rights, they are ever forward 
 In celebration of this day, with shews. 
 Pageants, and sights of honour. 
 
 1 Gent. Never greater. 
 Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. 
 
 2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that contains, 
 That ti'M'T in your hand ? 
 
 1 Gent Yes ; 'tis the list 
 Of those, that claim their othces this day, 
 By custom ol the coronation. 
 
 The duke of Suffolk is the tirst, and claims 
 
 To be higli steward; next, the duke of Norfolk, 
 
 He to hv earl marshal; you may rrad the rest. 
 
 2 Getit. 1 thank you, sir: had I not known those 
 
 customs, 
 
 I should have been beholden to your paper. 
 But, I bi'seecli you, what's become of ICatliarine, 
 The j)riticess dowager :" how goes her business? 
 
 1 Gent. Th:it I can tell you too. The archbishop 
 Ol Cai.lerbiiry, accompanied with other 
 Learned and reverend fathers of his order. 
 
 Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles ofT 
 From Ampfhill, where the princess lay ; 1 1 which 
 She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not: 
 And, to be short, for not appearance, and 
 'I'he king's late scruple, by the main assent 
 01 all these learned men she was divorc'd, 
 And the late marriage made of none ellVct . 
 Since wliirh, she was removed to Kimbolton, 
 VVliere she remains now sick. 
 
 2 Ge7it. Alas, good lady ! — [Tntmpett.') 
 The trumpets sound : stand close, the queen is 
 
 coining, 
 
 THE ORDER OF TIIE PROCESSION. 
 
 A lively flourish of trumpets ; then, enter, — 
 L Two JiiUrjes. [before him. 
 
 2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace 
 
 3. Choristers sinfjintj. [Music.) 
 
 4. Mayor of London heariiKj the mace. Then 
 
 Garter, in his coat of arms, and 07i his 
 head, a 'jilt copper crown. 
 
 5l Marquis Dorset, hearing a sceptre of gold, on 
 his head a. demi-coronal of gold. With 
 him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod 
 of silver tvith the dove, crowned with an 
 earl's coronet. Collars of SS. 
 
 G. Did'e of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet 
 on his head, bearing a long white wand, 
 as high-steward. With him. the Duke 
 of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, 
 a coronet on his head. Collars ofSS. 
 
 7. A canopy borne bij four of the Cinque-ports ; 
 
 under it, the Queen in her robe ; in her 
 hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. 
 On each side of her, the Bishops of Lon- 
 don and Winchester. 
 
 8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of 
 
 gold, wrought tvith flowers, bearing the 
 Queen's train. 
 
 9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain cir- 
 
 clets of gold without floivers. 
 2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — These 1 
 know ; — 
 Who's that, that bears the sceptre ? 
 
 1 Gent. Marquis Dorset : 
 And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 
 
 2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman : And (hat 
 
 should be 
 The duke of Sullolk. 
 
 1 Gent. 'Tis the same ; higb-steward, 
 
 2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes. 
 
 2 Gent. Heaven bless thee ! 
 
 {Looking on the Quet^n.) 
 Thou hast the sweetest face 1 ever look'd on. — 
 Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel ; 
 Our king has all the Indies in his arms. 
 And more, and richer, when he strains that lady : 
 I cannot blame his conscience. 
 
 1 Gent. They, that bear 
 The cloth of lionour over her, are four barons 
 
 Ol (he Cinque-por(s. 
 
 2 Gent. Those men ar«i happy; and so are all, are 
 
 near her. 
 r (ake it, she that carries up the train, 
 Is tliat old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk, 
 
 1 Gent. It is ; and all the rest are countesses. 
 
 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars, 
 
 indeed ; 
 And. sometimes, falling ones. 
 
 1 Gent, No more of that. 
 
 \Exd Procession, tvith a great flourish oj 
 trumpets. 
 
506 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 God save you, sir? Where have you been broil- 
 
 ing.' 
 
 [a finijer 
 
 3 Gent. Amonar the crowd i'the abbey; where 
 Could not be wedg'd in more ; and I am stifled 
 With the mere raukness ol' their joy. 
 
 2 Gent. Vou s;iw 
 The ceretiiony ? 
 
 3 Gent. That I did. 
 
 1 Gejit. How was it? 
 3 Gent. Well worth the seeing;. 
 
 2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us. 
 
 3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream 
 Of lords, and hidies, haviuR broiipht the queen 
 
 'J'o a prepared place in tl.e choir, jell oft" 
 
 A distance fmni her, while her grace sat down 
 
 To rest a while, some half" an hour, or so. 
 
 In a rich chair of state, opposing freely 
 
 The beauty of her person to the people. 
 
 Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman. 
 
 That ever lay by man: which when the people 
 
 Had the full view of, such a noise arose 
 
 As the shrouds make at sea in a stilf tempest, 
 
 As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks, 
 
 (Doublets, I think,) flew up; and had their faces 
 
 Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy 
 
 I never saw before. Great-bellied women, 
 
 That had not half a week to go, like rams 
 
 In the old time of war, would shake the press, 
 
 And make them reel before them. No man living 
 
 Could say, T/iis is mij tvife, there ; all were woven 
 
 So strangely in one piece. 
 
 2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd''' 
 
 3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with mo- 
 
 dest paces 
 Came to the altar ; where slie kneel'd, and, saint-like. 
 Cast hf r fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. 
 Then rdse nRaiii, and bow'd her to the people : 
 When by the archbishop of Canterbury 
 She had "all the royal makings of a queen; 
 As holy oil, Edward Coufes-or's crown. 
 The rod, and biid (i|"peace, and all such emblems 
 Laid nobly on her : wliich perform'd, the choir. 
 With all t'he choicest music of the kingdom, 
 Together sung Te Deian. So she parted, 
 And with the same lull state pac'd back again 
 • To Yoik-place, where the feast is held. 
 
 1 Gent. Sir, you 
 Musi no more call it York place, that is post : 
 For, since the cardinal <ell, that title's lost; 
 
 'Tis now the king's, and call'd — Whitehall. 
 
 3 Gent. I know it; 
 
 But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name 
 fs fresh : bnut me. 
 
 2 Gent. What two reverend bishops 
 Were those, that went on each side of the queen ? 
 
 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner ; the one, of 
 
 Winchester, 
 (Newly iireferr'd from the king's secretary,) 
 The other, Loudon. 
 
 2 Gent. He of Winchester 
 
 Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's. 
 The virtuous Crannier. 
 
 'i Gent. All the land knows that: 
 
 However, yet there's no great breach; when it 
 
 comes, 
 Cranuier will tind a friend will not shrink frora him. 
 
 2 Gent. Who may that be, 1 pray you ? 
 
 3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell; 
 .\ man in ruucli esteem with the king, and truly 
 
 A worthy friend. — The king 
 
 Has made him master o'the jewel-house. 
 
 And one, already, of the privy-council. 
 
 2 Gent. He will deserve more. 
 
 8 Gent. Yes, without all doubt 
 
 Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which 
 Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests ; 
 Something ! can command. As 1 walk thither, 
 I'll tell ye more. 
 
 Bot/i. You may c'.mmand us, sir. Exeunt 
 
 Scene II — Kiniholton. 
 
 Etiter Katharine, douayer, sick-; led between 
 Griffith and Patience. 
 
 Grif. How does your grace? 
 
 Kat/i. b, Grilhth. sick to death 
 
 My legs, like loaden branches, bow t'l the earth, 
 Wdling to leave their burden : Reach a chair; — 
 So, — now, methinks, I feel a little ease. 
 Didst thou not tell me, Grillith, as thou led'st me. 
 That the great child ot honour, cardinal Wulsey, 
 VVas dead ? 
 
 Grif. Yes, madam ; but, 1 think, your grace. 
 
 Out of the pain you sufler'd, gave no ear to't. 
 
 Katk. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he 
 died : 
 If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, 
 Fur my example. 
 
 Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : 
 
 For after the stout earl Northumberland 
 A nested him at York, and brought him forward 
 (As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer, 
 He i'ell sick suddenly, and grew so ill, 
 He could not sit his mule. 
 
 Katk. _ Alas, poor man ! 
 
 Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Lei 
 cester, 
 Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot. 
 With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; 
 To whom he gave these words, — father abbot, 
 An old man, broken ivith the storms of state. 
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
 Give him a little earth fur charity I 
 So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 
 Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this, 
 About the hour of eight, (which he hituself 
 Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance, 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
 He gave his honours to the world again, 
 His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 
 
 Katk. So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him 
 Yet thus far, Griffith, give me lea\e to speak him. 
 And yet with charity, — He was a man 
 or an unbounded stomach, ever ranking 
 Himself with princes ; one, that by snggestion, 
 Ty'd all the kingdom : simony was fair play ; 
 His own o|.inion was his law : I'the presence 
 He would sijy untruths; and be ever dmible. 
 Both in his words and meaning: He was never, 
 But where he meant to ruin, pitiful ; 
 His nromi.ses v\ere, as he then was, mighty; 
 But his performance, as he is now, nothing. 
 Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
 The clergy ill example. 
 
 Grif. Noble madam, 
 
 Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
 We write in water. May it please your highness 
 To hear me speak his good now ? 
 
 Kath. Yes, good GrifiBth, 
 
 I were malicious else. 
 
 Grif. This cardinal. 
 
 Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
 Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
 Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and |)ersuadiug : 
 Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; 
 But to those men that sought him, sweet as summei. 
 And thoiigh he were unsatisfied in getting, 
 (Which was a sin.) yet in bestowing, madain, 
 He was most princely : Ever witness for hnu 
 Those twins of learning, that lit rais'd in vou, 
 Ipswich, and Oxford! one of which fell with him. 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; 
 The other, though untini.vh'd, yet so famous. 
 So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
 His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; 
 For then, and not till then, he felt himself. 
 And found the blessedues* of being little • 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 507 
 
 And, to add greater honours to his age 
 
 'I'hjui man rould give him, he died, (earing God. 
 
 Kat/t. After my death I wish no other herald. 
 No other sjjeakerof my living actions. 
 To keep mine honour irom corruption. 
 But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
 Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, 
 With tliy religious truth, and modesty. 
 Now in his ashes honour : Peace be with him ! — 
 Patience, be near me still ; and set rae lower : 
 1 have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith, 
 Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
 1 naui'd my knell, whilst 1 sit meditating 
 On that celestial harmony I go to. 
 
 Sad and solemn music. [quiet, 
 
 Grif. She is asleep : Good wench, let's sit down 
 For fear we wake her; — Softly, gentle Patience. 
 
 The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping oni> after 
 another, six Personayes, clad in ivhitt robes, 
 wearing on their heads garlands of hays, and 
 
 f olden vizards on their faces ; bratiches of 
 ays, or palm, in their hands. They first congee 
 U7ito her, then dance ; and, at certain changes, 
 the first two hold a spare garland over her 
 head; at which, the other four mahe reverend 
 curt'sies; then the two, that held the garla7td, 
 ' deliver the same to the other next two, who ob- 
 serve the same order in their changes, and 
 holding the garland over her head; which 
 done, they deliver the same garland to the last 
 two, who liketvise observe the same order : at 
 ' which, ( as it were by inspiration,) she makes 
 in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up 
 her hands to heaven : and so in their dancing 
 they vanish, carrying the garland with them. 
 The music continues. 
 
 Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye ? Are ye 
 all gone V 
 And leave me here in wretclieduess behind ye? 
 
 Grif. Madam, we are iiere. 
 
 Kath. It is not you I call for : 
 
 Saw ye none enter, since I slept? 
 
 Grif. None, madam. 
 
 Kath. No ? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop 
 Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces 
 Cast thousand beams ii|ion me, like the sun? 
 They promised me eternal happiness; 
 And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel 
 I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall. 
 Assuredly. 
 
 Grif. 1 am most joyful, madam, such good dreams 
 Possess your fancy. 
 
 Kath. Bid the music leave, 
 
 They are harsh and heavy to me. {Music ceases.) 
 
 Pat. Do you note. 
 
 How much her grace is alterd on the sudden ? 
 How long her face is drawn ? How pale slie looks. 
 And of an earthly cold ? Mark you her eyes ? 
 
 Grif. She is going, wench ; pray, pray. 
 
 Pat. Heaven comfort her ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. An't like your grace, — 
 
 Kath. You are a saucy fellow : 
 
 Deserve we no more reverence ? 
 
 Grif. You are to blame, 
 
 Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness. 
 To Use so rude behaviour : go to, kneel. 
 
 Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon ; 
 My haste made me unmannerly : There is staying 
 A geMtleman. sent from the king, to see yon. 
 
 Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : But this fellow 
 Let me ne'er see araiu. 
 
 \Exeu7it Griffith and Messenger. 
 
 Re-enter Griffith, tvith Capi;cils. 
 
 If my sight fail not, 
 . You should be lord ambassador from the emperor. 
 My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. 
 
 Cap. Madam, the same, your senant. 
 
 Kath. o my lord, 
 
 liie times, and titles, now are altei'd strangely 
 With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray yoo 
 What is your pleasure with me '. 
 
 pap- . Noble lady, 
 
 First, mine own service to your grace ; the ne.'it 
 The king's request, that I would visit yon ; 
 Who grieve.s much for your weakness, and by me 
 Sends you his princely commendations. 
 And heartily entreats you take good comfort. 
 
 Kath. O my good lord, that comfort comes to 
 late ; 
 'Tis like a pardon after execution : 
 That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me ; 
 But now I ani oast all comforts here, but prayers. 
 How does his highness ? 
 
 Cap. ^ Madam, in good healtli 
 
 Kath, So may he ever do ! and ever flourish. 
 When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name 
 Banish'd the kingdom ! — Patience, is tiiat letter, 
 I causd yon write, yet sent away ? 
 
 Pat. No, madam. 
 
 [Giving it to Katharine.) 
 
 Kath. Sir, I njost humbly pray you to deli\ er 
 This to my lord the king. 
 
 Caj). ^ Most willing, madam. 
 
 Kath. In which I have commended to his good- 
 ness 
 The model ofourchaste loves, his yonng daughter : — 
 The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her i — 
 Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; 
 (She is young, and of a noble modest natnre : 
 I hope, she will deserve well) ; and a little 
 To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, 
 Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition 
 Is, that his noble grace would have some pity 
 Upon niy wretched women, that so long 
 Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully : 
 Of which there is n(>t one, I dare avow. 
 (And now I should not lie,) but will deserve, 
 For virtue, and true beauty o) the soul. 
 For honesty, and decent larriage, 
 A right good husband, let him be noble ; 
 And, sure, those men are happy, that shall have them 
 'J'he last is, for my men ; — they are the poorest. 
 But poverty could never draw them fioni me; — 
 That they may have their wages duly paid them, 
 .And something over to lemtniber nit- by: 
 If hj^axen had pleas'd to have given me longer life. 
 And able means, we had not parted thus. 
 These are the whole contents: — And, good my lord, 
 By that jou love the dearest in this world, 
 As you wish christian peace the souls departed. 
 Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king 
 To do me this last right. 
 
 Cap. By heaven, I will ; 
 
 Or let me lose the fashion of a man ! 
 
 Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Keraember me 
 In all humility unto his hi^liness: 
 Say, his long trouble now is passing 
 Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless'd him. 
 For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell, 
 My loril. — Griffith, farevvi II. — Nay, Patience, 
 You must not leave me vet. I must to bed ; 
 Call in more won;en. — When lam dead, good wi nch 
 Let me be ns'd with honour; st>ew me over 
 With maiden flowers, that ail the world may know 
 I was a chastf- wife to my grave : embalm me. 
 Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet like 
 A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. 
 I can no moie. [Exeunt, leading Katharine. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene \. — A Gallery in the Palace. 
 Enter Gardiner, B/a-Ao/j oy Winchester, a Page 
 with a torch before him, met by Sir Tho.Mas 
 
 LoVELL. 
 
 Gar. Ifsune o'clock, hoy, is't not? 
 
508 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Boy. It lialh struck. 
 
 Gar, These should be hours for necessities. 
 Not tor delights ; times to repair our nature 
 With comforting repose, and not for us 
 lo waste these times. — Good hour of night, sir 
 
 Thomas ! 
 Whither so Uite ? 
 
 Lov. Came you from the king, my lord ? 
 
 Gar. I did, sir Thomas ; and left him at primero 
 With the duke of Suftblk. 
 
 Lov. I must to him too, 
 
 Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. 
 
 Gar. Not yet, sir Tiiomas Love!!. What's the 
 matter ? 
 It seems, you are in haste ; an if there be 
 No great otfence belongs to"t, give your friend 
 Some touch of your late business : Affairs, that walk 
 
 iAs, they say, spirits do) at midnight, have 
 n them a wdder nature, than the business 
 Tiiat seeks despatcli by day. 
 
 Lov. My lord, I love you ; 
 
 And durst commend a secret to your ear 
 Much weightier than this work. The queen's in 
 
 labour, 
 They say, in great extremity ; and fear'd, 
 She'll with the labour end. 
 
 Gar. The fruit, she goes with, 
 
 I pray for heartily; that it may find 
 Clood time, and live : but tor the stock, sir Thomas, 
 I wish it grubb'd up now. 
 
 Lou. Methinks, I could 
 
 Cry thee amen ; and yet my conscience says 
 She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does 
 Oeserve our better wishes. 
 
 Gar. But, sir, sir, — 
 
 Hear me, sir Thomas : You are a gentleman 
 Of my own way ; I know you wise, religious ; 
 And, letnie tell you, it will ne'er be well, — 
 'Twill not, sir Thoiaas Lovell, take't of me, — 
 Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she. 
 Sleep in their graves. 
 
 Lov. Now, sir, ye speak of two 
 
 'i'lie most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Crom- 
 well, — 
 Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master 
 O'the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir. 
 Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, 
 VVith wliicli the time will load him : The arch- 
 bishop 
 Is the king's hand, and tongue ; And who dare speak 
 One syllable against him i" 
 
 Gar. Yes, yes, sir Thomas, 
 
 There are, that dare ; and I myself have veotur'd 
 To speak my mind of hi:n : and, indeed, this day. 
 Sir, (1 may tell it you,) I think, I have 
 Incens'd tlie lords o'the council, that he is 
 (For so I know he is, they know he is) 
 A most arch heretic, a pestilence. 
 That does infect the land : with which they moved. 
 Have broken with the king ; who hath so idr 
 Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace 
 And princely care ; foreseeing tliose fell mischiefs 
 Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded. 
 To-morrow morning to tlie council-board 
 He be convenled. He's a rank weed. Sir Thomas, 
 And we must root him out. From your ;ili'airs 
 I hinder you too long: good nighl, sir I'homus. 
 
 Lov. Many good niglits, my lud; 1 rest your 
 servant. [Exeunt Gardiner and Paije. 
 
 As Lovell is going out, enter the King and the 
 Duke o/' Suffolk.. 
 
 K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night; 
 My miiKi's not out, yoti are too hard tor iiie. 
 
 SiiJ. Siv, 1 (lul never win of you before. 
 
 K. Hen. B.it Utile, diaries ; 
 Nor sliall not, wlien my t'iincys on my play. — 
 Now, IjDveil, ifom the queen what is the news? 
 
 Lov. I could nut personally deliver to her 
 What you commanded me, biit by her woman 
 
 I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks 
 In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high- 
 Most heartily to pray for her. [nes 
 
 K. Hen. What say'st thou ? ha .' 
 
 To pray for her? what, is she crying out''* 
 
 Lov. So said her woman; and that her sufferance 
 Almost each pang a death. [made 
 
 K. Hen. Alas, good lady ! 
 
 Sitf. God safely quit her of her burden, and 
 With gentle travail, to the gladding of 
 Your highness with an heir! 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charle.'j 
 
 Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember 
 The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone 
 For I must think of that, which company 
 Will not be friendly to. 
 
 St<f. I wish your highness 
 
 A quiet night, and my good mistress wjll 
 Remember in my prayers. 
 
 K. Hen. Charles, good night. — 
 
 [Exit Suffolk. 
 
 Enter Sir Anthony Denny. 
 Well, sir, what follows? 
 
 IJen. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, 
 As yon commanded me. 
 
 K. Hen. Ha ! Canterbury 
 
 Den. Ay, ray good lord. '* 
 
 K. Hen. 'Tis true : Where is he, Denny ? 
 
 Den. He attends your highness' pleasure. 
 
 K. Hen. Bring liim to us. [Exit Denny. 
 
 Lov. This is about that which the bishop sp.ike ; 
 I am happily come hither. [Aside.) 
 
 Reenter Denny, with Cranmer. 
 
 K. Hen. Avoid the gallery. 
 
 [Lovell seems to stag.) 
 Ha ! — I have said. — Begone. 
 What ! [Exeunt Lovell and Denny. 
 
 Cran. I am fearful : — When-fore frowns he tlius ? 
 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not v^'ell. 
 
 K. Hen. How now, mylord ? You do desire to 
 Wherefore 1 sent for you ? [know 
 
 Cran. It is my duty 
 
 To attend your highness' pleasure. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Pray you, arise, 
 
 My good and gracious lord of Cauterbuiy. 
 Come, you and 1 must \valka turn together; 
 I have news to tell you : Come, come, give me your 
 
 hand. 
 Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak. 
 And am right sorry to repeat what follows: 
 I have, and must unwillingly, of lute 
 Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord. 
 Grievous complaints of you; which, being con 
 
 sider'd. 
 Have mov d ns and our council, that you shall 
 This morning come before us; where, 1 know. 
 You cannot with such freedom purge yourself 
 But that, till further trial, in those charges. 
 Which will require your answer, you must take 
 \'our patience to you, and be well contented 
 Toniake your house our Tower : You a brother of us. 
 It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
 Would come against you. 
 
 Gran. I humbly thank your highness; 
 
 Ami am right glad to catch this good occasion 
 Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff 
 And corn shall Hy asunder; for, I know, 
 There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, 
 Than I myself, poor man. 
 
 K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury ; 
 
 Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted 
 In us, thy friend : Give me thy hand, stand up; 
 Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy diune, 
 What manner of man are you ? My loid, 1 I ok'd 
 You would have given me your petition, tint 
 I should have taen some pains to briii^ tog. t,,T 
 Yourself and your accusers ; and tolunc tie ra you 
 Without eudiiiance, liiitlifi. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 509 
 
 Cran. Most dread liege. 
 
 The good I stand on is my triitli, and honesty. 
 If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, 
 Will triumph o'er my person ; which I weigh not, 
 Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing 
 What can be said against me. 
 
 K. Hen. Know you not how 
 
 Your state stands i' the world, with the whole world? 
 Your enemies 
 
 Are many, and not small ; their practices 
 Must bear the same proportion : and not ever 
 The justice and the truth o'the question carries 
 The due o'the Terdict with it : At what ease 
 Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
 To swear against you ? Such things have been done. 
 You are potently oppos'd ; and with a malice 
 Of a great size. Ween yon of better luck, 
 I mean, in perjur'd witness, than your master, 
 Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd 
 Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to ; 
 You take a precipice for no leap of danger. 
 And woo your own destruction. 
 
 Cran. God, and your majesty. 
 
 Protect mine innocence, or I fall into 
 The trap is laid for me ! 
 
 K. Hen. Be of good cheer ; 
 
 They shall no more prevail, than we give way to. 
 Keep comfort to yon ; and this morning see 
 You do appear before tliem ; if tiiey shall chance,' 
 In charging you with matters, to commit you, 
 The best persuasions to the contrary 
 Fail not to use, and with wliat vehemency 
 The occasion shall instruct >ou; if entreaties 
 Will render yon no remedy, this ring 
 Deliver them, and your appeal to lis 
 There make before them. — Look, the good man 
 
 weeps ! 
 He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother! 
 I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul 
 None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone, 
 And do as I have bid you. — [Exit Cranmer. 
 
 He has strangled 
 His language in his tears. 
 
 Enter an old Lady. 
 
 Gent. [Witkiji.) Comeback; what mean you V 
 
 Lady. I'll not come back ; the tidings, that I bring, 
 Wili make my boldness manners. — Now good 
 
 angels 
 Fly o'er thy royal liead, and shade thy person 
 Under (heir blessed wings 1 
 
 K. Hen. Now, by thy looks 
 
 I gue.ss thy message. Is the queen deliver'd i 
 Say, ay ; and of a boy. 
 
 Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ; 
 
 And of a lovely boy ; The God of lieaven 
 B(ith now and'ever bless her! — 'tis a girl. 
 Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen 
 Desires your visitation, and to be 
 Acquainted vvith this stranger; 'tis as like you, 
 As ciif rry is to cherry. 
 
 K. Ueti. Lovell, — 
 
 Enter Lovell. 
 
 Lov. Sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the 
 ""•■en. lExit King. 
 
 Lady. An hundred marks! By this light, I'll 
 bave more. 
 An ordinary groom is for such payment. 
 I will have more, or scold it out of him. 
 Said 1 for this, the girl is like to him ? 
 I will have more, or else unsay't ; and now 
 While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Lobby before the Council-Chnmher. 
 
 Enter Ckanmer ; Servants, Door-keeper, §fc. at- 
 tendiny. 
 
 Cran. I hope, I am not too late ; and yet the 
 gentleman. 
 
 That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me 
 To make_i;reat haste. All fast? what means this ?— 
 Who waits there? — Sure, you know me? [Hoa? 
 
 Z). Keep. Yes, my lord ; 
 
 But yet 1 cannot help you. 
 
 Cran. Why ? 
 
 D. Keep. Your grace must wait till you be 
 cali'd for. 
 
 Enter Doctor Butts. 
 
 Cran. So. 
 
 Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad 
 I came this way so ha)>pily : The king 
 Shall understand it presently. [Exit Butts. 
 
 Cran. _ _ 'Tis Butts, {Aside.) 
 
 The king's physician : As he past along, 
 How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me I 
 Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For certain, 
 This is of purpose laid, by some that hate me, 
 (God turn their hearts I I never sought their malice,) 
 To quench mine honour : they would shame to 
 
 make me 
 Wait else at door ; a fellow counsellor, 
 Among boys, grooms, and lackeys But their 
 
 pleasures 
 Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. 
 
 Enter, at a window above, the King and Butts. 
 
 Butts. I'll shew your grace the strangest sight,^ 
 K. Hen. What's that, Butts? 
 
 Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a 
 
 day. 
 K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it? 
 Butts. There, my lord : 
 
 The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury ; 
 Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, 
 Pages and footboys. 
 
 K.Hen. Hal 'Tis he, indeed: 
 
 Is this the honour they do one another ? 
 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had 
 
 thought 
 They had parted so much honesty among them, 
 (At least, good nianners,) as not thus to sulfrr 
 A man of his place, and so near our favour, 
 'I'o dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures. 
 And at the door, too, like a post witii packets. 
 By holy M.iry, Butts, there's knavery : 
 Lft them alone, and draw the curtain close ; 
 We shall hear more anon. — [Exeunt, 
 
 The Council-Chamber. 
 Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke o/Sofpolk, 
 Earl of Surrey, Lord Cham/ erlain, Gardiner, 
 and Cromwell. The Chan rellor places him- 
 self at the upper end of th 9 table on the left 
 hand; a seat being left void above him, as for 
 the Archbishop o/ Canterbury. The rest seat 
 themselves in order on each side, Cromwell at 
 the loioer end, as secretary. 
 
 Chan. Speak the business, master secretary : 
 Why are we met in council ? 
 
 Crom. Please vour honours, 
 
 The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. 
 
 Gar. Has he had knowledge of it ? 
 
 Crom. Yes. 
 
 Nor. Who waits there ? 
 
 D. Keep. Without, my noble lords ? 
 
 Gar. Yes. 
 
 D. Keep. My lord archbishop ; 
 
 And has done hall an hour, to know your pleasures. 
 
 Chan. Let him come in. 
 
 D. Keep. Your grace may enter now. 
 
 (Cranmer approaches the council-table.') 
 
 Chan. My good lord archbishop, 1 am very sorry 
 To sit here at this present, and behold 
 That chair stand empty: But we all »re men. 
 In our own nature frail ; and capable 
 Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty, 
 And want of wisdom, you, that best shouM teach urt. 
 Have misderaean'd yourself, and not a little 
 
510 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Toward the kin^j first, then his laws, in filling 
 
 The whole realm, by your teaching, ansl your 
 
 chaplains, 
 (For so we are inf'orm'cl,) with new opinions. 
 Divers, and dangerous; which are heresies. 
 And, not reforni'd, may prove pernicious. 
 
 Gar. W liich relormatjon must be sudden too, 
 My noble lords : for those, that tame wild horses, 
 Pact tliem not in their hands to make them pentle : 
 But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, au(J spur 
 
 thcMi, 
 Till lliey obey the manage. If we suffer 
 fOiitot our easiness, and childish pity 
 To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, 
 Farewell, all physic : And what follows then i 
 Commotions, uproars, with a general taint 
 Of the whole state : as, of late daySj our neighbours, 
 Tlie upper Germiiny, can dearly witness. 
 Yet freshly pitied in our memories. [^ress 
 
 Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the pro- 
 Both of my life and office, I have labour'd, 
 And with no little study, that my teaciiing. 
 And the strong course of my authority, 
 Might go one way, and safely ; and the end 
 Was ever to do well : nor is there living 
 (1 speak it with a single heart, my lords,) 
 A man that more detests, more stirs against, 
 Hoth in his private conscience, and his place, 
 Def.icers of a public peace, tiian I do. 
 Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart 
 Willi less allegiance in it! Men, that make 
 Rri\ y, and crook'd malice, nourishment, 
 Ditre bite the best. I do beseech yonr lordships, 
 That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 
 Ue wiiat they will, may stand forth face to fiice. 
 And freely urge against me. 
 
 Suf. Nay, my lord, 
 
 That cannot be ; you are a counsellor, 
 And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. 
 
 Gar. My lord, because we have business of 
 more moment, 
 We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' 
 
 jdeasure, 
 And our consent, for better trial' of you. 
 From hence you be committed to the Tower: 
 Where, being but a private man again. 
 You shall know many dare accuse you boldly. 
 More than, I fear, you are provided for. [you, 
 
 Cran, Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I tliank 
 You are always my good friend ; if your will pass, 
 I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, 
 You are so merciful : 1 see your end, 
 'Tis my undoing ; Love, and meekness, lord. 
 Become a churchman better than ambition; 
 Win straying souls with modesty again. 
 Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, 
 Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, 
 I make as little doubt, as you do conscience. 
 In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, 
 But reverence to your calling makes me modest. 
 
 Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary. 
 That's the plain truth ; your painted gloss dia 
 
 covers. 
 To men that understand you, words and weakness. 
 
 Crotn. My lord of Winchester, you are a little. 
 By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, 
 However faulty, yet should find respect 
 For what (hey have been; 'lis a cruelty, 
 To load a falling man. 
 
 Gar. Good master secretary, 
 
 I cry your honour mercy ; you may, worst 
 Of ail this table, say so. 
 
 Ciom. Why, my lord ? 
 
 Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer 
 Of this new sect? ye are not sound. 
 
 Crom. Not sound ? 
 
 Gar. Not sound , I say. 
 
 Grom. 'Would you were half so honest! 
 
 Men's prayers then would se^k you, not their fears. 
 
 Gar. 1 shall remember this bold language. 
 
 Crom. Do. 
 
 Remember your bold life too. 
 , Chan. This is too much ; 
 
 Forbear, for shame, my lords. 
 
 Gar. I have done. 
 
 Crom. And I. 
 
 Chan. Then thus for you, my lord, — It stands 
 I take it, by all voices, that forthwith [agreed. 
 
 You be conveyed to the Tower a prisoner ; 
 There to remain, till the king's further pleasure 
 Be known unto us : Are you all agreed, lords ? 
 
 All. We are. 
 
 Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, 
 
 But I must needs to the Tower, ray lords ? 
 
 Gar. What other 
 
 Would you expect? You are strangely trouble- 
 Let some o'the guard be ready there. 'some : 
 
 Enter Gttard. 
 
 Cran. For me ? 
 
 ]\Iust 1 go like a traitor thitlier? 
 
 Gar. Receive hiin. 
 
 And see him safe i'tiie Tower. 
 
 Cran. Stay, good my lords, 
 
 I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; 
 By \irtue of that ring, I take my cause 
 Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 
 To a most noble judge, the king my master. 
 
 Cham. This is the king's ring. 
 
 Stir. 'Tis no counterfeit. 
 
 Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven : I told ye all. 
 When we fijst [tut this dangerous stone a rolling, 
 'Twould fall ujion curst^lves. 
 
 Nor_. Do you think, my lords, 
 
 The king will suffer but the little finger 
 Of this iiian to be vex'd ? 
 
 Cham. 'Tis now too certain : 
 
 How much more is his life in value with him ? 
 Would I were fairly out on't. 
 
 Crom. My mind gave me. 
 
 In seeking tales and informations. 
 Against this man, (whose honesty the devil 
 And his disciples only envy at,) 
 Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye. 
 
 Enter King, frowning on them; takes his seat. 
 
 Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound 
 to heaven 
 In daily thanks, that gave ns such a prince ; 
 Not only good and wise, but most religious : 
 One tliat, in all obedience, makes the church 
 The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen 
 That holy duty, out of dear respect. 
 His royal self in judgment comes to hear. 
 The cause betwixt her and this great offender. 
 
 K. Heii, You were ever good at sudden com- 
 mendations. 
 Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
 To hear such flattery now, and in my presence, 
 They are too thin and base to hide olfences. 
 To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel. 
 And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; 
 But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure 
 Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. — 
 Good man, (to Cranmer) sit down. Now let me 
 
 see the proudest 
 He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: 
 By all that's holy, he had better starve. 
 Than but once think his place becomes thee not. 
 
 Sur. May it please your grace, — 
 
 K. Hen. No, sir, it does n6t please me, 
 
 I had thought, I had had men of some under- 
 standing 
 And wisdom, of my council; but find none. 
 Was it discretion, lords, to let this man. 
 This good man, (few of you deserve that title,) 
 This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy 
 At chamber-door? and one as great as you are? 
 Why, what a shame was this? Did my cominissiOD 
 Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING HEXRY VIII. 
 
 511 
 
 Power as he was a counsellor to try liiin, 
 Not as a prooin ; Tliere's some ol ye, I sec. 
 More out of malice than integrity. 
 Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ; 
 Which ye shall never have, while I live. 
 
 Chan. Thi:s far. 
 
 My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace 
 To let my tongue excuse all. What was puri)os'd 
 Concerning his imprisonment, was rather 
 (If there he faith in men,) meant for his trial, 
 And fair purgation to the world, than malice ; 
 I am sure, in me. 
 
 K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him ; 
 
 Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. 
 I will say thus much i'or him, If a prince 
 May be beholden to a subject, I 
 Am, for his love and seivice, so to him. 
 Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ; 
 Befriends, for shame, my lords. — MylordofCan- 
 
 terbur}', 
 I have a suit, which you must not deny me ; 
 That is, a fair young maid, that yet wants baptism, 
 Vou must be godfather, and answer for her. 
 
 Cran, The greatest monarch now alive rray 
 glory 
 In s'tch an honour; How may I deserve it. 
 That am a poor and humble subject to you? 
 
 K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare 
 your spoons; you sliall ha\e 
 Two joble partners with you ; the old Duchess of 
 
 Norfolk, 
 And lady marquis Dorset ; Will these please yori ? 
 Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you. 
 Embrace, and love this man. 
 
 Gar. With a true heart. 
 
 And brother-love, I do it. 
 
 C-an. And let heaven 
 
 Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. 
 
 K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears shew thy 
 true heart. 
 Tlie common voice, I see, is verified 
 Of tliee, which says thus, i>o my lord of Canterhta-ij 
 A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever. — • 
 Come, lords, we trille time away ; i long 
 'i'o liave tliis young one made a christian. 
 As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ; 
 Si) 1 glow stronger, you more honour gain. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene lU.—The Palace Yard. 
 
 Noise and tumtdt ivithin. Enter Porter and his 
 Man. 
 
 Port. Y"ou'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals : 
 Do you take the court for Paris-garden ? ye rude 
 slaves, leave your gaph)g. 
 
 (Within.) Good master porter, I belong to the 
 larder. 
 
 Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you 
 rogue: Is this a place to roar in? — Fetch me a 
 dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; .these are 
 but switches to them. — I'll scratch your heads: 
 Vou must be seeing christenings ? Do you look for 
 Hie and cakes here, you rude rascals. 
 
 Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much im- 
 possible 
 ^Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons,) 
 To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep 
 On May-day morning; which will never be: 
 We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. 
 
 Port. How got they in, and be hang'd i 
 
 Man. Alas, I know not; Hovv gets the tide in? 
 As much as one sound cudgel of four foot 
 
 IYou see the poor remainder) could distribute, 
 made uo spare, sir. 
 
 Port. You did nothing, sir. 
 
 Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Col- 
 brand, to raow them down before me : but, if I 
 spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or 
 old, he or she, cuckold or cnckoldmaki r, let mu 
 never hope to see a chine again;' and that I would 
 
 not for a cow, God save her. 
 
 {Within.) Do you hear, master porter? 
 
 Port. I shall be with you presently, good master 
 puppy. — Keep the door close, sirrah. 
 
 Man. What would you have me do? 
 
 Port. What should yon do, but knock them 
 down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster 
 in ? or have we some strange Indian with the great 
 tool come to court, the women so besiege ns? 
 Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door ! On 
 my christian conscience, this one christening will 
 beget a thousand ; here will be father, godtUther 
 and all together. 
 
 Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There 
 is a iellovv somewhat near the door, he slioutd be a 
 brazier by his face, for, o'my conscience, twenty 
 of the dog-days now reign in's nose ; all that stand 
 about him are under the line, they need no other 
 penance : That fire-drake did I hit three times on 
 the head, and three times was his nose discharged 
 against me ; he stands there, like a mortai-piece, to 
 blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of 
 small wit near him, that railed upon uie till her 
 pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kiiidhug such 
 a combustion in the state. I miss'd tlie meteor 
 once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs ! 
 when I might see from far some forty tniiicheoneers 
 draw to her succour, which were the h ipe of the 
 Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; 
 I made good my place ; at lengtii they cone to the 
 broomstaff with me, I defied them slill; when sud- 
 denly a file of boys behind theie, loo-ic shot, deli- 
 vered such a shower of pebbles, that 1 was lam to 
 draw mine honour in, and let them win ihe work: 
 The devil was among them, I think, siiiely. 
 
 Port. These are the youtlis that thunder at a 
 play-house, and fight for bitten apples ; that no 
 audience but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the 
 limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able 
 to endure. I have some of them in Liwho Patrimt, 
 and there they are like to dance these tliree days ; 
 besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is 
 to couie. 
 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. jMercy o'me, what a multitude are here ! 
 They grow still too, from all parts they are coming. 
 As if we kept a fair here ! Where are the porters, 
 'J'hese lazy knaves ? — Ye have made a fine hand, 
 
 fellows. 
 There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these 
 Vourfaifhtul friends o'the suburbs? We shall have 
 Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies. 
 When they pass back from the christening. 
 
 Port. ' An't please your hotioui. 
 
 We are but men ; and what so many may do. 
 Not being torn a pieces, we have done : 
 An army canuot rule them. 
 
 Cham. As I live. 
 
 If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all 
 By the heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads 
 Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy kuavea; 
 And here ye lie baiting of bumbarcls, when 
 Ve should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound ; 
 They are come already from the christening : 
 Go, break among the press, and find a way out 
 To let the troop pass fairly ; or I'll find 
 A Alarshalsea, shall hold you play these tw« 
 months. 
 
 Port. INlake way there for the princess. 
 
 Man. YViu great fellow, stand close up, or I'll 
 make your head ache. 
 
 Port. You i'the carablet, get up o'the rail ; I'll 
 pick you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV.— T/te Palace. 
 
 Enter trumpets, sounding ; then two Aldermen, 
 Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke ofSoa.- 
 FOLK, with his marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk 
 ttvo Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls 
 
512 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 for tlit! christening gifts ; then four Noblemen 
 bearing u cmtopy, under tvhich the Duchess of 
 NoRPuLK, godmother, hearing the Child, richly 
 habited in a mantle, §fc. Train borne by a 
 Lady : then follows the 31archioness of DoKSET, 
 the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop 
 pass once abottt the stage, and Garter speaks, 
 (•art. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send 
 pr<>M|it-roiis life, long, and ever happy, to tlie high 
 and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King and Train. 
 
 Cran. [Kneeling.) And to your royal grace, and 
 the good queen. 
 My noble partners, and myself, thus pray: — 
 All comi'ort, joy, in this most gracious lady. 
 Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy 
 May lioiirly fall upon ye ! 
 
 K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop : 
 
 , VV hat is her name ? 
 
 Vran. Elizabeth. 
 
 A. Hen. Stand up, lord. — 
 
 [The King kisses the Child.) 
 With this kiss take my blessing: God protect 
 Into whose hands I give thy life. [thee ! 
 
 (]ran. Amen. 
 
 K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too 
 prodigal : 
 r thank ye heartily ; so shall this lady, 
 When she has so much English. 
 
 Cran. Jjel me speak, sir, 
 
 Por heaven novr bids me ; and the words I utter 
 Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth. 
 This royal infant, (heaven still move about her 1) 
 Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
 Upon this land a thousand thousand blc'ssiii,^s, 
 Which time shall bring to ripeness : She shall be 
 (But few now living can behold tiiat goodness,) 
 A pattern to all princes, living with her. 
 And all, that shall succeed: Sheba \yns never 
 More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue. 
 Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces, 
 That mould up such a mighty piece as tiiis is. 
 With all the virtues that attend the good, 
 Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her. 
 Holy and lieavenly thoughts still counsel her: 
 She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless 
 
 her: 
 Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
 And hang their heads with sorrow : Good grows 
 
 with her: 
 In her days, every man shall eat in safety 
 Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing 
 The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : 
 God shall be tn.ly known ; and those about her 
 From her shall read the perfect ways oi' honour. 
 And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
 Norshall this p«aee sleep with her: Butas wlien 
 
 The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phu,iiix. 
 
 Her ashes new create another heir, 
 
 As great in admiration as herself: 
 
 So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
 
 (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of 
 
 darkness,) 
 Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, 
 Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
 And so stand fix'd : Peace, plenty, love, truth, 
 
 terror. 
 That were the servants to this chosen infant. 
 Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
 Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine. 
 His honour and the greatness of his name 
 Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, 
 And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
 To all the plains about him : Our children' 
 
 children 
 Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
 K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders. 
 
 Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, 
 An aged princess; many days shall see her, 
 And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 
 Would I had known no more ! but she must die. 
 She must, the saints must have her ;'yet a virgin, 
 A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
 'l"o the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. 
 
 K. Hen. O lord archbishop. 
 Thou hast made me now a man ; never, before 
 This happy child, did I get any thing: 
 This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me. 
 That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire 
 To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. — 
 I thank ye all, — To you, my good lord mayor. 
 And your good brethren, I am much beholden ; 
 I have receiv'd much honour by your presence. 
 And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the wny 
 
 lords ; — 
 Y'e must all see the queen, and she must thank ye. 
 She will be sick else. This day, no man think 
 He has business at his house ; for all shall stay, 
 'i'his little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 'Tis ten to one, this play can never please 
 All that are here: Some come to take their ease. 
 And sleep an act or two : but those, we fear, 
 We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, 
 'i'hey'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the city 
 Abus'd extremely, and to cry, — that's tvitty I 
 Which we have not done neither : that, I fear, 
 All the exj)ected good we are like to hear 
 For this |)lay at this time, is only in 
 The merciful construction of good women; 
 For such a one we shew'd them : If they smile 
 And say, 'twill do, I know, witiiin a while 
 All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap. 
 If tliey hold, when their ladies bid them clap. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not one of those in which 
 either the extent of his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. As the story abounded with m:\teriiils, 
 lie has exerted little invention; but lie has diversified his characters with great variety, and preserved them with 
 great exactness. His vicious characters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and raniL^irus are dptested 
 and coutemned Tiie comic rharnclers seeiii to have been the favourites of the writer: they are of the superficial 
 kind, and exhibit mote of manners than nature; but they are copiously filled, and powerfully impressed. Shak 
 speare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Caxton, which was then very jiopular; but 
 tlie character of Thcrsites, of which it makes no mention, is proof that this play was written after Chapman had 
 published his version of Honi<;r. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 FRIAM, King of Troy. 
 
 HECTOR, ■» 
 
 TROILUS, I 
 
 PARIS, > his Sons. 
 
 DEIPHORUS, I 
 
 HKLENUS. •' 
 
 iENEAS,— ANTENOK,— 7Vo;n« Commanders. 
 
 CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with 
 
 Greeks. , 
 
 PANDARUS, Uncle to Cressirla. 
 MARGAHKLON, a bastard Son of Priam. 
 AGAMEMNON, t/ie Grecian General. 
 MENELAUS, his Brother. 
 
 AJAX"^^^' } ^''f'^'"" Commanders. 
 
 the 
 
 Grecian Commanders. 
 
 ULYSSES, 
 
 NESTOK. 
 
 DIOMEDES. 
 
 PATROCLUS, J 
 
 THEKSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian, 
 
 ALEXANDEK, Servant to Cressida. 
 
 Servant to Troilus. 
 
 Servant to Paris. 
 
 Servant to Diomedes, 
 
 HELEN, Wife to Menelaus. 
 ANDROMACHE. Wife to Hector. 
 CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam, a Prophetess. 
 CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas. 
 
 Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 In Troy, tliere lies the scene. From isles of 
 Greece 
 The princes orgiilotis, tlieir hijjh blood chaf'd, 
 Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, 
 Fratight witli the ministers and instrnments 
 Of cruel war: Sixty and nitie, that wore 
 Tlieir crownets regal, fVoin tlie Athenian bay 
 Put forward toward Phrygia : and their vow is made. 
 To ransack Troy ; within those strong iiomurea 
 The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, 
 W^ith wanton Paris sleeps ; and that's the quarrel. 
 To Tenedos they come : 
 
 And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
 'I'iieir warlike fraughtuge : Now on Dardan plains 
 The fresh and yet iinbruised Greeks do pitch 
 Their brave pavilions; Priam's six-gated city, 
 Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan, 
 And Autenorides, with massy staples. 
 And corresponsive and fultilling bolts, 
 Sperr np the sons of Troy. 
 Nfow expectation; tickling skittish spirits. 
 On one. and other side, Trojan and (Jreek, 
 Sets all on hazard : — And hither am I come 
 A prologue arm'd, — but not in confidence 
 Of author's pen, or actor's voice ; but suited 
 In like conditions as our argument, — 
 To tell you, fair beholders, that our play 
 Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstling of those broils 
 'Ginning in the middle ; starting thence away 
 To what may be digested in a play. 
 Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ; 
 Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. 
 
 ACT L 
 
 Scene L — Troi/. Before Priam's Palace. 
 Entt^r Tkoilus armed, Und Pandarus. 
 Tro. Call here my varlet, I'll unarm again : 
 Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
 That find such cruel battle here within? 
 Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, 
 Let him to field ; Troihis, alas ! hath none. 
 Pan. Will this geer ne'er be mended ? 
 Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their 
 strength. 
 Pierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; 
 lint I am weaker than a woman's tear, 
 Tamer tiiun vieep, fonder than ignorance ; 
 
 Less valiant than the virgin in the night, 
 And skiU-less as unpractis'd infiincy. 
 
 Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : for 
 my part, I'll not meddle nor make no fiirtiier. He, 
 that will have a cake out of the wheat, must fan y 
 the grinding. 
 
 Tro. Have I not tarried ? 
 
 Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the 
 bolting. 
 
 Tro. Have I not tarried ? [leavening. 
 
 Pan. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the 
 
 Tro. Still have I tarried. 
 
 Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in the 
 word — hereafter, the kneading, the making of the 
 cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; nay, 
 you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance 
 to burn your lips. 
 
 Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er s!ie be. 
 Doth lesser blench at snfi'erance than I do. 
 At Priam's royal table do I sit : 
 And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, — 
 
 So, traitor ! when she conies ! 
 
 -when 
 
 she 
 
 thence ? 
 
 Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than 
 ever I saw her look, or any woman else, 
 
 Tro. I was about to tell thee, — When my heart. 
 As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain ; 
 Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, 
 I have (as when the sun doth light a storm,) 
 Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: 
 But sorrow, that is coucli'd in seeming gladness, 
 Is like that mirth, fate turns t3 sudden sadness. 
 
 Pan. An her hitirwere not somewhat darker than 
 Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more com- 
 parison between the women, — But, for my part, 
 she is my kinswoman ; I would not, as they term 
 it, praise her, — Hut I would somebody had htaid 
 her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise 
 your sister Cassandra's wit ; — but 
 
 Tro. O, Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, — 
 When I do tell thee, Tiiere my hopes lie drovvii'd. 
 Reply not in how many fritliouis deep 
 They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad 
 In Cressid's love : 'i'hou answei'st. She is fair; 
 Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
 Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks, her g;iit, her voice ; 
 Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, 
 In whose comparison all whites are ink. 
 Writing their own reproach ; To whose soft seizure 
 
 3'.$ 
 
514 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 The cygnet's down is Iiarsh, and siiirit of sense 
 fJard as tlie palm oi ijloiigliinau ! lliis tlioii tell'st 
 
 '"«■> f i f '■-.■ -r f • * ■ ;i i I 
 
 As true tlioii iell'stine, wKefi .1 sa/^^-l foveiier; ^- S 
 U:!t saying-, lluis, instead uf oil and balm, 
 Thon lay'stin every gasii (liat lij\e liatli given me, 
 'i'lie knife tliat made it. 
 
 Pan. J speak no more than truth. 
 
 Tro. Tliun dost not speak so. much. 
 
 Pan. Faith, I'll not meddle int. Let her be as 
 she is: if'slie be fair, 'tis the better for lier; an she 
 be not, she lias the nieuds in her own hands. 
 
 7Vo. Good I'andarus! How now, Paiidinis f 
 
 Pan. i have had my labour ibr my travel : ill- 
 thought on ol her, and ill thought on of you: gojie 
 between and between, but small thanks for liiy 
 labour. 
 
 Tro. VV'hat, art thou angry, Pandarns ? what, 
 with me ? . '. : .■ 
 
 Patt. Because she is kin to me, therefore she's 
 not so lair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, 
 she vvoiild be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on 
 Sunday, liut what care I? I care not, an slie were 
 a bhck-a-moor ; 'tis all oneto me. 
 
 Tro. Say i, slie is not fair'!* 
 
 Pan. I do not care whetiier you do or no. She's 
 a ibol to stay behind her lather ; let her to the 
 Greeks : and so 111 tell her the next time 1 see her : 
 for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in the 
 matter. 
 
 Tro. Pandanis, — 
 
 Pan. Notl. ■ 
 
 Tru. Sweet Pandanis;-^ 
 'Pan. Pray yon, speak' no more to me; I will 
 leave all as llbuiid it, arid (here an end. 
 
 [Exit Pandarus. An alarum. 
 
 Tro. Peace, you ungracious claniours ! peace, 
 rude sounds ! 
 Fools on both sides I Helen must needs be fair. 
 When with your blood you dady | aint her thus. 
 I cannot fight upon tliis argum.n'. ; 
 It is too stan'd a subject for my sword. 
 But Pandarus ! — O gods, how do you jilague nlie| 
 1 cannot come to Uiessid, but by PanJar; 
 And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo, 
 As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. 
 Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, 
 What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what We ? 
 Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl : 
 Between our Ilium, and wiiere she re>ides. 
 Let it he call'd the wild and wandering flood ; 
 Oiirseli, the merchant ; and this sailing Pandar, 
 (Jur doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. 
 
 Alarum. Enter AifiExs. 
 "•:/Ene. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore not 
 atield '! [sorts, 
 
 7Voi' Because' liot there ; This woman's answer 
 For womanish it is to be from thence. 
 Wliat news, iEneas, from the field to-day ? 
 
 JEne. That Paris is retuni'd home, and hurt.' . | 
 
 Tro. By whom, jEiieas'/ '•' '-'■']) 
 
 Aine. Troilns, by MenelaiM. ' '■ 
 
 Tro. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ; 
 Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. (Alarum.) 
 
 JEne. Haik I what good sport is out of town to- 
 ■ day J [may.— 
 
 Tro. Better at home, if would I might, were 
 But, to tihe sport abroad;- — Are you bound thither"? 
 
 jEtih. In all swift haste. 
 
 Tro. Come, go we then together. [Exeunt. 
 
 . Scene IL — The same. A Street. 
 Enter Cressid.\ and Alexander. 
 
 Cres: VVlio were those -weflt by ? 
 
 Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. 
 
 Oreit. And whither go they '/ 
 
 Alex. ■ Up to the eastern tower, 
 
 \Vh.)se height commands as subject allthe vale, 
 To see the 'battle. Hector, whose patience 
 
 Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was mnv'd • 
 
 He chid Andromache, and struck his armouier; 
 
 Ai'd. like as there were husbandry JriWar, 
 
 "Before the sun rose, he was harness'd light. 
 
 And to the field goes he ; where every flower 
 
 Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw 
 
 In Hector's wrath. 
 
 Cres. What was his cause of anger? 
 
 goes, this : Tliere is among the 
 
 Alex, The nojse 
 Greeks 
 
 A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector: 
 Thy call liini Ajax. 
 
 Cres. Good ; And what of him'.' 
 
 Alex. They say he is a \ery man jjer se, 
 And slauiis a|oue. 
 
 Cres. So do all men ; unless they are drunk, sick, 
 or have no legs. 
 
 Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts 
 of their particular additions ; he is as valiant as the 
 lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant; a 
 man, into whom nature hath so crowded humours, 
 tJiat his \aloiir is crushed into folly, his folly sauced 
 with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue, that 
 he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, 
 but he carries some stain of it : He is melancholy 
 widioiit cause, and merry against the hair : He h^i-h 
 the joints of everything; but every thing so out of 
 joint, tiiat he js a gouty Briareus, many hands and 
 no use ; or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. 
 
 tVes. But how should this man, that makes me 
 smiie, make Hector angry ? 
 
 Alex. 'I'hey say, he yesterday coped Hector in 
 the battle, and struck him down ; the disdain and 
 shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting 
 and waking. ''.■■ ;, ■"' • 
 
 Enter Pand.\rus. . ; j 
 
 Cres. Who comes here? ' ■ 
 
 Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 
 
 Cres. Hector's a gallant man. 
 
 Alex. As may be in the world, lady 
 
 Pan. What's that? what's that? 
 
 Cres. Goad morrow, uncle Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. (jood morrow, cousin Cressid ; 
 
 What, do 
 —How do 
 
 yon talk of? — Good morrow, Alexander.- 
 
 you, cousin 'i* When were you at llinin ? 
 Cres. This morning, uncle. 
 Pan. What were you talking of, when I came ?. ■ 
 
 Was Hector a.-.n^d, and gone, ere ye came tolhum? 
 
 Helen was not up, was she ;' • 
 
 Cres. Hector was gone : but Helen was not up.. / 
 Pan. E'en so; Hector was stirring early... ■:■•■/■ 
 Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger / 
 Pa7i. Was he angry? . u* * 
 
 Cres. So he says here. . i- ''' 
 
 Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too y 
 
 he'll layabout him to-day, I can tell them that:^ 
 
 and there is Troilus will not come far behind him;; 
 
 let them take heed of Troilus ; I can tell them that 
 
 Cres. What, is lie angry too? [too. 
 
 ■ Pan. Who, Troilus? 'I'roilus is the better man 
 
 of the two. ■ < 
 
 Cres. O, Jupiter ! there's no comparison. .^i.i 
 
 Pa7i. What, not betw een Troilus and Hector V 
 
 Do you know a man. if you see him ? 
 
 Cres. Ay ; if ever 1 saw him before, and knew him. 
 
 Pan. Well, I say, Troihia is Troilas. 
 
 Cres. Then you say as I say; for, I mn sure, he 
 
 is not Hector. 
 Pan. No, rior Hector is not Troilus, m soine^ 
 
 degrees. .... i<- i 
 
 Cres. 'Tis jus^ to each of them, he is himself. 
 Pan. Himself? Alas, poor Troilus ! I would, hfc ■ 
 
 Cres. So he isj " '' '"' [India. 
 
 Potj. __-Coriditiori,'r' li&d gotie bare-ioot to 
 Cres. He is not Hector. , 
 
 Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself.— Would a 
 were himself! Well, the 8od^^ are above; Time 
 must friend, or end; Well, Troilus. well,— I would. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TflOTLUS AN6 ' cfeE^STDA. 
 
 515 
 
 my heart were in her body .—No, Hector is not a 
 l)etter m;. ii tii;ui Troiius. , 
 
 Cres. li\c»ige mk'. • 
 
 Pan. Heiselder. ,. ,. ; ... ,;i ,, ,: j 
 
 tVj?s. Pardon nie, pardoume. ,f."i'. ,;ti,, ,,,,,., ' / 
 
 Pfin. Tlie otiier's not come to'it; yon shall tell 
 nve iinother tale, when the other's come to't. Hector 
 shall not have his wit this year. 
 
 Cros. He shall lint need it, if" he have his own. 
 
 Pan. Nor his qualities ; — 
 
 Cres. No matter. 
 
 Pan. Nor his beauty. 
 
 Cres. 'Tuould notbecoine liiin^ his own's better. 
 
 Pail. Voii have no jiulj;ineiit, niece: Helen her- 
 self swore the other day, that 'i'roilus, for a browu 
 favour, (fur so 'tis, I iiiiist confess,) — Not brown 
 ueitlier. , . , 
 
 Cres. No, but brown. 
 
 Pan. 'Faitli, to say truth, brown and not brown. 
 
 Cres. To say the (ruth, true and not true. 
 
 Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. I 
 
 Cres. VVIiy, Paris iiath. .colour enough. 
 
 Pa?i So he has. ^•. ,: ■ 
 
 Cres. 'I'hen, Troikis should have too much: if 
 she praised liim above, his complexion is higher 
 than his ^ iie having colour enoiigli, and the other 
 nigher, is l(X) flaming a praise for a good complexion. 
 I liad as lit- f, Helen's gulden tongue had commended 
 'I'roilus for a copper niise. . ■ ', i . ' 
 
 Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen; loves him 
 Setter than Paris; 
 
 Cres. Then she's a inerry Greek, indeed, i 
 
 Pan. Nay, I «in sare shedoes. She came tt) hitti 
 the other day into a compass'd window, — and, you 
 know, he has not past tliree or four hairs on his ctiin. 
 
 Cres. Indeed, a tajister's arithmetic may sooii 
 bring Ills particulars therein to a totali ' •■ : ! 
 
 Pan. Wliy, he is very young: and yet will he, 
 within three joound, lift as nuich as his brother 
 Hector. 
 
 Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter ? ; 
 Pan. But, to prove to you, that Helen lo\ es him ; 
 — sue tame, and puts nie her white hand to his 
 < lo\ en c.iin, — ' 
 
 Cres. Juno have mercy! — How came it cloven? 
 
 Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think, his 
 
 smiling becomes him better thaa any man in ^11 
 
 Plirygia. ' ' !■» 11 I" "•••••::! rlli // 
 
 Cres. O, he smiles valiantly. ■ i • •'■'■ ■ ■: ' - '■'• 
 
 Pan. Does he not ? 
 
 Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. 
 
 Pan. VViiy, go to then : — But to prove to yoii> 
 that Helen loves Troilus, — , . 'I .. ' 
 
 Cres. Troilus will stand to the proofj if you'H 
 prove it so. ' 
 
 Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no mrtre than 
 I esteem an addle egg. ■ 
 
 Cres. W you love an addle egg as well as you love 
 an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the .shell. 
 
 Pan, I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she 
 tickled his chin ;^Iiideed, she has a marvellous 
 white hind, I must needs confess. 
 
 Cres. Without tlie rack. 
 
 Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a while hair 
 on his chin. . 
 
 Cres. Alas, poor chin ! marly a wart is richer. 
 
 Pan. IJut, (here was such laughing; — Queen 
 Hecuba 1 iMglied, that her'eyes ran o'er. ' 
 
 Cres, VVitli mill stones. 
 
 Pan. And C issandra laughed. 
 
 Cres. Hut there was a more temperate fire nnder 
 be pot ol' her eyes ; — Did her eyes run o'er too ? 
 
 Pan And Hector laughed. 
 
 Cres. At what was all this laughing? 
 
 Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied 
 on Tr.jilus's chin. 
 
 Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have 
 launheil too. 
 
 Pan. Tiiey laughed not so much at the hair, as 
 ftt liis pretty answer. 
 
 Cres. What was his answer? 
 
 Pan. Q loth she. Here's Ittit 07:.e andjifty haira 
 en your chin, and one of them is ichite. 
 Cres. This is her question. 
 
 Pan. That's true ; make no question of tliat. 
 One and jlflij hairs, quoth he, and one ichite: 
 That ichite hair is my father, and all the rest are 
 his sdn.9. Jupiter ! quoth she, tvliich of these hairs 
 is Paris tny husband? The forked one, quoth he ; 
 p/uck it out, and give it him. Hut, there was such 
 laughing ! and Helen so blushed, and Paris sc 
 chafed, and all the rest so laugh'd, that it pass'd. 
 
 Cres. So let it now; for it has been a great while 
 goiug by. 
 
 Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; 
 think on't. 
 
 Cres. So I do. 
 
 Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, 
 an 'twere a man born in April. 
 
 Cres. And 111 spring up in his tears, an 'twere a 
 nettle against May. [A retreat sounded.) 
 
 Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field: Sliall 
 we stand up here, and see themjas they pass towards 
 Ilium :" good niece, do; sweet niece Cressida. 
 
 Cres. At your pleasure. 
 
 Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place ; here 
 we may see most bravely : I'll tell you then all by 
 their names, as they pass by ; but toark 'IVoiluj 
 above the rest. ' ' 
 
 iENE.is passes over the Stage. 
 
 Cres. Speak not so loud. 
 
 Pan. 'I'hat's jEneas ; Is not that a brave man 'i* 
 he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you:- But 
 mark Troilus ; you sliall see anon. 
 
 tVcS. Who's that'? u.-; I,.,/ ., 
 
 ' - ■•■ ■■; ...! 1.1,, .\ 
 
 Aktesor passes over. 
 
 Pan. That's Antenor; he has a shrewd wit, I can 
 tell you ; and ht^'.s a man good enough ;• he's one 
 o'the soundest judgments' in Troy, whosoever, and 
 a proper inan of person ; — When comes Troilus •' 
 — I'll shew you Troilus anoii ; it he see me, j^ou 
 shailsee him nod at me. ' '' '' ' '•' '"' ' ''■'■'■ 
 
 Cres. Will iie give you the nocl?' "' ' '' 
 
 Pan. You shall see. ' ■" ■ 
 
 Cres. If he do, the rich shall havetftdre. 
 
 ' Hector passes ouer. ' ,, . 
 
 Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that ; 
 There's a fellow! — Go thy way, tlector;— 'rhere's 
 a bra\ e man, niece. — O braVe Hector ! — Look, how 
 he looks ! there's a co(itttenance : Is't not a brava 
 man! ,' ' ■'^•' :['"' '■•'•.'■"■." I [-■■' 
 
 Cres. O, a brave mail r " ' ' ' 
 
 Pan. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good-^ 
 Look you what hacks are On his helmet! look you 
 yonder, do you see ? look you there ! There's no 
 jesting: there's laying on; take't off who will, aa 
 they .say : there be hacks } 
 
 Cres. Be those with swords ? 
 
 Paris passes over. 
 
 Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not : an the 
 devil come to him, it's all one : By god'» lid, it does 
 one's heart good: — Yonder comes Paris, yonder 
 comes Paris : look ye yonder, niece ; Is t not a 
 gallant man too, i«'t not? — Why, this is brave now. 
 — Who said, he came hurt home to-day ? he's not 
 hurt : why, this will do Helen's heart good now. 
 Ha ! 'would I could see Troilus now ! — you shall sea 
 Troilus ano'.i. 
 
 Cres. Who's that? 
 
 Helenus passes over^ 
 
 Pan. That's Helenas, — I marvel, where Troiltts 
 is : — That's Helenas ;^I think he went not forth to- 
 day : — That's Helenas. 
 
 Cres. Can Helenas fight, uncle? 
 
 Pan. Helenas? no; — yes, he'll fight indiflerejt, 
 
51 L. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 ^vell: — I marvel, where Troiltis is! — Hark; do 
 yoii not hear the people ciy, Troihis?— Heleniis is a 
 yriest. 
 
 Cres. WHiat sneaking fellow comes yonder '. 
 
 Troilus passes over. 
 
 Pan. Where ? yonder ? that's Deiphobus : Tis 
 Troilus ! tliere's a man. niece ! — Hem ! — Brave 
 Troiliis! the prince of chivalry. 
 
 Cres. Peace, for shame, peace ! 
 
 Pan. Mark him; note him; — O brave Troilns ! 
 — look well upon liim, niece; look yon, how his 
 swoid is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than 
 Hector's ; And how he looks, and how he goes!— 
 
 admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three-and twenty. 
 Go thy way, Troihis, go thy way ; had I a sister 
 were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should 
 take his choice. O admirable man ! Paiis :'— Pans 
 is dirt to him ; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, 
 would give an eye to boot. 
 
 Forces pass over the Stage. 
 
 Ores. Here come more. 
 
 Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaflT and bran, chaff 
 and bran! porridge af(er meat! I could live and 
 die i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look ; 
 the eagles are gone ; crows and daws, crows and 
 daws ! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than 
 Agamemnon and all Greece. 
 
 Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a 
 better man than Troihis. 
 
 Pan. Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very 
 camel. 
 
 Cres. Well, well. 
 
 Pan. Well, well ?— Why, have you any discre- 
 tion ? have you any eyes ? Do you know what a 
 man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, dis- 
 course, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, yoath, 
 liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that 
 season a man? 
 
 (Jres. Ay, a minced man ; and then to ba baked 
 with no date in the pie, — for then the man's date is 
 out. 
 
 Part. You are such a woman! one knows not at 
 what ward you lie. 
 
 Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly ; upon 
 my wit, to defend my wiles; and upon my secrecy, 
 to'defend mine honesty; my mask, to deiend my 
 beauty ; and you, to olefend all these : and at all 
 these wards I lie, at a thousand watches. 
 
 Pan. Say one of your watches. 
 
 Cres. Nay, 111 watch you for that; and that's 
 one of the chiefest of them too : if I cannot ward 
 what I would not have hit, I can watch you tor tell- 
 ing how I took the blow ; unless it swell past hid- 
 ing, and then it is past watching. 
 
 Pan. You are such another 1 
 
 Enter Troilus' Boy. 
 
 Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. 
 Pan. Where? 
 
 Boy. At your own house ; there he unarms him. 
 Pan. Good boy, tell him I come: [Exit Boy. 
 
 1 doubt, he be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece. 
 
 Cres. Adieu, uncle. 
 
 Pan. Ill be with you, niece, by and by. 
 
 Cres. To bring, uncle, — 
 
 Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus. 
 
 Cres. By the same token — you are a bawd. 
 
 [Exit Pandartis. 
 Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice. 
 He oilers in another's enterprise : 
 But more in Troilus thousand fold I see 
 Than in the glass of l^andar's praise may be ; 
 "i'et hold I oft". Wjmen are angels, wooing: 
 Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing: 
 That she, belov'd, knows nouirht, that kuows not 
 
 this.— 
 Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is : 
 
 That she was ne^ er yet, that ever knew 
 Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue : 
 Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, — 
 Achievement is command ; ungain'd, beseech: 
 Then though my heart's content firm lo\e doth bear 
 Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exit 
 
 Scene HI. — The Grecian Camp. Before Aga* 
 memnon's Tent. 
 
 Trumpets. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, Ulysses, 
 Menelaus, and others. 
 
 Agam. Princes, 
 What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks? 
 The ample proposition, that hope makes 
 In all designs begun on earth below, 
 Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters 
 Grow in the veins of actions highest rt- ar'd ; 
 As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap. 
 Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
 Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 
 Nor, princes, is it matter new to us, 
 That we come short of our suppose so far. 
 That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand 
 Sith every action, that hath gone before, 
 Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
 Bias and thwart, not answering the aim. 
 And that unbodied figure of the thought. 
 That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes. 
 Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ; 
 Ana think them shames, which are, indeed, nonght 
 
 else 
 But the protractive trials of great Jove, 
 To find persistive constancy in men ? 
 The fineness of which metal is not found 
 In fortune's love : for then, the bold and coward. 
 The wise and fool, the artist and unread. 
 The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin: 
 But, in the wind and tempest of hrt- frown. 
 Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan. 
 Puffing at all. winnows the light away ; 
 And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
 Lies, rich in \irtue, and unmingled. 
 
 Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat. 
 Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 
 Thy latest wordsl In the reproof ol chance 
 Lies the true proof of men: The sea being smooth 
 How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
 Upon her patient breast, making their way 
 \Vith those of n. bier bulk ? 
 But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
 The gentle Tlietis. and, anon, behold 
 The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut. 
 Bounding Detween the two moist eleaients. 
 Like Perseus* horse : Where's then the saucy boat 
 Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
 Co-rival'd greatness ? either to hajbour fled, 
 Or made a toast for Neptune, Even so 
 Doth valour's shew, and valour's worth, divide, 
 In storms of fortune : For, in her ray and brightness, 
 The herd hath more annoyance by the brize. 
 Than by the tiger : but when the splitting wind 
 Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks. 
 And flies fled under shade, Why, then, the thiiig of 
 
 courage, 
 As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize. 
 And with an accent tun'd in selfsame key, 
 Returns to chiding fortune. 
 
 TJlyss. Agamemncn, — 
 
 Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece ; 
 Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. 
 In whom the tempers and the minds of all 
 Should be shut up, — hear what Ulysses s))f aks. 
 Besides the applause and approbation 
 Tiie which,— most mighty for thy place and sway,— 
 
 [To Agamemnon.) 
 And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd out life, — 
 
 (To Nestor.) 
 I give to both your speeches. — which were such. 
 As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
 Should hold up high in brass; and such 4gain, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 517 
 
 As venerable Nestor, hntcti'd in sil\ er, 
 Should with a bond of air (strong as the axle-tree 
 On vvliich heaven rides,) knit iill the Greekish ears 
 'l"o his exjierfeiic'd tonf;iie, — yet let it please both, — 
 Thou nieat, — and wise, — to hear Ulysses speak. 
 
 At/tit/i. Speak, priuce of Ithaca ; and be't of less 
 expect 
 That matter needless, of importless burden, 
 Divide tliy lips; than we are confident, 
 When rank Thersites opes his niastilt'javvs, 
 We shall heHt music, wit, and oracle. 
 
 U/t/xs. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, 
 And the great [lector's sword liad lack'd a master. 
 But for these instances. 
 The specialty of rule hath been nes^lected : 
 And, look, how many Greciasi tents do stand 
 Hollow upon tliis plaui, so many hollow factions. 
 When tiiat the general is not like the hive. 
 To whom the foragers sliail all repair. 
 What honey is ex|>ected ^ Des^ree being vizarded. 
 The unworthiest siiews as fairly in llie mask. 
 The heavens themseUes, tiie planets, and this centre. 
 Observe degree, priority, and place, 
 Insisture, course, i)roportion, season, form. 
 Office, and custom, in all line of order : 
 And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol, 
 In noble eminence enthroii'd and spher'd 
 Amidst the other; whose niedcinable eye 
 Corrects tJie ill aspects of planets evil, 
 And posts, like the commandment of a king. 
 Sans check, to good and bad : liut, when the planets, 
 In evil mixture, to disorder wander, 
 What plagues, and what portents ■' w Imt mutiny ? 
 What raging of the sea.'' shaking of eanh ? 
 Commotion in the winds .'* flights, changes, horrors. 
 Divert and crack, rend and deracinate 
 The unity and married calm of states 
 Quite from tlieir fixture ? O, when degree is shak'd, 
 Which is the ladder of all high designs. 
 The enterprise is sick I How could communities, 
 Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities. 
 Peaceful commerce trom dividaiile shores. 
 The primogenitive and due of birth. 
 Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels. 
 But by degree, stand in authentic place 'I 
 Take but degree away, untune tliat string. 
 Arid, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets 
 la mere oppiignancy : The bounded waters 
 Siiouid lift their bosoms higher than the shores. 
 And make a sop of all this solid globe ; 
 Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
 .And the rude son should strike his father dead : 
 Farce should be right; or, rather, right and wrong 
 (Between whose endless jar justice resides,) 
 iShoi.ld lose their names, and so should justice too. 
 Then every thing includes itself in power. 
 Power info will, will into appetite ; 
 And appetite, an universal wolf. 
 So doubly seconded with will and power. 
 Must make perforce an universal prey, 
 And, last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, 
 'I'his chaos, when degree is suffocate. 
 Follows the choking. 
 And this neglection of degree it is. 
 That by a p.ice goes backward, with a purpose 
 It liafli to climb. The general's disdain'd 
 By iiiin one step below ; he, by the next; 
 That next, by liirn beneath ; so every step, 
 Exainpled by the first pace, that is sick 
 Of his sii|ierii)r, grows to an envious fever 
 Ol pale and bloodless emulation : 
 And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot. 
 Nut her own sinews. To end a tale of length, 
 Tr'iy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. 
 
 I^est. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd 
 The fever whereof all our power is sick. 
 
 Again. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, 
 \\ hit is the remedy ? 
 
 Uljss. 'I iie great .Achilles, — whom opinion crowns 
 The smew and the forehand of our host, — 
 
 Having his ear full of his airy fame 
 
 Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent 
 
 Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus 
 
 Upon a lazy bed, the live long day ' 
 
 Breaks scnrril jests ; 
 
 And with ridiculous and awkward action 
 
 (Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,) 
 
 He pageants us. Sometime, great Agameniiiof, 
 
 1 by topless deputation he puts on ; 
 
 And, like a strutting player, — whose conceit 
 
 Lies in his hamstring, and doth tJiink it rich 
 
 To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
 
 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaftoldage,— 
 
 Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming 
 
 He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks, 
 
 'Tis like a chime a-mendin^; with terms unsquar'd, 
 
 Which, from the tongue o< roaring Typhon dropp'd. 
 
 Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff. 
 
 The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling. 
 
 From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ; 
 
 Cnes— Excellent !— 'tis Agamea^non just.— 
 
 Now play me Nestor;— Aem, and stroke thy beard, 
 
 As he, being 'drest to some oration. 
 
 That's done ;— as near as the extremest ends 
 
 Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife : 
 
 \etgood Achilles still cries. Excellent. 
 
 "Tis Nesfor right ! Now play him me, Patroclus, 
 
 Arming to answer in a night alarm. 
 
 And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 
 
 Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough, and spit, 
 
 And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, 
 
 Shake in and out the rivet :— .\nd at tiiis sport. 
 
 Sir Valour dies; cries, 0! enough, Patroclus;— 
 
 Or give me ribs of steel'. I shall split all 
 
 In pleasure of my spleen. And in this fashion 
 
 All our abilities, gilts, natures, shapes, 
 
 Severals and generals of grace exact. 
 
 Achievements, plots, orders, preventions. 
 
 Excitements to the field, or speech fm- truce. 
 
 Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
 
 As stuff fior these two to make paradoxes. 
 
 Nest. And iu the imitation of these twain 
 (Whom, as Uly.sses says, opinion crowns; 
 VVith an imperial voice,) many are infect. 
 Ajax is grown self-willed ; and bears his lit ad 
 In such a rein, in full as proud a |)lace 
 As broad Achilles: keeps his tent like him; 
 Makes factious feasts : rails on our state of war. 
 Bold as an oracle : and sets Thersites 
 (.\ slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,) 
 To match us in comparLsons with dirt; 
 To weaken and discredit our exposure. 
 How rank soever rounded in with danger. 
 
 Vlyss. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice : 
 Count vvisdcm as no member of the war ; 
 Forestall prescience, and esteem no act 
 But thatof hand: the still and mental parts,— 
 That do contrive how many hands shall strike. 
 When fitness calls them on ; and know, by nu asure 
 Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight, — 
 Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: 
 Thev call this — bed-work, mappery, closttwar : 
 So that the ram, that batters down tlie wall, 
 For the great swing and rudeness of his j^oize, 
 Thev place before his hand, that made the engine 
 Or those, that with the fineness of their soiiis 
 By reason guide his execution. 
 
 Nest. Let this be granted, and .\cliilles' horse 
 Makes many 'i'hetis' sons. ^Trumpet sounds., 
 
 Agam. \Vhat trumpet ? look, Menehus. 
 
 Enter .iEneas. 
 Men. From Trov. 
 Agam. What would vou 
 
 Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray ? 
 
 Agam. Eien this 
 
 jiine. May one, that is a herald, and 
 Do a fair nit:ssage to his kingly ears / 
 
 Agam. VS'ith surety stronger than AchilleB' arm 
 
 ore our tent. 
 is tliis 
 
 a princ«. 
 
518 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 'Fore al) tlic Greekisli lifads, which witli one voice 
 C'a, I Asarrieninori head and general. 
 
 JEne. Fair leave, and large security. How may 
 A stranger to tliose most imperial looks 
 Know them from eyes of other mortals ? 
 Ar/am. How ? 
 
 yEne. Ay ; 
 I ask, that 1 might waken reverence. 
 And bid the cheek be ready with a binsh. 
 Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
 The youthful Phoebus ; ' ^ 
 
 VViiich is that god in office, guiding iiien? 
 Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ? 
 
 Again. This Trojan scorns us ; or the men of Troy 
 Are ceremonious courtiers. 
 
 jEne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, iinarni"d. 
 As bending angels; that's their fame in i)eace : 
 But when they would seem soldiers, tiiey hiive galls, 
 Oood arms, strong joints, true swords ; a'nd Jove's 
 
 accord. 
 Nothing so full of heart. Bui peace, i'Eneas, 
 Peace, Trojan ; lay thy finger on thy li|)s! 
 The worthiness of praise distains his worth, 
 If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth : 
 But what the repining enemy commends, 
 'i'hat breath fame follows; that prr.ise, sole pure, 
 transcends. 
 Agam, Sir, yon of Troy, call you yourself 
 
 iEneas ? 
 ^ne. Ay, Greek, that is my name. ' 
 
 Again, What's your alfair, I pray yon '? 
 
 u^ne. Sir, pardon ; 'tis for Agamenmon's ears. 
 Agam. He hears nought privately, that comes 
 
 from Troy. 
 jEne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him : 
 I bring a trumpet to awake his ear ; 
 To set his sense on the attentive bent, 
 And then to speak. 
 
 Aganu Speak frankly as the wind ; 
 
 It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour : 
 That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake, 
 He tells thee so himself. 
 
 ^Ene. . Trumpet, blow loud, 
 
 Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; — 
 And every Greek of mettle, let him know, 
 VV^hat Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud. 
 
 {Trumpet soiauh.) 
 We have, great AgamemT)on, here in 'I'roy 
 A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,) 
 Who in this dull and long-continued truce 
 Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet. 
 And to tliis purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords ! 
 If tiiere be one, among the fair'st of Greece, 
 'I'hat holds his honour higher than his ease ; 
 That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril; 
 'I'hat knows his valour, and knows not his fear ; 
 "Tiiat luves his mistress more than in conl'tssion, 
 (With truant vows to her own lips he loves,) 
 •And dare avow her beauty and her wortii, 
 In other arms than hers, — to him this chiillengf. 
 Hector, in view of Trojans and of (rieeks. 
 Shall make it good, or do his best to do it ; 
 He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, 
 Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ; 
 And will to-morrow with his trumpet call, 
 Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy, 
 To rouse a Grecian that is true in love : 'i-^n:', lO 
 If any come, H-ctor shall honour hlrn; '-' 
 
 If none, he'll sty in Troy, when he retires. 
 The Grecian dailies are sun-burn'd. and not worth 
 Tlie siiliuter ula lance^ Even so much. 
 
 Agam. 'r\\\% shall be told our lovers, lord jEaeas; 
 If none of them have soul in such a kind, 
 We left them all at home : But we are soldiers^: 
 Anil may that soldier a mere recreant prove, 
 'ih.U means noi, hath nut, or is nut in lo\e 1 
 il'tlien line is, or hath, or means to be. 
 That one mret< Hector; if none else, I am he, 
 
 iVcs/. 'J'ell him of Nestor, one tliat was .i man 
 \\ iic-ii Hector's grandsire suck'd lie iii old n.)W ; 
 
 But, if there he not in our Grecian host 
 One noble man. that hath one spark of fiie 
 To answer for his love, Tell him from me, — 
 I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver. 
 And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn; 
 And, meeting him, will tell him, that my lady 
 Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste 
 As may be in the world: His youtli in flood, 
 I'll prove thi? truth with my three drops of blood. 
 A^lne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth ! 
 Ulyss. Amen. 
 
 Agam. Fair lord iEneas, let me touch your hand ; 
 To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. 
 Achilles shall have word of this intent; 
 So sh.ill each lord of Greece, from tent to tent; 
 Yourself shall feast with us before you go. 
 And find the welcome of a noble foe. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Uhjsses ami Nesfot^ 
 Ultjss. Nestor, — '[ 
 
 Nest. What says Ulysses? ' 
 
 Uhj.is. 1 have a young conception in my brain, 
 Be vou my time to bring it to some shape. 
 AW. What is't; 
 Ulyss. Til is 'tis : 
 Biimt wedges rive hard knots: The seeded pride '!' 
 That hath to this maturity blown up ' ''^ 
 
 In rank Achilles, must or now be rropp'd, ', 
 
 Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like e\il, 
 To overbulk us all. 
 
 Nest. Well, and how ? 
 
 Ulyss. This challenge, that the g-illanl Hector 
 sends. 
 However it is spread in [general name, ' 
 
 Relates in purpose only to Achilles. [stanc^j 
 
 Nest. 'I'he purpose is perspicuous even as sub- 
 Whose grossness little characters smn up: 
 And, in the publication, make no strain, ".'. 
 
 But that Achiiles, were his br.iin hs barren 
 As banks of Lybia,— though, Apoilo knows, •' 
 
 'Tis diy enough, — will, with great speed of judg- 
 ment, ' < I : t 
 Ay, with celerity, find Hector's p'irpose ' ' 
 Pointing on him. 
 
 Ulyss. And wake him io the answer, think you? 
 Nest. Yes, ;'"•'' 
 
 It is most meet ; whom n>ay you else eppo-ie, ' ' ■'' 
 That can from Hector bring those hoimurs olf. 
 If not Adiiiles'^ Tlioiigh't be !j,sportliil cninhat, 
 Vet in the trial much opiaiou dwells; ■>- i-l 
 
 For here the Trojans taste our dear'st rep ite '' •■<''• 
 Witli their nn'st palate : And trust to ms, Ulysses^ 
 Our imputatiiin shall he oddly pcjis'd 
 In this wild artion: for the success, 
 AUhonsjh jiarticnlar, shall give a scantling 
 Of good or bad unto the general ; 
 And in such indexes, although small pricks 
 To their subs'quent volumes, there is seen ■ 
 
 The baby rt.;ure of the giant mass 
 Ot thi:i;;3 to come at large, it is suppOs'd, 
 He, that meets Hector, issues troui our choice. 
 And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, 
 Alakes merit her election ; and doth boil, 
 As 'twere from (orth us all, a man distill'd 
 Out of our virtues ; Who miscarrying. 
 What heart receives Irom hence a conquering part. 
 To steel a strong opinion to themselves :* 
 Which eirteitaind, limbs are his instruments, 
 In ho less working, than are swords and bows 
 Diri^ctive by the hiribs. 
 
 Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech : — 
 Therefore, 'tis meet. Achilles meet not Hector. 
 Let us, like merchauta, shew our foulest wares, 
 And tliink, perchance, they'll sell; if not, 
 I'he lustre of Itie bettf r sliill exceed, 
 By shewing the worse first. Do not consent. 
 That ever Hector and Achiili-s meet; 
 For both our honour and our sliamc, in this. 
 Are dogg'd with two strange followers. [ihey? 
 
 Nt'sl. 1 see them not with my old eyes; what are 
 I//^As.\Vhatglory our Achilles shares IVom Hector, 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 519 
 
 Were he not proud, vve all should share with him; 
 
 But he already is too insolent ; 
 
 And we were better parch in Afric sun. 
 
 Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 
 
 Slioiild he 'scape Hector fair : If he were foii'd, 
 
 W'iiy, tlien we did our main opinion crush 
 
 In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery; 
 
 And, bv device, let blockish Ajax draw 
 
 The sort to fight v/ith Hector; Among ourselves. 
 
 Give him allowance for the better man. 
 
 For tl)at will physic the great Myrmidon, 
 
 Who broils in loud applause; and make himfftU 
 
 His crest, that prouder than blue Iris b?n4s- , 
 
 If tlie dull brainless Ajax come safe off. 
 
 We'll dress him up in voices: If he fail, 
 
 Yet go we under our opinion still 
 
 That we have better men. But, hit or miss, 
 
 Qur project's life tl)is shape of^sensg assumes, — • 
 
 ^jax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes. 
 
 Nest. Ulysses, 
 Now I beyin to relisli thy advice; 
 And I will give a taste of it forthwith 
 To Agamemuon; go we to him strai^^ht. 
 Two curs shall tauie each other: Pride alone 
 Must tarre the ijiastilfs on, as 'twere their bone. 
 
 [Exeu»i. 
 ACT II. , 'i;-i"..^v'ii 
 
 Scene I.— Another jiari of the Grecian Caiiip. 
 
 xj i^ Enter Ajax «wfl? Thersites. 
 
 Ajax. Thersites, — 
 
 Thvr. Agamemnon — how if lie had boils? full, all 
 aex, gtnerally? ' • ' ' '■ ' ' .' ' 
 
 Ajax. 'i'hersites,^ ' ' '' |. 
 
 Tker. A nd those boils did run ?— ^Say sb',— did "not 
 die genenilrun then ? were not that a bbtchy core^/ 
 Ajax. Dog,— • 
 
 Ther. Then would come some' matter from hin>',; 
 I see none now. . ; 
 
 Ajax. Thou bitch-wolPs son, canst thou hot 
 hear ? Feel then. - [Strikes him,) 
 
 Ther. The plague of Greeq^ U|«)tt thee, thou 
 tnongiel beef-witt'fd lord ! ' ' .' 
 
 Ajax. Speak then, thou unsalted fea\'e'n, sj)6ak : 
 I'll beat thee into handsouieneaa, 
 
 Thvr. 1 ^hall sooner rail thee into w>t and holi- 
 ness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con fen 
 onition, than thou learn a prayer without book, 
 'i'liou canst strike, canst thou? a red nmVruin o'lliy 
 jade's tricks ! ■ •' ■ • ' 
 
 Ajax. 'i'oads-stool, learn me the procilhVnation. 
 Th^r. Dost tliou think, I have no st?nse, tliOu 
 strik'st me thus ? -■ ' ' 
 
 Ajax. The proclamation, — '■' .■-' vJ-'sy.iii / 
 
 Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, i think,- ' ' ' 
 Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not; my lingers itc'ii. 
 Ther. 1 woiild thou didst itch Ironi head to loot, 
 and 1 had the scratcliing of tuee; I would make thee 
 the loathsomest scab in Greece. VVhen thooart lorth 
 in the iiicm-sions, thou stnkestas slow as anotlier. 
 Ajax. 1 s;iy, the proclamation, — 
 Tker. Tlioii gruuiblest and railest every hour oii I 
 Achilles; and tlioii art as full of envy at lis great- | 
 tiess, as CerberliS is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that 
 thou barkest at him. ' n .i|. i i . 
 
 Ajax. Mistress Thersites I .wA^- 
 
 Ther. Thou should'st strike himi 'i ♦<»ip V'm ■- II 
 Ajax. Cobloaf ! '' ' ' '•' ' :-"i''>"ii Inm it >i'V, 
 T/ier He would piln thee into 'shlveiis witir his 
 fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. - 
 
 Ajax. V'ou whoreson cur 1 ■ ■••{Beating him.) 
 
 Ther. Do, do. '■ : w .v >^. ,' .i ,i . .' 
 
 Ajax. Thou stool for a witcli I " ■' ■ '■ ' 
 
 Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden -wilted lord'! thoii 
 
 hast no more brain than 1 ha\e in mine elhovvs ; an 
 
 assinego may tiitiir tiiee : Thou scurvy \aliant assi 
 
 thou art here put to thrash Trojatis; and ihuu art 
 
 bought and sold among those of any wit, like a 
 
 Barbarian slave. If tiiou use to beat me, I will 
 
 begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches 
 thou thing oj no bowels, thou ! ... 
 
 mil! i» r 
 
 Ajax. You dog.' 
 Ther. You scurvy lord ! 
 
 Ajax. \oyic\ir\lBeating him.).,. , . , ., , 
 
 Ther. Mars his idiotldv, rudeness; do^ camel: 
 
 £?(/er Achilles ««a? Patroclus. \' '' 
 . Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do you 
 
 tlius '! 
 How now, Thersites ? whsit's the matter, man ? 
 
 Ther. You see hiui there, do you '!■ 
 
 Achil. Ay; what's the matter? 
 
 Ther. Nay, look u|)on liini. 
 
 Achil. So I do; What's the matter? 
 
 Ther. Nay, but regard him well. ,! 
 
 -4cM. Well, why I do so. 
 
 Ther. But yet you look nut well uppn liim ; for, 
 whosoever you take hiu) to be, he is Ajas, ' 
 
 Achil. I know that, fool. ' i, v •. \ 
 
 Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not hiraselCu ti 
 
 Ajafc. 'J herefore. I heat tiire. ' '; ,,!,,? 
 
 Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums' of wit he 
 jitters! his evasions have ears thus long. I hav« 
 bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones; 
 I will buy nine spai rows for a penny, and his pia 
 mater is not worth the ninth part of a spariovy. 
 This lord, Achilles, Ajax,— who wears his wit ia 
 his belly, and his guts in his hpad,— Pil t«ll you 
 what I say of him. .' ' '7 " ',' , '^^ '^"^ "^ ' - 
 
 Achil. What? '" ■ :' ';;"""' ''■'■) ■;•■'•■'•'■■ ';""^:,:; 
 
 Ther. I say, this Ajaxr^^^' ";;''' '" '■";"r'^*,;"',!. 
 
 Achil. Nay, good Ajax; ■•" /"'* ;' ""'■''' "" ' ' 
 (Ajax njjers to strike him, Achilles interposes^ 
 Iher. lias not so much wit— ' '. , , 
 
 Achil. Nay, I must hold yoiu "''l' ''^ '' ' -:' ''''.'J 
 Ther. As will sh»p the eye! 'of HTei.en's needle 
 for whom he comes to figliL 
 
 Achil. Peace, fool! ' ' ' ■ 
 
 Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the 
 fool will not : he there ; tlwt he ; look yoii there. 
 
 Ajax. O thou damned cur! I siiall — ' '-,- 
 
 Achil. VV ill you SHt yoiir wit to a fool's ? 
 
 Ther. No, I warrant yoii ; I'or a fool's will shamejt,; 
 
 P«/'r. Good words, Tliersites. 
 
 .4c//z7. What's the quarrel? ' 
 
 Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the tenoiir 
 of tlie proclamation, and he rails upon me. 
 
 Ther. I serve thee not. 
 
 Ajax. Well, goto, go to. 
 
 Ther. I ser\e here voluntary. 
 
 Achil. Your last service was sufferahce, 'twas b(Jt 
 voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary : Ajax Was 
 here the voluntary, and you as under an impress, ' 
 
 Ther. Even so ? — a g:reat d^al of your wit too 
 lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector 
 shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of 
 your brains ; 'a were as good crack a fusty nut with 
 no kernel. ■" '■ ' '■' "' 
 
 Achil. What, with me t66V Thelites? "*'"'' "" f 
 
 7yi«r. There's UlysSes arid old Nestor,^ — whose 
 wit was mouldy, ere yOnr gratidsires had nails on 
 their toes, — yoke you like draught Oxen, and make 
 you plough up the wni-sl ' '" ' "• ' " ■, 
 
 Achil. What, what?' ■'■ ' ' '-'■■ ' ' ' - ''' i ' 
 
 Ther.\>!^, good sooth ; T", Achi'lle^'! to',- Ajax' ! to! 
 ' ijJiSf.r. I shall cut out your tongue'. • i 
 '•' l'her."V'\-i no matter; 1 shali speak as m'lich al9 
 thou, afieruards. '■' 
 
 Patr.No more words, Thersites ;'pe3<Je;ii'' ■'!' -';' 
 
 Ther. 1 will hold my peace, when Achilles' brach 
 bids me, shall I ? 
 ^(■A;7. 'I'liere's for you, Patroclus. 
 
 Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I 
 coiue any more to your tents ; I will keep wherethere 
 is wit stirring, ami lenVe the (action of fools. [Exit. 
 
 Pair. A good riddance. 
 
 Achil. Marry, tliis, sir, is proclaimed through all 
 our liost. 
 
520 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 That Hector, by the first hour of the sun. 
 Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy, 
 To-morrow n»orning Ciill some knight to arms, 
 That hath a stomach ; and such a one, that dare 
 Maintain — I know not what; 'tis trash : Farewell. 
 
 Xjax. Farewell. Who shall answer him ? 
 
 Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery ; otherwise. 
 He knew liis man. 
 
 Ajax. O, meaning you : — I'll go learn more of 
 it. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScENB II. — Troy. A Room in Prtam'$ Palace. 
 
 Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and 
 
 Helenus. 
 
 Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent. 
 Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks ; 
 Deliver Helen, and all damage else^ 
 As honour, loss of time, travel, expanse, 
 Wounds, friends, ana what else dear that is 
 
 consum'd 
 In hot digestion of this cormorant war, — 
 Shall be struck off: — Hector, what say you to't? 
 
 Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks 
 than T. 
 As far as toucheth my particular, yet, 
 Dread Priam, 
 
 There is no lady of more softer bowels. 
 More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, 
 More ready to cry out — Who hnotvs what folloivs ? 
 Than Hector is : The woimd of peace is surety. 
 Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd 
 The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
 To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go : 
 Since the first sword was drawn about this question, 
 Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes. 
 Hath been as dear as Helen ; 1 mean, of ours : 
 If we have lost so many tents of ours. 
 To guard a thing not ours ; not worth to us, 
 Had it our name, the value of one ten ; 
 What merit's in that reason, which denies 
 Tlie yielding of her up? 
 
 Tro. Fy, fy, ray brother I 
 
 Weigh you the worth and honour of a king. 
 So great as our dread father, in a scale 
 Of common ounces? will you with counters sum 
 The past-proportionof his infinite? 
 And buckle-in a waist most fathomless. 
 With spans and inches so diminutive 
 As fears and reasons ? fy, for godly shame ! 
 
 Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at 
 reasons. 
 You are so empty of them. Should not our father 
 Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons. 
 Because your speech hath none, that tells him so? 
 
 'fro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother 
 priest, 
 You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your 
 
 reasons : 
 You know, an enemy intends you harm ; 
 You know, a sword, employ'd, is perilous, 
 And reason flies the object of all harm : 
 Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds 
 A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
 The very wings of reason to his heels; 
 And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
 Or like a star dis-orb'd ? — Nay, if we talk of reason. 
 Let's shutourgates, and sleep : Manhood and honour 
 Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their 
 
 thoughts 
 With this cramm'd reason : reason and respect 
 Make livers pale, and lustihood deject. 
 
 Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost 
 The holding. 
 
 Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued ? 
 
 Hect. But value dwells not in particular will ; 
 It holds its estimate and dignity 
 As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
 As in the prizer : His mad idolatry. 
 To make the service greater than the god ; 
 And the will dotes, that is attributive 
 
 To what infectiously itself affects, 
 Without some imiiue of the afi'ected merit. 
 
 Tro. 1 take to-day a wife, and my election 
 Is led on in the conduct (if my will; 
 3Iy will enkindled by mine eyes and ears. 
 Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
 Of will and judgment : How may I avoid. 
 Although my will distate what it elected. 
 The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion 
 To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour; 
 We turn not b.tck the silks upon the merchants, 
 When we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder viands 
 We do not throw in unrespertive sieve. 
 Because we now are full. It was thought meet, 
 Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks : 
 Your breath with full consent bellied his sails ; 
 The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, 
 And did him service : he tonch'd the ports desir'd; 
 And, for an old aunt, whom thf Greeks iie id captive. 
 He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and 
 
 freshness 
 Wrinkles Apollo's and makes pale tlie morning. 
 Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt : 
 Is she worth keeping ? wliy, she is a pearl. 
 Whose price hatn launch'd above a thousand ships. 
 And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. 
 If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, 
 
 iAs you must needs, for you all cry'd — Go, go,) 
 f you'll confess, he brought himie noble prize, 
 (As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands 
 And cry'd — Inestimable .') why do you now 
 The issue of your proper wisdom rate ; 
 And do a deed that fortune never did. 
 Beggar the estimation which you priz'd 
 Richer than sea and land ? O theft most base ; 
 That we have stolen what we do fear to keep ! 
 But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen. 
 That in their country did them that disgrace. 
 We fear to warrant in our native place \ 
 
 Cas. {Within.) C<ry, TmyAUs, cry \ 
 
 Pri. Wiiat noiie ? what shriek is this? 
 
 Tro. 'Tisourmad sister, I do know her voice, 
 
 Cas. {Within.) i^ry, Trojans ! 
 
 Hect. It is Cassandra. 
 
 Enter Cassandra, raving. 
 
 Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry, lend me ten thousand eyes. 
 And I will fill them with prophetic tears. 
 
 Hect. Peace, sister, peace. 
 
 Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled 
 elders. 
 Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry. 
 Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes 
 A moiety of that mass of moan to come. 
 Cry, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears. 
 Troy must not be, nor goodly Uion stand ; 
 Our fire-brand brother, Paris, burns us all. 
 Cry, Trojans, cry ! a Helen, and a woe: 
 Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit 
 
 Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high 
 Of divination in our sister work [straius 
 
 Some touches of remorse? oris your blood 
 So madly hot, that no discourse of reason. 
 Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause. 
 Can qualify tiie same ? 
 
 Tro. Why, brotlier Heclor, 
 
 We may not think the justness of each act 
 Such and no other than event doth form it ; 
 Nor once deject the courage of our minds, 
 Because Cassandra's mad : her brain sick raptures 
 Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel, 
 Which hath our several honours all engag"d 
 To make it gracious. For my private part, 
 I am no more tonch'd than all Priam's sons : 
 And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us 
 Such things, as might offend the weakest spleen 
 To fight for and maintain ! 
 
 Par. Else might the world convince of le\ity 
 As well my undertakings, as your counsels : 
 But I attest the gods your full consent 
 
SCEN'E 3. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 521 
 
 Save winfjs to my propeiislon, and cut off 
 All fe.Trs attendinof on so dire a project. 
 Ftr what, alas, can these my siiifile arms ? 
 Wliat propngnation is in one man"s valour, 
 To stand the push and enmity of those 
 This quarrel would excite ? V'et, I protest, 
 Were I alone to pass the difliciilties. 
 And h:id as ample power as I have will, 
 Vw'.a should ne'er retract what he hath dc^ne, 
 Nor faint iu'the pursuit. 
 
 PrL Paris, you speak 
 
 Like one besotted on your sweet deligjhts : 
 You have the honey still, but these the gall ; 
 So to be valiant is no praise at all. 
 
 Par, Sir, I propose not merely to myself 
 The pleasures such a beauty brings with it ; 
 But I would have the soil of her fair rape 
 Wip'd olf, in honourable keeping her. 
 VVhat treason were it to the ransacked queen, 
 Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, 
 Now to deli\er her possession up 
 On terms of base compulsion ? Can it be, 
 That so degenerate a strain as this 
 Should once set footing in your generous bo.soms ? 
 There's not the meanest spirit on our party. 
 Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw, 
 When Helen is defended ; nor none so noble. 
 Whose life were ill bestow'd. or death unfam'd, 
 Wliere Helen is (he subject : then, I say. 
 Well may we tight for her, whom, we know well. 
 The world's large spaces cannot parallel. 
 
 Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both said well ; 
 And on the cause and question now in hand 
 Have gloz'd, — but superficially ; not much 
 Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought 
 Unfit to hear moral philosophy : 
 The reasons, you allege, do more conduce 
 To the hot passions of distemper'd blood, 
 Than to make up a free determination 
 Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge 
 Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
 Of any true decision. Nature craves 
 All dues be render'd to their owners; Now, 
 What nearer debt in all humanity. 
 Than wife is to the husband ? if this law 
 Of nature be corrupted through affection; 
 And that great minds, of partial indulgence 
 To their benumbed wills, resist the same ; 
 There is a law in each well order'd nation. 
 To curb those raging appetites that are 
 Most disobedient and refractory. 
 If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, — 
 As it is known she is, — these moral laws 
 Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud 
 To ha\ e her back return'd : Thus to persist 
 In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong. 
 But makes it much more heavy. Hector'.s o^nnion 
 Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ertheless, 
 My spritely brethren, I propend to you 
 In resolution to keep Helen still. 
 For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance 
 Upon our joint and several dignities. 
 
 Tro. Why, there you touch'dthe life of our design : 
 Were it not glory that we more affected 
 Thau the performance of our heaving spleens, 
 I would not wish a drop of Tr^yan blood 
 Spent more in het defence. But, worthy Hector, 
 she is a theme of honour and renown ; 
 A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds 
 Whose present courage may beat down our foes. 
 And fame, in time to come, canonize us : 
 For, ] pi;esun\e, brave Hector would not lose 
 So rich advantage of a promis'd glory. 
 As smiles upon the forehead of this action, 
 For the wide world's revenue. 
 
 Hcct. I am yours, 
 
 You valiatit offspring of great Priamus. — 
 [ have a roisting challenge sent amongst 
 The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks, 
 Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits : 
 
 I was advertisVl, tneir great general slept. 
 
 Whilst emulation in the army crept; 
 
 This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. — The. Grecian Camp. Before Achilles 
 Tent. 
 
 Enter Thersites, 
 Ther. How now, Thersites ? what, lost in the 
 labyrinth of thy fury ? Shall the elephant Ajax carry 
 it thus ? he beats me, and I rail at him : O worthy 
 satisfaction ! 'would it were otherwise ; that I could 
 beat him, whilst he relaid at me : 'Sfoot, I'll learu 
 to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue 
 of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, 
 — a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two 
 undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall 
 of themselves O thou great thunder- darter of 
 Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of 
 gods ; and. Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of 
 thy Caduceus ; if ye take not that little little less- 
 than-little wit from them that they liave ! which 
 short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant 
 scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from 
 a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and 
 cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the 
 whole camp I or, rather, the bone-ache! for that, 
 methinks, is the curse dependant on those that war 
 for a placket. I have said my prayers ; and devil, 
 envy, say amen. What, ho ! my lord Achilles ! 
 
 Enter Patkoclus. 
 
 Patr. Who's there ? Thersites ? Good Thersites, 
 come in and rail. 
 
 Ther. If I could ha' e remembered a gilt counter- 
 feit, thou woiddest no. have slipped out of my con- 
 templation : but it is n.i matter: Thyself upon thy- 
 self! The common curse of mankind, folly and 
 ignorance, be thine in great revenue I heaven bless 
 thee from a tutor, and disciple come not near thee ! 
 Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death I then 
 if she, that lays thee out, says — thou art a fair corse, 
 I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she never'shrouded 
 any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? 
 
 Patr, What, art thou devout ! Wast thou in 
 
 Tfier. Ay; the heavens hear me! [prayer? 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 
 Achil. Who's there ? 
 
 Patr. Thersites, my lord. 
 
 Achil, Wliere, where? — Art thou com?? Why, 
 my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served 
 thyself in to my table so many meals? Come ; what's 
 Agamemnon ? 
 
 Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ; — then tell me, 
 Patroclus, what's Achilles ? 
 
 Patr. Thy lord, Thersites ; Then tell me, I pray 
 thee, what's thyself. 
 
 Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus; Then tell me, 
 Patroclus, what art thou ? 
 
 Patr. Thou mayest tell, that knowest. 
 
 Achil. O tell, tell. 
 
 Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamem- 
 non commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord ; I am 
 Patroclus* knower; and Patroclus is a Ibol. 
 
 Patr. Vou rascal ! 
 
 Ther. Peace, fool ; I have not done. [sites. 
 
 Achil, He is a privileged man. — Proceed, Ther- 
 
 TAer. Agamemnon is a fuol; Achilles is a fool; Ther- 
 sites is a tool : and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. 
 
 Achil. Derive this ; come. 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command 
 Achilfes; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of 
 Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to serve such a 
 fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive. 
 
 Patr. Why am I a fool ? 
 
 Ther, INlake that demand of the prover. — It suf- 
 fices me, thou art. Look you, who comes here. 
 
 Enter Ag.vmemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Diomedes, 
 and Ajax. 
 Achil, Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody : — Come 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 in with nie, 1 nersites. _ [Exit. 
 
 Ther. Here is sucli patchery, siicli juggling, and 
 sncli knavery ! all the argunient is, a cuckold, and 
 a uliore ; a good quarrel, to draw emulous factions, 
 and to bleed to death npon. Now the dry serpigo on 
 the subject! and war, and lechery, coniound all ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 A'jani. Where is Achilles? ; • 
 
 Patr. AVithin his tent; but ill dispos'd, my lord. 
 
 A'jam. Let it be known to liini, that we are here. 
 He silent niir messengers ; and we lay by 
 Our appertitinnients, visiting ufliiui: 
 Ijt-t iiiin be told so; lest, perchance, he think 
 \V"e dare not move the question of our place, 
 Or know not what we are. 
 
 Patr. I shall say so to him. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Uiyss. We saw him at the .opening of his tentj: : 
 He is nut sick. 
 
 Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: yon 
 may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man ; 
 but, by my head, 'tis pride : But why, why :" let 
 liira shew us a cause. — A word, my lord. 
 
 (Takes Aijamemnon aside.) 
 
 Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him :" 
 
 Uiyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. 
 
 Nest. Who ■■• 'J'hersites ? 
 
 Ulyns. He. 
 
 Ntst. 'I'lien will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost 
 his argument. 
 
 Ulyss. ISo; you see, he is his a«s;ument, that has 
 his argument ; Achilles. 
 
 Nest. All the better; their fraction is more our 
 wish than their iaction : But it was a strong com- 
 posure, a foil could disunite. 
 
 Ulyss. The amity, that wisdom knits not, folly 
 Eiay easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. 
 
 Re-enter Patkoclus. 
 
 ^*i. No Achilles with him. 
 
 Ulyss. Tiie elephant hath joints, but none for 
 courtesy; his legs are legs i'or necessity, not for 
 flexure. 
 
 Patr. Aciiilles bids me say — .he is much sorry, 
 If any thing more than your sport and pleasure \ 
 Did move your greatness, and this noble state, 
 'J'o call upon hiui; he hopes, it is no other, 
 But, for yoin- health and your digestion sake. 
 An aftt r-dinner's breath. 
 
 Ayani. Hear you, Palroclus : — 
 
 We are too well acquainted with these answers: 
 But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, 
 Cannot outliy our apprehensions. 
 iMufh attribute he hath ; and much the reason 
 Wliy we ascribe it to him : yet all his virtues, — 
 Not virtuously on his own part beheld,^ 
 Do, in your eyes, begin to lose their gloss ; 
 ^ ea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish. 
 Are like to rot unstated. Go and tell him, 
 \\V come to speak with him; And you shall not sin, 
 H you do say — we think him over-proud. 
 And under honest; in self-assumption greater, 
 'i'haii in the note of judgment ; and worthier than 
 
 himself 
 Here tend the savage strant;eness lie puts on; 
 Disguise the holy strength of tiieir command. 
 And nuderurite in an observing kind 
 His humours predominance ; yea, watch 
 His pettish luhes, his ebbs, his flows, as if 
 The i-assagf and whole carriage of this action 
 Kode on his tide, (jo and tell him this ; and add, 
 That, if he overhold his price so much, 
 We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine 
 Not poitalilf, lie under this report — 
 Brills action hitlier, tiiis cannot go to war: 
 A stirring dwarf we do allowance give 
 Before a sleeping giant —Tell him so. 
 
 Patr. I shall; and bring his answer presently. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ayam. In second voice we'll Inot be satisfied, • 
 
 We come to speak with hi)ii. — Ulysses enter..; •»- 
 
 [Exit Ulystea, 
 
 Ajax. What is he more than another V 
 
 Ayam. No more tlian what he thinks he is. 
 
 Ajax. Is he so nuich ? Do you not think, he 
 thinks himself a better man than I am ^ 
 
 Afjam. No question. [he is ? 
 
 Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say — 
 
 Again. No, noble Ajax ; you are as strong, as 
 valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, 
 and altogether more tractable. 
 
 Ajax. Why should a man be proud ? How doth 
 pride grow ? I know not what pride is. 
 
 Again. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, andyoor 
 virtues the fairer. He, that is proud, eats up him- 
 self: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his 
 own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in 
 the deed, devours the deed in the praise. 
 
 Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engen- 
 dering of toads. ... 
 
 Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange ? 
 
 {Asidi.) 
 
 Re-enter Ulysses. 
 
 Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 
 
 Ayam. What's his excuse ? 
 
 Ulyss. He doth rely on none j 
 
 But carries on the stream of his dispose, 
 Without observance or respect of any, ' 
 
 In will peculiar and in self-admission. 
 
 Again. Why will he not, upon our fair request, 
 Untent his person, and share the air with us? 
 
 Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake 
 only, [ness ; 
 
 He makes important : Possess'd he is with great- 
 And speaks not to himself, but with a pride ■•'■' ' 
 That quarrels at self breath : imagin'd worth •' ' 
 Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse. 
 That, "twixt his mental and his active parts, 
 Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, 
 And batters down himself: What .should I say ? 
 He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it 
 Cry — No recovery. 
 
 Again. Let Ajax go to him. — • 
 
 Dear lord, go yon and greet him in his tent ; 
 ''I'is said, he holds you well ; and will beled, 
 At your request, a little from himself. ' • ,_ 
 
 Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so!' •''•'' ".', 
 We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax make^ . „ > 
 When they go from Achilles : Shall the proud lord, ; 
 That bastes liis arrogance with his own seam. 
 And never siitfeis matter of the world 
 Enter his thoughts, — save such as do revolve 
 And ruminate iiimself, — shall he be worshipp'd ' '": ' 
 Of that we hold an idol more than he ? 
 No, this thrice- woi thy and right- valiant lord ' 
 
 Must not so stain his palm, nobly acqnir'd; , 
 
 Nor, by my will, assiibjugate his merit, '; 
 
 As amply titled as Actulies is, '■■>■< • " ' 
 
 By going to Achilles: ' ^ ! 1 ., .-.J ct .■ | 
 
 That were to enlard his fa(-already pride ; 
 And add more coals to Cancer, when he bums 
 With entertaining great Hyperion. , 
 
 'I'his lord go to him I Jupiter forbid ; 
 And say in thunder — Achilles, go to him. , 
 
 Nest. O, this is well ; he rubs the vein of him. ' 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause ? 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Ajax. If 1 go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pash 
 Over the face. him 
 
 Again. O, no, yon shall not go. 
 
 Ajax. An he be proud with me. 111 plieeze his 
 Let me go to him. [pride : 
 
 Ulyss. Not fur the worth that hangs upon our 
 quarrel. 
 
 ^/rto.-. A paltry, insolent fellow! — 
 
 Nest. How he describes 
 
 Himself! " {Aside.} 
 
 Ajax. Can he not be sociable?' •■' "" 
 
Act III. ScKNE 1. 
 
 TKOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 523 
 
 Uci/ss. The raven 
 
 Ciiidt-s blackness. _ (Aside.) 
 
 Aj.tx. I will let his humours dIdocI. 
 
 A(jfj.m. He'll be physician, that should be the pa- 
 tient. [Aside.) 
 
 Ajax. An all men , :, 
 
 iVVit- (.'my mind, — 
 
 if/ijss. Wit would be out of fashion. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Ajax. He should not bear it so, 
 Hi' ■itnxild eat swords first: .Shall pride carry it? 
 
 Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. (Aside.) 
 
 Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. (Aside.) 
 
 /{Jax. I'll knead hiui, I'll make him supple : — 
 
 hest. He's not yet thorough warm : force him 
 witlj praises : 
 I'onr in, pour in ; his ambition is dry. (Aside.) 
 
 IT/i/ss. My lord, you feed too much on this dis- 
 like. (To Agamemnojt.) 
 
 S'l'sI. O noble general, do not do so. 
 
 iJw. You must prepare to (igiit without Achilles. 
 
 Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him 
 harm. 
 Here is a man — But 'tis before his face ; 
 i will be silent. 
 
 Nest. Wherefore should you so? 
 
 lie is not emulous, as Achilles is. 
 
 Ulyss. K-Dow the whole world, he is as valiant. 
 
 Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus 
 with us! 
 I would, he were a Trpjan ! 
 
 Nest. What a vice 
 
 Were it in Ajax now — 
 
 Ulyss. If he were proad ? 
 
 Dio. Or covetous of praise ? 
 
 Uli/ss. Ay, or surly borne? 
 
 Dto. Or strange, or self-affected ? 
 
 C7ys«. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet 
 composure ; 
 I'raise him that got thee, she that ga\e thee suck : 
 Fain'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
 'I'nrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition: 
 But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight. 
 Let I\i»rs divide eternity in twain, 
 And ;;ive him half: and, for thy vigour, 
 iiiili-bearing Milo his addition yield 
 'i'o sinewy Ajax. I'll not praise thy wisdom, 
 Wliicli, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines 
 Thy sj)aciou3 and dilated parts: Here's Nestor, — 
 Instructed by^he Antiquary times, 
 Hi^ must, he is, he cannot but be wise ;— ' 
 li;it pardon, father Nestor, were your days 
 As i;reen as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd, 
 Von sliould not have the eminence of him, 
 i'ut be as Ajax. 
 
 Ajax. Shall I call you father? 
 
 Nest. Ay, my good son. 
 
 Oiij. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. 
 
 Uiyss. T'lere is no tarrying ; here ; the hart 
 Achilles 
 Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
 'i\> call together all his state ot war; 
 Fresh kings are come to Troy ; To-morrow 
 We must with a'.l our main of power stand fast: 
 And here's a lord, — come kniglits from east to west. 
 And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope fhe l)est. 
 
 Ayam, Go we to council. Let Achilles ,;leep : 
 
 Liglit boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw 
 
 deep. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. 
 
 Enter Pandakus and a Servant. 
 
 Pan. Friend ! you ! piay you, a word : Do ivot 
 you fullow the young lord Pans? 
 
 Serv. Ay, sir, when fie goes before me. 
 
 Payi. You do depend upon him, I mean''' 
 
 Ser>j. .Sir, I do depend upon the lord. 
 
 Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman; 1 
 must ueedi praise hiiu. 
 
 Serv. The lord be praised . ., r ,; . ,r , j^. 
 
 Paw. You know nie, do you not?, ; : // ...,^\ 
 
 Serv. 'Faith, sir, supeitirially. ,i.;,., ,,,.-. .,, , . ,„ 
 
 Pan. Friend, know me hitler; I am the lord 
 Pandarus. 
 
 Serv. I hope I shall know your i.ynour 'oetter. 
 
 Pan. 1 do desire it. 
 
 Serv. You are iu a, state of grace. 
 
 ■ , : , (Music tvilkift.) 
 
 Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship 
 are my titles : — What music is this ? 
 
 SerVf I do but partly know, sir; it is music in 
 parts. 
 
 Pan. Know you the musicians ? 
 
 Serv. Wholly, sir. 
 
 Pan. Who play they to? 
 
 Serv. To the hearers, sir. 
 
 Pa7i. At whose pleasure, friend? 
 
 Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music*: 
 
 Pan. Command, I mean, friend. 
 
 Serv. VVlio shall I command, sir? 
 
 Pan. Friend, we understand not one aciolher; I 
 am too courtly, and thou art too cunning : At whose 
 reqiiest do these men play ? 
 
 Serv. 'i'liat's to't, indeed, sir : Marry, sir, at the 
 request of Paris my lord, who is there in peison ; 
 with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of 
 beauty, love's invisible soul, — 
 
 Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ? 
 
 Serv. No, sir, Helen ; Could you not find out 
 that by her attributt-s ? 
 
 Pari. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not 
 seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paiia 
 from the prince 'I'roilus : I will make a coiuplimeii- 
 tal assault u[)oii him, for my business seetiis. 
 
 Serv. Soddeu business! there's. a stevved phrase, 
 indeed .' . . i 
 
 Enter Paris and Helen, attended. 
 
 Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair 
 company ! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly 
 guide tlieni I especially to you, fair queen ? fair 
 thouc;hts be your fair pillow ! '^ 
 
 Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. 
 
 Pan.You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen.— 
 Fair prince, liere is good broken music. 
 
 Par. You have broke it, cousin: and, by my life, 
 you shall make it whole again ; you shall piece it 
 iiut with a piece of your performance: — Nell, he is 
 full of harmony. 
 
 Pan. Truly, lady, no. 
 
 Helen. O, sir, — 
 
 Pa7t. llude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rode. 
 
 Par. Well said, my lord ! well, you say so in hts. 
 
 Pa7i. I have business to my lord, dear queen : — 
 Mv lord, will you vouchsafe me a word i 
 
 "Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out : we'll 
 hear you sing, certainly. 
 
 Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are plea.sant with 
 me.— But (marry) thus, my lord, — ily dear lord, 
 and most esteemed friend, your bioUier 'I'roilus — 
 
 Helen. My lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord,— 
 
 Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to : — commends 
 himself most afiectionately to you. 
 
 Helen. You shall not boh us out of our meloily ; 
 If vou do, our melancholy u|ionyoiir head ! 
 
 Pati. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that's a sweet 
 queen, i'laith. 
 
 Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a 
 sour olfence. 
 
 Pan. Nay, (hat shall not serve your turn ; that 
 shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I eaie not for such 
 words; no, no. — And, my lord, he desires )ou, 
 that, il the king call for iiiin at supper, you wili 
 make his excuse. i , .i , , i, 
 
 Helen. My lord Pandarus, — .. i '■.■■. .,<. . i 
 
 Pan. What .-ays my sweet queen ? — my very 
 very sweet queen ' 
 
 Par. What exploit's in hand? where sujis h(' tu- 
 avAil ? 
 
524 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 Helen. Nay, but my lord, — 
 
 Pan. Wliiit says my sweet queen? — My cousin 
 will litll out with you. You must not know where 
 lie sups. 
 
 J'di: I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressi<?a. 
 
 Pa7i. No, no, no such matter, you are wide ; 
 come, your disposer is sick. 
 
 Par. Well, I'll make excuse. 
 
 Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say — 
 Cressida ? no, your poor disposer's sick. 
 
 Par. I spy. 
 
 Pan. You spy ! what do you spy? — Come, give 
 me an instrument. — Now, sweet qut-en. 
 
 Helen. Wliy, this is kindly done. 
 
 Pa?i. My niece is liorribly in love with a thing 
 you liHve, sweet queen. 
 
 Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not 
 my lord Paris. [twain. 
 
 Pan. He ! no, she'll none of him ; the two are 
 
 Helen. Falling in, after falling out, many make 
 them three. 
 
 Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of thisj I'll 
 slnir you a song now. 
 
 Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet 
 lord, tluiu h:ist a tine forehead. 
 
 Pan. Av, you may, you may. 
 
 Helen. Let thy song be love : this love will undo 
 us (ill. O, Cupid, Cu| id, Cuoid ! 
 
 Pan. Love ! av, tluit it shall, i'l'aith. 
 
 Par. Ay. good now, inw, love, nothing but love. 
 
 Pan. in good troth, it begins so: 
 
 Love. love. noiJmnj hut love, still more ! 
 
 For, oh. love's boiv 
 
 Shouts Luck and dos : 
 
 The shaft confounds 
 
 Not that it wounds, 
 But tickles still the sore. 
 
 These lovers cry — Oh ! oh ! they die ! 
 
 Yet that., which seems the ivound to kill, 
 Doth turn oh ! oh ! to ha '. ha I he ! 
 
 So dying love lives still : 
 Oh ! oh ! a while, hut ha I ha ! ha ! 
 Ok ! ok ! groans out for ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 {lev ho ! 
 
 Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of tiie nose. 
 
 I'or. He eats nothing but doves, love ; and that 
 breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets IkjI tiiouiilits, 
 and hot thongiits btget hot deeds, and hot deeds is 
 lo^e. 
 
 Pan. Is this the generation of love ? hot blood, 
 hot thoughts, and hot deeds':* — Why, tliey are vi- 
 pers: Is love a generation of vipers'.' Sweet lord, 
 wiio's a-lield to-dny "? 
 
 Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and 
 all the giillantry of Troy : I would fain have armed 
 to day, but my Nell would not have it so. How 
 chance my brother Tr(/ilus went not ? 
 
 Helen. He hangs the lip at something ; — you 
 know all, lord Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. — I long to 
 near how they sped to day. — \ ou'll temeinber 
 four brother's excuse ? 
 
 Par. To a hair. 
 
 Pa7i. Farewell, sweet queen. 
 
 Helen. Commend me to your niece. 
 
 Pan. .1 will, sweet queen. [Exit. 
 
 {A retreat sounded.) 
 
 Par. They are come from tield : let us to Priam's 
 hall, [yon, 
 
 To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo 
 'fo i.elp unarm our Hector: His stubborn buckles. 
 With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, 
 >IkiII more obey than to the edge of steel, 
 Or lo.oe of Greekish sinews ; you shall do more 
 Than nil the island kind's, disarm great Hector. 
 
 Helen. 'Twill make us prcuid to be his servant, 
 Paris: 
 Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty, 
 (.Jives us more palm in beauty than we have ; 
 
 Yea, overshines ours' if 
 
 Par. Sweet, ahove thought I love thee. \Exeuni, 
 
 Scene 11. — The same. Pandarus' Orchard. 
 
 Enter Pandauus and a Servant, vieetinij. 
 Ptni. How now ''. where's thy master ? at my 
 cou>.in Cressida's ? 
 
 Serv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him 
 thither. 
 
 Enter Troilus. 
 
 Pan. O, here he comes. — How now, how now '*. 
 
 Tro. Sirrah, walk oft". {Exit Servant. 
 
 Pan. Have you .seen my cousin ? 
 
 Tro. No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door, 
 Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks. 
 Staying for waftaue. O, be thou my Charon, 
 And give me swift transjiortance to those fields, 
 Where I may wallow ii: the lily beds 
 Pro))os'd fjr the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, 
 From Cupid's .shoulder pluck his painted xvings, 
 And fly with me to Cressid ! 
 
 Pan. Walk here i'the orchard, I'll bring her 
 strai-ht. [Exit. 
 
 Tro. I amgidily: expectation whirls me round. 
 The imiginary relish is so sweet, 
 'i'hat it enchants my sense; What will it be, 
 VV'hen that the watery palate tastes indeed 
 Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me ; 
 Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine. 
 Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness. 
 For the capacity of my ruder powers: 
 I fear it much ; and I rlo fear besides, 
 'I'liat I shall lose distinction in my joys; 
 As d<ith a battle, when they charge on heaps 
 The enemy flying. 
 
 Be-enter Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight : 
 you must be witty now. She does so blush, and 
 fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed 
 with a sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest 
 villain : — she fetches her breath as short as a iiew- 
 la'en sparrow. [Exit. 
 
 Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bo- 
 som : 
 ISly heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ; 
 .\nd all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
 Like vassalage et unawares encouut'ring 
 The eye of majesty. « 
 
 Enter Pandarus and Cressida 
 
 Pan. Come, come, what need you blush ? shame's 
 a baby. — Here she is now : swear the oaths now to 
 her, that you have sworn to me. — What, are you 
 gone again ? you must be watched ere you be made 
 tame, must you? Come your ways, come your 
 ways; an you draw backward, we'lhTJiit you I'ihe 
 fills. — Why do you not speak to her ? — Come, draw 
 this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas the 
 day, how loath you are to offend day-light ! an 
 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so ; rub on; 
 and kiss the mistress. How novv, a kis< in fee- 
 farm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. 
 Nov, you shall fight your hearts out, eie I i<art 
 you The falcon as the tercel, for all the thicks 
 i'the river : go to, go to. 
 
 Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady. 
 
 Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds : but 
 she'll bereave you of the deed too, if she call your 
 activity in question. What, billing again ? Here's. 
 —In witness whereof the parties interchange- 
 ably — 
 Come in, come in ; I'll go get a fire. ^ [Exit. 
 
 Cres. Will you walk, in, my lord '? 
 
 Tro. O Cressida, how often iiave I wished me 
 thus! [my lord ! 
 
 Cres. Wished, my lord ? — The gods grint ! — O 
 
 Tro. What should they craut? what makes tills 
 pretty abruptioii '/ What too ( nriou* dreg espies 
 my sweet lady in the fountain ofour love ? 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 52.J 
 
 Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears have 
 eyes I ■ _ [truly. 
 
 Tro. Fears make devils cherubim ; they never sne 
 
 Ores. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds 
 sfer footing than blind reason stumbling without 
 ar : To fear the worst, oft cures the worst. 
 
 Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear; in all 
 Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. 
 
 Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither? 
 
 Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings ; when we 
 vow to weep seas, live in lire, eat rocks, tame ti- 
 gers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise 
 iinpositiou enough, than for us to undergo any 
 
 an you take leave t:ll to 
 
 lady 
 
 difficidty imposed. This is the monstruos.ty 
 love, lady, — tiiat the will is infinite, and the execu- 
 tion contiued ; that the desire is boundless, and the 
 act a slave to limit. 
 
 Cres. They say, all lovers swear more perform- 
 ance tlian they are able, and yet reserve an ability 
 that they never perform ; vowing more than the 
 perfection of ten, and discharging less than the 
 tenth part of one. They that have tlie voice of lions, 
 and the act of hares, are they not monsters ? 
 
 7Vo. Are tliere such? such are not we; Praise 
 us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove ; our 
 head shall go bare, till merit crown it : no perfec- 
 tion in reversion shall liave a praise in present: we 
 will not name desert, before liis birth ; and, being 
 borUj his addition shall be humble. IV-w words to 
 fair laith ; Troilus shall be such to Cressid, as what 
 envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his truth; 
 and what truth can speak truest, not truer than 
 Troilus, 
 Cres, Will you walk in, my lord ? 
 
 Re-enter Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. What, blushing still ? have you not done 
 talking yet? 
 
 Cres. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedi- 
 
 ciite to yoM. 
 Pan. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy 
 of yo'.i, you'll give him nie: Be true to my lord: if 
 he tlincli, chide me for it. 
 
 Tro. You know now your hostages ; your uncle's 
 word, and my firm faith. 
 
 Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our 
 kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, 
 they are constant, being won: they are burs, I can 
 tell you ; they'll stick where they are thrown. 
 
 Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me 
 heart : — 
 Prij ce Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day 
 For manv weary months, 
 
 Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? 
 Cres. Hard to seem won ; but 1 was won, my 
 lord. 
 With the first glance that ever — Pardon me; — 
 If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. 
 I love you now ; but not, till now, so much 
 But I might master it : — in faith, I lie ; 
 My thoughts we^e like unbridled children, grown 
 Too headstrong for their mother : See, we tools. 
 Why have I blabbd ? who shall be true to us, 
 When we are so unsecret to oursehes? 
 But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not; 
 And yetj good faith, I wish'd myself a man ; 
 Or that women had men's privilege 
 Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue ; 
 For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak 
 The thing I shall repent! See, see, your silence. 
 Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws 
 My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouth. 
 
 Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence 
 Paji. Pretty, i'laith. 
 
 Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me ; 
 Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss : 
 ' 5»m asliam'd ; — O heavens ! what have I done ? 
 Forthls time will I take my leave, niy lord. 
 J'v. Vour leave, sweet Cres.sid ? 
 
 Pan. Leave ! a; 
 morning, — 
 
 Cres. Pray you, content you. 
 Tro. What offends you, 
 
 Cres. Sir, mine own company. 
 . Tro. You cannot sli.ui 
 
 V oiirself. 
 
 Cres. Let me go and try : 
 I have a kind of self resides with you ; 
 But an unkind self, that itself will leave, 
 'J'o be another's fool. I would be gone : — 
 Where is my wit? I know not what I speak, 
 
 Tro. Well know they what they speak, that 
 
 spf ak so wisely. 
 Cres. Perchance, my lord, I shew more craft 
 than love ; 
 And fell so roundly to a large confession. 
 To angle for your thoughts : But you are wise ; 
 Or else you love not; For to be wise, and love, 
 Ex^ceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods above. 
 
 Tro. O, that I thought it could be in a woman, 
 (As, if it can, I will presume in you,) 
 To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ; 
 To keep her constancy in plight and youth. 
 Outliving beauty's outvvard, with a mind 
 That doth renew swifter than blood decays I 
 
 Or, that persuasion could but thus convince me, 
 
 'J'liat my integrity and truth to you 
 
 iMJKht be affronted with the match and weight 
 
 Of such a winnow'd purity in love ; 
 
 flow were I then uplifted ! but, alas, 
 
 I am as true as truth's simplicity, 
 
 And simpler than (he infancy of truth. 
 
 Cres. In that I'll war with you. 
 „,.^'''''- O virtuous fi;rht. 
 
 When right with right war.s, who shall be most 
 
 ri^ht ! 
 True swains in love shall, in the world to come, 
 Approve their truths by Troilus: when their 
 
 rhyme-!, 
 Full of protest, of oath, and big compare. 
 Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration, — 
 As true as steel, as plantage to the moon. 
 As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 
 
 As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre 
 
 V et, alter all comparisons of truth. 
 As truth's authentic author to be cited, 
 As true as 'J'roilus shall crown up the verse. 
 And sanctify the numbers. 
 
 Cres. Prophet may you be I 
 
 If I be f^alse, or swerve a hair from truth. 
 When time is old and hath forgot itself, 
 When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, 
 And mighty states characterless are grated 
 To dusty nothing ; yet let memory. 
 From false to false among false maids in love. 
 Upbraid my falsehood I when they have said— as 
 
 false 
 As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth. 
 As f()x to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
 Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son: 
 Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 
 As false as Cres.«id. 
 
 Pan. Go to, a bargain made : seal it, seal it ; I'lll 
 be the witness. — Here I hold your hand : here, ray 
 cousin's. If ever you prove false one to anotlier 
 since I have taken such pains to bring you together, 
 let all pitiful goers-betvveen be called to the world's 
 end after my name, call tliem all — Pandars; let all 
 constant men be Tioilusses, all false women Cressids, 
 
 say, amen. 
 
 and all brokers between Pandars; 
 
 Tro. Amen. 
 
 Cres. Amen. 
 
 Pan. Amen. Whereupon T will shew you a 
 chamber and a bed. which bed, because it shall no 
 speak of your pretty eacounter.s, press it to death : 
 away. 
 
 And Cupid giHiii all tongue-tieu mndens here, 
 Bed-cham!)t r i'-i. li.u 
 
 O prov :i,e tl.is grtr 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
52G 
 
 TROILUS AND' CRESSTDA. 
 
 Act tit. 
 
 Scene I/I. — The Grecian Camp. 
 
 Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Diomedes, Nestor, 
 Ajax, M enelaus, aHO? Calchas. 
 
 Cal. Now, princes, for tlie ser\ice I liave done 
 yo'.i, 
 I'l c ailviuit.ige of the time prompts me alond 
 To viiil lor recoin|)ense. Appear it to your mind, 
 I'liiit, tliroiiuli the sight I bear in tilings, to Jove 
 / I liuve abandoii'd Troy, ielt ray possessions, '' ' 
 l:iciirrM a traitor's name; cxpos'd myself, ' 
 
 Fioin certain and possess'd conveniences, 
 To doubtful fortunes; seqiiest'ring i'rorn me all, 
 '.."liat time, acquaintance, custom, and condition, 
 T^lade tame and most familiar to my nature ; 
 And here, to do you service, am become 
 A.S new into the world, strange, nnacqi'iEUpted : 
 I do beseech you, as in way oi'tast^^' /"' '^ ',' 
 
 'J'o give nie now a little benefit, ' '' ' 
 
 Out ol those many register'd in promise, 
 Which, you say, live to come in my tjehalF. 
 
 Agam. VVIiat woukVst thou of us, 'JVojanV make 
 demand. 
 
 Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Anteuor, 
 Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dt'ar. 
 Oft have you, (oi'ten have you thanks therefore,) 
 I'esir'd my Cressid iu right great exchange. 
 Whom Troy hath still denied : But this Antenor, 
 1 know, is such a wrest in tiieir affairs, 
 'I'hat their negotiations all must slack. 
 Wanting his manage; and they will aluiost 
 G.ve us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, 
 In change of him : let him be sent, great princes, 
 Anil he shall buy my daughter; and her presence 
 Miall quite strike oif all service I have done. 
 In most accepted pain. 
 
 Agam. Let Diomedes bear him. 
 
 And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall ha\e 
 Whit he requests of us. Good Diomed, 
 I'urnish you fairly ibr this interchange: 
 Withal, briiig vvord if Hector will to-morrow 
 Be answer'd in his challenge : Ajax is ready. 
 
 Dio. 'I'his shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden 
 Which I am proud to bear. 
 
 [Exeunt Diomedes atid Calchas. 
 
 Enter Achilles ojzc^Patroclus, before their Tent. 
 
 UlysS. Achilles stands i'lhe entrance of his 
 _tent:— , ^ 
 
 Please it our general fo'pass strangely by hini, 
 As if he were forgot ; and, princes all, 
 Lay negligent and loose regard upon him: — 
 I will coine last : 'Tis like, he'll question me. 
 Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why tnrn'd on 
 
 him r 
 If so, I have derision med'cinable, 
 To use between your strangeness and his pride, 
 VVhich his own will shall have desii'e to drink ; 
 It may do good : pride has no other glass 
 To shew itself but pride ; for supple knees 
 Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 
 
 Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and put on 
 A lorm o( strangeness as we pas's along ;— 
 So do each lord; and either greet him not, 
 Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more 
 Trian if not look'd on. I will lead tlie way. 
 
 Achil. What, comes the general to speak with me? 
 
 \ oil ki.ow my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. 
 
 Ayam. ^Y hat says Achilles? would he aught 
 
 with us? 
 Nest. Would you, my lord, augnt with the ge- 
 neral ? 
 Achtl No. 
 
 Nest. Nothhig, my lord. 
 Agam. 'I'lie tetter. 
 
 . , [tlxeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. 
 
 ,,''•„ , GJood day, good day. 
 
 MsH. How do you ? how do you ? [Exit, 
 
 Aj-fiil. What, does the cuckold scorn me '^ 
 
 Ajax. How now, Patroclus ? 
 
 Achil. Good morrow, Aja*. 
 
 Aja.-c. .' ild ? 
 
 Achil. Good morrow. 
 
 Ajax. Ay, and good next <!ay too. [Exit. 
 
 Achil. What mean these fellows? Know they 
 
 not Achillea ? 
 Pair. They pass by strangely : they were ris'd 
 to bend, 
 To send their smiles before them to Achilles ; 
 To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep 
 To holy altars. 
 
 Achil. What, am I poor of late? 
 
 'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fon. 
 
 tune. 
 Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd ia. 
 He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
 As feel in his own fall : for men, like butterflies. 
 Shew not their mealy wings, bat to the summer 
 And not a man, tor being simply man. 
 Hath any honour; but honour ior tliose honours 
 That are without him, as place, riches, favour, 
 Prizes of accident as oft as merit : 
 Which when they fall, as being slijjpery standersi. 
 The love that lean'd on them as slippery too. 
 Do one pluck down another, and together 
 Die in the (all. But tis not so with me : 
 Fortune and I are friends; 1 do enjoy . 
 
 At ample point all that 1 did possess. 
 Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out 
 Something* not worth in me such rich beholding 
 As they have often gi\en. Here is Ulysses ; 
 Ml interrupt his reading.— 
 How now, Ulysses ? 
 
 Ulyss, Now, great Thetis' son? 
 
 Achil. What are you reading? 
 Ulyss. . . A strange fellow Ifcre 
 
 Writes me, That man — how dearly ever parted. 
 How much in having, or without, or in, — ■ 
 Ciinnot make boast to have that which he hath, ■'■ ' 
 Nor feels not what he owes, but by relkcf ion : ^ 
 As when his virtues, shining upon others. 
 Heat them, and they retort that hetit agriiii 
 To the first giver. ', 
 
 Achil. This is not strange; Ulysses, 
 
 The beauty that is borne here in the fice, 
 The bearer knows not, but commends itself, 
 To others' eyes : nor doth the eye itself 
 (That most pure spirit of sense,) behold itself, 
 Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd, 
 Salutes each other with each other's form 
 Por speculation turns hot to itself. 
 Till it hath travell'd, and is rnarried there. 
 Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all. 
 
 Ulyss. I do not strain at the position. 
 It is familiar ; but at the author's drift: 
 W^ho, in his circumstance, expressly prov^es-^- ' 
 That no man is the lord of any thing, 
 rriiough in and of him there be much consisting,)/-' 
 Till he communicate his parts to others ; 
 Nor doth he of himself know them for aught, 
 Till he behold them form'd in the applause, 
 Where they are extended ; which, like an arch, 
 
 reverberates 
 The voice again ; or, like a gate of steCl, 
 Fronting the sun, receives and renders back _ ' '■ 
 His figure and his heat I was much rajH in this;'' 
 And ajiprehended here immediately 
 The unknown Ajax. 
 
 Heavens, what a man is there ! a very lioise ; 
 That has he knows not wh^t. Nature, what things 
 
 there are. 
 Most abiert in regard, and dear in me ! 
 What things again most dear in the esue-n. 
 And poor in worth! Now shall we see ta-ro row. 
 An act that veiy chance dc.th throw upon .in, 
 Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some ,, n do, 
 Whi'e some ni( n leave to do ! 
 
 How some men creep in skittish fortune 
 Whiles others play tlie idio's m her eyes 
 How one man ealsinto another's iiride, 
 
 i:alj. 
 
SCENK 3. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 52'; 
 
 Wliile pride is fastitifr in Iiis wautonn^ssf "" ' ' '^'. 
 To see tliess Grecian lords I — wliy, even already 
 ^'hev cidji ihe lubber Aj;ix on tlip slir airier ; 
 As if i-,is foot \\ere on brave Hector's breast. 
 And s""'"'' Troy sbnnkiiii;'. 
 
 Ac/iiL I do believe it: for they pass'd by me, 
 As misers do by hrirgars ; neither ga\e to nie 
 Gord wolf!, i:or look: \\ hat, arc my deeds forgot? 
 
 U/i/ss. Time bath, inV lord, a wallet at his back, 
 Wbei't-in iie puts alnis lor oblivion, 
 A jfreiit fiiz'd monster of inpralitndes : 
 '1 licse scraps are good deeds past; which are de- 
 
 voar'd 
 As fast (IS thty are made, forgot as soon 
 As <'(inc: l'er!-e\erance, dear my loid, 
 Keejjs lioiionr bright : To have dotie, is (o hang 
 Quiie out of fasiiion, like a nisty niail 
 In nil nuniental mockery. Take the instant way; 
 For bono ir travels in a strait so narrow, 
 Whi re ( ne ont goes abreast: keep then the path ; 
 t'or 1 uiuJation bath a thousand sons, 
 'lliat <.ne by one puisne : If you )>ive way. 
 Or Ill-die aside fr( m the dirtct tbrthright, 
 Liki- to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, 
 And lcu\e yoii hindmost,— 
 Cr, 1 ke a (;allaiit horse fallen in first rank, 
 l.ie t::ere for pavement to th^ abject rear, 
 O'er-nin aid tranijJled' on: 'Then what they do iu 
 
 pre sen', •• ' 
 
 Tbortgh Ivss than yours in past, must oVrtop yours. 
 For iMiie is like a fasliion.ilile host, 
 'J"t;at .'l giitly shakes bis partir.g guest by the hand ; 
 And wlfh his arms out stretch'd, as he Would t^y. 
 Grasps in the coiner: Welcome e\er smiles. 
 And ti:rewell goes out sighing, O, let not virtue 
 Keiniii eration for the thing it was ! [seek 
 
 Fir bcTi ty, wit. 
 
 High birlii, vigour of bone, desert in service. 
 Love, (tietulship, charity, are subjects all 
 To envious ami cahimnialing time. 
 Ore tonrh of nature makes the whole world kin. — 
 That all, with ine consent, praise new born gawds. 
 Though ihiy'nre made iid moulded of things past; 
 And f;ive to dust, that is a little gilt, ' 
 More iaud than gilt o'er-dusted. 
 The present eye jiraises the present object : 
 'I'heii marvel not, th<?ii great and complete man, 
 I'liat all the Greeks begin to worsiiip Ajax ; 
 .Since things in motion sooner catch the eye, 
 Thr.n what not stirs. The cry went once on thee. 
 And still it might ; and yet it may again. 
 If thoH would'st not entomb thyself alive. 
 And case thy reputation in thy tent; 
 Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, 
 Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods thetn- 
 And (li a\ e great Mars to faction. [se)v*:»i, 
 
 Ackil. ... Of this my privacy 
 
 1 have strong reasons. 
 
 Ulyss. Biit Against your privacy 
 
 The leason.s are more potent and heroical: 
 'Tis known. Acliilles, that you are iu love _ ; 
 Witti one of Priam'ti daughters. " ' V ^ 
 
 Achil. J Ha! known?" 
 
 Ulyss. Is that a wonder 1. _ , 
 The piovidence that's in a watchful state. 
 Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold , 
 Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps: 
 Fieejis p!ace with thought, and almost, like the gods, 
 Do(s llioiigbts unveil in their dumb cradles. 
 There is a mystery (with whom relation 
 Durst never meddle) in the soul of state ; 
 NV liich hatii an operation more divine, 
 '.riian breath, or pen, can give expiessure io 
 All the commerce that you have had with Troy, 
 As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord ; 
 And belter would it fit Achilles much, 
 'io throw down Hector, than Polyxena : 
 B t iv miiBt grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home. 
 When laine shall in our islands sound her trump, 
 And ail tlie Greekish girls sliall tripping sing, — 
 
 Oreat Hector's fis/er did Achilles win ; 
 But our rjrent Ajax hrnvehj oeat dou n him. 
 Fii.'evvell, my lord: I as your lo\er speai\. ; 
 The foci slides o'er tiiC ice that you should break. 
 
 [Exii 
 
 Pair. To this efiVct, Achilles, hav e I mov'd you 
 A woman impudent atid mannish grown 
 Is not more loath'd than an efteminate man 
 In time of actinn. I stand condemn'd lor this ; 
 They think, my little stomach to the war, 
 And your great love to uie, restrains you thus : 
 Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 
 Shall frtim your neck unloose his amorous lolil. 
 And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, 
 Ue shook to air, 
 
 AchU. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? 
 
 Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive mucii houuar 
 by him, ^ 
 
 Achil. 1 see, my reputation is at stake ; 
 \)y fauie is shrewdly gor'd,. 
 
 Patr. 0, then beware: 
 
 Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves ; 
 OiAission to do what is necessary 
 Seols a commission to a blank of danger; 
 .And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
 Even then when we sit idly in the sun, 
 
 Achil. Go call Till rsites hither, sweet Pufroclus ^ 
 I'll send the fool to Aj.ix, and desire him 
 To invite the Trojan lords alter the combat, 
 To see us here imarm'd ; I have a woman's longing, 
 .An appetite tiiat I am sick withal. 
 To see great Hector iu his weeds of peace; 
 To talk with hiiu, and to behold his visage, 
 Even to hiy fullofiiew. A labour sav'd 1 
 
 Enter Thersites, 
 
 Ther. A wonder ! 
 
 Achil. What i [for himself. 
 
 Ther. Ajax goes up and down tlie fi<.l(i, asking 
 
 Achil. How so ? 
 
 Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec- 
 tor ; and is so prophetically proud ol an heroical 
 cudgelling, that he raves in sayii g nuthiug, 
 
 Achil. How can that be ? 
 
 Ther. \\ liy, he stalks up and down like a pea- 
 cock, a stride, and a stand : ruiniuates like an hos- 
 tess, that hath no arithmetic but tier brain to set 
 down her reckoning: bites his lip with a polite re- 
 gard, as w ho should say — there vyere VMt m tiiis: 
 bead, an 'twould out ; and so there is ; but it li^s as 
 coldly in him as fire in a fl.nt. wliich will lot si.ew 
 vvithiHit knoi'king. Tlie man's undone tor e^er; for 
 if Hector break not his neck, i t-ie ci mbat. he'll 
 break it himself in vain glory. He knows not me :: 
 \ said, Good-morrow, Ajax ; and he rei)lies,'/'/wnl-«, 
 Aqameiiinon. What think you of tliis man, that 
 ules me for the general ? He is grown a v^-ry land- 
 l..>h, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! 
 H man may wear it on both sides, like a leather 
 jrrkin. [Ther.sites, 
 
 Achil. Thou must be my ambassad .r to liiin, 
 
 Ther. W"ho, I? why, he'll answer noboily ; he 
 professes not answering; speakin;; is for brggar.s ; 
 lie wears his tongue in his arms, I will put on his 
 presence ; let Patroclus make dera ud» to me, you 
 shall see the pageant of Ajax, 
 
 Achil. To \\n\\, Patroclus; Tell him,— I humblr 
 desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the mo.st valorous 
 Hector to come unnrined to my tent ; and to procure 
 safe conduct for his person, of the magna liuioiis, 
 and most illustrious, six-or-seven times-iionoured 
 cajitain-general of the Grecian army. Ai,aiiiemnon. 
 Do this. 
 
 Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. 
 
 Ther. Humph I 
 
 Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles,- 
 
 Ther. Ha! 
 
 Patr. Who most humbly desires you tj invit»--' 
 Hector to ins tent; — 
 
 'Thar. Huirn)h 
 
528 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Pntr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga- 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon? [merauon 
 
 Patr. Ay, my lord. 
 
 The,: Hu! 
 
 Patr. VV^hat say you to't ? 
 
 Ther. (rod be wi' yon, with all my heart. 
 
 Patr. Voiir answer, sir. 
 
 Ther. If to-morrow be a fiiir day, by eleven 
 -j"clocii it will go one way or other; howsoerer. he 
 .■iiiall |iay for me ere he has me. » 
 
 Pair. Your answer, «ir. 
 
 Thf.r. Fare you well , with all my heart. 
 
 Acli.il, Why, but he is not in this tune, is he ? 
 
 Ther. No, "but he's out o'tune thus. What mu- 
 sic will be in him when Hector has knocked (>ut 
 his brains, 1 know not : but, I am sure, none, un- 
 less tlie fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make cat- 
 ling's on. 
 
 Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 
 straight. 
 
 Ther. Let me bear another to his horse ; for that's 
 the more capable creature. 
 
 Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirrd; 
 And I myself see not tiie bottom of it. 
 
 [Exeunt A chilles and Patrochta- 
 
 Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind wer« 
 clear again, that I might water an ass at it I I had 
 rather be a tick in a slieep, tlian such a valiant i^^- 
 Dorance. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Troy. A Street. 
 
 Enter at one side, ^Eneas, and Servant ivlth a 
 torch; at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, Ante- 
 NOK, UiOMEDES, and others, with torches. 
 
 Par, See, ho ! who's that there ? 
 
 Dei. 'I'is the lord ^Eneas. 
 
 jEne. Is the prince there in person? — 
 Had 1 so good occasion to lie long, 
 As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business 
 baiiiild rob my bed-mate of my company, [i^ineas. 
 
 Dio. That's my mind too. — Good morrow, lord 
 
 Par. A valiant Greek, iEneas; take his hand; 
 Wellness the process of your speecii, wherein 
 Von told— how Diomed, a whole WL'ck by days, 
 Did haunt you in the field. 
 
 ^■Ene. Health to you, valiant sir. 
 
 Dn:ingall question of the gentle truce: 
 lint wnen I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, 
 As lieart can think, or courage esecute. 
 
 Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.- 
 O.ir hi iiids are now in calm ; and, so long, health : 
 ISiit wlim conlentiun and occasion meet. 
 By Jove, I 11 ,)iay t.ie hunter ibr thy life. 
 With all my foriv, pnr.siiit, and (lolicy. 
 
 /Ene. And thou shalt hunt n lion, that will fly 
 Witii ins face backward.— In humane gentleness. 
 Welcome o Troy ! now, by Anchises' life, 
 Welcoiiie, indeed 1 Uy Venus' hand I swear, 
 No Ulan alive can love in such a sort, 
 Tlie thin;^- he means to kill, more excellently. 
 
 Dio. \We sympathize : — Jove, let jEiieas live, 
 li' to my swonl his i'ate be not the glory, 
 A thjusaud complete courses of the sun! 
 liiit, in iuine emulous honour, let him die, 
 With every joint a wound ; and that to-morrow I 
 
 jEne. We know each other well, 
 
 Dio. We do : and long to know each other worse. 
 
 Par. Tills is the most despiteful gentle greeting. 
 The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. — 
 What business, lord, so early? 
 
 JEne. I was sent lor to the king ; but why, I know 
 not. 
 
 Par. His purpose meets you ; 'twas to bring this 
 Greek 
 To Calclias' house ; and there lo render him, 
 l'"ur the Gufreed Anteuor, the fair Cressid. 
 Let's have your company ; or, if you please 
 
 Haste there before us : I constantly do think, 
 (Or,v rather, call my thought a certain knowledge,) 
 My brother Troilns lodges there to night ; ^ 
 
 Rouse him, and give him note of our approach, 
 With the whole quality wherefore I fear 
 We shall be much unwelcome. 
 
 JEne. That I assure you ; 
 
 Troiliis had rather Troy were borne to Greece, 
 Than Cressid borne* from Trov. 
 
 Par. There is no help ; 
 
 The bitter disposition of the time 
 Will ha\ e it so. On, lord : we'll follow you. 
 
 jEne. Good murrow, all. VExii 
 
 Par. And tell me, noble Diomed; 'faith, tell me 
 true. 
 Even in the suni of sound good-fellowship, — 
 Wlio, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen l)est. 
 Myself, or Mtnelaiis :" 
 
 Dio. Both alike : 
 
 He merits well to have lier, that duth seek her 
 (Not making any scruple oi her soihire,) '' 
 VVith such a hell of pain, and woild of charge ; 
 And you as well to keep her, that defend iccr 
 (Not palating the taste of her dishonour.) 
 With such a costly loss of wealth and friend.i : 
 he, like a puling cuckold, would drink up 
 The lees and dregs of a Hat tamed piece ; 
 Vou, like a lecher, out of whonsh loins 
 Are pleas'd to breed out your iuiieritors: 
 Both inerits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more , 
 But he as he, the heavier for a whore. 
 
 Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. 
 
 Dio. She's bitter to her country : Hear me, Paris — 
 For every false drop in her bawdy veins - 
 A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple 
 Of her contaminated carrion weight, 
 A Trojan hath been slain : since she could speak. 
 She hath not given so many good words breath. 
 As for her Greeks and Trojans suft'er'd death, 
 
 Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, 
 Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy : 
 But we in silence hold this virtue well,-- 
 We'U not commend what we intend to sell. 
 Here lies our way. [Exeim 
 
 Scene IL — The same. Court before the HoUfie 
 
 of Pandarus. 
 
 Enter Tkoilus and Crzssioa. 
 
 Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. 
 
 C'/'CA'. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle 
 down ; 
 He shall unbolt the gates. 
 
 Tro. Trouble him not •, 
 
 To bed, to bed : Sleep kill those pretty eyes. 
 Anil give as soft attachment to thy senses 
 As iniaiits' empty id' all thought ! 
 
 Cres. Good morrow, then 
 
 Tro. Pr'ythee now, to bed. 
 
 Cres. Are you aweary of me ? 
 
 'I'ro. O Cressida ! but that the busy day, 
 W A'd by tlie lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, 
 ^vnd dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
 I would not from thee. 
 
 Cres. Night hath been too brief. 
 
 fro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wight 
 she stays. 
 As tediously as hell ; but Hies the grasps of love, 
 With wings more momentary-swift than thought. 
 You will catch cold, and curse me. 
 
 Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry ; 
 
 Y^ou men will never tarry. 
 
 O foolish Cressid !— I might have still held oil, 
 And then you would have tarried. Hark I tliere's 
 
 one up, 
 'Vithii 
 . is your uncle. 
 
 Pan lWithin.)WhAt,we =■. 
 IVo. It is 
 
 the doors Dpeii here? 
 
 rp7 
 
 Enter Pandakl's. 
 Cres. A pestilence on him ! now will he 
 luocking : 
 
 be 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 529 
 
 shall have such a life, — 
 
 J''an. How now, how now ? how go maidenheads ? 
 — Here, you maid ! where's my cousin Cressid ? 
 Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking 
 uncle ! 
 Vou bring me to do, and then you flout me too. 
 
 Pan, 'J'o do what? to do what? — let her say 
 what : what have I brought you to do ? 
 Cres. Come, come ; beshrew your heart ! you'll 
 ne'er be good, 
 Nor suffer others. 
 
 Pan. Ha, ha I Alas, poor wretch! a poor capoc- 
 chia ! — hast not slept to-night? would he not, a 
 caught) man, let it sleep ? a bugbear take him ! 
 
 {Knocking.) 
 Cres. Did I not tell you ? — 'would he were 
 knock'd o'the head ! — 
 Who's that at door ? good uncle, go and see. — 
 My lord, come you again into my chamber : 
 You smile, and mock uie, as if I meant naughtily. 
 Tro. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such 
 thing. — {Knocking.) 
 
 How earnestly ihey knock ! — pray you, come in ; 
 t would not lor half Troy have you seen here. 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. 
 Pan. {Going to the door.) Who's tliere '! wljat's 
 the matter ? will you beat down tiie duor? How 
 now ? what's the matter i 
 
 Enter ^Eneas. 
 
 .^ne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. 
 
 Pan. Who's there ? my lord ..Eneas 'I By my troth, 
 I knew you not : what news with you so early ? 
 
 jEne. Is not prince Troilus here ? 
 
 Pan. Here ! what should he do here ? [him ; 
 
 ^ne. Come, he is here, my lord, do not deny 
 It doth impoi t him much, to speak with me. 
 
 Pan. Is he here, say you ? 'tis more than I know, 
 1 11 be sworn : — For my own part, I came in late : 
 What should he do here ? 
 
 jEne. Who ! — nay, then : — 
 Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 'ware : 
 You'll be so true to him, to be lalse to him : 
 Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him hither; 
 Go. 
 
 As Pandarus is going out, enter Tkoilus. 
 
 Tro. How now ? what's the matter ? 
 
 Aine. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you. 
 My matter is so rash : There is at hand 
 Paris yoirr brother, and Deiphobus, 
 The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor 
 Deliver'd to u.<= ; and for him forthwith. 
 Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour. 
 We must give up to Diomedes' hand 
 The l.idy Cressida. 
 
 Tro. Is it so concluded ? 
 
 .Mne, By Priam, and the general state of Troj : 
 They are at hand, and ready to effect if. 
 
 Tro. How my achievements mock me ! 
 I will go meet tfiem : and, my lord iEiieas, 
 We met by chance ; you did not find me liere. 
 
 jEne. Good, good, my lord ; the secreis of nature 
 Have not more gift in taciturnity. 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus and JEtneas. 
 
 Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost.-' The 
 devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad. 
 A i)lague upon Antenor ! I would, they had broke's 
 neck! 
 
 Enter CREssroA. 
 
 Cres. How now ? What is the matter ? Who was 
 here ? 
 
 Pan. Ah, ah ! [lord gone ? 
 
 Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly ? where's my 
 Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter ? 
 
 Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as 
 I iini above ! 
 
 Cres. O the gods I — what's the matter ? 
 
 Pan Pr'ythee, get thee in ; 'Would thou had'sl 
 
 ne'er been bom! Knew, thou wo ild'dt behisdeath* 
 "O poor gentieiJian I — A plague iipoo Antenor • * 
 
 Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my knees 
 I beseech you, what's the matter? ' 
 
 Pan. Tfcou musf be gone, wench, thou mu.«t be 
 gone ; tiioa art changed for Antenor ; thou must to 
 tliy father, and be gone from Troilus; 'twill be his 
 death; 'twill be his bane ; he cannot bear it. 
 
 Cres. O you inmiortal gods !— I will not go. 
 
 Pan. Thou must. 
 
 Cres. I wiil not, uncle : I have forgot my father. 
 I know no touch of consanguinity ; 
 No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me. 
 As the sweet Troilus.— O you gods divine ! 
 Make Cressids name the very crown of falsehood 
 It ever she leave Troilus ! Time, force, and death' 
 Do to this body what extremes you can • ' 
 
 But the strong base and building of ray lova 
 Is as the very centre of tlie earth. 
 Drawing all things to it,— I'll go in, and weep ;— 
 
 Pan. Do, do. [checks • 
 
 Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised' 
 Crack my clear voice witii sobs and break my heart 
 With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene III.— The same. Before Pandarus' House. 
 
 Enter Paris, Troilus. ^Eneas, Deiphobus, 
 Antenor, and Diomedes. 
 
 Par. It is great morning; and the hour pre. i\'d 
 Ot iier delivery to this valiant Greek 
 Comes frtst upon :— Good my brother Troilus, 
 'i ell you the lady what she is to do. 
 Anil h:iste her to the purpose. 
 
 ^ .J'''": , Walk in to her house ; 
 
 1 II bring her to the Grecian presently: 
 
 And to liis hand when I deliver her, 
 
 Tliink it an altar ; and thy brother Troilus 
 
 A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit. 
 
 Par. I know what 'tis to love ; 
 And would, as I shall pity, I could help ! — 
 Please you, walk in, my lords. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene lY.— The same. A Room in Pandarus 
 House. 
 
 Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 
 
 Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. 
 
 Cres. Why tell you me of moderation ? 
 The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I ta.ste. 
 And violentf th in a sense as strong 
 As that «hicli causefh it : How can I moderate it ? 
 If I could temporize with my affection. 
 Or brew it to a weak and colder ( alate. 
 The like allayment could I give my grief 
 My love admits no qnalif'ving dross : 
 No more my grief, in sucli a preclons loss. 
 
 Enter Troilds. 
 
 Pan. Here, here, here he co.^>es. — Ah, sweet 
 ducks ! 
 
 Cres. OTioilus! Troilus! {Embracing him.) 
 
 Pa)?. What a pair of spectacles is here ! Let me 
 embrace too: heart, — as the goodly saying is, — 
 
 heart, O heavy heart, 
 
 TVhy svjKsl thou iviihout breaking ? 
 VVhere he answers nijain. 
 
 Because thou canst not ease thy stnart. 
 By friendship, nor by speaking. 
 There never was n truer ihyine. Lt-t us cist away 
 nothing, for we may live to have need of nm. h ?. 
 verse ; we see it, ue see it. — How now, huiibs? 
 
 Tro. Cressid, I love tliee in s > stiain'd a purity, 
 That the bifst gods — as angry wi b my iancy. 
 More blight in zeal than the devotion which 
 Cold lips blow to their di-ities,— take thee from me. 
 
 Cres. Have the gods en\y ? 
 
 Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay , lis loo plain a ca.'e. 
 
 Cres. And is it true, that 1 must go from Troy? 
 
 Tro. \ hateful tjutli. 
 
 Cren. What, and from Troilus too ? 
 
 »4 
 
530 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 From Troy anc Troilns. 
 re . Is it possible ? 
 
 Tro. And suddenly ; where injury of chance 
 Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by 
 All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 
 Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents 
 Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows 
 Even in the birth of our own labouring breath; 
 We two, that with so many thousand sighs 
 Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves 
 VVith the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
 Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, 
 Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how : 
 As many farewells as be stars in heaven, 
 With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them. 
 He fimibles up into a loose adieu; 
 And scants us with a single famish'd kiss. 
 Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 
 
 jUne. ( ff'itkin.) My lord ! is the lady ready ? 
 
 Tro. Hark ! you are call'd : Some say, the Genius so 
 Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die. — 
 Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon. 
 
 Pfoi. Where are my tears ? rain, to lay this wind, 
 or my heart will be blown up by the root ! [Exit. 
 
 Cres. I must then to the Greeks ? 
 
 Tro. No remedy. 
 
 Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry 
 Greeks ! — 
 When shall we see again ? [heart, — 
 
 Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of 
 
 Cres. I true ! how now ? what wicked deem is this? 
 
 Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, 
 For it is parting from us : 
 1 speak not, be thou true., as fearing thee ; 
 For I will throw my glove to death himself. 
 That there's no maculation in thy heart: 
 But, he tliou. true, say I, to fashion in 
 My sequent protestation; be thou true, 
 And I will see thee. 
 
 Cres. O, you shall beexpos'd,mylord,to dangers 
 As infinite as imminent! but, I'll be true. 
 
 Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear 
 this sleeve. 
 
 •Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you ? 
 
 Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, 
 To give thee nightly visitation. 
 But yet, be true. 
 
 Cres. O heavens ! — be true, again ? 
 
 Tro. Hear why I speak it, love : 
 The Grecian youths are full of quality ; [flovving. 
 They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature 
 And swelling o'er with arts and exercise ; 
 How novelty may move, and parts with person, 
 Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 
 (Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) 
 Makes me aieard. 
 
 Cres. O heavens! you love me not. 
 
 Tro. Die I a villain then! 
 In this I do not call your faith in question, 
 So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing. 
 Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, 
 Kor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all, [nant : 
 To which the Grecians are most prompt and preg- 
 iiut I can tell, that in each grace of these 
 There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil, 
 That tennpts most cunningly : but be not tempted. 
 
 Cres. Do you think I will ? 
 
 Tro. No. 
 But something may be done, that we will not ; 
 And sometimes we are devils to ourselves. 
 When we will tempt the frailty of our powers. 
 Presuming on their changefol potency. 
 
 ^Ene. {Within.) Nay, good my lord, — 
 
 Tro. Come, l^iss ; and let us part. 
 
 Par. {Within.) Brother Troilus ! 
 
 Tro. Good brother, come you hither ; 
 
 And bring jEneas, and the Grecian, with you. 
 
 Cres. My lord, will you be true? 
 
 Tro. Who, I ? alas, it is my vice, my fault: 
 Whileothers fish with craft for great opinion. 
 
 I with great truth calch mere simplicity ; 
 
 Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns 
 
 With triitU and |)lainness I do wear wine bare. 
 
 Fear not my truth : the moral of my wit 
 
 Is — plain, and true, — there's all the reach of it. 
 
 £?i<er jEneas, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, 
 
 a7ld DiOMEDES. 
 
 Welcome, sir Diomed ! here is the lady, 
 \Vhich fur Antenor we deliver you : 
 At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand ; 
 And, by the way, possess thee what she is. 
 Entreat her fair, and, by my soul, fair Greek, 
 If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, 
 Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe, 
 As Priam is in llion. 
 
 Dio. Fair lady Cressid, 
 
 So please you, save the thanks this prince expects : 
 The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek. 
 Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed 
 You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. 
 
 Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously 
 To shame the zeal of my petition to thee. 
 In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, 
 She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises, 
 As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. 
 I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge ; 
 For, by the dreadful Pluto, if tiiou dost not, 
 Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, 
 I'll cut thy throat. 
 
 Dio, O, be not mov'd, prince Troilus: 
 
 Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message, 
 To be a speaker free ; when I am hence, 
 I'll answer to ray lust: And know you, lord, 
 I'll nothing do on charge : To her own worth 
 She shall be priz'd, but that you say — be't so, 
 I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, — no. 
 
 Tro. Come, to the port. — I'll tell thee, Diomed, 
 This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head.- 
 Lady, give me your hand ; and, as we walk, 
 To our own selves bend we our needful talk. 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus, Cressida, and Diomed 
 {Trumpet heard.) 
 
 Par. Hark ! Hector's trumpet. 
 
 Aine. How have we spent this morning' 
 
 The prince must think me tardy aud remiss. 
 That swore to ride before him Ui the field. 
 
 Par. 'Tis Troilus' i'ault: Come, come, to field 
 with him. 
 
 Dei. Let us make ready straight. 
 
 JEne. Yea, with a bridegroom s fresh alacrity, 
 Let us address to tend on Hector's heels : 
 The glory of our Troy doth this day lie 
 On his fair worth, and single chivalry. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. 
 
 Enter Ajax, armed; Agamemnon, Achilles, 
 
 Patroclus, IVIenelaus, Ulysses, Nestor and 
 
 others. 
 
 A'jam. Here art thou in aiipointir.eiit fresh and fair, 
 Anticipating tune witii starting courage. 
 Give witli thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 
 'I'huu dreadtid Ajax; that the appalled air 
 May pierce the head of the great combatant, 
 And hale him hither. 
 
 Ajr!.x. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse 
 
 Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe : 
 Blow, villain, till tliy sphered bias cheek 
 Out-swell tlie colick of puft"'d Aqiiilon : 
 Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spont blood 
 Thou lilow'st fiu- Hector. {Trumpet sounds '] 
 
 Ulyss. No trumpet answers. 
 
 Achil. 'Tis but early days. 
 
 Aqam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calchas' daughter'^ 
 
 Uli/ss. "I'is he, I ken tiie manner of his gait; 
 He rises on the toe : tli»t spirit ot his 
 In aspiration lifts iiiiii from the earth. 
 
 Enter Dio.vED tvith Cressida. 
 Ayam. Is tliis the lady Cressid i 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 531 
 
 JHo. Even she. [lady. 
 
 A'ltim. .\iost fle;u-!y welcome to the Greeks, sweet 
 
 Netit. Our <ipn!'i-;il doth sulnte yoii with a kiss. 
 
 iTlijs.s. Vet is the kindness l)iit p.ii ticiilar : 
 Twere better, she were kiss"d in ^^eiierid. 
 
 Nest. Anl \ery ruintly coniisel : 111 begin: — 
 Si> much t'lir Nestnr. 
 
 Achil. I'll take llitit \vli;ter from your IJ|)S.fiiir lady: 
 Arhilles bids ycu welrome. 
 
 Me7i. I b.\d f;ood ar;;iiMient (iir kissinj; on''e. 
 
 Patr, B;it tiiiifs no ;ir:;iiment lor kissing now : 
 For thus popp (1 Piuis in his hiirdiinent ; 
 And parted tluis yon and yonr argument. 
 
 Vli/ss, O deadly i;all. ;ind theme of all our scorns ! 
 For which we luse onr heads, to gild liis horns. 
 
 Patr. The fir.-t was Menelaiis' kiss, — this, mine : 
 Pafroclns kisses you. 
 
 Men. O. this is trim ! 
 
 Patr Paris, and I, kiss evermore for him. 
 
 Men. I'll have my kiss, sir : — Lady, by your leave. 
 
 C'res. In kissing, do vou render or receive ? 
 
 Patr. Both take and give. 
 
 Cres. I'll make my match to live, 
 
 The kiss you take is better than you give ; 
 Therefore no kiss. 
 
 ]}fen. I'll give yon boot, I'll give you three for one. 
 
 Cres. Vou're an odd man ; give even, or give none. 
 
 Meti. An odd man, lady? every man is odd. 
 
 Cres. No, Paris is not ; for, you know, 'tis true, 
 That you are odd, and he is even with you. 
 
 Men. You fillip me o' the head. 
 
 Cres. No, I'll be sworn. [horn. — 
 
 Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against his 
 May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you '? 
 
 Cres. You may. 
 
 Ulyss, I do desire it. 
 
 Cres. VVhy, beg then. 
 
 C^ysA. Why tlien, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, 
 When Helen is a maid again, and his. 
 
 Cres. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. 
 
 Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. 
 
 Dio. Lady, a word ; — I'll bring you to your father. 
 [Diomed leads out Cressida. 
 
 Ne.st. A woman of quick sense. 
 
 Ulyss. Fy, fy upon her! 
 
 Tlu'j e's language in her eye, her cheek, lier lip, 
 Nay, h( r f Ktt speaks ; her wanton spirits look out 
 At e\ery joint and motive of her body. 
 0, these encounterers, so glib of tongue. 
 That give a coasting welcome ere it comes. 
 And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
 To every tick is!i reader ! set them down 
 I r slntlish s, oils of opportunity, 
 .Ai d daughters of the game. [Trinnpet ivithiii.) 
 
 ill. Tlie Tmjan's trumpet. 
 
 A'jam. Yonder comes the troop. 
 
 Enter Hector, armed; ^neas, Troilus, and 
 other Trojans, with Attendants. 
 
 ^■Ew?. Hail, all the state of Greece ! what shall 
 be done 
 To him that victory commands? Or do you purpose 
 A victor shall be know.i'/ will you, the knights 
 Shall to the edge of all extremity 
 Pursue each oilier; or shall they be divided 
 By any voice or order of the field :' 
 Hector bade ask. 
 
 A'/am. Wliicli way would Hector have it? 
 
 A'lne. He cares not, hell obey conditions. 
 
 Achil. 'Tis done like Hector; hut securely done, 
 k littlt ppindly, and great deal misprizing 
 Till' knight oppos'd. 
 
 JF.ne. If not Achilles, sir. 
 
 What is your name ? 
 
 Achil. If not Achilles, nothing. 
 
 .iiiie. Therefore Achilles : But, whate'er, know 
 this; — 
 In the erhemity of great and little, 
 V^alour and pride excel themselves in Hector; 
 Tiie on? almost as infinite as all 
 
 The other blank as iK.thmg. Weigh him well, 
 -And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy. ' 
 
 This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood : 
 In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ; 
 Half heart, hall hand, half Hector comes to sef;k 
 'i'his blended knight, half Trojan, and half GreeL 
 Achil. A maiden battle then? — O, I perceive you 
 
 Re-enter Diomed. 
 
 Agam. Here is sir Diomed : — Go, gentle knight. 
 Stand by our Ajax : as you and lord iEneas 
 Consent upon the order of their fight. 
 So be it : either to the uttermost. 
 Or else a breath : the combatants being kin. 
 Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. 
 
 {Ajax and Hector enter the lists 
 Ulyss. They are oppos'd already. [heavy . 
 
 Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so 
 Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; 
 Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; 
 Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue : 
 Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon calni'd 
 His heart and hand both open, and both free ; 
 For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shews: 
 Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, 
 Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath : 
 Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
 For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes 
 To tender objects ; but he, in heat of action. 
 Is more vindicative than jealous love: 
 They call him Troilus ; and on him erect 
 A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. 
 Thus says ^Eneas : one, that knows the youth 
 Even to his inches, and, with private soul, 
 Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. 
 
 [Alarum. Heetor and Ajax fight.) 
 
 Anam. They are in action. 
 
 Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own ! 
 
 I'ro. Hector, thou sleep'st. 
 
 Aw ake thee ! 
 
 Agam. His blows are well dispos'd : — there, 
 Ajax ! 
 
 Dio. You must no more. [Trtnnpets cease.) 
 
 ^'Ene. Princes, enough, so please you. 
 
 Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again. 
 
 Dio. As Hector pleases. 
 
 Hect. Why then, will I no more : — 
 
 Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, 
 A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ; 
 The obligation of our l)lood forbids 
 A gory emulation 'tvvixt us twain : 
 Were thy commixlion Greek and Trojan so, 
 That thou could'st say — This hand is Grecian all, 
 And this is Trojnfi; the sineivs of this leg 
 All Greek, and this all Troy ; my mother's blood 
 Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister 
 Bounds in my father s; by Jove multipotent. 
 Thou should st not bear from me a Greekish memiier 
 Wherein my sword had not impressure made 
 Of our rank feud : But the just gods gainsay,. 
 That any drop thou borrow'st from thy moUjeE, 
 My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 
 Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : 
 By him that thunders, thon hast lusty arms.; 
 Hector would have thent fall upon him thus. 
 Cousin, all honour tc thee ! 
 
 Ajax, I thank thee. Hector. 
 
 Thon art too gentle, and too free a man : 
 I came to kill thee, consin, and bear hence 
 A great addition earned in thy death. 
 
 Hect. Not Neoptolemus so mirable 
 (On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O y 
 Cries, 77/(4" is he,) could promise to himself 
 A thought of added honour torn from Hector. 
 
 JFmc. There is expectance here from both the 
 sides. 
 What further you will do, 
 
 Hect. We'll answer it ; 
 
 The issue is embracement ; — Ajax, farewell. 
 
 Ajax. If I might in entreaties find succesN» 
 
532 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 f As seid 1 have tlie cliiince,) I would desire 
 My iauiDUS cousin to our Crrecian tf iits. 
 
 Dio. 'Tis Agauiemnon's wish : and great Achilles 
 Doth long lo see iiiiaiiii'd tiie valiant Hector. 
 
 Ilect. ^iieas, call my brother Troilus to me : 
 And signify this lo\ing interview 
 To the exjiecters of our Trojan part; 
 Desire tiieni home. — Give ine thy hand, mv cousin ; 
 i will go eat with thee, and see your knignts. 
 
 Aiax. Great Agamemnon conies to meet us here. 
 
 ilect. The worthiest of them tell me name by 
 name ; 
 But for Achilles, my own searching eyes 
 yiiall Hud him by his large and portly size. 
 
 Again. Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one 
 riiat would be rid of such an enemy; 
 But iJiai's no welcome : Undeistand more clear, 
 What's past, and what's to come, is sirew'd with 
 
 husks 
 And formless ruin of oblivion ; 
 But in this extant moment, faith and troth, 
 Strnin'd purely from all hollow bias drawing, 
 Bids thee, with most divine integrity, 
 From heart of very heart, great Hector, welc<>me. 
 
 Hecf. 1 thank thee, most imperious AgameaiiKni. 
 
 A<jam. My well tam'd lord ot Troy, no less to yuii. 
 
 ( To TroituH ) 
 
 Men. Let me confirm iny princely biotlier's 
 greeting : — 
 Yiiii brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. 
 
 Hi-ct. vVhum must we answer? 
 
 Me7i. 'J'he noble Menelans. 
 
 Hect. O you, ray lord? by Mars his gauntlet, 
 thanks! 
 Mock not, that I nlfect the untreaded oath; 
 Your quunUam wife swears still by Venus' glove : 
 She's well, but bade me not commend her to yon. 
 
 Men. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly 
 theme. 
 
 Hect. O, pardon; I offend. 
 
 Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, 
 Labouring for destiny, make cruel way 
 Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seen 
 
 thee. 
 As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
 Despising many f irfeits and subduements. 
 When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i'the air. 
 Not letting it decline on the decliii'd ; 
 That I have said to some my standers by, 
 Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealiny life ! 
 And I have seen tliee pause, and take thy breath. 
 When tliat a riiig of Greeks have heinm'd thee in. 
 Like an Olympian wrestling: Tiiis ha\e I seen; 
 But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, 
 I never saw till nosv. 1 knew thy graiulsire. 
 And once fought with him : he was a soldier good ; 
 But, by great Mars, tlie cajitainof us all, 
 Never like thee : Let an old man embrace thee; 
 And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 
 
 •line. 'Tis the old Nestor. 
 
 Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, 
 That hast so long walk'd hand in hand witli time ; — 
 Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. 
 
 Nest. I would, my arms could match thee in cou- 
 tention. 
 As they contend with thee in courtesy. 
 
 Hect. I would they could. 
 
 Nest. Hal 
 By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. 
 W^ll. welcome, welcome ! I have seen the time — 
 
 Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands, 
 When we have lieic her base and pillar by us. 
 
 Hect. 1 know your fivour, lord Ulysses, well. 
 All, sir, there's many a Greek and 'I'rojan dead, 
 Since first I saw jo.i self and Diomed 
 In Ilion. on your G'eeKish embassy. [ensue: 
 
 Uli/ss. Sir, I toreliild you then what would 
 My prophecy is but hall his journey yet. 
 For yT)nder walls, that pertly front your town, 
 Vob tijwers, whose wanton tops do buss the cloodst 
 
 Must kiss their own feet. 
 
 Hect. I must not believe you ■ 
 
 Tliere they stand yet; and modestly I think, i 
 The fall of every Plirygiaii stone will cost 
 A drop of Grecian blood : 'I'he end crowns all; 
 And that old cummon arbitrator, Time, 
 Will one day end it. 
 
 Ulyss. So to him we leave it. 
 
 Most gentle, and most valiant Hector, welcome : 
 After the general, I beseech you next 
 To feast with me, and see ine at my tent. 
 
 Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, thou ! — 
 Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee ; 
 I have with exact view perusd thee, Hector, 
 And quoted joint by joint. 
 
 Hecf. Is this Achilles ? 
 
 Achil. I am Achilles. 
 
 Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee : let me look on thee. 
 
 Achil. Behold thy fill. 
 
 Hect. Nay, I have done already. 
 
 Achil. Thou art too brief; I will the second time, 
 As I would bny thee, view thee limb by limb. 
 
 Hect. O, like a book of sport tlion'lt read me o'er; 
 But there's more in me than thou nndersfand'st. 
 Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? 
 
 Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part ol 
 his body 
 Shall I destroy him ? whether there, there, or there ? 
 That 1 may give the local wound a name; 
 And make distinct the very breach, whereout 
 Hector's |;reat spirit flew : Answer me, heavens ! 
 
 Hect. it would discredit the bless'd gods, proud 
 man, 
 To answer such a question : Stand again : 
 Think'st thon to catch my life so pleasantly. 
 As to iirenoniinate in nice conjecture, 
 Where thou wilt hit me dead? 
 
 Achil. I tell thee, yea. 
 
 Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, 
 I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well, 
 For III not kill thee tliere, nor tiiere, nor there; 
 But, by the forge that stlthied Mars his liebn, 
 I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. — 
 You wisest Grecians, parJoii nie this brag. 
 His insolence draws folly from my lips ; 
 But I'll endeavour deeds to matcii these words. 
 Or may I never — 
 
 Ajax. Do nut chafe thee, cousin ;— 
 
 And you, Achilles, let these threats alone. 
 Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't: 
 Y'dU may have every day enough of Hector, 
 If you have stomach ; the general state, 1 fear. 
 Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. 
 
 Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field ; 
 We have had pelting wars, since you refus'd 
 The Grecians' cause. 
 
 Achil. Dost thon entreat me. Hector f 
 
 To-morrow, do I meet thee, fell as death; 
 To night, all friends. 
 
 Hect. Thy hand npon that match. 
 
 Ayam. First, all you peers of Greece, co to mj 
 tent; 
 There in tne full convive we : afterwards. 
 As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall 
 Concur together, severally entreat him. — 
 Beat loud the labou lines, let the trumpets biow. 
 That this great soldier may his welcome know. 
 
 ■ [Exeunt all hut Troilus and Ulysses 
 
 Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you. 
 In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? 
 
 Ulyss. .At Menelans' tent, most princely I'loiliis: 
 There Diomed doth feast with him to night; 
 Who neitier looks upon the heaven, nor earth, 
 But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 
 On the fair Ciessid. [much, 
 
 Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so 
 After we part from Agamemnon's tent. 
 To bring me thither ? 
 
 Ulyss. You shall command me, sir. 
 
 As gentle tell me, of what honour was 
 
Act V. Scene 2. 
 
 TROrLUS AND CRESSTDA. 
 
 533 
 
 Tliis Cressida in Troy? had she no lover Ihere, 
 J'iiHt wiiils liei abbt nee ? 
 
 'i'ro. O, sir, to siic/i as boasting sliew their scars, 
 A mock is diif. Will yon walk on, my lord? 
 She was bdov'd, she lo\ 'd ; she is, and dotii : 
 Uut, still, sweet love is food i'or fortune's tooth. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The Grecian Camp. Before Achilles' 
 Tent. 
 
 Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 
 
 Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to- 
 nigiit. 
 Which witli my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. — 
 Pafroclds, let ns least him to the height. 
 
 Pair. Here conies Thersites. 
 
 Enter Thersites. 
 
 Achil. How now, thon core of envy ? 
 
 Thou criistv batch of iiatnie, what's the news? 
 
 Titer, Why, th m ( ictiire of what thon seemest, 
 and idol of idiot \\ orsliippers, here's a letter Ibr tlu e. 
 
 Achil. From wieii'f, franinent / 
 
 Ther. VVhy, tlion f dl dish offani, from Tioy. 
 
 Patr. Who keeps the tent now / 
 
 Ther. The snrgeon's box, or tlie ^iatient's wound. 
 
 Patr. W'ell Sidd, Adversity ! and what need 
 these tricks? 
 
 Ther. Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by 
 thy talk : thon art thoni^ht to be Achilles' male 
 varlet. 
 
 Pr/^r. Male varlet, yon rogue! Whit's (hat? 
 
 Titer. VVhy, his rnascidme whore. Now the 
 rotten diseases o( the South, the gutsgri|)iiig, rnp- 
 tures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back, ietliargies, 
 cold palsies, raw ejes, dirt-rotten hveis, wheezing 
 Inngs, bladders lull ot imposthiune, sci itiias, lime- 
 kilns I'the palm.iucnrable bone-ache, and the rivelhd 
 i'ee simple of the tetter, take and take again such 
 preposterotis discoveries ! 
 
 Patr. W^liy, thou damnable box of envy, thou, 
 ^\lr't tiie.inest then to curse thus? 
 
 Titer. Do I cuise tiiee? 
 
 Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson 
 iiid.-iliiignis;iable cur, no. 
 
 Tier. No ;' why art thou then exasperate, thou 
 idle immaterial skein of slei\e silk, thou green 
 sarcenet flap tor a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodi 
 gal's purse, thon? Ah, how the poor world is 
 pestered with such water -tlies; aiminutives ol' 
 nature ! 
 
 Patr. Out, gall ! 
 
 Ther. Finch egg ! 
 
 Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite 
 From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. 
 Here is a letter from queen Heciiba; 
 A token from her daughter, my fair love; 
 Both taxiny me, and g^iging me to keep 
 An (liilh that 1 have sworn. 1 will not break it : 
 Fall, Greeks; (ail, (ante; honour, or go, or stay ; 
 My nii'jor vow lies here, this I'll obey. — 
 Come, come, Toersitfs, help to trim my tent; 
 This night in baiKjneting must all be spent. — 
 Away, Patroclus. 
 
 [Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 
 Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, 
 these two may run mad ; but if with too iiiiich 
 brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer 
 of madmen. Heie's Aganu'iiinon, — an honest fel- 
 low enough, and one ttiat lines qiimls; but he has 
 not so much biain as ear-wax : And toe goodly 
 transformation of .Jupiter there, lis brotiier, tiie 
 bull, — the primitise statue, and oblique memonal 
 ot cuckolds; a tin illy shoeing - horn in a chain, 
 hanging at his brotht rs leg. — to u hat form, b\it that 
 he IS, should wit larded with malice, and malice 
 
 forced with wit, turn him to; 
 
 To nn asis, were 
 notiiiiig; he is bcto ass and ox : to an ox, were 
 nothing ; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a 
 
 mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an ow!, a 
 piittock, or a herring without a roe, I would not 
 care ; but to be jMenelaus, — 1 would conspire against 
 destiny. Ask me not wdiat I would be, if T were 
 not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a 
 lazar. so I were not Menelaiis. Hey-dav ! spirits 
 and fires ! 
 
 Enter Hector, Troilus. Ajax, Acaimkmnon, 
 Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and Diomku! 
 tvitk lights 
 
 Afjam, We go wrong, we go wrong. 
 ■Ajax. No, yonder tis; 
 
 Ihere, where we see (he lights. 
 Heel. I trouble you. 
 
 Ajax. No, not a whit. 
 Uiyss. Here comes himself to guide joa. 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 
 Achil. Welcome, brave Hector : welcome, princes 
 all. ' 
 
 Agatn. So, now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good 
 night. 
 Ajax commands (he guard to tend on you. 
 
 Hect. Thanks, and good night, to' the Greeks' 
 
 general. 
 Men. Good night, my lord. 
 Hect. Good night, sweet Menelaus. 
 
 Ther. Sweet draught: Sweet, quoth 'a! sweet 
 sink, sweet sewer. 
 
 Achil. (Jodd ninht. 
 And welcome, both (o those that go, or tarry. 
 Aijam. Good nigh(. 
 
 \Exe.iint Ayamemncn and Menelaus, 
 Achil. Old Nestor tairies; and you too, Dionied, 
 Keep Hector company an hour or two. 
 
 Die. I cannot, lord ; I have important business. 
 The tide w hereof IS now. — Good night, great Hector. 
 Hect. CJive me your hand. 
 
 Ult/ss. Follow his torch, he goes 
 
 To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. 
 
 {A.<itde to Troilus. 
 Tro. Sweet sir, you honour nie. 
 Hect. _ And so good night. 
 
 [Exit Diomed; Uiyss. and Tro.fvllouinrj. 
 Achil. Come, come, enter mv lent. 
 
 \Exeunt Achil. Hector, Ajax, and Nest 
 Ther. That same Diomed's a false lit arted r gne 
 a most unjust kna\e ; I will no more (rust him wlien 
 he leers, than I will a seqient when he hisses: he 
 will spend his mouth, and promise, like IJrah'er the 
 hound; but when he (lerforms, astronomers f retel 
 it; it is prodigious, there wdl come some rii.i.ge; 
 the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps 
 his word. I will rather leave to see Herdo. (han 
 not to dog him . fhey say, he keeps a Trojan drab, 
 and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: PJI afier. — No- 
 thing but lechery! all incontinent varlets! [Exit. 
 
 Scene U.—The same. Before Calchas' Toil. 
 
 Enter DlOiMEDES. 
 Dio. What, are you up here, ho? speak. 
 Cal. [Witliin.] Who calls? 
 Dio. Diomed. — Calchas, I think. — Where's your 
 daughter? 
 
 Cal. [Within.] She comes to you. 
 
 Enter Troilus and Ulysses, at a distance ; after 
 them Thersites. 
 
 Uli/ss. Stand where the torch may not discover us. 
 
 Enter Cressida. 
 Tro. Cressid, come forth to him ! 
 
 Ho 
 
 Dio. tiiiw now, my cliarge : 
 
 Cres. Now, my sweet guardian !— Hark ! a word 
 
 wi(h you. (Whispers.) 
 Tro. Yea, so familiar ! 
 
 Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight. 
 'I'her. And any man may sing her, if he can take 
 her ciitf ; she's noted. 
 
534 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Dio. Will you remember? 
 Cre s. Re me rnbe r ? — yes. 
 
 JJio. Nay, but do then ; 
 
 And let your mind be coupled with your words. 
 
 Tro. What should she remember? 
 
 Ul>/ss, List ! 
 
 Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to 
 folly. 
 
 Titer. Roguery ! \ 
 
 Dio. Nay, then, — 
 
 Cres. I'll tell you what: 
 
 Dio. Pho ! pho ! come, tell a pin : You are for- 
 sworn, — 
 
 Cres. In faith, I cannot : What would you have 
 me do ? 
 
 Ther. A juggling trick, to be — secretly open. 
 
 Dio. What did you swear you would bestow on 
 me? 
 
 Crea. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath ; 
 Bid ine do any thing but that, sweet Greek. 
 
 Dio. Good night. 
 
 Tro. Hold, patience ! 
 
 Ulyss. How now, Trojan ? 
 
 Cres. Diomed, 
 
 Dio. No, no, good night : I'll be your fool no 
 more. 
 
 Tro. Thy better mnst. 
 
 Cres. Hark ! one word in your ear. 
 
 Tro. O plague and madness ! 
 
 Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince ; let us depart, I 
 pray you. 
 Lest your dis|'Ieasure should enlarge itself 
 To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; 
 The time right deadly ; 1 beseech you, go. 
 
 Tro. Behold, I pray you ! 
 
 Ulyss. Now, good my lord, go off: 
 
 ViMi flow to great destruction ; come, my lord. 
 
 Tro. I pr'ythee, stay. 
 
 Ulyss. You have not patience ; come. 
 
 Tro. I pray you, stay; by hell, and all hell's 
 I will not speak a word. [torments, 
 
 Dio. And so, good night. 
 
 Cres. Nay, but you part in an^jer. 
 
 Tro. Doth that grieve thee ? 
 
 wither'd truth ! 
 
 Ulyss. Why, how now, lord ? 
 
 Tro. • By Jove, 
 
 1 will be patient. 
 
 Cres. Guardian! — why, Greek! 
 
 Dio. Pho, pho ! adieu ; you palter. 
 
 Cres. In faith, I do not; come hither once again. 
 
 Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something; will 
 Vou will break out. [you go? 
 
 Tro. She strokes his cheek ! 
 
 Ulyss. _ Come, come. 
 
 Tro. Nay, stay ; by Jove, I will not speak a word : 
 There is between my will and all offences 
 A guard of patience ; — stay a little while. 
 
 Tlier. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, 
 and putatoe finger, tickles these together! Fry, 
 lechery, fry I 
 
 Dio. But will you then? 
 
 Ores. In faith, I will, la ; never trust me else. 
 
 Dio. Give uje some token for the surety of it. 
 
 Cres. I'll fetch you one. [Exit. 
 
 Ulyss. You have sworn patience. 
 
 Tro. Fear me not, my lord : 
 
 I lihl not be myself, nor have cognition 
 Oi wbrat I feel ; I am all patience. 
 
 Re-enter Cressida. 
 T/ier. Now the pledge ; now, now, now ! 
 Cres. Hre, Diomed, keep this sleeve. 
 Tro. O beauty ! where's thy faith ? 
 Ulyss. My lord,— 
 
 Tro. 1 will be patient ; outwardly, I will. 
 Cres. You look upon that sleeve ; Behold it well. — 
 He lov'd me — O filse wench! — Giv't me again. 
 Dio. Who was't? 
 Cres. No matter, now I have't again. 
 
 I will not meet with yon to-morrow night . 
 I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more. 
 
 T/ier. Now she .sharpens: — Well said, whetstonti 
 
 Dio. I shall liave it. 
 
 Cres. What, this ? - 
 
 Dio. .Ay, that. 
 
 Cres. O, all yoii gods ! — O pretty, pretty pledge 1 
 Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
 Of thee, and nie ; and sighs, and takes my glove. 
 And gives memorial dainty kisses to it. 
 As I kiss thee. — Nay, do not snatch it freni me; 
 He that takes that, must take my heart withal. 
 
 Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it. 
 
 Tro. I did swear patience. 
 
 Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed : 'faith, yon 
 shall not ; 
 I'll give you something else. 
 
 Dio. I will have this ; Whose was it? 
 
 Cres. 'Tis no matter. 
 
 Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. [will. 
 
 Cres. 'Twas one's that loved me better than you 
 But, now you have it, take it. 
 
 Dio. Whose was it ? 
 
 Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder. 
 And by herself, I will not tell you whose. 
 
 Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm ; 
 And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. 
 
 Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy 
 It should be challeng'd. [horn, 
 
 Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis pa.st; — And yet 
 it is not; 
 I will not keep my word. 
 
 Dio. Why then, farewell ; 
 Thou never shall mock Diomed again. 
 
 Cres. You shall not go : — one cannot speak a 
 But it straight starts you. (word, 
 
 Dio. I do not like this fooling. 
 
 Ther. Nor I, by Pluto : but that, that likes not 
 you, ple<tses me best. 
 
 Dio- What, shall I come? the hour? 
 
 Cres. Ay, come : — O Jove ! — 
 
 Do come : — I shall be plagu'd. 
 
 Dio. Farewell till then. 
 
 Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come. — 
 
 [Exit Diomedes. 
 Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ; 
 But with my heart the other eye doth see. 
 Ah ! poor our sex ! this fault in us I find, 
 The error of our eye directs our mind : 
 What error leads, must err ; O then conclude, 
 Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude. {Exit. 
 
 Ther. A proof of strength she could not publish 
 more. 
 Unless she said. My mind is now turn'd whore. 
 
 Ulyss. All's done, my lord. 
 
 Tro. It is. 
 
 Ulyss. Why stay we then? 
 
 Tro. To ma?-.e a recordation to my soul 
 Of every syllable that here was spoke. 
 But, if 1 tell how these two did co-act. 
 Shall I not lie in publishing a truth ? 
 Sith yet there is a credence in my heart. 
 An esnerance so obstinately strong. 
 That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ; 
 As if those organs had deceptions functions. 
 Created only to calumniate. 
 Was Cressid here ? 
 
 Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan. 
 
 Tro. She was not, sure, 
 
 Ulyss. Most sure 'she was. 
 
 Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. 
 
 Ulyta. Nor mine, my lor/1, Cressid was here but 
 now. , , 1 
 
 Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood ! 
 Think, we had mothers ; do not give advantage 
 To stubborn critics— apt, without a theme. 
 For depravation.- to square the general sex 
 By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid. 
 
 Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can .soil 
 our mothers ? 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 535 
 
 Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. 
 
 Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? 
 
 'Tro. This she ? no, this is Diomed's Cressida : 
 ff beauty have a soul, this is not she ; 
 If souls guide vows, if vows he sanctimony, 
 If sanctimony be the gods' delight. 
 If there be rule in unity itself; 
 'J his was not she. O madness of discoarse, 
 'I'hat cause sets up with and against itself! 
 Bi-(bl<i authority! where reason can revolt 
 Without perdition, and loss assume all reason 
 Without revolt ; this is, and is not, Cressid ! 
 Within my soul there doth commence a fight 
 Of this strange nature, that a thing insejiarate 
 Divides more wider than the sky and earth ; 
 And yet the spacious breaiKh oltiiis division 
 Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle 
 As is Arachne's broken woof, to enter. 
 Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates; 
 Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven: 
 'nstance, O instance ! strong as heaven itself; 
 The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and 
 
 loos'd ; 
 And with another knot, five-finger tied. 
 The fiactions of her faiti), orts of her love, 
 Tiie fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques 
 Of her o'ereaten faith, are bound to Diomed. 
 
 Ulyss, May worthy Troilus be half atlach'd 
 Witli that which here his passion doth express? 
 
 Tro. Ay, Greek ; and that shall be divulged well 
 fn characters as red as Mars his heart 
 Inflam'd with Venus : never did young man fancy 
 With so eternal and so fix'd a sonl. 
 Hark, Greek ; — As much as I do Cressid love. 
 So much by weight hate I her Diomed. 
 That sleeve is mine, that he'll btaron his helm ; 
 Were it a casque conipos'd by Vulcan's skill. 
 My sword should bite it : not tlie dreadful spout. 
 Which shipmen do the hiirricano call, 
 Constring'd in mass by the almifjiily sun, 
 Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear 
 In his descent, than shall my prompted sword 
 i'alling on Diomed. 
 
 Ther. He'll tickle it f )r his concupy. 
 
 Tro. O Cressid I O lalse Crt'ssid I false, false 
 false ! 
 Let all untruths stand by thy stained name. 
 And they'll seem glorious. 
 
 Ulyss. O, contain yoiu\seU ; 
 
 Vour passion drnws ears hither. 
 
 Enter j^NEAS. 
 JEne. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord ■ 
 Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy ; 
 .Ajax. your guard, stays to conduct you home. 
 
 Tro. Have with you, j<rince : — My courteous 
 lord, adieu :— 
 I' irewell, revolted fair! — and, Diomed, 
 Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head ! 
 Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates. 
 Tro. Accept distracted thanks. 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus, uEneas, and Ulysses. 
 Ther. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed ! 
 I would croak like a ra\en ; 1 would bode. I would 
 bjde. Patroclus will give me any thing for the in- 
 telligence of this whore : the parrot will not do 
 more for an almond, than he for a commodious 
 drab. Lechery, lechery; still wars and lechery; 
 nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take 
 them ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — Troy. Before Priam's Palace. 
 
 Enter Hector and Andromache. 
 And. When was my lord so mur.h migently tein- 
 To stop his ears against admonishment ■' [perd, 
 
 Unarm, imarin, and do not fight today. 
 
 Hect. You train me to offend \ou ; get you in ; 
 By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. 
 
 And. My dreams will, sure, prove omiiious to 
 
 the day. 
 Hect. No more, 1 say. 
 
 Enter Cassandra. 
 
 Cos. Where is my brother ripcior : 
 
 And. Here, sister: arm'd, anri hldoily in iutei.t: 
 Consort with me in loud and Hear pctiiioii. 
 Pursue we him on knees ; for I have rlrt- aui'd 
 Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night 
 Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. 
 
 Cas. O, it is true. 
 
 Hect. Ho ! bid my trmnpet sound ! 
 
 Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet 
 brother. 
 
 Hect. Begone, I say: the gods ha\e heard me 
 swear. 
 
 Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; 
 They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd 
 Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 
 
 And. O ! be persunded ; Do not count it holy 
 To hurt by being just: it is as lawful, 
 For we would give much, to use vinlent thells. 
 And rob in the behalf ot' charily. 
 
 Cas. It is the pur()ose, that makes strocg the 
 vow ; 
 But vows, to every purpose, must not hold : 
 Unarm, sweet Hector. 
 
 Hect. Hold you still, I say; 
 
 Mine honour keeps the weather <if my fate : 
 Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man 
 Holds honour tar more precious-dear than life. 
 
 Enter TitoiLUS. 
 How now, young man ? mean'st thou to fight to-day ^ 
 
 And. Cassandra, call my father to persuadi'. 
 
 [Exit Cassandra 
 
 Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy liarmss, 
 youth, 
 I am to-day i'the vein of chivalry : 
 Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, 
 .4nd tempt not yet the brushes of the war. 
 Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, 
 I'll stand, to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy. 
 
 Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, 
 Which better fits a lion, than a man. 
 
 Hect. W'hat vice is that, good Troilus .' chide 
 me lor it. 
 
 Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall. 
 Even in the fan and wind of your fair svvnrd, 
 \ oil bid them rise, and live. 
 
 Hect. O, 'tis fair play. 
 
 Ti-o. Fool's play, by heav en. Hector. 
 
 Hect. How now i how now ? 
 
 2Vo. For the love of all tlue gods, 
 
 Let's leave the hermit pity with our niothei ; 
 And when we have our armours buckled on. 
 The venom'd vengeance riile upon our svvomIs ; 
 Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth. 
 
 Hect. Fy, savage, ty I 
 
 Tro. Hector, then 'tis wnrs. 
 
 Hect. TroWwR, I would not have you fight to-day. 
 
 Tro. Who should withhold me ? 
 Not fate, obedience, nor tiie hand of Mars 
 Beckoning with fii-rv truncheon n.y retire: 
 Not Priamus and Hecuba on knt es, 
 l^heir eyes o'ergalled with lecoi se of tears ; 
 Nor you, my brother, with you' irue sword drawn. 
 Oppos'd to hinder me, shoidd stop my way, 
 But by my ruin. 
 
 Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam. 
 
 Cass. L:iy hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast; 
 He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay, 
 Thou on him leaning, and ail Troy on thee. 
 Fall all together. 
 
 Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back : 
 
 Thy wife hath drei.m'd ; thy mother hath had visions; 
 Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself 
 Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt, 
 To tell thee — that ti.js diy is ominous; 
 Therefore, come back. 
 
 Hect. .Eneas is a-field; 
 
o86 
 
 TROILUS AND ORESSTDA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, 
 Even in the faith oi \alour, to appear 
 Tliis morning to them. 
 
 Pri. But thou shall not go. 
 
 Hect. I must not brealc my faith: 
 You know me dntilVil ; therefore, dear sir, 
 Let me not shame respect; but give me leave 
 To take that course by your consent and voice, 
 Which yon do here forbid me, royal Priam. 
 
 Cas. O Priam, yield not to him. 
 
 And. Do not, dear father. 
 
 Hert. Andromache, I am offended with you : 
 Upon tJie love you bear me, get you in. 
 
 [Exit Andromache. 
 
 Tro, This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl 
 Makes all these boclements. 
 
 Cas. O farewell, dear Hector, 
 
 Look, how thou diest ! look, how thy eye turns pale ! 
 Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents ! 
 Hark, how 'J'roy roars! how Hecuba cries out! 
 How |)oor Andromache shrills her dolors fortli I 
 Behold, destruction, frenzy, and amazement. 
 Like witless antics, one another meet. 
 And ail cry — Hector! Hector's dead ! O, Hector! 
 
 Tro. Away ! — Away ! — 
 
 Cas. Farewell ! — Yet, soft Hector, I take my 
 leave : 
 Thou dost tliyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit. 
 
 Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim : 
 Go in, nnd clieer the town : we'll forth, and light; 
 Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night. 
 
 Pri. Farewell : the gods with safety stand about 
 thee ! 
 
 [Exeunt severally Priam and Hector. 
 Alarums. 
 
 Tro. They are at it ; hark ! Proud Dioined, be- 
 lieve, 
 I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. 
 
 As Troilus is going otit, enter, from the other side, 
 Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. Do you hear, my lord ? do you hear ? 
 
 Tro. Wliat now i 
 
 Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl. 
 
 Tro, Let uie read. 
 
 Pan, A whoreson ptisick, a whoreson rascally 
 ptisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of 
 this girl; and what one thing, what another, that 1 
 shall leave you one o'these days : And 1 have a 
 rheum in mine eyes too; and such an ache in my 
 bones, that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell 
 what to think on't. — What says slie there ? 
 
 Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter from 
 the heart; {Teariny the letter.) 
 
 The effect doth ojjerate another way. — 
 Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. — 
 My love with words and errors still slie feeds ; 
 But edifies another with her deeds. 
 
 {Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene IV. — Bettveen Troy and the Grecian Camp. 
 Alarums : Excjirsions. Enter Thersites. 
 Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one another : 
 I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var- 
 let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting I'ool- 
 ish young knaxe's sleeve of 'I'roy there, in his helm : 
 I would fain see them meet ; that that same Tro- 
 jan ass, that loves the whore there, might send that 
 Greekisli whoremasterly villain, witii the sleeve, 
 back to the disseiubling luxurious drab, on a sleeve- 
 less errand. O' tiie other side, the policy of those 
 crafty swearing rascals, — that stale old mouse- 
 eaten dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox, 
 Ulysses, — is not proved worth a blackberry : — They 
 set nie up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against 
 that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles : and now is the 
 cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not 
 arm to day; whereupon the Grecians begin to pro- 
 cjaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opi- 
 eion. Soft! here come sleeve, and t'other. 
 
 Enter DiOMEDES, Troilvs followinff. 
 
 Tro. Fly not; for, should'st thou take the rirer 
 I would swim after. (Styx 
 
 Dio. Thou dost miscall retire : 
 
 I do not fly ; but advantageofis care 
 Withdrew me from the odds of multitude : 
 Have at thee! 
 
 Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian ! — now f >r thy 
 
 whore, Trojan ! — now the sleeve, novv the f^lee\e I 
 
 [Exeunt Troilus and Diomedes, Jightiny. 
 
 Enter HECroR. 
 
 Hect. What art thou, Greek, art thou fur Hec- 
 tor's match ? 
 Art thou of blood, and honour? 
 
 Ther. No, no : I am a rascal ; a scurv y railing 
 knave ; a very filthy rogue. 
 
 Hect. I do beliexe tiiee ; — live. [Exit. 
 
 Ther. God-a-inercy, that thou wilt helleie me; 
 B'lt a plague break ihy nerk, for frighting me! 
 What's become of the wenchiig ro;;ues ? I think, 
 they have swaliowed one anotlier : I wouhl laugh at 
 that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. 
 Ill seek tl>en). [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. 
 
 Enter DiOMEDES and a Servant, 
 
 Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse: 
 Presf'ut the fair steed to my lady Cressid : 
 Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ; 
 Tell her, I have cliastis'd the amorous Trojan 
 And am her knight by proof. 
 
 Serv. I go, my lord. [Exit, 
 
 Enter Agamemnon. 
 
 Ayam. Renew, renew ! The fierce Polydamus 
 Hath beat dtiwti Menon : bastard Margarelon 
 Hath Doreus prisoner; 
 
 And stands colossus-wise, waxing his beam, 
 U|)On the paslied corses of the kings 
 Epistroplius and Cedius : Polixeoes is slain; 
 Ampliin)achus, and Thoas, deadly hurt; 
 Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palauiedes 
 Sore hurt and bruis'd : the dreadful Sagittary 
 Appals our numbers; haste we, Diomed, 
 'I'o reinforcement, or we perish all. 
 
 Enler Nestor. 
 
 Nes. Go, bear Patroclus' bo ly to Ac'.illes; 
 And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax ar.u for shame. 
 There is a thousanil Hectors in the tield : 
 Novv here he tigi.tson Galaihe his IrOise, 
 And there la.;'hS work ; anon, he's there afoot. 
 And there they fly, or die, l.ke scaled sculls 
 Beli)re thr beli hing wi.ale ; tiien is he yonder. 
 And there the strawy Grc-eks, ripe lor liis edge. 
 Fall down be. ore hnn, like the mower's suath : 
 Here, there, und every where, he leaves, and takes; 
 Dexterity so obeying appetite, 
 That what he uili. he does; and does so miicb. 
 That proof is call'd impossibility. 
 
 Enter Ulysses. 
 
 Ulyss. O, courage, courage, princes \ grea 
 
 Achil es 
 Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing xengeance : 
 Patroclus' wounds ha.e rous'd his dropsy blood. 
 Together wilh his ma sgled Myrmidons. 
 That noseless, handhss, hack'd and chipp'd, come 
 
 to him. 
 Crying on Heitor. Ajax hath lost a friHud, 
 
 And foauis at ith. and he is arm'd, and at it. 
 
 Roaring for Troilus; who hatli done to day 
 Mad and fantastic execution ; 
 *Iingaj;ing and redeeming of himself, 
 With such a careless f uce, and forceless c ire. 
 As if that luck, in very spite of cunning. 
 Bade him wiu all. 
 
Scene 11. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 537 
 
 Enter Ajax. 
 
 AJax, Troilus! thou coward Troilns! [Exit. 
 
 Uio. Ay, there, there. 
 
 Nest. So, so, we draw together. 
 
 £M^er Achilles. 
 
 Achil. Where is tliis Hector? 
 
 Come, come, thou boy-qiieller, shew thy face; 
 Know what it is to meet Acliilles angry. 
 Hector! wiiere's Hector? 1 will none bnt Hector. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene W.~ Another part of the Field. 
 Enter AjaX. 
 Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, shew thy 
 head! 
 
 Enter Diomedes. 
 
 Dto, Troilus, I say! where's Troilus? 
 Ajax. VVhat would'st thou? 
 
 J)iu. [ would correct him. 
 
 Ajax. \Vere I the general, thou should'st have 
 my office. 
 Ere that correction : — Troilus, I say I what, Troilus ! 
 
 Enter Troilus. 
 
 Tro. O traitor Diomed I — turn thy false face, 
 
 thuu traitor, 
 And pay thy liie thou ow'st me for my horse ' 
 Dto. Hi* ! ^rt thou there ? 
 
 Ajrix. I'll tij;ht with him alone : stand, Diomed. 
 2Jio. He is my prize, I will not look upon. ' 
 
 Tro, Coiiie bolh, you cogging Greeks; hiive at 
 
 you both. [Exeunt Ji(j/Uin<j. 
 
 Enter Hector. I 
 
 Hect. Yea, Troilus? O well fought, my youngest , 
 brother! I 
 
 Enter Achilles. 
 
 A(^iil. Now do I see thee : — Ha ! — Have at thee, 
 
 Heel. Pause, if thou wilt. [Hector. 
 
 Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, |ro"d Trojan. 
 Be liapiiy.that my arms are out of use : i 
 
 My rest and negligence belnend tliee now. 
 Bill thou aiioii slialt hear of me again ; i 
 
 'I'lll when, go seek thy fortune. [E.xit. j 
 
 licet Fare thee well :— I 
 
 I would ha\e been much more a fresher nrm. 
 Had I exiiected thee. — How now, my brother? 
 
 Re-enter Troilus. 
 Tro: Ajax hath taen jEneas ; Shall it be? 
 No, by the tlauie of yonder glorious hea\en, 
 He shall not carry him ; I'll be taken too, 
 Or bring him olf : — Fate, hear me what 1 say! 
 I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Exit. 
 
 Enter one in sumptuous armour. 
 
 Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a 
 goodly mark : — 
 No ? wilt thou not? — I like thy armour well : 
 I'll fnish it, and unlock the rivets all, 
 But 111 be niaster of it : — Wilt thou not, beast, 
 
 abide ? 
 Why then, ily on, I'll hint thee for thy hide. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene \ 11.— The same. 
 • Enter Achilles, with Myrmidons. 
 Achil. Come here about me, \ou my lAlyrmidons: 
 Mark wtial I say. — Atteud me where I wheel: 
 Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath 
 And when I have the bloody Hector found, 
 Empale liiu) with your weapons round about; 
 In iellist manner execute your arms. 
 Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye : — 
 It is decreed — Hector Uie great must die. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene yU\.— The. same. 
 Enter Menelaus and Paris, Jiyhting : then 
 
 iHliUSITES. 
 
 Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold maker are 
 at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! 
 now my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo, Paris, 'loo ! 
 The bull has the game : — 'ware horns, ho ! 
 
 [Exeu7it Paris and Menelaus. 
 Enter Margarelon. 
 
 Mar, Turn, slave, and fight. 
 
 Ther. What art thou ? 
 
 Mar. A bast;ird son of Priam's. 
 
 Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I 
 am .a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bustard in 
 mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. 
 One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should 
 one bastard ? Take heed, the quarrel's most omi- 
 nous to us ; if the son of a whore fight for a whore, 
 he tempti judgment : Farewell, bastard. 
 
 Mar. Tiie devil take thee, coward ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IX. — Another part of the Field. 
 Enter Hector. 
 Hect. Most )>iitiitied core, so fair without. 
 Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy lile. 
 Now IS my days work done ; I'll take good breath : 
 Rest, sword ; thou hast tliy till of blood and death ! 
 (Puis off his helmet, and hangs his shield 
 behind him.J 
 
 Enter Achilles and Myrtnidons. 
 
 Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set ; 
 How ugly night> comes bieathing at his heels: 
 Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun. 
 To close the day up. Hector's life is doiie. 
 
 Hect. I am unarm'd: forego this 'vantage, Greek. 
 
 Achil. Strike, fellows, strike ; this is the man 1 
 seek. {Hector jails.) 
 
 So, I lion, fall thou next! Now, Troy, sink down ; 
 Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. — 
 On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, 
 Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. 
 
 [A retreat sounded.) 
 Hark \ a retreat upon our Grecian part. 
 
 Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. 
 
 Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the 
 earth. 
 And, stickler-like, the armies separates. 
 My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, 
 Pleas'd with t.iis dainty bit, thus goes to bed. — 
 
 (Sheathes his sword.J 
 Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ; 
 Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt 
 
 • Scene X. — The same. 
 
 Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nestor, 
 Diomedes, and others marching. Hhouis icithin. 
 
 Auani. Hark ! hark ! what shout is that ? 
 
 Nest. , Peace, drums. 
 
 (Within.. Achilles! 
 
 Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles! 
 
 Dio. The bruit is — Hector's slain, and by Achilles. 
 
 Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be ! 
 Great Hector was as good a man as he. 
 
 Ayam. March patiently along: — Let one beseol 
 To pray Achilles see us at our tent. — 
 If in his death the gods have us befriended. 
 Great Troy is ours, and our shar|) wars are ei-ded 
 
 [Exeunt marching 
 
 Scene XT. — Another part of the Field. 
 Enter .■Eneas and Trojans 
 JEne. Stand, ho ! yet are we masters of t!ie field 
 Ne\er go home ; here starve we out the uiglit. 
 
 Enter Troilus. 
 Tro. Hector is slain. 
 All. Hector ?— The gods forbidl 
 
538 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSID/ 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Tro. He's dead; and at t!ie murderer's horse's 
 tail, 
 fn beastly sort, drags'd through the shameful field. — 
 Frown oil, you heavens, effect your rase with speed ! 
 Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy I 
 I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy. 
 And linger not dur sure destruction on! 
 
 Aim. My lord, you do discomfort all the host, 
 " Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so: 
 I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ; 
 But dare all imminence, that gods and men 
 Address their dangers in. Hector is gone ! 
 Wh<9 shall tell Friam so, or Hecuba? 
 Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, 
 Go into Troy, and say there — Hector's dead : 
 There is a w'ord will Priam turn to stone ; 
 Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, 
 Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, 
 Scare Troy out of itself. But, marcii, away : 
 Hector is dead ; there is no more to say. 
 Stay yet; — You vile abominable tents, 
 Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, 
 Let Titan rise as early as he dare, 
 I'll through and through you 1— And thou, great- 
 
 siz'd coward ! 
 No space of earth shall sunder our two hates ; 
 I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, 
 That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.— 
 Strike a free march to Troy ! — with comfort go : 
 Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. 
 
 [Exeunt A'lneas fmd Trqjajis, 
 
 As Tv.oiL\isUjwtng out, enters, from the other side, 
 Pandarus. 
 
 Pan. But hear you, hear yon ! 
 Tro. Hence, broker lackey ! ignomy and shame 
 Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name. 
 
 [Exit Troilus. 
 Pan. A goodly med'cuie for mj aching bones !— 
 O world 1 world ! world ! thus la the poor agent 
 despis'd ! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly aro 
 you set a' work, and how ill requited I Why should 
 our endeavour be so loved, and the perforniance so 
 loathed ? what verse for it ? what instance for it '? — 
 Let me see : — 
 
 Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, 
 Till he hath lost his honeyj and his sting: 
 And being once subdued in armed tail, 
 Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. — 
 Good traders in the flesh, set thiu in your painted 
 cloths. 
 As many as be here of pander's hall, 
 Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall : 
 Or, if yon cannot weep, yet give some groans, 
 Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. 
 Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade. 
 Some two months hence my will shall here be made 
 It should be now, but that my fear is this, — 
 Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: 
 Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for easts ; 
 And, at tint time, bequeath you ray diseases. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 The play of Timon is a domestic trnpedy, and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of the render lu tha 
 plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The tatasironho 
 ati'ords a verv powerlul warning against tliat ostentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, bul confers no ben<iiis 
 and buys Hattery, but not friendship. ' 
 
 In this tragedy, arc many passages perplexed, and proV.ably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify o 
 explain with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot pioiiiise mjself that my endeavours shall be m'uc' 
 applauded. Jolmson 
 
 I 
 
 much 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 TIMON, a noble Athenian 
 
 LUCIUS, J 
 
 LUCULLUS, > Lords, and Flatterers of Timon. 
 
 SEMPKONIUS, \ 
 
 VENTIDIUS, one qf Timon's false Friends. 
 
 Al'EMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher. 
 
 ALCIlllADES, an Athenian General. 
 
 FLAVIUS. Steward to Timon. 
 
 FLAWINIUS, t 
 
 LUCILIUS, > Timon's Servants. 
 
 SERVILIUS, ) 
 
 CAHHiS, . 
 
 I'H (LOTUS, ) 
 
 TiTl'S, > Servatits to Timon's Creditors. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 UOKTliNSIUS. 
 
 J 
 
 Two Servants of Varro. 
 
 T/.e Si-nmnt of Isidore. 
 
 Ttio (f Timon s Crtditors. 
 
 Citpiri and Maskers. 
 
 Three Strangers. 
 
 I'OH. 
 
 fainter. 
 
 Jrwelier. 
 
 Merchant. 
 
 An old Athenian 
 
 A Page.— a Fool. < 
 
 PHRYNIA, ) „. , , A, .,. ^ 
 
 TliVIANDKA. J Mistresses to Alciliades. 
 
 Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves, end 
 Attendant.'^. , 
 
 Scene,— ^ thens ; and the Woods adjoininj. 
 
 ACT I, 
 
 Scene I. — Athens. A Hall in Timon's Hotise. 
 
 Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and 
 others, at several doors. 
 
 Poet. Good day, sir. 
 
 Pain. I am glad you are well. 
 
 Poet. I have not seen you long; rlow goes the 
 world ? 
 
 Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. 
 
 Poet. Ay, that's well known : 
 
 But what particular rarity ? what strange, 
 Which nianiibld record not matches? See, 
 Magic of bounty ! all these spirits thv power 
 Hath conjiir'd to attend. I know the merchant 
 
 Pain. I know thera both ; t'other's a jeweller. 
 
 Mer. O, 'tis a wortliy lord ! 
 
 Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. 
 
 Mer. A most incomparable man ; breath'd, as it 
 were. 
 To an untirable and continaate goodness : 
 He passes. 
 
 Jpto. I have a jewel here. [sir ? 
 
 Mer. O. prav, let's see't: For the lord Timon, 
 
 Jew. If lie will touch the estimate : But, for that — 
 
 Poet. TVhen we for recompense have prais'd 
 the vile, 
 ft stains the glory in that happy verse 
 Which aptly sings the good. 
 
 Mer. 'Tis a ^ood form. 
 
 {Looking at the jewel.) 
 
 Jew. And rich ; here is a water, look you. 
 
 Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some 
 dedication 
 To the gi-eat lord. 
 
 Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. 
 
 Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes 
 I'Vom whence 'tis nourished : The fire i'the flint 
 Shows not, till it be struck ; our gentle flame 
 F'rovokes itself, and, like the current, flies 
 Each bound it chafes. What have you there ? 
 
 Pain. A picture, sir — And when comes your 
 book forth ? 
 
 Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. 
 Let's see your piece. 
 
 Pain. 'Tis a good piece. 
 
 Poet. So 'tis : this comes oS' well and excel- 
 lent. 
 
 Pain. Indifferent. 
 
 Poet. Admirable : How this grace 
 
 Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power 
 This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination 
 IMo\ es in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gestur 
 One niigiit inteipiet. 
 
 Pain. It is a ijretty mocking of the life. 
 Here is a touch : Is't good '! 
 
 Poet 111 say of it, 
 
 It tutors nature : artificial strife 
 Lives in these touches, li\elier than life. 
 
 E/iler certain Senators, and pass over. 
 
 Pain. How this lord's follow'd ! 
 
 Poet The senators of Athens ; — Happy men ! 
 
 Pain. Look, more ! [visitors. 
 
 Poet. You see this confluence, tiiis great flood of 
 I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, 
 Whom this beneath world dotli embrace and hug 
 With amplest entertainment: My free drift 
 Halts not particularly, but moves itself 
 In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice 
 Infects one comma in the course I hold ; 
 But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on. 
 Leaving no track beliind. 
 
 Pain. How shall I understand you? 
 
 Poet. I II unbolt to yon. 
 
 You see how all conditions, how all minds 
 (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as 
 Of grave and austere quality) tender down 
 Their services to lord Timon : his large fortune. 
 Upon his good and gi-acious nature hanging. 
 Subdues and properties to his love and tendance 
 All sorts of hearts ; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer 
 To Apemantus, that few things loves better 
 Than to abhor himself: even he drops down 
 The knee before him, and returns in peace 
 Most rich in Timon's nod. 
 
 Pain. I saw them speak together. 
 
 Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill 
 Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : The base o' the moun 
 Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures. 
 That labour on the bosom of this spliere 
 To propagate their states: amongst them all, 
 Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd. 
 One do I personate of lord Timon's frame. 
 Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her 
 Whose present grace to present slaves and servants 
 Translates his rivals. 
 
 Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. 
 
 This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinki. 
 With one man bcckon'd from the rest below 
 
540 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Bowing his head against the steepy mount 
 To climb his happiness, would be well express'd 
 ♦In our condition. 
 
 Pot^t. Nay, sir, bnt hear me on : 
 
 All tliose, which were his fellows bnt of late, 
 (Some better than his value], on the moment 
 Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, 
 Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear. 
 Make sacred even his stirrup, and through hira 
 Drink the free air. 
 
 Pain. Ay, marry, what of these ? 
 
 Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of 
 mood, 
 Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants. 
 Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top. 
 Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, 
 Not one accompanying his declining foot. 
 
 Pain. 'Tis common : 
 A thousand moral paintings I can shew, 
 That shall demonstrate tliese quick blows of fortune 
 More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well. 
 To shew lord 'I'iinon, that mean eyes have seen 
 The foot above the head. 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter TiMOfi, attended; the 
 
 Servant of Ventidius talkuig wit/i him. 
 Tim, Iniprison'd is he, say you ? 
 
 Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord : five talents is his 
 debt ; 
 His means most short, his creditors most strait : 
 Your honourable letter he desires 
 To those have shut him up ; which failing to him, 
 Periods his comfort. 
 
 Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well ; 
 
 I am nut of that feather, to shake olf 
 My friend when he most need me. [ do know him 
 . A gentleman, that well deserves a helj), 
 Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. 
 Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. 
 Tim. Commend me to him : I will send his 
 ransom ; 
 And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me : — 
 'Tis ni)t riiough to help the feeble up, 
 Uiit to support him alter. — Fare you well. 
 
 Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter an old Athenian, 
 
 Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. 
 Tim. Freely, good father. 
 
 Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. 
 Tun. I have so: Whatofhim? [thee. 
 
 Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man before 
 Tim. Attends he here, or no? — Lucilius ! 
 
 Enter LuciLius. 
 
 Lvc. Here, at your lordship's service. 
 
 Old Ath. TWia fellow here, lord Timon, this tiiy 
 creature, 
 Bv night frequents my house. I am a man 
 Tac.t from my first have been iuclin'd to thrift; 
 And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, 
 [ hau one which holds a trencher. 
 
 Ttm. Well; what furtiier ? 
 
 Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin else. 
 On whom I may confer what 1 have got : 
 The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a biide, 
 And 1 have bred her at my dearest cost. 
 In qualities of the best. '1 his man of thine 
 Attempts her love; I pr'ythee, noble lord, 
 Join vvith me to forbid him her resort; 
 Myself have spoke in vain. 
 
 Tim. The man is honest 
 
 Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon : 
 His honesty rewards him in itself, 
 It must not bear my daughter. 
 
 Tim. Does slie love him ? 
 
 Old Ath. She is young, and apt : 
 Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
 What levity's in vouth. 
 
 Tttn. {To Luc'liu<i.) Love you the maid? 
 
 Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. 
 Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be missing, 
 I call the gods to witness, I will choose 
 Mine heir from forth tiie beggars of the world, 
 And dispossess her all. 
 
 Tim. How shall she be endow'd. 
 
 If she be mated with an equal husband? (all 
 
 Old Ath. Three talents, on the present ; in future, 
 Tim. This gentleman of mine hath servd me long; 
 To build his fortune, I will strain a little, 
 For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter : 
 What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, 
 And make him weigh with her. 
 
 Old Ath. Most noble lord. 
 
 Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. 
 
 Tim. My hand to thee ; mine honour on my promise. 
 Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship : Never may 
 That state or fortune fall into my keepiu^^. 
 Which is not ow'd to you ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lucilius and old Athenian. 
 Poet. 'V^ouchsaCe my labour, and long live your 
 
 lordship! 
 Tim. I thank you ; yon •shall hear from me anon ; 
 Go not away. — What ha\e you there, my friend ? ' 
 
 Pain. A (yiece of painting, which 1 do beseech 
 Your lordship to accept. 
 
 Tim. Painting is^welcome. 
 
 The painting is almost the natural man ; 
 For since dishonour tratiics with man's nature. 
 He is but outside : These pencil'd fiffures are 
 E\en such as they give out. I like your woik; 
 And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance 
 Till you hear further from me. 
 
 Pain. The gods preserve you ! 
 
 Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen : Give me your 
 hand ; 
 We must needs dine together— Sir, your jewel 
 Hatii sulTer'd under piaise. 
 Jew. What, iny lord ? dispraise ? 
 
 Tim. A mere satiety of commend:itions. 
 If I should pay you lor't as 'tis extoil'd, 
 It would uncle w me quite. 
 
 Jetv. My. lord, 'tis rated 
 
 As those, which sell, would give: But you well 
 
 know. 
 Things of like value, dilTering in the owners, 
 Are prized by their masters : believ't, dear lord, 
 Y'ou mend tiie jewel by wearing it. 
 Tim. Well mock'd. 
 
 Mer. No, my good lord ; he speaks tlie common 
 tongue. 
 Which ell men speak with him. 
 
 Tim. Look, who comes here. Will you be chid'? 
 
 Enter Apemantcs. 
 
 Jeiv. We will bear with your Irdship. 
 
 Mer. He'll spare none. 
 
 Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Ai>euiantu3 ! 
 
 ^joewi.Till Ibe gentle, stay f rtliy gooil morrow; 
 Wlien th(Mi art Timon's d g, a'nd tiiese knaves honest. 
 
 Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou 
 know'st them not. 
 
 Apem. Are they not Atiieuians? 
 
 Tim. Yrs. 
 
 A/)cm. Then I repent not. 
 
 Jew. You know me, Apemantus. 
 
 Apem. Thou knowest, I do; I call thee by thy 
 name. 
 
 Tin. Thou art proud, Apemantus. 
 
 Aptm. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like 
 Timnn. 
 
 Tim. Whither art going ? 
 
 Apem. To knock out an lionest Athenian's brains. 
 
 Tim. 'Chat's a deed thou'it die lor 
 
 A/ieiii. Rifht, if doiiigni.lhiugbe death by tiie law. 
 
 Tim. H.iw iikest thou lliis picture, Apemantus? 
 
 A/)('m. The best, for tlie innocence. 
 
 T,m. Wrought he not well, that painted it ? 
 
 Apem. He wroimiit better, tiiat made the paintei 
 and yet he's but a filtliy i-iece of work. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 541 
 
 Pain. Von are a dog. 
 
 Ajx'rn. Thy mother's of ray generation ; What's 
 she. it I be a do^ ! 
 
 Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantiis ? 
 
 Apem. No ; I eat not hirds. 
 
 Tim. An thou shoiild'st, ihou'dst anger ladles. 
 
 Apem. O, they eat lords ; so they come by great 
 heilies. 
 
 Tim. 'I'hat's a lascivious apprehension. 
 
 Apem. So thou apprehend'st it : Take it for thy 
 labour. 
 
 Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantns? 
 
 Apem. Not so well as piaiu-deiiliiig, which will 
 DOt ro.st a ni<)n a doit. 
 
 Tim. What dost thon think 'tis worth? 
 
 Apem. Nut worth my thinking. — How now, poet ? 
 
 Poet. How now, philosopher? 
 
 Apem. Tliou liest. 
 
 Poet. A rt not one ? 
 
 Apem. Yes. 
 
 Poet. Then I lie not. 
 
 Apem. Art not a poet ? 
 
 Poet. Yes. 
 
 Apem. Then thon liest: look in thy last work, 
 where thon hast feign'd him a worthy fellow. 
 
 Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so. 
 
 Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee 
 for thy labour: He, that loves to be flattered, is 
 wortliy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that 1 were a lord ! 
 
 'Tim. What would'st do then, Apeniantus? 
 
 Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord 
 with my heart. 
 
 Tim. Wliat, thyself? 
 
 Apem. Ay. 
 
 Tim. Wherefore ? 
 
 Apem. 'I'hat I had no angry wit to be a lord. — 
 Art not thon a merchant ! 
 
 il/er. Ay, Apemantns. 
 
 Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! 
 
 Mer. If traffic do it, the go%s do it 
 
 Apem. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound 
 thee! 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter a Servant. 
 
 Tim. What trumpet's that ? 
 
 Serv. 'Tis Alcibiade.s, and 
 
 Some twenty horse, all of companionsiiip. 
 
 Tim. I'ray entertain them; give them guide to us. 
 [Exeunt some Attendants. 
 You nnist nee'ds dine with me: — (Jo not you hence, 
 Till i have thank'd you ; and, when r!inner's done, 
 Shew nie this piece. — I am joyful o' your sights. 
 
 Enter Alcibiades, with his company. 
 
 Most welcome, sir! {They salute.) 
 
 Apem. So, so ; there ! — 
 
 Aches contract and starve your supple joints ! — 
 'I'hat there should be small love 'raongst these sweet 
 
 kna- cs. 
 And all tliis court'sy ! The strain of man's bred out 
 Into bnboon and monkey. 
 
 Ale. Sir, vou have sav'd rny longing, and I feed 
 Most hungrily on your sight, 
 
 Tim. Right welcome, sir : 
 
 Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time 
 la difl'erent pleasures. Pray you. let us in. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Apemantus. 
 
 Enter two Lords, 
 
 I Lord. What time of day is't, Apemantus? 
 Apem. Time to be honest. 
 
 1 Liird. I'liat time serves still. 
 
 Apem. I'he most accursed thou, that still omit'st it 
 
 2 Liird. Thou ai t going to lor 1 Timon's feast. 
 Apem. Ay ; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat 
 
 fooLs. 
 2 Fjord. Fare thee well fare thee well. 
 Apem. Thou ait a fool, to bid mi' farewell tfvice, 
 '2 Lord. Why, Apemantns ' 
 
 Apem. Shonld'st have kept one to thy.se If, for i 
 mean to give thee none. 
 1 Lord. Hang thyself. 
 
 Apem,. No, I will do nothing at thy idding; make 
 thy requests to thy friend. 
 
 '2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll gpurn 
 
 thee hence. 
 Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of the ass. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall 
 
 we in, 
 And taste lord Timnn's boimly ? he outgoes 
 The very heart of kindness. 
 
 2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, 
 Is but his steward : no meed, but he repays 
 Sevenfold above itself; no gilt to him, 
 
 But breeds the gi^er a return exceeding 
 All use of quittance. 
 
 1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries, 
 That ever govern'd man. 
 
 2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes I Siiall we 
 
 in? 
 1 Lord. I'll keep you company. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Room of State in 
 Timon's House. 
 
 Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet 
 served in ; Flavins and others attending ; then 
 enter TiMON, Alcibiades. Lucius, Lucullus, 
 SEMPRONIUS,o'W(]/ti//ier Athenian Seywtors, with 
 Ventidius and Attendants. Then comes, drop- 
 ping after all, Apemantus, discontentedly. 
 Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't hath pieas'd the 
 gods remend)er 
 My father's age, and call him to long peace. 
 He is gone happy, and has lel't me ricii : 
 Then, as in grafefid \iitne I am bound 
 To your free heart, I do return those (alents, 
 Don'oled, with tiianks, and service, lioni whose help 
 I deriv'd liberty. 
 
 Tim. O, by no means. 
 
 Honest Ventidius : you mistake my love ; 
 I gave it freely ever; and there's none 
 Can truly say, he gives, if he receives : 
 If our betters play at that game, we must not dare 
 To imitate them ; Faults, that are rich, are fair. 
 Ven. A noble .spirit. 
 
 {They all stand ceremoniously looking 
 on Timon.) 
 Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremon.v 
 
 Was but devis'tj at first, to set a glos.< 
 On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, 
 Recanting goodness, so»ry ere 'tis shewn; 
 But where there is true fiiendship, there needs none 
 Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortimes, 
 Than my fortunes to me. {They vit-, 
 
 1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it. 
 Apem. Ho, ho, confess'd it! haog'd it, have joi 
 
 not? 
 Tim. O, Apemantus ? — you are welcome. 
 Apem. No, 
 
 Yon shall not make me welcome : 
 I come to have thee thrust nie out of doors. 
 
 Tim. Fy, thou art a churl ; you have got a huraoii< 
 there 
 Does not become a man ; 'tis much to blame : — 
 They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est. 
 But yond' man's ever angry. 
 Go, let him ha\e a table by himself; 
 For he does neither affect company, 
 Nor is he fit for it, indeed. 
 
 Apem. Let me stay at thine own peiii, limon, 
 I come to observe ; I give thee warni.ig out. 
 
 Tim. I take no heed of thee; thon .irf :in Athe 
 nian; therefire welcome: I uayself would ha,, 
 power : pr'ythee, let my meat make thee sil nt. 
 Apem 1 scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for 
 I sh'iuld 
 Ne'er flatter thee.— O you gods ' what a nun. her 
 Of men eat Timon. and he sees them not ! 
 
542 
 
 I'lMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 neves me, to see so many dip their meat 
 n one man's blood ; and all the madness is. 
 He cheers them up too. 
 
 I wonder, men dare trust themselves with men : 
 ^Methinks, tliey should invite them without knives; 
 Good for their meat, and safer fur their lives. 
 'I'liere's much example lor't; the fellow, that 
 Sils next him now, parts hread with him, and pledges 
 The breath of him in a divided dratif;ht, 
 Is the readiest man to kill him : it has been prov'd. 
 If I 
 
 Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals ; 
 Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous 
 
 notes : 
 Great men should drink with harness on their 
 
 throats. 
 Tim. My lord, in heart; and let the health go 
 
 round. 
 2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my eood lord. 
 Apem. Flow this way ! 
 
 A brave fellow I — he keeps his tides well. Timon, 
 '1 iiose healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill. 
 Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner. 
 Honest water, which ne'er left man i'the mire : 
 This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds. 
 l'"easts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. 
 
 Apemantus's Grace. 
 
 Immortal gods., I crave no pelf; 
 I pray for no man, but 77iyselJ': 
 Grant I may never prove so fond. 
 To trust man on his oath or bond; 
 Or a harlot, for her weeping; 
 Or a dog, that seems a sleeping ; 
 Or a keeper tvith my freedom ; 
 ' Or my friends, if I should need 'em, 
 A men. So fall to't ; 
 Hich men sin, and I eat root. 
 
 {Eats and drinks.) 
 
 Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus ! 
 
 Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field 
 now. 
 
 Alcib. INIy heart is ever at your service, my lord. 
 
 Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, 
 than a dinner of friends. 
 
 Alcib. Su they were bleeding-new, my lord, 
 tiitres no meat like them; I could wish my best 
 friend at such a feast. ' 
 
 Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine 
 enemies then ; that then thou might'st kill 'em, and 
 bid me to 'em. 
 
 1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my 
 loid, that you would once use our hearts, whereby 
 we might express some part of our zeals, we should 
 think oursehes for ever perfect. 
 
 Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods 
 tiiemselves have provided that I shall have much 
 help from you : How had you been my friends else ? 
 vvliy have you that charitable title frnm thousands, 
 did you not chiefly belong to my heart :■ I have told 
 more of you to myself, than you can with modesty 
 speak in you.' own behalf; and thus far 1 confirm 
 you. O, yon oods, think I, what need we have 
 any friends, if we should never have need of them ? 
 they were the most needless creatures living, should 
 we ne'er have use for them ; and would most resem- 
 ble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep 
 their sounds to themselves. Why, I have oiten 
 wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to 
 yon. We are born to do benefits : and what better 
 or properer can we call our own, than the riches 
 of our friends ? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to 
 have so nianj', like brothers, commanding one 
 another's fortunes ! O joy, e'en made away ere it can 
 be born ! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, me- 
 thinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you. 
 
 Apem. Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon. 
 
 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, 
 And. at the instant, like a babe sprung up. 
 
 Apem. Ho, ho ! I laugii to think that bab 
 
 bastard. 
 3 Lord. I promise yon, my lord, you mov'd me 
 
 much, 
 ^jpew. Much! {Tucket sounded.) 
 
 Tim. What means that trump'? — How now / 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Ser, Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies 
 most desirous of admittance. 
 
 Ti/M. Ladies ? What are their wills ? 
 
 Serv. There comes with them a forenmner, my 
 lord, which bears that office, to signify their plea- 
 sures. 
 
 Tim. I pray, let them be admitted. 
 
 Enter Cupid. 
 
 Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon ; — and to all 
 That of his bounties taste ! — The five best senses 
 Acknowledge thee their patron ; and come freely " 
 To gratulate thy plenteous bosom : The ear. 
 Taste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise ; 
 They only now come but to feast tliine eyes. 
 
 Tim. They are welcome all ; let them have kind 
 admittance : 
 Music, make their welcome. [Exit Cupid. 
 
 1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you are' 
 belov'd. 
 
 Music. Re-enter Cupid, loith a masque of Ladies 
 as Amazons, ivith lutes in their hands, dancing 
 and playing. 
 
 Apem. Hey-day, what a sweep of vanity comes 
 this way ! 
 They dance ! they are mad women. 
 Like madness is the glory of this life. 
 As this pomp shews to a little oil, and root. 
 We make ourselves ibols, to disport ourselves ; 
 And spend our flatteries, to drink those men. 
 Upon whose age we void it up again, not 
 
 With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives, that's 
 Depraved, or depraves ? who dies, tiiat bears 
 Not one spurn to their graves of their friends' gift ? 
 I should fear, those, tiiat dance before me now. 
 Would one day stamp upon me : It has been done ; 
 Men shut their doors against a setting sun. 
 
 The Lords rise from table, with much adoring oj 
 Timon; and, to shew their loves, each singles out 
 an Amason, and all dance, men ivith ivomen, a 
 lofty strain or ttvo to the hautboys, and cense. 
 
 Tim. You have done our pleasures much grace, 
 fair ladies. 
 Set a fair fashion on our entertainment. 
 Which was not half so beautiful and kind; 
 Von have added worth unto't, and lively lustre. 
 And entertain'd me with mine own device; 
 I dm to thank you for it. 
 
 1 Lady. My lord, you take us even at the best. 
 
 Apem. 'Faith, fur the worst is filthy ; and would 
 not hold taking, I doubt me. 
 
 Titn. Ladies, there is an idle banquet 
 Attends you : Please you to dispose yourselves. 
 
 All Lad. Most thankfully, my lorn. 
 
 [Exeunt Cupid and Ladies. 
 
 Tim. Flavins, — 
 
 Flav. My lord. 
 
 Tim. The little casket bring me hither. 
 
 Flav. Yes, my lord. — More jewels yet I 
 There is no crossing him in his humour; (Aside.) 
 Else I should tell him.— Well,— i'faitli, I should, 
 When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he could, 
 'Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind ; 
 That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind. 
 
 [Exit, and returns with the casket, 
 
 1 Lord. Where be our men ?_ 
 Scrv. Here, my lord, in readiness. 
 
 2 Lord. Our horses. 
 
 Tim. O my friend.s, I have one word 
 
 To say to you; — Look you, my good lord, I must 
 
Act it. Scene 2. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Eutrea' yon. I,oionr me so much, as lo 
 
 Atlvai' ,e this jfwel ; 
 
 Acct^r.t, anil wear it, kind my lord. 
 
 1 Ijord. I ain so i'ar already iti your gifts, — 
 J .1. So are we all. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 3erv. My lord, there are certain nobles of the 
 senate 
 ' ^ewfy alighted, and come to visit you. 
 
 Titn. I'hey are fairly welcome. 
 
 Ftav. I beseech your honour, 
 
 V'orichsafe me a word ; it does concern you near. 
 
 Tim. Near ? why then another time I'll hear thee : 
 I pr'ythee, let us be provided 
 'J'o shew them entertainment. 
 
 Flav. 1 scarce know how. {Aaide^ 
 
 Enter another Servant. 
 
 2 Serv. May it please your honour, the lord Lucius, 
 Out of his free love, hath presented to you 
 
 Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver. 
 Tim. I shall accept them fairly : let the presents 
 
 Enter a third Servant. 
 
 Be worthily eutertain'd. — How now, what news? 
 
 3 Serv. Please you, my lord, that honourable 
 gentleman, lord Lucullus, entreats your company 
 to-morrow to hunt with him ; and has sent your 
 honour two brace of greyhounds. 
 
 T'im. I'll hunt with liim ; and let them bereceiv'd. 
 Not without fair reward. 
 
 Flav. [Aside.) What will this come to ? 
 
 He commands us to provide, and give great gifts. 
 And all out of an empty coder. — 
 Nor will he know his purse ; or yield me this, 
 To shew him what a begi(ar his heart is, 
 Being of no power to mal^e his wishes good ; 
 His promises fly so beyond his state, 
 'I'hat what he speaks is all in debt, he owes, 
 For every word ; he is so kind, that he now 
 Pays interest for't ; his Ijjnd's put to their books. 
 Well, 'would I were gently put out of office. 
 Before 1 were forc'd out ! 
 Happier is he that has no friend to feed. 
 Than such as do even enemies exceed. 
 I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Tim. You do yourselves 
 
 Much wrong, you bate too mucli of your own me- 
 rits :— 
 Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. 
 
 "2 Lord. With more than common thanks I will 
 receive it. 
 
 3 Lord. O, he is the very soul of bounty ! 
 
 7V;m. And now I remember me, my lord, you gave 
 Uood words the other day of a bay courser 
 [ rode on : it is yours, because you lik'd it! 
 
 2 Lord. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in 
 that. 
 
 Tim. You may take my word, my lord ; I know, 
 no man 
 Can justly praise, but what he does afiect: 
 1 weii^h my friend's aftection with mine own; 
 I'll tell ynu true. I'll call on you. 
 
 All Lords. None so welcome 
 
 Tim. I take all and your several visitations 
 So kind to heart, 'tis not enoiii;h to give; 
 Methinks, 1 could deal kingdoms to my friends, 
 And ne'er be weary. — Alcibiades, 
 Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich, 
 It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living 
 Is 'mongst the dead : and all the lands thou hast 
 Lie in a pttch'd field. 
 
 Alcib. Ay, defiled land, my lord. 
 
 1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound, — 
 
 Ti7n. And so 
 
 Am I to you. 
 
 2 Lord. So infinitely endear'd, — 
 Tim. .\\\ to you. — Lights, more lii'.iits! 
 
 \ Lord. The best of happiness, 
 
 Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord 'limonl 
 
 1 
 
 Tim. Ready for his friends. 
 
 [Exeunt Alcibiadts. Lords, ^'c- 
 
 Apem. VVhiit a coil's here ! 
 
 Serving of becks, and jutting out of bums ! 
 1 doubt whether tiieir legs be worth the sums 
 That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs 
 Methinks, talse hearts should never liave sound Irgs. 
 Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies. 
 
 Tim. Now, Apeuiantus, if thou wert not sullen, 
 I'd be good to thee. ■ 
 
 Apem. No, I'll nothing : for, 
 
 It I should be brib'd too, there would be none left 
 To rail upon thee; and then thou would'st sin the 
 
 faster. 
 Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me, tiiou 
 Wilt give away thyself in paper shortly : 
 What need these feasts, pomps, and vain glories ? 
 
 Tim. Nay, 
 
 All you begin to rail on society once, 
 I am sworn, not to give regard to you. 
 Farewell ; and come with better music. [Exit. 
 
 Apetn. So ; — 
 
 Thou'lt not hear me now, — thou shalt not then, — 
 
 I'll lock 
 Thy heaven from thee. O, that men's ears should be 
 To counsel deaf, but not to flattery ! [Exit. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene I. — The same. A Room in a Senator s 
 House. 
 
 Enter a Senator, ivith papers in his hand. 
 
 Sen. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to 
 Isidore 
 He owes nine thousand ; besides my former sura. 
 Which makes it five and twenty. — Still in motioa 
 Of raging waste ? It cannot hold ; it will not. 
 if 1 vvant gold, steal but a beggar's dog, 
 And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold : 
 If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more 
 Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, 
 Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight. 
 And able horses : No porter at his gate ; 
 But rather one that smiles, and still invites . 
 All that pass by. It cannot hold ; no reason 
 Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho ! 
 Caphis, I say ! 
 
 Enter Caphis. 
 
 Caph. Here, sir; What is your pleasure? 
 
 Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord 
 1 luion ; 
 Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'd 
 With slight denial ; nor then silenc'd, when — ■ 
 Commend me to ijour master — and the cap 
 Plays in the riijht haud thus : — but tell him, sirrah. 
 My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 
 Out of mine own; his days and times are past. 
 And my reliances on his fracted dates 
 Have sinit my credit: I love, and liinoiir liim; 
 Hilt must not break my hai;k, tw lieal Ills linger: 
 Immediate are my needs; and my relief 
 Must not be tiiss'd and tiirn'd to me in words, 
 But find supply iinineiliale. (Jet you gone: 
 Put on a most iniportunate as|iect, 
 A visage of demand ; lor, 1 do fear. 
 When every feather sticks in his own wing, 
 Lord Timon will be left a naked gull. 
 Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone, 
 
 Caph. I go, sir. 
 
 Sen. I go, sir? — take the bonds along with you, 
 And have tlie dates in compt. 
 
 Caph. I will, sir. 
 
 Sen. Go. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Hall in Timon' s home 
 Enter FlaVIUS, with many hills in his hand. 
 Flav. No care, no stop ! so senseless of expense. 
 That he will neither know how to maintain it. 
 Nor cease iiis flow o.'riot: Takes no account 
 How things go from him: nor resumes no care 
 
544 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Flav. O, my good lord ! 
 
 A* many times I brought in my uccounts, 
 Oiwlirit is to continue: Never mind 
 VV'ris to be so nil wise, to be so kind. 
 What shall be done ? He will not hear, till feel . 
 I must be round with him, now he comes from hunt- 
 
 Enter C aphis, and th". Servants of Isidore and 
 Varro. 
 
 Caph. Good even, Varro: What, 
 
 Voti come for money ? 
 
 Var. Serv. Is't not your business too ? 
 
 Caph. It is ; — and yours too, Isidore i 
 
 Isid. Serv. ' It is so. 
 
 Caph. 'Would we were all discharg'd ! 
 
 Var. Serv. , I fear it. 
 
 Caph. Here comes the lord. 
 Enter TiMON, Alcibiades, and Lord.i, §fc. 
 
 Tim. So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again, 
 My Alcibiades.— With me ? What's your will ? 
 
 'Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. 
 
 Tim. Dues V Whence are you ? 
 
 Caph. Of Athens here, my lord. 
 
 l^iiii. Go to my steward. 
 
 Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off 
 To the succession of new days this month : 
 My master i.t awak'd by great occasion. 
 To call npon his own; and humbly prays you. 
 That with your other noble parts you'll suit. 
 In (riving iiim his right. 
 
 Tim. Mine honest fnend, 
 
 I pr'ythee, but repair to me next morning. 
 
 C«M. Nay, good my lord,- 
 
 Tim. Contain thyselt, good triend. 
 
 Var. Serv OneVarro's servant, my good lord.— 
 
 Isid. Serv. F'om Isidore ; 
 
 He humbly prays vour speedy payment,— 
 
 Caph. If you did know, my lord, my masters 
 wants, — [weeks, 
 
 Var. Serv. 'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six 
 And past, — 
 
 Isid. Strv. Your steward puts me off, my lord ; 
 And I am sent expressly to your lordship. 
 
 Tim. Give me breath: — 
 I do beseech vou, good my lords, keep on; 
 
 [Exeunt Alcibiades and Lords. 
 I'll wait upon you instantly.— Come hither, pray 
 y„y ; {To Flavius.) 
 
 How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd 
 With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds. 
 And the detention of long-.since-due debts. 
 Against my honour? 
 
 Fiav. Please you, gentlemen, 
 
 The time is unagreeable to tliis business : 
 Your iinportunacy cease, till after dinner; 
 That I may make his lordship understand 
 Wherefore you are not paid. _ 
 
 7Y,„_ Do so, my Inends : 
 
 See them well entertain'd. t^-r'^ 
 
 pia. I pray, draw near. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Apemantus and a Fool. 
 
 Caph. Stay, slay, here comes the fool with Ape- 
 mantus; let's have some sport with 'em. 
 
 Var. Sit'v. Hang him, he'll abuse us. 
 
 Isid. Serv. A plague upon him, dog ! 
 
 Var. Serv. How dost, fool ? 
 
 A/ietn. Dost dialogue with thy shadow ? 
 
 Var. Serv. I speak nut to thee. 
 
 Apem. No; 'tis to thyself.— Come away. 
 ■' {To the Fool.) 
 
 Isid. Serv. {To Var. Serv.) Tliere's the tool 
 (.aiij'.s on vour back already. 
 
 Apem. 'No, thou standst single, tliou ai t not oii. 
 hiiii yet. 
 
 Caph. Where's the fool now? 
 
 Apem. He last asked the question. — Poor rogues, 
 and usurers' men! bawds between gold and want. 
 
 All Serv. What are we, ApemantiL's'i' 
 
 Apem. Asses, 
 All Serv. Why ? . 
 
 Apetn. That you ask me what you are, and da 
 not know yourseUes. — Speak to 'em, fool. 
 Fool. How do you, gentlemen ? 
 All Serv. Grainercies, good iool : How does ycur 
 
 mistress? 
 Fool. She's e'en setting on water to scald such 
 chicktns as you are. 'Would, we could see you 
 Corinth. 
 
 Apem. Good I gramercy. 
 
 Enter Patje. 
 Fool. Look you. here comes my mistress' j^age. 
 Paije. {To the Fool.) Why, how now, captain? 
 what do you in this wise company ? — How dost 
 thou, Apemantus ? 
 
 Apem. 'Would I had a rod in my mouth, tliat 1 
 might answ er thee profitably. 
 
 Page. Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the super- 
 scription ol' these letters : I know not which is Mhich. 
 Apem. Canst not read ? 
 Paije. No. 
 
 Apem. 'I'liere will liltle learning die then, that 
 day thou art hanged. This is to lord Timon ; this 
 to Alcibiades. Go; thou wast born a bastard and 
 thon'lt die a bawd. 
 
 Page. Thou wast whelped a dog; and thou shall 
 famish, a dog's death. Answer not, I am gone, 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 Apem. Even so thou out-run'st grace. Fool, I 
 will go with you to lord Tiraon's. 
 Fool. Will you leave me there ? 
 Apem. If Timon stay at home. — You three serve 
 three usurers. 
 
 All Serv. Ay ; would they serv'd us ! 
 Apem. So would 1. — As good a trick as ever 
 hangman served thief 
 
 Fool. Are you three usurers' men? 
 All Serv. Ay, fool. 
 
 Fool. I think, no usurer but has a fjol to his ser- 
 vant : My mistress is one, and I am her (ool. 
 When men come to borrow of your maslers, they 
 approach sadly, and go away merry ; but tliey enter 
 my mistress' house merrily, and go away .sadly ; 
 The rea.son of this ? 
 
 Var. Serv. I could render one. 
 Apem. Do it then, that we may account thee a 
 whoremaster, and a knave; which notwithstanding, 
 thou shalt be no less esteemed. 
 
 Var. Serv. What is a whoremaster, fool ? 
 Fool. A fool in good clothes, and something like 
 thee. 'Tis a spirit : sometime, it appears like a 
 lord ; sometime, like a lawyer ; sometime, like a 
 philosopher, with two stones more than his artifi- 
 cial one : He is very often like a knight; and, ge- 
 nerally in all shapes, that man goes up and down in. 
 from iburscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in. 
 Var. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fool. 
 Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man : as mnch 
 foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest. 
 
 Ape7n. That answer might have become Ape- 
 mantus. 
 All Serv. .4.side, aside: here comes lord Timon. 
 
 Pe enter Tlmon and Flavius. 
 Apem. Come with me, fool, come. 
 Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder bro- 
 ther, and woman ; sometime, the philosopher. 
 
 [Exeunt Apemantus and Fool. 
 Flav. 'Prav you, walk near, I'll s|)eak with you 
 anon. [Exeunt Serv. 
 
 Tim. You niake me marvel : Wherefore, ere this 
 time. 
 Had vou not fully laid my state before me; 
 'i'hat'l might so liave rated my expense 
 As 1 had leave of means ? , , . 
 
 piav. You would not hear nio. 
 
 At many leisures I proposd. 
 
 Tim. Goto: 
 
 Perchance, some single vantages you took, 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 545 
 
 When my indisposition put you back ; 
 And Uiat nnaptness made your minister, 
 Thos to excuse yourself. 
 
 Flav. O, my good lord ! 
 
 At many times I brought in my accounts, 
 Laid them before you; you would throw them off. 
 And say, you found Uiem in mine honesty. 
 VVhen, for some trifling present, you have bid me 
 Return so much, I have shook, my head, and 
 
 wept; 
 V ea, 'painst the authority of manners, pray'd you 
 I liold your hand more close : I did endure 
 jNat sfldiim. nor so slight checks; when 1 have 
 IVotnpted you, in the ebb of your estate. 
 And your great flow of debt. My dear-lov'd lord, 
 Though you hear now (too late !) yet now's a time, 
 The greatest of your having lacks a half 
 To pay your present debts. 
 
 Tim. Let all my land be sold. 
 
 Fiav. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeit-ed and gone ; 
 And what remains will hardly stop the mouth 
 Of present dues : the future comes apace ; 
 What shall defend the interitn ? and at length 
 How goes our reckoning ? 
 
 Tim. To Lacedaemon did my land extend. 
 
 Flav. O my good lord, the world is but a word ; 
 Were it all yours to give it in a breath. 
 How quickly were it gone ! 
 
 Tim. You tell me true. 
 
 Flav. If you suspect my husbandry, or falsehood. 
 Call me bewre the exactest auditors, 
 And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, 
 When all our offices have been oppress'd 
 With riotous feeders ; when our vaults have wept 
 With drunken spillh of wine; when every room 
 Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy ; 
 I have retir'd nie to a wayteful cock, 
 And set mine eyes at flow. 
 
 Tim. Pr'ythee, no more. 
 
 Flav. Heavens, have 1 said, the bounty of this lord! 
 How many prodigal bits have slaves, and peasants. 
 This night englutted ! W^ho is not 'I'inion's ? 
 What heart, iiead, sword, force, means, but is lord 
 
 Tiuion's ? 
 Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon ? 
 Ah I wl>en the means are gone, that buy this praise. 
 The breath is gone whereof Uiis praise is made : 
 Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers. 
 These flies are couch'd. 
 
 Tim. Come, sermon me no further ; 
 
 No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; 
 Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. [lack. 
 
 Why dost thou v*'eep '^ Canst thou the conscience 
 To think I shall lack friends ? Secure thy heart; 
 If I would broach the vessels of my love, 
 .^hd try the argument of hearts by borrowing, 
 Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use, 
 As I can bid thee speak. 
 
 Flav. Assurance bless your thoughts ! 
 
 Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine are 
 crovvn'd, 
 That I account them blessings; for by these 
 Shall I try friends: You shall perceive, how you 
 Mistak* my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends. 
 Within there, ho! — Flaminius ! Servilius! 
 
 Enter Flaminius, Servilius, and other Servants. 
 
 Serv. My lord, my lord, — 
 
 Tim. I will despatoii yo« severally. — You, to 
 lord Lucius, — 
 To lord LucuUus vou ; I hi;nted with his 
 Honour to-day ; — Vou to Sempronius ; 
 Coinmend me to their loves ; and, I am proud, say. 
 That my occasions have found time to use them 
 Toward a supply of money : let the request 
 Be fifty talents. 
 
 Flam. As you have said, my lord. 
 
 Fiav. Lord Lucius, and lord LucuUus? humph ! 
 
 i^Aside.) 
 
 Tim. Go you, 8ir,(/o another Serv. )\a the senators. 
 
 g)f whom, even to the state's best health, I have 
 eserv'd this hearing,) bid 'em send o'the iustani 
 A thousand talents to me. 
 
 Flav. I have been bold, 
 
 (For that I know it the most general way,) 
 To them to use your signet, and your name ; 
 But they do shake their heads, and I am here 
 No richer in return. 
 
 Tim. Is't true ? can it be ? 
 
 Flav. They answer, in a joint and corporate ^oice, 
 That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot 
 Do what they would ; are sorry — you are honour- 
 able, — [but 
 But yet they could have wish'd — they know not — 
 Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
 May catui a wrench — would all were well — %•) 
 
 And so, intending other serious matters, 
 After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, 
 With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods. 
 They froze me into silence. 
 
 Tim. You gods, reward them !— 
 
 I pr'yihee, man, look cheerly : These old fellows 
 Have their ingratitude in them hereditary: 
 Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows ; 
 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind ; 
 And nature, as it grows again towards earth. 
 Is fashion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy. — 
 Go to Ventidius.— ( To a Serv.) 'Pr'ythee, [To 
 
 Flavins) be not sad. 
 Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak. 
 No blame belongs to thee : — {lo Serv.) Ventidius 
 
 lately 
 Buried his father; by whose death, he's, stepp'd 
 Into a great estate : when he was poor, 
 Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, 
 I clear'd him with five talents : Greet him from me ; 
 Bid him suppose, some good necessity 
 Touches his friend, which craves to be remeniber'd 
 With those five talents : — that had, — [to Fiav.) give 
 
 it these fellows 
 To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think, 
 That Timon's fortune 'mong his friends can sink. 
 Flav. I would, I could not think it ; That thought 
 
 is bounty's foe ; 
 Being free itself, it thinks all others so. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. A Room in LucuUus' House. 
 
 Flaminius wailing. Enter a Servant to him. 
 
 Serv. I have told my lord of you, he is coming 
 down to you. 
 
 Flam. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Enter Lucullus. 
 
 Sej^v. Here's my lord. 
 
 Lucul. (Aside.) One of Lord Timon's men ? 
 gift, I warrant. VVhy, this hits right; I dreamt ol 
 a silver basin and ewer to-night. — Flaminius, ho- 
 nest Flaminius ; you are very respectively welcome, 
 sir. — Fill me some wine. — [Exit Servant) And how 
 does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gen- 
 tleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and 
 master ? 
 
 Flam. His health is well, sir. 
 
 Lticul. I am right glad that his health is well, 
 sir: And what hast thou there under thy cloak, 
 pretty Flaminius ? 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir ; 
 which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat your 
 honour to supply ; who, having great and instant 
 occasion to use fifty talent.s, hath sent to your lord- 
 ship to furnish hini; nothing doubting your present 
 assistance therein. 
 
 Lucid. La, la, la, la, — nothing doubting, says 
 he? alas, good lord I a noble gentleman 'tis, if he 
 would not keep so good a house. Many a time and 
 often I have dined with him, and told him on't; and 
 come again to supper to him, of purpose to have 
 him spend less : and yet he would embraice u< 
 
 6i 
 
546 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 counsel, take no warning by tny comins^. Every 
 man has his fault, and honesty is his ; I liave told 
 him on"t, but I could never get him from it. 
 
 Re-enter Servant ivith wine. 
 
 Serv. Please your lordshij), here is the wine. 
 
 Lucul. Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. 
 Here's to thee. 
 
 Glam. Y'our lordsliip speaks your pleasure. 
 
 Lucul. I have observed thee always for a lowardly 
 prompt spirit, — give thee thy due, — and one that 
 knows what belongs to reason ; and canst use the 
 time well, if the time use thee well : good fiarts in 
 thee. — Get you gone, sirrah. — [To the Servant, who 
 goes out.) — Draw nearer, honest Flamuiiiis. 'I'liy 
 lord's a bo'mtiful gentleman : but thou art wise ; and 
 thou knowest well enough, although thou comest to 
 me, that this is no time to lend money ; especially 
 upon bare friendship, without sennity. Here's three 
 eolidares for thee ; good boy, wink at me, and say, 
 Uiou saw'st me not. Fare thee well. 
 
 i^/aw., Is't possible, the world shoidd so much 
 differ ; 
 And we alive, that liv'd ? Fly, damned baseness. 
 To him that worships thee. 
 
 [Throiving the money away.) 
 
 Lucul. Ha! now I .see, thou art a fool, and fit lor 
 thy master. [Exit Luculhis. 
 
 Flam. May these add to the number that may 
 scald thee ! 
 Let molten coin be thy damnation, 
 Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! 
 Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, 
 It turns in le.ss than two nights ! O you gods, 
 I feel my master's passion I This slave 
 Unto iiis honour, has my lord's meat in him : 
 Why should it thrive, and turn no nutriment, 
 When he is turn'd to poison ? 
 
 O, may diseases only \vork upon't ! [nature. 
 
 And, when he is sick to death, let not that part of 
 Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
 To expel sickness, but prolong his hour I [Exit. 
 
 Scene H. — The same. A Public Place. 
 Enter Lucius, toith three Strangers. 
 Luc. Who, the lord Timon? he is my very good 
 friend, and an honourable gentleman. 
 
 1 Stran. We know him lor no less, though we 
 are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one 
 thing, my lord, and which I hear from conmion ru- 
 mours; now Lord Tiinon's haiipy hours are done 
 and past, and his estate shrinks from him. 
 
 Luc. Fy, no, do not believe it; he cannot want 
 for money. 
 
 2 Stran. But believe yon this, my lord, that, not 
 Jong ago, one of his men was with the lord Lu- 
 cullus, to borrow so many talents; nay, urged ex- 
 tremely for't, and shewed what necessity belonged 
 to t, and yet was denied. 
 
 Luc. How ? 
 
 "2 Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord. 
 
 Luc. What a strange case was that'? now, before 
 the gods, I am ashamed on't. Denied that ho- 
 nourable man ? there was very little honour shewed 
 iu't. For my own part,' I must needs confess, I 
 have received some small kindnesses from him, as 
 money, plate, jewels, and such like trifles, nothing, 
 comparing to his; yet, had he mistook him, and 
 sent to me, I should ne'er have denied his occasion 
 BO many talents. 
 
 Enter Servilius. 
 Ser. See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; (have 
 sweat to see his honour. — My honoured lord, — 
 
 {To Lucius.) 
 
 Luc. Servilius ! you are kindly met, sir. Fare 
 
 thee well. — Commend me to tliy honourab!e-vir- 
 
 tuons lord, my very exquisite friend. 
 
 Serv. May it pleasure your honour, my lord hath 
 
 sent — 
 Lue. Ha! wliat has he sent? I am so much en- 
 
 deared to that lord ; he's ever sending; How shall 
 I thank him, think'st thou '/ And what has he sent 
 now ? 
 
 Serv. He has only sent his present occasion now, 
 my lord ; requesting your lordship to supply bis 
 instant use with so many talents. 
 
 Luc. 1 know, his lordship is but merry with me; 
 He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 
 
 Serv. But in the mean time wants less, my lord. 
 If his occasion were not virtuous, 
 I should not urge it half so faithfully. 
 
 Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 
 
 Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. 
 
 Luc. VV hat a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish 
 myself against such a good time, when 1 might 
 have shewn myself honourable ! how unluckily it 
 happened, that I should purchase the day before 
 for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour ! — 
 Servilius, now before the gods, 1 am not able to 
 do't ; the more beast, I say : — I was sending to use 
 lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness: 
 but I would not, lor the wealth of Athens, I had 
 done it now. Conmiend me bountifully to his good 
 lordship; and I hoj^e, his honour will conceive the 
 fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind: 
 — And tell him this from me, I count it one of my 
 greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such 
 an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will 
 you befriend me so far, a.s to use mine own words 
 to him ? 
 
 Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 
 
 Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius. 
 
 [Exit Servilius. 
 True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed ; 
 And he, that's once denied, will hardly S|)eed. 
 
 [Exit Luciua. 
 
 1 Stran. Do you observe this, Hostilius ? 
 
 2 Stran. Ay, too well. 
 1 Stran. W'hy this 
 
 Is the world's soul ; and just of the same piece 
 Is every flatterer's spirit. Wlio can call him 
 His friend, that dips in the same dish ? for, in 
 ]\Iy knowing, "Tiuioii has been this lord's father, 
 -And kept his credit with his purse ; 
 Supported his estate ; nay, Timon's money 
 Has paid his men their wages: He ne'er drinks. 
 But Timon's siUer tieads upon his lip: 
 And yet, (O, see the monstrousness of man. 
 When he looks out in an ungrateful shape! 
 He does deny him, in respect of his. 
 What charitable men afford to beggars. 
 
 3 Stran. Religion groans at it. 
 
 I Strati. For mine own part, 
 
 I never tasted Timon in my life, 
 Nor came any of his boimties over me. 
 To mark me for his friend ; yet, I protest. 
 For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, 
 And honourable carriage. 
 Had his necessity made use of me, 
 I would have put n)y wealth into donation. 
 And the best half should have return'd to him, 
 So much 1 love his heart: But, I jierceive, 
 Men must learn now with pity to dispense ; 
 For policy sits above conscience. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene HI. — The same. A Room in Sempronius's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Semi'konius, and a Servant of Timon's. 
 
 Sem. Must he needs trouble me iu't ';" Humph! 
 'Bove all others ? 
 He might have tried lord Lucius, or Lucullas.' 
 And liow Ventidius is wealthy too. 
 Whom he redeem'd from prison: -All these three 
 Owe their estates unto him. 
 
 Serv. O my lord, (for 
 
 They have all been touch'd, and found base metai ; 
 They have all denied him. 
 
 Sem. How ! they have denied hiiu? 
 
 Has Ventidius and Luculhis denied him ' 
 And does he send to me '' Three'' humph !— 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 547 
 
 It sheu s but. little lo\ e or judgment in him. 
 
 Must I be his last rel'iige ? His friends, like phy^ 
 
 Thrive, give him over : Must I take the cure upon 
 He has much disgrac'd me iut ; I am angry at bun, 
 That might have known my place : I see no sense 
 
 for't, 
 But his occasions might have woo'd nie first 
 For, in my conscience, I was tiie first man 
 That e'er received gift from him : 
 And does he think so b^ickwardly of me now,i 
 TImt 111 requite it lust? No: So it may prove 
 An argunipnt of laughter to the rest, 
 And ! amongst the lords be thought a fool. 
 I had r»tlier than the worth of thrice the sura, 
 He had sent (o me first, but for-my mind's sake ; 
 I had such a courage to do him good. But now 
 
 return. 
 And with tht.ir taint reply this answer join ; 
 Who bates mine honour, shall not know my roin. 
 
 \Exit. 
 Serb'. Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly vil- 
 lain. The devil knew not what he did, .when he 
 made m:in politic; he crossed himself by't: and I 
 cannot think, but, in the end, the villanies of man 
 will set lum clear. How fairly this lord strives to 
 appear foul I takes virtuous copies to be wicked ; 
 like those, that, under hot ardent zeal, would set 
 whole realms on fire. Of such a nature is his poli- 
 tic love. 
 
 'i'iiis w.is my lord's besthoi;e; now all are fled. 
 Save the gods only : Nowliis friends are dead, 
 Ooors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards 
 Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd 
 Now to guard sure thi ir master. 
 And tliis is all a liberal co irse allows ; 
 VVlio cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 .Scene IV. — The same. A Hall in Ttmon's House. 
 
 Enltr two Servants of Varr-o, andthe Servant of 
 
 Lucius, })ieciinj'l'iivs, Hortensius, and other 
 
 Servants to Timou's Creditors, ivaiting his 
 
 comiH'j out. 
 
 Var. Serv. VVell met; pood-morrow, 'i'itus and 
 lliirtensiiis. 
 
 Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. 
 
 Hor. Lucius! 
 
 What, do we meet togetiier ? " 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ay, and, 1 think. 
 
 One business does comniund us all ; for mnic 
 Is money. 
 
 Til. So is theirs and ours. 
 
 Enter Philotus 
 
 Luc. Serv. .-^nd, sir, 
 
 Philotus too ! 
 
 Phi. Good-diiy at once 
 
 Luc. Serv. Welcome, good brother, 
 
 ^^ hilt do you think the hour? 
 
 Phi. Labouring for nine. 
 
 Luc. Serv. .So much? 
 
 J'hi. Is not my lord seen yet? 
 
 Luc. Sen\ NcjI yet. 
 
 Phi. I w<.nder on"t ; he was wont to shine at 
 seven. [witii him : 
 
 Luc. Serv. .\\, but the diys are waxed shurtei 
 V ou must consider, that a prodigal course 
 Is lil;e the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable. 
 i fear, 
 
 "I'is deepest winter in lord Tiuion's purse : 
 That is, one may reach deep eno: gh, and vet 
 Find little. 
 
 J^hi. I am of your fear for that. 
 
 Ttt. I'll shrw you liiiw toobs rve a strant.e event. 
 Your lord scikIs now for moii'-y. 
 
 .Hor. Must tr'ie. he does. 
 
 Tit. And he wears iewels now o( Tiuioifs gift. 
 For which 1 wait {■■: hiomi y. 
 fc/jr. It is against my iieait. 
 
 Luc. Serv. "* Mark, how strange it shews 
 
 Tiuion in this should pay more than he i>wes : 
 And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels, 
 And send for money for 'em. 
 
 Hor. 1 am weary of this charge, the gods can 
 witness : 
 I know, my lord hath spent of Tiinon's wealth, 
 And now ingratitude niake.s it worse than stealth. 
 1 Var. Serv. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns • 
 
 What's yours? 
 Luc. Serv. I''i\ e thousand mine. 
 1 Var. Serv. "Pis much deep ; and it should 
 seem by the sum, 
 Yotrr master's co.iliilence was above mine ; 
 Else, surely, his had cquall'd. 
 
 Enter Fl.\minius. 
 
 Tit. One of lord Tiu\on's men. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Flamiuius! sir, a word; 'Pray, is my 
 lord ready to come fbrtli ? 
 
 Flam. No, indeed, he is not. [much. 
 
 Tit. We atteiul his lordship ; 'pray, 'signify so 
 
 Flam. I need not tell him that ; he knows^ you 
 are too diligent. [Exit Fiammms. 
 
 Enter ELAVIL'S, in a cloak, mufjie.d. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ila ! Is not that his steward mullled so? 
 He goes away in a cloud : call him, call him. 
 
 Tit. Do you hear, sir? 
 
 1 Var. Serv. By your leave, sir, — 
 
 Flav. W'hat do you ask of me, my friend? 
 
 Tit. \Ve wait fur certain money liere, sir. 
 
 Flav. Ay, 
 
 If money were as certain as your waiting, 
 'Twere sure enough. Wiiy then pieferr'd you not 
 \ our sums and f)ills, when your false masLers eat 
 Ot my lord's meat ? Then they could smile, and fa.vn 
 Upon his debts, and take down th' interest 
 Into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves but 
 
 wrong, 
 To stir me up; let me pass quietly: 
 Believe't, my lord and I ha\e made an end : 
 1 have no more to reckon, he to spend. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Ay, but this answer will not serve. 
 
 Flav. If 'twill not, 
 
 'Tis not so base as you ; for you serve kna\ es. [Exit. 
 
 1 Var. Serv. How ! what does his cashierd 
 worship mutter? 
 
 2 Var. Serv. No matter what; he's poor, and 
 that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader 
 than he that has no house to put his head in ? such 
 may rail against great buildings. 
 
 Enter Servilius. 
 
 Tit. O, here's Servilius; now we shall know 
 Some answer. 
 
 Ser. If I might beseech you, gentlemen 
 
 To repair some other hour, I should much 
 Derive fioui it: for, take it on my soul, 
 IMy lord leans wond'rously to discontent. 
 His comli>rtabie temper has forsook him ; 
 He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber. 
 
 Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers, ar« 
 not sick : 
 And, if it be s > far beyond his health, 
 Methinks, he shuuld me s.ioner pay his debts. 
 And make a clear way to tiie gods, 
 
 Si-r. Good gods! 
 
 Tit. \S'e rarmot lake this for an answer, sir. 
 
 Fiam. (/^f/7/r<«.) ScrMlius, help ! — my lord ! ray 
 lord I— 
 
 Enter TlMn.v, in a raije; VuKliU'SlXlS following. 
 
 Ton. \\'\vAt. are my doors oppns'd against my 
 passage ? 
 Have I been e\er free, and miist my house 
 Be my retentive enemy, niy gaol ? 
 Tlie iilaci', winch 1 have ft-asied, does it now. 
 I I like all maiikinil, shew nie an iron heart? 
 } Luc. Serv. I'vil in now, Titus. 
 
548 
 
 riMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Tit. My lord, here is my bill. 
 Luc. Serv, Here's mine. 
 Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord. 
 Both Var. Serv. And ours, my lord. 
 Phi. All our bills. [the girdle. 
 
 Tim. Knock me down with 'em ; cleave me to 
 Luc. Serv. Alas! my lord, — 
 Tim. Cut my litart in sums 
 Tit. Mine, fifty talents. 
 , Tim. Tell out my blood. 
 
 Lite. Serv. Five thousand drops pay hat. 
 Tim. Fixe thousiind drops pays that.— 
 Vhat \<inrs? — and yonrs? 
 
 1 Var. Serv. iMylord, — 
 
 2 Var. Serv. My lord,— 
 
 Tim. 'I'ear me, take me, and ihe gods fall on 
 
 yon ! [Exit. 
 
 Hor. 'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw 
 
 Uieir caps at their money ; these debts may well be 
 
 called desperate ones ; lor a madman owes 'em. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Timon and Flavius. 
 
 Tim. They have e'en put my breath from me, the 
 sla\ es : 
 Creditors ! — devils. 
 
 Flav. My dear lord, — 
 
 Tim. What if it should be so ? 
 
 Flav. My lord,— 
 
 Tim. I'll have it so: — My steward I 
 ( Flav. Here, my lord. 
 
 Tim. 8o fitly ? Go, bid all my friends again, 
 Lucius, Lucullns, and Sempronius; all : 
 I'll once more feast the rascals. 
 
 Flav, O njy lord, 
 
 Vou only speak from your distracted soul ; 
 There is not so much left, to furnish out 
 A moderate table. 
 
 Tim. Be't not in thy care ; go. 
 
 I charge thee ; invite them all : let in the tide 
 Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. The Senate-House. 
 
 The Senate sitting. Enter Alcjbiades, attended. 
 
 1 Sen. iMy lord, you have my voice to't ; the fault's 
 Bloody ; 'tis necessary he should die : 
 
 Nothihfj emboldens sin so much as mercy. 
 
 2 Sen. Most true ; the law shall bruise him. 
 Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to the 
 
 senate ! 
 
 1 Sen. Now, captain ? 
 
 Alcib. I am an humble suitor to your virtues ; 
 For pity is the virtue of the law. 
 And none but tyrants use it cruelly. 
 It pleases time, and ibrtiine, to lie heavy 
 Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood, 
 Hath sfepp'd intci the law, wliich is past depth 
 To those tliat, without heed, du plunge into it. 
 He is a man, setting his fate aside, 
 (>f comely virtues : 
 
 Nor did he soil the fart with cowardice; 
 (An honour in him, which buys out his fault),' 
 but, with a noble fury, and tiiir spirit, 
 Seeing lii.s reputation touch'd to death. 
 He <lid oppose his foe : 
 And with s;ich sober and unnoted passion 
 He Hid l'eha\e his anger, ere 'twas spent. 
 As if he had but prov'd an argument. 
 
 I Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox. 
 Striving to make ati ugly deed look fair: 
 Your words Irttve took such pains, as if they labour'd 
 To brim; manslangliter into form, set quarrelling 
 Upon tlie head of valour; which, indeed, 
 Is \nliiiir uiisbeijot, and came into the world 
 Wht-n seots and fiitions were newly born: 
 He'stnily Mihf.nl, thiit chu wis.-iy sulier 
 The worst that man can breatlie ; and make his 
 wrongs 
 
 His outsides ; wear them like his raiment, carft- 
 
 lessly ; 
 And ne'er prefer his injuries to hrs heart. 
 To bring it into d;inger. 
 If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, 
 What folly 'tis, to hazard life for ill ? 
 Alcib. My lord,— 
 
 1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look clear ; 
 To revenge is no valour, but to bear. 
 
 Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon mtj 
 If I speak like a captain. — 
 Why do fond men expose themselves to battle. 
 And not endure all tlireat'nings ? slei-p upon it, 
 And let the foes quietly cut tneir throats i 
 
 Without repugnancy'' but if there be 
 Such valour in the bearing, what make we 
 ."Ybroad ? why then, women are more valiant, 
 'I'hat stay at home, if bearing carry it ; 
 And the ass, more captain than tlie lion ; the fe'oDj 
 Lnaden with irons, wiser than the judge, 
 If wisdom be in surt'ering. O my lords. 
 As you are great, be pitifully good: 
 Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? 
 To kill. I grant, is sin's extremest gust ; 
 But. in defence, by mercy, 'tis most jitst. 
 'i'o be in anger, is impiety ; 
 But who is man, that is not angry ? 
 Weigh but the crime with this. 
 
 2 Sen, You breathe in vain. 
 
 Alcib, In vain? his service done 
 
 At Ijacedwmon, and Byzantium, 
 Were a siithcient briber for his life. 
 
 1 Sen. Wliat's that? [vice 
 Alcib. Why, I say, my lords, h'as djJEe fair 8i;r- 
 
 And slain in hi;ht many of your enemies : 
 
 How lull ol valour did he bear himself 
 
 In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds? 
 
 2 Sen. He has made too mucli plenty witli "em, he 
 Is a sworn rioter: h'as a sin tliat often 
 
 Drowns him. ai:d takes his valour prisoner : 
 If there were no foes, that were enough alone 
 To overcome him : in that beastly lury 
 He has been known to comnnt outrages, 
 And cherisli factions: 'lis inferr'd to us. 
 His days are foul, and his drink dangerous. 
 
 1 Sen. He dies. 
 
 Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died in war 
 My lords, if not for any parts in him, 
 (Thoui^h his right arm might purchase his own time. 
 And be in debt to mme), yet, more to ntove you. 
 Take my deserts to his, and join them both: 
 And, for I know, your reverend ai^es love 
 Security, I'il pawn my victories, all 
 My honour to you, upon his good returns. 
 If by this crime he owes the law his life, 
 Why, let the war receiv't in valiant gore; 
 For law is strict, anfl war is nothing more. 
 
 1 Sen. We are for law, he dies ; urge it no more. 
 On height of our displeasure: Friend, or brother, 
 Ue forfeits his own blood, tliat spills another. 
 
 Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, 
 I do beseech vou, know me. 
 
 2 Sen. HowV 
 
 Alcib. Call me to your remembrances. 
 
 3 Sen. What? 
 Alcib, I cannot think, but your age has forgot me 
 
 It coidd not else be, I should prove so base, 
 'i\) sue, and be denied such common grace : 
 My wounds ache at you. 
 
 I Sen. Do you dare our anger ? 
 T'is in few words, but spacious in effect 
 We banish thee for ever. 
 
 Alcib. Banish me? 
 
 Banish your dotage ; banish usury, 
 That makes the senate ugly. 
 
 1 Sen. If, alter two day.s' shine, Athens contain 
 thee. 
 Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell 
 
 our spirit. 
 He shall be executed presently. [Exeunt Senatorn, 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 TTMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 549 
 
 Alcib. Now the g-ods keep you o!d enough; Ihat 
 you [iiay live 
 Only in bone, that none may look on you ! 
 I atn worse tl:an iriad : J have kept back tlieir foes, 
 While they have fold their money, and let out 
 Their coin iijion large interest; I myself 
 Rich only in large hurts; — All those, for this? 
 1.1 this the balsam, that the usuring senate 
 Pours into captains' wounds i ha ! banishment? 
 It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish"d ; 
 It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury. 
 That \ may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up 
 ;My discontented troops, and lay for heaits. 
 Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds, 
 Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Scene VI. — A magnificent Room in Timon's 
 House. 
 Music. Tables set out : Servants attending. 
 Enter divers Lords, at several doors. 
 Lord. The good time of day to yon, sir. 
 2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think, this 
 Jionoiirable lord did but try us this other day. 
 
 1 Lord, tjpon that were my thoughts tiring, when 
 we encountered : 1 hope, it is not so low with him, 
 as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends, 
 
 2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion of 
 bis new feasting. 
 
 1 Lord. I should think so: He hath sent me an 
 earnest inviting, wiiich many my near occasions did 
 urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond 
 them, and I must needs appear. 
 
 2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my im- 
 {Jortnnate business, but he would not hear my ex- 
 cuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of rae, 
 that my piovision was out. 
 
 1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I under- 
 stand .'low all things go. 
 
 2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he 
 have borrowed of you ? 
 
 1 Lord. A thousand pieces, 
 
 2 Lord A thousand pieces ! 
 
 1 Lord. What of you? 
 
 2 Lord, He sent to me, sir, — Here he comes. 
 
 Enter TiMON, and Attendants. 
 Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both : — And 
 "low fire you ? 
 
 1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of your 
 Jordsliip. 
 
 2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer more 
 willing, than we your lordship. 
 
 Tim. {Aside.) Nor more willingly leaves winter; 
 such summer-birds are men. — Gentlemen, our din- 
 ner will not recompense this long stny : feast your 
 pars with the music awhile ; if they will fare so 
 h.irshly on the trumpet's sound : we shall to"t pre- 
 sently. 
 
 1 Lord. I hope, it remains not unkindly with 
 your lordship, that I returned you an empty mes- 
 sentrer. 
 
 Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 
 
 2 Loi d. My coble lord, — 
 
 Tim. Ah, my good friend ! what cheer' 
 
 ( Tli£ banquet brought in.) 
 
 2 Lord. My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick 
 of shame, that, when your lordship this ether day 
 sent to me, I was so uniiirtunate a beggar. 
 
 Tim, Think not on't, sir. 
 
 2 Lord. If you had .sent but two hours before,; — 
 
 Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. 
 — Come, bring in all together. 
 
 2 Lord. All co\ered dishes! 
 
 i Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 
 
 3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money and the season 
 can yield it. 
 
 I Lord. How do you ? What's the news? 
 
 3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished: Hear you of it? 
 
 1 & '2 Lord. Alcibiades banished ! 
 
 3 Lord. ''I'is so be sure of it. 
 
 1 Lord. How ? how ? 
 
 2 Lord. I pray you, npon what? 
 
 Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near/ 
 
 3 Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a Dobla 
 feast toward. 
 
 2 Lord. This is the old man still. 
 
 3 Lord. Will't hold? will't hold ? 
 
 2 Lord. It does : but time will — and so- — 
 
 ^ Lord. I do conceive. 
 
 Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spnr as he 
 would to the lip of his mistress: your diet shall be 
 in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to 
 let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first 
 place : Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. 
 
 You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with 
 thankfulness. For your otvn gifts, make yourselves 
 praised: but reserve still to give, lest your deities 
 be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one 
 need not lend to another : for, were your godheads 
 to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. 
 Make the meat be beloved, more than the man that 
 gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a 
 score of villains : If there sit twelve women at 
 the table, let a dozen of them be — as they are. — 
 The rest of your fees, O gods, — the senators of 
 Athens, together ivilh the common lag of people, — 
 what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable 
 for destruction. For these my present friends, — 
 as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, 
 and to nothing they are welcome. 
 Uncover, dogs, and lap. 
 {The dishes uncovered, are full of warm water.) 
 
 Some speak. What does his lordship mean ? 
 
 Some other, I know not. 
 
 Tim. May you a better feast never behold, 
 You knot of moutb-friends ! smoke, and luke-warm 
 
 water 
 Is your perfection. This is Timon's last; 
 Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries. 
 Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces 
 
 {Throwing water in their faces.) 
 Your reeking villany. Live loath'd, and long, 
 Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, 
 Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, 
 You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, 
 Capand-knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! 
 Of man, and bea.st, the iptinite malady 
 Crust you quite o'er! — What, dost thou go? 
 Soft, take thy physic first, — thou too, — and thou :— 
 [Throws the dishes at them, and drives them ozit. 
 Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. — 
 What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast, 
 Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest, 
 Burii, house; sink, Athens! henceforth hated be 
 Of Tiinon, man, and all humanity. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter the Lords, with other Lords and 
 Senators. 
 
 1 Lord. How now, my lords? [fury? 
 
 2 Lord. Know you the quality of lord Timon's 
 
 3 Lord. Pish! did you see my cap? 
 
 4 Lord. I have lost my gown. 
 
 "iLord. He's but a mad lord, and nought but 
 humour sways him. He gave me a jewel the other 
 day, and now he has beat it out of my hat: — Did 
 you see my jewel i 
 
 4 Lord. Did you see my cap ? 
 
 2 Lord. Here 'tis. 
 
 4 Lord. Here lies my gown. 
 
 1 Lord. Let's make no stay. 
 
 2 Lord. Lord Timon's mad. 
 
 3 Lord. I feeft upon my bones. 
 
 4 Lord. One day he gives us diamonds, next d^y 
 
 stones. \Exeun't. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 ScENK I. — Without the Walls of Athens. 
 
 Enter Timon. 
 
 Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall. 
 
550 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 That rirdlest in those wolves ! Dive in the earth, 
 And ftnce not Alliens I Matrons, turn incontinent ! 
 Obedience fail in children ! slaves, and fools. 
 Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, 
 And minister in their steads ! to general filths 
 Convert o'the instant, green virginity ! 
 Do't in your parents' eyes ! bankrupts hold fast ; 
 Kather than render back, out with vour knives, 
 And cut your trusters' throats ! Lound servants, 
 
 steal ! 
 Large-handed robbers your grave masters are. 
 And pill by law ! maid, to thy master's bed ; 
 Thy mistress is o'the brothel! son of sixteen. 
 Pluck the lin'd cr'itch from the old limping sire, 
 With it beat out his brains ! piety, and fear. 
 Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
 Domestic awe, nigiit-rest, and neighbourhood, 
 Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
 Degrees, observances, custouis, and laws,' 
 Decline to your confounding contraries. 
 And yet confusion live ! — Plagues, incident to men. 
 Your potent and infectious fevers heap 
 On Athens, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica. 
 Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt 
 As lamely as their manners ! lust and liberty 
 Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth ; 
 That 'gainst the stream tif virtue they may strive. 
 And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains, 
 Sow all the Athenian bosoms : and their crop 
 Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath ; 
 That their society, as their friendship, may 
 Be merely poison ! Nothing I'll bear from tliee. 
 But nakedness, thou detestable town ! 
 Take thou that too, with multiplying banns ! 
 Tinion will to the woods ; where he shall find 
 The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. 
 The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all,) 
 The Athenians both within and out that wall ! 
 And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow 
 To the whole race of mankind, high, and low ! 
 Amen. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Athens. A Room in Timon's House, 
 Enter Flavius, with two or three Servants. 
 1 Serv. Hear you, master steward, where's our 
 master ? 
 Are we undone ? cast off? nothing remaining ? 
 Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should f say to 
 you ? 
 Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, 
 I am as poor as you. 
 
 1 Serv. Such a house broke ! 
 So noble a master fallen ! All gone ! and not 
 One friend, to take his fortune by the jrm. 
 And go along with him ! 
 
 2 Serv. As we do turn our backs 
 From our companion, thrown into his grave ; 
 
 So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
 Slink ail away ; leave their false vows with him. 
 Like empty purses pick'd : and his poor self, 
 A dedicated beggar to the air. 
 
 With his disease of allshunn'd poverty, 
 Walks, like contempt, alone. — More of o> 
 
 fellc 
 
 Enter other Servants. 
 
 Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd house. 
 
 3 iSerw. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery. 
 That see I by our faces; we are fellows still. 
 Serving alike in sorrow : Leak'd is our bark ; 
 And we, uoor mates, stand on the dying deck. 
 Hearing the surges threat: we must all part 
 Into this sea of air. 
 
 Flav. Good fellows all. 
 
 The latest of my wealtii I'll share aniongst you. 
 Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake, 
 Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say, 
 As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortimes. 
 We havt saen better days. Let each take some ; 
 
 (Givinij them money.) 
 Nay, put aot all your hands. Not one word more 
 
 Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants, 
 O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us ! 
 Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt. 
 Since riches point to misery and contempt ? 
 Who'd be so mock'd witji glory ? or to live 
 But in a dream of friendship :" 
 To have his pomp, and all what state compounds. 
 But only painted, like his varnish'd friends ? 
 Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart; 
 Undone by goodness ! Strange, unusual blood, 
 When man's worst sin is, he does too much good! 
 Who then dares to be half so kind again ? 
 For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. 
 31y dearest lord, — bless'd, to be most occurs'dy 
 Rich, only to be wretched ; — thy great fortunes 
 Are made thy chief afilictions. Alas, kind lord! 
 He's flung in rage from this ungrateful seat 
 Of monstrous friends ; nor has he vvitii him to 
 Supply his lile, or that which can command it. 
 I'll i'ollow, and inquire him out: 
 I'll serve his mind with my best will; 
 Whilst I have gold, 111 be his steward still. [Exit 
 
 ScEHEllL— The Woods. 
 Enter Timon. 
 
 Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the 
 
 earth 
 Rotten huniidity ; below thy sister's orb 
 Infect the air ! Twiun'd brothers of one womb, — 
 Whose procreation, residence, and birth, (tunes ; 
 Scarce is dividant, — touch them with several for 
 The greater scorns the lesser: Not nature. 
 To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune. 
 Hut by contempt of nature. 
 Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord ; 
 'I'he senator shall bear contempt hereditary, 
 'i"he beggar native honour. 
 
 it is the pasture lards the brother's sides, [dares 
 The want that niakes him lean. Who dares, wh© 
 In purity of manhood stand upright. 
 And say, This man's ajlatterer! if one be» 
 So are tliey all ; for every grize of fortune 
 Is siiiooth'd by that below : the learned pats 
 Ducks to the golden fool : All is oblique ; 
 There's nothing level in our cursed natures. 
 But direct \illany. Therefore, be abhorr'd 
 All feasts, societies, and throngs of men ! 
 His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains; 
 Destruction fang mankind ! — Earth, yield me roots I 
 
 (Digging.) 
 Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
 With thy most operant poison ! What is here ?. 
 Gold'? yellow, glitleriiis, precious gold ^. No, gods, 
 I am no idle votarist. lloots, you clear heavens ! 
 Thus much of tiiis, will niak* black, white ; foul, 
 
 fair ; [valiant. 
 
 Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward. 
 Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? 
 
 Why this 
 Will lug your priests and servants from your sides ; 
 Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads; 
 This yellow slave 
 
 Will knit and break religions ; bless the accura'd ; 
 Make the hoar leprosy ador'd ; place thieves. 
 And give them title, knee, and approbation, 
 VVith senators on the bench : this is jt. 
 That makes the wappen'd widow wed again ; 
 She. wlioin tiie spital house, and ulcerous sores 
 Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spicea 
 To the April day again. Come, diunnetl earth. 
 Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds 
 Among the rout of nations. I will make thee 
 Do thy right nature.— (3/a>v.7i afar o/:)— Ha ! ■ 
 
 drum ? — Thou'rt quick, 
 But yet I'll bury thee : Thou'lt go, strong thief. 
 When gouty keepers of thee cannot Ftaiid : — 
 Nay, stay thou out for earnest 
 
 {Keeping some t/olcl.) 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 551 
 
 Enter AlciblaDes, wi7A drum andjife, in warlike 
 manner : Phkynia and TiMANDRA. 
 
 Alcib. . What art thon (here ? 
 
 Spt-ak. [heart, 
 
 Tim. A beast, as thou art. Tlie canker gnaw thy 
 For shewiiifi: me again the eyes of man I 
 
 Alcib. What is thy name ? Is man so hateful to 
 That art tliyself a man ? (thee, 
 
 Tim. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind. 
 For thy |<art, I do wish tiioa wert a dog, 
 Tfajt I might love thee something. 
 
 Alcib. I know thee well ; 
 
 But ill thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. 
 
 Tim. I know thee too; and more, than tliat I 
 know ihee, 
 f not desire to know. Follow tljy drum ; 
 Wii\\ man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules : 
 Religious canons, civil laws are cruel ; 
 Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine 
 Hath in lier more destruction than thy sword. 
 For ail iier cherubin look. 
 
 Pliry, Thy lips rot off! 
 
 Tim. I will not kiss thee; then tlie rot returns 
 To tiiine own lips again. 
 
 Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this change? 
 
 Tivi. As the moon does, by wanting liglit to give : 
 But then renew I could not, like the moon ; 
 There were no suns to borrow of. 
 
 Alcib. Noble Timon, 
 
 What friendship may I do thee ? 
 
 Tim. None, but to 
 
 Maintain my opinion. 
 
 Alcib. What is it, Timon? 
 
 Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform none : If 
 Thon wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for 
 Thou art a man I if thou dost perform, confound thee. 
 For thou'rt a man! 
 
 Alcib. I ha\ e heard in some sort of thy miseries. 
 
 Tim, Thou 8aw"st them, when I had prosperity. 
 
 Alcib. I see them now ; then was a blessed time. 
 
 Tim. As thine is now, held witii a brace of harlots. 
 
 Tim. Is this the Athenian miuion, whom the 
 world 
 Foic'd .so regardfully ? 
 
 Tim. ^ Art thou Timandra ? 
 
 Timan. Yes. 
 
 Tim. I3e whore still ! they love thee not, that 
 use thee ; 
 Give Uiem diseases, leaving with thee their lust. 
 Make use of thy salt hours : season the slaves 
 For tubs, and baths ; bring down rose-cheeked youth 
 To the tub-fast, and the diet. 
 
 Timan. Hang thee, monster ! 
 
 Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra ; for his wits 
 Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. — 
 I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, 
 I'hc want whereof doth daily make revolt 
 In my penurious baud ; I have heard, and griev'd. 
 How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth. 
 Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states. 
 But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them, — 
 
 Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone. 
 
 Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Ti- 
 mon. _ _ [trouble ? 
 
 Tim. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost 
 I had ratlier be alone. 
 
 Alcib. Why, fare thee well : 
 
 Here's some gold for thee. 
 
 Tim. Keep't, I cannot eat it. 
 
 Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a 
 heap, — 
 
 Tim. Warr'st thon 'gainst Athens i* 
 
 Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. 
 
 Tim. The gods conf&ind them all i'thy conquest ; 
 and 
 Thee after, when thou haut conquer'd ! 
 
 Alcib. Wiry me, Timon ? 
 
 Tim. That, 
 By killing villains, thou wast bom to conquer 
 
 My country. 
 
 Put up thy gold ; Go on, — here's gold, — go on ; 
 
 Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
 
 VVill o'er some highvic'd city hang his poison 
 
 In the sick air : Let not thy sword skip one : 
 
 Pity not honour'd age for his white beard ; 
 
 He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matrou 
 
 It is her habit only that is honest, 
 
 HerselTs a bawd : Let not the virgin's oheek 
 
 Make soft thy trenchantsword ; for those milk-paps, 
 
 That tiirougii the window-bars bore at men's eyes. 
 
 Are not witliin the leaf of pity writ, [babe 
 
 Set them down horrible traitors : Spare not thi 
 
 Whose dmipled smiles from fools exhaust their 
 
 mercy; 
 'I'hink it a bastard, whom the oracle 
 Halh doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut. 
 And minre it sans remorse: Swear against objects; 
 Put armour on thine ears, and on tiiiue eyes; 
 Whose ])roofs, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor 
 
 babes. 
 Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding. 
 Shall pierce a jot. 'J'here's gold to pay thy soldiers: 
 Make large confusion ; and, tiiy fury spent, 
 Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 
 
 Alcib. l^Iast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thot 
 
 giv'st me, 
 
 Not all thy counsel. [upon thee! 
 
 Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse 
 
 Phr. §f Timan. Give us some gold, good Timon: 
 
 Hast liiou more ? 
 Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, 
 And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, 
 Your aprons mountant: You are not oathable, — 
 Although, I know, you'll swear, terribly swear. 
 Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues. 
 The immortal gdds that hear you, — spare your oaths, 
 I'll trust to your conditions : Be whores still ; 
 And he whose pious breatii seeks to convert you, 
 Be strong in whore, alhire him, burn him up; 
 Let your close fiie predominate his smoke. 
 And be no turncoats : Vet may your pains, six 
 
 months. 
 Be quite contrary : And thatch your poor thin roofs 
 With burdens o( the dead ; — some that wer&liang'd, 
 No matter : — wear them, betray with them : whore 
 
 still ; 
 Paint, till a horse may mire upon your face : 
 A pox of wrinkles ! 
 
 Phr.^ Timan. Well, more gold; -What then?— 
 Believ't, that we'll do any thing for gold. 
 
 Tim. Consumption sow x 
 
 In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, 
 And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice. 
 That he may never more false title plead. 
 Nor sound his quillets shrilly : hoar the flamen, 
 That scolds against the quality of flesh. 
 And not believes himself: down with the nose, 
 Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away 
 Of him, that his particular to foresee, 
 Smells from the general weal : make curl'd-pate 
 
 ruffians bald ; 
 And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war 
 Derive some pain from you: Plague all; 
 That your acti\ity may defeat and quell 
 The source of ail erection. — There's more gold : — 
 Do you damn others, and let this damn you, 
 Ann ditcties grave you all! 
 
 PAr. §" 7 iman. jAlore coubssI with more money, 
 
 bounteous Timon. 
 Tim. More whore, more mischief first ; I have 
 
 given you earnest 
 Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Fare- 
 well, Timon ; 
 If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. 
 
 Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. 
 
 Alcib. I never did thee harm. 
 
 Ttm. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. 
 
 Alcib. Call'st thou that harm! 
 
 Tim. Men daily find it such. Get tliee away. 
 
552 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And take thy beagles with thee 
 
 Alcib. 
 Strike. 
 
 [Drum beats. 
 
 We but offend him. — 
 
 Exeunt Alcihiades, Phrynia, 
 
 and Timandra. 
 Tim, That nature, being sick of man's unkind- 
 ness, 
 Shonld yet be hungry ! — Common mother, then, 
 
 [Di'jfjing.) 
 Whose womb immeasurable, and infinite breast, 
 Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, 
 Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, 
 Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, 
 The gilded newt, nnd eyeless venom'd worm, 
 With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven, 
 Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire duth shine ; 
 Yield him, wno all thy human sons doth hate. 
 From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root ! 
 Knsear thy fertile and conceptious womb, 
 Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 
 Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
 Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
 Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
 Never presented ! — O, a root, — Dear thanks ! 
 Drv up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas: 
 Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts. 
 And morsels nnctuoiis, greases his pure mind. 
 That from it all consideration slips ! 
 
 Enter Apemantus. 
 
 More man ? Plague ! plague ! 
 
 Apem. I was directed hither: men report, 
 Thou dos«t affect my manners, and dost use them, 
 
 Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keep a 
 
 Whom I would imitate: Consumption catch thee! 
 
 Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected; 
 A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung 
 From change of fortune. Why this spade? this 
 
 place? 
 This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? 
 Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; 
 Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot 
 That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, 
 By putting on the cunning of a carper. 
 Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
 By that which has undone thee : hinge thy knee. 
 And let his very breath whom thou'lt observe. 
 Blow oft' thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain, 
 And call it excellent: Thou wast told thus; 
 Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel- 
 come, 
 To knaves, and all approachers. 'Tis most just. 
 That thou turn rascal : had'st thou wealth again, 
 Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. 
 
 Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. 
 
 Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, beiug like 
 thyself; 
 A madman so long, now a fool : What, think'st 
 That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, 
 Will put thy shirt on warm ? Will these moss'd 
 
 trees. 
 That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy lieels. 
 And skip, when thou point'st out? Will the cold 
 
 brook, 
 Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
 Tocure thyo'er-night's surfeit? call the creatures, — 
 Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
 Of wreakful heaven ; whose bare unhoused trunks. 
 To the conflicting elements expos'd. 
 Answer mere nature, — bid them flatter thee; 
 O ! thou shalt find— 
 
 Tim. A fool of thee : Depart. 
 
 Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did. 
 
 Tim. I hate thee worse. 
 
 Apem. Why ? 
 
 Tim. ^ Thou flatter'st misery. 
 
 Apem. I flatter not; but say, thou art a caitiff. 
 
 1 im. Why dost thou seek nvc out ? 
 
 Apem. To vex thee. 
 
 Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. 
 Dost please thyself in't? 
 
 Apem. Ay. 
 
 Tim. What! a knave too" 
 
 Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on 
 To castigate thy pride, 'twere well : but thou 
 Dost it enforcedly ; thoud'st courtier be again, 
 Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery 
 Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'il before : 
 The one is filling still, never complete; 
 The other, at high wish : Best state, contentless. 
 Hath a distracted and most wretched being. 
 Worse than the worst, content. 
 Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable. 
 
 Tim, Not by his breath, that is more miserable 
 Thou a:-t a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm 
 With favour never clasp'd ; but bred a dog 
 Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded 
 'J'he sweet degrees that this brief world aflbrds 
 To such as may the passive drugs of it 
 Freely command, thou would'sthave plung'd thyself 
 In general riot; melted down thy youth 
 In dift'erent beds of lust; and never learn'd 
 The icy precepts of respect, but foUow'd 
 'J'he sugar'd game before thee. But myself, 
 Who had the world as my confectionary; 
 The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of mea 
 At duty, more than I could frame employment; 
 That numberless npon me stuck, as leaves 
 Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
 Fell from tiieir boughs, and left me open, bare 
 For every storm that blows ; — I, to bear this. 
 That never knew but better, is some burden : 
 Thy nature did commence in sutterance, time 
 Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou hate 
 
 men ? 
 They never flatter'd thee : What hast thou given . 
 If thou wilt curse, — thy father, that poor rag. 
 Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff 
 To some she beggar, and compounded thee 
 Poor rogue hereditary. Hence ! be gone ' 
 If thou hadst not been born the worst of men. 
 Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. 
 
 ■A])em. Art thou proud yet ? 
 
 Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. 
 
 Apem. I, that I was 
 Ni>i)rodigal. 
 
 Tim, I, that I am one now ; 
 
 Were all the wealth I have sliut up in thee, 
 I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. — 
 That the whole life of Athens were in this! 
 Thus would I eat it. [Eatinrj a root.) 
 
 Apem. Here: I M'ill mend thy feast. 
 
 {Offering him something^) 
 
 Tim. First mend my company, take away thyself. 
 
 Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack oi 
 tiiine. 
 
 Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it i.s but botch'd ; 
 If not, I would it were. 
 
 Apem. What would'st thou have to Athens? 
 
 Tim. Thee tliither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt. 
 Tell tiiem tiiere I have gold ; look, so I have. 
 
 Apem, Here is no use for gold. 
 
 Tim. The best, and truest : 
 
 For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. 
 
 Apem. Where ly'st o'niglits, 'I'imon? 
 
 1 im. Under that's above mei. 
 
 Where feed'st thou o'days, Ai emantus? 
 
 Apem. Where my stuuiach finds meat; or, rather 
 where I eat it. 
 
 Tim. 'Would poison were obedient, and knew ra 
 mind ! 
 
 Apem. Where would'st tJiou send it :* 
 
 Tim, 'I'o sauce thy dishes. 
 
 Apem. 'i'he middle of humanity tJiou never knew 
 est, but tiie extremity of both ends: When thon 
 wast in tiiy gilt, and thy perfume, they mniked tiiee 
 for too much curiosity ; in thy rags Di-ju kuowest 
 none, but art despised for the cootrarv. There's a 
 medlar for tliee, eat it 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 553 
 
 Tim. On what I hate, I feed not. 
 
 Apem. Dost hate a meclhr .■" 
 
 Tim. Av, tlioiis'i 't 'ook like thee. 
 
 Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou 
 shoifld'st h:ne loved thyself better now. What man 
 didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved 
 after his means ? 
 
 Tim. Who, without those means thou talkest of, 
 didst thou ever know beloved ? 
 
 Apem. iVlyself. 
 
 Tim. I imderstand thee ; thou hadst some means 
 .'.) keep a doff. 
 
 Apem. W^hat things in the world canst thon nearest 
 Ompare to thy flatterers? 
 
 Tim. Women nearest ; but men, men are the thinjjs 
 tiiemselves. What would'st thou do with the world, 
 Apeniantus, if it lay in thy power? 
 
 Apem. Oi\e it tiie beasts, to be rid of the men. 
 
 Tim. Would'st thou have thyself fall in the con- 
 fusio-i of men, and remain a beast with the beast? 
 
 Apem. Ay, 'I'iuion. 
 
 Tim. A beastly ambition, which tlie gods grant 
 thee to attain to! If thou wert the lion, the ibx 
 would bt'guile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox 
 would eat tiiee : if thou wert the fox, the lion would 
 siisi)ect tliee, when, perad venture, thou wert ac- 
 cused by the ass: if thou wert the ass. thy dulness 
 would torment thee ; and stiH thou lived'st but as a 
 breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the woH', thy 
 greediufss would atHict thee, and oit fliou should'st 
 liazard thy life tor thy dinner; wert thou the uni- 
 corn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make 
 ihine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert tiiou a 
 bear, thou would'st be killed by the horse; wert 
 thou a horse, thou would'st be seized by the leopard; 
 wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, 
 and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life : 
 all tliy salety were reraotion ; and thy defence, ab- 
 spncf. What beast could'st thou be, that were not 
 iiiibject to a beast? and what a beast art thou al- 
 reff.ly, tiiat seest not thy loss in transformation? 
 
 Apem. Il'thou could'st please nie with speaking to 
 ine, thou miglit'st have hit upon it here: The com- 
 nion\\e:illli oi Athens is become a forest of beasts. 
 
 Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou 
 art out of the city ? 
 
 Apem. Yonder comes a poet, aiid a painter : the 
 plague ol company light upon thee! I will fear to 
 catch it. and give way : wlieu I know not what else 
 to do, III see thee again. 
 
 Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou 
 slialt be wf-li^ouie. 1 had rather be a beggar's dog 
 than Apeuiantns. 
 
 Apem. I'iiou art the cap of all the fools alive. 
 
 Tim. 'Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon. 
 
 Apem. .k plague on thee, thou art too bad to cnrse. 
 
 Tim. All villains, that do stand by thee, are pure. 
 
 Apem. 'I here is no leprosy but what thou speak'st. 
 
 Tim. h I name thee. — 
 I'll beat tiiee — but 1 should infect my hands. ^ 
 
 Apem. I would, my tongue could rot thera oflF! 
 
 Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! 
 Chiller does kill me, that thou art alive ; 
 f swoon to see thee. 
 
 Apem. 'Would thou wpuld'st burst ! 
 
 Tim. Away, 
 
 Thou tedious rogue ! I am .sorry, I shall lose 
 A stime by thee. {Throws a stone at him,.) 
 
 Apem. Beast ! 
 
 Tim. Slave ! 
 
 Apem. Toad ! 
 
 Tim. Rogue, rogue, rogue ! 
 
 [Apemantus retreats backivard, as goinj. 
 I am sick of tliis false world ; and will love nought 
 But even the mere necessities upon it. 
 Then, Tinion, presently prepare tliy grave; 
 Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat 
 'Ihy grave-stone daily • make thine epitaph. 
 That death in me at others' lives may laugh. 
 
 O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce 
 
 [Looking on the gold.) 
 'Twist natural son and sire ! thou biiglit drfiler 
 Of Hymen's purest bed ! thon valiant iVIars! 
 Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate vv:)f er, 
 VV hose blush doth thaw the consecrated saow 
 That lies on Dian's lap I thou visible god, 
 '1 h;it soldrr'st close impossibilities. 
 And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every 
 
 tongue. 
 To every purpose ! O thon touch of hearts ! 
 Think, thy slave man rebels ; and by thy virtue 
 Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
 May have tlie world in empire! 
 
 Apem. 'Would 'twere so : 
 
 But not till I am dead I — I'll say, thou hast gold : 
 ThiMi wilt be throng'd to shortly. 
 
 Tim. Throng'd to? 
 
 Apem. Ay. 
 
 Tim. T;iy back, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Apem. Live, and love thy misery ! 
 
 Tim. Long live so, and so die! — I am quit. — 
 
 [JSjri/ Apemnntu.t. 
 More things like men? — Eat, Timon, and abhor 
 them. 
 
 Enter Thieves. 
 
 1 Thief. Where should he have this gold ? It is 
 some poor fragment, .«ome slender ort of bis re- 
 mainder: The mere want of gold, and the falling, 
 irom of his Iriends, drove him into this melancholy. 
 
 2 Thief. It is ncised, he hath a mass of treasure. 
 
 3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him ; if he 
 care not for't, he will supply us easily ; If he covet- 
 ously reserve it, how shall's get it? 
 
 2 Thief. True ; for he bears it not about him, 'tis 
 hid. 
 
 1 Thief. Is not this he ? 
 Thieves. Where ? 
 
 2 Thief. 'Tis his description. 
 
 3 Thief. He ; I know him. 
 Thieves. Save thee, Timou. 
 Tim. Now, thieves. 
 Thieves. Soldiers, not thieves. 
 Tirn. Both too ; and women's sons. 
 
 Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much 
 do want. [meat. 
 
 Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of 
 Why should you want ? Behold the earth hath roots ; 
 VVithin this mile break forth a hundred springs : 
 The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips ; 
 The bounteous house.vile, nature, on each bush 
 Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? 
 
 r Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berrie.-', 
 water. 
 As beasts, and birds, and fishes. 
 
 Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, . 
 and fishes ; 
 You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, 
 'I'hat you are thieves profess'd ; that you work not 
 In holier shapes : for tliere is boundless theft 
 In limited professions. Rascal thieves. 
 Here's gold : Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape 
 Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth. 
 And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician : 
 His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
 More than you rob : take wealth and lives together: 
 Do villany, do, since you profess to do't. 
 Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery : 
 The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
 Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, 
 And her pale fire she snatches from the sun ; 
 'J'he sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
 The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief. 
 That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
 From general excrement : each thing's a thief; 
 The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
 Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves ; awaj 
 Rob one another. Tliere's more gold : Cut throata ; 
 All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, 
 
554 
 
 TLMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 yiif^^k <ipen sliojis ; nothing cau you steal, 
 iiut thieves do lose it : Steal not less, for this 
 i give you : and gold cotilouud you howsoever ! 
 Amen. (Titnon ret/res to his Cave.) 
 
 3 Thief. He has almost charmed me irom my 
 profession, by p^-suadiuR me to it. 
 
 i Thief. 'Tis in the midice of mankind, that he thus 
 advises us : not to ha\« us thrive in our mystery. 
 
 2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give 
 over my trade. 
 
 1 Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens : There 
 is no time so n)iserable, but a man may be true. 
 
 [Exeunt Thieves. 
 Enter £]lavius. 
 Flav. O you gods ! 
 [g yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord ? 
 Full of decay and failing? O monument 
 And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd ! 
 What an alteration of honour has 
 Desperate want made ! 
 
 What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, 
 Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends ! 
 How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, 
 When man was wish'd to love his enemies ; 
 Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo 
 Those tiiat would mischief oie, than those that do! 
 He has caught me in his eye : I will present 
 My honest grief unto him ; and as my lord. 
 Still serve him with my life. — My dearest master ! 
 
 TiMON comes forward from his Cave. 
 
 Tim. Away ! what art thou ? 
 
 F/av. Have you forgot me, sir? 
 
 Ti/n. Why dost ask tliat? I have forgot all men ; 
 Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt man, I have forgot tliee. 
 
 Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. 
 
 Tim. Then 
 
 I know thee not : I ne'er had honest man 
 About me, I ; all that 1 kept were knaves. 
 To serve in meat to villains. 
 
 Flav. The gods are witness, 
 
 Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief 
 For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. 
 
 Tim. What, dost thou weep ? — Conie nearer ; — 
 tlien I love thee. 
 Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st 
 Flinty mankind \ whose eyes do never give. 
 But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping ; 
 Strange titnes, that weep with laughing, not with 
 weeping ! 
 
 Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord. 
 To accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth lasts. 
 To entertiiu me as your steward still. 
 
 Titn. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now 
 So comlortHble ? It almost turns 
 My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold 
 Thy face. — Surely, this man 'vas bom of woman. — 
 Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, 
 Perpetual-sober gods ! I do proclaim 
 One honest man, — mistake Ine not, — but one ; 
 No more, I pray, — and he is a steward. 
 How fain would 1 have hated all mankind, 
 And thou redeem'st thyself; But all, save thee, 
 I fell with curses. 
 
 Methinks, thou art more honest now than wise ; 
 For, by oppressing and betraying me, 
 'J'hou might'st have sooner got another service : 
 For many so arrive at second masters, . 
 Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, 
 
 iFor I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,) 
 s not thy kinduess subtle, covetous. 
 If not a usuriug kindness ; ^nd as rich men deal gifts. 
 Expecting in return twenty for one ? 
 
 Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast 
 Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late : 
 You should iiave fear'd false times, when you did 
 
 least : 
 Snopert still comes, where an estate is least. 
 TLat which I shew, heaven knows, is merely love, 
 Dnty aiid 'ieal to your nnmatc.lied mind, 
 
 Care of your food and living : and, believe i^ 
 
 My most honour'd lord. 
 
 For any benefit tliat points to me. 
 
 Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange 
 
 For this one wish, That you had pawer and weami 
 
 To requite me, by making rich yourself. 
 
 Tim. Look thee, 'tis so ! — Thou singly honest man. 
 Here, take : — the gods out of my misery 
 Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy : 
 But thus conditiou'd ; Thou shall build from men; 
 Hate all, curse all ; shew charity to none ; 
 But let the fumish'd flesh slide from the bone, 
 Ere thou relieve the beggar : give to dogs 
 What thou deny'st to men ; let prisons swallow them, 
 Debts wither them : Be men like blasted woods. 
 And may diseases lick up their false bloods ! 
 And so, farewell, and thrive. 
 
 Flav. O, let me stay. 
 
 And comfort you, my master. 
 
 Tim. Ifthouhafst 
 
 Curses, stay not; fly, while thou'rt bless'd and free : 
 Ne'er see thoa man, and let me ne'er see tiiee. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 ACT. V. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. Before Timons Cave. 
 
 Enter Poet and Pai7iter ; TiMON behind, unseen. 
 
 Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot be 
 far where he abides. 
 
 Poet. What's to be thought of him ? Does the 
 rumour hold for true, that he is so lull of gold ? 
 
 Pain. Certain : .^Icibiades reports it : Phrynia 
 and Timandra had gold of him : he likewise en- 
 riched poor stragnjing soldiers with great quantity , 
 'Tis said, he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. 
 
 Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a 
 try for his friends. 
 
 Pain. Nothing else : you shall see him a palm in 
 Athens again, and flourisii with the highest. 'I'here- 
 fore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in 
 this supposed distress of his: it will shew honesty 
 in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with 
 what they travel fur, il'it be a just and true report 
 that goes of his having. 
 
 Poet. What have you now to present unto, him ? 
 
 Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation : 
 only I will promise him an excellent piece. 
 
 Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of an 
 intent that's coming toward liim. 
 
 Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the very 
 air o'the time : it opens the eyes of exjiectation : 
 performance is ever the duller for his act 1 and, but 
 in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed 
 of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most 
 courtly and fashionable : performance is a kind of 
 will, or testament, which argues a great sickness io 
 his judgment that makes it. 
 
 Tim. Excellent workman ! Thou canst not paint 
 a man so bad as is thyself. 
 
 Poet. I am tiiinking what I shall say I have pro- 
 vided for him: It nmst be a personating of himself: 
 a satire against the softness of prosperity ; with a 
 discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth 
 and opulency. 
 
 Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine 
 own work ? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in othej" 
 men ? Do so, I have gold for thee. 
 
 Poet. Nay, let's seek him : 
 Then do we sin against our own estate, 
 When we may profit meet, and come too late. 
 
 Pain. True ; 
 When the day serves, before black-corner'd night. 
 Find what thou want'st by free and ofter'd light. 
 Come. 
 
 Tim I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, 
 That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple 
 Than where swine feed ! 
 
 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and ploujjb'st the 
 foam ; 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 555 
 
 flIeUlest admired reverence in a slave : 
 To thee be worship ! and thy saints for aye 
 Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey ! 
 'Fit I do meet them. (Advancing.) 
 
 Poet. Hail, worthy Timon ! 
 Pain. Our late noble master 
 
 Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men ? 
 Poet. Sir, 
 Having often of your open bounty tasted, 
 Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, 
 Whose thankless natures — O abhorred spirits I 
 Not all the whips of heaven are large enough — 
 What I to you ! 
 
 Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence 
 To their whole being! I'm rapt, and canuot cover 
 The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 
 With any size of words. 
 
 Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the better: 
 Vou, that are honest, by oeing what you are, 
 Make them best seen, and known. 
 
 Pain. He, and myself. 
 
 Have travell'd in the great shower of your gilts. 
 And sweetly felt it. 
 
 Tim. Ay, yoi: are honest men. 
 
 Pain.W e are hither come to oiler you our service. 
 Tim. Most honest men ! Why, how shall I requite 
 you :" 
 Cnn you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. 
 
 Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. 
 Tim. Vou are honest men ; Y'ou have beard that 
 1 have gold; 
 I am sure, you have : speak truth : you are hooest 
 men. 
 Pain. So it is said, my noble lord : but therefore 
 Came not my friend, nor I. 
 
 Tim. Good honest men : — Thou draw'st a coun- 
 terfeit 
 Best in all Athens : thou art, indeed, the best ; 
 Thou counterfeit'st most lively. 
 
 Pain. So, so, my lord. 
 
 Tim, liven so, sir, as I say : — And, fur thy tiction, 
 
 [To the Poet.) 
 Why, thy verses swell with stuff so fine and smooth. 
 That thou art even natural in thine art. — 
 But, for all this, my honest-uatur'd friends, 
 I must needs say, you have a little fault : 
 Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you ; neither wish I, 
 \uu take much pains to mend. 
 
 Both. Beseech yonr honour, 
 
 To make it known to us. 
 
 Tim. You'll take it ill. 
 
 Both. Most thankfully, my lord. 
 Tim. Will you, indeed ? 
 
 Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. 
 Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, 
 That mightily deceives you. 
 
 Both. Do we, ray lord ? 
 
 Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dis- 
 semble. 
 Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him. 
 Keep in your bosom : yet remain assur'd, 
 'J'hat he's a made-up villain. 
 Pain. I know none such, my lord. 
 Poet. Nor I. 
 
 Tim. Look you, I love you well ; I'll give you 
 gold, 
 Rid me those villains from yonr companies : 
 Hang them, or stab them, drown them in a draui^ht, 
 Confound them by some course, and come to me, 
 I'll give you gold enough. 
 Bot/i. Name them, my lord, let's know them. 
 Titn. You that way, and you this, but two in com- 
 pany :— 
 Each man apart, all single and alone. 
 Yet an arch-villain keeps liini cou>pany. 
 If where thou art, two villains sliall not be, 
 
 (To the Painter.) 
 Come not near him. — If thou would'st not reside 
 
 [To the Poet.) 
 But where one villain is, then him abandon. — 
 
 Hence ! pack there's gold, ye came for gold, y» 
 
 slaves : 
 You have done work for me, there's payment : 
 
 Hence! 
 You are an alchymist, make gold of that: — 
 Out, rascal dogs ! 
 
 [Exit, beating and driving them out. 
 
 ScENB II.— T/ie same. 
 Enter Flavius and two Senators. 
 
 Flav. It is in vain that jou would speak with 
 Tinion ; 
 For he is set so only to himself, 
 That nothing but himself, which looks like man. 
 Is friendly with him. 
 
 \ Sen. Bring us to his cave : 
 
 It is our part, and promise to the Athenians, 
 To speak with Timon. 
 
 2 Sen. At all times alike 
 
 Men are not still the same : 'Twas time and griefs. 
 That fraui'd him thus : time, with his fairer hand, 
 OlFering the fortunes of his former days, 
 The former man may make him : Bring us to lura. 
 And chance it as it may. 
 
 Flav. Here is his cave. — 
 
 Peace and content be here I Lord Timon ! Timon ! 
 Look out, and speak to friends : The Athenians, 
 By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee : 
 Speak to them, noble I'imon. 
 
 Enter TiMON. 
 
 Tim. Thou snn, that comfurt'st, burn! — Speak, 
 and be hang'd : 
 For each true word, a blister! and each false 
 Be as a caut'rizing to the root o'the tongue. 
 Consuming it with speaking! 
 
 1 Sen. Worthy Timon— 
 Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. 
 
 2 Sen. Thesenatorsof Athens greet thee, 'fimon. 
 Tim. I thank them ; and would send them backths 
 
 plague, 
 Could I but catch it for them. 
 
 1 Sen. O, forget 
 
 What we are sorry for ourselves in thee, 
 'fhe senators, with one consent of love. 
 Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought 
 On special dignities, which vacant lie 
 For thy best use and wearing. 
 
 - Sen. They confess. 
 
 Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross: 
 Which now the public body,— which doth seldom 
 Play the recanter,— feeling iu itself 
 A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal 
 Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon • 
 And send forth us, to make their sorrowed render. 
 Together with a recompense more fruitful 
 Than their offence can weigh down by the dram ; 
 Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth. 
 As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs. 
 And write in thee the figures of their love. 
 Ever to read them thine. 
 
 Tim. You witch me in it ; 
 
 Surpris(4 me to the vei7 brink of tears : 
 Lend me a fools heart, and a woman's eyes. 
 And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators. 
 
 1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return with us. 
 And of our .Athens {thine, and ours.) to take 
 
 The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, 
 
 Aliow'd with absolute power, and thy good name 
 
 Live with authority :— so soon we shall drive back 
 
 Ot^ Alcibiades tlie approaches wild; 
 
 VV ho, like a boar too savage, doth root up 
 
 His country's peace. 
 
 2 Sen. And shakes his threat' ning sword 
 Against the walls of Athens. 
 
 J S«n. Therefore, Timon,- 
 
 Ttm. Well, sir, I will ; therefore, I vyill, sir* 
 Thus, — 
 
 If Alcibiades kilt my countrymen. 
 
 Let .Alcibiades know this of Timon, 
 
556 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Tiiat— Timon cares not. But i'lie sack fair .^then^ 
 
 And take our goodly aged men l)y the beards, 
 
 Giving our holy virgins to the stain 
 
 Of coiitninelions, beastly, inad-brain'd war; 
 
 Then, let him know, — and tell him, Timon speaks it. 
 
 In pity of onr aged, and onr youth, 
 
 I cannot choose bnt tell him, that — I care not. 
 
 And let him tak't at worst ; lor their knives care not. 
 
 While you have throats to answer ; for myself. 
 
 There's not a whittle in the unruly camp. 
 
 But 1 do prize it at my love, before 
 
 The reverend's! throat in Athens. So I leave yoa 
 
 To the protection of the prosperous gods, 
 
 As thieves to keepers. 
 
 Flav. Stay not, all's in vain. 
 
 Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, 
 It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness 
 Of health, and living, now begins to mend, 
 And nothirp brings me all things. Go, live still ; 
 Be Alcibiades your plague, you Ids, 
 And last so long euoiigli! 
 
 1 Sen. We speak in vain. 
 
 Ti7?i. Biit yet I love my country ; and am not 
 One that rejoices in the conmion wreck, 
 As common bruit doth put it. 
 
 1 Sen. That's well spoke. 
 
 Tim. Commend me to my loving countrymen, — 
 
 1 Sen. These words become your lips as they pass 
 
 through them. 
 
 2 Sen. And enter in onr ears like great triumphers 
 In their applauding gates. 
 
 Tim. Commend me to them ; 
 
 And tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs. 
 Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses. 
 Their pangs of love, with other incident throes 
 That nature's Iragile vessel doth sustain 
 In ^iie's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do 
 
 them : 
 I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. 
 
 2 Si-n. I like this well, he will return again. 
 
 Tim. I li-ave a tree, which grows here in my close. 
 That mine own use invites me to cut down. 
 And sh<utly must I fell it; Tell my friends, 
 Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree. 
 From high to low throughout, that whoso please 
 To stop affliction, let him take his haste. 
 Come hither, eie my tree hath felt the axe. 
 And hang himself: — I pray you, do my greeting. 
 
 Flav. Trouble him no fmtlier, thus you still shall 
 tind him. 
 
 Tim. Come not to me again : but say to Athens, 
 Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
 Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; 
 Which once a day with his embossed froth 
 The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come, 
 And let my grave-stone be your oracle. — 
 Lips, let sour words go by, and language end : 
 What is amiss, plague and infection mend ! 
 Graves only be men's works ; and death, their gain ! 
 Sun, hide thy beams ! Timon hath done his reign. 
 
 [Exit Timon. 
 
 1 Sen. His discontents are unremoveably 
 Coupled to nature. 
 
 2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead . let us return, 
 .\nd strain whrit other means is left unto us 
 
 In our dear peril. 
 1 Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III.— T^e Walls of Athens. 
 Enter two Senators and a Messenger. 
 
 1 Sen. Tnou hast painfully discover'd ; are his files 
 As full as thy report? 
 
 Mess. I have spoke the least : 
 
 Besides, his expedition promises 
 Present approach. 
 
 2 Sen. W e stand much hazard, if they bring not 
 
 Pinion. 
 Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend ; — 
 Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, 
 Vet our old love made a particular force. 
 
 And made ns speak like friends: — Uiis man was 
 
 riding 
 From Alcibiades to Timou's cave, 
 V\ ith letters of entreaty, which imported 
 His fellowship i'the cause against your city, 
 III part fur his sake mov'd. 
 
 Enter Senators fro/n Timon. 
 
 1 Sen. Here come our brothers 
 
 3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.— 
 The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring 
 Doth choke the air with dust : In, and prepare ; 
 Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — The Woods. Timon's Cave, and a 
 Tombstone seen. 
 
 Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon. 
 
 Sold. By all description this should be the place. 
 Who's here";' speak, ho! — No answer? — What is 
 
 this ? 
 Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span : 
 Some beast rcar'd this ; there does not live a man. 
 Dead, sure ; and this his grave. — 
 What's on this tomb I cannot read ; the character 
 I'll take with wax : 
 Our captain hath in every figure skill : 
 An ag'd interpreter, though young in days : 
 Before proud .\thens he's set down by this, 
 Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — Before the Walls of Athens. 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades and Fot ces. 
 Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious towt 
 Our terrible approach. {A parley sounded.) 
 
 Enter Senators on the walls. 
 
 Till now you have gone on, and fiU'd the time 
 With all licentious measure, making your wills 
 Tl'.e scope of justice ; till now, myself, and auch 
 As slept within the shadow of your power, 
 Have wander'd with ourtravers'd arms,and breath'd 
 Our sulferance vainly : Now the time is flush, 
 When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong. 
 Cries, of itself, No more : now breathless wrong 
 Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ; 
 And pursy indolence shall break his wind 
 With fear, and horrid flight. 
 
 1 Sen. Noble, and young, 
 When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, 
 Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear, 
 We sent to thee ; to give thy rages balm, 
 
 To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 
 Aboie their quantity. 
 
 2 Sen. So did we woo 
 Translormed Timon to onr city's love, 
 
 By humble message, and by promis'd means: 
 We were not all unkind, nor all deserve 
 The common stroke of war. 
 
 1 Sen. These walls of ours 
 Were not erected by their hands, from whom 
 You have rec-iv'd y<iur griefs : nor are they such. 
 That these great towers, trophies, and school* 
 
 should fall 
 For private faults in them. 
 
 2 Sen. Nor are they living, 
 Who were the motives that you first went out; 
 Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess 
 
 Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, ^ 
 
 Into our city with thy banners spread : 
 
 By decimation, and a tithed death, 
 
 (If thy revenges hunger for that food, 
 
 VVhich nature loaths.) take thou the destiu'd tenth 
 
 And by the hazard of the spotted die. 
 
 Let die the spotted, 
 
 1 Sen, AH have not oliended ;' 
 
 For those that were, it is not square to take. 
 On those that are, revenges : crimes, like lands. 
 Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, 
 Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 557 
 
 tare thy Athenian cradle, and (hose kin, 
 Which, in the bhister of thy wratli, nui.st fall 
 With those that have olfended : like ;> shej.Jierd, 
 Apijfoach the fold, and cull the inlect<'d forth. 
 Rut kill not all toi^ether. 
 
 2 Sen. 
 
 What thoi, wilt, 
 
 'J'iv'ii rather shalt enforce it with tiiy smile, 
 \'U.\\\ hew tot with tliy sword. 
 
 1 .SVh. Sr-t but thy foot 
 A;;iiiiist our ratnpir'd gates, and they Khali ope • 
 S;> tho',1 wilt send thy gentle heart i)efore, 
 
 To Hiiv, (hoii'lt enter friendly. 
 
 2 6W;. Throw thy glovf, 
 Or any token of thine honour else, 
 
 That tiiou wilt use the wars as thy redress, 
 And not as our confusion, all thy powers 
 Shall make (heir harbour in our town, till we 
 Ha\e seal'd thy full desire. 
 
 Alcih. Then there s ray glove ; 
 
 Descend, and open your uncharged ports : 
 Those enemies of Timon's, and mine ovvn, 
 WJiora you yoursehes shall set out far reproof. 
 Fall, and no more : and, — to atone your fears 
 Witli my more noble meanlM, — not a nitui 
 Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream 
 t)f regulnr justice in your city's bounds, 
 Bui shall be reivedieu, to your public laws. 
 At heaviest answer. 
 
 Biith. 'Tis most nobly 3j)ok.en. 
 
 Atcih. Descend, and keep your words. 
 The Senators descent/, and open the gates. 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 Sol. IVIy noble general, 'J'linon is di-ad ; 
 Eiitoinb'ii upon tlie \ ery hem u'tlie sea : 
 And, on his nr.i\esfcjiie, t.'iis inxciiliiture ; which 
 \Vith w.ix I brought away, wliase soft impression 
 Iiiterpiets for my p^'ir ignorance. 
 Alcib. (Reads ) Here lies a wretched corse, o, 
 
 ti'retclud soul bereft : 
 Seek not my ninne : A platjue consume you wicl-cd 
 
 caitifs left ! 
 Here lie I Timon ; tvho alive, all livimj meit din 
 
 hate : 
 Pass by, and curse thy fdl; hut pass, and slan 
 
 not lure thy (jait. 
 These well express in thee thy latter spirits : 
 Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, 
 Scorn'dst our brain's flow, and those our drop!>=fs 
 
 which 
 From niggaid nature fall, yet ri^h conceit 
 Tauf:ht thee to make vast Neptune weeji for aye 
 On thy low gra\e, on faults forgiven. Dtad 
 Is noble Timon ; of whose memory 
 Hereafter more. — Bring me into your city, 
 And I will use the olive with my s'v\ord : 
 Make war breed peace ; make peace stint war; 
 
 make each 
 Prescribe to otlier, as each other's leech. — 
 Let our drums strike. iRxeunt. 
 
CORIOLANUS. 
 
 The traperly of Coriolanus is one of the most amusinp of our author's perfomiances. Tbe old man's nierriinoat 
 in Meiieuivu; the lofty lacl> '^ (li};iiit) lu Volumnia; the bridal niouestv in Vir^ilia ; tlie iiatriciaii and inilitno" hdugkl- 
 lincss in Coriolanus ; the ijlebejan m IJrutiu auii Siciutus, make a very plcasijig variety ; and tbe various rtrvolulions 
 of tbe hero's fortune, fill tbe mind whh anxioua curiosity. There is, pediflps, too much bustle iu the first act, auJ 
 too little iu the last. Jo/i/ison. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOI^NCS, a noble Romen. 
 COMIMUS, J uenerals against the Volscians. 
 
 MENENIUS AGRIPJ'A, Frit-id to Cjiiolaiius. 
 JUNIUS BRUTUS, ] rnbintes of the People. 
 Young MARCIUS, Son to Coriolanus. 
 A Raman Herald. 
 
 TULLUS AUFIOrUS, General (if the Vohcians. 
 Lieutenant to Aufidius. 
 
 Conapirators with Anfiilius. 
 
 A Citizen of Ai,tiu;n. 
 
 Two Volscia:i Guards. 
 
 VOLUMNIA, Mother to Coriolanus. 
 
 VIRGILIA, V'ife to CorioUoivs. 
 
 VALERIA, Friend to Virr/iiia. 
 
 Oenttewonian, attending I irgilia. 
 
 Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, A'diles, Ltc- 
 
 tors. Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Au 
 
 Jidius, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Partly in Rome; and partly in the Territories of the Vohcians and Antiates. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Rome. A Street. 
 
 Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with 
 staves, duds, and other weapons. 
 
 1 Cit. Before we proceed any farther, liear me 
 speak. 
 
 Cit. Speak, speak. {Several speaking/ at once.) 
 
 1 Cit. Voti are all resolved rather to die, tliau to 
 famish ? 
 
 Cit. Resolved, resolved. 
 
 1 Cit. First you know, Caius Marcius is chief 
 enemy to tlie people. 
 
 Cit. We know't, we know't. 
 
 1 Cit. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our 
 own price. Is't a verdict? 
 
 Cit. No more talking on't; let it be done : away, 
 away. 
 
 2 Cit. One word, good citizens. 
 
 1 Cit. VVe are accounted poor citizens ; the pa- 
 tricians, good : What authority surleils on, would 
 relieve asj If they would yield us but the super- 
 fluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess, 
 they relieved us humanely; but they think, we are 
 tiK"i dear: the leanness that aiBicts us, the object of 
 our misery, is as an invenlory to particularize their 
 abundance ; our sufferance is a gain to them. — Let 
 us revenge this vvith our piiscs, ere we become rakes : 
 for tlie gods know, I speak this in hunger for bread, 
 not in thirst for re\enge. 
 
 2 Cit. Would you proceed especially against 
 Cains Marcius? 
 
 Cit. Against him first; he's a very, dog to the 
 commonalty. 
 
 2 Cit. Consider yoa what services he has done 
 fur hia country ? 
 
 1 Cit. Very well ; and could be content to give 
 liiin goad report fort, but that he pays himself with 
 l)eiiig proud. 
 
 '2 (.'it. Nuy, but speak not maliciously. 
 
 1 Ctt. I say unto you, what he hath done fa- 
 uiou;>ly, he did it to that end: thougii soft con- 
 Bcieuc'd men can be content to say, it was for liis 
 counlry, he did it to please his motlier, and to be 
 
 art1y proud ; which he is, even to the altitude of 
 li;* t utile. 
 
 2 Ct. V\'hat he caniKit help in his nature, you ac- 
 cou.ii :i vice in him: You must in no way say, he 
 
 is C: xetnUS. 
 
 1 Cil If I must not, I need not be barren ofac- 
 cusHtioiis; he h:ith faults, with surjilus, to tire in 
 repeti;ion. (Shouts within.) What shouts are these? 
 'I'ne ol!,<r side o the c-.ty is risen: Why stay we 
 prating here ? to Uie Capitol. 
 
 Ctt. Come, come. 
 
 1 Cit. Soil; who come here ? 
 
 I 
 
 Enter Menknius Agrippa. 
 
 2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that hath 
 always loved the people. 
 
 1 Cit. He's one honest enough ; 'Would, all the 
 rest were so 1 
 
 Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand ? 
 
 Where go you [you. 
 
 With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray 
 
 ] Cit. Our husiness is not unknown to the senate ; 
 they have liad inkling, this fortnight, what we in- 
 tend to do, which now we'll shew 'em in deeds. 
 They say, poor suitors have strong breaths ; they 
 shall kiio'iV, we ha\e stroug arms too. 
 
 Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine ho- 
 nest neighbours. 
 Will you undo yourselves? 
 
 1 Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already. 
 
 Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care 
 Have the patricians of you. For your wants, 
 Your suffering iu this ueartli, you may as well 
 Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lilt them 
 Against the Roman state; whose course will on 
 The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs 
 Of more strong link asunder, than can ever 
 Appear in your impediment : For the dearth, 
 Ttie gods, not the patricians, make it; and 
 Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, 
 You are transported by calamity 
 Thither where more attends you ; and you slander 
 The helms o'the state, who care for you lilve fathers. 
 When you curse them as enemies. 
 
 1 Cit. Care for us ! — True, indeed ! — They ne'er 
 cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their 
 store-houses crammed with grain ; make edicts for 
 usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any whole- 
 some act established against the rich, and provide 
 more piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain 
 the poor. 11 the wars eat us not up, they will ; and 
 there's all the love they bear us. 
 
 Men. Either you must 
 Coni'ess yourselves wondrous malicious, 
 Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you 
 A pretty tale ; it may be, you have heard it ; 
 But, since it serves my purposes, I will venture 
 To srale't a little more. 
 
 1 Cit. Well, I'll hear it, sir : yet you must not 
 think to fob off our disgrace with a tale : but, an't 
 please you, deliver. fuiembers 
 
 Me7i'. There was a time, when all the b«dy'» 
 Rebell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it :— 
 That only like a gulf it did remain 
 I'the midst o'the body, iiile aud inactive. 
 Still ciipboaidiiig the viand, never bearing 
 Like labour with the rest; where the other iiistniiiienf j 
 Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, \valk, ieel. 
 And, mutually participate, did niini.^ter 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 559 
 
 Unto the appetite and afTection common 
 Of the whole body. The belly answer'd, — 
 
 1 at. Well, sir, what answer made the belly ? 
 
 Men. 1 shall tell you.— W'iUi a kind of smile. 
 Which ne'er came from the Iuiiks, but even thus, 
 (For, look you, I may make the belly smile, 
 As well as speak,) it tauntiujrly replied 
 To the discontented members, the mutinous parts 
 That envied his receipt; even so most fitly 
 As you malign our senators, tor that 
 They arc not sucli as j'ou. 
 
 1 Cit. 1 our belly's answer: What I 
 
 The kingly- crowned head, the vigilant eye, 
 The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, 
 Our steed the leg', the tongue our trumpeter, 
 With other muniments and petty helps 
 fn this our fabric, if that they — 
 
 Men. What then?— 
 
 'Fore rae, this fellow speaks ! — what the.n? what 
 then? 
 
 1 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd. 
 Who is the sink o'the body, — 
 
 Men. Well, what then? 
 
 1 Cit. The former agents, if they did complain. 
 What could the belly answer? 
 
 Men. I will tell you ; 
 
 If you'll bestow a small (of what you have little) 
 Patience, a while, you'll hear the belly's answer. 
 
 1 Cit. V'ou are long about it. 
 
 Men. Note me this, good friend; 
 
 Your most grave belly was deliberate. 
 Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd : 
 True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth lie. 
 That 1 receive the general food at first, 
 Which you do live upon : and fit it is ; 
 Because I am the store-house, and the shop 
 Of the tvhole body ; But if you do remember, 
 I send it throwjh the rivers of your blood. 
 Even to the coiirt, the heart, — to the seat o'the 
 
 brain ; 
 And, through the cranks and offices ofman^ 
 The strongest nerves, and small inferior veins. 
 From me receive that natural competency 
 Whereby they live: And though that all at once, 
 You, my good friends (this says the belly,) mark 
 
 1 Cit. Ay, sir; well, well. [me, — 
 
 Men. Though all at otice cannot 
 
 See what I do deliver out to each ; 
 Yet I can make my audit up, that all 
 Frotn me do bach receive thejloiver of all, 
 And leave me but the bran. What say you to't? 
 
 1 Cit. It was an answer: How aj)ply you this'/ 
 
 Men. The senators of Rome are this good belly, 
 And you the mutinous members: For examine 
 Their counsels, and their cares ; digest things rightly. 
 Touching the weal o'the common ; you shall find, 
 No public benefit which you receive. 
 But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you. 
 And no way from yourselves. — What do you think ? 
 Yon, the great toe of this assembly ? — 
 
 1 Cit. 1 the great toe ? Why the great toe ? 
 
 Men. For that being one o'the lowest, basest, 
 poorest, 
 Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: 
 Thou rascal, that art worst in blood, to run 
 Lead'st first to win some vantage. — 
 Hut make you ready your stitl' bats and clubs ; 
 Rome and her rats are at the point of battle. 
 The one side must have bale.— Hail, noble Marcius ! 
 
 Enter Caius Marcius. 
 
 Mar. Thanks. — What's the matter, yon dissen- 
 tious rogues, 
 Tliat rubbing the poor itch of your opinion. 
 Make yourselves scabs ? 
 1 Ctt. We have ever your good word. 
 
 Mar. He that will give good words to thee, will 
 flatter [curs, 
 
 Beneath abhorring. — What would you have, you 
 That like nor peace, nor war'? the one affrights you, 
 
 The other makes yoa proud. He that trusts you, 
 
 Where he should find vou lions, finds you hares; 
 
 Where foxes, geese : \ ou are no surer, no. 
 
 Than is the coal of fire upon the ice. 
 
 Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, 
 
 To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, 
 
 And curse that justice did it Who deserves great- 
 
 ness. 
 Deserves your hate: and your affections are 
 A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 
 Which would increase his evil. He, that depends 
 Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 
 And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust 
 With every rninute you do change a mind ; fye ? 
 And call him noble, that was now your hate, 
 Him vile, that was your garland. \Vhat's the matter 
 That in these several places uf the city 
 i ou cry against the noble senate, who, 
 Under the gods, keep you in awr., which else 
 Would feed on one another '! — What's their seeking'? 
 
 Men. For corn at their own rates ; whereof, they 
 The city is well stor'd. (say. 
 
 Mar. Hang 'em ! they say? 
 
 They'll sit by the fire, and presimie to know 
 Wliat's done i'the Capitol: who's like to rise, 
 W^ho thrives, and who declines : side factions, and 
 
 give out 
 Conjectural marriage^: making parlies strong, 
 And feebling such as stand not in their liking. 
 Below their cobbled shoes. They say, tliere's grain 
 
 enough ? 
 Would the nobility lay aside their ruth. 
 And let me use ray sword, I'd make a quarry 
 W"ith thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as liigh 
 As I could pick ray lance. 
 
 Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded ; 
 For though abundantly they lack discretion. 
 Yet are they passing cowardly. But, 1 beseech 
 What says the other troop? [you, 
 
 Mar. They are dissolved : Hatig 'em ! 
 
 They said, they were an-hungry ; sigh'd forth pro- 
 verbs ; — 
 That, hunger broke stone walls : that, dogs must eat; 
 That, meat was made for mouths ; that, the gods 
 
 sent not 
 Corn for the rich men only : — With these shreds 
 They vented their complainings ; which being an- 
 swer'd. 
 And a petition granted them, a strange one, 
 (To break the heart of generosi [caps 
 
 And make bold power look pai^,J they threw their 
 As they would hang them ou the hums o'the moon', 
 Shouting their emulation. 
 
 Men. What is granted them? [doins. 
 
 Mar. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wis- 
 Of their own choice : One's Junius Brutus, 
 Sicinius Velutus, and I know not — 'Sdeath ! 
 The rabble should have first unroofd the city, 
 Ere so prevail'd with me : it will in time 
 Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes 
 For insurrection's arguing. 
 
 Men. This is strange. 
 
 Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. VVhere's Caius Marcius? 
 Mar. Here: What's the matter'' 
 Mess. The news is, sir, the Voices are in arms. 
 Mar. I am glad on't; then we siiall June means 
 to vent 
 Our musty superfluity: — See, our best elders. 
 
 Enter Cominuis, Titus Lartius, and of her Sena- 
 tars; Junius Brutus, ««rf Sicinius Vei.utus. 
 ] Sen. Marcius, 'lis true, that you have lately 
 
 The Voices are in arms. (told us • 
 
 Mar. Tliey have a leader, 
 
 Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. 
 
 I sin in envying his nobility : 
 
 And were I any thing but what I am. 
 
560 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act T. 
 
 I would wish me only he. 
 
 Co7H. Yon have fought together. 
 
 Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, 
 Qpon my party, I'd revolt, to make [and he 
 
 July my wars with him : he is a lion 
 That I am proud to hunt. 
 
 1 Se)i. Then, worthy Marcius, 
 
 Attend upon Cominiiisto these wars. 
 
 Com. it is your former promise. 
 
 Mrir. Sir, it is; 
 
 And I am constant. — Titus Lartiiis, thou 
 iSlialt see uie once more strike at Tullus' face : 
 What, art thou stiff? stand'st out 'i 
 " Tit. No, Caius Marcius ; 
 
 I'll lean upon one crutch, and fight with the other. 
 Ere stay behind this business. 
 
 Men. O, true bred ! 
 
 1 Sen. Your company to the capitui; where, I 
 Our greatest friends attend us. [know. 
 
 Tit. Lead you on ; 
 
 Follow, Cominius; we must follow you; 
 Right worthy your priority. 
 
 Com. Noble Lnrtins ! 
 
 I Sen, Hence ! To your homes, be e<ine. 
 
 {To the Cilisens.) 
 
 Mfir. Nay, let them follow: 
 
 The Voices have much corn ; take these rats thither, 
 To gnaw their garners : — Worshipful mutineers. 
 Your valour puts well forth : pray, follow. 
 
 [Exeunt Senators, Com. Mar. Tit. and 
 Menen. Citizens steal aivay. 
 
 Sic. Was e\ er man so proud as is this Marcius ? 
 
 liru. He has no equal. [pie, — 
 
 Sic: When we were chosen tribunes for the peo- 
 
 Bru. Mark'd you his lip, and eyes? 
 
 Sic. Nay, but his taunts. 
 
 Bnt. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the 
 
 Sic. Be-mock the modest moou. _ [gods. 
 
 Brii. 'J'he present wars devour him : he is grown 
 Too proud to be so valiant. 
 
 Sic. Such a nature. 
 
 Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow 
 Which he treads on at noon: But I do wonder. 
 His insolence can brook to be commanded 
 Under Cominius. 
 
 Bru. Fame, at the which he aims, — 
 
 In whom already he is well grac'd, — cannot 
 Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by 
 A place below the first: for what miscarries 
 Shall be the general's fault, though he perform 
 To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure 
 Will then cry out of Marcius, 0, if he 
 Had borne the business! 
 
 Sic. Besides, if things go well. 
 
 Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall 
 Of i)is demerits rob Cominius. 
 
 Urii. Come : 
 
 Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, 
 Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults 
 To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed, 
 In aught he merit not. 
 
 Sic. Let's hence, and hi-ar 
 
 How the despatch, is made ; and iu wiiat fashion, 
 More than in singularity, he goes 
 Upon his present action. 
 
 Bru. Let's along. [Exennt. 
 
 Scene II. — Corioli. The Senate- House. 
 Enter Tcllus Aufidius, and certain Senaiurs, 
 I Sen. So, vour opinion is, Aufidius, 
 That they of flome are enter'd in our counsels. 
 And know how we proceed. 
 
 Auf, Is it not yours ? 
 
 Whatever hath been thought on in this state. 
 That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome 
 Had circumvention? "J'is not four days gone, 
 S'nce I heard thence; the.se are the words: I think, 
 1 have the letter here ; yes, here it is : (Beads.) 
 They have press'd apuiver, but it is not known 
 Whether for east or tvest : The dearth is great ; 
 
 The people mutinous: and it is rumour' d, 
 Coiinnius, Miucins your old enemy, 
 [Who is of Rome worse haled i/ta?i of)/uu.) 
 AndT\U\& Lartiiis, n most valiant Roman, 
 These three lead on thi.n preparation 
 Whither 'tis bent : most likely, 'tis for you: 
 Consider of it. 
 
 1 Sen. Our army's in the field : 
 
 We never yet made doubt but Home was ready 
 To answer us. 
 
 Auf. Nor did you think it folly. 
 
 To keep your great jiretences veli'd, till when 
 They needs must shew themselves; wiiich in the 
 
 hatching. 
 It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovtry 
 We shall be shorten'd in our aim ; which was, . 
 To take in many towns, ere, almost, Rome 
 Should know we were afoot. 
 
 2 Sen. Noble Aufidius, 
 Take your conmiission: hie you to your bands: 
 Let us alone to guard Corioli : 
 
 If they set down before us, for the remove 
 Bring up your army; but. I think, you'll find 
 They have not prepar'd for us. 
 
 Auf. O, doubt not that ; 
 
 I speak from certainties. Nay, more, 
 Some parcels of their powers are forth already, 
 And only hitherward. 1 leave your honours. 
 If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, 
 ' lis sworn between us, we shall never strike. 
 Till one can do no more. 
 
 All. The gods assist you i 
 
 Auf. And keep your honours safe ! 
 
 1 Sen. Farewell 
 
 2 Sen. Farewell. 
 All. Farewell. [E.veunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Rome. An Apartment in Marciuu 
 House. 
 
 Enter Volumnia and Virgilia : They sit down on 
 two low stools, and sew. 
 
 Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing ; or express your 
 self in a more comfortable sort: If my son were my 
 husband, I sliould freelier rejoice iu that absence 
 wherein he won honour, than in the embracements 
 of his bed, where he would shew most love. When 
 yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son oi 
 my womb ; when youth with comeliness plucked 
 all gaze his way ; when, for a day of king's entreaties, 
 a mother should not sell him an hour from her 
 beholding ; I, — considering how honour would be- 
 come such a person; that it was no better than 
 picture like to nang by the wall, if renown made it 
 not stir, — was pleasea tolet him seek danger where 
 he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent 
 him ; from whence he returned, his brows bound 
 with oak. I tell thee, daughter, — I sprang not more 
 in joy at first hearing he was a man-child, than now 
 in first seeing he had proved himself a man. 
 
 Vir. But had he died in the business, madam, 
 how tlien ? 
 
 Vol. Then bis good report should have been my 
 son ; 1 therein would have found issue. Hear me 
 |)rofess sincerely : — Had I a dozen sons, — each in 
 my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my 
 )^ood Marcius, — I had rather had eleven die. nobly 
 f(.r their country, than cue voluptuously surfeit out 
 of action. 
 
 Enter a Gentlewoman. 
 
 Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit 
 vou. [self. 
 
 Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire my- 
 
 Vol. Indeed, you shall not. 
 Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum ; 
 See him pluck Aufidius down by the h.iir; 
 As children from a bear, the Voices .shiisminir him: 
 Mcthmks, 1 see him st:unp thus, and call thus, — 
 Come on, you cowards, if ou were got in fear. 
 Though you were born in Rotne : His bloody brow 
 
Scene 4, 
 
 CORTOLANUS. 
 
 561 
 
 WHh his mail'd hand then wipins?, forth he ;joes , 
 Like to a harvest man, thafs task'd to mow 
 Or all, or lose his hire. 
 
 Vir. His bloody brow ! O, Jupiter, no blood ! 
 
 Vol. Away, yon fool ! it more becomes a man, 
 Than gilt his' trophy : the breasts of Hecuba, 
 When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier 
 Than Hector's iorehead, when it spit ibrth b'ood 
 At Grecian swords' contending. — Tell Valei;a, 
 We aie fit to bid her welcome. [Exit G^nf. 
 
 Vir. Heavens oless my lord from fell Aufidius ! 
 
 Vol. He'll beat Aiifidius' head below hu knee. 
 And tread npon his neck. 
 
 Re-enter Gentleivoman, ivith Valeri.\ and her 
 Usher. 
 
 Vnl. My ladies both, good day to you. 
 
 Vol. Sweet madam, — 
 
 Vir. I am glad to see yotir ladyship. 
 
 Val. How do you both'r" you are manifest house- 
 keepers. What, are you sewing here :* A tine spot, 
 in good faith. — How does your little sou? 
 
 Vir. I thank your ladyship ; well, good madam. 
 
 Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a 
 drum, than look upon his schoolmaster. 
 
 Vol. O' my word, the father's son : I'll swear, 
 'tis a very pretty boy. O'my troth, I looked upon 
 him ©'Wednesday half an hour together: he lias 
 such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after 
 a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it, he let it 
 go again ; and alter it again ; and over and over he 
 comes, and up again; catched it again: or whether 
 his fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his 
 teeth, and tear it; O, 1 warrant, how he mam- 
 mocked it! 
 
 Vol. One of his father's moods. 
 
 Val, Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. 
 
 Vir. A crack, madam. 
 
 Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery ; I must have 
 you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. 
 
 Vir, No, good madam ; I will not out of doors. 
 
 Val. ISot out of doors? 
 
 Vol. She shall, she shall. 
 
 Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience : I will not 
 over the threshold, till my lord return from the 
 wars. 
 
 Val. Fy, you confine yourself most unreason- 
 ably ; Come, you must go visit the good lady that 
 lies in. 
 
 Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit 
 her with my prayers ; but I cannot go thither. 
 
 Vol. Why, I pray you? 
 
 Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. 
 
 Val. You would be another Penelope ; yet, they 
 say, all tlie yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did 
 but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your 
 cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might 
 ■ leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with 
 us. 
 
 Vir. No, good madam, pardon me ; indeed, I will 
 not forth. 
 
 /al. In truth, la, go with me ; and I'll tell you 
 excellent news of your husband. 
 
 Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet. 
 
 Val. Verily, I do not jest with you ; there came 
 news from him last night. 
 
 Vir. Indeed, madam? 
 
 Val. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak 
 it. Thus it is : — The Voices have an army forth ; 
 against whom Cominius the general is gone, with 
 one part of our Roman power: your lord, and Titus 
 Lartius, are set down before their city Corioli ; they 
 iiothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars. 
 This is true, on mine honour ; and so, I pray, go 
 with us. 
 
 Vir. Give me excuse, good madam ; I will obey 
 you in every tiling hereafter. 
 
 Vol. Let her alone, lady ; as she is now, she will 
 but disease our better mirth. 
 
 Val. In troth, I think, she would : — Fare you 
 
 well then. — Come, good sweet lady. — Pr'ythce, Vir- 
 gilia, turn thy solemnness out odoor, and go along 
 with us. 
 
 Vir. No : at a word, madam ; indeed, I must not. 
 I wish you much mirth. 
 
 Val. Well, then farewell. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene IV. — Before Corioli. 
 Enter, with drum and colours, Marcius. Trrus 
 
 Lartius, Ojficers, and Soldiers. To them a 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 Mar. Yonder comes news: — A wager, they have 
 
 hart. My horse to yours, no. [met 
 
 Mar. 'Tis done. 
 
 Lart. Agried. 
 
 Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy ? 
 
 Mess. 'I'hey lie in view; but have not spoke a.i 
 
 Lart. So, the good horse is mine. [yet. 
 
 Mar. I'll buy him of you. 
 
 Lart. No, I'll nor sell, nor give hira: lend yo" 
 him, I will. 
 For half a hundred years. — Summon the town. 
 
 Mar. How far oti' lie these armies ? 
 
 Mess. VV'ithin this mile and half. 
 
 Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they 
 ours. 
 Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work ; 
 That we with smoking swords may march from 
 
 hence, 
 To help our fielded friends ! — Come, blow thy blast. 
 
 They sound a parley. Enter, on the ivalls, some 
 
 Senators, and others. 
 Tiillus Aufidius, is he within your walls? 
 
 I Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than he. 
 That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums 
 
 {Alarums afar off.) 
 Are bringing forth our youth : V\ ell break our walls. 
 Rather than they shall pound us up : our gates, 
 Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with 
 
 rushes ; 
 They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far off; 
 
 {Other Alarums. 
 There is Aufidius ; list, what work he makes 
 Amongst your cloven army. 
 
 Mar. O, they are at it 1 [ho! 
 
 Lart. Their noise be our instruction. — Ladders, 
 
 The Voices enter, and pass over the stage. 
 Mar. They fear us not. but issue fortli their city. 
 Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight 
 With hearts more proof than shield.s. — Advance, 
 
 brave Titus : 
 They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts. 
 Which makes me sweat with wrath. — Come on, 
 
 my fellows; 
 He that retires, I'll take him for a Voice, 
 And he shall feel mine edge. 
 
 Alarum, and exeunt Romans and Voices, fighting. 
 The Romans are beaten back to their tretiches. 
 Re enter Marcius. 
 
 Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you. 
 You shames of Rome! you herd of — Boils and plagues- 
 Plaster you o'er ; that you may be abhorr'd 
 Further than seen, and one infect another 
 Against the wind a mile ! You souls of geese 
 That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 
 From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell ! 
 All hurt behind ; backs red, and faces pale 
 With flight and agued fear ; Mend, and charge home, 
 Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, 
 And make my wars on you : look to't : Come on , 
 If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives. 
 As they us to our trenches toUuwed. 
 
 Another alarum. The Voices and Romans re- 
 enter, and the fight is renewed. The Voices 
 retire into Corioti, and AIarcius follows them 
 to the gates. 
 
 So, now the gates are ope ; Now prove goodsecouus 
 
 '.{tj 
 
J62 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Tifl for the followers fortune widens them, 
 Not (or tlie flvf rs : mark me, and do the like. 
 
 '{He enters the gates, and is shut m.) 
 
 l-Sol. Fool-liardiuess; not I. 
 
 •2 Sol. Nor I. 
 
 3 So/. h>ee,they 
 
 Have shut him in. [Alarum continues.) 
 
 All. To the pot, I warrant him. 
 
 Enter Titus Lartius. 
 
 Lart. What is become of Marcius ? 
 
 All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 
 
 1 Sul. Following the tilers at the very heels, 
 With them he enters : who, upon the sudden, 
 Clapij'd to their gates ; he is himself alone, 
 To answer all the city. > 
 
 Lnri. noble fellow ! 
 
 Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword. 
 And, when it bows, stands up! Thou art left, Mar- 
 A caibuncle entire, as.big as thou art, , ,f*^'"* ' 
 VVere not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier 
 iEven to Cato's wish, nut tierce and terrible 
 Only iji strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and 
 Tlie thuuder-like percussion of tiiy. sounds, 
 Tlioii mart'st thine enemies shake,.as if tlie world 
 Were feverous, and did tremble. 
 
 ' ilte-eriter Marcius, bleeding, assaulted by the 
 enerny. 
 ■\Sul. Look, sir. 
 
 Lart. ''^''» Marcius : 
 
 Lets letch him off, or make remain alike. 
 
 {They fight, and all enter the city. ) 
 
 Scene V.— Within the Toiim. A Street. 
 Enter certain Romans, with spoils 
 
 1 7?()/H. This will I carry to Rome. 
 
 2 Ku7n. And I this. , ,. r i 
 
 3 Rum. A murrain on't ! T took this for silver. 
 
 I Alarum still continues ajar ojf.) 
 
 Enter Marcius atidTnhs Lartius, tvith a 
 trumpet. 
 "Mnr.. See here these movers, that do prize their 
 hours 
 At a crack'd drachm ! Cushions, leaden spoons. 
 Irons ofa doit, doublets that hangmen would 
 Bury withrthose that wore them, these base slaves, 
 lire vet tJie fight be done, pack up :— Down with 
 them.— 1''"" •— 
 
 And hark, what noise tlie general makes !-To 
 There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufutius, 
 Piercing our Romans : Then, valiant Titus, take 
 C' nvenient numbers to make good the city ; 
 Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste 
 To help Cominius. ^ , , j, . 
 
 Lart. Worthy sir, thon bleed st ; 
 
 Thy exercise hath been too violent for 
 A second course of fight. 
 
 Mar. , Sir, praise nie not : 
 
 My work hath not yet warm'd me : l-are you well. 
 The blood I drop is rather physical 
 Than dangerous to me : To Aufidius thus 
 I will appear, and fight. 
 
 Lart. Now the fair goddess, tortune. 
 
 Fall deep in love with thee ; and her great charms 
 Misguide thy opposer's .swords I Bold gentleman, 
 Prosperity be thy page! _, ^ . , , 
 
 Mar. Thy friend no less 
 
 Than those she placeth highestl So, farewell. 
 
 Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius \—lExit Marcius. 
 Go, souRd thy trumpet in the market-place ; 
 Call thither all the officers of the town, 
 Where tliey shall know our mind : Away. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScENB VL— Near the Camp cf Cominius. 
 Enter Cominius and Force^g retreating. 
 Com. Breathe you. my friends; well fought : we 
 ar-e come oft' 
 Like Romaos, neither foolish in our stands. 
 
 Nor cowardly in retire : Believe me, sirs. 
 We shall be cliaig"d again. Whiles we have stmck. 
 By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard 
 The charges of our fj lends : — The Roman gods 
 Lead their successes as we wi.'*h our own ; 
 That both our jjawtrs, with smiling iro»ts er.cooiv 
 tering. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 May give you thankful sacrifice ! — Thy news ? 
 
 Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued, 
 And given to J^artius and to Marcius battle : 
 I saw our party to their trenches driven. 
 And then I came away. 
 
 Com. Though thou speak'st Irnth, 
 
 Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long is't 
 
 Mess. Above an hour, my lord [jince? 
 
 C'o>K. ''I'isnota mile ; briefly we hoard tlieir drums; 
 How could'st thou in a mile confound an hour, 
 And bring thy news so late? 
 
 Mess. Spies of the Voices 
 
 Held me in chase, that 1 was forc'd to wheel 
 Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, 
 Half an hour since brought ray report. 
 
 Entet Marcius. 
 
 Com. Who's yonder. 
 
 That does appear as he were flay'd ? O gods! 
 He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have 
 Before-time seen hira thus. 
 
 Mar. Come I too late ? 
 
 Cotn. The shepherd knows not thunder from a 
 tabor. 
 More than I know the sound of Marcius's tongue 
 From every meaner man's. 
 
 Mar. Come I too late ? 
 
 Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, 
 But mantled in your own. 
 
 Mar. O ! let me clip you 
 
 In arms as sound, as when I woo'd ; in nciut 
 As merry, as when our nuptial day was done. 
 And tapsrs burn'd to bedwaid. 
 
 Corn. Flower of warriors, 
 
 How is't with Titus Lartius ? 
 
 Mar. As with a man busied about decrees ; 
 Condemning some to death, and some to exile ; 
 Ransoming hiui, or pitying, threat'ning the other; 
 Holding Corioli in the name ol'Rome, 
 Even lilie a fawning greyhound in the leash, 
 To let him slip at will. 
 
 Com. Where is that slave, 
 
 Which told me they had beat you to your trem-ii' s ? 
 Where is he? Call hjm hither. 
 
 Mar Let him alone, 
 
 He did inform the truth : But , for our genlhiMPn. 
 The common file, (A plague ! Tribunes fur them ! ) 
 The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did bud},e 
 From rascals worse than thsy. 
 , Com. But how prevail'd you f 
 
 Mar. Will thf time serve to tell ? I do not think- 
 Where is the enemy ? Are you lords o'the fir-id'' 
 If not, why cease you till you are so ? 
 
 Cotn. Marcius, 
 
 We have at disadvantage fought, and did 
 Retire, to win our purpose. [s'\de 
 
 Mar. How lies their battle ? K,now you on which 
 They have plac'd their men of trust? 
 
 Com. As I guess, M;irciu9, 
 
 Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates, 
 Of their best tru.st : o'er them Aufidius, 
 Their very heart of hope. 
 
 Mar. I do beseech you, 
 
 By all the battles wherein we have fought. 
 By the blood we have shed together, by the vows 
 We have made to endure friends, that you directly 
 Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates : 
 And that you not delay the present ; but. 
 Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts, 
 We prove this very hour. . , . , 
 
 Com. Though 1 conldtWish 
 
Scene 9. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 563 
 
 You were conclticted to a g'entle ba^h. 
 Ami li.ilmx apj/licd to you, yet dare I never 
 fJi'iiy yuui asking'; tuke your clioice of tliose 
 Ui.it hest can nid your action. 
 
 Mar. Those are they 
 
 TlKit most are \villin<,': — If any such be here, 
 (As it were sin to doulu,) that love this painting 
 vV'hfreiti you see me sinear'd ; if any fear 
 Lesser his person than an ill report; 
 Il'any think, brave deatii outweighs bad life, 
 And tiiat his country's dearer than himself, 
 Lft liini, alone, or so many, so minded, 
 Wave tiiiis, [tvaviiKj his hand) to express liis dis- 
 ■And lollow iMarcins. (position. 
 
 {Theij all shout, and wave their sivorch ; taLe 
 him up in theirarms.andcast ti/i their caps.) 
 O me, alone I Make you a sword of me ? 
 In these shews he not outward, which of yon 
 Hut is four Voices? None of yon but is 
 Able to bear against the great Aufidius 
 A shield as hard as his. A certain number, 
 rhoui;ii thanks to all, must I select: tlie rest 
 Sliali bear the business in some other fight, 
 As cause will i)e obey'd. Please you to march ; 
 And four shall quickly draw out my command, 
 W'lilcli men are best uiclin'd. 
 
 Com. March on, my fellows : 
 
 iMake good this ostentation, and you shall 
 Divide in all with ns. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V[L — The Gales of Corioli. 
 
 Titus Laktius, havinri set a guard upon Corioli, 
 (joinrj with a drum and trumpet towardCuMVtiivs 
 and Caius .Marcius, enters with a Lieutenant, 
 a parly of Soldiers, and a Scout, 
 hart. So, let the ports be guarded : keep your 
 duties. 
 As I have set them down. If f do send, despatch 
 Those cintnries to our aid ; the rest will ser\e 
 For a short holding : If we lose the field. 
 We canaut keep the town. 
 
 Lien- Fear not our care, sir. 
 
 Jjart. Hence, and siiut yonr gates upon us. — 
 Our guider, come ; to the Roman camp conduct us. 
 
 [Kxeujit. 
 
 SceneVIII. — A Field of Battle hetweenihelioman 
 and the Vulscian Camps, 
 
 Alarum. Enter Marcius rtwJ Aufidius. 
 
 Mar. I'll fight with none but thee ; for I do hate 
 Worse than a promise-breaker. [thee 
 
 Auf. We hate alike ; 
 
 Not Afric owns a serpent, T abhor 
 More than thy fame and envy : fix thy foot. 
 
 Mar. Let t!ic first bndger die the t;ther's slave. 
 And the gods doom him alter ! 
 
 Auf. If I fly, Marcius, 
 
 Halluo me like a hare. 
 
 Mar. Within these three hours, Tnllus, 
 
 Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, 
 And made wiiat work i pleas'd : ' I'is not my blood. 
 Wherein thou see'st me mask'd ; for thy revenge, 
 Wrench up thy power to the highest. 
 
 Auf. Wert thou the Hector, 
 
 That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, 
 Thou should'st not 'scape me here. — 
 
 [They fight . and certain Voices ccme to 
 the aid of Aufidius.) 
 Officious, and not valiant — you have sham'd me 
 In your condemned seconds. 
 
 [Exeunt fighting, driven in by Marcius. 
 
 Scene IX.— The Roman Camp. 
 Alarum. A retreat is sounded Flourish. Enter 
 
 at one side. Cominius and Romans ; at the other 
 
 side, Marcius, with his arm in a scarf, and 
 
 other Romans. 
 
 Com. It I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, 
 Thon'lt not believe thy deeds : hut I'll report it, 
 NVbere senators shall mingle tears with smiles ; 
 
 Where great patricians shall attend and shrn^, 
 
 I the end, admire; « here ladies shall be frighted. 
 And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dul) 
 
 Tribunes, 
 That, with the fusty plebeians, h?.te thine honours, 
 Shall say against tlieir hearts,— If e chank fhe r/ods, 
 Our Rome hath such a soldier I — 
 Yet cani'st thou to a morsel of this feast, 
 Having fully dined before. 
 
 Ettter Titus Lartius, with his power, from the 
 pursuit, 
 
 Lart. O general. 
 
 Here is the steed, we the caparison : 
 Hadst thou beheld — 
 
 Mar. Pray now, no more : my mother, 
 
 W'ho has a charter to extol her blood, 
 W hen she does praise me, grie^es me. I have done. 
 As y(ju have done ; that's what 1 can; induc'd 
 As you have been ; that's for my country : 
 He, that has but eft'ected his good will, 
 Hath overta'en mine act, 
 
 i!om. You shall not be 
 
 The grave of yonr deserving ; Rome must kno« 
 The V alue of her own : 'twere a concealment 
 Worse than a theft, no less than a tradnctment, 
 To hide your doings ; and to silence that, 
 VV hich, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, 
 Would seem but modest : 'I'herefbre, I beseech you, 
 (In sign of what yon are, not to reward 
 VV hat you have done,) before our army hear me. 
 
 Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they 
 To hear tliemselves remeraber'd. [smart 
 
 Com. Should they not. 
 
 Well might tlicy fester 'gainst ingratitude, 
 And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, 
 ^Whereof \\e have ta'en good, and good store,) of al! 
 The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and oily 
 \V^e render yon the tenth ; to be ta'en foi th 
 Before the common distribution, at 
 Your only clioice. 
 
 Mar. I thank you, general ; 
 
 But cannot make my heart consent to take 
 A bribe to pay my sword : I do refuse it; 
 And stand npon my comninn part with those 
 'J'liat have beheld the doing. 
 
 {A long fiourish. They all cry, Marcius .' 
 Marciiis! cast up their caps and lances: 
 Cominius and Lartius stand bare.) 
 
 Mar. May these same instruments, which you 
 profane, 
 Never sound more ! When drums and trumpets shall 
 r the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be* 
 Made all of false-fac'd soothing ! When steel grows 
 Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made 
 An overture for the wars! No more, I say; 
 For that I have not wasli'd my nose that bled, 
 Orfoil'd some debile wretch, — which, without note, 
 Here's many else have done, — you shout me forth 
 In acclamations hyperbolical ; 
 As if I loxed my little should be dieted 
 In I raises sauc'd with lies. 
 
 Com, Too modest are you ; 
 
 More crnel to your good report, than grateful 
 To us that gi\e you truly : ny your patience. 
 If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you 
 (Like one that means his proper harm,') in manacles. 
 Then reason safely with you. — Therefore, be it 
 
 known. 
 As to ns, to all the world, that Caius Ma«cins 
 Wears this war's garland : in token of the which 
 My noble steed, known to the camp, I give hiiri, 
 VV'ith all his trim belonging; and, from this time. 
 For what he did before Corioli, call him. 
 With all the applause and clamour of the host, 
 Caius Marcius Coriolanus. — 
 Bear the addition nobly ever ! 
 
 [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drtitns. 
 
 All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! 
 
 Cor. I will go wash ; 
 
564 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 And wliPii my face is fuir, you shall perceive 
 H'hetliHi- 1 bliisli, or no : Howbeit, I Uiaiik yon : — 
 I mean to stride your steed ; and, at all times. 
 To iinderrrest your good addition, 
 To the fairness of my power. 
 
 Com. ^o, to our tenl : 
 
 Where, ere we do repose us, we will write 
 To llome of our success. — Von, 'I'itus Lartiiis, 
 Mtist to Corioli back : send iis to Home 
 The best, with whom we may articulate, 
 For their own good, and ours. 
 
 Lnrt. I shall, my lord 
 
 Cor The pods begin to mock nie. I, that now 
 Refiis'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg 
 Of my lord general. 
 
 Co)a. Take it: 'tis yours.— What is't ? 
 
 Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, 
 At a poor man's hoiwe ; he ns'd me kindly • 
 He cried to nie ; i saw him prisoner; 
 But then Aufidius was witiiin my view, 
 Ajd wralh o'erwiielm'd mv pity : 1 request you 
 To s've my poor host freedom. 
 
 Com. O, well beugd ! 
 
 Were he the butcher of my son, he siionld 
 Be fiee, as is the wind. Delivej- him, Titus. 
 
 Lart. Marcius, his name? 
 
 Cor. By Jupiter, forgot : — 
 
 I am weary ; yea, my memory is tir'd^- 
 Have we no wine here ? 
 
 Com. Go we to our tent ; 
 
 The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time 
 It should be look'd to : come. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene X. — The Camp of the Voices. 
 
 A flourish. Cornets. Enter TuLLUS AUFIDJUS, 
 bloody, tvith two or three Soldiers. 
 
 Aiif- The town is ta'en ! 
 
 ] Hoi. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. 
 
 All}'. Condition? — 
 I would, I were a Roman; for I cannot, 
 Beiiisf a Voice, be that I am. — Condiiionl 
 W^hrit good condition can a treaty tind 
 T'the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marciui', 
 I have fought with thee ; so often hast thou beat me ; 
 And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter 
 As often as we eat. — By the elements. 
 If e'er again I meet him beard to beard. 
 He is mine, or.l am hi.s: Mine emulation 
 Hath not that honour in't, it had ; for where 
 I thoui;lit to crusb-him in an equal force, 
 (True sword to sword,) I'll potch at him some way ; 
 Or wralh, or craft, may get him. 
 
 1 Sol. He's thedevil. 
 
 Attf. Bolder, though not so subtle ; My valour's 
 poison'd, 
 With only suffering stain by him ; for him 
 Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, 
 Being naked, sick ; nor fane,^ nor Capitol, 
 The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, 
 Embar<juements all of fury, shall lift up 
 Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
 My hate to Mareius : where.! iind iiim, were it 
 At home, upon my brother's guard, even tjiere 
 Against the liospitable canon, vvoitld I 
 Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you tothecity ; 
 Learn, how 'tis held; and what they are, thsit must 
 Be hostages for Rome. 
 
 1 Sol. WiU not. you go? 
 
 Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove : 
 I pray yon, 
 
 I'Tis south the city mills,) bring me word thith/r 
 How the world goes ; that to the pace of it 
 I ma-y spur on uiy journey. 
 
 1 SoL I shall, sir. [Exeuut. 
 
 ACT II. 
 Scene I. — Rome. A public Place 
 Enffir Menenius. Siciniu:., and Brutvs. 
 
 Men. The aagurei tells me, we shall have news 
 ts-night. 
 
 Brv. Good, or bad ? 
 
 Men. Not according to the prayer of the people , 
 for they love not Marcius. 
 
 Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. 
 
 Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love ? 
 
 Sic. The l?;nb. 
 
 Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry plebeians 
 would the noble Marcius. 
 
 Brii. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a bear. 
 
 Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a lamb. 
 'i ou two are old men ; tell me one thine that I shall 
 ask vou. 
 
 Both Trib. Well, sir. 
 
 Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that yoo 
 two liave not in abundance? 
 
 Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. 
 
 S/c. Especially, in pride. 
 
 Bru. And topping all others in boasting. 
 
 Men. This is strange now : Do you two know ho\r 
 you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o'tlie 
 right-hand file ? Do you ? 
 
 Both Trib. Why, how are we censured? 
 
 Men. Because you talk olpride now,— will you not 
 he angry ? 
 
 Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well. 
 
 Men. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little 
 thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of pa 
 tience : give your disposition the reins, and be aiu^rj 
 at your pleasures ; at the least, if you take it as n 
 pleasure to you, iu being so. You blame Marcius for 
 being proud ? 
 
 Bru. We do it not alone, sir. 
 
 3Ie}i. I know, you can do very little alone; for 
 your helps are many ; or else your actions would grow 
 wondrcHis single: your abilities are too infant-like, 
 for doing much ulone. You talk of pride; O, that 
 you could turn your eyes towards the napes of yoiir 
 necks, and make but an interior survey of your good 
 selves 1 O. that you could ! 
 
 Br?i. What theji, sir .'' 
 
 Men. Why, (hen you should discover a brace of 
 unmeriting, proud, violent, testy majjistrates, (alias, 
 tools,) as any in Rome. 
 
 Sic. Meneuius, you ar£ known well enough too. 
 
 Men. 1 am known to be a huniorous patrician, and 
 one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of 
 allaying Tyber in't; said to be something imperi'ect, 
 in favouring the first complaint; hasty, and tinder- 
 like, n|)on loo trivial motion : one that converses 
 more with the buttock of the night, than with the 
 forehead of the morning. What I think, 1 utter; and 
 spend my n\alice in my breath: Meetinj; two such 
 weais-men as you are, (I cannot call you Lycurguses) 
 it the drink you give me touch my jfalate adversely, 
 I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say, your 
 worships have delivered the matter well, wlien I find 
 the ass in compound w.th the major part of your 
 syllables : and though I nmst be content to bear with 
 those th^t say you are reverend grave men ; yet they 
 lie deadly, that tell, you have good faces. If you 
 .«ee this in the map of n)y microcosm, follow it. that 
 I am known weli.enourh too? What harm can your 
 bissoii conspe«Uiitics glean out of this character, if I 
 be known well enough too? 
 
 Bru. Come, sir, cqme, we know you well enough. 
 
 ]\Ien. Vou know neither me, yourselves, nor any 
 thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and 
 legs; you wear ouX a good wholesome ibrenoon, in 
 hf aring a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset- 
 seller; and then rejourn the controversy of three- 
 pence to a second day of audience. — When you are 
 hearing a matter between party and party, if you 
 chance to be pinched witli the cholic, you make 
 fuces like mummers; setup the bloody flag ag:nnst 
 aH patience ; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dis- 
 niiss the controversy bleecfing, the more entangled 
 b) your hearing: all the peac« you make in their 
 cause, is callrng both the parties knaves : You are 
 9 pair of strange ones. 
 
 Bru. T-onie, come, you are well understood to be 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 565 
 
 A perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary 
 bencher in the Capitol. 
 
 Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if 
 tJjfty uIirII encounter such ridiculous subjects as you 
 are. Wiien you .speak best unto the purpose, it is 
 not worth the wagging of your beards; and yonr 
 beards deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stutt" 
 9 botcher's cusliion, or to be entombed in an ass's 
 pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is 
 proiid : who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your 
 predecessors, since Deucalion ; though, peradven- 
 tiire, some of the best of them were hereditary hang, 
 ineu. Good e'en to your worships : tnore of your 
 conversation would infect my brain, being the heids- 
 nien ol'the beastly plebeians : I will be bold to take 
 my leave of you. 
 
 (Brutus and Sle'mius retire to the back of the 
 scene.) 
 
 Enter VoLUMNiA, ViRGiLiA, Valeria, §fc. 
 
 How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the mooti, 
 were slie earthly, no nobler,) whither do you follow 
 your eyes so fast? 
 
 Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius ap- 
 proaches; for the l.'.ve of Juno, let's go. 
 
 Men. Ha! RIarcius coming home? 
 
 Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius^ and with most pros- 
 peniis apj>robation. 
 
 Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank tliee : — 
 Ho'>! Marcius coming home! 
 
 Two Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. 
 
 Vol, Look, here's a letter from him: the state 
 • hath another, his wife another; and, I think, there's 
 one at home for yon. 
 
 Men. I will make my very house reel to-night; — 
 A letter for me ? 
 
 Vir. Yes, certain, there'.s a letter for you : I saw it. 
 
 Jilen. A letter for me? It gives me an estate of 
 seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip 
 at tiie physician: the most sovereign prescription in 
 Galen is but enipiricutic, and, to tins preservative, 
 of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not 
 woiu'ded ? he was wont to come home wounded. 
 
 V/r, O, no, no, no. 
 
 VuL O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. 
 
 Men. So do I too, if it be not too much : — Brings 
 'a victory in his pocket? — The wounds become him. 
 
 Vol. On's brows, Menenius: he comes the third 
 time home with the oaken garland. 
 
 Men. Has lie disciplined Aulidius soundly? 
 
 Vol. Titus Lartius writes, — they fought together, 
 but Autidius got olF. 
 
 Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him 
 tliat: an he had staid by him, I would not have been 
 so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold 
 that's in tiiem. Is tiie senate possessed of this ? 
 
 Vol. Good ladies, let's gri : — Yes, yes, yes : the 
 sftnate has letters from the general, wherein he gives 
 my son tiie whole name of the war* he hath in this 
 action outdone his former deeds doubly. 
 
 Val. In troth, there's wondrous Ihuigs spoke of 
 him. 
 
 Men. Wondrous? Ay, I warrant you, and not 
 without his true purchasing. 
 
 Vir. The gods grant tliem true! 
 
 Vol. True? pow, wow. 
 
 Men. 'I'rue ? I'll be sworn they are true : — Where 
 is he wounded ?— -God save your good worships I 
 {To the Tribunes, who come forward.) Marcius is 
 coaling home : he has more cause to be pioud. — 
 Where is he v%'ounded? 
 
 Vol. I'the siioiiider, and i'the left arm : Tiiere 
 will be large cicatrices to shew the people, when lie 
 shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse 
 of Tarquiii. seven hurts i'the body. 
 
 Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh, — 
 tliere's nine that I know. 
 
 Vol. ile had, before this last expedition, twenty- 
 five wounds upon him. 
 
 Men. Now its twenty-seven: every gash was an 
 
 enemy's grave : (a shout and floitrisk.) Hark I the 
 trum|.ets. 
 
 Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius : before him 
 He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tear.s ; 
 Death, (hat dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie ; 
 Which being advanc'd, declines ; and then men die. 
 
 A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius and 
 TiTUS Lartius ; between them, Coriolanus, 
 crowned tvilh an oaken garland; ivith Captains, 
 Soldiers, and a Herald. 
 
 Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did tight 
 Within Corioli's gates: where he hath won. 
 With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these 
 In honour follows, Coriolanns : — 
 Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus ! 
 
 (Flourish.} 
 
 All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! 
 
 Cor. No more of this, it does ofiend my heart; 
 Pray now, no more. 
 
 Com. Look, sir, your mother, — 
 
 Cor. 01 
 
 You have, I know, petition'd all the gods 
 For my prosperity. (Kneels.} 
 
 Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up ; 
 
 My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and 
 By deed-achieving honour newly nani'd. 
 What is it ? Coriolanus, must I call thee ? 
 But O, thy wife— 
 
 Cor. My gracious silence, hail ! 
 
 Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coliin'd 
 
 home. 
 That weep'st to .see my triumph ? Ah, my dear. 
 Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, 
 And mothers that lack sons. 
 
 Men. Now the gods crown thee ! 
 
 Cor. And live you yet? — O my sweet lady, par- 
 don. (To Valeria.) 
 
 Vol. I know not where to turn : — O welcome 
 home ; 
 And welcome, general ; — And you are welcome all. 
 
 Men. A hundred thousand welcomes: I could 
 weep. 
 And I could laugh ; I am light, and heavy : Wel- 
 come : 
 A curse begin at very root of his heart. 
 That is not glad to see thee !— You are three, 
 That Rome should dote on : ytt, by the faith of men. 
 We have some old crab-trees here at home, that 
 
 will not 
 Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors : 
 We call a nettle, but a nettle ; and 
 The faults of fools, but folly. 
 
 Com. Ever right. 
 
 Cor. Menenius, ever, ever. 
 
 Her. Give way there, and goon. 
 
 Cor. Your hand, and yours : 
 
 (To his wife and mothir.) 
 Ere in our own house I do shade my head, 
 The good patricians must be visited ; 
 From whom 1 have receiv'd not only greetings. 
 But with them change of honours. 
 
 Vol. I have liv'd 
 
 To see inherited my very wishes. 
 And the buildings of my fancy : only there 
 Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not, but 
 Our Rome will cast upon thee. 
 
 Cor. Know, good mother» 
 
 r had rather be their servant in my way, 
 Tlian yway with them in theirs. 
 
 Com. On, to the Capitol. 
 
 [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. 
 The Tribunes remain, 
 
 Bru. .411 tongues speak of him, and the bleared 
 sights 
 Are spectacled to see him : Your prattling nurse 
 Into a rapture lets her baby cry, 
 While she chats him : the kitchen tnalkin pins 
 Her richest lockraiu 'bout her reechy neck. 
 
566 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Clamoering the walls to eye liiin: Stalls, bulks, 
 
 wiudows, 
 Are stnother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hois'd 
 With variable complexions; all agreeing 
 fn earnestness to see him : seld -shown nameus 
 Do press among the popular throngs, and puff 
 To win a vulgar station : our veild dames 
 Commit the wau of white and damask in 
 Their nicely-gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil 
 Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother. 
 As if that whatsoever god, who leads him. 
 Were silly crept into his human powers. 
 And gave him graceful posture. 
 
 Sic. On the sudden, 
 
 ( varraut him consul. 
 
 Jim. Then »ar office may, 
 
 Duriufj his power, go sleep. 
 
 Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours 
 From where he should begin, and end ; but will 
 Lose (liose that he hath won. 
 Bni. In that there's comfort. 
 
 Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we 
 stand, 
 Hut they, upon their ancient malice, will 
 Forget, witli the least cause, these his new honours ; 
 Which that he'll give them, make as little question 
 As he is proud to do't. 
 
 Bnt. 1 heard him swear. 
 
 Were he to stand for consul, never would he 
 Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put 
 The n:ipless vesture of humility; 
 Nor shewing (as the manner is) his wounds 
 To the people, beg their stinking breaths. 
 Sic. 'Tis right. 
 
 Bni. It was his word : O, he would miss it, rather 
 Than carry it, but by the suit o'the gentry to him, 
 And the desire of the nobles. 
 
 Sic, I wish no better. 
 
 Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it 
 In execution. 
 Bni. 'Tis most like, he will. 
 
 Sic. It shall be to him tiien, as our good wills ; 
 A sure destruction. 
 
 Bm, So it must fall out 
 
 To him, or our authorities. For an end, 
 We must suggest the people, iu what hatred 
 He still hath held them : that to his power, he 
 
 would 
 Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and 
 Dispropeilied their freedoms : holding tiiem. 
 In liuman action and capacity, 
 Of no more soul, nor fitness ior the world, 
 Than camels in their war; who have tiieir provand 
 Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows 
 For sinking under them. 
 
 Sic. This, as you say, suggested 
 
 At some time when his soaring insolence 
 Shall teacii the people, (whicii time siiall not want. 
 If he be put upou't: and that's as easy, 
 As to set dogs on sheep,) will be his fire 
 To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze 
 Shall darken him for ever. 
 
 Enter a Messemjer. 
 
 Bru. What's the matter ? 
 
 Mess. Yon are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis 
 thought, 
 That Marcius shall be consul ; I have seen 
 The dumb men throng to see him, and tiie blind 
 To hear him speak . The matrons flung their gloves. 
 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
 Upon him as he passed : the nobles bended 
 As to Jo\e's statue : and the commons made 
 A shower, and thunder, with tlieir caps, and shouts ; 
 I never saw the like. 
 
 Bru. Let's to the Capitol, 
 
 And carry with us ears and eyes for the time. 
 But hearts for the event. 
 
 Sic. Have with you. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene l\.— The same. The Capitol. 
 
 Enter two Officers, to lay cnshions, 
 
 1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here ; Huw 
 many stand for consulships :" 
 
 2 Off. 'J'hree, they say : but 'tis thought of every 
 one, Coriolanus will carry it. 
 
 1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance 
 proud, and loves not the common people. 
 
 2 Off. 'Faith, there have been many great men 
 that liave flattered the people, who ne'er loved 
 them; and there be many that they have loved, they 
 know not wherefore : so that, if they love they know 
 not why, they hate upon no better ground: There- 
 fore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they 
 love or hate him, manifests the true knowledge he 
 has in their disposition ; and, out of his noble care- 
 lessness, let's them plainly see't. 
 
 1 Off. If he did not care whether he had their 
 love, or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them 
 neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hale with 
 greater devotion than they can render it him ; and 
 leaves notlnng undone, that may fully discover him 
 their opposite. Now, to seem to atl'tct the malice 
 and displeasure of the people, is as bad as that which 
 lie dislikes, to flatter them for their love. 
 
 2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his country: 
 And Ins ascent is not by such easy degrees as those, 
 who, having been sujiple and courteous to the people, 
 bonnetted, without any fuither deed to heave then* 
 at all into their estimation and report; but he hath 
 so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions 
 in their hearts, th:it for their tongues to be silent, 
 and not confess so much, weiea kind of ingrateful 
 injury; to report otherwise, were a malice, that, 
 giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and re- 
 buke from every ear that heard it. 
 
 1 Off. No more of him; he is a worthy man 
 Miike way, they are coming. 
 
 A Sennet. Enter, jvith Victors bejore them, CoMl- 
 Mus the Consul, Menenius, Coriolanus, many 
 other Senators, SiciNius and Urutus. The 
 Senators take their places ; the Tribunes take 
 theirs also by thetnselves. 
 
 Men. Having determind of the Voices, and 
 To send tor Titus Lartius, it remains. 
 As the main pc-iut of this our after-meeting. 
 To gratify his noble service, that [yon. 
 
 Hath thus stood for his country: Therefore, please 
 Most reverend and grave elders, to desire 
 The present consul, and last general 
 In our well-found successes, to report 
 A little of that worthy work perlorm'd 
 I5y Cains Marcius Coriolanus ; vvhom 
 We meet here, both to thank, and to remember 
 With honours like himself. 
 
 \ Sen. Speak, gn6d Cominius: 
 
 Leave nothing out for length, and make us think. 
 Rather our state's defective for requital, 
 Than we to stretch it out Masters o'the people. 
 We do request your kindest ears ; and, after, 
 Vour loving motion toward the common body'. 
 To yield what passes here. 
 
 Sic. We are convenied 
 
 Upon a pleasing treaty ; and have hearts 
 inclinable to honour and advance 
 Tlie theme of our assembly. 
 
 Bru. Which the rather 
 
 We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember 
 A kinder value of the people, than 
 He hath hereto priz'd them at. ^ 
 
 Men. 'i'hat's off, that's off; 
 
 I would you rather had been silent : Please yoo 
 To hear Cominius speak ? 
 
 Bru. Most willingly : 
 
 But yet my caution vyas more pertinent. 
 Than the rebuke you give it. 
 
 Men. He loves your people.; 
 
 But tie him not to be their bedfellow. — 
 
Scene 8. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 m'^ 
 
 Worthy Cominiiis, speak. — Nay, keep your place. 
 {Coriolanus rises, and offers to go away.) 
 
 « Sen. Sit, Coriolanus; never siiame to hear 
 ^Vliat you have uobly done. 
 
 Cor. Yonr honours' pardon; 
 
 I bad rather have my wounds to heal again, 
 Than hear say how I got them. 
 
 Brti. Sir, 1 liope, 
 
 My words dis-bencli'd you not. 
 
 (Jor, No, sir : yet oft, 
 
 When blows have made me stay, 1 fled from words, 
 "i'ou sootJi'd col, thereibre hurt not: But your 
 
 pcopje, 
 i love them as they weigh. 
 
 Men. Pray now, sit down. 
 
 Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head ithe 
 When the alarum was struck, than idly sit (sun. 
 To hear my nothings monster'd. [Exit. 
 
 Men. Masters o'the people, 
 
 V'our multiplying spawn how can he flatter, 
 (That's thousand to one good <:>ne,) when you now see 
 He had rather venture all his limbs for honour, 
 Than one of his ears to hear it ? — Proceed, Cominius. 
 
 Com. I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus 
 Should not be uttcr'd feebly. — It is held. 
 That valour is the cliiefest virtue, and 
 RIost dignifies the haver: if it be, 
 'I he man I speak of cannot in the world 
 Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years. 
 When 'I'arqiiin niade a head for Rome, he fought 
 Beyond the mark of others : our then .dictator, 
 Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, 
 ^Vhen with his Anwzonian chin he drove 
 The bristled lips before him : he beslrid 
 An o'er-press'<i Roman, and i'tlie consul's view 
 <Slew three opposers: Tarqiiin's self he met, 
 .And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats, 
 When he might act the wonjan in the scene. 
 Me prov'd best man-ithe field, and for his meed 
 Was brow-bnund with the oak. His pupil age 
 Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea ; 
 And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since. 
 He lurch'd all swords o'the garland. For this tast, 
 liefore and in Corioli, let me say, 
 I cannot speak Lira home; He stopp'd the fliers ; 
 And, by his rare example, made the coward 
 Turn terror into sport: as waves before 
 A vessel under sail, so men obey'd. 
 And fell below his stem : his sword (death's stamp) 
 Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot 
 He was a thing of blood, whose every motion 
 Was timed with dying cries : alone he enter'd 
 The mortal gate o'the city, which he painted 
 With shunless destiny, aidless came off. 
 And with a sudden reinforcement struck 
 Corioli, like a planet : Now all's his : 
 When by and by the dm of war 'gan [lierce 
 His ready sense ; then straight his doubled spirit 
 Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate. 
 And to the battle came he ; where he did 
 Run reeking o'er the l^ves of men, as if 
 'J'were a perpetual spoil : and, till we call'd 
 Both field and city ours, he never stood 
 'i'o ease his breast with panting. 
 
 Men. Worthy man ! 
 
 1 Seti, He cannot but with measure tit the ho- 
 'Which we devise him. [nouis 
 
 Com. Our spoils be kick'd at ; 
 
 And look'd upon things precious, as they were 
 The coinnion muck o'tlie world : he covets less 
 Than misery itsi-ll would give; rewards 
 His deeds with doing them ; and is content 
 To spend the time, to end it. 
 
 Men. He's right noble ; 
 
 Let hill) be call'd for. 
 
 I Sen. Call for Coriolanus. 
 
 OJf'. He doth appear. 
 
 Re-enter Coriolanus. 
 Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd 
 
 To make thee consul. 
 
 Cor. I do owe them still 
 
 My life, and services. 
 
 Men. It then remains, 
 
 That you do speak to the people. 
 
 Cor. I do besee.'ih yon, 
 
 Let me o'erleap that custom ; for 1 cannot 
 Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them. 
 For my wounds' sake, to give their suflVagfe : please 
 That I may pass this doing. (yon, 
 
 Sic. Sir, the people 
 
 Must have their voices ; neither will they bate 
 One jot of ceremony. 
 
 Men. Put them not to't : — 
 
 Pray you, go fit you to the custom ; and 
 'rake to you, as your predecessors have, 
 \ our honour with your form. 
 
 Cor. It is a part 
 
 That I shall blush in acting, and might well 
 Be taken from the people. 
 
 Bru. Mark you that ? 
 
 Cor. To brag unto tliem, — Thus I did, and 
 thus : — 
 Shew them the unaking scars, which I should hide. 
 As if 1 had receiv'd them for the hire 
 Of their breath only : — 
 
 Men. Do not stand upon't. — 
 
 We recommend \o you, tribunes of the people. 
 Our purpose to them ; — and to our noble consul 
 VV ish we all joy and lioiiour. 
 
 Sen. To Corinlauus come all joy and honour! 
 
 [Flourish. Then exeunt Senators. 
 
 Bru. You see how he intends to use the people. 
 
 Sic. May they perceive his intent! He, that will 
 require them. 
 As if he did contemn what he requested 
 Siiouid be in them to give. 
 
 Bru. Come, we'll inform tliem 
 
 Of our proceedings here: on the market-place, 
 I know, tiiey do attend us. _ [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. The Forum. 
 
 Enter several Citizens. 
 
 1 Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, we 
 ought not to deny him. 
 
 2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will. 
 
 3 Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it, bnt 
 it is a power that we have no power to do ; for if he 
 shew us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are 
 to put our tongues into those wounds, and speak for 
 (hem; so, if he tell ws his noble deeds, we must also 
 tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude 
 is monstrous: and for the multitude to be iiijiiate- 
 ful, were to make a monster of the multitude ; of the 
 which, we being meiiibirs, should brin? ourselves 
 to be monstrous members. 
 
 1 Cit. And to make tis no better thoii>;ht <jf, a 
 little help will serve: for once, when we stO(Kl up 
 about the corn, he himself stuck uot to call us the 
 many-headed multitude. 
 
 3 Cit. We have been called so of many; not thai 
 our heads are some brown, some black, some aubtnn, 
 some bald, but that our wits are so diversely co- 
 loined : and truly 1 think, if all our wits were to issue 
 out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, 
 south; and their consent ol' one direct way siioiild 
 be at once to all the points o'the compass. 
 
 2 Cit. 'J'hiiik you so ? Which way, do you jiidr;e, 
 my wit would fly "? 
 
 3 Cit. Nay, yonr wit will not so soon out as 
 another man's will, 'lis strongly wedged up in a 
 block head : but if it were at libeity, 'twould, sure, 
 southward. 
 
 2 Cit. Why that way? 
 
 3 Cit. 'i'o lose itself' in a fog ; where being three 
 parts melted away with rotten dews, tiie fourth 
 would return for conscience' sake, to help to get 
 thee a wife. 
 
 2 Cit. Voii are never without your tricks : — You 
 may, you may. 
 
568 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 3 Cit. Are yon all resolved to give yoor voices ? 
 But that's no mntter, the greater part carries it. \ 
 Bay, if" he would incline to the people, there was 
 never a worthier man. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus «wrf Menekius. 
 
 Here he comes, and in the gown of humility ; mark 
 his behaviour. We are not to stay altogether, hut to 
 come by liim where he stands, by ones, by twos, 
 and by threes. He's to make his requests by parti- 
 culars : wherein every one of us lias a single honour, 
 in giving him our own voices with our own tongues ; 
 therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you 
 shall go by him. 
 
 A II. Content, content. [Exeunt. 
 
 Men. O sir, you are not right: have you not 
 The worthiest men have done't ':* [known 
 
 Cor. What must I say '! — 
 
 I pray, sir, — Plague npon'tl I cannot bring 
 My tongue to such a pace: — Look, sir; — my 
 
 wounds ; — 
 I got tliem in my country's service, when 
 Some certain of your bretiiren roar'd, and ran 
 From the noise of our own drums. 
 
 Men. O me, the gods .' 
 
 You must not speak of that: you must desire them 
 To think upon you. 
 
 Cor. Think upon me ? Hang 'em I 
 
 I would they would forget me, like the virtues 
 Which our divines lose by them. 
 
 Men. You'll mar all ; 
 
 ['11 leave you: Pray you, speak to them, I pray you. 
 In wholesome manner. [Exit. 
 
 Enter two Citizens, 
 Cor. Bid them wash their faces, 
 
 And keep their teeth clean. — So, here comes a brace. 
 You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. 
 
 1 at. We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you 
 Cor. Mine own desert. [to't. 
 
 2 Cit. Your own desert ? 
 Cor. Ay, not 
 
 Mine own desire. 
 
 1 Cit. How ! not your own desire ? 
 
 Cor. No, sir : 
 'Twas never my desire yet, 
 To trouble the poor with begging. 
 
 1 Cit. You must think, if we give you any thing. 
 We hope to gain by you. (ship ? 
 
 Cor. Well then, I pray, your price o'the cunsul- 
 
 1 Cit. The price is, sir, to ask it kindly. 
 
 Cor. Kindly '! 
 
 Sir. I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to shew you, 
 Which shall be yours in private. — Your good voice, 
 What say you i [sir; 
 
 2 Cit. You shall have it, worthy sir. 
 Cor. A match, sir : 
 
 There is iu all two worthy voices begg'd : — 
 1 have your alms ; adieu. 
 
 1 Cit But this is something odd. 
 
 2 Cit. An 'twere to give again. — But 'tis no 
 
 matter. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter ttvo other Citizens. 
 
 Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune 
 of your voices, that I may be consul, 1 have here 
 the customary gown. 
 
 3 Cit. You have deserved nobly of your country, 
 and you have not deserved nobly. 
 
 (Jor. Your enigma ? 
 
 3 Cit. You have been a scourge to her enemies, 
 you have been a rod to her friends; you have not, 
 indeed, loved the common people. 
 
 Cor. You should account me the more virtuous, 
 that I have not been conmion iu tny love. I will, 
 sir, flatter my sworn brother the peo|.le, to earn a 
 dearer estimation of them ; 'tis a condition they ac- 
 count gentle : and since the wisdom of llieir choice 
 is rather to have my hat than my heart, 1 will prac- 
 tise the insinuating nod, and be off to them most 
 
 counterfeitly ; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the be- 
 witchment of some poji'ilar man, and give it boun- 
 tifully to the desires. Therefore, beseech you, i 
 may be consul. 
 
 4 Cit. We hope to find you our friend ; and 
 therefore give you o\ir voices heartily. 
 
 3 Cit. You nave received many wounds for your 
 country. 
 
 Cor. I will not seal your knowledge with shewing 
 them. I will make much of your voices, and so 
 trouble you no further. 
 
 Both Cit. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily I 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Cur. Most sweet voices ! — 
 Better it is to die, better to starve. 
 Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. 
 Why in tliis wolfish gown should I stand here. 
 To beg of Hob and Dick, that do apr."ar, 
 Their needless vouches I Custom calls ii,e to't: — 
 What custom wills, in all things should we do't. 
 The dust on antique time would lie unswept. 
 And mountainous error be too highly heap'd 
 For truth to over-peer. — Rather than fool it so, 
 Let the hij;h office and the honour go 
 'I'o one that would do thus. — I am half through ; 
 The one part sufTer'd, the other will 1 do. 
 
 Enter three other Citizens. 
 
 Here come more voices. — 
 
 Your voices : for your voices I have fought ; 
 
 Watch'il for your voices: for your voices, bear 
 
 Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six 
 
 I have seen, and heard of; for yonr voices, have 
 
 l)(uie many things, some less, some more: your 
 
 Indeed. I would be consul. [voices: 
 
 5 Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go without 
 any honest man's voice. 
 
 Cit. Therefore let him he consul : The gods give 
 him joy, and make him good friend to the people ! 
 
 All. Amen, amen. — 
 God save thee noble consul! [Exeunt Citizem. 
 
 Cor. Worthy voices ! 
 
 lie enter Menenius, with Brutus and SiciNius. 
 
 Men. You have stood your limitation ; and the 
 tribunes 
 Endue you with the people's voice : Remains, 
 That, in the official marks invested, you 
 Anon do meet the senate. 
 
 Cor. Is this done ? 
 
 Sic. The custom of requests yon have disrliarg'd : 
 The people do admit you ; and are summon'd 
 To meet ancn, upon your approbation. 
 
 Cor. Where i at the senate-house ? 
 
 Sic. There, Coriolanus. 
 
 Cor, May I then change these garments ? 
 
 Sic. ^ You may, sir 
 
 Cor. That I'll straight do ; and, knowing myself ^ 
 Repair to the senate-house. [again. 
 
 Men. I'll keep you company. — Will you along? 
 
 Bru. We stay here for the people. 
 
 Sic. Fare you vvell. 
 
 [Exeunt Coriol. and Menen. 
 He has it now ; and by his looks, methinks, 
 ''i'is warm at his heart. 
 
 Bru. W^ith a proud heart he wore 
 
 His humble weeds : Will you dismiss the people ? 
 
 Be- enter Citizens. 
 
 Sic. How now, my masters? have you chose this 
 
 1 Cit, He has our voices, sir. [man ? 
 Bru. We pray the gods, he may deserve your 
 
 loves. 
 
 2 Cit. Amen, sir: To my poor unworthy notice, 
 He niofk'd us, wlien he begg'd our voices. 
 
 Cit. Certainly, 
 
 He fl'inted us downright. 
 
 1 Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not 
 
 mork us. 
 
 2 Cit. Not one amongst u.s, save yourself, but »ays. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 569 
 
 Ho iisM M.« scornfully: he should have shew'd iis 
 His raarksoC merit, wounds receiv'd for his country. 
 Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure. 
 Vit. No ; no man saw 'em. 
 
 {Several speal:) 
 3 Cit. lie said, he had wounds, wliich he coulcl 
 shew in private ; 
 And with his hat, Uiiis wavlnj;^ it in scorn, 
 I would be consul, says he : aged custom. 
 But by your voices, v:iH not so permit me ; 
 Your voices therefore : When w»j granted that. 
 Here was, — / t/iank you for your voices, — thank 
 you, — _ [voices. 
 
 Your most sweet voices : — now you have l^t your 
 I have no further ivithyou: — Was not tliis nrock- 
 ery ? 
 Sic. Why, either, you were ignorant to see't ; 
 Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness 
 I'o yield your voices? 
 
 Bru. Could you not have told him, 
 
 As you were lesson'd, — When he had no power. 
 But was a petty servant to tlie state, 
 He was your enemy ; ever spake against 
 Your liberties, and the charters that you bear 
 I'the body of the weal : and now, arriving 
 A place of potency, and sway o'the state, 
 [f he should still malignantly remain 
 Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might 
 Be curses to yourselves? You should nave said, 
 That, as his worthy deeds did claim no less 
 Than what he stood for; so his gracious nature 
 Would think upon you for your voices, and 
 Translate his malice tovvaras you into love, 
 Standing your friendly lord. 
 
 Siv. Thus to have said. 
 
 As you were fore-advis'd, had toiich'd his spirit. 
 And try'd his inclination; from him pliick'd 
 Either his giaci'Mis promise, which you might, 
 As cause had call'd you up, have lield him to; 
 Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature. 
 Which easily endures not article 
 Tying him to aught ; so uiitting him to rage. 
 You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler. 
 And pass'd him uuelected. 
 
 Bru. Did you perceive, 
 
 He did solicit you in free contempt, 
 When he did need your loves ; and do you think, 
 That his contem])t shall not be bruising to you, 
 VVhen ho hath power to crush i Why, had your bodies 
 No heart among you ? Or had you tongues, to cry 
 Against the rectorship of judgment ? 
 
 Sic. Have you. 
 
 Ere now, deny'd the asker? and, now ngain, 
 On him, tlint did not ask, but mock, bestow 
 Your su'd for tongues i 
 3 Cit. He's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet. 
 2 Cit. And will deny him: 
 I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. 
 
 1 Cit. 1 twice five hundred, and their friends to 
 piece 'em. [friends, — 
 
 Bru. Get you hence instantly ; and tell those 
 They have chose a consul, that will from them take 
 Their liber<ies ; make them of no more voice 
 Than Jop:*, tlmt are as often beat for barking. 
 As therefore kept to do so. 
 
 Sic. Let them assemble ; 
 
 And, on a snfer judgment, all revoke 
 Your ignorant election: Enforce his pride, 
 And hifl old hate unto you : besides, fort;et not 
 With what contempt he wore the huniljle weed ; 
 How in his suit he sconi'd you : but your loves. 
 Thinking upon his services, took from you 
 The aiiprehension of his present jioitauce, 
 Which giluogty, migravely he did fashion 
 After the inveterate hate lie bears you. 
 
 Bru. Lay 
 
 A fault on us, your tribunes ; that we labour'd 
 (No impediment between) but that you must 
 Cant your election on him. 
 Sic. Say, you chose him 
 
 More after our commandment, than as guided 
 By your own true affections ; and that, your minds 
 Pre-occupy'd with what you rather must do 
 Than what you should, made you against the grain 
 To voice him consul : Lay the fault on us. 
 
 Brti. Ay, spare us not. Say, we rend lectures to 
 
 How youngly he began to serve his country. 
 How long continued : and what stock he springs of, 
 The noble house o'the JVlarcians; from whence came 
 Tlmt Ancus Marcins, Nunia's daughter's son, 
 Who, after great Hostilius, here was king: 
 01 the same house Publiiis and Quintus were, 
 That our best water brought by conduits hither; 
 And Censorimis, darling of the people. 
 And nobly nauiM so, being censor twice. 
 Was his great ancestor. 
 
 Sic. One thus descended, 
 
 That hath beside wi II in his person wrought 
 To be set lii^^h in place, we did cominend 
 To your remembrances: but you ha\e found, 
 Scaling his present bearing with his past, 
 'I'hat lie's your fixed enemy, and revoke 
 Your sudden approbation. 
 
 Bru. Say, you ne'er had done't, 
 
 (Harp on that still,) but by our" putting on : 
 And presently, when you have drawn yournamber 
 Repair to the Capitol. 
 
 Cit. We will so : almost n]\ (Several speak.) 
 Repent in their election. [Exeunt Citizens. 
 
 Bru, Let them go on ; 
 
 This mutiny were better put in hazard. 
 Than stay, past doubt, for greater : 
 If, as his nature is, he fall in rage 
 With their refusal, both observe and answer 
 Tlie vantage of his anger. 
 
 Sic. To the Capitol : 
 
 Come ; we'll be there before the stream o"the people • 
 And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own. 
 Which we have goaded onward. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. A Street. 
 Comets. Enter Coriolani;s, Menenius, Co- 
 
 MiNius, Titus Lartius, Senators, and Patri- 
 cians. 
 
 Cor. Tullus Anfidiiis then had made new head? 
 
 Lart. He had, my lord ; and that it was, which 
 Our swifter composition. [caus'd 
 
 Cor. So then the Voices stand but as at first; 
 Ready, when time shall prompt them, to niake road 
 Upon us again. 
 
 Com. They are worn, lord consul, so, 
 
 That we shall hardly in our ages see 
 Their banners wave again. 
 
 Cor. Saw you Aufidiiis? 
 
 Lar. On safeguard he came to me ; and did curse 
 Against the Voices, for they had so vilely 
 Yielded the town : he is retir'd to Antium. 
 
 Cor. Spoke he of me ? 
 
 Lart. lie did , my lord. 
 
 Cor. How? what? 
 
 Lart. How often he had met you, sword to 
 sword. 
 That, of all things upon the earth, he hated 
 Your person most : that he would pawn his fortanes 
 To hopeless restitution, so he might 
 Be call'd your vanquisher. 
 
 Cor. At Antium lives he ? 
 
 Lart. At Antium. 
 
 Cor. I \\ish, I had a cause to seek him there. 
 To oppose his hatred full. — Welcome home. 
 
 [To Lartius.] 
 
 Enter SiciNius and Brutus. 
 
 Behold! (bese are the tribunes of the people. 
 The tono;iies o'the common mouth. I do despise 
 For they do prank them iu authority, [them. 
 
 Against all noble sufic'rance. 
 
570 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Sic. Pass no further. 
 
 Cor. Ha! What is that? 
 
 Bru. It will be daugeroas to 
 
 Go en : no further. 
 
 Cor. What makes this change ? 
 
 Men. The matter? 
 
 Com. Hath he not pass'd the nobles, and the coin- 
 
 Bru. Cominius, no. [mons ? 
 
 Cor. Have I had children's voices ? 
 
 I Sen. Tribunes, give way; he shall to the mar- 
 ket-place. 
 
 Bru. The peoiile are incens'd against him. 
 
 Sic. Stoji, 
 
 Or all will fall in broil. 
 
 Cor. • Are these your herd ? — 
 
 Must tliese have voices, that can yield them now, 
 And straislit disclaim their tongues? — What are 
 your offices? [teeth? 
 
 Voii being their iioutlis, why rule you not their 
 Have you not set them on ? 
 
 Men. Be calm, be calm. 
 
 Cor. It is a purpos'd tiling, and grows by plot. 
 To curb the will of the nobility : 
 Slider it, and live with such as cannot rule. 
 Nor ever will be rul'd. 
 
 Bru. Call't not a plot : 
 
 Tiie people cry, you mock'd them ; and, of late, 
 When corn was given them gratis, yon repin'd ; 
 Scnndai'd the suppliants for the peof)le ; cail'd them 
 Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 
 
 Cor. VVhy, this was known before. 
 
 Bru. Not to them all. 
 
 Cor. Have you inform'd tliem since ? 
 
 Bru. How ! I inform them ! 
 
 Cor. You are like to do such business. 
 
 Bru. Not unlike. 
 
 Each way, to better yours. [clouds, 
 
 Cor. Why then should I be consul ? By yon 
 Let nie deserve .so ill as you, and make me 
 Your fellow-tribune. 
 
 Sic. You shew too much of that, 
 
 For which the people stir: If you will pass 
 To where you are bound, you must iiicjuire your 
 
 way. 
 Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit ; 
 Or nevt-r be so noble as a consul, 
 Nor yoke with him for tribune. 
 
 Men. Let's be calm. 
 
 Com. The people are abus'd : — Set on. — This 
 palt'ring 
 Beco'ues t<ot Rome; nor has Coriolaniis 
 Oeserv'd this so dishononrd rub, biid filsely 
 I'the plain way of his merit. 
 
 Cor. Tf-11 nie of corn ! 
 
 This was my speech, and I will speak't again ; — • 
 
 Meti. Not now, not now. 
 
 1 Sen. Not in this heat, .sir, now. 
 
 Cor. Now, as I live, I will. — .My nobler friends, 
 I crave tht-ir pardons : — 
 For the miitHble, raiik-scented many, let them 
 Regard ine as I do not flatter, and 
 Therein beh<ild themselves : I say again. 
 In sootiiing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate 
 The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, 
 Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd and 
 
 scatter'd, 
 By mingling them with us, tiie honour'd number; 
 Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
 Which tiiey have given to beggars^ 
 
 Men. Well, no more. 
 
 I Sen. No more words, we beseech you. 
 
 Cor How! no more? 
 
 As for my country I have shed niv blood, 
 Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs 
 Coin words till their decay, against those meazels, 
 XViiich we disdain should tetter us, yet sought 
 The very way to catch them. 
 
 ^ru. You speak o'the people. 
 
 As if you were a god to punish, not 
 k. man of thiir infirmity. 
 
 Sic. 'Twere well. 
 
 We let the people know't. 
 
 Men. What, what ? his chol«! ? 
 
 Cor. Choler! 
 Were I as a patient as the midnight sleep. 
 By Jo\ e, 'twould be my mind. ' 
 
 Sic. It is a mind. 
 
 That shall remain a poison where it is. 
 Not poison any furtlier. 
 
 Cor. Shall remain ! — 
 
 Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark yoo 
 His abs<ilute s/uill/ 
 
 Com. 'Twas from the canon. 
 
 Cor. Shall \ 
 
 good, but most unwise patricians, why, 
 
 Vou grave, but reckless senators, have you thus 
 
 Given Hydia iiere to choose an officer, 
 
 'I'iiat with his pt remptoiy shall, being but 
 
 The horn and noise o'the monsters, wants not spirit 
 
 To say, he'll (urn your current in a ditch. 
 
 And make your cliannel his? II' he have power. 
 
 Then vail your ignorance ; if none, awake 
 
 Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned. 
 
 Be not as common f/ols; if you me not, 
 
 Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians. 
 
 If they be senators : and they are no less. 
 
 When both your voices blended, the greatest taste 
 
 Most palates theirs. They ciioose their magistrate : 
 
 And such a one as he, who puts his shall. 
 
 His popular shall, against a graver bench 
 
 Than ever frown'd in Greece! By Jove himself, 
 
 It makes the consuls base : and my soul aches, 
 
 I'o know, when two authorities are up, 
 
 Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
 
 May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and fake 
 
 The one by the other. 
 
 Com. Well — on to the market-place 
 
 Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth 
 The corn o'tlie storehouse gratis, as twas us'd 
 Sometime in Greece, — 
 
 Men. Well, Wiell, no more of that. 
 
 Cor. (Though there the people had more abso- 
 lute power^) 
 
 1 say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed 
 The ruin of the state. 
 
 Bru. Why, shall the people give 
 
 Que, that speaks thus, their voice ? 
 
 Cor. I'll give my reasons. 
 
 More worthier than their voices. They know, the 
 
 corn 
 Was not our recompence ; resting well assur'd 
 They ne'er did service for't : Being jiress'd to the 
 
 war. 
 Even when the navel of the state was touch'd 
 They would not thread the gates : tliis kind of 
 
 seriice 
 Did not deserve corn gratis ; being i'the war, 
 Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they shew'd 
 Most valour, spoke not for them : The accusation 
 Wliich tliey have often made against tlie senate. 
 All cause unborn, could never be the nntive 
 Of our .so frank donation. W'ell, what then ? 
 How shall tills bosom multiplied dige.st 
 The senate's courtesy ? Li-t deeds,px|)ress 
 What's like to be their words : — We did request itj 
 We are the greater poll, and in true fear 
 They ijave us our demands : — Thus we debase 
 'J'he nature of our seats, and make the rabble 
 Call our caies, fears : whi. h will in time break opa 
 The locks o the senate, and bring in the crow 
 To peck the eagles. — 
 
 Men. 4 Come, enough. 
 
 Bru. Enough, with over-measure. 
 
 Cor. No. take more : 
 
 What may be sworn by, both divine and human, ' 
 Seal what I end withal !— Tliis double worship, — 
 Where one part does disdain with cause, tiie other 
 Insult without all reason ; where gentry title, wis- 
 Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no 'dom, 
 
 Of general ignorance— it must omit 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 571 
 
 Real necessitips, and give way the while 
 
 To unstable jilightness ; purpose so barr'd, it follows, 
 
 Nothing is done to purpose : Therefore, beseech 
 
 you, — 
 Voii that will be less fearful than discreet ; 
 That love the fundamental part of state, 
 More tliiui you doubt the clianire oft; that prefer 
 A noble life before a long, and wish 
 To jump a body with a dangerous physic, 
 That's sifre of death without it, — at once pluck out 
 The multitudinous tongue, let tliem not lick 
 The sweet which is their poison : your dishonour 
 Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state 
 Of that integrity which should become it; 
 Not having the power to do the good it would. 
 For the ill which doth control it. 
 
 Bnt. He has said enough. 
 
 Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall an- 
 As traitors do. [swer 
 
 Cor. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee! — 
 What should the people do with these baldHribunes ? 
 On whom depending, their obedience tails 
 To the greater bench : In a rebellion, 
 When what's not meet, but what must be, was law. 
 Then were they chosen ; in a better hour. 
 Lot what is meet, be said it must be meet. 
 And throw their power i' the dust. 
 
 Bru. JManifest treason. 
 
 Sic. This a consul ? no. 
 
 Bru. The iEdiles, ho ! — Let him be apprehended. 
 
 Sic. Go, call the people ; [Exit Brutus.] in whose 
 name, myself 
 Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator, 
 A foe to the public weal : Obey, 1 charge thee, 
 And follow to thine auswer. 
 
 Cor. Hence, old goat ! 
 
 Sen. ^ Pat. We'll surety him. 
 
 Com. Aged sir, hands off. 
 
 Cor. Hence, rotten thing, or 1 shall shake thy 
 Out of thy garments. [bones 
 
 Sic. Help, ye citizens. 
 
 Re-enter 'RKVTVSjivith the ^diles, and a rabble 
 of Citizens. 
 
 Men. On both sides more respect. 
 
 Sic. Here's he, that would 
 
 Take from you all yonr power. 
 
 Bru. Seize him, indites. 
 
 Cit. Down with him! down witii him ! 
 
 {Several speak.) 
 
 2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons ! 
 
 (They all bustle about Coriolanus.) 
 Fribiines, patricians, citizens ! — what, ho! — 
 Siciinis, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens I 
 
 Cit. Peace, peace, peace ; stay, hold, peace ! 
 
 Men. What is about to be ? — I am out of breath ; 
 Contusion's near : I cannot speak : — You, tribunes 
 To the peo, le, — Coriolanus, patience : — 
 Sj)eak, good Sicinius. 
 
 Sic. Hear rae, people , — Peace. 
 
 Cit. Let's hear our tribune: — Peace. Speak, 
 speak, speak. 
 
 Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties : 
 Marcius would have all from you ; Marcius, 
 S^'liom late you have nam'd for consul. 
 
 Men. Fy, fy, fy ! 
 
 This is the way to kindle, not to quench. 
 
 1 Sen To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat. 
 
 Sic. What is the city, but the people ? 
 
 Cit. True, 
 
 The people are the city. 
 
 Bru. By the consent of all, we were establish'd 
 The ijeople's magistrates. 
 
 Cit. You so remain. 
 
 Men. And so are like to do. 
 
 ('or. Tiiat is the way to lay the city flat; 
 To bring the roof to the foundation; 
 And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges. 
 In tieapa and piles of ruin. 
 
 Sic. This deserves death. 
 
 Bru. Or let us stand to our authority. 
 Or let us lose it : — We do here prDnoun'--e, 
 Upon the part o'the people, in whose power, 
 \Ve were elected their's, Marcius is worthy 
 Of present death. 
 
 Sic. Therefore, lay hold of him; 
 
 Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence 
 Into destruction cast him. 
 
 Bru. iEdiles, seize him ; 
 
 Cit. Yield, Marcius, yield. 
 
 Men. Hear me one word. 
 
 Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. 
 
 u¥ld. Peace, peace. [friend. 
 
 Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's 
 And temperately proceed to what you would 
 Thus violently redress. 
 
 Bru. Sir, those cold way». 
 
 That seem like prudent heljjs, are very poisonous 
 Where the disease is violent : — Lay hands upon 
 And bear him to the rock. [him, 
 
 Cor. No; I'll die here. 
 
 [Drawing his sword.) 
 There's some among you have beheld me fighting; 
 Come, trv upon yourselves what you have seen nift. 
 
 Me}i. Down with that sword; — Tribunes, witli- 
 draw a while. 
 
 Bru. Lay hands upon him. 
 
 Me/i. Help, help, Marcius! help. 
 
 You that be noble ; help him, young, and old ! 
 
 Cit. Down with him, down with him ! 
 
 {In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the j^dtle.t 
 and the people, are all beat in,) 
 
 Men. Go, get you to your house ; be gone, away. 
 All will be naught else. 
 
 2 Sen. Get you gone. 
 
 Cor. Stand fast; 
 
 We have as many friends as enemies. 
 
 Men. Shall it be put to that? 
 
 1 Sen. The gods forbid! 
 
 I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house ; 
 Leave us to cure this cause. 
 
 ' Men. For tis a sore upon us. 
 
 You cannot tent yourself: Begone, 'beseech you. 
 
 Com. Come, sir, along with us. 
 
 Cor. I would they were barbarians, (as they are 
 Though in Home litter'd,) not Romans, (as they 
 
 are not. 
 Though calv'd i' the porch of the Capitol,) — 
 
 Men. Begone : 
 
 Put not your worthy rage into your tongue ; 
 One time will owe another. 
 
 Cor. On fair ground, 
 
 I could beat forty of them. 
 
 Men. I could myself 
 
 Take up a brace of the best of them ; ye,-\, the two 
 tribunes. 
 
 Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; 
 And manhood is cali'd foolery, when it stands 
 Against a falling fabric. — Will you hence, 
 Before the tag return? whose rage duth rend 
 Like interrupted wiiters, and o'erbear 
 What they are used to bear. 
 
 Men. Pray you, be gone : 
 
 I'll try whether my old wit be in request 
 With those that have but little ; this must be patch'd 
 With cloth of any colour. 
 
 Com. Nay, come away. 
 
 [Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, and others, 
 
 1 Pat. 'i'liis man has iiiarr'd his tortuiie. 
 Men. His nature is t^o noble for the world ; 
 
 He would not flatter Neptune for his tiidtnt, 
 
 Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his 
 
 mouth : 
 What his breast forges, th;it his tongue must vent ; 
 And being angry, does forget that ever 
 He heard the name of death. {A noise within.] 
 
 Here's goodly work! 
 
 2 Pat. I would they were a b'^d ! 
 Men. I would they were in Tyber! — What the 
 
 vengeance, 
 
572 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Cotilil he not speak them fair? 
 
 Re-enter Brutus andSiciJiivs,ivilk the rabble. 
 
 S'c. Where is this viper. 
 
 That would depopulate the city, and 
 Be every man himself? 
 
 Men. You worthy tribunes, — 
 
 Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock 
 With rifjorous hands ; he hath resisted law, 
 And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 
 Than the severity of the public power, 
 Which he so sets at nought 
 
 1 Cit. He shall well know. 
 
 The noble tribunes are the people's mouths. 
 And we their hands. 
 
 Cit. He shall, sure on't. 
 
 [Several speak together.) 
 
 Men. Sir. — 
 
 Sic. Peace. 
 
 Mett. Do not cry, havock, where you should but 
 With modest warrant [hunt 
 
 Sic. Sir, how comes it, that you 
 
 Have holp to make this rescue ? 
 
 Men. Hear me speak : — 
 
 As I do know the consul's worthiness 
 So can I name his faults : — 
 
 Sic. Consul ! — what consul ? 
 
 Men. The consul Coriolanas. 
 
 Bru. He a consul ! 
 
 Cit. No. no, no, no, no. 
 
 Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good 
 people, 
 I may be heard, I'd cra\e a word or two; 
 The which shall turn you to no further harm, 
 Than so much loss of time. 
 
 Sic. Speak briefly then ; 
 
 For we are peremptory, to despatch 
 This viperous traitor: to eject him hence, 
 Were but one danger; and, to keep iiiui here, 
 Our certain death ; therefore it is decreed, 
 He dies to-night 
 
 3Ien. Now the good gods forbid, 
 
 That our renowned Rome , whose gratitude 
 'I'owards her deserved children is enroll'd 
 In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam. 
 Should now eat up her own ! 
 
 Sic. He's a disease that must be cut away. 
 
 Men. O, he's a limb, that has but a disease ; 
 Mortal, to cut it oft"; to cure it, easy. 
 What has he done to Rome, that's worthy death ? 
 Killing our enemies? The blood he hath lost, 
 (Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, 
 By many an ounce,) he droppd it lor his country : 
 And, what is left, to lose it by his country. 
 Were to us all, that do't, and suffer it, 
 A brand to the end o'the world. 
 
 Sic, This is clean kam. 
 
 Bru. Merely awry : When he did love his coun- 
 It honour'd him. [try, 
 
 Men. The service of the foot 
 
 Being once gangren'd, is not then respected 
 For what before it was ? 
 
 Bru. We'll hear no more : — 
 
 Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ; 
 Lest his infection, being of catching nature, 
 Spead further. 
 
 Men. One word more, one word. 
 
 This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find 
 The harm of nnscann'd swiftness, will, too late, 
 Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by pro- 
 Lest parties (as he is belov'd) break out, [cess ; 
 And sack great Rome with Rumans. 
 
 Bru. If it were so, — 
 
 Sic. What do ye talk ? 
 Have we not had a taste of his obedience ? 
 Our jEfliles sui'ite ? ourseUes resisted ? — Cotne : — 
 
 Men. Consider tliis;— He has been bred i'the 
 wars 
 Since he could draw a sword, and is ill schcol'd 
 In boulted language; meal and bran togrtlier- 
 
 He throws without distinction. Give me leave 
 I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him 
 Where he shall answer, by a lawful lorm, 
 (In peace) to his utmost peril. 
 
 1 Sen. Noble tribunes. 
 
 It is the humane way : the other course 
 Will prove too bloody ; and tlie end of it 
 Unknown to the beginning. 
 
 Sic. Noble Menenius, 
 
 Be you then as the people's officer : — 
 Masters, lay down your weapons. 
 
 Bru. Go not home. 
 
 Sic. Meet on the market-place: — Well attend 
 you there : 
 Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed 
 In our first way. 
 
 Men. I'll bring him to yon : — 
 
 Let nie desire your company. [To the Senators.) 
 
 He must come. 
 Or what is worst will follow. 
 
 ] Sen Pray you, let's to him. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Coriolanus's House. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus and Patricians. 
 
 Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears ; present 
 me 
 Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels, 
 Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock. 
 That the precipitation might down stretch 
 Below the beam of sight, yet will I still 
 Be thus to them. 
 
 Enter Volumnia. 
 
 1 Pat. You do the nobler. 
 
 Cor. I muse, my mother 
 Does not approve me further, who was wont 
 To call them woollen vassals, things created 
 To buy and sell with groats ; to shew bare heads 
 In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder. 
 When one but of my ordinance stood up 
 To speak of peace, or war. 1 talk of you ; 
 
 ('To Volvmnia.) 
 Why did you wish me milder ? Would you have me 
 False to my nature ? Rather say, I play 
 The man I am. 
 
 Vol. O, sir, sir, sir, 
 
 I would have had you put your power well on,. 
 Before you had worn it out 
 
 Cor. Let go. 
 
 Vol. Y'ou might have been enough the man you 
 are. 
 With striving less to be so: Lesser had been 
 The thwartings of your dispositions, if 
 You had not sliew'd them how you were dispos'd. 
 Ere they lack'd power to cross you. 
 
 Cor. Let the:n hang 
 
 Vol. Ay, and burn too. 
 
 Enter Menenius and Senators. 
 
 Men. Come, come, you have been too rongh, 
 something too rough ; 
 You must return, and mend it. 
 
 ] Sen. There's no remedy ; 
 
 Unle.ss, by not so doing, our good city 
 Cleave in the midst, and perish. 
 
 Vol. Pray be coimseld : 
 
 I have a heart as little apt as yours, 
 But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger, 
 To better vantage. 
 
 Men. Well said, noble woman; 
 
 Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that 
 The violent fit o'the time craves it as physic 
 For the whole state, I would put mine armour OD^ 
 V\'liich I can scaicely bear. 
 
 Cor. What must I do? 
 
 Men. Return to the tribunes. 
 
 Cor. Well, 
 
 Whntthen? what then? 
 
 Me?!. Uepent what yon have spolufa 
 
 Cor. For them? — I cannot do it to the god*, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 573 
 
 Must I then do't to them ? 
 
 VoL Yon are too absolute ; 
 
 Thoiigli therein yon can never be too noble, 
 But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, 
 Honour and pnlicy, like unsever'd friends, 
 I'tlie wur do grow together : Grant that, and tell 
 
 me, 
 In peace, what each of them by th'other lose, 
 'I'hat tliey combine not there. 
 
 Cor. Tush, tush ! 
 
 Jlen. A good demand. 
 
 Vol. If it be honour, in your wars, to seem 
 The same you are not, (which, for your best ends. 
 You adopt your policy,) how is it less, or worse, 
 That it shall hold companionship in peace 
 With honour, as in war; since that to both 
 It stands in like request ? 
 
 Cor, Why force you this ? 
 
 Vol. Because that now it lies you on to speak 
 To the people ; not by your own instruction. 
 Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you to, 
 But with such words that are but roted in 
 Your tongue, though but hastards, and syllables 
 Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth. 
 Now, this no more dishonours you at all, 
 Than to take in a town with gentle words, 
 Which else woidd put you to your fortune, and 
 The hazard of much blood. — 
 k would dissemble with my nature, where 
 My fortunes, and my friends, at stakfi, requir'd 
 I should do so in honour: I am in this. 
 Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; 
 And you will rather shew our general louts 
 How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon them. 
 For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard 
 Of what that want might ruin. 
 
 Men. Noble lady ! — 
 
 Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so. 
 Not what is dangerous present, but the loss 
 Of what is past. 
 
 Vol. I pr'ythee now, my son, 
 
 Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand ; 
 And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with 
 
 them,) 
 Thy knee bussing the stones, (for in such business 
 Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant. 
 More learned than their ears,) waving thy head, 
 Whicii often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
 That humble, as the ripest mulberry. 
 Now will not hold the handling: Or, say to them, 
 'I'hou art their soldier, and being bred in broils, 
 Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost conl'ess, 
 ^\'^ere fit for thee to use, as they to claim, 
 fn asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame 
 Thyself, forsooth, hereafter tiieirs, so far 
 As thou hast power, and person. 
 
 Men. This but done. 
 
 Even as she speaks, why, all their hearts were 
 
 yours ; 
 For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free 
 As words to little purpose. 
 
 Vol. Pr'ythee, now. 
 
 Go, and be rul'd : although, I know, thou had'st 
 
 rather 
 Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf. 
 Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Comiuius. 
 
 Enter Cominius. 
 
 Com I have been i'the market-place; and, sir, 
 'tis fit 
 You make strong party, or defend yourself 
 By crtlmiiess, or by absence ; all's in anger. 
 
 Men. Only fair speech. 
 
 Com. I think, 'twill serve, if he 
 
 Can thereto frame his spirit. 
 
 Vol. He must, and will : — 
 
 Pr'vthee, row, say, you will, and go about it. 
 
 Cor. Must 1 go shew them my unbarb'd sconce? 
 Musi 1 
 With my base tongue give to my noble heart 
 
 A lie, that it must bear ? Well, I will do't: 
 Y'et were there but this single plot to lose, 
 This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grinci it 
 And throw it against the wind. — 'i'o the market 
 
 place : — 
 You have put me now fo such a part, which nevei 
 I shall dischane to the life. 
 
 Com. Come, come, we'll pionipt you 
 
 Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son ; as thou hast said, 
 My praises made thee first a soldier, so, 
 I'o have my praise for tliis, perform a part 
 Thou hast not done before. 
 
 Cor. Well, I must do't: 
 
 Away, my disposition, and possess me 
 Some harlot's spirit! My tliroat of war be tiirn'd, 
 Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
 Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
 That babies lulls asleep ! The smiles of knaves 
 Tent in my cheeks; and schoolboys' tears take np 
 The glasses of my sight ! A beggar's tongue 
 Make motion through my lips ; and my ai lu'd kuees, 
 Who botv'd but in my stirrup, bend like his 
 That hath reoeiv'd an alms! — I will not do't: 
 Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth. 
 And, by my body's action, teach my mind 
 A most inherent baseness. 
 
 Vol. At thy choice then: 
 
 \yith as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
 
 Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it Irom me; 
 
 But owe thy pride thyself. 
 
 Cor. Pray, be content ; 
 
 Mother, I am going to the market-place ; 
 Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, 
 Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd 
 Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going : 
 Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul ; 
 Or never trust to what my tongue can do 
 I'the way of flattery, further. 
 
 Vol. Do your will. [Exii. 
 
 Com. Away, the tribunes do attend you: arm 
 yourself 
 To answer mildly ; for they are prepar'd 
 With accusations, as I hear, more strong 
 Than are upon you yet. 
 
 Cor. The word is, mildly: — Pray you, let us go: 
 Let them accuse me by invention, J 
 VV^ill answer in mine honour. 
 
 Men. Ay, but mildly. 
 
 Cor. Well, mildly be it then; mildly. IKveuni. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. The Forum. 
 Enter SiciNius and Brutus. 
 Eru. In this point charge him home, that he af- 
 fects 
 Tyrannical power: If he evade us there. 
 Enforce him with his envy to the people; 
 And that the spoil, got on the Antiates, 
 Was ne'er distributed. 
 
 Enter an jEdile. 
 What, will he come ? 
 
 jEd. He's coming. 
 
 Bru. How accompanied? 
 
 JEd. With old Menenius, and those senators 
 That always favour'd him. 
 
 Sic. _ Have you a catalogue 
 
 Of all the voices that we have procur'd, 
 Set down by the poll ? 
 
 jEd. I have ; 'tis ready, here. 
 
 Sic. Have you collected them by tribes ? 
 
 ■^d. I have. 
 
 Sic. Assemble presently the people hither : 
 And when they hear me say. It shall be so 
 r the riijht and strength o' the commons, be it 
 
 either 
 For death, fur fine, or banishment, then let them. 
 
m 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 If I say, fine, cry, fine; if death, cry death; 
 Insisting on the old pieroijative 
 And power i'the truth o'tlie cause. 
 
 j^fl, I shall inform them. 
 
 Bru. And when such time they have begun to cry. 
 Let them not t ease, but with a din confus'd 
 Enforce the present execution 
 Of what we chance to sentence. 
 
 A'ld. Very well. 
 
 Sic. Makctliem be stronpr, and ready for this hint, 
 When we shall hap to give't them. 
 
 Bru t»o about it. — 
 
 [Exit yEdile. 
 Put him to choler straiglit : He hath been us'd 
 Ever to coiiqu%r, and to have his worth 
 Of contradiction: Being once chaf'd, he cannot 
 Be, rcin'd again to temperance ; then ho speaks 
 What's in his heart; and that is there, which looks 
 \Vith us to break his neck. 
 
 Enter Couiolanus, Menenius, Cominius, 
 Senators, and Patricians, 
 
 Sic. Well, here he conies. 
 
 Men. Calmly, 1 do beseech you. 
 
 Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for tne poorest piece 
 Will bear the knave by the volume. — The honour'd 
 
 gods 
 Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice 
 Supplied with worthy men ! jilant love among us ! 
 Thiong our large temples with the shews of peace. 
 And not our streets with war ! 
 
 1 Sen. Amen, amen. 
 
 Meti. A noble wish. 
 
 Re-enter jSSdile, ivith Citizens. 
 
 Sic. Draw near, ye people. [say. 
 
 JRd. List to your tribunes; audience: Peace, I 
 
 Cor. First, hear me speak. 
 
 Both Tri. Well, say.— Peace, ho. 
 
 Cor. Shall I be charg'd no further than- this pre- 
 Must all determine here ? [sent ? 
 
 Sic. I do demand, 
 
 If you submit vou to the people's voices, 
 Allow their officers, and are content 
 To suifer lawful censure for such faults 
 As shall be prov'd upon you? 
 
 Cor. I am content. 
 
 Men. Lo, citizens, he says, he is content. 
 The warlike service he has done, consider : 
 Think on the wounds his body bears, which shew 
 Like graves i'the holy churchyard. 
 
 Cor. ."scratches with briars, 
 
 Scars to move laughter only. 
 
 3Ien. Consider further. 
 
 That when he speaks not like a citizen. 
 You find him like a soldier: Do not take 
 His rougher accents for malicious sound.y, 
 But, as I say, such as become a soldier, 
 Rather than envy you. 
 
 Com. Well, well, no more. 
 
 Cor. What is the matter. 
 That being pass'd for consul with full voice, 
 I am so dishonour'd, that the very hour 
 You take it off again ? 
 
 Sic. Answer to us. 
 
 Cor. Say then : 'tis true, I ought so. 
 
 Sic.We charge you, that you have contriv'd to take 
 From Rome all sea.son'd office, and to wind 
 Yourself into a power tyrannical ; 
 For which, yon are a traitor to the people. 
 
 Cor. How ! Traitor ! 
 
 Men. Nay; temperately: Your promise. 
 
 Cor. The fires i'the lowest hell fold in the people ! 
 Call me their traitor ! — Thou injurious tribune ! 
 Within thine eyes sat twenty tiiousand deaths, 
 In thv hands cliitch'd as many millions, in 
 Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say. 
 Thou best, unto thee, with a voice as free 
 As I do pray the gods. 
 
 Sic. Mark you this, people ? 
 
 Cit. To the rock with him ; to the rock with lilni 
 
 Sic. Peace. • 
 
 We need "not put new matter to his charge : 
 What you have .seen him do, and heard him speak, 
 Beating yourolficers, cursing your.selves. 
 Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying 
 Those whose great power must try him ; even thia. 
 So criminal, and in such capital kind, 
 Deserves the cxtremest death. 
 
 Bru. But since he hath 
 
 Serv'd well for Rome, — 
 
 Cor, What, do you prate of^ervice? 
 
 lira, I talk of that, that know it. 
 
 Coj: You ? 
 
 Men. Is this 
 
 The promise that you made your mother .'' 
 
 Com. Know, 
 
 I pray you, — 
 
 Cor. I'll know no further ; 
 
 Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death. 
 Vagabond exile, flaving ; Pent to linger 
 But with a grain a day, I would not buy 
 Their mercy at the price of one fair word ; 
 Nor check my courage for what they can give. 
 To hav't with sajing. Good morrow. 
 
 Sic. For that he has 
 
 (As much as in him lies) from time to time 
 Envied against the people, seeking means 
 To pluck away their power ; as now at last 
 Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence 
 Of Jreaded justice, but on the ministers 
 That do distribute it ; in the name o'the people. 
 And it) the power of us the tribunes, we. 
 Even from this instant, banish him our city ; 
 In peril o! prtcipitatien 
 From oil' the rock Turpeian, never more 
 To enter our Rome gates: 1' the people's name, 
 1 sav, it shall be so. 
 
 Cit. It sliall be so. 
 
 It shall be so; let him away: he's banish'd 
 Arid so it shall be. [friends : — 
 
 Com. Hear me, my masters, and my commi/u 
 
 Sic. He's senteuc'd : no more hearing. 
 
 Com. Let me speak ; 
 
 I have been consul, and can sliew from Rome 
 Her enemies' marks upon me I do love 
 Rly country's good, with a respect more tender. 
 More holy and prolbund, tlian mine own life, 
 My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase. 
 And treasure of uiy loins- then if I would 
 Speak that — 
 
 Sic. We know your drift; Speak wlv\t? 
 
 Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is 
 banish'd, 
 As enemy to the people, and his country: 
 It shall be so. 
 
 Cit. It shall be so, it shall be so. 
 
 Cor. You common cry of curs ! whose breath I ha* ' 
 As reek o'the rotten fens, whose loves I priae 
 As the dead carcases of unburied men 
 That do corrupt my air, 1 banish you ; 
 And here remain with your uncertainty ! 
 Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! 
 Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes. 
 Fan yoQ into despair ! Have the power still 
 To banish your defenders ; till, at length, 
 Your ignorance, (which finds not, till it feels,) 
 Making not reservation of yourselves, 
 (Still your own foes,) deliver you, as most 
 Abated captives, to some nation 
 That won you without blows ! Despising, 
 For you, the city, thus I turn my back : 
 There is a world elsewhere. 
 
 [Exeunt Coriolanus, Cominius, Menenius, 
 Senators^ and Patricians. 
 
 Md. The people's enemy is gone, is gone ! 
 
 Cit. Our enemy's banish'd ! he is gone ' Hco ! hoo ! 
 [The people shout, and throw up th^ir caps. 
 
 Sic. Go. see liim out al gates, and follow bim. 
 As he hath ibllow'd you, with all despite ; . 
 
Act TV. Scene 2. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 575 
 
 (live him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard 
 Attend us tliroiisli the city. [come; — 
 
 Cit. Come, come, let us see him out at gates; 
 The gods preserve our noble tribunes ! — Come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — T/ie same. Before a Gate of the City. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Vxroilia, Mene- 
 NIUS, CoMiNiUS, atid several young Patricians. 
 
 Cor. Come, leave your tears ; a brief farewell : — 
 the beast 
 With many heads butts me away. — Nay, mother, 
 Where is your ancient courage ? you were us'd 
 To say, extremity was the trier of spirits ; 
 That common cliances common men could bear; 
 That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike 
 Shewed mastership in floating: fortune's blows. 
 When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 
 
 craves 
 A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me 
 With precepts, that would make in\ incible 
 The heart that conn'd them. 
 
 Vir. O heavens ! O heavens ! 
 
 Cor. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman,— 
 
 Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in 
 And occupations perish ! iRome, 
 
 Cor. What, what, what ! 
 
 I shall be lov'd, when I am lack'd. Nay, mother. 
 Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, 
 If you had Ijeen the wife of Hercules, 
 Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd 
 Your husband so much sweat. — Cominius, 
 Droop not ; adieu : — Farewell, my wife ! my mother ! 
 I'll do well yet. — Thou old and true Menenius, 
 Thy tears are Salter than a younger man's. 
 And venomous to thine eyes. — My sometime general, 
 I have seen tiiee stern, and thou hast oft beiield 
 Heart-hard'ning spectacles ; tell these sad women, 
 'Tis fond (o wail inevitable strokes. 
 As 'lis to laugh at them. — My mother, you wot well, 
 My hazards still have been your solace : and 
 Believ't not lightly, (though I go alone 
 Like to a lonely dragon, that liis fen 
 Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen,) your son 
 Will, or exceed the common, or be caught 
 With cautelous baits and practice. 
 
 Vol. My first son. 
 
 Whither wilt thou go ? Take good Cominius 
 With thee a-whi!e : Determine on some course, 
 More than a wild exposure to each chance 
 That starts i'tlie way before thee. 
 
 Cor. O the gods ! 
 
 Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee 
 Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st hear of us, 
 And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth 
 A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send 
 O'er the vast world, to seek a single man : 
 And lose advantage, which dotli ever cool 
 I'the absence of the needer. 
 
 Cor. Fare ye well : — 
 
 Thou hast years upon thee ; and thou art too full 
 Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one 
 That's yet unbruis'd : bi ing me but out at gate. — 
 Come, my sweet wife, my dearf st mother, and 
 My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, 
 Bid me f ireweli, and smile. I pray you, come. 
 While I remain above the ground, you shall 
 Hear from me still; and never of me aught 
 But what is like me formerly. 
 
 Men. riiat's worthily 
 
 As any ear can hear. — Come, let's not weep. — 
 If I could shake otF but one seven years 
 From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, 
 I'd with thee every loot. 
 
 4Jor. Give me thy hand : — 
 
 Gome. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Street near tin Gate. 
 Enter SiciNius, Brutus, and an jEdile. 
 Sic. Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no 
 further. — 
 The nobility are vex'd, who, we see, have sided 
 In his behalf. 
 
 Bru. Now we have shewn our power. 
 
 Let us seem humbler after it i.s done, 
 'I'han when it was a doing. 
 
 Sic. Bid them home; 
 
 Say, their great enemy is gone, and they 
 Stand in their ancient strength. 
 
 Bru. Dismiss them home. 
 
 [Exit jEdile 
 
 Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, «««/ Menenius. 
 Here comes his mother. 
 
 Sic. Let's not meet her. 
 
 Bru. Why? 
 
 Sic. They say, she's mad. 
 ^ Bru. They have ta'en note of ns : 
 
 Keep on your way. [o'tlie gods 
 
 Vol. O, you're well met: The hoarded plague 
 Requite your love. 
 
 Men. Peace, peace ; be not so loud. 
 
 Vol. If that I could for weeping.you should hear, — 
 Nay, and shall hear some. — Will you be none ? 
 
 [ToBndm.) 
 
 Vir. You sliall stay too: (To Sicin.) I would, 1 
 had the power 
 To say so to my husband. 
 
 Sic. Are you mankind? 
 
 Vol. Ay, fool; Is that a shame? — Note but thi» 
 fool.— 
 Was not a man my father? Hadst thou f ix'ship 
 To banish him that struck more blows for Rome, 
 Than thou hast spokeA words ? ' 
 
 Sic. O blessed heavens! 
 
 Vol^ More noble blows, than ever thou wise 
 words ; [go :— 
 
 And for Rome's good. — I'll tell thee what ; — Yet 
 Nay, but thou shalt stay too: — 1 would my son 
 Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, 
 His good sword in his hand. 
 
 Sic. What then ? 
 
 Vir. What then? 
 
 He'd make an end of thy posterity. 
 
 Vol. Bastards, and all. — 
 Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome I 
 
 Men. Come, come, peace. 
 
 Sic. I would he had continu'd to his country. 
 As he began; and not unknit himself 
 The noble knot he rahde; 
 
 Bru. I would he had. 
 
 Vol. I would he had"/ 'Twas yon inceus'd thfr 
 rabble ; 
 Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth, 
 As 1 can of those mysteries which heaven 
 Will not have earth to know. 
 
 Bru. Pray, let us go 
 
 Vol. Nov\', pray, sir, get you gone : [this : 
 
 You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear 
 As far as doth the Capitol exceed 
 The meanest house in Rome, s» far, my son, 
 (This lady's husband here, tiiis, do you see,) 
 Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. 
 
 Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you. 
 
 Sic. Why stay we to be baited 
 
 With one that wants her wits ? 
 
 Vol. Take my prayers with you. — 
 
 I would the gods had nothing else to do, 
 
 [Exeunt Tribunes. 
 But to confirm my curses! Could I meet them 
 But once a day, it would uuclog my heart 
 Of what lies heavy to't 
 
 Men. You have told them honae, 
 
 And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup 
 with me ? 
 
 Vol. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myst-'If, 
 
576 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And so shall starve wiUi reeding. — Come, let's go: 
 Leave tliis faint piiling, and lament as I do, 
 In anger, Juno lifce. Come, coiue, come. 
 Men. Fy, fy, fy. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A Hifihwat/ between Rome and Ati- 
 
 tium. Enter a Roman and a Voice, meeting. 
 
 Rom, I krtow yoii well, sir, and you know me : 
 yonr name, I tliink, is Adrian. 
 
 Vol. It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot yon. 
 * Rom. I am a Roman ; and my services are, as 
 you are, against them : Know you me yet ? 
 
 Vol. Nicaiior? No. 
 
 Rom. The same, sir. 
 
 Vol. You had more beard, when I last saw you ; 
 but yonr favour is well appeared by your tongue. 
 What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the 
 Volcian state, to find yon out there : You have 
 well saved me a day's journey. 
 
 Rom. There hath been in Rome strange insur- 
 rection : the people against the senators, patricians, 
 and nobles. 
 
 Vol. Hath been! Is it ended then ?• Our state 
 thinks not so ; thf y are in a most warlike prepara- 
 tion, and hope to come upon them in the heat of 
 tlieir division. 
 
 Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a small 
 thing would make it flame again. For the nobles 
 receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy 
 Coriolanus. that they are in a ripe aptness, to take 
 all power from the people, and to pluck from them 
 their tribimes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell 
 you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking 
 «ot. 
 
 Vol. Coriolanus banished? 
 
 Rom. Banished, sir. 
 
 Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence, 
 NJ^anor. 
 
 Rom. TTie day serves well for them now. I have 
 heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife, 
 is whpn she's fallen out with her husband. Your 
 noble Tnllus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, 
 hi.s great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no re- 
 quest of his country. 
 
 Vol. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, 
 thus accidentally to encounter you : You have ended 
 my business, and I will merrily accompany you 
 Rome. 
 
 Rom. I shall, between this and supper, tell you 
 most strange things from Rome; all tending to the 
 good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, 
 saf vou ? 
 
 Vol. A most royal one : the centurions, and their 
 charges, distinctly billetted, already in the enter- 
 tainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning. 
 
 Rem. I am .foyful to hear of their readiness, and 
 am the man, I think, that shall set them in present 
 action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad 
 of your company. 
 
 Vol. You take my part from me, sir; I have the 
 most cause to be glad of yours. 
 
 Rom. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Antium. Before Anfidius^s House. 
 
 Enter CoRioLANDS, in mean apparel, disguised 
 and muffled. 
 Cor, A goodly city is this Antinm : City, 
 'Tis 1 that made thy widows ; many an heir 
 Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars 
 Have I heard groan, and drop : then know me not ; 
 Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones. 
 
 Enter a Citizen, 
 
 fn puny battle slay me. — Save yon, sir. 
 
 Cit. And yon. 
 • Cor. Direct me, if it be your will. 
 
 Where trreat Aiifiilins lies: Is he in Antium? 
 
 Ci4. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state, 
 At his hotine this nii^ht 
 
 Car. VVhich is his house, beseech you ? 
 
 Ctt. This, here, before you. 
 
 Cor. 7 hank yon, sir; fnrewelJ. 
 
 [Exit Citiaen. 
 O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast 
 
 sworn, 
 Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart. 
 Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, 
 Are still together, who 'twin, as 'twere, in love 
 Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
 On a dissention of a doit, break out 
 To bitterest enmity : So, fellest foes, [sleep, 
 
 Whose passions and whose plots have broke their 
 To take the one tlie other, by some chance. 
 Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends, 
 And interjoin their issues. So witli me: — 
 My birth- place hate I, and my love's npnn 
 This enemy town. — I'll enter : if he slay me, 
 He does fair justice ; if he gi»e me way, 
 I'll do his country service. [Exit. 
 
 Scene Y.— The same. A Hall in Aufidius's 
 House. Music within. Enter a Servant. 
 
 1 Ser. Wine, wine, wine ! What service is here I 
 I think our fellows are asleep. [Exit. 
 
 Enter another Servant 
 
 2 Ser. Where's Cotus ? my master calls for him. — 
 Cotus ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus. 
 
 Cor. A'goodly house : The feast smells well ; but 1 
 Appear not like a guest 
 
 Re-enter the first Servant. 
 
 1 Ser. What would you have, friend? Whence 
 are you ? Here's no place for you : Pray, go to the 
 door. 
 
 Cor. I have deserv'd no better entertainment, 
 k being Coriolanus. 
 
 Re-enter second Servant. 
 
 2 Serv. Whence are yon, sir? Has the porter 
 his eyes in his head, that he gives eutrauce to such 
 companions ? Pray, get you out. 
 
 Cor. Away! 
 
 2 Serv. -Away? Get you away. 
 
 Cor. Now thou art troublesome. 
 
 2 Serv. Are you so brave ? I'll have you talked 
 with anon. 
 
 Enter a third Servant. The first meets him. 
 
 3 Serv. What fellow's this ? 
 
 1 Serv. A strange one as ever I looked on : I 
 cannot get him out o'the house : Pr'ythee, call my 
 master to him. 
 
 3 6'er»>. What have yon to do here, fellow? Pray 
 you, avoid the house. [hearth. 
 
 Cor. Let me but stand ; I will not hurt your 
 
 3 Serv. What are you ? 
 
 Cor. A gentleman. 
 
 3 Serv. A marvellous poor one. 
 
 Cor. True, so I am. 
 
 3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some 
 other station; here's iio place for you; pray you, 
 avoid : come. 
 
 Cor. Follow yonr function, go ! 
 And batten on cold bits. {Pushes him away.) 
 
 3 Serv. What, will you not? Pr'ythee, tell my 
 master what a strange guest he has here. 
 
 2 5en;. And I shall. [Exit 
 
 3 Serv. Where dwellest thou? 
 Cor. Under the canopy. 
 
 3 Serv. Under the canopy ? 
 Cor, Av. 
 
 3 S'erv. \Vhere's that ? 
 Cor. V the city of kites and crows. 
 3 S«rv. V the city of kites and crows ?— What 
 an a»s it is!— Then thou dwellest with daws tonV 
 Cor. No, I serve not thy master. [mast.'T'!' 
 
 3 f a-r»'. How, »ir! Do you meddle with my 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 577 
 
 Cot: Ay, 'tis an honester service llian to meddle 
 with tliy mistress: 
 Thou prat'st, and prat'st; serve with tliy trencher, 
 hence ! [Beats him away.) 
 
 Enter Aufidius and the second Servant. 
 
 Auf. Where is this fellow? 
 
 2 Serv. Here, sir; I'd have beaten hiin like a 
 (log-, but fir distiirbioff the lords witliin, 
 
 Auf. VVIience comestthou? What wouldestthon? 
 Tiiy name ? 
 Why speak'st not ? Speak, ?nan : What's thy name ? 
 
 Cor. If, Tiilhis, {Un?nufflinr/.) 
 
 Not yet thon know'st me, and seeini; me, dost not 
 Think me for the man I am, necessity 
 Commands me name myself. 
 
 Auf. What is thy name f 
 
 (Servants retire.) 
 
 Cor. A name ijnmiisica! to the Volcians' ears. 
 And liarsh in sound to thine. 
 
 Auf. Say, what's thy name ? 
 
 Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face 
 Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn, 
 Thou shew'st a noble ves,-iel : VV hat's thy name ? 
 
 Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown: Know'st thou 
 me yet? 
 
 Auf. I know thee not: — Thy name ? 
 
 Cor. IMy name is Cains Marcius, who hath done 
 To thee particularly, and to all the Voices, 
 Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may 
 My surname, Corioianus : The jiainfiil service. 
 The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood . 
 Shed for my thankless country, are recpiited 
 But with that surname ; a good memory, 
 And witness of the malice and displeasure 
 Which thou should'st bear me : only that name 
 The cruelty and envy of the people, [remains ; 
 
 Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
 Have all fon.Ttok me, hath devour'd the rest ; 
 And sulFer'd uie by the voice of slave to be 
 Whoop'd out of Uome. Now, this extremity 
 Hath brought me to thy hearth : Not out of hope, 
 IMistake nie not, to save my life ; for if 
 I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world 
 I would have 'voided thee: but in mere spite. 
 To be full quit of those my banishers. 
 Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast 
 A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge 
 Thine own jiarticular wrongs, and stop those mains 
 Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee 
 
 straight. 
 And make my misery serve thy turn ; so use it, 
 That my revengeful ser\ ices may prove 
 As benefits to thee ; for I will fight 
 Against my canker'd country with the spleen 
 Of all the under fiends. But if so be 
 'J'hou dar'.st not this, and that to prove more fortunes 
 Thou art lir"d, then, in a word, I also am 
 Longer to live most weary, and present 
 My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice : 
 Which not to cut, would shew thee but a fool ; 
 Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, 
 Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, 
 And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
 It be to do thee service. 
 
 Auf. O Marcius, Marcius, 
 
 Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my 
 A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter [heart 
 
 Should from yon cloud speak divine things, and say, 
 'Tis true : I'd not believe them more than thee, 
 All noble Marcius. — O, let me twine 
 Mine arms about that body, where against 
 My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, 
 And scar'd the moon with splinters ! Here I clip 
 The anvil of my sword; ana do contest 
 Ab hotly and as nobly with thy love. 
 As ever in ambitious strength I did 
 Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
 t loved the maid I married ; never man 
 Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here. 
 
 Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart. 
 Than when I first my wedded mistress saw 
 Bestride my threshold. Why, thou JMars ! I tell 
 
 thee. 
 We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose 
 Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, 
 Or lose mine arm fort. Thou hast beat me out 
 Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
 Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and lae ; 
 W^e have been down together in my sleep. 
 Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat. 
 And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Mar 
 
 cius. 
 Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that 
 Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all 
 From twelve tosevfenty; and, pouring war 
 Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, 
 Like a bold flood o'er-beat. O, come, go in. 
 And take our friendly senators by the hands; 
 Who now are here, taking their leaves of me 
 W ho am prepar'd against your territories. 
 Though not for Rome itself. 
 
 Cor. You bless me, gods ! 
 
 Atif. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt 
 
 have 
 The leading of thine own revenges, take 
 The one half of my commission ; and set down, — 
 As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st 
 Thy country's strength and weakness, — tliine own 
 
 wrys : 
 Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, 
 Or rudely visit them in parts remote, 
 To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: 
 Let me commend thee first to tho.se, that shall 
 Say, yea, to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 
 And more a friend than e'er an enemy ; 
 Yet Marcius, that was much. Your hand ! Most 
 
 welcome ! 
 
 [Exeunt Corioianus and Aufidius. 
 
 1 Serv. [Advancing.) Here's a strange alteration 1 
 
 2 Serv. By my hand.. I had thought to have 
 strucken him with a cudgel ; and yet my mind gave 
 me, his clothes made a false report of him. 
 
 1 Serv. What an arm he has I He turned me 
 about with his finger and his thumb, as one would 
 set up a top. 
 
 2 Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that there was 
 something in him: he had, sir, a kind of face, 
 methonght, — I cannot tell how to term it. 
 
 1 Serv. He had so : looking as it were, — 'Would 
 I were hanged, but I thought there was more in 
 him than I could think. 
 
 2 Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn : he is simply the 
 rarest man i'the world. 
 
 J Serv. I think, he is ; but a greater soldier than 
 he, you wot one. 
 2 Serv. Who ? my master ? 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, it's no matter for that. 
 
 2 Serv. Worth six of him. 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, not so, neither; but I take him to he 
 the greater soldier. 
 
 2 Serv. 'Faith, look you, one ca"nnot tell how to 
 say that: for the defence of a town, our general is 
 
 I Serv. Ay, and for an assault too. [excellent. 
 
 Re-enter third Servant. 
 
 3 Serv. O, slaves, I can tell y an news; news, 
 you rascals. 
 
 1. 2. Serv. What, what, what? let's partake. 
 
 3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all nations ; 
 I had as lieve be a condemned man. 
 
 ]. 2. Serv. Wherefore? wherefore? 
 
 3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack 
 our general, — Caius Marcius. 
 
 1 Serv. VVhy do you say, thwack our general ? 
 3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general ; bm 
 
 he was always good enough for him. 
 
 2 S<irv. Come, we are fellows, and friend.s; he 
 was ever too hard for him ; I have heard him say 
 so himself. 
 
 37 
 
578 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 1 flerv. He was too hard for him direcUy, to say 
 the txiith on't: before Corioli lie scotcned" him and 
 notched him hke a carbonado. 
 
 2 Serv. An he had been caimibally given, he 
 Euight have broiled and eaten him too. 
 
 i Sn>-v. Hnt. more of thy news? 
 
 .3 Serv. Why, lie is sa made on here within, as 
 if he were son and heir to Mars : set at upper end 
 of the table: no question asked him by any of the 
 senators, but they stand bald before him: Our ge- 
 neral himself malces a mistress of hiin ; sanctifies 
 himself wife's hand, and turns up the white o'the 
 eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news 
 is our general is cut i'the middle, and but one 
 half of what he was yesterday; for the other has 
 half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. 
 He'll go, he says, and sowle tlie porter of Rome 
 uates by the ears: He will mow down all before 
 him, and leave his passage polled. 
 
 2 Serv. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can 
 
 imagine, t, , , 
 
 3 Serv. Do't? he will do't: For, look you, sir, 
 he has as many friends as enemies : which friends, 
 sir, (as it were,) durst not (look you, sir,) shew 
 themselves (as we term it,) his friends, whilst he's 
 in directitude. 
 
 1 Serv. Directitude! what's that? 
 
 3 Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up 
 again, and the man in blood, they will out of their 
 burrows, like conies after rain, and revel ail with 
 him. 
 
 1 Serv. But when goes this forward ? 
 
 3 .Seri;. -To-morrow ; to-day: presently. You 
 shall have the drum struck np this afternoon : 'tis 
 as it were, a parcel of the feast, and to be executed 
 ere they wipe their lips. 
 
 2 Serv. Why, then we .shall have a stirring world 
 again. This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, in- 
 crease tailors, and breed ballad-makers. 
 
 1 Serv. Let me have war, say I ; it exceeds 
 peace, as far as day does night ; it's sprightly,waking, 
 audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apo- 
 plexy, lethargy ; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible ; 
 a getter of more bastard children, than war*.s a 
 destroyer of men. 
 
 2 Serv. 'Tis so : and as war, in some sort, may 
 be said to be a ravislier; so it cannot be denied, 
 but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. 
 
 1 Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. 
 
 3 Serv. Reason ; because they then less need 
 one another. The wars for my money. I hope to 
 see Romans as cheap as.Volcians. They are rising, 
 they are rising. 
 
 All. In, in, in, in. \ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI.— iZo we. A Public place. 
 Enter SioiNius and Brutus. 
 Sic. We hearnotof him, neither need we fear him; 
 His remedies are tame i'the present peace 
 And quietness o'the people, which before 
 Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends 
 Blush, that the world goes well ; who rather had, 
 Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold 
 Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see 
 Our tradesnxen singing in their shops, and going 
 About their functions friendly. 
 
 Enter Menenius. 
 
 Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this Me- 
 nenius ? 
 Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he : O, he is grown most kind 
 Oflate.— Kail, sir! 
 Men. Hail to you both ! 
 
 Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd, 
 But with his friends: the common-wealth doth stand; 
 And so would do, were lie more angry at it. 
 
 Men, AU'g well ; and might have been much 
 better, if 
 He could have temporiz'd. 
 
 Sic. Where is he, hear you ? 
 
 ItTen. Nay, I hear nothing ; his mother and his wife 
 Hear nothing from him. 
 
 Enter three or four Citizens. 
 
 Cit. The gods preserve you both ! 
 
 Sic. Good-e'en, our neighbours. 
 
 Bru. Good-e'en to you all, good-e'en to you all. 
 
 1 at. Ourselves, our wives, and children on our 
 knees. 
 Are bound to pray for you both. 
 
 Sic. Live, and thrive! 
 
 Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours: We wish'd 
 Coriolanus 
 Had lov'd you as we did. 
 
 Cit. Now the gods keep you ! 
 
 Both Tri. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Citizens. 
 
 Sic. This is a happier and more comely time, 
 Than when these fellows ran about t'he streets. 
 Crying, Confusion. 
 
 Bru. Cains Marcins was 
 
 A worthy officer i'the war ; but insolent, 
 O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking. 
 Self-loving, — 
 
 Sic. And affecting one sole throne, 
 
 Without assistance. 
 
 Meti. I think not so. 
 
 Sic. We should by this, to all our lamentation. 
 If he had gone forth consul, found it so. 
 
 Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome 
 Sits sate and still without him. 
 
 Enter jEdile. 
 
 JEd. Worthy tribunes, 
 
 There is a slave, whom we have put in prison. 
 Reports, — the Voices with two several powers 
 Are eiiter'd in the Roman territories ; 
 And with the deepest malice of the war 
 Destroy what lies before them. 
 
 Men. 'Tis Aufulius, 
 
 Who, hearing of our Marcins' banishment. 
 Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ; 
 Which were inshell'd, when Marcius stood for 
 
 Rome, 
 And durst not once peep out. 
 
 Sic. Come, what talk you 
 
 Of Marcius ? [be, 
 
 Bru. Go see this rnmourer whipp'd. — It cannot 
 The Voices dare break with us. 
 
 Men. Cannot be ! 
 
 We have record, that very well it can ; 
 And three examples of the like have been 
 Within my age. But reason with the fellow. 
 Before you punish him, where he heard this ; 
 Lest you should chance to whip your informatian. 
 And beat the messenger, who bids beware 
 Of what is to be dreaded. 
 
 Sic. Tell not me : 
 
 I know, this cannot be. 
 
 Bru. Not possible. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. The nobles, in great earnestness, are going 
 All to the senate-house : some news is come. 
 That turns their countenances. 
 
 Sic. 'Tis this slave ; — 
 
 Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes : — his raising ! 
 Nothing but his report ! 
 
 Mess. Yes, worthy nir. 
 
 The slave's report is seconded ; and more. 
 More fearful, is deliver'd. 
 
 Sic. What more fearful ? 
 
 Mess. It is spoke freely out of many months 
 (How probable, 1 do not know,) that Marcius, 
 Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome; 
 And vows revenge as spacious, as between 
 The young'st and oldest thing. 
 
 Sic. This is most likely! 
 
 Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may vrish 
 Good Marcius home again. 
 
 Sic. The very trick on'i. 
 
SCCXE 7. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 570 
 
 3Ien. This is unlikely : 
 He and Aiifidins can no more atone. 
 Than violentest contrariety. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 Mess. Yon are sent for to the- senate 
 A fearfnl army, led by Cains Marciiis, 
 Associated with Aiifidius, rages 
 Upon our territories ; and have already 
 O'crboriie their way, coiisiiin'd with (ire, and took 
 What lay before (hem. 
 
 Enter CoMINIUS. 
 
 Com. O, yon have made good work! 
 
 Men. What news ? what news ? 
 
 Com. Von have holp to ravish yonr own daugh- 
 ters, and 
 To melt the city leads upon yonr pates; 
 'I'o see yonr vvi\es dishononr'd to your noses ; — 
 
 Men. What's tlie iicws? what's the news? 
 
 Co)n. Vonr temples burned in their cement ; and 
 Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd 
 Into an augre's bore. 
 
 Men. Pray now, yonr news? — 
 
 You have made fair work, 1 fear me : — Pray, your 
 
 news ? 
 If Marcius should be join'd with "Volcians, — 
 
 Cotn. If! 
 
 He is their god ; he leads them like a thing 
 Made by some other deity than nature. 
 That shapes man better: and they follow him. 
 Against us brats, with no less confidence. 
 Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, 
 Or butchers killing flies. 
 
 Men. You have made good work, 
 
 Yon, and your apron-men ; you, tliat stood so much 
 Upon the voice of occupation, and 
 'l"he breath of garlick-eaters ! 
 
 Com. He will shake 
 
 Vonr Rome about yours ears. 
 
 Men. As Hercules 
 
 Did sliake down mellow fruit : You have made fair 
 
 Bru. But is this true, sir? [work! 
 
 Com. Ay ; and j'ou'll look pale 
 
 [before you find it other. All the regions 
 Do smilingly revolt; and, who resist. 
 Are only mock'd (or valiant ignorance. 
 And perish constant fools. Who ist can blame him? 
 Vonr enemie."!, and his, find something iu him. 
 
 Men. We are all undone, unless 
 Hie noble man have mercy. 
 
 Com. Who shall ask it? 
 
 Tiie tribunes cannot do't for shame ; the people 
 Deserve such pity of him, as the wolf 
 Does of the shepherds : (or his best friends, if they 
 Should say. Be yoodtoRome, they charg'd him even 
 As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, 
 And therein shew'd like enemies. 
 
 Men. 'Tis true : 
 
 If he were putting to my house the brand 
 That should consume it, 1 have not the face 
 To say. Beseech you, cease. — You have made fair 
 
 hands, 
 Von, and your crafts ! you have crafted fair ! 
 
 Com. You have brought 
 
 A trembling upon Rome, such as was never 
 So incapable of help. 
 
 Tri. Say not, we brought it. 
 
 Men. How ! Was it we ? We lov'd him ; but, 
 like beasts, 
 And cowardly nobles, gave way to your clusters, 
 Who did hoot him out o'the city. 
 
 Com. But, I fear. 
 
 They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufldius, 
 The second name of men, obeys his points. 
 As if he were his oflScer : — Desperation 
 Is all the policy, strength, and defence. 
 That Rome can make against them. 
 
 Enter a Troop of Citizens 
 
 Men, Here come the clusters. — 
 
 And is Aufldius with him ?^"You are they 
 That made the air unwholesome, when you cart 
 Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at 
 Coriolanns' exile. Now he's coming; 
 And not a hair upon a soldier's head, 
 Which will not prove a whiji ; as many coxcotiih?. 
 As you threw capss up, will he tniiible down, 
 And ))ay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; 
 If lie could burn us all into one coal, 
 W^e have deserv'd it. 
 
 CiV. 'Faith, we hear fearful news. 
 
 1 Cit. _ For mine own part. 
 When I said, banish him, I said, 'twas pity. 
 
 2 at. And so did I. 
 
 3 Cit. And so did [ ; and to say the truth, go did 
 very many of us : 'I'hat we did, we did for the best: 
 and though we willingly consented to his banish- 
 ment, yet it was against our will. 
 
 Com. You are goodly things, you voices ! 
 
 Men. You have made 
 
 Good work, you and yonr cry ! — Shall us to the 
 
 Com. O, ay; what else? [Capitol? 
 
 [Exeunt Com. and Men. 
 
 Sic. Go, masters, get you home, be not dismay'd ; 
 These are a side, that would be glad to have 
 This true, which they so seem to fear. Go home. 
 And shew no sign of fear. 
 
 1 Cit. The gods be good to us ! Come, masters, 
 let's home. I ever said, we were i'the wrong, when 
 we banish'd him. 
 
 2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home. 
 
 [Exetmt Citizens. 
 Brii. I do not like this news. 
 Sic. Nor 1. [wealth 
 
 Bru. Let's to the Capitol: — 'Would, half my 
 Would buy this for a lie 1 
 
 Sic. Piay, let us go. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — A Camp ; at a small distance from 
 Rome. 
 
 Enter AuFiDius, and his Lieutenant. 
 
 Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman ? 
 
 Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft's in him ; but 
 Y((nr soldiers use him as tiie grace 'lore meat, 
 Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; 
 And you are darken'd iu this action, sir. 
 Even by your own. 
 
 Auf. I cannot help it now ; 
 
 Unless, by using means, I lame the foot 
 Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier 
 Even to my person, than I thought he would. 
 When first I did embrace him : Vet his nature 
 In that's no changeling: and 1 must excuse 
 What caunot be amended. 
 
 Lieu. Vet I wish, sir, 
 
 il mean for your particular,) yon had not 
 oin'd in commission with him : but either 
 Had borne the action of yourself, or else 
 To him had left it solely. 
 
 Auf. I understand thee well ; and be thou sure. 
 When he shall come to his account, he knows not 
 What 1 can urge against him. Although it seems. 
 And so he thinks, and is no less apparent 
 To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. 
 And shews good husbandry for the Volcian stale, 
 Fights d( agon-like, and does achieve as soon 
 As draw his sword : yet he hath left undone 
 That, which shall break his neck, or hazard min 
 Whene'er we come to our account [Ron.e 
 
 Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry 
 Auf. All places yield to him, ere he sits down 
 And the nobility of Rome are his : 
 The senators, and patricians, love him too : 
 The tribunes are no soldiers ; and their people 
 Will be as rash in the repeal, as hastv 
 To expel him thence. 1 think, he'll be to Rome. 
 As is the osprey to tlie fish, who takes it 
 B sovereignty of nature. First he wns 
 A noble servant to them: but he coiiM not 
 Carry his honours even : vvhelher 'twas pride. 
 
580 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 Which out of daily fortune ever taints 
 
 The happy man; whether detect of judgment 
 
 To fail in the disposing of those chances 
 
 Which he was lord ol ; or wliether nature, 
 
 Not to be other than one thing, not moving 
 
 From the casque to the cushion, but commanding 
 
 peace 
 Even with the same austerity and garb 
 As he controH'd the war : but, one ot these, 
 (As he hatii spices of them all, pot all. 
 For I dare so far free him,) made him fear'd. 
 So hated, and so banish'd : But he has a merit 
 To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues 
 Lie in the interpretation of the time; 
 And power, unto itself most commendable, 
 Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair 
 'I'o extol what it hath done. 
 One fire drives out one fire : one nail, one tiail ; 
 Rights by rights fouler, strength by strengths, do fad. 
 Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thme, 
 Thou art poor st of all ; then shortly art thou mme. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 ACT. V. 
 Scene I.— Rome. A Public Place. 
 Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, 
 and others. 
 Mfn. No, I'll not go : you hear what he hath said. 
 Which was sometime hi.s general; who lov'd him 
 In a must dear particular. He call'd me, father ; 
 But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him, 
 ' A mile before his tent fall down, and kneel 
 The way into his mercy : Nay, if he coy'd 
 To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. 
 Com. He would not seem to know me. 
 Men. Do yo" hear ? 
 
 Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name : 
 I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops 
 That we have bled together. Coriolanus 
 He would not answer to : forbad all names; 
 He was a kind of nothing, titleless, 
 Till he had forg'd himself a name i' the fire 
 Of burning Rome. 
 
 Men. Why, so ; you have made good work : 
 
 A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, 
 To make coals cheap : A noble memory ! 
 
 Com. I minded him, how royal 'twas to pardon, 
 When it was less expected : He replied. 
 It was a bare petition of a state 
 To one whom they had punish'd. 
 
 Men. Very well : 
 
 Could he say less ? 
 
 Com. I olfer'd to awaken his regard 
 For his private friends : His answer to me was, 
 He could not stay to pick them in a pile 
 Of noisome, musty chalf : He said, 'twas folly. 
 For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt. 
 And still to DOse the oti'ence. 
 
 Men. For one poor grain 
 
 Or two? I am one of those ; his mother, wife. 
 His child, and thi.i brave fellow too, we are the 
 
 grains : 
 Vou are the musty chaff; and you are smelt 
 Above the moon : We must be burnt for yon. 
 
 Sic. Nay, pray, be patient : If you refuse your aid 
 In this so never-heeded help, yet do not 
 Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you 
 \V ould be your country's pleader, your good tongue 
 More than the instant army we can make, 
 Mi^iit stop our countryman. 
 Men. No ; I'll not meddle. 
 
 Sic. I pray you, go to him. 
 
 Men. What should I do ? 
 
 Bru. Only make trial what your love can do 
 For Rome, towards Marcius. 
 
 Men. Well, and say that Marcins 
 
 Return me, as Cominius is return'd. 
 Unheard ; what then ? — 
 Hut as a discontented friend, grief shot 
 With his unkindness ? Say't be so? 
 
 Sic. Yet your good will 
 
 Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure. 
 As you intended well. 
 
 Men. I'll undertake it : 
 
 I think, he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip, 
 And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts ma 
 He was not Utken well ; he had not din'd : 
 The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then 
 We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
 To g\\e or to forgive ; but, -when we have stufTd 
 'J'hese pipes and these conveyancers of our blood 
 Witii wine and feeding, we have suppler souls 
 Than in our priest-like fasts : therefore I'll watch 
 Till he be dieted to my request, [him, 
 
 And then I'll set upon him. 
 
 Bru. You know the very road into his kindness. 
 And cannot lose your way. 
 
 Me7i. Good faith, I'll prove him. 
 
 Speed how it will. I shall er? long have knowledge 
 Of my success. [Exit. 
 
 Com. He'll never hear him. 
 
 Sic. Not 
 
 Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye 
 Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury 
 The gaoler to his pity. I kneei'd before him : 
 'Twas very faintly he said. Rise ; dismiss'd nle 
 Thus, with his speechless hand : What he would do, 
 He sent in writing after me ; what he would not. 
 Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions : 
 So, that all hope is vain, 
 Unless his noble mother, and his wife ; 
 Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him 
 For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence. 
 And with our fair entreaties haste them on. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Ati advanced Post of the Volcian 
 
 Camp before Rome. The. (juard at their stations. 
 
 Enter to them Menenius. 
 
 1 G. Stay : Whence are you ? 
 
 2 O. Stand, and ^o back. 
 Men. You guard like men ; 'tis well : But, by 
 
 your leave, 
 1 am an officer of state, and come 
 To speak with Coriolanus. 
 
 1 G. From whence ? 
 
 Men. - From Rome. 
 
 \ G. You may not pass, you must return : our 
 general 
 Will no more hear from thence. 
 
 2 G. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire. 
 You'll speak with Coriolanus. (before 
 
 Men, Good my friends. 
 
 If you have heard your general talk of Rome, 
 And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks, 
 My name hath touch'd your ears : it is Menenius. 
 
 I G. Be it so ; go back : tlie virtue of your name 
 Is not here passable. 
 
 Men. I tell thee, fellow. 
 Thy general is my lover : I have been 
 The book of his good acts, whence men have read 
 His fame unparallel'd, baply, amulihed; 
 For I have ever verified my friends, 
 (Of whom he's chief,) with all the size that verity 
 VVould without lapsing suffer : nay, sometimes 
 Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, 
 I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise 
 Have, almost, stamp'd the leasing : therefore, fellow, 
 I must have leave to pass. 
 
 1 G. 'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in 
 his. behalf as you have uttered words in your own, 
 you should not pass here : no, though it were as 
 virtuous to lie, as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. 
 
 Men. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name is 
 Menenius, always factionary on the party of your 
 general. 
 
 2 G. Howsoever yon have been his liar, (as you 
 say you have,) I am one that, telling true under him, 
 must say, yon cannot pass. Therefore, go h;tck. 
 
 Men. Has he dined, canst thou teiri" tor i would 
 not speak with him till after dinner. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 581 
 
 Q. You are a Roman, are you ? 
 Men. I am as tliy general is. 
 
 1 G. Then you sliould hate Rome, as he does. 
 Can you, when you have piisli'd out your gates the 
 very defender oi' them, and, in a violent popular 
 ignorance, given your enemy your shield, tiiink to 
 front his revenges with the easy groans of old 
 Women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or 
 with the palsied intercession of such a decayed do- 
 tant as you seem to be ? Can you think to blow out 
 the intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with 
 such weak breath as this i No, you are deceived ; 
 therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your ex- 
 ecution : you are condemned, our general has sworu 
 you out of reprieve and pardon. 
 
 Men. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, 
 he would use me nitli estiuiation. ^ 
 
 2 G. Come, my captain knows you not. 
 Men. \ mean, thy general. 
 
 1 G. ]\ly general cares not for you. Back, I say, 
 go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood ; — back, 
 — that's the utmost of your having : back. 
 
 Men. Nay, but fellow, fellow, — 
 
 Enter Coriol.\nus and Aufidius. 
 
 Cor. What's the matter? 
 
 Metu Now, you companion. 111 .say an errand 
 for you ; you shall know now, that I am in estima- 
 tion ; you shall perceive, thata Jack giiardant cannot 
 office me from my son Coriolanus : guess, but by 
 my entertainment with him, if thou stand'st not i' 
 the state of hanging, or of some death more long in 
 spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now 
 presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. 
 — The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy 
 particular properity, and love thee no Worse than 
 thy old father Menenius does I O. my son! my son ! 
 thou art preparing fire for us : look thee, here's 
 water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come 
 to thee ; but being assured, none but myself could 
 move thee, I have been blown out of your gates 
 with sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and 
 thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods as- 
 suage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this 
 varlet here ; this, who, like a block, hath denied ray 
 access to tJiee. 
 
 Cor. Away! 
 
 Men. How ! away ! 
 
 Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs 
 Are servanted to others: 'J'hough I owe 
 My revenge properly, my remission lies 
 In V^olcian breasts. That we have been familiar, 
 Ingrate fbrgetfulness shall poison, rather 
 Than pity note how much. — Therefore, be gone. 
 Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than 
 Your gates against niy force. Yet, for I lov'd thee. 
 Take this along ; I writ it for thy sake, 
 
 {Gives a letter.) 
 And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, 
 I will not hear thee speak. — This man, Aufidius, 
 Was nty belov'd in Rome : yet thou behold'st — 
 
 Auf. You keep a constant temper. 
 
 [Exeunt Coriolanus and Aufidius. 
 
 1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius ? 
 
 2 G. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power : You 
 know the way home again. 
 
 1 G. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping 
 your greatness back ? 
 
 2 G. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? 
 
 Men. I neither care for the world, nor your ge- 
 neral : for such things as you, I can scarce think 
 there's any, you are so slight He that hath a will 
 to die by himself, ftars it not from another. Let 
 your general do his worst. For you, be that you 
 are, long; and your misery increase with your age ! 
 I say to you, as I was said to, Away ! [Exit. 
 
 1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him. 
 
 2 G. The worthy fellow is our general : He is the 
 rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 111.— T^e Tent of Coriolantu. 
 Enter Coriolanus, Autidius, and others. 
 
 Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow 
 Set down our host. — My partner in this action. 
 You must report to the Volcian lords, how plainly 
 IJiave borne this business. 
 
 Aiif. Only their ends 
 
 You have respected ; stopp'd your ears against 
 The general suit of Rome ; never admitted 
 A private whisper, no, not with such friends 
 That thought Iheni sure of you. 
 
 Cor. ' This last old man, 
 
 Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, 
 Lov'd me above the measure of a lather; 
 Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge 
 Was to send hiui ; lor whose old love, I have 
 (I'hongh I shew'd sourly to him,) once more offer'd 
 The first conditions, wliich they did refuse. 
 And cannot now accept, to grace him only. 
 That thought he could do more ; a very little 
 I have yielded too : Fresh embassies, and suits, 
 Nor from the state, nor private friends, hereafter 
 Will I lend eai to. — Ha ! what shout is this ? 
 
 [Shout within. 
 Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow 
 In the same time 'tis made? 1 will not. — 
 
 Enter, in mourning habits, Virgilia, Volumnia, 
 leading young Marcius, Valeria, and Attend 
 dants. 
 
 My wife comes foremost ; then the hououi'd mould 
 
 Wherein this trunk was Irain'd, and in her hand 
 
 The grand child to her blood. But, out, aftection ! 
 
 All bond and privilege of nature, break ! 
 
 Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. — 
 
 What is that curt'sy worth ? or those dove's eyes. 
 
 Which can make gods forsworn? — I m*-lt, and am not 
 
 Of stronger earth than others. — ?.iv mother bows; 
 
 As if Olympus to a molehill should 
 
 In supplication nod : and my young boy 
 
 Hath an aspect of intercession, vvhich 
 
 Great nature cries. Deny not. — Let the Voices 
 
 Plough Rome, and harrow Italy ; 111 never 
 
 Be such a gosling to obey instinct; but stand. 
 
 As if a man were' author of himself. 
 
 And knew no other kin. 
 
 Vir. My lord and husband ! 
 
 Cor. These eyes are not the same I wore in Kome. 
 
 Vir. 'I'lie sorrow, that delivers us thus chang'd. 
 Makes you think so. 
 
 Cor. Like a dull actor now, 
 
 I have forgot my part, and I am out. 
 Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh. 
 Forgive my tyranny; but do not say. 
 For that. Forgive our Romans. — O, a kiss 
 Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge ! 
 Now by the jealous queen of heaven, that ki.ss 
 I carried from thee, dear ; and my true lip 
 Hath virgin'd it e'er since. — You gods! I prate, 
 And the most notile mother of the world 
 Leave unsaluted : Sink, my knee, i' the earth ; 
 
 [Kneels.) 
 Of thy deep duty more impression shew 
 Than that of commons sons. 
 
 Vol. O, stand up bless'd! 
 
 Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, 
 I kneel before thee ; and improperly 
 Shew duty, as mistaken all the while 
 Between the child and parent. [Kneel^ 
 
 Cor. What is this ? 
 
 Your knees to me ? to your corrected son ? 
 Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach 
 Fillip the stars ; then let the mutinous wind 
 Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun ; 
 Murd'ring impossibility, to make 
 What cannot be, slight work. 
 
 Vol. Thou art my warrior; 
 
 T holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? 
 
 Cor. Tlie noble sister of l^ublicola. 
 
582 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle. 
 Thnt's curded by the frost from purest snow, 
 And hangs on Dian's temple : Dear Valeria ! 
 
 Vol. This a j)oor epitome of yours, 
 Which by the interpretation of full lime 
 May shew like all yourself. 
 
 Cor. The god of soldiers, 
 
 With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
 Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou may'st prove 
 To shame imvulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
 Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw. 
 And saving those that eye thee ! 
 
 Vol. Your knee, sirrah. 
 
 Cor. That's my brave boy. 
 
 Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, 
 
 re suitors to you. 
 
 Cor. I beseech you, peace : 
 
 Or, if you'd ask, remember this before ; 
 riie things, I iiave forswoiii to grant, may never 
 Be held by you dtnials. Do not bid me 
 Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
 Again with Rome's mechanics: — Tell me not 
 Wherein 1 seem unnatural : Desire not 
 I'd alUy my rages and revenges, with 
 Vour colder reasons. 
 
 Vol. O, no more, no more.' 
 
 You have said, you will not grant us any thing; 
 For we have nothing else to ask, but that 
 Which yon deny already : Yet we will ask: 
 That, if you fail in our request, the blame 
 May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. 
 
 Cor. Anfidius, and you Voices, mark ; for we'll 
 Hear nought from Rome in private. — Your request?- 
 
 Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our rai 
 ment, 
 And state of bodies would bewray what life 
 We have led since thy exile. Tliink with thyself, 
 How more unfortunate than all living women 
 Are we come hither: since that tliy sight, which 
 
 should 
 Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with 
 
 comforts. 
 Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and 
 
 sorrovv ; 
 JVIaking the mother, wife, and child, to see 
 The son, the husband, and the father, tearing 
 His country'.^ bowels out. And to poor we. 
 Thine enmity's most capital : thou barr'st us 
 Our prayers to the gods, which is a conitbrt 
 That all but we enjoy : For how can we, 
 Alas ! how can we for our country pray. 
 Whereto we are bound; together with thy victory, 
 Whereto we are bound '! Alack I or we must lose 
 The country, onr dear nurse ; or else thy person. 
 Our comfort in the country. We must find 
 An evident calamity, though we had 
 Our wish, which side should win : for either thou 
 Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 
 With manacles thorough our streets, or else 
 Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin : 
 And bear the palm, for having bravely shed 
 Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, 
 I purpose not to wait on fortune, till 
 These wars determine : if I cannot persuade thee 
 Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts, 
 Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 
 March to assault thy country, than to tread 
 Trust to't, tiiou shaft not,) on thy mother's womb, 
 That brought thee to this, world. 
 
 Vir. Ay, and on mine. 
 
 That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name 
 Livuig to time. 
 
 Boy. He shall not tread on me ; 
 
 I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight 
 
 Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be, 
 Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. 
 I have sat too long. {Rising.) 
 
 Vol. Nay, go not from ns thus. 
 
 If it were so, that our request did tend 
 To save the Romans, Hiereby to destroy 
 
 The Voices whom you serve, yon might condemn us 
 
 As poisonous of yoiu iionour : No; our suit 
 
 Is, that you reconcile them ; while the Voices 
 
 May say. This 7nercy we have shetv'd; the Romans, 
 
 This we received ; and »ach in either side 
 
 Oive the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd 
 
 For malcingup this peace . Thou know'st, great sou. 
 
 The end of war's uncertain ; but this certain, 
 
 That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit 
 
 Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name. 
 
 Whose repetition will be dogg'd witli curses: 
 
 Whose chronicle thus writ, — The man was noble. 
 
 But tvith his last attetnpt he wip'd it out ; 
 
 Destroy' d his country ; and his name remains 
 
 To the ensuing aye, abhorr'd. Speak to nic,soD : 
 
 Thou hast aftected the fine strains of honour. 
 
 To imitate the graces of the gods ; 
 
 To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o'the air. 
 
 And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt 
 
 That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak ? 
 
 Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man 
 
 Still to remember wrongs ? — Daughter, speak you ; 
 
 He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy : 
 
 Perhaps thy childishness will move him nwre 
 
 Than can our reasons. — There is no man in the 
 
 world 
 More bound to his mother; yet here he lets me prate. 
 Like one i'the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life 
 Shew'd thy dear mother any courtesy ; 
 When she, (poor hen !) fond of no second brood, 
 Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home, 
 Loaden with honour. Say, my request's unjust, 
 And spurn me back: But, if it be not so. 
 Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee. 
 That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which 
 To a mother's part belongs. — He turns away : 
 Down, ladies; let us shame him witii our knees. 
 'I'o his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride. 
 Than pity to our prayers. Down ; an end ; 
 This is the last; — So we will home to Rome, 
 And die among our neii;hboiirs. — Nay, behold us: 
 This boy, that cannot tell what he wonld have. 
 But kneels, and holds up hands, ibr fellowship. 
 Does reason our petition with more strength 
 Than thou hast to denyt. — Come, let us go; 
 Tliis fellow had a Volcian to his mother ; 
 His wife is in Corioli, and his child 
 Like him by chance : — Yet give us our despatch : 
 I am hush'd until our city be afire, 
 And then I'll speak a little. 
 
 Cor. _ O mother, mother ! 
 
 [Holding Volumnia by the hands, silent.) 
 What have you done ? Behold, the heavens do ope, 
 The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
 They laugh at. O my mother, mother ! Ol 
 You have won a hap|)y victory to Rome : 
 But, i'or your son, — believe it, O believe it, 
 Most dangerously, you have with him prevail'd. 
 If not most mortal to him. But, let it come : — 
 Anfidius, though I cannot make true wars, 
 I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Anfidius, 
 Were you in my stead, say, would you have heard 
 A mother less ? or granted less, Aufidius ? 
 
 Auf. I was mov'd withal. , 
 
 Cor. I dare be sworn, you were 
 
 And, sir, it is no little thing, to make 
 Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir. 
 What peace you'll make, advise me : For my part, 
 I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you ; and pray you. 
 Stand to me in this cause. — O mother ! wife ! 
 
 Auf. 1 am glad, thou hast set thy mercy and tlq^ 
 honour 
 At ditt'erenco in thee : out of that Ml work 
 Myself a former fortune. _ [Aside.) 
 
 [The Ladies malce signs to Coriolanus.) 
 
 Cor, Ay, by and by ; 
 
 {To Volumnia, Virgilia, ^c. 
 But we will drink together ; and you shall bear 
 A better witness back than words, which we. 
 On like conditions, will have counterseal'd. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 5S'6 
 
 Come, enter with iis. Ladies, you deserve 
 To have a temple built vou : all the swords 
 In ilaly, and her confederate arms, 
 Coiild not have made this peace. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene lY.—.Rome. A public Place. 
 Enter Menenius and Sicinius. 
 
 Men. See you /ond' coigu o'the Capitol ; yond' 
 conifrr-stone ? 
 
 Sic. VV'iy, what of that? 
 
 Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with 
 your littler fin!j( r, there is some hope the ladies of 
 Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. 
 lint I say, there is no hope in't ; our throats are 
 sentenced, and stay upon execution. 
 
 Sic. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter 
 the condition of a man ? 
 
 Men. Thorc is ditlorency between a grub, and 
 a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This 
 Marcius is grown from man , to dragon : he has 
 wings ; he's more than a creeping thing. 
 
 Sic. He loved his mother dearly. 
 
 Men. So did he me : and he U'l more remembers 
 iiis motlier now, than an eight year old horse. The 
 tartness of his face sours ripe grapes. When he 
 walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground 
 shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a 
 corslet with his eye ; talks like a knell, and his hum 
 is a battery. He sits in his stale, as a thing made 
 for Alexander. What he bids be done, is finished 
 with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but 
 eternity, and a heaven to throne in. 
 
 Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. 
 
 Men. I paint him in the diaracter. JVIark what 
 mercy his mother shall bring from him : There is 
 no more mercy in him, than there is milk in a male 
 tiger ; that shall our poor city find : and all this is 
 tong of vou. 
 
 Sic. The gods be good unto us.' 
 
 Men. No, in such a case the gods will not be 
 good unto us. When we banish'd him, we respect- 
 ed not them : and he, returning to break our necks, 
 they respect not us. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house ; 
 Tiie plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, 
 And iiale him up and down ; all swearing, if 
 The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, 
 They'll give him death by inches. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 Sic. NVhat's the news ? 
 
 Mess. Good news, good news; — the ladits have 
 prevail'd, 
 The Voices are dislog'd, and Marcius gone : 
 A. merrier day did never yet greet Home, 
 No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. 
 
 Sic. Friend, 
 
 Art thou certain this is true ? is it most certain ' 
 
 Mess. As certain^ as I know the sun is fire : 
 Where have you lurfc'd, that you make doubt of it ? 
 Ne'er througli an arch so hurried tlie blown tide, 
 As the recoiuforted through the gates. Why, hark 
 you ; 
 [Trumpets and hauihois sounded, and drum 
 beaten, all together. Shouting also within. 
 The trumpets, sackbiits, psalteries, and files, 
 Tambors, and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, 
 Make the sun dance. Hark you !^ {Shouting again.) 
 
 Men. ''"'s 's good news : 
 
 I will go meet the ladies. This V^oiumnia 
 Ip wnrth "I consuls, Senators, patricians, 
 A city lull ; of tribmies, such as you, 
 A sea and land fidl: Vou have pray'd well to-day ; 
 'I'his morning, for ten tliousand of yo-ir throats 
 l!d not have given a doit. Hark, liow tliey joy I 
 
 {Shouting and music.) 
 
 Sic. First, the gods bless you (or your tidings : 
 Accept my thankfulness. [next, 
 
 Mess. Sir, we have all 
 
 Great cause to give great thanks. 
 
 Sic. 'I'hey are near th« city "^ 
 
 Mess. Almost at point to enter. 
 
 Sic. We will meet thenij 
 
 And help the joy. {Going.) 
 
 Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, 
 
 Patricians, and People. They pass over thf 
 
 Stage. 
 
 1 Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome : 
 Call all your tribes together, praise the gods. 
 And make triumphant fires ; strew flowers before 
 
 them : 
 Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcins : 
 Re|ieal him with the welcome of his mother; 
 Cry, — Welcome, ladies, welcome ! — 
 
 ^4//. Welcome, ladies ! 
 
 Welcome ! {A flourish with drums and trumpets.) 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene V. — Antium. A public place. 
 Enter Tullus Aufidius, with Attendants. 
 Auf. Go fell the lords of the city, I am here 
 Deliver them this paper: having read it^ 
 Rid them repair to the market-place, where I, 
 Even in tlieirs and in the commons' oars. 
 Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse. 
 The city ports by this hath enter'd, and 
 Intends to appear before the people, hoping 
 To purge himself with words : Despatch. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants 
 
 Enter three or four Conspirators oj Aiifidiu's 
 factions. 
 
 IMost welcome ! 
 
 1 Con. How is it with our general ? 
 
 Auf. Even so. 
 
 As with a man by his own alms empoison'd. 
 And with his charity slain. 
 
 2 Con. Most noble sir. 
 If you do hold the same intent, wherein 
 You wish'd us i)arties, we'll deliver yor 
 Of your great danger. 
 
 Azif. Sir, I cannot tell : 
 
 We must proceed, as we do find the people. 
 
 3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, whilst 
 'Twixt you there's difference ; but the fall of eitiier 
 Makes the survivor heir of ail. 
 
 Auf. I know it ; 
 
 And my pretext to strike at him admits 
 A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd 
 Mine honour for his tnith : Who being so heighten'd, 
 He water'd his new plants with dews of llatle'-v 
 Seducing so my friends : and, to this end. 
 Ho bow'd his nature, never known before 
 But to be rough, unswayable, and free. 
 
 3 Con. Sir, his stoutness. 
 When he did stand for consul, which Ije lo£t, 
 By lack of stooping. 
 
 Auf. That I Would have spoke of; 
 
 Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth ; 
 Presented to my knife his throat . I took him ; 
 Made him joint-servant with me ; ga\ e him way 
 In all his own desires ; nay, let him choose 
 Out of my files, his projects to accomplish. 
 My best and freshest men ; serv'd his designments 
 In mine own person ; holp to reap the fame, 
 Which he did end all his ; and took some pride 
 To do myself this wrong ; till, at the last, 
 I seem'd his follower, not partner ; and 
 He wag'd me with his countenance, as if 
 I had been mercenary. 
 
 1 Con. So he did, my lord: 
 
 The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, 
 When he had carried Rome; and that we louk'j 
 For no less spoil, than glory, — 
 
 Auf. There was it^ 
 
 For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. 
 At a few drops of women's rheum, which are 
 As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour 
 Of our great action : Therefore shall he die. 
 
584 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 And I'll renew me In his fall. But, hark ! 
 
 {Drums and trumpets sound, tvith great 
 shouts of the people. 
 
 1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post, 
 And had no welcomes home ; but he returns. 
 Splitting the air witli noise. 
 
 2 Con. And patient fools. 
 Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear, 
 With giving him glory. 
 
 3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage. 
 Ere he express himself, or move the people 
 
 With what lie would say, let him feel your sword, 
 Which we will second. When he lies along, 
 After your way his tale prouounc'd shall bury 
 His reasons with his body. 
 
 Auf. Say no more ; 
 
 Here come the lords. 
 
 Enter the Lords of the City. 
 
 Lords. You are most welcome. 
 
 A.uf. 1 have not deserv'd it ; 
 
 But, worthy lords, liave you with heed perus'd 
 Wliit I have written to you? 
 
 Lords. We have. 
 
 1 Lord. . And grieve to hear it. 
 
 What faults he'made before the last, I think. 
 Might have found easy fines : but there to end. 
 Where he was to begin: and give away 
 The benefit of our levies, answering us 
 With our own charge; making a treaty, where 
 There was a yielding ; This admits no excuse. 
 
 Auf. lie approaches, you shall hear him. 
 
 Enter CoRiOLANUS, with drums and colours; a 
 crowd ofCitizetis tvith him. 
 Cor. Hail, lords ! I am return'd your soldier; 
 No more infected with my country's love, 
 I'han when I parted hence, but still subsisting 
 Under your great command. You are to know, 
 'I'hat prosperously I have attempted, and 
 With bloody passage led your wars, even to 
 The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought 
 
 home, 
 Do more tiian counterpoise, a full third part, 
 'I'he charges of the action. We have made peace, 
 VVith no less honour to the Antiates, 
 Than shame to the Romans : And we here deliver, 
 Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, 
 Together with the seal o' the senate what 
 We have compounded on. 
 
 Xuf. Reao it not, noo.e lords ; 
 
 But tell the traitor, in the highest degree 
 He hath abus'd your powers. 
 
 Cor. Traitor !— How now ?— 
 
 Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius. 
 
 Qg^^ Marcius ! 
 
 Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius ; Dost thou think 
 I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name 
 Coriolanus in Corioli :? — 
 You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously 
 He has betray'd your business, and given up. 
 For certain drops of salt, your city Rome 
 (I say, your city,) to his wife and mother: 
 Breaking his oath and resolution, like 
 A twist of rotten silk ; never admitting 
 Counsel o'the war; but at his nurse's tears 
 He win'd and roard away your victory ; 
 That pages blush'd at him, and men oi heart 
 Look'd wondering each at other. 
 
 Cor. Hear'st thou. Mars r 
 
 Auf. Name not the god, thou boy oi' tears, — 
 
 Vor. Ha! 
 
 Auf. No more. 
 
 Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart 
 Too great for what contains it. Boy ! O slave ! — 
 Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever 
 I was forc'fl to scold. Your judgments, my grave 
 
 lords. 
 Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion 
 (Who wears my stripes iuipress'd on him; that must 
 
 bear 
 My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrust 
 The lie unto him. 
 
 1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. 
 Cor. Cut me to pieces, Voices; men and lads. 
 
 Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False hound ! 
 If you bive writ your annals true, 'tis there 
 That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I 
 Flutter'd your voices iu Corioli : 
 Alone I did it. — Boy ! 
 
 Auf. Why, noble lords. 
 
 Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune. 
 Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 
 'Fore your own eyes and ears ? 
 • Con. Let him die for't. (Sefjernl speak at once.) 
 
 at. [Speaking promiscuously.) '1 ear him to 
 pieces, do it presently. He killed my son;— my 
 daughter ;^He killed my cousin Marcus; — he killed 
 my father. — 
 
 2 Lord. Peace, ho; — no outrage, — peace. 
 The man is noble, and his fame folds in 
 This orb o' the earth. His last oft'ence to us 
 Shall have judicious hefring. — Stand, Autidius, 
 And trouble not the peace. 
 
 Cor. O, that [ had him. 
 
 With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe. 
 To use my lawful sword ! 
 Atif. Insolent villain! 
 
 Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. 
 
 [Aiifidius and the Conspirators draw, 
 and kill Coriolanus, who falls, and 
 Aufidius stands on him.) 
 Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. 
 
 Auf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 
 
 1 Lord. O Tullns,— 
 
 2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour 
 
 will weep. 
 
 3 Lord. Tread not upon him. — Masters all, be 
 
 quiet; 
 Put up your swords. ['"age, 
 
 Atif. My lords, when yon shall know (as in this 
 Provok'd by him, you cannot,) the great danger 
 Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice 
 That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours 
 To call me to your senate, I'll deliver 
 Myself your loyal servant, or endure 
 Your heaviest censure. 
 
 1 Lord. Bear from hence his body. 
 And mourn you for him: let him be regarded 
 
 As the most noble corse, that ever herald 
 Did follow to his urn. 
 
 2 Lord. His own impatience 
 Takes from Aufidius a great part of Uaine. 
 Let's make the best of it. 
 
 Auf. My rage is gone. 
 
 And I am struck with sorrow. — 'fake iiim up: — 
 Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers ; I'll be one. — 
 Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: 
 Trail your steel pikes. — Though in this city lie 
 Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, 
 VVhich to this hour bewail the injury, 
 Yet he siiall have a noble memory. — 
 Assist. [Exeunt, bearitig the body of Coriolaftua 
 A dead marcn sounded. 
 
JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Bmtus and 
 Cassiiis is uiiiveisally ctlehratcd; but I Lave never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat 
 cold «od unart't-cting, compared with some other of Shalispeare's- plays : his adherence to the real story, and to Ui« 
 Uomikii mauuers, seems tu have impeded the natural vigour of bis genius. Joktitort. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Triumvirs after the death of 
 Julius Casar. 
 
 JULIUS CJi:SAR. 
 
 OCTAVIUS CESAR, 
 
 MARCUS ANTONIUS, 
 
 M. j^MlL. LEI'IDUS, 
 
 CICEKU, PUBLIUS, POPILIUS LENA, Senators 
 
 ftlAKCLS littUTUS, 
 
 CASSIUS, 
 
 CASCA, 
 
 TKEBONIUS, \ Conspirators against Julius 
 
 LIGARIUS, / Casar 
 
 DECIUS BRUTUS. 
 
 METE..LUSCXMBER, 
 
 CINNA. 
 
 FLAVIUS ami MARULLUS, Tribunes. 
 
 ARTEMIDOKUS, a Sophist of Cnidos. 
 
 A Sdothsuyer. 
 
 CINNA, a Poet. 
 
 AnuthfT Poet. 
 
 LUCXLIUS, TITINIUS. MESSALA, poung CATO, and 
 
 VOLUMNIUS, Friends to Brutus and Cassius. 
 VARRO, C LIT US, CLAUDIUS, STHATO, LUCIUS, 
 
 DAKDANIUS, Servants to Brutus. 
 PINDAKUS, Servant to Cassius. 
 CALPHURNIA, Wife to Casar. 
 PORTIA, Wije to Brutus 
 
 Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, etc. 
 
 Scene, — During a great part of the Play, at Rome; afterwards at Sardis; and near Philippi. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I — Rome. A Street. 
 
 Enter Flavius, Marullus, and a Rabble of 
 Citizf.ns. 
 
 Flav. Hep.ce ; liome, you idle creatures, get you 
 home ; 
 Is this a holiday? What! know you not, 
 Being mechanical, you ought not walk, 
 Upon a labouring day, witliout the sign 
 Of your proCession ? — Speak, what trade art thou ? 
 
 1 Cit. ^V'hy, sir, a carpenter. 
 
 Mar. VVHipre is thy leatlier apron, and thy rule ? 
 What dost thou with tliy best apparel on? — 
 You, sir; what trade are you ? 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I 
 am but, as you would say, a cobbler. 
 
 Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me 
 directly. 
 
 2 Cit. A trade, sir. that, I hope, I may use with 
 a safe conscience ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender 
 of bad soals. 
 
 Mar. What trade, thou knave ? thou naughty 
 knave, what trade ? 
 
 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with 
 ine : yet, it you be out, sir, I can mend you. 
 
 Mar. Whiit meanest thou by that? Mend me, 
 thou saucy fellow ? 
 
 2 Cit. W'hy, sir, cobble you. 
 
 Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thon? 
 
 2 Cit. '1^ uly, sir, all that I live by is, with the awl : 
 I meddle witli no tradesman's matters, nor women's 
 matter.s, but with a\vl. 1 am, indeed, sir, a surgeon 
 to old shoes ; when they are in great danger, [ re- 
 cover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats- 
 leather, have gone upon my handy-work. 
 
 Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day ? 
 Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get 
 myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make 
 holiday, to see Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. 
 
 Mar. Wherelore rejoice ? VVhat conquest brings 
 he home f 
 What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
 To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless 
 
 things ! 
 O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 
 Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and oft 
 Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements. 
 To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, 
 Y^our infants in your arms, and there have sat 
 The live-long-day, with patient expectation. 
 To sea great Pompey pass the streets of Rome •• 
 
 And, when you saw his chariot but appear, 
 Have you not made an universal shout, 
 "Qiat Tyber trembled underneath her banks. 
 To hear the replication of your sounds. 
 Made in her concave shores ? 
 And do you now put on your best attire ? 
 And do you now cull out a holiday ? 
 And do you now strew ilowers in his way, 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? 
 Be gone ; 
 
 Run to yo&r houses, fall upon your knees. 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
 That needs must light on this ingratitude. 
 
 Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault. 
 Assemble all the poor men of your sort; 
 Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your tears 
 Into the channel, till the lowest stream 
 Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizen*, 
 See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd ; 
 They vanish, tongue-tied in their guiltiness. 
 Go you down that way towards the Capitol; 
 This way .will I : Disrobe the images, 
 If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. 
 
 Mar. May we do so? 
 You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. 
 
 Flay. It is no matter ; let no images 
 Be huftg with Cassar's trophies. I'll about. 
 And drive away the vulgar from the strect.s: 
 So do you too, where you nerceive them thick. 
 These growing feathers, pluck'd from Caesar's wing 
 Will make him fly an oraiuary pitch ; 
 Who else would soar above the view of men, 
 And keep us all in servile tearfulness. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — T/ie same. A public Place. 
 
 Enter, in procession, with music, CiESAR ; Antony, 
 
 for the course; Calphurma, Portia, Decius, 
 
 Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca, « great 
 
 Crowd folloioing ; among them a Soothsayer. 
 
 Ctes. Calphurnia, — 
 
 Casca. Peace, ho ! Caesar speaks. {Music ceases.) 
 
 Coss. Calphurnia, — 
 
 Cal. Here, i;iy lord. 
 
 des. Stand you directly in Antonius' way. 
 When he doth run his course. — Antonius. 
 
 Ant. Csesar, my lord. 
 
 Cces. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, 
 To touch Calphurnia: tor our elders say. 
 The barren, touched in this holy cliaSe, 
 Sliake otf their steril curse. 
 
 Ant. I shall remember: 
 
 When Csesar says. Do this, it is |>erfbrm"d. ' 
 
 Cces. Set on, and leave no ceremony out. (Music.) 
 
586 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Sooth. Caesar. 
 Cas. Ha! Who calls? 
 
 Casca. Bid every noise be still : — Peace yet again. 
 
 {Music ceases.) 
 Cas. Who is it in the press, that calls on me ? 
 [ hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, 
 Cry, Caisar ; Speak ; Cajsar is tiirn'd to hear. 
 Sooth. Beware the ides of March. 
 Cees. What man is that ? 
 
 Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of 
 
 March. 
 C<ES. Set hira before me, let me see his face. 
 Cas. Fellow, come from the throng: Look upon 
 
 Caesar. 
 CtBS. What say'st thou to me now ? Speak once 
 
 again. 
 Sooth. Beware the ides of March. 
 Cas. He is a dreamer ; let us leave him : — pass. 
 
 [Senet. Exeunt all but Bru. and Cas. 
 Cas. Will you go see the order of the course ? 
 Bru. Not L 
 Cas. I pray yon, do. 
 » Bru. I am not gamesome : I do lack some part 
 Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. 
 Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires ; 
 I'll leave yoii. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: 
 I have not from your eyes that gentleness. 
 And shew of love, as I was wont to have : 
 You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand 
 Over your friend that loves you. 
 
 Bru. Cassius, 
 
 Be not deceiv'd : If I have veild my look, 
 I turn the trouble of my countenance 
 Merely upon myself. Vexed I ara, 
 Of late, with passions of some dillerence, 
 Conreijtions only proper to myself, 
 Wliich give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours: 
 But let not therefore my good triends be griev'd ; 
 (Among wliich number, Cassius, be you one ;) 
 Nor construe any further my neglect, 
 Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war. 
 Forget the shews of love to other men. 
 Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your 
 passion ; 
 By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried 
 Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. 
 Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face ? 
 
 Bru. No, Cassius: for the eye sees not itself, 
 But by reflection, by some other things. 
 
 Cas. 'Tisjiist: 
 And it is very much lamented, Brutus. 
 That you have no such niinors, as will turn 
 Your hidden worthiness into your eye. 
 That you might see your shadow. I have heard, 
 VVhere many of the best respect in Rorr>e, 
 (Except immortal Caesar,) speaking of Brutus, 
 And groaning underneath this age's yoke, 
 Have wish'd, that noble Brutus had his eyes. 
 
 Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, 
 Cassius, 
 That you would have me seek into myself 
 For that which is not in me? 
 
 Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be'prepar'd to hear : 
 And, since you know you cannot see yourself 
 So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
 VV^ill modestly discover to yourself 
 'I'hat of yourself which you yet know not of. 
 And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus;, 
 Were I a common laugher, or did use 
 To stalo with ordinary oaths my love 
 To every new protester; if you know, 
 That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, 
 And Jtfter scandal them ; or if you know. 
 That I profess myself in banqueting 
 To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. 
 
 {Flourish, and shout.) 
 Bru. What means this shouting? 1 do fear, the 
 
 people 
 Choose Caesar for their king. 
 
 Ca's. Ay, do you fear it? 
 
 Then must I think vou would not have it so. 
 
 Bru. I would not', Cassius ; yet 1 lovejiim well:— 
 But wherefore do you hold me here so long? 
 What is it that yon would impart to me if 
 If it be aught toward the general good, 
 Set honour in one eye, and death i'the other. 
 And I will look on both indifferently : 
 For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
 The name of honour more than I fear death. 
 
 Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutas, 
 As well as I do know your outward favour. 
 Well, honour is the subject of my story. — 
 I cannot tell, what you and other men 
 Think of this life ; but, for my single self, 
 I had as lief not be, as live to be 
 In awe of such a thing as I myself. 
 I was born free as Ca?sar ; so were you : 
 We both have fed as well ; and we can both 
 Endure the winter's cold, as well as he. 
 For once, upon a raw and gusty day, 
 The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores, 
 Cjesar said to nie, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
 Leap in uith me i7ito this anyry Jlood, 
 And sivim to yonder point ! — Upon the word> 
 Accoiiter'd as I was, 1 plunged in, 
 And bade him ibilow: so, indeed, he did. 
 The torrent roar'd ; and we did buflet it 
 With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside. 
 And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 
 But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, 
 Caesar cry'd. Help me, Cassius, or I sink. 
 I, as illneas, our great ancestor, 
 Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tyber 
 Did I tlie tired Caesar: Acd this man 
 Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 
 A wretched creature, and must bend his body. 
 If Caesar carelessly but r.od on him. 
 He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
 And, when the fit was on him, I did mark 
 How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake: 
 His coward lips did from their colour fly ; 
 And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world. 
 Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : 
 Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
 Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
 Alas ! it cried. Give me some drink, Tilinius, 
 As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
 A man of such a feeble temper should 
 So get the start of the majestic world. 
 And bear the palm alone. {Shout. Flourish.) 
 
 Bru. Another general shout ! 
 I do believe, that these applauses are 
 For sume new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. 
 Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow 
 world. 
 Like a Colossus ; and we petty men 
 Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
 To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 
 Men at some time are masters of their fates: 
 'i'he fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
 Hut in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
 Brutus, and Caesar : What should be in that Casarl 
 VV hy should that name be sounded more than yours ? 
 Write them together, yours is as fair a name ; 
 Sound them, it doth becouie the mouth as well; 
 Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure with them ^ 
 Brutus willstart a spirit as soon as Caesar. {Shout., 
 Now in the names oi' all the gods at once, 
 Upon what meat doth this our Ciesar ieed. 
 That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sharn'd ; 
 Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
 When went there by an age, since the great flood. 
 But it was fam'd with more than with one man r 
 When could they say, till now, that talk'd ol Rome 
 That' her wide walks encompass'd but one man'* 
 Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, 
 When there is in it but one only iiiau. 
 O ! you and I have heard our iathers say, 
 
SCENK 2. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 587 
 
 There was a Brutus once, that would have brook 'd 
 The eternal de\ il to keep his state in Rome, 
 As easily as a king. 
 
 Bru. That yon do love me, I am nothing' jealous ; 
 What you would work rae to, i ha«e some aim: 
 How 1 have thought of this, and of these times, 
 I shall recount hereafter; for this present, 
 I would not, so with love I might entreat you. 
 Be any further mov'd. What you have said, 
 I will consider ; what you have to say, 
 I will with patience hear : and find a time 
 Both meet to hear, and answer, such high things. 
 Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this ; 
 Brutus had rather be a villager. 
 Than to repute himself a son of Rome 
 Under these hard conditions as this time 
 [s like to lay upon us. 
 
 Cas. I am glad, that my weak words 
 Have struck but thus much shew of fire from Brutus. 
 
 Re-enter C^sar, and his Train. 
 
 Bru. Tlte games are done, and Ciesar is returning. 
 
 Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve ; 
 And he will, alter his sour fashion, tell you 
 What hath proceeded, worthy note, to-day. 
 
 Bru, I will do so : — But, look you, Cassius, 
 The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, 
 And all the rest look like a chidden train ; 
 Caljihurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero 
 Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes, 
 As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
 Being cross'd in conference by some senators. 
 
 Cas. Casca will tell us what thee matter is. 
 
 Cees. Antonius. 
 
 Ant. Caesar. 
 
 C(es. Let me have men about me that are fat ; 
 Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o'nigiits: 
 Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
 He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. 
 
 Ant. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerous; 
 [le is a noble Roman, and well given. 
 
 Cces. 'Would he were fatter : — But I fear him not 
 Vet, if my name were liable to fear, 
 I do not know the man 1 should avoid 
 So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 
 He is a great observer, and he looks 
 Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays. 
 As tliou dost, Antony; he hears no music: 
 Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort. 
 As if he niock'd himself, and scoru'd his spirit 
 That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. 
 SmcIi men as he be never at heart's ease, 
 Whiles tiiey behold a greafer than themselves; 
 And therefore are they very dangerous. 
 I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd. 
 Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar. 
 Rome on my right hand, for this ear is deaf. 
 And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. 
 
 [Exeunt CiP-sar and Ais Train. Casca stays 
 behind. 
 
 Casca. You puU'd me by the cloak ; Would you 
 apeak with me .'' 
 
 Bru. Ay, Casca ; tell us what hath chanc'd to day, 
 That Ciesar looks so sad '! 
 
 Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not? 
 
 Bru. I should not then ask Casca what hath 
 chanc'd. 
 
 Casca. VVhy, there was a crown offered him : and 
 being oti'ered him, he put it by with the back of his 
 hand, tliiis ; and tlien the people fell a shouting. 
 
 Bru. What was the second noise for"/ 
 
 Casca. Uliy, for that too. ^ [for? 
 
 Cas. Tliey shoiit-rd tiirice ; What was the last cry 
 
 Casca. \Vhy, for that too. 
 
 Bru. Was the crown otl'er'd him tlirite ? 
 
 Casca. Ay, marry, w ns't, and he put it by thrice, 
 every time gentler than the otner; and at every put- 
 ting by, mine honest neighbours shouted. 
 
 Cas. Who otl'eied him the crown? 
 
 Casca. VVhy, Antony. 
 
 Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 
 Casca. 1 can as well be hanged, as tell the manner 
 of it : it was mere foolery, i did not mark it. 1 saw 
 Mark Antony offer him a crown ; — yet 'twas not a 
 crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets ; — and, as 
 I told you, he put it by once : but, for all that, to my 
 thinking, he would fain have had it. Tlien he offered 
 it to him again ; then he put it by again : but, to my 
 thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers oft" it 
 And then he offered it the third time ; he put it the 
 third time by : and still as he refused it, the rabble- 
 ment hooted, and clapped their chopped hands, and 
 threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such 
 a deal of stinking breath because Cajsar refused the 
 crovvu, that it had almost choked Caesar; for he 
 swooned, and fell down at it: And for mine own part^ 
 I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips, ancl 
 receiving the bad air. 
 
 Cas. But, soft, I pray you: What? Did Csssar 
 swoon ? 
 
 Casca. He fell down iu the market-place, and 
 foamed at mouth, and was speechless. 
 
 Bru. ' Tis very like ; he hath the falling-sickness. 
 
 Cas. No, Caesar hath it not ; but you, and I, 
 And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness. 
 
 Casca. J know not what you mean by that ; but, 
 I am sure, Casar fell down. If the tag-rag people 
 did not chip him and hiss him, according as he 
 pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the 
 players in the theatre, I am no trae man. 
 
 Bru. What said he, when he came unto himself? 
 
 Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he per- 
 ceived the common herd was glad he refused the 
 crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and offered 
 them his throat to cut. — An I had been a man of any 
 occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, 
 I would I might go to hell among the rogues: — and 
 so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said. 
 If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired 
 their worships to think it was his infiimity. Three or 
 four wenches, where 1 stood, cried,- Alas, good soul ! 
 — and forgave him with all their hearts : But there's 
 no heed to be taken of them ; if Caesar had stabbed 
 their mothers, they would have done no less. 
 
 Bru. And alter that, he came, thus sad, away ! 
 
 Casca. Ay. 
 
 Ca.>;. Did Cicero say any thing ? 
 
 Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek, 
 
 Cas. To whateflect? 
 
 Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look yon 
 i'the face again : But those, that understood him, 
 smiled at one another, and shook their heads: but, 
 for my own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell 
 you more news too: Marullus and Flavins, (or pull- 
 ing scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. 
 Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I 
 could remember it. _ 
 
 Cas. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca ? 
 
 Casca. No, I am promised forth. 
 
 Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow? 
 
 Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and 
 your dinner worth the eating. 
 
 Cas. Good ; I will expect you. 
 
 Casca. Do so: Farewell, both. [Exit, 
 
 Bru. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be ? 
 He was quick mettle, when he went to school. 
 
 Cas. So is he now, in execution 
 Of any bold or noble enterprise. 
 However he puts on this tardy form. 
 'J'his rudeness is a sauce to his good wit. 
 Which gives men stomach to digest his words 
 With better appetite. 
 
 Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave yoo« 
 To-niorro.v, if you please to speak with me, 
 I will come home to you ; or, if you will, 
 Come home with me, and 1 will w ait for you. 
 
 Cas. I will do so : — till then, think of tlie world. 
 
 [Exit Brutu*. 
 Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, 
 I'liy honourable metal may be wrought 
 
588 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 From that it is dispos'd : Therefore 'tis meet 
 
 That noble minds keep ever with their hiies: 
 
 For who so firm, tliat cannot be seduc'd? 
 
 Caesar doth bear me hard ; but he loves jBrutus : 
 
 If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, 
 
 He should not humour me. I will this night, 
 
 In several hands, in at his windows throw, 
 
 As if they came from several citizens. 
 
 Writings, all tending to the great opinion 
 
 That Rome holds ot his name; wherein obscurely 
 
 Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at : 
 
 And, after this, let Caesar seat him sure ; 
 
 For we shall shake him, or worse days endufe. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. A Street. 
 
 Thunder andliyhtning. Enter,froin opposite sides, 
 Casca, with his sword drawn, and Cicero. 
 
 Cic. Good even, Casca : Brought you Caesar 
 home ? 
 Why are you breathles.** ? and why stare you so? 
 
 Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of 
 earth 
 Shakes, like a thing unfirm ? O Cicero, 
 I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds 
 Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have seen 
 The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam. 
 To be exalted wilh the threat'ning clouds : 
 But never till to-night, never till now. 
 Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
 Either there is a civil strife in heaven ; 
 Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, 
 Incenses them to send destruction. 
 
 Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderful ? 
 
 Casca. A common slave (you know him well by 
 sight,) 
 Held up his left hand, which did flame, and burn 
 Like twenty torches join'd ; and yet his hand, 
 Not sensible o*' fire, remain'd imscorch'd. 
 Besides, (I have not since put up my sword,) 
 Against the Capitol I met a lion, 
 Who glar'd npon me, and went surly by. 
 Without annoying irie : And there were drawn 
 Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women. 
 Transformed with their lear ; who swore, they saw 
 Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. 
 And, yesterday, the bird of night did sit. 
 Even at noon day, upon the market-place, 
 Hooting, and slirieking. When these prodigies 
 Do so conjointly meet, let not men say. 
 These are their reasons, — They are natural ; 
 For, I believe, they are portentous things 
 Unto the climate that they point upon. 
 
 Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time : 
 But men may construe things after their fashion. 
 Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. 
 Comes Casiar to the Capitol to-morrow? 
 
 Casca. He doth ; ibr he did bid Antonius 
 Send>vord to you, he would be there to-morrow. 
 
 Cic, Good night then, Casca : this disturbed sky 
 Is not to walk in. 
 
 Casca. Farewell, Cicero. [Exit Cicero. 
 
 I Enter Cassius. 
 
 Cas. Who's there ? 
 
 Casca. A Roman. 
 
 Cas. Casca. by your voice. 
 
 Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night 
 is this ? 
 
 Cas. A very pleasant night to honest men. 
 
 Casca. Who ever knew the hea\ens menace so? 
 
 Cas. Those, that have known the earth so full of 
 faults. 
 For my part, 1 have walk'd about the streets, 
 Subinittnig me unto the perilous night; 
 And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see. 
 Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone : 
 And, when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open 
 I he breast of heaven, I did present myself 
 Even in the aim and very Hash of it. 
 
 Casca. But wherefore did yoii so much tempt the 
 heavens ? 
 It is the part of men to fear and tremble, 
 When the most mighty gods, by lokens, send 
 Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. 
 
 Cas. You are dull, Casca ; and those sparks o» 
 life 
 That should be in a Roman, you do want. 
 Or else you use not : Yon look pale, and gaze. 
 And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder. 
 To see the strange impatience of the heavens : 
 But if you would consider the true cause. 
 Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts. 
 Why birds, and beasts, from quality and kind ; 
 Why old men, fools, and children calculate ; 
 Why all these things change, from their ordinance. 
 Their natures, and pre-formed faculties. 
 To monstrous quality ; why, you shall find, 
 That heaven hath infus'd them with tliese spirits 
 To make them instruments of fear and warning, 
 Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, C-isca, 
 Name to thee a man most like this dreadful niglit; 
 That thunders, lightens, opens gra\ es, and roars 
 As doth the lion in the.Capitol : 
 A man no mightier than thyself, or me, 
 In personal action; yet prodigious grown, 
 And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. 
 
 Casca. 'Tis Caesar that you mean : Is it not, Cas- 
 sius? 
 
 Cas. Let it be who it is : for Romans now 
 Have thewes and limbs like to their ancestors , 
 But, woe the while ! our father's minds are dead, 
 And we are govern'd with our mothers' S|<iri(s ; 
 Our yoke and siitferance shew us womanish. 
 
 Casca. Indeed, they say, the senators til) iiioirow 
 Mean to establish Caesar as a king : 
 And he shall wear his crown by sea, and hind. 
 In every place, save here in Italy. 
 
 Cas. I know where I will wear this dagger then; 
 Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius; 
 Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong ; 
 Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat : 
 Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass. 
 Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iro.n. 
 Can be retentive to the strength of spirit ; 
 But life, being weary of these wordly bars. 
 Never lacks power to dismiss itself 
 If I know this, know all the world besides. 
 That part of tyranny that I do bear, 
 I can shake off at pleasure. 
 
 Casca. So can I ; 
 
 So every bondman in his own hand bears 
 The power to cancel his.captivity. 
 
 Cas. And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? 
 Poor man ! I know, he would not be a wolf, 
 But that he sees the Romans are but sheep : 
 He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. 
 Those that with haste will make a mighty fire. 
 Begin it with weak straws : Wiiat trash is Rome, 
 W'hat rubbish, and what odal, when it serves 
 For the base matter to illuminate 
 So vile a thing as Caesar? But, O grief! 
 Where hast thou led me ? I, perhaos, speak this 
 Before a willing bondman : then I know 
 My answer must be made : But I am arm'd. 
 And dangers are to me indifferent. 
 
 Casca. You speak to Casta ; and to such a !naZV 
 That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold my hand: 
 Be factious for redress of all these griefs ; 
 And I will set this foot of mine as far. 
 As who goes farthest. 
 
 Cas. There's a bargain made. 
 
 Now know yon, Casca, I have mov'd already 
 Some certain of the noblest-minded Rumans, 
 To undergo with me an enterprise 
 Of hononrable-dangerous consequence; 
 And I do know, by this, they stay for me 
 In Pompey's porcli : For now, this fearful nighti 
 There is no stir, or walking in the streets ; 
 And the complexion of the element 
 
Act II. Scene 1. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 589 
 
 Is favour'd, like the work we have in hand, 
 Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. 
 
 Enter Cinna. 
 
 Casca. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in 
 haste. 
 
 Cas. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait ; 
 He is a friend. — Cinna, where haste yon so? 
 
 Cin. To find out you: Who's that? Metellus 
 Ci tuber ? 
 
 Cas. No, it is Casca ; one incorporate 
 To our attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna ? 
 
 Cin. I am glad on't. What a fearfid night is this ? 
 There's two or three ot'iis iiave seen strange sights. 
 
 Cas, Am I not stuid lor, Cinna? Tell me. 
 
 Cin. Yes, 
 
 You are. O, Cassiiis, if yon could but win 
 The noble Brutus to our partj' — 
 
 Ca^. Be you content : Good Cinna, take this paper, 
 And look you lay it in the preetor's chair, 
 Where Brutus may but find it ; and throw this 
 In at his window : set this up with wax 
 Upon old Brutus' statue : all this done. 
 Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. 
 Is Decius Brutus, and Trebonius, there ? 
 
 Cin. All but Aletellus Cimber ; and he's gone 
 To seek yon at your house. Well, I will hie. 
 And so bestow these papers as you bade me. 
 
 Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. 
 
 [Exit Cinna. 
 Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day, 
 See Brutus at liis house : three parts of him 
 Is ours already ; and the man entire. 
 Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. 
 
 Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; 
 And that which would appear otl'ence in us. 
 His countenance, like richest alchymy. 
 Will chan;;e to virtue, and to Worthiness. 
 
 Cas. Him, and his worth, and our great need of 
 him. 
 Yon have right well conceited. Let us go, 
 For it is after midnight; and, ere day. 
 We will awake him, and be sure of him. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 Scene I. — The same. Brutus" s Orchard. 
 Enter Brl'tus. 
 Brii. What, Lucius! hoi — 
 I cannot, by the proi^ress of the stars. 
 Give guess how near to day. — Lucius, I say! — 
 I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. — 
 When, Lucius, when ? Awake, I say : What Lu- 
 cius? 
 
 Enter Lucius. 
 
 Luc. Call'd yon, my lord ? 
 
 Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius : 
 When it is lighted, come and call me here. 
 
 Luc. 1 will, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Bru. It must be by his death : and, for my part 
 I know no personal cause to -spurn at him, 
 But for the general. He would be crown'd : — 
 How that miyht change his nature, there's the 
 
 question. 
 It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder: 
 And that craves wary walking.- Crown him ? — 
 
 That ;— 
 And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 
 I'hat at his will he may do danger with. 
 The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 
 Remorse from power: And, to speak truth of Csesar, 
 1 have not known when his allections sway'd 
 More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof. 
 That lowliness is yonng ambition's ladder, 
 Whereto the climber-upward turns his face : 
 But when he once attains tiie upmost round. 
 He then unto the ladder turns his hack, 
 Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
 By which tie did ascend • So Casar may ; 
 
 Then, lest be may, prevent. And, since the quarrel 
 Will bear no colour for the thing he is. 
 Fashion it thus ; that what he is, augmented, 
 Would run to these, and these extremities: 
 And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, 
 Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischie- 
 vous. 
 And kill him in the shell. 
 
 lie-enter Lucius. 
 
 Ltic, The taper bnrneth in yonr closet, sir* 
 Searching the window tor a Hint, I found 
 This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure. 
 It did not lie there, when 1 went to bed. 
 
 Bru. Get you to bed again, it is now day. 
 Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? 
 
 Luc. I know not, sir. 
 
 Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. 
 
 Luc. 1 will, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air, 
 Give .so much light that I may read by tliem. 
 
 {Opens the letter, and reads.) 
 Brutus, thou sleep's t; awake, and see thyself. 
 Shall Borne. §'c. Speak, strike, redress ! 
 Brutus, thou sleep'st ; awake. — 
 Such instigations have been often dropp'd 
 Where I have took them up. 
 Shall Rome, §fc. Thus must I piece it out; 
 Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? Whut? 
 
 Rome ?' 
 My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
 'J'he 'J'arquin drive, when he was call'd a king. 
 Speak, strike, redress ! — Am I entreated then 
 'I'o speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee 
 
 promise. 
 If the redress will follow, thou receivest 
 Thy full petition at the hand of Brutusi 
 
 Re-enter Lucius. 
 Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. 
 
 - {Knock tvithin.) 
 
 Bru.Tis good. Go to the gate ; somebody knocks. 
 
 [Exit Lucius. 
 Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, 
 I have not slept. 
 
 Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
 And the first motion, all the interim is 
 Like a phantasnia, or a hideous dream : 
 The genius, and the mortal instruments. 
 Are then in council; and the state of man. 
 Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
 The nature of an insurrection. 
 
 Re-enter Lucius. 
 
 Luc. Sir, tis your brother Cassius at the door, 
 Who doth desire to see yon. 
 
 Bru. Is he alone ? 
 
 Luc. No, sir; there are more with him. 
 
 Bru. Do you know them ? 
 
 Imc. No, sir ; their hats are plnck'd about their 
 ears. 
 And half their faces buried in their cloaks. 
 That by no means I may discoier them 
 By any mark of favour. 
 
 Bru. Let them enter. 
 
 [Exit Lucius. 
 They are the faction. O conspiracy ! 
 Sham'st thou to shew thy dangerous brow by night, 
 When evils are most free ? O, then, by day, 
 Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
 To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, con- 
 spiracy ; 
 Hide it in smiles, and affability : 
 For if thou path thy native semblance on. 
 Not Erebus itself were dim enough 
 To hide thee from prevention. 
 
 Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Mbt^ 
 Lus CiMBER, and Trebonius. 
 Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest : 
 
590 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Good-morrow, Bruins ; Do we troiible yon? 
 
 Bru. I ha\e been tip this liour; awiike, all night. 
 K.11OW I these men, thut come along willi you ? 
 
 Cas. Yes, every man ol tliem ; anil no man here, 
 But honours you; and every one cloth Wish, 
 You had but that opinion of yourseli, 
 Which every noble llouian bears of you. 
 This is 'IVebonius. 
 
 Bru. He is welcome hither. 
 
 Cas. This Decius Brutus. 
 
 Bru. He is welcome too. 
 
 Cas. This. Casca ; this, Cinna ; 
 A.nd this, Metelius Ciuiber. 
 
 Bru. They are all welcome. 
 
 What watchful cares do interpose themselves 
 IJetwixt your eyes and night ? 
 
 Cas. Shall I entreat a wc^rd ? [They xvhisper.) 
 
 Dec. Here lies the east : Doth not the day break 
 
 Casca. No. [here? 
 
 Cm. O, pardon, sir, it doth ; and yon grey lines. 
 That fret the clouds, are messengers of day. 
 
 Casca. You shall confess, tliat you are both 
 deceiv'd. 
 Elere, as I point uiy sword, the sun a'rises; 
 VV^hich is a great way growing on the south. 
 Weighing the youthfid season of the year. 
 Some two months hence, up liiglier to A'ard the north. 
 He first presents his fire : and the high east 
 Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. 
 
 Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. 
 
 Cas. And let us swear our resolution. 
 
 Bru. No, not an oath: Jf not the face of men, 
 The sullerance of our souls, the time's abuse, — 
 If these be motives weak, break otf t»etimes. 
 And every man hence to his idle bed; 
 So let high sighted tyranny range on. 
 Till each man drop by lottery. But if these. 
 As I am sure they do, bear fire enough 
 To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour 
 The melting spirits of women ; then, countrymen, 
 What need we any spur, but our own cause, 
 To prick us to redress? what other bond. 
 Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word. 
 And will not palter? and what other oath, 
 Tlir.n honesty 10 honesty engag'd. 
 That this shall be, or we will fall for it? 
 Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous. 
 Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls 
 That welcome wrongs ; unto had ca;ises swear 
 Such creatures as men doubt: but do not staiQ 
 The even virtue of our enterprise. 
 Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits. 
 To thiuk, that, or our cause, or our performance. 
 Did need an oath; when every drop of blood, 
 That everv Roman bears, and nobly bears, 
 Is guilty of a several bastardy. 
 If he do break the smallest particle 
 Of any prouiise that hath pass'd from him. 
 
 Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? 
 I thiuk he will stand very strong with us. 
 Casca. Let us not leave him out. 
 Cin. No, by no means. 
 
 Met. O let us have him ; for his silver hairs 
 Will purchase us a good opinion. 
 And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: 
 It shall be said, his judgment rufd our hands; 
 Our youths, and wildniss, shall no whit appear. 
 But all be buried in his gravity. (him ; 
 
 Bru. O, native him not; let us not break with 
 
 For he will never follow any thing 
 
 I'hat other men begin. 
 Cas. Then leave him out. 
 
 i^asca. Indeed, he is not fit. 
 Dec. Shall no man else be touched, but only 
 
 Caesar ? 
 uut. Decius, well urg'd : — I think it is not meet, 
 
 Mark AutDoy, so well belov'd of Cajsar, 
 
 Sho'iia ouiiive Caisar: We shall find of him 
 
 A *'jr<'^v.\ :;;)ntriver; and, you know, his means, 
 
 If h« .mi>rove them, may well stretch so far, 
 
 As to annoy us all : which to prevent. 
 Let Antony, and Caesar, fall together. 
 
 Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius 
 Cassius, 
 To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs ; 
 Like wrath in death, and eii\ y allerwards : 
 For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. 
 Let us be sacrificers, but no butchers, Caius , 
 
 We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar; i 
 And in the spirit of men there is no blood : _ 
 O, that we tiien could come by Caesar's spirit, 
 And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, 
 Caesar must bleed for it .' And, gentle friends. 
 Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; , 
 Let's carv e him as a dish fit for the gods. 
 Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds : 
 And let our hearts, as subtle masters do. 
 Stir up their servants to an act of rage. 
 And after seem to chide them. This shall make 
 Our purpose necessary, and not envious : 
 Which so appearing to the common eyes. 
 We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. 
 And for Mark Antony, think not of him ; 
 For he can do no more than Cajsar's arm, 
 When Cassar's I'ead is off. 
 
 Cas. Yet I do fear him : 
 
 For in the ingrafted love Ivg bears to Caesar, — * 
 
 Bru. Alas, good Cassius,'do not think of him 
 If he love Caesar, all that he can do 
 Is to himself; take thought, aiKJ die for Caesar ; 
 And that were much he should; for he is given 
 To sports, to wilduess, and much company. 
 
 Treb. There is no fear in him ; let him not die ; 
 For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. 
 
 {Clock strikes.) 
 
 Bru. Peace, count the clock. 
 
 Cas. The clock hath stricken three. 
 
 Treb. 'Tis time to part. 
 
 Cas. But it is doubtful yet, 
 
 Whe'r Caesar will come forth to-day, or no : 
 For he is superstitious grown of late ; 
 Quite from the main opinion he held once 
 Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies: 
 It may be, these apparent prodigies, 
 The nnaccustom'd terror of this night, 
 And the persuasion oi' his aiigurers, 
 May hold him irom the Capitol to-day. 
 
 Dec. Never fear that: If he be so resolv'd, 
 I can o'ersway him : for he loves to hear. 
 That unicorns may be betray'd with trees. 
 And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, 
 Lions with toils, and men with flatterers: 
 But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers, 
 He says, he does; being then most flattered 
 Let me work : 
 
 For I can give his humour the true bent; 
 And I will bring him to the Capitol. 
 
 Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him 
 
 Bru. By the eighth hour: Is that the uttermost? 
 
 Cin Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. 
 
 Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, 
 Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey ; 
 I wonder, none of you have thought of him. 
 
 Bru. Now, good Metelius, go along by him : 
 He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; 
 Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. 
 
 Cas. The morning comes upon us: We'll leav 
 you, Brutus; — 
 And, friends, disperse yourselves : but all remember 
 What you have said, and shew yourselves true Ro- 
 mans. 
 
 Brtt. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merfilj ; 
 Let not our looks put on our purposes ; 
 But bear it as our Roman actors do, 
 With untir'd spirits, and formal constancy. 
 And so, good-morrow to yon every one. 
 
 [Exeunt ail but Brutus. 
 Boy! Lucius! — Fast asleep? It is no matter; 
 Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 
 Ttiou hast no fijjures, nor no fautasies, 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 591 
 
 Which busy care draws in the brains of men ; 
 Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 
 
 Etiter Portia. 
 Por. Brutus, my lord ! 
 
 £ru. Portia, what mean you? Wherel'ore rise 
 you now ? 
 It is not for your health, thus to commit 
 Your weak condition to the raw-cold morning. 
 Por. Nor for yours neither. You have ungently, 
 Brutus, 
 Stole from my bed : And yesternight, at supper. 
 You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, 
 Musing, and sighing, with your arms across: 
 And, wlien I ask'd you what the matter was. 
 You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: 
 I urg'd you fin-ther ; then you scratch'd your head, 
 And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: 
 Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; 
 But, with an angry wafture of your hand. 
 Gave sign for me to leave you ; So I did ; 
 Fearing to strengthen that impatience, 
 VVhich seem'd too much enkindled ; and, withal. 
 Hoping it was but an effect of humour, 
 Which sometime hath his hour witli every man. 
 It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep ; 
 And could it work so much upon your shape, 
 As it hatii much prevaii'd on your condition, 
 I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord. 
 Make me acquainted witii your cause of grief 
 Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. 
 Por. Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, 
 H^ would embrace the means to come by it. 
 Bru. \Vhy, so I do : — Good Portia, go to bed. 
 Por. Is Brutus sick ? and is it physical 
 To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours 
 Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick ; 
 .\nd will he steal out of his wholesome bed. 
 To dare the vile contagion of the night? 
 And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air 
 To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus ; 
 You lia\e some sick offence within your mind, 
 Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 
 I ought to know of: And upon my knees 
 I charm you, by my once commended beauty. 
 By all your vows of love, and that great vow 
 VVhich did incorporate and make us one, 
 That you unfold to me, yourself, your half. 
 Why you are heavy ; and what men to-night 
 Have had resort to you : for here have been 
 Some six or seven, who did hide their faces 
 liven from darkness. 
 Bric. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 
 
 Por. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. 
 Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 
 Is it excepted, I should know no secrets 
 riiat appertain to you? Am I yourself. 
 But, as it were, in sort, or limitation ; 
 
 keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, 
 And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the 
 
 suburbs 
 Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, 
 Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 
 
 Bru. You are my true and honourable wife ; 
 As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops 
 TliHt visit my sad heart. 
 Por. If this were true, then should I know this 
 secret. 
 I grant, I auj a woman ; but, withal, 
 A woman that lord Brutus took to wife : 
 I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
 A woman well-reputed ; Cato's daughter. 
 Think you, I am no stronger than my sex. 
 Being so father'd, and so husbanded ? 
 Tell me your counsels. 1 will not disclose them: j 
 1 h;ue made strong proof of my constancy, 
 (iiving myself a voluntary wound 
 Here, in the thigh; Can I bear that with patience. 
 And not my husband's secrets' 
 Bru. O ye gods. 
 
 Render me worthy of this noble wife ! 
 
 {Knociinc/ tviiAin ) 
 Hark, hark 1 one knocks: Portia, go in a while; 
 And by and by t!\y bosom shall partake 
 'i'he secrets of niy heart. 
 All my eD^agements J will construe to thee. 
 All the charactery of my sad brows : — 
 Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia. 
 
 Enter Lucius and Ligarius. 
 
 Lucius, who is that knocks? 
 
 Luc. Here, is a sick man, that would speaiL with 
 you. 
 
 Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellns spake of. — 
 Boy, stand aside. — Caius Ligarius ! how ? 
 
 Lii/. Vouchsafe good-morrow, from a feeble 
 tongue. [Cains, 
 
 Brzi. O, what a time have you chose out, brave 
 To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick ! 
 
 Lig. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand 
 Any exploit worthy tlie name of honour. 
 
 Bru. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, 
 Had yoti a healthful ear to hear of it. 
 
 Lig. By all the gods, that Romans bow beford, 
 I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome ! 
 Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins ! 
 Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjur'd up 
 JMy mortified spirit. Now bid me run. 
 And I will strive with things impossible ; 
 Yea, get the better of them. What's to do ? 
 
 Bru. A piece of work, that will make sick men 
 whole. [sick? 
 
 Lig. But are not some whole, that we must make 
 
 Bru. That must we also. VVhat it is, my Caius, 
 I shall unfold to thee, as we are going 
 To whom it must be done. 
 
 Lig. _ Set On your foot : 
 
 And, with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you, 
 To do I know not what : but it sufBceth, 
 That Brutus leads me on 
 
 Bru. Follow me then. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — T/ie same. A Boom in Casar'a 
 Palace. 
 
 Thunder and lightning. Enter CasAR, in his 
 
 night-gown. 
 Cces. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at peace 
 to-night: 
 Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, 
 Help, ho I They murder Ccesar ! Who's within ? 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. My lord ? 
 
 Cas. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice. 
 And bring me their opinions of success. 
 Serv. I will, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Calphurnia. 
 
 Ca/. What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk 
 forth ? 
 You shall not stir out of your house to-day 
 
 Cas. Caesar shall forth : The things, that threa- 
 ten'd me. 
 Ne'er look'd but on my back ; when they shall see 
 The face of Cajsar, they are vanished. 
 
 Cal. Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies. 
 Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 
 Besides the things that we have heard and seea, 
 Recounts must horrid sights seen by the watch. 
 A lioness hath whelped in the streets ; 
 And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dertd . 
 Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, 
 In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 
 Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol: 
 The noise of battle hurtled in the air. 
 Hors«es did neigh, and dying men did groan ; 
 And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streete. 
 O Caesar! these things are beyond all use, 
 And I do fear them. 
 
 Cves. What can be avoided. 
 
592 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? 
 Yet Caesar shall go forth ; for these predictions 
 Are to the world in general, as to Caesar. 
 
 Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets 
 
 seen j f princes. 
 
 The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of 
 
 Cces. Cowards die many times before their deaths; 
 The valiant never taste of death but once. 
 Of all the wonders, that I yet ha\ e heard. 
 It seems to me most strange, that men should fear 
 Seeing that deatli, a necessary end. 
 Will come, when it will come. 
 
 Re-enter Servant. 
 
 What say the augurers ? 
 
 'Serv. They would not have you to stir forth to-day. 
 Plucking tiie entrails of an offering forth, 
 They could not find a heart within the Least. 
 
 Ciss. The gdds do this in shame of cowardice ; 
 Caesar should be a beast without a heart. 
 If he should stay at home to-day for fear. 
 No, Caesar shall not: Danger knows full well, 
 That Caesar is more dangerous than he. 
 We were two lions litter'd in one day, 
 And I the elder and more terrible : 
 And Caesar shall go forth. 
 
 Cal. Alas, my lord, 
 
 Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence. 
 Do not go forth to-day: Cull it my fear. 
 That keeps you jn the house, and not your own. 
 We'll send i\Iark Antony to the senate-house : 
 And he shall say, you are not well to-day : 
 Liet me, upon my knee, prevail in this. 
 
 Cas, Mark Antony sliall say, I am not well ; 
 And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. 
 
 Enter Decius. 
 
 Here's Decius Brutus, he shail tell them so. 
 
 Dec. Caesar, all hail 1 iiood morrow, worthy 
 Cassar : 
 I come to fetch you to the s«;nate-house, 
 
 Cees. And you are come in very happy time, 
 To bear my greeting to the senators. 
 And tell them, that I will nut eome to-day: 
 Cannot, is false ; and that I dare not, falser : 
 1 will not come to- day : Tell them so, Decius. 
 
 Cal. Say, he is sick. 
 
 C<es. Shall Caesar send a lie ? 
 
 Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, 
 To be afeard to tell grey-beards the truth ? ' 
 Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not corae. 
 
 Dec. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, 
 Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so. 
 
 Cas. The cause is in my will, I will not come ; 
 That is enough to satisfy the senate. 
 But, for your private satisfaction, 
 Because I love you, I will let ycu know. 
 Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home : 
 She dreamt to-night she saw my statu , 
 Which like a fountain, with a hundred spouts, 
 Did run pure blood ; and many lusty Romains 
 Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it. 
 And these doth she apply for warnings, portents, 
 And evil imminent; and on her knee 
 Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to-day. 
 
 Dec. This dream is all amiss interpreted; 
 It was a vision, fair and fortunate : 
 Your statue spouting blood in many pines, 
 D which so many smiling Romans batn'd. 
 Signifies, that froui you great Rome shall suck 
 Reviving blood ; and that great men shall press 
 For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance. 
 This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. 
 
 Cces. And this way have you well expounded it. 
 
 Dec. I have, when you have heard what I can say : 
 And know it now : The senate have concluded 
 To give, this day, a crown to mighty Caesar, 
 iiyou shall send them word, you will not come. 
 Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock 
 Apt to be render d, for some one to say. 
 
 Break up the senate till another time, 
 
 When Ccesar's wife shall me ettuith better dreams 
 
 If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper, 
 
 lio, Caesar is afraid? 
 
 Pardon me, Caesar ; for my dear, dear love 
 
 To your proceeding bids me tejl you this; 
 
 And reason to my love is liable. 
 
 Cces. How li)olish do your fears seem now 
 Calphurnia ? 
 I am ashamed I did yield to them. — 
 Give me my robe, for I will go : — 
 
 Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellcs, 
 Casca, Tkebonius, and Cinna. 
 
 And look where Publins is come to fetch me. 
 
 Pub. Good- morrow, Caesar. 
 
 Cisis. Welcome, Publius.— 
 
 What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? — 
 Good-morrow, Casca. — Cains Ligarius, 
 Caesar was ne'er so umch your enemy, 
 As that same ague which hath made you lean. 
 What is't o'clock ? 
 
 Brit. Caesar, 'tis striicken eight. 
 
 C<es. I thank you for your pains and courtesy 
 
 Enter Antony. 
 
 See ! Antony, that revels long o'nights. 
 Is notwithstanding up; — 
 Good-morrow, Antony. 
 
 Ant. So to most noble Cassar. 
 
 Cas. Bid them prepare within : — 
 I am to blame to be thus waited for. — 
 Now, Cinna : — Now, Metelius : — \Vhat,Trebonias ! 
 I have an hour's talk in store lor you ; 
 Remember, that you call on me to day : 
 Be near me, that I may remember you. 
 
 Treb. Ca;sar, I will : — and so near will I be, 
 
 (Aside.) 
 That your best friends shall wish I had been lurther. 
 
 C<es. Good friends, go in, and taste some wine 
 with me ; 
 And we like friends, will straightway go together. 
 
 Bni. That every like is not the same, O Caesar, 
 The heart ot Brutus yearns to think upon ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — The same. A Street near the 
 Capitol. 
 
 Enter Artemidorus, reading a paper. 
 Art. Ceesar, beware of Brutus ; take heed of 
 Cassius ; come not near Casca ; have an eye to 
 Cinna ; trust not Trebunius ; mark well Metelius 
 Cimber ; Decius Brutus loves thee not ; thou hast 
 tvronr/ed Cuius Liynrius. There is but one mind 
 in. all these men, and it is bent against Ccesar. 
 If thou be'st not immortal, look about you: 
 Security gives ivay to conspiracy. The 7nighty 
 gods defend thee ! 'Thy lover, Artemidorus. 
 Here will I stand, till Caesar pass along, 
 And as a suitor will I give him this. 
 My heart laments, that virtue cannot live 
 Out of the teeth of emulation. 
 If thou read this, O Caesar, thou may'st live; 
 If not, the fates with traitors do contrive. [Exit- 
 
 Scene IV. — The .same. Another part of the same 
 Street, before the House of Brutus. 
 
 Enter Portia and Lucius. 
 
 Por. I pr'ythee, boy, run to the senate-house ; 
 Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone : 
 Why dost thou stay ? 
 
 Luc. To know my errand, madi«iD. 
 
 Por. I would have had thee there, and here again, 
 Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there — 
 
 constancy, be strong upon my side ! 
 
 Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tonpifi: 
 
 1 have a man's mind, but a woman's migbt.^ 
 How I'.ard it is for women to keep couusei I — 
 Art thou here yet? , . . 
 
 Luc. Madam, what shouia i a 
 
Act IIL Sckne 1. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 593 
 
 Run (o the Capitol, and nothing else ? 
 And so return to you, and notliing else ? 
 
 Por. Yes, bringrae word, boy, ifthy lord look well, 
 For he went sickly forth: And take good note. 
 What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him. 
 Hark, boy ! what noise is that? 
 
 I/itc. I hear none, madam. 
 
 Por. Pr'ythee, listen well : 
 
 I heard a bii.stling rumour, like a fray. 
 And tiie wind brings it from the Capitol. 
 
 Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. 
 
 Enter Soothsmjer. 
 
 Por. Come hither, fellow : 
 
 Which way hast thou been ? 
 
 Sooth. At mine own house, good lady. 
 
 Pur. What is't o'clock ? 
 
 Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady. 
 
 Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol ? 
 
 Sooth. Madam, not yet ; I go to take roy stand, 
 To see him pass on to the Capitol. 
 
 Por. Thou hast some suit to Csesar, hast thou not ? 
 
 Sooth, 'J'hat I have, lady : if it will please Cassar 
 To be so good to Caesar, as to hear me, 
 I shall beseech him to befriend himself. 
 
 Por, Why, know'st thou any harm's intended 
 towards him ? 
 
 Sooth. None, that I know will be ; much, that 
 1 fear may chance. 
 Good-morrow to you. Here the street is narrow: 
 The tiiroiig, that follows Cajsarnt the heels, 
 Ol senators, of praitors, common suitors, 
 Will crowd a feeble man aimostto death: 
 I'll get me to a place more void, and there 
 •Speak to great Cassar as he comes along. [Exit. 
 
 Por. I must ^o in. — Ah me ! how weak a thing 
 The heart of woman is ! O Brutus ! 
 'I'he heavens speed tiiee in tliine enterprise ! 
 .Sure, the boy heard me : — Brutus hath a suit. 
 That Caisar will not grant. — O, I grow faint : — 
 Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord ; 
 »jay, I am meriy : come to me ugain, 
 And bi ing me word wiiat he dulh say to thee. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. The Capitol; the Henaie 
 sitting. 
 
 A crotvd of people in the street leading to the 
 Capitol ; among them Artejiidorus, and the 
 Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter C^sar, Brutus, 
 Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus.Trebonius, 
 Clnna, Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius, 
 and others. 
 
 CcRS. The ides of March are come. 
 
 Sooth. Ay, Csesar; but not gone. 
 
 Art. Hail, Caesar; Read this schedule. 
 
 Dec. Treboniiis doth desire you to o'er-read. 
 At your best leisure, this his humble suit. 
 
 Art. O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit 
 That touches Caesar nearer: Read it, great Caesar. 
 
 CdSs. What touches us ourseif, shall be last serv'd. 
 
 Art. Delay not, Cassar: read it instantly. 
 
 Cas. Wliat, is the fellow mad '! 
 
 Pub. Sirrah, give place. 
 
 Cas. What, urge you your petitions in the street ? 
 Come to the Capitol. 
 
 C^SAR enters the Capitol, the rest following. All 
 the Senators rise. 
 
 Pop. T wish, your enterprise to-day may thrive. 
 
 Cas. What enterprise, Popilius ? 
 
 Pop. Fare you well. 
 
 (Advances to Ccesar.) 
 Pru. What said Popilius Lena ? 
 Cas. He wish'd, to-day our enterprise might thrive. 
 I fear, our purpose is discover'd. 
 
 Brii. Look, how he makes to Csesar: Mark him. 
 Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. — 
 
 Brutus, what sliall be done ? If this be known, 
 Cassius or Caesar never shall tun\ back. 
 For I will slay myself. 
 
 Bru. Cassius, be constant 
 
 Popilius I^ena speaks not of our purposes ; 
 For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. 
 Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look yon, 
 Brutus, 
 He draws Mark Antony out of the way. 
 
 [Exeunt Antony and Trebonins. Ctesar 
 and the Senators take their seats. 
 Dec. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, 
 And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. 
 Bru. He is address'd : press near, and second him 
 Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. 
 Cas. Are we all ready? what is now amiss, 
 That Caesar, and his senate, must redress ? 
 Met. Most high, most mighty, and most paia- 
 sant Caesar, 
 Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat 
 An humble heart:— {Kneeling.) 
 
 Cas. I must prevent thee, Cimber. 
 
 Tliese couchings, and these lowly courtesies, 
 Might fire the blood of ordinary men; ^ 
 And turn pre-ordinance, and first decree. 
 Into the law of children. Be not fond, 
 To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood, 
 That will be thaw'd from the true quality 
 With that which melteth fools ; I mean, sweet words. 
 Low-crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning 
 Thy brother by decree is banished ; 
 If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, 
 I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
 Know, Caesar doth not wrong ; nor without cause 
 \VilI he be satisfied. 
 
 Met. Is there np voice more worthy than my own. 
 To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear. 
 For the repealing of my banish'd brother? 
 
 Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Ciesar; 
 Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may 
 Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 
 Cas. What, Brutus ! 
 
 Cas. Pardon, Caesar; Cassar, pardon 
 
 As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall. 
 To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. 
 
 Cas. I could be well mov'd, if I were as you* 
 If I could pray to move, prayers would move me 
 But I am constant as the northern star, 
 Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality. 
 There is no fellow in the firmament. 
 The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks. 
 1'hey are all fire, and every one doth shine ; 
 But there's but one in all doth hold his place : 
 So, in the world ; 'Tis furnish'd well with men ; 
 And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive 
 Yet, in the number, I do know but one 
 I'hat unassailable holds on his rank, 
 Unshak'd of motion : and, that I am he. 
 Let me a little shew it, even in this ; 
 That I was constant, Cimber should be babish'd.; 
 And constant do remain to keep him so. 
 
 Cin. O Caesar, — 
 
 Cas. Hence I Wilt thou lift up Olympus ? 
 
 Dec, Great Caesar, — 
 
 Cas. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel '! 
 
 Casca. Speak, hands, for me. 
 
 (Casca stabs Casar in the neck. Casar 
 catches hold of hi» arm. He is then 
 stabbed by several other Conspirators, 
 and at last by Marcus Brutus.) 
 
 Cas. Et tu, Brute ?-Tliea fall, C^sar. (DiM, 
 The senators and people retire in confu- 
 sion.) 
 
 Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead ! — 
 Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
 
 Cas. Some to the common pulpit, and cry out, 
 Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement ! 
 
 Bru. People, and senators ! be not affrighted , 
 Fly not ; stand still : — ambition's debt is paid. 
 
 Casca, Go to the pulpit, Brutus. 
 
 38 
 
594 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 ])(,c. And Cassius too. j 
 
 liru. Where's Publiiis ? 
 
 Cin. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. 
 
 Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend of 
 Should chance— [Cajsar 
 
 Bru. Talk not of standing; Piiblius, good cheer ; 
 There isiio harm intended to your person. 
 Nor to no Roman else : so tell them, PubHus. 
 
 Vas. And leave us, Puhlius ; lest that the people, 
 Rusliing on us, siiould do your age some miscliief. 
 
 Bru. Do so ;— and let no man abide this deed, 
 But we the doers. 
 
 Re-enter Tkebonius. 
 
 Cas. Where's Antony ? 
 
 Tre. Fled to his house amaz'd : 
 
 Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and run. 
 As it were doomsday. 
 
 Bru. Fates ! we will know yoar pleasures : — 
 That we shall die, we know, 'tis but the time. 
 And drawing days out, that men stand upon. 
 
 Cas. Why, he that cuts olf twenty years of life. 
 Cuts off so many years of fearing death. 
 
 Bru. Grant that, and then is death a benefit : 
 So are we Cwsar's friends, that have abridg'd 
 His time of fearing death. — Stoop, Romans, stoop, 
 And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood 
 Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords : 
 Then walk we forth, even to the market-place ; 
 And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, 
 Let's all C17, Peace ! Freedom ! and Liberty ! 
 
 Cas. Stoop then, and wash, — How many ages 
 hence, 
 Shall this our lofty scene be acted over 
 In states unborn, and accents yet unknown? 
 
 Bru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in 
 That now on Pompey's basis lies along, [sport. 
 
 No worthier than the dust ? 
 
 Cas. So oft as that shall be. 
 
 So often shall the knot of us be call'd 
 The men that gave our country liberty. 
 
 Dec. What, shall we forth ? 
 
 Cas. Ay, every man away : 
 
 Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels 
 With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Bru. Soft, who comes here ? A friend of Antony's. 
 
 Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel ; 
 Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down : 
 And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say. 
 Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; 
 Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving; 
 Say, I love Brutus, and honour him ; 
 Say, I fear'd Caesar, honour'd hiTu, and lov'd hira. 
 If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony 
 May safely come to him, and be resolv'd 
 How Csesar hath deserv'd to lie in death, 
 Mark Antony shall not love Cassar dead. 
 So well as Brutus living; but will follow 
 The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus, 
 Thorough the hazards of this untrod state. 
 With all tnie faith. So says my master Antony. 
 
 Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman ; 
 I never thought him worse. 
 Tell him, so please him come unto this place. 
 He shall be satisfied : and, by my honour. 
 Depart untouch'd. 
 
 Serv. rU fetch him presently. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Bru. I know, that we shall have him well to 
 friend. 
 
 Cas. I wish, we may : but yet have I a mind. 
 That fears him much ; and niy misgiving still 
 Palls shrewdly to the purpose. 
 
 Re-enter Antony. 
 
 Bru. But here comes Antony.— Welcome, Mark 
 
 Antony. 
 Ant. O mighty Csesar ! Dost thou lie so low ? 
 
 Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoliu. 
 
 Shrunk to-this little measnre ?— Fare thee well, — 
 
 I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. 
 
 Who else must be let blood, who else is rank : 
 
 If 1 myself, there is no hour so fit. 
 
 As Cassar's death's hour; nor no instrument 
 
 Ol' half that worth, as those your swords, made rich 
 
 With the most noble blood of all this world. 
 
 I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard. 
 
 Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke. 
 
 Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
 
 I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
 
 No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
 
 As here by Caesar, and by you cut off. 
 
 The choice and master spirits of this age. 
 
 Bru. O Antony ! beg not your death of us. 
 Though now we nmst appear bloody and cruel. 
 As, by our hands, and this our present act. 
 You see we do ; yet see you but our hands. 
 And this the bleeding business they have done ; 
 Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful ; 
 And pity to the general wrong of Rome 
 ^As fire drives out fire, so pity, pity,) 
 Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, 
 To you our swords have leaden points, Mark 
 
 Antony : 
 Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts. 
 Of brothers' temper, do receive you in 
 With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. 
 
 Cas, Your voice shall be as strong as any man's, 
 In the disposing of new dignities. 
 
 Bru. Only be patient, till we have appeas'd 
 The multitude, beside themselves with fear. 
 And then we will deliver you the cause. 
 Why I. that did love Caesar when I struck him. 
 Have thus proceeded. 
 
 Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom. 
 
 Let each man render me his bloody hand : 
 First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you: — 
 Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand ; — 
 Now, Decius Brutus, yours; — now yours, i\Ie- 
 
 tellus ; 
 Yours, Cinna; — and, my valiant Casca, yours; 
 Though last, not least in love, yours, good Tre- 
 
 bonius. 
 Gentlemen all, — alas ! what shall I say ? 
 My credit now stands on such slippery ground, 
 That one of two bad ways you must conceit me 
 Either a coward or a flatterer. — 
 That I did love thee, Cassar, O, 'tis true : 
 If then thy spirit look upon us now. 
 Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death. 
 To see thy Antony making his peace. 
 Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, * 
 
 Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse ? 
 Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, 
 Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, 
 It would become me better, than to close 
 In terms ot friendship with thine enemies. [hart ; 
 Pardon me, Julius! — Here wast thou bay'd, brave 
 Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand, 
 Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe, 
 O world ! thou wast the forest to this hart ; 
 And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. — 
 How like a dter, stricken by many princes. 
 Dost thou here lie ! 
 
 Cas. Mark Antony, — 
 
 Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cawsius : 
 
 The enemies of Cassar shall say this; 
 Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. 
 
 Cas, I blame you not for praising Caesar so; 
 But what compact mean you to have with us? 
 Will you be prick'd in number of our friends : 
 Or shall we on, and not depend on you ? [deed. 
 
 Ant. Therefore I took your hands ; but was, iu- 
 Sway d I'rom the point, by looking down on Cftisar 
 Friends am I with voir all, and love you all ; 
 Upon this hope, that you shall give me re^tsons, 
 VVIiy, and wherein, Caesar was dangerous. 
 
 Bru, Or else were this a savage spt-itacl<; : 
 
SCKXE 2. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 595 
 
 Our reasons are so full of good regard. 
 i'liist were you, Antony, the son oi' Caesar, 
 V'oii slioiild be satisfied. 
 
 Aitt. That's all I seek : 
 
 And am moreover suitor, that I may 
 Produce his body to the market-j^lace; 
 And in the pulpit, as becomes a irieDd, 
 Spi-ak in the order of his funeral. 
 
 Bru. You shall, Mark Antony. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, a word with you. — 
 
 Vou know not what you do ; Do not consent, 
 
 {Aside.) 
 That Antony speak in his funeral : 
 Know you how much tiie people may be mov'd 
 By that which he will utter ? 
 
 Bru. By your pardon ; — 
 
 r will myself into the pulpit first. 
 And shew the reason of our Caisar's death : 
 Wiiat Antony shall speak, I v/ill protest 
 lie speaks by leave and by permission; 
 And that we are contented, Cassar shall 
 Have all true rites, and lawful ceremonies. 
 It shall advantage more, than do us wron^. 
 
 Crts. I know not what may fall ; I like it not. 
 
 Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Ciesar's bodj'. 
 Yau shall not in your funeral speech blame ns, 
 nut speak all good you can devise of Cassar ; 
 And say you do 't by permission ; 
 Else shall you not have any hand at all 
 About his funeral : And you shall speak 
 In the same pulpit whereto I am going. 
 After my speech is ended. 
 
 Ant. Be it so ; 
 
 I do desire no more. 
 
 Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us. 
 
 [Exeunt all but AiHony. 
 
 Ant. O pardon me, tliou piece of bleeding earth, 
 That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ! 
 Thou art the ruins of the noblest man, 
 That ever lived in the tide of times. 
 Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! 
 Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — 
 Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, 
 To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue ; — 
 A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 
 L>oniestic fury, and fierce civil strife. 
 Shall cumber all the parts of Italy : 
 Blood and destruction shall be so in use. 
 And dreadful objects so familiar, 
 'I'hat mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
 Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; 
 All pity choak'd with custom of fell deed : 
 And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
 With Ate by his side, come hot from hell. 
 Shall ill these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
 Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war ; 
 That this (bul deed shall smell above the earth 
 With carrion men, groaning for burial. 
 
 Etiier a Servant. 
 
 Vou serve Octavius Caesar, do you not ? 
 
 Serv. I do, Mark Antony. 
 
 Ant. Csesar did write for him to come to Rome. 
 
 Serv, He did receive his letters, and is coming : 
 And bid me say to you by word of mouth, — 
 O Caesar I — [Seeing the bodtj.) 
 
 Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. 
 Passion, 1 see, is catching ; for mine eyes. 
 Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine. 
 Began to water. Is thy master coming? [Rome. 
 
 Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues of 
 
 Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him what 
 hath chanc'd : 
 Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, 
 No Rome of salety for Octavius yet; 
 Hie hence, and tell him .so. Yet, stay a while ; 
 Thou shall not back, till I have borne this corse 
 Into the market place : there shall I try. 
 In my oration, how the people take 
 The cruel issue of these bloody men ; 
 
 According to the which, thou shalt discourse 
 
 To young Octavius of the state of thiiios. 
 
 Lend me your hand. {Exeunt.^ ivith Ccesar's body. 
 
 Scene W.—The same. The Forum. 
 
 Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of 
 Citizens. 
 
 Cit. We will be satisfied ; let us be satisfied. 
 
 Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience, 
 friends. — 
 Cassius, go you into the other street. 
 And part the numbers. — 
 
 Those that will liear me speak, let them stay here; 
 Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; 
 And public reasons shall be rendered 
 Of Ciesar's death. 
 
 1 Cit. I will hear Brutus speak. 
 
 2 Cit. I will hear Cassius ; and compare thei 
 
 reasons. 
 When se^■erally we hear them rendered. 
 
 [Exit Cassius, with so7ne of the Citizens. 
 Brutus goes into the Rostrum. 
 
 3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended : Silence \ 
 Bru. Be patient till the last 
 
 Romans, coiintrynien, and lovers! hear me for my 
 cause ; and be siknt, that you may hear : believe 
 me for mine hnnos.r; and have respect to mine 
 honour, that you may believe : censure me in your 
 wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may the 
 better judge. If there be any in this assembly, 
 any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that 
 Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then 
 that friend demand why Brutus rose against C«sar, 
 this is my answer, — Not that 1 loved Caesai less, 
 but that I loved Rome more. Had you ratlier 
 Caesar were living, and die all slaves; than that 
 Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar 
 loved niP, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I 
 rejoice at it : as he was valiant, I honour him : 
 but, as he was ambitious, I slew him : There is 
 tears, for his love ; joy, for his fortune ; houoiir for 
 his valour; and -death, ibr his ambition. VVlio is 
 here so base, that would be a bondman? II' any, 
 speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so 
 rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; 
 for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that 
 will not love his country? If any, speak ; for him 
 have I offended. I pause for a reply. 
 
 Cit. None, Brutus, none. 
 
 (Several speaking at once.) 
 
 Bru. Then none have I offended. I have done no 
 more to Caesar, than yon should do to Brutus. The 
 question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol: his 
 glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor 
 his offences enforced, for which he sufl'ered death. 
 
 Enter Antony and others, with Ccesar's body. 
 Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, 
 who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive 
 the benefit of his dying, a place in the conmion- 
 wealth; As which of you shall not? With this I 
 depart; That, as I slew my best lover for the good 
 of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when 
 it shall please my country to need my death. 
 
 Cit. Live, Brutus, live ! live ! [house. 
 
 1 Cit. Bring him with triumph home unto his 
 
 2 Cit. Give him a statue with his ancestors. 
 
 3 Cit. Let him be Caesar, 
 
 4 Cit. Caesar's better parts 
 Shall now be crown'd in Brutus. 
 
 1 Cit. We'll bring him to his house with shouti 
 
 and clamours. 
 Bru. My countrymen, — 
 
 2 (-it. Peace ; silence ! Brutus speaks. 
 1 Cit. Peace, ho ! 
 
 Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, 
 And, for my sake, stay here with Antony : 
 Do grace to Csesar's corpse, and grace his speech 
 Tending to Caesar's glories ; which Mark Ar.touy 
 By our permission, is allow'd to make. 
 
596 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 I do entreat you, not a man depart, 
 Save I alone, till Antony have spuke. [Exit. 
 
 1 Cit. Stay, ho! and let ns hear Mark Antony. 
 
 3 Ctt. Let him go up into the pnblic chair; 
 We'll hear him : — Noble Antony, go up. 
 
 Ant. For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you. 
 
 4 Cit. What does he say of Brutus? 
 
 3 Cit. He says, for Brutus' sake, 
 He finds himself beholden to us all. 
 
 4 Cit. 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. 
 
 1 Cit. This Caesar was a tyrant. 
 
 3 Cit. Nay, that's certain : 
 
 We aie bless'd, that Rome is rid of him. 
 
 2 Cit. Peace ; let us hear what Antony can say. 
 Ant. You gentle Romans, — 
 
 Cit. Peace, ho ! let ns hear him. 
 
 'Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your 
 ears; 
 I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 The evil, (hat men do, lives alter them; 
 The frond is oft interred with their bones ; 
 So let it be with Csesar. The noble Brutus 
 Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious : 
 If it were so, it was a grievous fault; 
 And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. 
 Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 
 (For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
 So are they all ; all honourable men ;) 
 Come I to speak in Csesar's funeral. 
 He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
 But Bi utus says, he was ambition* ; 
 And Bnitns is an honourable man. 
 He halh brought many captives home to Rome, 
 Whose ransoms did the general cotters fill: 
 Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 
 When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; 
 Ambition shonld be made of sterner stuff: 
 Yet Brutus s lys, he was ambitious; 
 And Brutus is an honourable man. 
 You ail did see, that o.i the Lupercal, 
 I thrioe presented him a kingly crown, 
 Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? 
 Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 
 And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
 I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
 But here I am to speak what I do know 
 You all did love him once, not without cause; 
 What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 
 
 judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 
 And men have lost their reason I — Bear with me; 
 My heart is in the collin there with Csesar, 
 
 And I must panst^, till it come back to me. 
 
 1 Cit. Metiiinks, there is nuich reason in his 
 
 sayings. 
 
 2 Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter, 
 Caesar has had great wroi;g. 
 
 3 Cit. Has he, masters ? 
 
 1 fear, there will a worse come in his place. 
 
 4 Cit. Mark'd ye his words ? He would not take 
 
 the crown ; 
 Therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitious. 
 
 1 Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 
 
 2 Cit. Poor soul I his eyes are red as fire with 
 
 weeping. [Antony. 
 
 3 Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome, than 
 
 4 Cit. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. 
 Ant. But yesterday, the word of Cajsar might 
 
 Have stood against thv world : now lies he there. 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 masters! if I were dispos'd to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
 Who, you all know, are honourable men : 
 
 I will not do them wrcmg; i rather choose 
 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 
 
 Than I will wrong 8i\ch honourable men. 
 
 But here's a parclmient, with the seal of Caesar, 
 
 I found •* in his oloset, 'tis his will : 
 
 Let bit the coinnKins hear tiiis testament, 
 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 
 
 And they w(u)Id go and kiss dead Caesar's woucdg^ 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
 And, dyit'g, mention it within their wills. 
 Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
 Unto tlieir issue. 
 
 4 Cit. Well hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony. 
 
 Cit. The will, the will ; we will hear Caesar's will. 
 
 Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not 
 read it; 
 It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you. 
 You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 
 And, being men, hearing the will ot Ctesar, 
 It will inflame yon, it will make you mad : 
 'Tis good you know not that yon are his heirs; 
 For if you should, O, what would come of it! 
 
 4 Cit. Read the will ; we will hear it, Antony: 
 You shall read us the will; Caesar's will. 
 
 Ant. Will you be patient'^ Will you stay a while' 
 I have o'ershot myself, to tell^you of it. 
 I fear, I wrong the honourable men. 
 Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar: I do fear it. 
 
 4 Cit. They were traitors : Honourable men ! 
 
 Cit. The w ill ! the testament ! 
 
 2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: The will! 
 read the will ! 
 
 Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? 
 Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
 And let me shew you him that made the will. 
 Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? 
 
 Cit. Come down. 
 
 2 Cit Descend. [He comes down from the pulpit,) 
 
 3 Cit. Yon shall haie leave. 
 A Cit. A ring;. stand round. 
 
 1 Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the bo<ly 
 
 2 Cit. Room for Antony ; — most noble Antony. 
 Ant. Nay, press not so upon me ; stand far oiT. 
 Cit. Stand back ! room ! bear back ! 
 
 Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them tiovr- 
 Yon all do know this niantle : I remember 
 The first time ever Caesar put in on ; 
 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; 
 That day he overcame the Nervii : — 
 Look ! in this place ran Cassias' dagger through: 
 See, what a rent the envious Casca made : 
 Through this, the v/ell beloved Brutus stabb'd; 
 And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood ol Csesar follow'd it ; 
 As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 
 If Brutns so unkindly knock'd, or no; 
 For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel :_ 
 Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him! 
 Thi.s was the most nnkindest cut of all : 
 For when the jioble Caesar saw him stab, 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 
 Quite vanqiiish'd him : then burst his mighty heart; 
 And, in his mantle mufiiing up his face. 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statue. 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
 O what a fall was there, my coimtrymen ! 
 Then I, and yon, and all of us fell down, 
 Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 
 O. now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel 
 The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. 
 Kmd souls, wliat, weep you, when you but behold 
 Our Csesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, 
 Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. 
 
 1 Cit. O piteous .spectacle! 
 
 2 Cit. O noble Caesar! 
 
 3 Cit. O wolul day! 
 
 4 Cit. O traitors, villains! 
 
 1 Cit, O most bloody sight ! 
 
 2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about,— 
 seek,— burn,— fire,— kill,— slay!— let not a traitor 
 
 Ant. Stay, countrymen. [''ve. 
 
 1 Cit. Peace there :— Hear the noble Antony. 
 
 2 Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, well die 
 
 with him. ^ . ^ ■ , x •• 
 
 Ant. Good friends, swee:t fnertis let me not sUi 
 
 you up 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 597 
 
 To such a sadden flood of mutiny. 
 
 Tliey, that liave done this deed, are honourable; 
 
 Whnt private griefs (hey have, alas, 1 know not, 
 
 That made iJieui do it ; tliey are wise and honourable. 
 
 And will, no doubt, witii reasons answer yon. 
 
 I roine not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 
 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is : 
 
 Kut, as you know we all, a plain blunt man, 
 
 'i'hat love my iriend; and tliat they know full well 
 
 I'hat gave me public leave to speak of him. 
 
 For 1 have neither wit. nor words, nor worth, 
 
 Action, nor utterance, mu" the power of speech, 
 
 To stir men's blood : I only speak ri^ht on; 
 
 I tell you that, which you yourselves do know ; 
 
 Shew you sweet Csesar's wounds, jjoor, poor dumb 
 
 mouths. 
 And bid tlveni speak for me: But were I Brutus, 
 And Brutus Antony, (lieie were an Antiuiy 
 Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 Sn e\e<y wound of Cassar, tliat should ino\e 
 'i'he stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
 Cit. We'll mutiny. 
 
 1 ViL We'll burn the house of Brutus. 
 
 3 CiL Away then, come, seek the conspiratorfs. 
 
 Ant. Yet hear me, counti ymec ; yet hear me speak. 
 
 Vit. Peace, iio ! Hear Antony, most noble Antony. 
 
 Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know not 
 what : 
 Wherein hath Caasar thus deserv'd your loves? 
 Alas! you know not: — I must tell you then: 
 You lia\e forgot the will I told you oi'. 
 
 Cit. Most true ; — the will ; — let's stay, and hear 
 the will. 
 
 Ani. Here is the will, and under Csesar's seal. 
 To every Roman citizen he gires, 
 To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. 
 
 2 Cit. Most noble Caesar! — we'll revenge his 
 
 dealh. 
 
 3 Cii. O royal Caesar! 
 
 Ant. Hear me with patience. 
 
 Cit. Peace, ho : 
 
 Ani Moreover, h? hath left you id\ his walks. 
 His pii\ate arbours, and new-planted orchards. 
 On this side Tyber; he hath left them you. 
 And to your heirs for e\er; common pleasures, 
 To walk abroad, and recreate yourseUes. 
 Here was a CaKsar: When comes such another? 
 
 1 Cii. Never, never; — Come, away, away: 
 Wi''ll burn his body in the holy place. 
 And with the brands fiie tlie traitors' houses. 
 Take up the body. 
 
 ■2 Cit. Go, let. h fire. 
 
 3 Cit. Pluck down benches. 
 
 4 Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. 
 
 [Exeunt Citizens with the body. 
 Ant. Now let it wo. k: Mischief, thou artatbot. 
 Take thou what course thou wilt! — How now, 
 fellow 'i 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. 
 Ant. Where is he ■' 
 
 Serv. He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. 
 Ant. And tiiitiier will I straight to visit him : 
 He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry. 
 And in this mood will give us any thing. 
 
 Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius 
 Are rid like ntadmen lhrou:^li the gates of Rome. 
 
 Ant. Belike, they had some notice of tiie people, 
 How 1 had inov'd them. Bring me to Octavius. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene HI. — T/w Same. A Street. 
 Enter Cinna, t/ie Poet. 
 
 Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feast with Caesar, 
 And things unluckily charge my fantasy: 
 I have no will to wander forth of doors, 
 Yet something leads me forth. 
 
 Enter Citizens. 
 
 1 Cit. What IS your name? 
 
 2 Cit. Whither are yon going? 
 
 3 Cit. Where do you dwell ? 
 
 4 Cit. Are you a nmrried uian, or a bachelor? 
 
 2 Cit. Answer every man directly. 
 
 1 Cit. Ay, and briefly. 
 4 Cii. Ay, and wisely. 
 
 3 Cit. Ay, and truly, yon were best. 
 
 Cin. What is my name ? Whither am I going ? 
 W here do I dwell ? Am I a married man, or a ba- 
 chelor? Then to answer every man directly, and 
 briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely I say, 1 am a ba- 
 chelor. 
 
 2 Cit. That's as much as to say, they are fools that 
 marry:— You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. 
 Proceed : directly. 
 
 Cin. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. 
 
 1 Cit. As a friend, or an enemy ? 
 Cin. As a friend. 
 
 2 Cit. That matter is answered directly. 
 
 4 Cit. For your dwelling, — briefly. 
 Cin Briefly I dwell by the Capitol. 
 
 3 Cii. Your name, sir, truly. 
 Ci7i. Truly, my name is Ciima. 
 
 1 Cd. Tear hi(n to pieces, he's a conspirator. 
 Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet, 
 
 4 Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his 
 bad verses. 
 
 Cin. I am not Cinna the conspirator. 
 
 2 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck 
 but hi.s name out of his heart, and turn him going. 
 
 3 Cit. Tear him, tear him. Come, brands, ho! 
 fire-brands. To Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all. 
 Some to Decius' house, and some to Casca's ; some 
 to Ligarius' : away ; go. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — T/te same. A Room in Antony's House. 
 
 Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus, seated al 
 
 a table. 
 
 Ant. These many then shall die ; their names are 
 prick'd. [Lepidus? 
 
 Oct. \our brother too must die; Consent you, 
 
 hep. I do consent 
 
 Oct. Prick him down, Antony. 
 
 hep. Upon condition Piiblius shall not live. 
 Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. [him. 
 
 Ant. He shall not live ; look, with a spot I damn 
 But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house ; 
 Fetch the will hither, and we determine. 
 How to cut ofl' some charge in legacies. 
 
 hep. What, shall I find you here ? 
 
 Oct. Or here, or at 
 
 The Capitol. [Exit hepidus. 
 
 Ant. This a slight unmeritable man. 
 Meet to be sent on errands : Is it fit. 
 The three-fold world divided, he should stand 
 One of the three to share it ? 
 
 Oct. So you thought him ; 
 
 And took hi.s voice who should be prick'd to die 
 In our black sentence and proscription. 
 
 Ant. Octavius, I' have seen more days than you- 
 And though we lay these honours on this man, 
 'J'o ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads. 
 He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold. 
 To groan and sweat under the business, 
 Either le i or driven, a'? we point the way; 
 And having brought our treasure where we will. 
 Then take we down his load, and turn him off, 
 Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears. 
 And graze in common. 
 
 Oct. You may do your will ; 
 
 But he's a tried and valiant soldier. 
 
 Ant. So is my horse, Octavius ; and, for that, 
 I do appoint him store of provender. 
 It is a creature that I teach to tight. 
 To wind, to stop, to run directly on ; 
 His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. 
 And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so ; 
 He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth : 
 
598 
 
 JULIUS CESAR. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 A barren-spirited fellow ; one that feeds 
 
 Ou objects, arts, and imitations ; 
 
 Which, out of use, and stal'd by other men, 
 
 Begin his fashion : Do not talk of hini. 
 
 But as a property. And now, Octaviiis, 
 
 Listen great things. — Brutus and Cassius, 
 
 Are levying powers : we must straight make head : 
 
 Therefore, let our alliance be combin'd. 
 
 Our best friends made, and our best means stretch'd 
 
 And let us presently go sit in council, [out ; 
 
 How covert matters may be best disclos'd. 
 
 And open perils surest answered. 
 
 Oct. Let us do so: for we are at the stake, 
 And bay'd about with many enemies , 
 And some, that smile, have in their hearts, I fear, 
 Millions of mischief. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Before Brutus' Tent, w the Camp 
 
 near Sardis. 
 Drum Enter Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius, and 
 
 Soldiers, TiTiNius and Pindarus, meeting 
 
 them. 
 
 Bru. Stand here. 
 
 Luc. Give the word, ho ! and stand. 
 
 Bru. What now, Lucilius? is Cassius near? 
 
 Luc. He is at hand ; and Pindarus is come 
 To do you salutation from his master. 
 
 {Pindarus gives a letter to Brutus.) 
 
 Bru. He greets me well. — Your master, Pindarus, 
 In his own change, or by ill officers. 
 Hath given me some worthy cause to wisli 
 Things dpne, undone : but, if he be at hand, 
 I shall be satisfied. 
 
 Pin. I do not doubt, 
 
 But that my noble master will appear. 
 Such as he is, full of regard, and honour. 
 
 Bru. He is not doubted. — A word. Lucilius : 
 How he receiv'd you, let me be resolv'd. 
 
 Luc. With courtesy, and with respect enough ; 
 But tot with such familiar instances. 
 Nor with such free and friendly conference. 
 As he hath us'd of old, 
 
 Bru. Thou hast describ'd 
 
 A hot friend cooling: Ever note, Lucilius, 
 When love begins to sicken and decay. 
 It useth an enforced ceremony. 
 There are no tricks in plain and simple faith : 
 But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, 
 Make gallant shew and promise of their mettle : 
 But, when they should endure the bloody spor. 
 They fall their crests^, and, like deceitful jades. 
 Sink in the trial. Comes his army on ? [ter'd ; 
 
 Luc. They mean this night in Sardis to be quar- 
 The greater part, the horse in general, 
 Are come with Cassius. [March within.) 
 
 Bru. Hark, be is aniv'd :'— 
 
 March gently on to meet him. 
 
 Enter Cassius and Soldiers. 
 
 Cas. Stand, ho! 
 
 Bru. Stand, ho! Speak the word along. 
 
 Within. Stand. 
 
 Within. Stand. 
 
 Within. Stand. 
 
 Cas. Most noble brother, you have done me 
 wrong. [enemies '{ 
 
 Bru. Judge me, yoii gods! Wrong I mine 
 And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother? 
 
 Cas. Brutus, tliis sober form of yours hides 
 And wiien you do them — [wrongs; 
 
 Bru. Cassius, be content, 
 
 Speak your griefs softly, — I do know you well ; — 
 Before the eyes of both our armies here, 
 V\ hich should perceive nothing but love from us. 
 Let us not wrangle : Bid them move away : 
 Then ill my teut, Cassius, enlarge jour griefs. 
 And I will give you audience. 
 
 /-'««. Pindarus, 
 
 Bid our commanders lead their charges off 
 A little Irom this ground. 
 
 Bru. Lucilius, do tlie like'- and let no man 
 
 Come to our tent, till we Imve done our conference. 
 Let Lucius aud Titiniiis guard our door. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Within the Teiit of Brutus. 
 
 Lucius and Titinius at some distance from it. 
 
 Enter Brutus and Cassius. 
 
 Cas, That you have wrong 'd me, doth appear ia 
 this: 
 You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, 
 For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
 Wherein, my letters, praying on his side. 
 Because I knew the man, were slighted oil'. 
 
 Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a 
 case. 
 
 Cas. In such a time as this, it 15 not meet 
 That every nice offence should bear his commeat 
 
 Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ; 
 To sell and niart your otfices for gold, 
 To undeserver.s. 
 
 Cas. I an itching palm ? 
 
 You know, that you are Brutus that speak this. 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption. 
 And chastisement doth thereibre hide his heaa. 
 
 Cas. Chastisement I [member! 
 
 Brit. Remember March, the ides of Maicli re- 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake i? 
 What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, 
 And not for justice? What, shall one of us, 
 That struck the foremost man of ail this world. 
 But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honours. 
 For .so much trash, as may be grasped thus? — 
 I had rather he a dog, and bay the moon. 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, bay not me, 
 
 I'll not endure it: you forget yourself. 
 To hedge me in : I am a soldier, I, 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. > 
 
 Bru. Go to; you're Dot, Cassicta. 
 
 Cas. I am. 
 
 Bru. I say, you are not. 
 
 Cas. Urge me no more ; I shall forget myself; 
 Have mind upon your health, tempt me no turtber. 
 
 Bru. \ way, slight man! 
 
 Cas. Is't possible ? 
 
 Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 
 Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
 Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares? 
 
 Cas. O ye god.s! ye gods! Must I endure all this? 
 
 Bni. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud 
 heart break ; 
 Go, shew your slaves how choleric yon are, 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? 
 Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch 
 Under your testy humour? By the gods, 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen. 
 Though it do split you ; i'or, from this day forth, 
 I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter. 
 When you are waspish. 
 
 Cas. Is it come to this ? 
 
 Bru. You say, you are a better soldier: 
 Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, 
 And it shall please nie well: For mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, 
 1 said, an elder soldier, not a better: (Brutus; 
 
 Did I say better ? 
 
 Bru. If you did, I care not 
 
 Cas. When Caesar liv'd, he durst not thus have 
 mov'd me. [him. 
 
 Bru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have tempted 
 
 Cas. I durst not? 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What? durst not tempt him? 
 
 Bru. For your hfe yon durst not. 
 
SCENK 3. 
 
 JULIUS CxESAR. 
 
 599 
 
 Cas. Do not presume too rouch upon ray love: 
 1 may do that I shall be sorry for. (foe 
 
 Bru. You have done that, you should be sorry 
 'I here is no terror, Cassiiis, in jour threats ; 
 I' or 1 am arm'd so strong iu honesty, 
 'i'lii.t they pass by mc as the idle wind, 
 \\ l.ich 1 respect not. I did send to yoii 
 !•' r certain sums ol'gold, which you deny'd i7ie ; — 
 I'l r I can raise no money by vile means : 
 {}\ heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
 A iiil drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 S- 1' m the hard hands of peasants their vile tra.sli, 
 !'.> any indirection, i did send 
 'i\i you for gold to pay my legions, 
 W'i ich you denied me : \Vas that done like Cassius? 
 iS'K.uld 1 have answer'd Caius Cassius so ? 
 Wi en Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 I5i- ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
 D.v h him to pieces ! 
 
 Cas. I denied you not. 
 
 Bru. Vou did. 
 
 Cas. I did not : — he was but a fool. 
 
 That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath riv'd 
 
 my heart: 
 A friend should bear his friend's infirmities. 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
 
 Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru, I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap- 
 As huge as high Olympus. [pear 
 
 Cus. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come. 
 Revenge yourselves alone oa Cassius, 
 For Cassms is a-weary of the world : 
 Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ; 
 Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observ'd. 
 Set in a note-book, learn 'd and conn'd by rote, 
 'I'o cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
 My spirit from mine eyes I — There is my dagger, 
 And here my naked breast; within, a heart 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 
 If that thou be"st a Roman, take it forth ; 
 I that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
 Strike, as thou didst at Caesar ; tor, 1 know, 
 When tliou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him 
 Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. (better 
 
 Bru. Sheath your dagger : 
 
 Be angry wljen you will, it shall have scope ; 
 Do what you wid, dishonour shall be humour. 
 O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb. 
 That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
 Who, much enforced, shews a hasty spark. 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Cas. Hath Cassius liv'J 
 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him ? 
 
 Bru. When I spoke that, 1 was ill-temper'd too. 
 
 Cas. Do you r.onless so much? Give me your 
 
 Bru. And my heart too. [hand. 
 
 Cas. O Brutus!— 
 
 Bru. What's the matter ? 
 
 Cas. Have you not Inve enough to bear with me. 
 When that rash humour, which my mother gave me, 
 Makes me forgetful ? 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and, henceforth. 
 
 When yon are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 {Noise tvithin.) 
 
 Poet. {TT'ithin.) Let me go in to see the general ; 
 There is some grudge between them, 'tis not meet 
 They be alone. 
 
 Luc. {Within.') You shall not come to them. 
 
 Poet. {Within.) Nothing but death shall stay me. 
 
 Enter Poet. 
 
 Cas. How now? What's the matter ? [mean? 
 Poet. For shame, you generals; what do yi u 
 Love and be friends, as two such men should be ; 
 
 For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ye. 
 
 Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynic rhyme ! 
 
 Bru. Get you hence, sirrah ; saucy fellow, hence'. 
 
 Cas. Bear with him, Briitus ; 'tis hi.'* fashion. 
 
 Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his 
 time : 
 What should the wars do with these jigging fools? 
 Com|ianion, hence. 
 
 Cas. Away, away, be gone. 
 
 [Exit Poet 
 Enter LuciLius and Titinius. 
 
 Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders 
 Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. 
 
 Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala 
 with you 
 Immediately to us. \Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. 
 
 Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. 
 
 Cas. I did not think, you could have been so angry. 
 
 Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. 
 
 Cas. Ot yuur philosophy you make uo use, 
 If you give place to accidental evils. 
 
 Bru, No man bears sorrow better: — Portia is 
 
 Cas. Ha! Portia? (dead 
 
 Bru. She is dead. 
 
 Cas. How 'cap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so !— 
 
 insupportable and touching loss ! — 
 Upon wliat sickness ? 
 
 Bru. Impatient of my absence ; 
 
 And grief, that young Ottavius with Mark Antony 
 Have made themselves so strong; — for with he* 
 
 death 
 That tidings came; — W^iih this slie fell distract, 
 And, her attendants absent, svvallow'd fire. 
 
 Cas. And died so ? 
 
 Bru. Even so. 
 
 Cas. O ye immortal gods! 
 
 Enter LucilJS, with wine and tapers. 
 
 Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl of 
 wine : — 
 In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. {Drinks.) 
 
 Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge :— 
 Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'ersvvtll the cup; 
 
 1 cannot drink too much of Brutiis" love. {Drinks. 
 
 Re-enter Titinius with Messala 
 
 Bru. Come in, Titinius : — Welcome, good Mes- 
 sala. — 
 Now sit we close about this taper here. 
 And call in question our necessities. 
 
 Cas. Portia, art thou gone? 
 
 Bru. No more, I pray you.— 
 
 Messala, I have here received letters, 
 Tliat young Octavius, and Mark Antony, 
 Come down upon as with a mighty power. 
 Bending their expedition toward Pliilippi. 
 
 Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. 
 
 Bru. With what addition? 
 
 Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry 
 Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, 
 Have put to death an hundred senators. 
 
 Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree 
 Mine speak of seventy senators, that died 
 By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. 
 
 Cas. Cicero one ? 
 
 Mes. Ay, Cicero is dead. 
 
 And by that order of proscription.^ 
 Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ? 
 
 Bru. No, Messala. 
 
 Mes. Nor nothing in yonr letters writ of her? 
 
 Bru. Nothing, Messala. 
 
 Mee, That, methioks, is strange. 
 
 Bru. Why ask you ? Hear you aught of her in 
 
 Mes. No, my lord. (yours? 
 
 Bru, Now, as you are a Roman, tell rue inie. 
 
 Mes. 'I'hcn like a Roman bear the truth I teli: 
 For certain she is dead, and by strange mauuef, 
 
 Bru. W hy, (arewell, Poitia.— VVe niusi die, 
 Messala •. 
 
600 
 
 JULIUS CiESAR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 With meditating that she must die once, 
 
 I have the patience to endure it now. fdure. 
 
 Mes. Even so great rnen great losses should en- 
 
 Cas. I have as much of this in art as you, 
 But yet mv nature could not bear it so. 
 
 Bru. VVell, to our work alive. What do you 
 think 
 Of marching to Philippi presently? 
 
 Cas. 1 do not think it good. 
 
 'Py-h, Your reason f 
 
 Cas. T\\\s it is : 
 
 Tis better, that the enemy seek us : 
 So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, 
 Doing himself offence ; whilst we. lying still, 
 Are full of rest, defence, and iiimbleness. 
 
 Bru. Oood reasons must, of force, give place to 
 better. 
 The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, 
 Do stand but in a forc'd affection ; 
 For they have grudg'd us contribution: 
 The enemy, marching along by them. 
 By tliem shall make a fuller number up. 
 Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encourag'd; 
 From which advantage shall we cut him off. 
 If at Philippi we do face him there. 
 These people at our back. 
 
 Crts. Hear me, good brother. 
 
 /Bru. Under your pardon. — You must note beside. 
 That we have tVy'd the utmost of our friends, 
 Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe : 
 The enemy increaseth every day ; 
 We, at the height, are rendy to decline. 
 There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 
 Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 
 On such a full sea are we now afloat: 
 And we must take the current when it serves, 
 Or lo?e our ventures. 
 
 Cas- Then, with your will, go on ; 
 
 We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, 
 And nature must obey necessity ; 
 Which we will niggard with a little^rest. 
 There is no more to say ? 
 
 Cas. No more. Good night ; 
 
 Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 
 
 Bru. Lucius, mv gown. {Exit Lucius.] Fare- 
 well, good iVlessala ; — 
 Good night, Titinius :— Noble, noble Casslus: 
 Oood night, and good repose. , , , , 
 
 (j((s^ .0 my dear brother! 
 
 This was an ill beginning of the night : 
 Never c<mie such division 'tween our souls ! 
 Let it not, Brutus. 
 
 Bnt. Every thing is well. 
 
 Cns. Good night, my lord. 
 
 j5/-„. Good night, good brother. 
 
 Tit g" Mess. Good night, lord Brutus. 
 
 ^rii. Farewell, everv one. 
 
 [Exeunt Cas. Tit. and Mes. 
 
 Re-enter Lucius, with the fjoivn. 
 Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? 
 
 Luc. Here in the tent. 
 
 Jif.u. Weat, thou speak'sf drowsily ? 
 
 Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. 
 Call Claudius, and some other of my men ; 
 I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. 
 
 Luc. VaiTO and Claudius ? 
 
 Enter Varro and Claudius. 
 
 Luc. Calls my lord ? 
 
 Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep; 
 It may be, I sliall raise you by and by 
 On biisin"ss to my brother Cassius. 
 
 Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch 
 your pleasure. 
 ' Bru. I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; 
 it may be, 1 shall otiiervvise bethiuk me. 
 
 Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; 
 I put it in the pocket of my gown. {Sertjanta lie 
 doion.) 
 
 Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me. 
 
 Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much for- 
 getful. 
 Canst thou hold up the heavy eyes awhile. 
 And touch thy instrument a strain or two? 
 
 Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you. 
 
 Bru. It does, my boy: 
 
 I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. 
 
 Luc. It is my duty, sir. 
 
 Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; 
 I know, young blood look for a time of rest. 
 
 Luc. I have slept, my lord, aliearlv. 
 
 Bru. It is vvell clone ; and thou shalt sleep again i 
 I will not hold thee long : if I do live, 
 I will be good to thee. (Music, and a Sony.) 
 This is a sleepy tune : — O murd'rons slumber ! 
 Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy. 
 That plays thee nuisic ? — Gentle knave, good night; 
 I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. 
 If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ; 
 I'll take it from thee ; and. good boy, good night. 
 Let me see. let me see ; — Is not the Iraf lurn'd down. 
 Where I leit reading? Here it is, J think. 
 
 (He sits down.) 
 
 Enter the Ghost of Casar. 
 How ill this taper burns I — Ha I wlio comes here? 
 I think it is the weakness of mine eyes. 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
 It comes upon me : — Art thou any thing ? 
 Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 
 That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare ? 
 Speak to me, what thou art. 
 
 Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus, 
 
 Bru. Why com'st thou ? 
 
 Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. Well; 
 Then I shall see thee again? 
 
 Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. (Ghost vanishes.) 
 
 Bru. Why, 1 will s e thee at Philippi thtn. — 
 Now I ha"e taken heart, thou vanishest : 
 III spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. — 
 Boy ! Lucius! — Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! — 
 Claudius! 
 
 Luc. The strings, my lord, are false. 
 
 Bru. He thinks, lie still is at his instrument. — 
 Lucius, awake ! 
 
 Luc. IVly lord ? 
 
 Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so 
 cry'dst out ? 
 
 Luc. My lord, 1 do not know that I did cry. 
 
 Bru. Yes, that thou didst : Didst thou see any 
 thing ? 
 
 Liic. Nothing, my lord, 
 
 Bru. Sleeu again, Lucius. — Sirrah, Claudius! 
 Fellow thou I awake ! 
 
 Var. J\'ly lord. 
 
 Ctau. My lord. 
 
 Bru. Why did vou so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? 
 
 Var §" Clau. I)id we, my lord ? 
 
 Bru. Ay; saw you any thing? 
 
 Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. 
 
 Clau. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassias; 
 Bid him set on his powers betimes before, 
 And we will follow. 
 
 Var §• Clau. It shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACTV. 
 Scene l.—The Plains of Philippi. 
 Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Armij. 
 Oct. Now, Anfonv, our hopes are answered : 
 You said, the enemy would not come down. 
 But keep the hills and uppt-r regions ; 
 It proves not so: tlieir bailies are at hand; 
 They mean to warn us at Pliilippi here 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 601 
 
 Answering before we do demand of them. 
 
 Ant. 'I'lit. 1 am in their bosoms, and 1 know 
 \Vlierefore they do it: they could be content 
 To visit other places ; and come down 
 With fearful bravpi7, tiiiiiking, by this face, 
 To fasten in our thoiiglits that they have courage ; 
 But 'tis not so. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Prepare you, generals : 
 
 The enemy comes on in gallant shew; 
 Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, 
 And sonietiiing to be done ininiedialely. 
 
 A"/. Octiuius, lead your battle sotlly o_ 
 Up<«)i Ibe left hand of the even field. 
 
 Oct, Upon the right hand I, keep thon the leit 
 
 Ant. \Vhy do you cross me in this exigent? 
 
 Oct. I do not cross you ; but I will do so. {March.) 
 
 Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army ; 
 LuciNius, 'I'niNius, Messala, and others. 
 
 Bru. They stand, and would have parley. 
 
 Cas. Stand fast, Titinins : We must out and talk. 
 
 Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign ot'battle ? 
 
 Ant. No, Cassar, we will answer on their charge. 
 Make forth, the gent-rals would have some words. 
 
 Oct. Stir not until the signal. (men? 
 
 Bru. VVo! ds befire blows : Is it so, country- 
 
 Oct. Not tiiat we love words better, as you do. 
 
 Bru. (ioud words are better than bad strokes, 
 Oclaviiis. [words: 
 
 Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good 
 Witness the hole yon made in Ccesar's heart, 
 Cr\ing, Long live! hail, Casar I 
 
 Cas. Antony, 
 
 The posture of your blow.'* are yet unknown ; 
 But for your words, they rob tlie Hybla bees, 
 And leave them honeyless. 
 
 Jut. Not stingless too. 
 
 Bru. O, yes, and soundless too; 
 For you h;ne stol'n their buzzing, Antony, 
 And, verv wisely, threat before you sting. 
 
 Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your vile 
 daggers 
 Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar: 
 V'ou shew'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like 
 
 hounds. 
 And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cassar's feet ; 
 W'hilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind, 
 Struck Cffisar on the neck. O flatterers ! 
 
 Cas. Flatterers ! — Now, Brutus, tiiank yourself: 
 This tongue had not offended so to-day. 
 If Cassius might have rul'd. 
 
 Oct. Conip, come, the cause : If arguing make 
 ns sweat. 
 The proof of it will turn to redder drops. 
 Look ; 
 
 ( draw a sword against conspirators ; 
 When think you that the sword goes up again ? — 
 Never, till Caesar's three and twenty wound.s 
 Be well a\eng'd ; or till another Ctesar 
 Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. 
 
 Bru. Caisar, thou can'st not die by traitors. 
 Unless thou bring'st them with thee. 
 
 Oct. So I hope ; 
 
 I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. 
 
 Bru. O, if tliou wert the noblest of thy strain. 
 Young man, thon conld'st not die niore honourable. 
 
 Cas. A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such ho- 
 nour, 
 Join'd with a masker and a reveller. 
 
 Ant- Old Cassius still ! 
 
 Oct. Come, Antony ; away. — 
 
 Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth : 
 If you dare figlit today, come to the field: 
 If iiot, ulien voii haie stomachs. 
 
 [F.veunt Octaviiis, Antuiiy. and their Army 
 
 Cas. \V hy now, blow, wind ; swell, billow; and 
 swim, b;irk ! 
 Thif stoMii is up, and all is on the hazard. 
 
 Bru. Ho! 
 
 Lucilius ; hark, a word with you. 
 
 Luc. My lord. 
 
 {Brutu.i and Lucilius converse apart) 
 
 Cas. Messala, — 
 
 Mes. What says my general ? 
 
 Cas. Messala, 
 
 This is my birth-day ; as this very day 
 Was Cassius born. Giv«; me thy haiid, Messala: 
 Be thou my witness, that, against my will, 
 As Pompey was, am I cotnpeli'd to set 
 Upon one battle all our liberties. 
 V'ou know, that I held Epicurus strong. 
 And his opinion : now I change my mind. 
 And partly credit things that do presage. 
 
 Who to Philippi here consorted us : 
 
 'J'his morning are they fled away, and gone ; 
 
 And in their steads, do ravens, crows, and kites. 
 
 Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us. 
 
 As we were sickly prey ; their shadows seem 
 
 A canopy most fatal, under which 
 
 Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. 
 
 Mes. Believe not so. 
 
 Cas. I but believe it partly ; 
 
 For I am fresh of spirit, and r'solv'd 
 •To meet all' perils very constantly. 
 
 Bru. Even so, Lucilius. 
 
 Cas. Now, most noble Brutas, 
 
 The gods to-day stand friendly ; that we may. 
 Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age ! 
 But, since the affairs of men rest still uncertain. 
 Let's reason with the worst that may befall. 
 If we do lose this battle, then is this 
 The very last time we snail sjieak together: 
 What are you then determined to do ? 
 
 Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy. 
 By which I did blame Cato for the death 
 VVhich he did give himself: — I know not how, 
 But I do find it cowardly and vile. 
 For fear of what might fall, so to prevent 
 The time of liiiefc— arming myself with patience. 
 To stray the providence of some high powers. 
 That govern us below. 
 
 Cas. Then, if we lose this battle. 
 
 You are contented to be led in triumph 
 Thorough the streets of Rome? iRoman, 
 
 Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble 
 That ever Brutus will go bound fo Rome : 
 He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
 Must end that work, the ides of March began ; 
 And whether we shall meet again, I know not. 
 Therefore our everlasting farewell take : — 
 For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! 
 If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; 
 If not, why thep this parting was well made. 
 
 Cas. For e\er, and for ever, farewell, Brutus! 
 If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed ; 
 If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made. 
 
 Bru. Why then, lead on. — O, that a man might 
 know 
 The end of this day's business, ere it come! 
 But it. sufficeth, that the day will end. 
 And then the end is known, — Come, ho ! away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene U.—The same. The Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala. 
 
 Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills 
 Unto the legions on the other side : 
 
 [Loud alarum.) 
 Let them set on at once ; for I perceive 
 But cold^t-uieanoiir in Octaviiis' \\ing, 
 And sudden push gives tiiem llie overtlirnw. 
 Ride, ride, Messala: let tliem all cunie down. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
603 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 S CENE III.— T^e same. Another Pari of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter Cassius and Titinius. 
 
 Cas. O, look, Titinius, look, the vilhius fly! 
 Myself have to mine own turii'd enemy: 
 This ensign here of mine was turning back; 
 ( slew (he coward, and did take it from him. 
 
 Tit. O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early ; 
 Who, having some advantage on Octavius, 
 Took it too eagerly; his soldiers iell to spoil, 
 Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd. 
 
 Enter PiNDARUS. 
 
 Piru Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; 
 Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord! 
 Fly theretJure, noble Cassius, fly far otf. 
 
 Cas. 'I'liis hill is far enough. — Look, look, Titinius ; 
 Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire ? 
 
 Tit. They are, my lord. 
 
 (Jas. Titinius, if thou lov'st me, 
 
 Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, 
 Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops. 
 And here again; that I may rest assur'd, 
 Whether youd' troops are friend or enemy. 
 
 Tit. I will be here again, even with a thought. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Cas. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill ; 
 My sight was ever thick; regard 'I'itinius, 
 And tell me what thou not'st about the field. — 
 
 [Exit Pindarus. 
 This day 1 breathed first: time is come round, 
 And where I did begin, there I shall end; 
 My life is run his compass. — Sirrah, what news? 
 
 P«M. {Ahove^ () my lord I 
 
 Cas. What news? 
 
 Pin. Titinius is 
 Enclosed round about with horsemen, that 
 Make to him on tlie spur; — Yet he spurs on. — 
 Now they are alntost on him; now, Titmius!— 
 Now some 'light : — O, he 'lights too : — he's ta'en : — 
 and, hark ! {Shout.) 
 
 They shout Kjr jrty. 
 
 Cas. Come down, behold no more. — 
 
 O, c<jward that I am, to live so loitg, 
 To see my best friend ta'en before my face ! 
 
 Enter Pindarus. 
 
 Come hither, sirrah: 
 In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; 
 And then I swore thee, saving of thy life. 
 That whatsoever I did bid thee do, [oath ! 
 
 Tliou should'st attempt it. Come now, keep thine 
 Now be a freeman; and, with this gooa sword. 
 That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. 
 Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts; 
 And, when my {-ACf. is cover'd, as 'tis nosv, 
 Guide thou Hie sword. — Cassar, thou art reveng'd, 
 Even with the sword that kill'd thee. [Dies.) 
 
 Pin. Si), I am free; yet would not so have been. 
 Durst I have done my will. Cassius! 
 Par I'rom this country Pindarus shall run, 
 Wheie never Kouiau shall take note of him. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter TiTiNius, toitk Messala. 
 
 Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius 
 Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power. 
 As Cassius' legions are by Antony. 
 
 Td. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. 
 
 Mes. W here did you leave him':" 
 
 T't- All disconsolate. 
 
 With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. 
 
 Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground ? 
 
 Ti(. He lies not like the living. O my heart! 
 
 Mes. Is not that he ? 
 
 '''/,• . . No, this was he, Messala, 
 
 But Cassius is n6 more. — O setting sun ! 
 As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night, 
 bo in his red blood Cassius' dav is set; 
 Ihe sun of ilome is set! Our d.iy is gone • 
 
 Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are 
 
 done ! 
 Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. 
 
 Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed 
 
 hateful error, melancholy's child ! 
 
 Why dost thou shew to the apt thoughts of men 
 The things that are not ? O error, soon conceiv'd. 
 Thou never coni'st unto a happy birth, 
 But kill'st tie mother that eugender'd thee. 
 
 Tit. What, Pindarus ! Where art thou, Pindarus? 
 
 Mes. Seek him, Titinius : whilst I go to meet 
 The noble Brutus, thrusting this report 
 Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it; 
 For piercing steel, and darts envenomed. 
 Shall be as welcome to the ears of Biulus, 
 As tidings of this sight. 
 
 Tit. Hie you, Messala, 
 
 And I will seek for Pindarus the while. 
 
 [Exit Messala, 
 Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? 
 Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they 
 Put on my brows this wreath of victory. 
 And bid me give't thee? Didst thou not hear their 
 
 shouts ? 
 Alas, thou hiist misconstrued every thing. 
 But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; 
 Thy Brutus hid me give it thee, and I 
 Will do his bidding. — Brutus, come apace. 
 And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. — 
 By your leave, gods: — This is a Roman's part: 
 Rome, Cassius' sword, and find Titiuius' heart 
 
 {Dies.) 
 
 Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Bruti;s, young 
 Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Luciuus. 
 
 Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie ? 
 
 Mes, Lo, yonder ; and Titinius mourniug it. 
 
 Bru. Titinius' face is upward. 
 
 Cato. He is slain. 
 
 Bi-u. O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet 
 Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords 
 In our own proper entrails. {how alarums.) 
 
 Cato. Brave 'ritiiiiusl 
 
 Look whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cj.ssiiis! 
 
 5rw. Are yet two Romans living such as these? — 
 The last of all the Romans, fare thee well' 
 It is impossible, that ever Rome 
 Sl)ouId breed thy fellow. — Friends, I owe more tears 
 To this dead man. than you shall see ine pay. — 
 
 1 shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. — 
 Come, therefore, and to Tliassos send his body; 
 His funeral shall not be in our camp. 
 
 Lest it discomfort us. — Lucilius, come ; — , 
 
 And come, young Cato ; let us to the field. — 
 L:ibe0; and Flavins, set our battles on : — 
 "i'is three o'clock ; and, Romans, yet ere night 
 We shall try fortune in a second fight. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Another Part of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter, fi'jhting, Soldiers of both Armies; 
 then Brutus, Cato, Luciuus, and others. 
 Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads ! 
 Cato. What bastard doth not ? Who will go with 
 me? 
 I will proclaim my name about the field :— 
 I am tlie son of Marcus Cato, ho! 
 A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend ; 
 I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! 
 
 {Charges ihe enemy.] 
 Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, 1 ; 
 Brutus, mv country's friend: know me f:>r Brutus. 
 (Exit, charging the enemy. Cato is over 
 powered, and falls. 
 Luc. O young and nobie Cato, art thou down? 
 Why, now thou diest as bravely as Tiliiiius; 
 And may'st be honoiir'd, being Cato's sun. 
 1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest. 
 Luc. Only I yield to die: 
 
 There is sn much that thou wilt kill me straight. 
 
 OjTering money.\ 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 603 
 
 Kill Bi'stij?, anr? be lionour'd in his death. 
 
 1 Sold. We must not. — A noble prisoner! 
 
 2 Sold. Room, ho! 'Jell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 
 1 iSold. I'll tell the news. — Here comes the ge- 
 neral : — 
 
 Enter Antony. 
 
 Brntus is ti'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Where is he ? 
 
 Luc. Safe, Antony ; Brutus is safe enough : 
 I dare assure thee, that no enemy 
 Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: 
 The gods defend him from so great a shame ! 
 When you do find him, or alive, or dead. 
 He will be found like Brutus, like himself. 
 
 Ant. This is not Brutus, friend ; but, I assure you, 
 A prize no less in worth ; keep this man safe. 
 Give hitn ail kindness: I had rather have 
 Such men my friends, than enemies. Go on. 
 And see wlie'r Brutus be alive, or dead: 
 And biing us word, unto Octavius' tent, 
 How every thing is chauc'd. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Another Part of the Field. 
 Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Cutus, Strato, and 
 
 VOLUMNIUS. 
 
 Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this 
 rock. 
 
 CU. Statilius shew'd the torch light; bnt, my lord. 
 He came not bark ; he is or ta'en, or slain. 
 
 Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus : Slaying is the word ; 
 It is a deed in fashion. Hark, thee, Clitus. — 
 
 ( Whispering.) 
 
 CU. What, I, my lord ? No, not for all tlie world. 
 
 Bt~u. Peace, tlieu, uo words. 
 
 Cii. I'd rather kill myself. 
 
 Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius ; ( Whispering niin.) 
 
 Dar. I do such a deed; 
 
 Cli. O, Dardanius! 
 
 Dar. O, Clitus ! 
 
 Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? 
 
 Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he meditates. 
 
 Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief^ 
 That it runs over even at his eyes. 
 
 Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. 
 
 Vol. What says my lord ? 
 
 Bru. Why this, Volumnius : 
 
 The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me 
 Two several times by night : at Sardis, once ; 
 And, this last night, here in Philippi' fields. 
 I know, my hour is come. 
 
 Vol. Not so, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. 
 Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes; 
 Our tnemies have beat us to the pit; 
 It is iiore worthy to leap iu ourselves. 
 Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, 
 Thou know'st, that we two went»to school together ; 
 Even for that our love olold, I pray thee, 
 Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. 
 
 Vol. Tliftt 8 not an oflice for a friend, my lord. 
 
 {^Alarum atill.) 
 
 Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no ia-7ying here. 
 
 Bru. Farewell to you ; — aud you ; — and you, Vo- 
 lumnius. — 
 Strato, thou hast been all thi.« while asleep; 
 Farewell to thee too, Strato. — Countryuien, 
 My heart doth joy, that yet, in ail my life, 
 I found no man, but he was true to me. 
 I shall have glory by this losing day, 
 More than Octavius, and Mark Antony, 
 By this vile conquest shall attain unto. 
 So, fare you well at once ; for Brutus' tongue 
 Hath almost ended his life's history : 
 Night hangs upon mine eyes ; my bones would rest. 
 That have but labour'd to attain this hour. 
 
 [Alarum. Cry within; Fly, fly, fly.) 
 
 Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. 
 
 Bru. _ Hence ; I will follow thee 
 
 [Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius 
 T pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord : 
 Thou art a fellow of a good respect ; 
 Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it 
 Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face. 
 While I do run upon it Wilt thou, Strato? 
 
 Stra. Give me your hand first : Fare you well, my 
 lord. 
 
 Bru. Farewell, good Strato. — Caesar, now be still ; 
 I kiU'd not thee with half so good a will. 
 
 [He runs on his sword, and dies.) 
 
 Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, 
 Messala, Lucilius, and their army. 
 
 Oct. What man is that ? [master ? 
 
 Mes. My master's man. — Strato, where is thy 
 
 Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala ; 
 The conquerors can but make a fire of him; 
 For Brutus only overcame himself, 
 And no man else hath honour by his death. 
 
 Luc. So Brutus should be found. — I thank thee, 
 Brutus, 
 That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true, 
 
 Oct, All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them. 
 Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me ? 
 
 Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to yon. 
 
 Oct. Do so, Messala. 
 
 Mes. How died my master, Strato? 
 
 Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on iL 
 
 Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee. 
 That did the latest service to my master. 
 
 Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all: 
 All tiie conspirators, save only he. 
 Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; 
 He, only, in a general honest thought. 
 And common good to all, raiide one of them. 
 His life was gentle ; and the elements 
 So niix'd in him, that Nature might stand np. 
 And say to all the world. This was a man! 
 • Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, 
 With all re.spect. and rites of burial. 
 Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie. 
 Most like a soldier, order'd honourably. — 
 So, call the tield to rest: aud let's away. 
 To part the glories of this hapjiy day. [Ejmnu. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the 
 rariety of incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to another, call the inuid forward without inler- 
 taissjon, from llie first act to the last. lUit the power of dellKhting is derived principally from tlie frequent changes 
 cf the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinKuish Cleopatra, no character is 
 verj- stron(!ly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desireil to tind, has discovered that the languaes 
 of Antony is, with great skill ami learning, made pompous and suoerb, according to his real practice. But I think 
 bis diction not distinguishable from tnat of otliers : the most lumid speech in tlie play is that which Caesar makea 
 to Oetavia 
 
 Tlie events, of which the principal are described according to history, are produced without any art of connec- 
 tion or care of disposiliou. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 M. ANTONY, 
 
 OCTAVIUS C^SAR, 
 
 M. EIVIIL LE.'IDUS, 
 
 SEXTUS POMPEIU.S. 
 
 DOMiriUS KNOUARBUS, 
 
 VENTtUIUS, 
 
 EllOS 
 
 SCAKL'S, 
 
 DEKCEI'AS, 
 
 1)1 MEfRIUS, 
 
 I'HILO, 
 
 MKCKNAS, 
 
 AGRIHPA, 
 
 DOLABELLA, 
 
 PROCULEIL'S, 
 
 THYKEUS, 
 
 GALLUS, 
 
 Triumvirs. 
 
 ' Friends of Antony. 
 
 4 
 
 ] 
 
 Friends of Ctesar. 
 
 MENAS. , 
 
 MEN EC RATES, ( Friends of Pompev. 
 
 VARKIUS, ' 
 
 TAURUS, Lieulenant general of Cernar. 
 
 CANIOIUS, Lieutenant general to Antony. 
 
 SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius's Army. 
 
 EUPHKONIliS, an Ambassador fmm Antony to Ctfsar, 
 
 ALEXAS, MARDIAN, SELEUCUS, and DIOMEDES 
 
 Attendants on Cleopatra. 
 A Soothsayer. 
 A Clown. 
 
 CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt. 
 
 OCTAVIA, Sister to Ctesar, and IVlfe to Antony. 
 
 CUARMIAN and IRAS, Attendants on Cleopatra. 
 
 Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Dispersed ; in several parts of the Roman Empire, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Demetrius and Piulo. 
 
 Phi. Nay, but tliis dotage of our general's 
 O'eilliws the measure : those liis goodly eyes. 
 That o'er the files and musters ot tlie uar 
 Have glow'd like plated iVIars, now bend, now turn, 
 The office and devotion of their view 
 U|ion a lawny front : his captain's heart. 
 Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst 
 The buckles on iiis breast, reneges all temper; 
 And is become the bellows, and the fan, 
 To cool a gijisy's lust. Look, where they come ! 
 
 Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with 
 their Trains : Eunuchs fanning her. 
 
 Take but good note, and you shall see in him 
 The triple pillar of the world transform'd 
 Into a strumpet's fool : behold and see. 
 
 Cleo. If it be love, indeed, tell me how much. 
 Ant. There's beggary in the love tiiat can be 
 
 reckon'd. 
 Cleo. I'll set a bourn, how far to be belov'd. 
 Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, 
 new earth. 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 
 Ait. News, my good lord, from Rome. 
 
 Ayti. Grates me : — The sum. 
 
 (■hu. Nay, hear them, Antony : 
 F ;'.!v':a, perchance, is angry : Or, who knows 
 M tiie scarce bearded Caesar have not sent 
 His powerful mandate to you. Do this, or this : 
 Take in that kinijdum, and franchise that; 
 Perform^, or else ivt; damn thee. 
 
 Ant. How, my love ! 
 
 Cleo, Perchance, — nay, and most like, 
 \ ou must not stay here longer, your dismission 
 Is come from Csesar; therefore hear it, .Antony. — 
 Where's Fnlvia's process ? Caesar's, I would sav"' — 
 
 Botli ?— ^ ■ 
 
 Call m the messengers. — As 1 am Eijvpt's queen, 
 Thou blushest, Antony ; and that blood 
 Is Caisar's Ixunager : else so thy ciieek pays shame, 
 When shrill long u'd Fulvia scolds. — The mes- 
 seng;ers. 
 
 Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt ! and the wide arch 
 Of the rang'd empire fall ! Here is my space ; 
 Kingdoms are clayn our dungy earth alike 
 Feeds beast as man : the nobleness of life 
 Is, to do thus ; when such a mutual pair, 
 
 {Embracing/.) 
 And such a twain can do't, in which, 1 bind. 
 On pain of punishment, the world to weet, 
 We stand up peerless. 
 
 Cleo. Excellent falsehood ! 
 
 Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? — 
 I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony 
 Will be himself. 
 
 Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. — 
 
 Now, for the love of Love, and her solt hours. 
 Let's not confound the time with conference harsh 
 'J'here's not a minute of our lives siiould stretch 
 Without some pleasure now : Wliat sport to-night? 
 
 Cleo. Hear the ambassadors. 
 
 Ant. Fy, wrangling queen I 
 
 VVhom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh. 
 To weep; whose every passion fully strives 
 To make itself, in thee, fair and aduiii'd ! 
 No messenger; but thine and all alone, [note 
 
 To-night, we"ll wander through the streets, and 
 The qualities of people. Come, my queen ; 
 Last night you did desire it : Speak not to ns. 
 
 [Exeunt Ant. and Cleop. with their Train. 
 
 Dem. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight '' 
 
 Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not .^r.tony. 
 He comes too short of that great property. 
 Which still should go with Antony. 
 
 Dem. I'm full sorry, 
 
 That he approves the common liar, who 
 Thus speaks of him at Rome : But I will hope 
 Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Another Room. 
 
 Enter Charmias, Iras,Alexas, andaSootlisayer, 
 
 Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any 
 thing Aiexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's 
 the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen ? 
 O, tiiat I knew this husband, which, you say, must 
 change his horns with garlands! 
 
 Alex. Soothsaver. 
 
 Sooth. Vour vv'iU ? _ [things ? 
 
 Char. Is this the man ? — Is't you, sif, that know 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 605 
 
 Sooth. In nature's iufinlte book of secrecy, 
 A little I can read. 
 
 Alex. Shew liini your hand. 
 
 Enter Enobarbus. 
 
 Eno. Bring in tlie banquet quickly; wine enougli, 
 Cleopatra's liealtli to drink. 
 
 Char. Good sir, give me good fortune. 
 
 Sooth. 1 make not, but foresee. 
 
 Char. Pray then, foresee me one. 
 
 Sooth. Vou sliall be yet far fairer than you are. 
 
 Char. He means, in flesh. 
 
 Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old. 
 
 Char. Wrinkles forbi,! ! 
 
 Alex. Vex not lii.s prescience ; be attentive. 
 
 Char. Hush! 
 
 Sooth. Vou shall be more beloving, than beloved. 
 
 Char. I had ratlier heat my liver with drinking. 
 
 Alex. Nay, hear him. 
 
 Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let 
 nie be married to three kings in a forenoon, and 
 widow them all : let me have a chikl at fifty, to 
 whom Herod of Jewry may do homage : find me 
 to marry me with Octavius Caesar : and companion 
 me with my mistress. 
 
 Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you 
 serve. (figs. 
 
 Char. O excellent! I love long life better than 
 
 Sooth. Vou have seen and proved a fairer former 
 fortune 
 Than that v. Iiicli is to approach. 
 
 Char, i hen, belike, my children shall have no 
 names: I'r'ytliee, how many boys and wenches must 
 I haie ? 
 
 Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, 
 And "i'eitile every wish, a million. 
 
 Char. Odt, fool ! I forgive thee for a witch. 
 
 Alex. Vou think, none but yotir sheets are privy 
 to your wishes. 
 
 Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. 
 
 Alex. \V ell know all our fortunes. 
 
 Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, 
 Bhall be — driuik to bed. [else. 
 
 Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing 
 
 Char. E\en as the o'erllowing Nilus presageth 
 famine. (say. 
 
 Iras. Oo, you wild bedfellow, you cannot sooth- 
 
 Char. N.iy, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prog- 
 nostication, 1 cannot scratch mine ear. — Pr'ythee, 
 tell her but a worky-day fortune. 
 
 Sooth. Y our fortunes are alike. 
 
 Iras. But how, but how? give me particulars. 
 
 Sooth. 1 have said. 
 
 fshe ? 
 
 Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than 
 
 Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune 
 better than I, where would you choose it? 
 
 Iras. Not in my husband's nose. 
 
 Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend ! 
 Alexas I — come, his fortune, his fortune. — O, let 
 him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I 
 beseech tliee ! And let her die too, and give him a 
 worse I and let worse follow worse, till the worst 
 of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a 
 cuckold ! Ciood Isis, hear me this prayer, though 
 thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, 
 1 beseech thee ! 
 
 Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear thaf ^orayer of 
 the people ! for, as it is a heart-breaking Co see a 
 hantlsome man loose- wived, so it is a deadij sorrow 
 to behold a foul knave uncuckolded ; Therefore, 
 dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accord- 
 ingly 1 
 
 Char. Amen. 
 
 Alex. Lo, now ! If it lay in their hands to make 
 ine a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, 
 but they'd do't. 
 
 Eno. Hush 1 here comes Antony. 
 
 C/uzr. Not he, the qneen. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra. 
 Cleo Saw you my lord '! 
 
 Eno. No, lady. 
 
 Cleo. W^as he not here? 
 
 Char. No, Aladam. [sudden. 
 
 Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth ; but on the 
 A Roman thought hath struck him. — Enobarbus,— 
 Eno. Madam. [.Mexas? 
 
 Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's 
 Alex. Here, madam, at your service. — IVly lord 
 approaches. 
 
 Enter Antony, with a Messenge and Attendants. 
 
 Cleo. We will not look upon him : Go with us. 
 [Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Alexas. 
 Iras, Charmian, Soothsayer, ana 
 Attendants. 
 
 Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. 
 
 Ant. Against my brother Lucius? 
 
 Mess. Ay : 
 But soon that war had end, and the time's state 
 Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainsi 
 
 Cajsar ; 
 Whose better issue in the war, from Italy, 
 Upon the first encounter, drave them. 
 
 Ant. Well, 
 
 What worst ? 
 
 Mess, The nature of bad news infects the teller. 
 
 Ant. When it concerns the fool, or coward.— 
 On: [tliHs: 
 
 Things, that are past, are done, with me. — "Tis 
 Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, 
 I hear him, as he flatter'd. 
 
 3Iess. Labienus 
 
 (Tl^his is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force 
 Extended Asia from Euphrates ; 
 His conquering baimer shook, from Syria 
 To Lvdia, and to Ionia ; 
 Whilst— 
 
 Ant. Antony, thou vvould'st say, — 
 
 Mess. O, my lord ! 
 
 Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general 
 tongue ; 
 Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome ; 
 Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase : and taunt my faults 
 With such full license, as both truth and malice 
 Have power to utier. O, then we bring forth weeds. 
 When our quick winds lie still ; and our ills told us. 
 Is as our earing. Fare thee well a- while. 
 
 Mess. At your noble pleasure. [E.xit. 
 
 Ant. From Slcyon hovv the news? Speak there. 
 
 1 Att. The man from Sicyon. — Js there such an 
 
 one i 
 
 2 Att. He stays upon your will. 
 
 Ant. Let him appear: — 
 
 These strong Egyptian fetters I must break. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 Or lose myself in dotage. — What are you ? 
 
 2 Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, is dead. 
 
 Ant. Where died she ? 
 
 2 Mess. In Sicyon : 
 Her length of sickness, with what else more serions 
 Iiiiporteth thee to know, this bears. {Gives a letter. 
 
 Ant. Forbear me. — 
 
 [Exit Messenger, 
 There's a great spirit gone ! Thus did I desire it : 
 What our contempts do often hurl from us, 
 VVe wish it ours again; the ])resent pleasure. 
 By revolution lowering, does become 
 The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone : 
 The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on. 
 I must from this enchanting queen break oB'; 
 Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, 
 My idleness doth hatch. — How now ! Enobarbus! 
 
 Enter Enobarbus. 
 
 Eno. What's your pleasure, sir ? 
 
 Ant. I must with haste from hence. 
 
 Eno. Why, then, we kill ail our women; We see 
 how mortal an unkindiiess is to them ; if they sufl'er 
 our departure, death's the word. 
 
606 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Ant. I must be gone. 
 
 Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die : 
 ft were pity to cast tliem away forootliiiiH:; thoiigli, 
 between tliem and a great c^iisp, tliey siionld be 
 esteemed nothint;. Cleo|iatra, catcliing but the least 
 noise of this, dies instantly ; I have seen her die 
 twenty times npon far poorer moment: I do think, 
 there is mettle in death, which commits some loving 
 act upon her, she hath such celerity in dying. 
 
 Ant. She is cnnning past man's thonglit. 
 
 Eno. Alack, sir, no ; her passions are made of 
 nothing but tiie finest part of pure love : We cannot 
 call her winds and waters, sighs and tears : they are 
 greater storms and tempests than almanacks can 
 report: This caimot be cunnin^^ in her, if it be, she 
 makes a shower of rain as well as .Jove. 
 
 Ant. 'VVoidd I had never seen her ! 
 
 Eno. O, sir, yon had then left unseen a wonderful 
 piece of work ; which not to have been blessed withal, 
 would have discredited your travel. 
 
 Ant. Fulvia is dead. ^ 
 
 Eno. Sir? 
 
 Ant. Fulvia is dead. 
 
 Eno- Fulvia? 
 
 Ant. Df-ad. 
 
 E710. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. 
 When it pleaseth tlieir deities to take the wife of a 
 man from hitn, it sliews to man the tailors of the 
 earth ; comforting therein, that when old robes are 
 worn out, there are members to make new. If there 
 w^re no more women '>nt Fulvia, then had you 
 indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented : this grief 
 is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings 
 forth a new petticoat: — and, indeed, the tears live 
 in an onion, that should water this sorrow. 
 
 Ant. 'I'lie business she hath broached in the state, 
 Cannot endure my absence. 
 
 Eno. And the business yon have broached here 
 cannot be witliout vou ; especially that of Cleopa- 
 tra's, which wholly depends on yunr alx>de. 
 
 Ant. No nwre light ansv/ers. Let our oflScers 
 Have notice what we puriwse. I shall break 
 The cause of our expedience to the queen. 
 And get her love to part. For not alone 
 The (ieatli of Fu!\ia, with more urgent touches, 
 Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too 
 Of many of our contriving friends in Rome 
 Petition us at home ; Sextus Pompeius 
 Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands 
 The empire of the sea : our slippery people 
 (Wiiose love is never link'd to the deserver. 
 Till liis deserts are past,) begin to throw 
 Pompey the great, and all his dignities, 
 Upon his son ; who. high in name and power, 
 Higher than both ia blood and life, stands up 
 For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, 
 Th« .sides o'the world may danger : Much is breeding, 
 Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life. 
 And not a serpent poison. Say our pleasure, 
 To such whose place is under us, requires 
 Onr quick remove from hence. 
 
 Eno. I shall do't. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, 
 and Alexas. 
 
 Cleo. Where is he ? 
 
 Char, I did not see him since. 
 
 Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he 
 does : — 
 I did not send you : — If ycMi find him sad, 
 Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, rejwrt 
 That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return. 
 
 [Exit Alexas. 
 
 Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love liim 
 You do not hold the method to enforce [dearly. 
 
 The like from him, 
 
 Cleo. VVhat should I do, I do not ? 
 
 Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in 
 notliing. ■ [liiin. 
 
 Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool ; the way to lose 
 
 Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear-, 
 111 time we luile tiiat wiiicli we often fear. 
 
 Enter Antonv. 
 But here comes Antony. 
 
 Cleo. I am sink, and sullen. 
 
 Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,— 
 
 Cleo. Help Mie away, dear Charmian, I shall fall ; 
 It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature 
 Will not sustain it. 
 
 Ant. Now, my dearest queen, — 
 
 Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. 
 
 Ant. What's the niatt.'r? 
 
 Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some good 
 news. 
 What says the married womanj" — You may go ; 
 'Would she had never ^iven you leave to come ! 
 Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here, 
 I have no power upon you ; her's you are. 
 
 Ant. The gods best know, — 
 
 Cleo. O, never was there queen 
 
 So mightly betray'd ! Yet, at the first, 
 I saw the treasons planted. 
 
 Ant. Cleopatra, — [true, 
 
 Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and 
 Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, 
 Who have been false to l"'ulvia! Riotous madness, 
 To be entangled with those month-made vows. 
 Which break themselves in s\. earing I 
 
 Ant. .Most sweet queen, — 
 
 Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, 
 But by farewell, and f;o : when you sued staying. 
 Then was the time for words : No going then ; — 
 Eternity was in our li|>s, and eyes ; 
 Bliss in our brow's bent ; none our parts so poor, 
 But was a race of heaven : They ai-e so still. 
 Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, 
 Art turn'd the greatest liar. 
 
 Ant. How now, I.idy ! 
 
 Cleo. I would, I had thy inches ; thou should'st 
 There were a heitrt in Egypt, [know. 
 
 Ant. Hear me, queen: 
 
 The strong necessity of time coniiuands 
 Our services a-while ; but my lull iieait 
 Remains in use with you. Our Itdy 
 Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus I'onipeius 
 Makes his approaches to the port of Rome ; 
 Equality of two domestic powers |streiii;th, 
 
 Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, gruwn to 
 Are newly grown to lo\e : The condemu'd Pompey, 
 Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace 
 into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd 
 Upon the present state, whose numbers Uireaten; 
 And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge 
 By any desiierate ciiange : My more particular. 
 And that which most with you should safe my going, 
 Is Fulvia's death. 
 
 Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me 
 freedom. 
 It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die ? 
 
 Ant. Slie's dead, my queen : 
 Lo<jk here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read 
 TUe garboils she awak'd : at the last, best: 
 See, when, and where she died. 
 
 Cleo. O moat false love: 
 
 Whf re be the sacred vials thou should'st fill 
 Will sorrowful water i Now I see, 1 see, 
 In Fnlvias dentJi, how mine receiv'd shall be. 
 
 Ant. Q larrel no more, but be prepar'd to knOW 
 The purposes I bear: which are, or cease, 
 As you shall give the advice: Now, by tlie fire 
 'I'hat quickens Niltis' slime, I «o from lience 
 Thy soldier, servant ; making peace, or war. 
 As thou atiect'st. 
 
 Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, coowjiw 
 
 But Irt it be. — I am quickly ill, and well: 
 So Antony loves. 
 
 Ant. My precious queen, forbear; 
 
 And uive true evidence to hia love, which standa 
 An honourable trial. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 GOT 
 
 CUo. So Fiilvia told me. 
 
 I pr'ythce tnrn aside, and weep for her ; 
 Then bid adieu to nie, and say, the tears 
 fielong to Eg\'pt : Good now, play one scene 
 Of excellent dissembling ; and let it look 
 Like perfect honour. 
 
 Ant. You'll heat my blood ; no more. 
 
 Cleo. You can do better yet ; but this is meetly. 
 
 Ant. Now, by my sword, — 
 
 Cleo, And target, — Still he mends ; 
 
 But tt)is is not the best : Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, 
 How this Herculean Roman does become 
 The carriage of his chafe. 
 
 Ant. I'll leave you, lady. 
 
 Cleo. Courteons lord, one word. 
 Sir, you and I must part, — but tiiat'snot it ; 
 Sir, you and I have lov'd, — but there's not it; 
 That you know well : Something it is I would, — 
 O, uiy oblivion is a very Antony, 
 A.nd 1 am all forgotten. 
 
 Ant. But that your royalty 
 
 Holds idleness your subject, I should take you 
 « For idleness itself. 
 
 Cleo. 'Tis sweating labour. 
 
 To bear such idleness so near the heart 
 As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me ; 
 Since mv becomings kill me, wlien they do not 
 Eye yvefl to you : Your honour calls you hence ; 
 '1 lierefore be deaf to my uupitied folly, 
 And all the gods go with you ! upon your sword 
 Sit huirel'd victory ! and smooth success 
 He strew'd before your feet ! 
 
 Ant. Let us go. Come ; 
 
 Our separation so abides, and flies, 
 That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, 
 And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. 
 Away. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScE^'E IV. — Rome, 
 
 An Apartment in Casar's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Octavius C^sar, Lepidus, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Cas.Yon may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know. 
 It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate 
 One great competitor: from Alexandria 
 'I'his is the news ; he tishes, drinks, and wastes 
 Tlie lamps of night in revel : is not more manlike 
 Than Cleopatra ; nor the queen of Ptolemy 
 More womanly than he : hardly gave audience, or 
 V^ouchsaf 'd to think he had partners : You sliall find 
 A man, who is tlie abstract of all faults [there 
 
 That all men follow. 
 
 Lep. I must not think, there are 
 
 Rvils enough to darken all his goodness : 
 His faidts, in him, seem as the spots of heaven. 
 More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary. 
 Rather than purchas'd ; what he cannot change. 
 Than what he chooses. 
 
 Cas, You are t<K> indulgent : Let us grant, it is not 
 Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy ; 
 To give a kingdom for a mirth ; to sit 
 And keep the turn of tippling with a slave ; 
 To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buflet 
 With knaves, that smell of sweat : say, this becomes 
 (As his c()in|)Osure must be n»re indeed, [him. 
 
 Whom these tliingscannot blemish), yet must Antony 
 No way excuse his soils, when we do bear 
 St great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd 
 His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
 Full siirleils, and the dryness of his bones, 
 C;dl on him ftir't: but to confound such time, 
 I'hiit drums him from his sport, and speak as loud 
 As his own state, and ours, — 'tis to be chid 
 As we rate boys ; who. being mature in knowledge, 
 Pa«n their experience to their present pleasure, 
 And so rebel to judgment. 
 
 Enter a Messenger, 
 
 Lep. Here's more news. 
 
 (l.'Kss.Thy biddings have been done;and every hour, 
 
 Most noble Cassar, shalt thou have report 
 How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; 
 And it appears, he is belov'd of tliose 
 'I'hat only have fear'd Caesar : to the ports 
 The discontents repair, and men's reports 
 Give him much wrong'd. 
 
 Cees. I should have known no less :— 
 
 It hath been taught us from the prinial state. 
 That he, which is, was wish'd, until he ^vere; 
 And the ebbd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love 
 Comesdear'd, by being lack'd. This common body. 
 Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream. 
 Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide. 
 To rot itself with motion. 
 
 3Tess. Caesar, I bring thee word, 
 
 Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates. 
 Make the sea serve them ; which the y ear and wound 
 With keels of every kind; Many hot inroads 
 They make in Italy ; the borders maritime ^ 
 
 Lack blood to think ou't, and flush youth revolt 
 No vessel can peep forlh, but 'tis as soon 
 'Taken as seen , for Pompey's name strikes more, 
 'Than could his war resisted. 
 
 Ctes. Antony, 
 
 Leave thy lascivious wassels. Wlien thou once 
 Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 
 Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, and thy heel 
 Did famine follow ; whom thou ibught'st against. 
 Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
 Than savages could sufl'er : Thou didst drink 
 The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle [deign 
 Which beasts would cough at : thy palate then did 
 The roughest berry on the rudest hedge , 
 Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets. 
 The barks of trees thoii browsed'st ; on the Alps, 
 It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh, 
 Which some did die to look on : And all this 
 (It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,) 
 VV'as borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
 So much as lauk'd not. 
 
 Lep. It is pity of him. 
 
 Cas. Let his shames quickly 
 Drive him to Rome : 'Tis time we twain 
 Did shew ourselves i' the field ; and, to that end. 
 Assemble we immediate council : Pompey 
 Thrives in our idleness. 
 
 Lep. To-morrow, Cassar, 
 
 I shall be furnis'h to inform 7ou rightly 
 Both what by sea and laud I can be able, 
 'i'o 'front this present time. 
 
 Cas, Till which encou!iter. 
 
 It is my business too. Farewell. [mean time 
 
 Lep. Farewell, my lord : What you shall know 
 Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, 
 I'o let me be partaker. 
 
 Ctes. Doubt not, sir ; 
 
 I knew it for my bond. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Alexandria, A Room in the Palace, 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and 
 Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. Charmian, — 
 
 Char, Madam. 
 
 Cleo. Ha, ha!— 
 Give me to drink mandragora. 
 
 Char. Why, madam? 
 
 Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time 
 My Antony is away. 
 
 Char. You think of him 
 
 Too much, 
 
 Cleo. O, treason ! 
 
 Char. Madam, I trust, not so 
 
 Cleo. Thou, eunuch! Mardian! 
 
 Mar, What's your highness' pleasure? 
 
 Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing ; I take no plea. 
 Jn aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee, [sure 
 Tiiat, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts 
 May not flj forth of Egypt. Hast thou aliectious? 
 
 Mar. \ es. gracious madam. 
 
 e/.o. Indeed? 
 
608 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 Mar. Not in deed, inadam; for I can do nothing 
 B'lt what 11) fleet! is honest to be done: 
 Yet have I fierce atl'ections, and lliiuk, 
 VV'hat Venus did with Mars. 
 
 Cleo. O Charmian, 
 
 Where tliink'st thoii he is now ? Stands he, or sits he? 
 Or does lie walk '^ or is he on his horse? 
 O happy horse, to bear tlie weigiit of Antony ! 
 Do bra\ely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou 
 
 tniiv"st i 
 The demi-Atl;is of this earth, the arm 
 And burgonet of men. — He's speaking now, 
 Or inurmdrins. Where's my serpent of old Nile ! 
 For so he calls me ; Now 1 feed myself 
 With most delirious poison : — Think on me, 
 That am with Phcebiis' amorous pinches black. 
 And wrinkled deep ill time? Broad- fronted Caesar, 
 When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
 A morsel for a monarch : and great Pompey 
 Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow ; 
 There would he anchor his aspect, and die 
 With looking on his life. 
 
 Enter Alexas. 
 
 Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, hail ! 
 
 Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony ! 
 Yet, coming from him. that great medicine hath 
 With his tiiict gilded thee. — 
 How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? 
 
 Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen, 
 He kiss'd, — the last of many doubled kisses, — 
 'I'his orient pearl ; — His speech sticks in my heart 
 
 Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence. 
 
 Alex. Good friend, quoth he, 
 
 Say, the firm Roman to great Eyypt sends 
 This treasure of an oyster; a-t iv hose foot. 
 To mend the petty present. I will piece 
 Her opulent throne with kingdoms ; All the east, 
 Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded. 
 And soberly did mount a termagant steed. 
 Who nelgh'd so high, that what I would have spoke 
 Was beastly dumb'd by him. 
 
 Cleo. What, was he sad, or merry ? 
 
 Alex. Like to the time o'the year between the 
 extremes 
 Of hot and cold ; he was nor sad nor merry. 
 
 Cleo. O well-divided disposition! — Note him. 
 Note him, good Charmian, 'tis tlie man ; but note 
 
 him: 
 He was not sad ; for he would shine on those 
 'I'hat make their looks by his: he was not merry; 
 Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay 
 In Egypt with his joy: but between both: 
 
 heavenly mingle ! — Be'st thou sad, or merry, 
 'J'he violence of either thee becomes; 
 
 So di:>es it no man else. — Met'st thou my posts? 
 
 Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers : 
 Why do you send so thick ? 
 
 Cleo. Who's born that day 
 
 When 1 forget to send to Antony, 
 Shall die a beggar. — Ink and paper, Charmian. — 
 Welcome, my good Alexas. — Did I, Charmian, 
 Ever love Ca;sar so? 
 
 Cfuir. O that brave Cassar! 
 
 Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! 
 Say, the brave Antony. 
 
 Clmr. The valiant Caesar ! 
 
 Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth. 
 If thou with Cajsar paragon again 
 My man ol men. 
 
 Char. By your most gracious pardon, 
 
 1 sing but after you. 
 
 Cleo. My sallad days ; 
 
 When I was green in judgment — Cold in blood, 
 To say, as I said then I — But, come, away ; 
 Get me ink and paper: he shall have everyday 
 A several ^retting, or I'll unpeople Egypt 
 
 \Exmint. 
 
 ACT H. 
 
 ScENB I. — Messina. A Room in Pompey s House, 
 Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas. 
 
 Pomp. If the great gods be just, they shall assist 
 The deeds of justest men. 
 
 Mene. Know, worthy Pompey, 
 
 That what they do delay, they not deny. 
 
 Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays 
 The thing we sue for. 
 
 Mene. * We, ignorant of ourselves. 
 
 Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
 Deny us for our good ; so find we profit. 
 By losing of our prayers. 
 
 Pom. I shall do well : 
 
 The people love me, and the sea is mine : 
 My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope 
 Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony 
 In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make 
 No wars without doors ; Ca;sar gets money, where 
 He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, 
 Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves. 
 Nor either cares for him. %. 
 
 Men. Caesar and Lepidus 
 
 Are in the field ; a mighty strength they carry. 
 
 Pom. Where have you this ? 'tis false. 
 
 Men. From Silvius, sir. 
 
 Pom. He dreams ; I know, they are in Konie 
 together, 
 Looking for Antonv : But all charms of love, 
 Salt Cleopatra, solten tliy wan'd lip ! 
 Let witchcraft join'd with beauty, lust with both! 
 'J'ie up the libertine in a field of leasts, 
 Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks, 
 Sharpen with cloyless sauce lii.s appetite ; 
 That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour. 
 Even till a Lethe'd dulness. — How now, Varrius? 
 
 Enter Varrius. 
 
 Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: 
 Mark Antony is every hour in Rome 
 Expected ; since he went from Egypt, 'tis 
 A space for further trav el. 
 
 Pom. I could have given less matter 
 
 A better ear. — Jlenas, I did not think. 
 This amorous siirfeiter would have don'd his helm 
 For such a petty war: his soldiership 
 Is twice the other twain: But let us rear 
 The higher our opinion, that our stirring 
 Can from i\vt lap of Egypt's widow pluck 
 The ne'er lust-wearied Antony. 
 
 Men. I cannot hope 
 
 Caesar and Antony shall well greet together : 
 His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Caisar; 
 His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think. 
 Not mov'd by Antony. ' 
 
 Pom. I know not, Menas, 
 
 How lesser enmities may give way to greater. 
 Were't not that we stand np against them all, 
 'Twere pregnant they should square between them- 
 selves; 
 For they have entertained cause enough 
 To draw their swords: but how the fear of us 
 INlay cement their divisions, and bind up 
 'i'he petty diHeience, we yet not know. 
 Be it as our gods will have it I It only stands 
 Our lives upon, to use our strongest liands. 
 Come, Menas. [Exeuvi, 
 
 Scene II. — Rome. A Room in the House of 
 
 Lepidus. 
 
 Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus 
 
 Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed 
 And shall become you well, to entreat your captain 
 To soft and gentle speech. 
 
 E710. I shall entreat him 
 
 To answer like himseJf: If Cffisar move him. 
 Let Antony look over Cwsar's head. 
 And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, 
 Were I the wearer o( Antonius' beard, 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 609 
 
 1 would not shave to-day. 
 
 hep. 'Tis not a time 
 
 For private stomaching. 
 
 Fmo. Every time 
 
 Serves for the matter that is then born in it. 
 
 Lep. But sm-ill to greater matters must give way. 
 
 Eiio. Not if the small come first. 
 
 Lep. Vour speech is passion ; 
 
 But, pray yon, stir uo embers up. Here comes 
 1 he noble Antony. 
 
 Enter Antony and Ventidius. 
 
 Eno. And yonder, Ccesar. 
 
 Enter C^SAR, Mec^nas, and Agkippa. 
 
 Ant. If we compose well here, to Parthia: 
 Hark you, Ventidius. 
 
 C<BS. I do not know, 
 
 Mp«enas ; ask Agrippa. 
 
 Lep, Noble friends. 
 
 That which combined us was most great, and let not 
 A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, 
 May it be gently heard : When we debate 
 Our trivial dilference loud, we do commit 
 Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble partners, 
 (The rather, for 1 e'arnestly beseech,) 
 Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, 
 Nor curstness grow to the matter. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis spoken well : 
 
 Were we before our armies, and to fight, 
 / should do this. 
 
 CeBS. W^elcome to Rome. 
 
 Ant. 'i'hank you. 
 
 C<BS, Sit. 
 
 Ant. Sit, sir! 
 
 Ctes. Nay, 
 
 Then— 
 
 Ant. I learn, you take things ill, which are not so; 
 Or. being, concern you not 
 
 Cas. I must be laugh'd at. 
 
 If, or for nothing, or a little, I 
 Should say myself offended ; and with you 
 Chiefly i'the world : more laugh'd at, that I should 
 Once name you derogately, when to sound your 
 It not concern'd me. [name 
 
 Ant. My being in Egypt, Caesar, 
 
 What was't to you? 
 
 Cces. No more than my residing here at Rome 
 Might be to you in Egypt: Vet, if you there 
 Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt 
 Might be my question. 
 
 Ant. How intend you, practis'd ? 
 
 CcBS. You may be pleas'd-to catch at mine intent. 
 By what did here bel'al me. Your wife, and brother, 
 Miide wars upon me; and their contestation 
 Was theme for you, you were the word of war. 
 
 Ant. You do mistake yonr business; my brother 
 never 
 Did urge me in his act : I did enquire it; 
 And have my learning from some Irue reports, 
 That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather 
 Discredit my authority with yours; 
 And make the wars alike against my stomach, 
 Having alike your cause ? Of this, my letters 
 Before did satisfy j'ou. If you'll patch a quarrel, 
 As matter whole you have not to make it with. 
 It must not be with this. 
 
 Cces You praise yourself 
 
 By laying defects of judgment to me; but 
 You patcird up your excuses. 
 
 Ant. Not so, not so ; 
 
 I know you could not lack, I am certain on't. 
 Very necessity of this thought, that I, 
 Your parhier m the cause 'gainst which he fought, 
 Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars. 
 Which 'fionted mine own peace. As for my wife,. 
 I would you had her spirit in sjich another : 
 The third o'the world is yours; which with a snaffle 
 Vou may pace easy, but not such a. wife. 
 
 Eno. 'Would we had all such wives, that the men 
 might go to wars witli the women! 
 
 Ant. So much uncurable, her garboils, Cajsar, 
 Made out of her impatience, Cwhich not wanted 
 Shrewdness of policy too.) I grieving grant. 
 Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must 
 But say, I could not help it. 
 
 CcBS. I wrote to yon, 
 
 When rioting in Alexandria; you 
 Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts 
 Did gibe my missive out of audience. 
 
 Ant. Sir, 
 
 He fell upon me, ere admitted; then 
 Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want 
 Of what I was i'the morning; but, next day, 
 I told him of myself; which was as much 
 As to have ask'd him pardon : Let this fellow 
 Be nothing ol our strife ; if we contend. 
 Out of our question wipe him. 
 
 Ctes. You have broken 
 
 The article of your oath ; which you shall never 
 Have tongue to charge me with. 
 
 Lep. Soft, Casar. 
 
 Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak ; 
 The honour's sacred which he talks on now, 
 Supposing that I lack'd it: But on, Caesar; • 
 The article of my oath, — [them: 
 
 Cces. Tn lend me arms, and aid, when trequir'd 
 The which you both denied. 
 
 Ant. Neglected, rather; 
 
 And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up 
 From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, 
 I'll play the penitent to you ; but mine honesty 
 Shall not nmke poor my greatness, nor my power 
 Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia, 
 To have me out of Egypt, made wars here ; 
 For which myself, the ignorant motive, do 
 So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour 
 To stoop in such a case. 
 
 hep. 'Tis nobly spoken. 
 
 Mec. If it might please you, to enforce no further 
 The griefs between ye : to forget them quite, 
 VVere to remember, that the present need 
 Speaks to atone you. 
 
 Lvp, Worthily spoke, Mecaenas. 
 
 Eno. Or, if you borrow one another's love for the 
 instant, you may, when you hear no more words of 
 Pompey, return it again : you shall have time to 
 wrangle ia, when you have nothing else to do. 
 
 Ant, Thou art a soldier only ; speak no more. 
 
 Eno., That truth should be silent, I had almost 
 forgot. [more. 
 
 Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak no 
 
 Eno. Go to then ; your considerate stone. 
 
 Cces. I do not much dislike the matter, but 
 The manner of his speech : for it cannot be, 
 We shall remain in friendship, our conditions 
 So differing in tiieir acts. Yet, if I knew 
 What hoop should hold us staunch, from edge to edge 
 O' the world I would pursue it. 
 
 Ayr. Giv« me leave, Caesar,-* 
 
 Cas. Speak, Agrippa. 
 
 Agr. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, 
 Admir'd Octavia : great Mark Antony 
 Is now a widower. 
 
 Cces. Say not so, Agrippa ; 
 
 If Cleopatra heard yon, your reproof 
 Were well deserv'd of rashness. 
 
 Ant. I am not married, Caesar; let me hear 
 Agrippa further speak. 
 
 Ayr. To hold you in perpetual amity. 
 To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts 
 With an unslipping knot, take Antony 
 Octa» ia to his wife ; whose beauty claims 
 No worse a husband than the best of men ; 
 Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak 
 That which none else can utter. By this marria^, 
 All little jealousies, which now seem great. 
 And ail great fears, which now import their dangers. 
 Would then be nothing; truth would be but tales. 
 
610 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act II 
 
 Where nnvv half tales be trtiths : her love to both, 
 Woukl, each to other, and all loves to both, 
 Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke ; 
 For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, 
 By duty ruminated. 
 
 Jint. Will Caesar speak i 
 
 Ctes. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd 
 With what is spoke already. .... 
 
 ^nf_ What power is in Agrippa, 
 
 If I would say, Agr'ppa, be it so. 
 To make tiiis good V 
 
 (Jf2s. The power of Caesar, and 
 
 His power unto Octavia. 
 
 Ant. ^l^y I never 
 
 To this good purpose, that so fairly shews. 
 Dream of impediment !— Let me have thy hand : 
 Further this act ot grace : and, from this hour, 
 Tiie heart of brother.s goveni in our loves, 
 And sway our great designs ! . 
 
 (J^s. There is my hand. 
 
 A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother 
 Did ever love so dearly: Let her live 
 To join our kingdoms, and our hearts; and never 
 Fly off our loves again ! 
 
 Jjep. Happily, amen! 'Pompey ; 
 
 Ant. I did not think to draw my swurd 'gainst 
 For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great, 
 Of late upon me : I must tliaiik him only. 
 Lest my remembrance sutler ill report; 
 At heel of that, defy him. 
 
 Jjep. Time calls upon us: 
 
 Of us must Pompey presently be sought. 
 Or else he seeks out us. 
 j^fil;^ And where lies he? 
 
 C<BS. About the Mount Misenum. 
 ^nt. What's his strength 
 
 By land? 
 
 C(ZS. Great, and increasing : but by sea 
 He is an absolute master. 
 
 Ant. So is the fame. 
 
 Wou4d we had spoke together! Haste we for it: 
 Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we 
 The business we have talk'd of. 
 
 Ctes. With most gladness ; 
 
 knd do invite you to my sister's view. 
 Whither straight I will lead you. 
 
 Ant. Let us, Lepidus, 
 
 Not lack your company. 
 
 Ijep. Noble Antony, 
 
 Not sickness should detain me. 
 
 [FlourisL [Exeunt Casar, Ant. and Lepidus. 
 Mec. Welcome from Egypt, sir. 
 'Eno. Half the heart of Caisar, worthy Mecaenas ! 
 — my honourable friend, Agrippa! — 
 Agr. GooA Enobarbus! 
 
 Mec. We have cause to be glad, that matters are 
 so well digested. You stay'd well by it in Egypt 
 Eno. Ay, sir ; we did sleej) day out of countenance, 
 and made the night light with drinking. 
 
 Mec. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a break- 
 fast, and but twelve persons there ; Is this true ? 
 
 Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle : we had 
 much more monstrnous matter of feast, which wor- 
 thily deserved noting. 
 
 Mec. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be 
 square to her. 
 
 Eno. VVhen she first met Mark Antony, she pursed 
 op his heart, upon the river of Cjdnus. 
 
 Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my reporter 
 devised well for her. 
 
 Eno. I will tell you : 
 The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, 
 Bnrn'd on the water: the poop vvas beaten gold; 
 Purple the sails, and so perlumed, that [silver; 
 
 Tile winds were love-sick with them : the oars were 
 Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
 The water, which they beat, to follow faster. 
 As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 
 \t beggar'd all description: she did lie 
 In .her .pavilion, 'cloth of gold, of tissue,) 
 
 O'erpicturing that Venus, where we see 
 The fancy out- work nature : on each side her. 
 Stood prelty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
 With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem 
 To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, 
 And what they undid, did. 
 Ayr . O, rare for Antony ! 
 
 Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
 So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, 
 And made their bends adornings : at tlie helm 
 A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle 
 Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, 
 That yarely frame the oflice. From the barge 
 A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
 Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
 Her people out upon her ; and Antony, 
 Enthrou'd in the market-place, did sit alone. 
 Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, 
 Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too. 
 And made a gap in nature. 
 
 Ayr. Rare Egyptian ! 
 
 Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her. 
 Invited her to supper: she replied. 
 It should he better, he became her guest; 
 Which she entreated: Our courteous Antony, 
 Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak. 
 Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast; 
 And, for his ordinary, pays his heart. 
 For what his eyes eat only. 
 
 Ayr. Royal wench ! 
 
 She made great Cassar lay his sword to bed ; 
 He plough'd her, and she cropp'd. 
 
 Eno, I saw her once 
 
 Hop forty paces through the public street: 
 And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted. 
 That she did make defect, perfection, 
 .\nd, breathless, power breathe forth. 
 Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly. 
 Eno. Never; he will not; 
 Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
 Her infinite variety : Other women 
 Cloy th' appetites they feed ; but she makes hungry, 
 Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
 Become themselves in her; that the holy priests 
 Bless her, when she is riggish. 
 
 Mec. li beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle 
 The heart of Antony, Octavia is 
 A blessed lottery to iiim. 
 
 Agr. Let us go. — 
 
 Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest. 
 Whilst you abide here. 
 Eno. Humbly, sir, I thank you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — The same.' A Room tti Ctesar's House. 
 
 Enter C^SAK, Antony, Octavia between them; 
 
 Attendants, and a Soothsayer. 
 
 Ant. The world, and my great office, will some- 
 Divide me from your bosom. [times 
 
 Octa. All which time, 
 
 Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers 
 To them for you. 
 
 Ant. Good night, sir. — My Octavia, 
 
 Read not my blemishes in the world's report: 
 I have not kept my square ; but that to come 
 Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear 
 
 Octa. Good night, sir. [lady.— 
 
 CtBS. Good night. [Exeunt Cas. and Octa. 
 
 Ant. Now, sirrah ! you do wish yourselfin Egypt :" 
 
 Sooth. 'Would I had never come from thence, nor 
 Thither! [you 
 
 Ant. If you can, your reason? 
 
 Sooth. I see't in 
 
 My motion, have it not in my tongue i But yet 
 Hie ywi again to Egypt. 
 
 Ant. Say to me. 
 
 Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's ormjM? 
 
 Sooth. Caesar's. 
 Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side: 
 Thy damon, that's tliy spirit which keeps thee, is 
 Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 611 
 
 Where Caesar's is not; but, near him, thy angel 
 Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpowered ; tlierefore 
 Make space enough between yon. 
 
 An(. Speak this no more. 
 
 Sooth. 'I'o none but thee : no more, but when to 
 ff thou dost play with iiim at any game, |thee. 
 
 'I'iiou art sure to lose ; and, of that natural lurk, 
 He beats tliee 'gainst the odds ; thy lustre thickens, 
 \V'l.'>'n he shines by ; I say again, tiiy spirit 
 Js all afraid to govern thee near him ; 
 But, he away, 'tis noble. 
 
 Ani. flet thee gone : 
 
 Say to Ventidius, 1 would speak with him : — 
 
 [Exit Soothsayer. 
 We shall to Parthia. — Be it art, or hap. 
 He hatii spoken true : The very dice obey him; 
 -And , in our sports, my better cunning faints 
 Uniier liis chance: if we draw lots, he speeds: 
 His cocks do win tlie battle still of mine, 
 Vyiien it is all to nought; and his quails ever 
 Be;it mine, iuhoou'd, at odds. I will to Egypt: 
 And though I make this marriage for my peace, 
 
 Enter Ventidius. 
 
 [■ the east my pleasure lies: — O, come, Ventidins, 
 Von must to Parthia; your coniDtissioa's ready: 
 I ullow me, and receive it. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. A Street. 
 Elder Lepidl's, Mec^nas, and Agrippa. 
 
 Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, 
 V'oiir generals after. [hasten 
 
 Agr. Sir, Mark Antony 
 
 Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll i'ollow. 
 
 Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, 
 Wliich will become you both, farewell. 
 
 Mec. We shall, 
 
 As I conceive the journey, be at mount 
 Before you, Lepidus. 
 
 lifp. Your way is shorter, 
 
 Mv purposes do draw me much about; 
 You'll win two days upon me. 
 
 Mec. §f Ayr. Sir, good success I 
 
 Lep. i>'arewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 E//<flr Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. 
 
 Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody food 
 Of us that trade in love. 
 Attend. The music, ho! 
 
 Enter Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. Let it alone ; let us to billiards : 
 ConiH, Charmian. 
 
 Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, 
 .As with a woman; — Come, you'll play with me, sir? 
 
 Mar. As well as I can, madam. 
 
 Cleo. And when good will is shevv'd, though it 
 come too short, 
 The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now: — 
 (Jive me mine angle. — We'll to the river: there, 
 My itnisir, plaving far off, I will betray 
 Tawny-finu'd hshes; my bended hook shall pierce 
 Their slimy jaws; and. as I draw them up, 
 I'll think them every one an Antony, 
 And say, .Ah, ha 1 you're caught 
 
 Char. 'Twas merry, when 
 
 Vou wager'd on your angling ; when your diver 
 Did hang a salt-tish on his hook, which he 
 With fervency drew up. 
 
 Cleo. That time !—0 times !— 
 
 I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night 
 I laugh'd hiui into patience : and next morn. 
 Ere the ninth hour, 1 drunk hnn to Ins bed ; 
 Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst 
 [ wore his sword Philippan. O ! from Italy ; — 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 
 
 That long time have been barren. 
 
 Mess. Madam, madara,- 
 
 Cleo. Antony's dead "?- 
 If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress 
 But well and free. 
 
 If tiiou so yield him, there is gold, and here 
 i\ly bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings 
 Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. 
 
 Mess. First, madam, he's well 
 
 Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark 
 We use 
 To say, the dead are well : bring it to that, 
 The gold I give thee, will I melt, and pour 
 Down thy ill-uttering throat. 
 
 Mess. Good madam, hear me. 
 
 Cleo. Well, go io, 1 will 
 
 But there's no goodness in thy face ; If Antony 
 Be free, and healthful, — why so tart a favour 
 To trumpet such good tidings :" If not well, 
 'I'hou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes 
 Not like a formal man. 
 
 Mess. Will't please you hear me 
 
 Cleo. I hn\e a mind to strike thee, ere tlio'i 
 Yet, if thou s;iy, Antony lives, is well, fspeak'st 
 Or friends with Cwsar, or not captive to him, 
 I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail 
 Rich pearls upon thee. 
 
 Mess. Madam, he's well. 
 
 Cleo. Well said. 
 
 Mess. And friends with Caesar. 
 
 Cleo. Thou'rt an honest man 
 
 Mess. Caesar and he are greater friends than ever 
 
 Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. 
 
 Mess. But yet, madam,— 
 
 Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay 
 The good precedence ; fy upon hut yet: 
 Jiul yet is as a gao'er to brmg forth 
 Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend, 
 Pour out tlie pack of matter to mine ear. 
 The good and bad together : He's friends with Csesar 
 In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free. 
 
 Mess. Free, madam ! no; I made no such report' 
 He's bound unto Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. For what good turn ? 
 
 Mess. For the best turn i' the bed. 
 
 Cleo. I am pale, Charmian 
 
 Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia, 
 
 Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee ! 
 
 (Strikes him down.) 
 
 Mess. Good madam, patience. 
 
 Cleo. What .say yon ? — Hence, 
 
 (Strikes him again. 
 thii 
 
 Horrible villain! or I'll spam thine eyes 
 Like balls before me ; I'll nnhair thy head ; 
 
 (She hales hitn up anddown.) 
 Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in 
 Smarting in ling'ring pickle. [brine, 
 
 Hfess. Gracious madam, 
 
 I, that do bring the news, made not the match. 
 
 Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee. 
 And make thy fortunes proud : the blow thou hadst 
 Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage ; 
 And I will boot thee with what gift beside 
 Thv modesty can beg. 
 
 Mess. He's married, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. 
 
 (Draws a dagger.) 
 
 Mess. Nay, then I'll rnn : — 
 What mean you, madam ? I have made no fault. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 CJtar. Good madam, keep yourself within your- 
 self, 
 The man is innocent. [bolt.— ► 
 
 Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunder 
 Melt Egypt into Nile ! and kindly creatures 
 Turn all to serpents!— Call the slave again ; 
 i'hough I am mad, I will not bite him : — Call. 
 
 Char. He is aleard to come. 
 
 Cleo. I will not hurt him — 
 
 These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
 
61.2 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 A meaner than myself; since I myself _ 
 
 Have given myself the cause. — Come hither, sir. 
 
 Ree7iter Messen-ger. 
 
 ThoJigli it be honest, it is never good 
 To bring had news : Give to a gracious messager 
 An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell 
 'I'hemselvea, when they be felt. 
 
 Mes. I have done my duty. 
 
 C/eo. Is he married ? 
 I cannot hate thee worser tlian I do, 
 If thou again say; Yes. 
 
 Mess, He is married, madam. 
 
 Cleo. The gods confound thee ! dost thou hold 
 there still? 
 
 Mess. Should 1 lie, madam ? 
 
 Cleo. O, I would thou didst; 
 
 So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made 
 A cistern for scal'd snakes ! Go, get thee hence ; 
 Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me 
 Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is married ? 
 
 Mess. I crave your highness' pardon. 
 
 Cleo. He is married ? 
 
 Mess. Take no offence, that I would not offend 
 To punish me for what you make me do, [you : 
 
 Seems much unequal : He is married to Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. (), that his fault should make a knave of 
 
 thee, [hence : 
 
 That art not 1— What ? thou'rt sure oft ?— Get thee 
 
 The merchandise, which thou hast brought from 
 
 Rome, 
 Are all too dear for me : Lie they upon thy haml, 
 And be undone by 'em ! [Exit Mess. 
 
 Cftar. (iood your highness, patience. 
 
 Cleo. In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Caisar. 
 
 Char. Many times, madam. 
 
 Cleo. I am paid for't now. 
 
 Lead me from hence, 
 
 I faint ; O Iras, Cliarmian, — 'Tis no matter: 
 Go to the fellow, good Alexas : bid him 
 Report the feature of Octavia, her years. 
 Her inclination, let him not leave out 
 The colour of her hair: — bring me word quickly. — 
 
 [Exit Alexas. 
 Let him for ever go: — Let him not — Charmian, 
 'I'houijh he be painted one way like a Gorgon, 
 T'otlier way he's a Mars: — Bid you Alexas 
 
 (To Mar di an.) 
 Bring me word, how tall she is. — Pity nie, Chiirmian, 
 But do not speak to me. — Lead me to my cliamber. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Near Misenum. 
 Enter Pompey and Menas, at one side, tvith drum 
 and trumpet; at another, CjEsar, Lepidus, 
 Antony, Enobarbus, Mec^nas, with Soldiers 
 marching. 
 
 Po?H, Your hostages I have, so have you mine ; 
 And we shall talk before we fight. 
 
 Cas. Most meet. 
 
 That first we come to words ; and therefore have we 
 Our written purposes before us sent: 
 Whici), if thou hast considered, let us know 
 If "twill tie up thy discontented sword; 
 And carry back to Sicily much tall youth, » 
 That else must perish here. 
 
 Pom. To you all three. 
 
 The senators alone ot this great world, 
 Chief factors for the gods, — I do not knoxy. 
 Wherefore my father should revengers want, 
 Having a son, and friends; since Julius C^sar, 
 Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, 
 T^here saw you labouring for him. What was it. 
 That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire ? And what 
 Made the all-honour'd honest Roman, Brutus, 
 W ith the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, 
 To drench the Capitol ; but that tliey would 
 Have one man but a man ' And tlial is it, 
 Hath made me rig my na\ y ; at whose burden 
 Ihe anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant 
 
 To scourge the iugratitude that despiteful Rome 
 Cast on my noble father. 
 
 Cces. Take your time. (sails, 
 
 A7it. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy 
 We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'at 
 How much we do o'er-count thee. 
 
 Pom. At land, indeed. 
 
 Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house : 
 But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself. 
 Remain iu't as thou may'st. 
 
 Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us, 
 
 (For this is from the present,) how you take 
 The offers we have sent you. 
 
 CiES. There's the point. 
 
 Ant. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh 
 What it is worth emhrac'd, 
 
 Cas. And what may follow. 
 
 To try a larger fortune. 
 
 Pom. Yon have made me offer 
 
 Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must 
 J{id all the sea of pirates ; then, to send 
 Measures of wheat to Rome : This 'greed upon, 
 To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back 
 Our targe nndinted. 
 
 Cas. Ant. §f Lep. That's our offer. 
 
 Potn. Know then, 
 
 I came before you here, a man prepar'd 
 To take this ofi'er : But Mark Antony 
 Put me to some impatience : — 'I'hough I lose 
 The praise of it by telling. You must know. 
 When Csesar and your brothers were at blows. 
 Your mother came to Sicily, and did find 
 Her welcome friendly. 
 
 Ant. I have heard it, Pompey. 
 
 And am well studied fur a liberal thanks. 
 Which I do owe you. 
 
 Pom. Let me have your hand : 
 
 I did not think, sir. to have met you. [yf'^j 
 
 Ant. The beds i'the east are soft; and thanks tu 
 That call'd me, timelier than my purpose, hither ; 
 For I have gain'd by it. 
 
 Cas. Since I saw you last, 
 
 There is a change upon you. 
 
 Po7n. Well, I know not, 
 
 What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; 
 But in my bosom shall she never come, 
 To make my heart her wassal. 
 
 Lep. Well met here. 
 
 Pom. I hope so, Lepidus. — Thus we are agreed: 
 I crave, our composition may be written. 
 And seal'd between us. 
 
 Cas. That's the next to do. 
 
 Pom. We'll feast each other, ere we part; and 
 Draw lots who shall begin. [let us 
 
 Ant. That will I, Pompey. 
 
 Pom. No, Antony, take the lot: but„first. 
 Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery 
 Shall have the fame. 1 have heard, that Julius Csesar 
 Grew fat with feasting there. 
 
 Ant. You have heard much. 
 
 l-'om. I have fair meaninga, sir. 
 
 Ant. And fair words to them. 
 
 Pom. Then so much have I heard : — 
 And I have heard, Apollodorus carried — 
 
 Eno. No more of that: — He did so. 
 
 Pom. What, I pray you? 
 
 Eno. A certain qneen to Caesar in a mattress. 
 
 Pcm. 1 know thee now; How far'stthou, soldier? 
 
 Eno. \\'e\] ; 
 
 And well am like to do ; for, I perceive. 
 Four feasts are toward. 
 
 Po?n. Let me shake thy hand ; 
 
 ■ I never hated thee : I have seen thee fight. 
 When I have envied thy behaviour. 
 
 Eno. Sir, 
 
 1 never lov'd you much ; but I have prais'd you, 
 W hen you have well deserv'd ten times as much 
 As I have said you did. 
 
 Potn. Enjoy thy plainness, 
 
 It nothing ill becomes thee. — 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 613 
 
 Afioard my galley i invite yoii all: 
 VVill you lead, lords? 
 
 CcKS. Ant. §f Lep. Shew us the way, sir. 
 
 Pom. Come. 
 
 [Exeunt Pompet/, CeBsar, Antony, Lepidus, 
 Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 
 Men. Thy father, Poaipey, would ne'er have made 
 his treaty. — [Aside.) — You and I have known, sir. 
 
 Eno. At .sea, I tliinL 
 
 Men. W" have, sir. 
 
 Eno. Yon have done well by water. 
 1 Men. And you by l.md, 
 
 Eno. I will praise any man, that « ill praise me : 
 (h.iii!;!) it cjinnot be denied what I have '''one by land. 
 
 Men. Nor wh:it I have done by water. 
 
 Eno. Yes, something you can deny for your own 
 safety : you have been a sreat thief by sea. 
 
 Men. And you by land. 
 
 Eno, There 1 deny my land service. But give me 
 your hand, Menas: If our eyes had authority, here 
 ihey might take two thieves kissingf. 
 
 Men. All men's faces are true, whatsoe'er their 
 ieands are. [face. 
 
 Eno. But there is never a fair woman has a true 
 
 Men. No slaiuder; they steal hearts." 
 
 Eno. We came hither to fight with you. 
 
 Men, For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a 
 drinkiug. Pompey doth this day laugh away his 
 fortune. 
 
 Eno. If he do, sure he cannot weep it back again. 
 
 Men. V'ou have said, sir. We looked not forjlark 
 Antony here ; Pray you, is he married to Cleopatra ? 
 
 Eno. Caesar's sister is cail'd Octavia. [cellus. 
 
 Men. True, sir, she was the wife of Caius Mar- 
 
 Eno. But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius. 
 
 Men. Pray you, sir ? 
 
 Eno. 'Tis true. 
 
 Men,'{\en isCssarand he for ever knit together. 
 
 Eno. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I 
 vroi:l(l not prophesy so. 
 
 Metu I think, the policy of that purpose made 
 aiore in the marriage, than the love of the parties. 
 
 Eno. I think so tix). But you shall find, the band 
 that seems to tie their friendship together, will be 
 the >cry .^rangier of their amity: Octavia is of a 
 holy, cold, and still conversation. 
 
 Men. Who would not have his wife so ? 
 
 Eno. Nut he, that himself is not so; which is Mark 
 Antouy. He will to his Egyptian dish again : then 
 shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire upin Cassar: 
 and. as I said before, that which is tiie strength of 
 Iheir amity, shall prove the immediate author of 
 their variance. Antony will use his affection where 
 tt is; he married but his occasion here. 
 
 Men. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you 
 aboard ? I have a health for you. 
 
 Eno. 1 shall take it, sir: We have used our 
 throats in Egypt. 
 
 Men. Come ; let's away. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — On board Pompey's Galley, lying 
 near Misenutn. 
 
 Music. Enter two or three Servants, with a 
 banquet. 
 
 1 Serv. Here they'll be, man : Some o'their plants 
 fcW'. ill-iooted already, the least wind i'the world will 
 blow them down. 
 
 2 Serv. Lepidus is high-coloured. 
 
 1 Serv. They have made him drink alms-drink. 
 
 2 Sero. As they pinch one another by the dispo- 
 sition, he cries out, no more; re-onciles them to his 
 entreaty, and hiniseif to the drink. 
 
 1 Serv. But it raises the greater war between 
 him and his discretion. 
 
 2 Serv. Why, this it is to have a name in great 
 men's fellowsiiip : I had as lief have a reed that will 
 dome no service, as a partizan I could not heave. 
 
 1 Serv. To be called into a huge spiiere, and not 
 to be seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes 
 should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks. 
 
 A senet sounded. Enter C^sar, Antony, Pom 
 PEY, Lepidus, Agrippa, Mecenas, Enogarbls, 
 Men.\S, with other Captains. 
 
 Ant. Thus do they, sir: (To Ccesar.) They take 
 the flow o'the Nile 
 By certain scales i'the pyramid ; they know. 
 By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth, 
 Orfbizon, follow: The higher Nilus swells. 
 The more it promises: as^it ebbs, the seedsman 
 U[)on the slime and ooze (Scatters his gra'i. 
 And shortly comes to harvest. 
 
 Lep. You have strange serpents there. 
 
 Ant. Ay, Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. Yotir serpent of Egypt is bred nowof yonr 
 mud by the operation of your sun; so is your cro 
 codile. 
 
 Ant. They are so. [dus. 
 
 Pom. Sit, — and some wine. — A health to Le|>i- 
 
 Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll 
 ne'er out. 
 
 Eno. Not till you have slept ; I fear me you'll be 
 in, till then. 
 
 Lep. Nay, certainly, I have heard, the Ptolemies 
 pyraniises are very goodly things; without ain- 
 tradiction, I ha\e heard that. 
 
 Men. Pompey, a word. {Aside.) 
 
 Pom. Say in mine ear : What is't ? 
 
 Men. Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, cap- 
 fain, {Aside) 
 And hear me speak a word. 
 
 Pom. Forbear me till anon. — 
 
 This wine for Lepidus. 
 
 Lep. What manner o'thing is your crocodile ? 
 
 Ant. It is shaped, sir, like "itself; and it is as 
 broad as it hath breadth : it is just so liifjh as it is, 
 and moves with its own organs: it lives by that 
 which nourisheth it ; and the elements once out of 
 it, it transmigrates. 
 
 Lep. What colour is it of? 
 
 Ant. Of its own colour too. 
 
 Lep. ''I'is a strange serpent. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis so. And the tear^ of it are wet 
 
 Cas. Will this description satisfy him ? 
 
 Ant. With the health that Pompey iii\ 
 else he is a very epicure. 
 
 Pom. 'To Menas aside.) Go, hang, sir, hang! 
 Tell me of thai i away ! 
 Do as I bid you. — VV here's this cup I cail'd for? 
 
 Men. If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me, 
 Rise from thy stool. {Aside.) 
 
 Pom. I think, Ihou'rt mad. The matter? 
 
 {Rises, and walks aside.) 
 
 Men. I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. 
 
 Pom. Thou hast serv'd me with much faith- 
 What's else to s;iy ? 
 Be jolly, lords. 
 
 Ant^ These quick sands, Lepidus, 
 
 Keep off them, or you sink. 
 
 Men. Wilt thou be lord of all the world? 
 
 Pomp. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Men. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world ? 
 That's twice ? 
 
 Pom. How should that be ? 
 
 Men. But entertain it, a i ', 
 
 Al hough thou think me poor, I am the roan 
 Will give thee all the world. 
 
 Pom. Hast thou drunk well ? 
 
 Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me iVom the cup 
 Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove : 
 Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips. 
 Is thine, if thou wilt have't. 
 
 Pom. Shew me which way 
 
 Men. These three world-sharers, these compe 
 titors. 
 Are in thy vessel : Let me cut the cable ; 
 And, when we are put off fall to their throats 
 All there is thine. 
 
 Pom. Ah, this thou should'Ht have done 
 
 And not have spoke ont! In me, 'tis villany; 
 
 ipey gives him, 
 
6U 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 In thee, it had been good service. Thou must 
 
 know, 
 'Tis not my i)rofit that does lead mine honour; 
 Mine honour, it. Hepent, that e'er thy tongue 
 Hath so betray'd t'linc act : Being done unknown, 
 i should have found it atlerwards well done; 
 But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. 
 
 Men. For this, {Aside.) 
 
 I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more. — 
 Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis 
 
 .ffer'd. 
 Shall never lind it more. 
 
 2^om. Tliis health to Lepidus. 
 
 Anl. Bear him ashore. — I'll pledge it for him, 
 
 Pompey. 
 Eno. Here's to thee, Menas. 
 Men. Enobarbus, welcome. 
 
 Pom. Fill, till the cup he hid. 
 Eno. There's a strong fellow, Menas. 
 
 [Pointing to the Attendant who carries 
 ojT Lepidus.) 
 Men. Why? 
 
 Eno. He bears 
 
 The third part of the world, man : See'st not? 
 Men. The third part then is drunk : 'Would it 
 were all, 
 That it might go on wheels ! 
 
 Eno. Drink thou ; increase the reels. 
 Men. Come. 
 
 Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. 
 Ant. \i ripens towards it. — Strike the vessels, ho ! 
 Here is to Csesar. 
 
 CiBs. I could well lorbear it. 
 
 It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain. 
 And it grows fouler. 
 Ant. Be a child o'the time. 
 
 Cas. Possess it, I'll make answer: but I had 
 rather fast 
 From all, four days, than drink so much in one. 
 
 Eno. Ha, my brave emperor! [To Antony.) 
 
 Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, 
 And celebrate our drink ? 
 Pom. Let's ha't, good soldier. 
 
 Ant. Com, l^t us all fake hands; |sense 
 
 'Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our 
 In soft and delicate Lethe. 
 
 Eno. All take hands. — 
 
 Make battery to our ears with the loud music : — 
 The while, I'll place you : Then the boy shall 
 
 sing ; 
 The holding every man shall bear, as loud 
 .\s his strong sides can volley. 
 
 [Music plays. Enobarbus places them hand 
 in /land.) 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Come, thou monarch of the i/ine. 
 Plumpy Bacchus, ivith pink eyne : 
 In thy vats our cares be drowned ; 
 Wit'h thy grapes our hairs be croivn'd; 
 Cup us, till the world go round; 
 Cup us, till the world go round ! 
 
 Cas. What would you more ? — Pompey, good 
 night. Good brother, 
 Let ine request you oil": our graver business 
 Frowns at this levity. — Gentle lords , let's part ; 
 Yuu see, we have burnt our cheeks : strong Eno- 
 
 barbe 
 Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue 
 Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath 
 almost (night. — 
 
 Antick'd us all. What needs more words '! Good 
 Good Antony, your hand. 
 Pom. I'll try you o'the shore. 
 
 Ant. And shall, sir : give's your hand. 
 l*om. O, Antony, 
 
 You have my father's house, — But what? we are 
 
 f-nends : 
 Comt, down into the boat. 
 
 Eno. Take heed you fall not. — 
 
 [Exeunt Pompey, Ctesar, Antony, and 
 Attendants. 
 Menas, I'll not on shore. 
 
 Men. No, to my cabin. — 
 
 These drums .'-rthese trumpets, flutes! what! — 
 Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell 
 To these great fellows: Sound, and be haug'd. 
 sound out, 
 
 [A flourish of trumpets, ivith drums.) 
 Eno. Ho, says 'a ! — There's my cap. 
 Men. Ho! — noble c^tptain I 
 
 Come. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IIL 
 Scene \.-r-A Plain in Syria. 
 
 Enter Ventidius, as after conquest, with Siuus, 
 
 and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers ; the 
 
 dead body of Pacorus borne before him. 
 
 Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck ; 
 and now 
 Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death 
 Make me revenger. — Bear the king's son's body 
 Before our army : — Thy Pacorus, Orodes, 
 Pays this for Marcus Crassus. 
 
 Sil. Noble Ventidius, 
 
 Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm. 
 The fugitive Parthians follow ; spur through Media, 
 Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither 
 The routed fly : so tiiy grand captain Antony 
 Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and 
 Put garlands on thy head. 
 
 Ven. O Silius, Silius, 
 
 I have done enough : A lower place, note weff. 
 May make too great an act: For learn this, Silina; 
 Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
 Too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 
 Caisar, and Antony, have ever won 
 More in their officer, tliau person: Sossius, 
 One of my place in Syria, liis lieutenant, 
 For quick accumulation of renown. 
 Which he achiev'd hy the minute, lost his favouF. 
 Who does i'the wars more than his captain can, 
 Becomes his captain's captain : and ambition. 
 The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of lo8S» 
 Tlian gain, which darkens him. 
 I coiihi do more to do Antonius good. 
 But 'twould ofleud hiui ; and in his offence^ 
 Should my performance perish. 
 
 Sil. Thou hast, 'Ventidiusy 
 
 That without which a soldier, and his sword. 
 Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Ad- 
 tony ? 
 
 Ven. ril humbly signify what in his name. 
 That magical word of war, we have affected ; 
 How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks. 
 The ne'er-yet beaten horse of Parthia 
 We have jaded out o'the field. 
 
 Sil. Where is he now? 
 
 Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither, with 
 what haste 
 The weight we must convey with us will permit. 
 We shall appear before him. — On, there ; pass 
 along. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScENE-IL — Borne. An Ante-Chamber in Casar'g 
 House. 
 Enter ACRIPPA, and ENOB.\nBUS, meeting. 
 Agr. What, are tlie brothers parted ? 
 Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey, he is 
 gone ; 
 The other three are sealin('. Octavia weeps 
 To part from Rome : Csesar is sad ; and Lepidus„, 
 Since Pompey's feast, as iVIenas says, is troubled 
 With the green sickness. .> 
 Agr. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. 
 
 Eno. .\ very fine one : O, how he loves CaRsnr! 
 Agr. Nay, but how deiily he adores Mark Ax^ 
 taoy '. 
 
Scene 3 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 615 
 
 Eno. Ca?sar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men. 
 
 Agr. What's Antony? The god of Jiipiter. 
 
 Eno. Spake you of Caesar? How ? the nonpareil ! 
 
 Agr. O Antony ! O thou Arabian bird ! 
 
 Eno. Would jou praise Ca;sar, say, — Caesar; — 
 go no further. [praises. 
 
 Arjr. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent 
 
 Eno, But he loves Caesar best; — Yet he loves 
 
 Antony : [cannot 
 
 Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, 
 
 Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his 
 
 love 
 To Antony. Htit as for Csesar, 
 Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. 
 
 Agr, _ Both he loves. 
 
 Eno. They are his shards, and he their beetle. 
 •So, — {Trumpets.) 
 
 This is to horse. — .\dieii, noble Agrippa. 
 
 Agr. Good fortiuie, worthy soldier; and farewell. 
 
 Enter Caesar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia. 
 
 Aht. No further, sir. 
 
 (Ja-s. \o\\ take from nie a great part of myself; 
 Use nie well in it — Sister, prove such a wife 
 A.< my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest 
 
 band 
 Shall pass on thy approof. — Most noble Antony, 
 Let not the piece of virtue, wliicli is set 
 Betwixt ti.s, as the cement of our love. 
 To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter 
 The fortress of it : for better might we 
 Have lo\ed without this mean, if on both parts 
 'i'liis be not cherish'd. 
 
 A lit. Make me not offended 
 
 in yonr distrust. 
 
 Ctrs. I have said. 
 
 .\>it. You shall not find, 
 
 'I'hough you be therein curious, tiie least cause 
 [•'or wliat yon .seem to fear: So, tiie gods keep you, 
 And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends ! 
 \^ e will here part. 
 
 C<n:. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well ; 
 The elements be kind to thee, and make 
 Tiiy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well. 
 
 Octa. My noble brother ! — 
 
 Aiil. The .April's in her eyes : It is love's spring, 
 -And tiiese the showers to bring it on. — Be cheerful. 
 
 Ocla. Sir, look well to my husband's house ; 
 and — 
 
 Crs. What, 
 
 Octavia? 
 
 Ucl. I'll tell you in your ear. 
 
 .{ill. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can 
 Her heart inform lier tongue : tlie swan's down 
 
 leatlier, 
 That stands upon the swell at full of tide, 
 And neither way inclines. 
 
 Eno. Will Ca;sar weep ? [Aside to Agrippa.) 
 
 Agr. He has a cloud in's iace, 
 
 Eno. He were the worse for tliat, were he a 
 horse ; 
 So is lie, being a man. 
 
 Agr. Why, Enobarbus ? 
 
 When .Antony found Julius Caesar dead, 
 He cried almost to roaring: and lit- wept. 
 When at Pliili|i))i he found Brutus slain. 
 
 Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with 
 a rheum ; 
 What willingly be did confouud, he wail'd : 
 Believe it, till I weep too. 
 
 Ca-s. No, sweet Octavia, 
 
 You shall hear from me still ; the time shall not 
 Out-go my thinking on you. 
 
 A''it. Come, sir, come ; 
 
 I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love: 
 Look, here I ha\ e you ; thus 1 let you go, 
 And ^ive you to the gods. 
 
 Cees. Adieu ; be happy ! 
 
 Lep. l^et ail the number of tl>e stars give light 
 'I'o thy fair way .' 
 
 Cas. Farewell, farewell ! [Kisses Octavia.) 
 Ant. Farewell ! 
 
 [ Tni mpt Is sound. Exeunt. 
 Scene III. — Alexandria. A Rootn in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and 
 
 Alexas. 
 Cleo. Where is the f How? 
 Alex. Half afeard to corns. 
 
 Cleo. Go to, go to : — Co.re hither, sir. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Alex. Good majesty, 
 
 Herod of Jevvry dare not look upon you, 
 But when you are well pleas'd. 
 
 Cleo. That Herod's head 
 
 I'll have : But how? when Antony is gone, 
 Through whom I might command it. — Come thou 
 near. 
 
 Mes. Most gracious majesty, — 
 
 Cleo. Didst thou behold 
 
 Octavia? 
 
 iMess. Ay, dread queen. 
 
 Cleo. Where ? 
 
 Mess. Madam, in Rome 
 
 I look'd her in the face ; and saw her led 
 Between her brother and Mark Antony. 
 
 Cleo. Is she as tall as me? 
 
 Mess. She is not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Didst hear her speak ? Is she shrill-tonga'd, 
 or low ? [voic'd. 
 
 Mess. Madam, I heard her speak ; she is low- 
 
 Cleo. That's not so good : — fte cannot like her 
 long. 
 
 Char. Like her? O Isis ! 'tis impossible. 
 
 Cleo. I think so, Charmian: Dull of tongue, and 
 dwarfish ! — 
 What majesty is in her gait? Remember, 
 If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. 
 
 Mess. She creeps ; 
 
 Her motion and her station are as one : 
 She shews a hodv rather than a life; 
 A statue, than a breather. 
 
 Cleo. Is this certain ? 
 
 Mess. Or I have no observance. 
 
 Char. Three in Egypt 
 
 Cannot make better note. 
 
 Cliio. He's very knowing, 
 
 I do perceiv't : — There's nothing in her yet : — 
 The lellow has good judgment. 
 
 Char. Excellent 
 
 Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Mess. Madam, 
 
 She was a widow. 
 
 Cleo. Widow ? — Charmian, hark. 
 
 Mess. And I do think, she's thirty. 
 
 Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind ? is it long or 
 round ? 
 
 Mess. Round even to faultiness. 
 
 Cleo. For tiie most part too. 
 
 They are foolish that are so. — Her hair, what co- 
 
 limr ? (low 
 
 Mess. Brown, madam : And her forehead is as 
 As she would wish it. 
 
 Cleo. There is gold for thee. 
 
 Thou must not take my former siiarpness ill : — . 
 1 will employ thee back again ; I find thee 
 Most fit for business : Go, make thee ready ; 
 Our letters are prepar'd. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Char. A proper man. 
 
 Cleo. Indeed, he is so : I repent nie much. 
 That so I harry'd him. Why, methinks, by him. 
 This creature's no such thiwg. 
 
 Char. O, nothing, madam. 
 
 Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and 
 should know. 
 
 Char. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend 
 And serving you so long ! 
 
 Cleo. I have one thing more to a.sk him yet, good. 
 Cliarmian : 
 
616 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act ITT. 
 
 But 'tis no matter; thoii shalt brin°r hini to me. 
 Where 1 will write : All may be well enough. 
 Char. I warrant you, madam. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Athens. A Room in Antony's house. 
 Enter Antony and Octavia. 
 
 Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that, — 
 That were excusable, that, and tlioiisands more 
 Of semblable import. — but he hath wa);d 
 New wars 'gainst Porapey; made his will, and 
 
 read it 
 To public ear ; 
 
 SpoKe scantly of me : when perforce he coul J not 
 But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly 
 He vented them ; most narrow measure lent me : 
 Wlien the best hint was given him, he not took't. 
 Or did it from his teeth. 
 
 Octa, O my good lord. 
 
 Believe not all ; or, if you must believe. 
 Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady. 
 If this division chance, ne'er stood between. 
 Praying for both parts : 
 And the good gods will mock me pre.sently. 
 When I shall ])rny,0, bless nnj lord and husband! 
 Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, 
 0, bless mt/ brother ! Husband win, win brother, 
 Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway 
 'Twixt these extremes at all. 
 
 Ant. Gentle Octavia, 
 
 Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks 
 Best to preserve it : If I lose mine honour, 
 I lose myself : better I were not yours. 
 Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested. 
 Yourself shall go between ns : The mean time, lady, 
 I'll raise the preparation of a war 
 Shall stain your brother; Make your soonest haste ; 
 So your desires are yours. 
 
 Octa. Thanks to my lord. 
 
 The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak. 
 Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be 
 As if the world should cleave, and that slain men 
 Should solder up the rift. 
 
 Ant. When it appears to you where this begins, 
 Turn your displeasure that way ; for our faults 
 Can never be so equal, that your love 
 Can equally move with them. Provide your going ; 
 Choose your own company, and command what cost 
 Your heart has mind to. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. Another Room in the same. 
 Enitr Enobarbus and Eros, meeting. 
 Eno. How now, friend Eros ? 
 Eros. There's strange news come, sir. 
 Eno. What, man ? 
 Eros, Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon 
 
 Pompey. 
 Eno. This is old ; what is the success ? 
 Eros. Caesar, having made use of him in the 
 wars 'gainst Pompey, preeently denied him rivality ; 
 would not let him partake in the glory of the action : 
 and not resting here, accuses him of letters he had 
 formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, 
 seizes him : So the piior third is up, till death en- 
 large his confine. 
 Eno. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no 
 more ; 
 And throw between them all the food thou hast. 
 They'll grind the one the other, Where's Antony? 
 Eros. He's walking in the garden — thus ; and 
 spurns 
 The rush that lies before him ; cries, Fool, Lepidus I 
 And threats the throat of that his officer, 
 I'hat rnurder'd Pompey. 
 
 Eno. Our great navy's rigged. 
 
 Eros. For Italy, and Caesar. More, Domitius ; 
 My lord, desires you presently ; my news 
 I might have told hereafter. 
 
 Eno. 'Twill be naught: 
 
 But let it be. — Bring me to Antony. 
 
 Eroa. Come, sir. [E.xeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Rome. A Room in Casar's house 
 
 Etiter C M.SAR, Agripra, ajid Mec^nas. 
 
 Cfes. Contemning Rome, he has done all this : 
 And more : 
 In Alexandria, — here's the manner of it, — 
 r the market-place, on a tribimal silver'rl, 
 Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold 
 Were publicly enthron'd : at the feet, sat 
 Cafsarion, whom they call my father's son; 
 And all the unlawful issue, that their lust 
 Since then hath made between them. Unto her 
 He gave the 'stablishmeot of Egypt; made her 
 Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Liydia, 
 Absolute queen. 
 
 Mec. This in the public eye ? 
 
 Cas. I' the common shew place, where thej 
 exercice. 
 His sons he there proclaim'd, The kings of kings : 
 Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, 
 He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd 
 Syria, Cicilia, and Phsenicia : She 
 In the habiliments of the goddess Isis 
 That day appear'd : and oft before gave audience. 
 As 'tis reported, so. 
 
 Mec. Let Rome be thus 
 
 Inforra'd. 
 
 Agr. Who, queasy with his insolence. 
 Already, will their good thoughts call from him. 
 
 Cte. The people know it ; and have now receiv'd 
 His accusations. 
 
 Agr. Whom does he accuse ? 
 
 Cees. Caesar: and that, having in Sicily 
 Sextus Pompeins spoii'd, we had not rated him 
 His part o' the isle : then does he say, he lent me 
 Some shipping unrestor'd : lastly, he frets. 
 That Lepidus of the triumvirate 
 Shor.ld be depos'd ; and, being, that we detaio 
 All his revenue. 
 
 Agr. Sir, this should be answer'd. 
 
 Cess, 'Tis done already, and the messenger gone, 
 I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel ; 
 That he his high authority abns'd, 
 And did deserve his change ; for what I've conquer' d, 
 I grant him part ; but then, in his Arn)enia, 
 And other oi his conquer'd kingdom^, I 
 Demand the like. 
 
 Mec. He'll never yield to that 
 
 Ca:s. Nor must not then be yielded to in this. 
 
 Enter Octavja. 
 
 Octa. Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hai), most dea 
 Caesar! 
 
 C<es. That ever I should call thee, cast-away ! 
 
 Octa. You have not call'd me so, nor have yo 
 cause. [come no 
 
 Cces. Why have yon stol'n upon ns thus ? Yo 
 Like.Csesar's sister : The wife of Antony 
 Should have an army for an <»sher, and 
 The neighs of horse to tell of her approach. 
 Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way 
 Should have borne men ; and expectation tainted 
 Longing for what it had not : nay, the dust 
 Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
 Rais'd by your populous troops : But you are cona 
 A market- maid to Rome ; and have prevented 
 The ostent of our love, which, left unshewn, 
 Is often left unlov'd : we should have met yort 
 By sea, and land ; supplying every stage 
 VVith an augmented greeting. 
 
 Octa, Good my lord. 
 
 To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it 
 On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, 
 Hearing that you prepar'd for wan acquainted 
 My grieved ear withal : whereon, I begg'd 
 His pardon for return. 
 
 Cas. Which soon he granted 
 
 Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and hJni,. 
 
 Octa. Do not say so, my lord, 
 
 Cas. I have eyes u|>on tsua 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 617 
 
 And his affairs come to me on the wind. 
 Where is he now ? 
 
 Octa. My lord, in Athens. 
 
 Ctes. No, my most wronged sister ; Cleopatra 
 Hath nodded iii'm to her. He hath given his empire 
 Up to a whore : who now are leNying 
 The kings o'the earth for war : He hath assembled 
 Bocchus, the king of Lyhia ; Archelaus, 
 Of Cappadoria ; Piiiladelphos, king 
 Of Paplilagoiiia ; the Thracian king, Adallas : 
 King JNlalciius of Arabia; king of Pont; 
 Heroid of Jewry; Mitiiridates, king 
 Of Comagene ; Polemon and Amintas, 
 'I'he kings of Mede, and Lycaonia, with a 
 More larger list of sceptres. 
 
 Otta. Ah me, most wretched, 
 
 Tliat have my heart parted betwixt two friends, 
 That do atHict each other! 
 
 Cas. Welcome hither : 
 
 Your letters did withhold our breaking ibrth ; 
 Till we perceiv'd, both how yon were wrong led, 
 And we in negligent danger. Clieer your heart : 
 Be you not troubled with the time, which drives 
 O'er your content these strong necessities ; 
 But let determin'd tilings to destiny 
 Hold unbewail'd their way. W^elcome to Rome : 
 Nothing more dear to me. You are abns'd 
 Beyond the maik of thought : and the high gods, 
 To do you justice, make them ministers 
 Of us, and those tliat love you. Best of comfort ; 
 And ever welcome to us, 
 
 Agr. Welcome, lady. 
 
 Mec. Welcome, dear madam. 
 Each heart in Rome does lo\ e and pity you ; 
 Only the adulterous Antony, most large 
 In his abominations, turns you otf ; 
 And gives his potent regiuieut to a trull, 
 That noises it against us. 
 
 Octa, Is it so, sir? 
 
 Cas. Most certain. Sister, welcome : Pray you. 
 Be ever known to patience : My dearest s/ster ! 
 
 lExeu7it. 
 
 Scene VII. — Atitony''s Camp, near the Promontory 
 of Actium. 
 
 Enter Cleopatr.\ and Enobarbos. 
 
 Cleo. I will be even with thee, doubt it not. 
 
 Eno. But, why, w hy, why i 
 
 Cleo. 'J'hou hast forspoke my being in these wars ; 
 And .say'st, it is not fit. 
 
 Eno Well, is it, is it? 
 
 Cieo. Is't not? Denounce against us, why shoidd 
 not we 
 Be there in person? 
 
 Ella. {Astde.) Well, I could reply : — 
 If we should serve with horse and mares together, 
 The iiorse were merely lost; the mares would bear 
 A soldier, and his horse. 
 
 C/«o. What is't you say : 
 
 E}io. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony ; 
 Take from his heart, take from his brain, from his 
 
 time. 
 What should not then be spar'd. He is already 
 Traduc'd for levity ; and 'tis said in Rome, 
 That Photiiuis an eunuch, and your maids, 
 Manage this war. 
 
 Cleo. Sink Rome ; and their tongues rot. 
 
 That speak against us ! A charge we bear i' the war, 
 And, as the president of my kingdom, will 
 Appear there for a man. Speak not against it ; 
 I will not stay behind. 
 
 Eno. Nay, I have done : 
 
 Here comes the emperor. 
 
 Enter Antony and Canidius. 
 
 Ant. Is't not strange, Canidius, 
 
 That from Tarentum, and Brundusium, 
 He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, 
 An* take in 'I'oryue ? — You have heard on't, sweet ? 
 
 Cleo. Celerity is never more admir'd, 
 Than by the negligent. 
 
 Ant. A good rebuke. 
 
 Which might have well becom'd the best of men. 
 To taunt at slackness. — Canidius, we 
 Will tight with him by sea. 
 
 Cleo. By sea ! What else ? 
 
 Can. Why will my lord do so ? , 
 
 Ant. For he dares us (o't 
 
 Eno. So hath my lord dar'd him to single fight. 
 
 Can. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia, 
 "Where Cajsar fought with Pompey : But these 
 
 offers, 
 Which serve cot for his vantage, he shakes oft"; 
 And so should you. 
 
 Eno. Your ships are not well mann'di 
 
 Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people 
 Ingross'd by swift impress : in Caesar's ffeet 
 Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought 
 Their ships are yare ; yours, heavy. No disgrace 
 Shall fall you for refusing him at sea. 
 Being prepar'd for land. 
 
 Ant. By sea, by sea. 
 
 Eno. Most worthy sir, you therein throw away 
 The absolute soldiership you have by land ; 
 Distract your army, which doth most consist 
 Of war-iuark'd footmen; leave unexecuted 
 Your own renowned knowledge ; quite forego 
 The way which promises assurance ; and 
 Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard, 
 From firm security. 
 
 Ant. I'll fight at sea. 
 
 Cleo. I have sixty sails, Caesar none better. 
 
 Ant. Our overplus of shipping will we burn; 
 And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the head oi 
 
 Actium 
 Beat the approaching Caesar. But. if we fail. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 We then can do't at land. — Thy business ? 
 
 Mess. The news is true, my lord ; he is descried , 
 Caesar has taken Toryne. 
 
 Ant. Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible; 
 Strange, that his power should be. — Canidius, 
 Our nineteen legions thou shalthold by land. 
 And our twelve thousand horse : — We'll to out 
 ship; 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 Away, my Thetis ! — How now, worthy soldier? 
 
 Sold. O noble emperor, do not fight by sea ; 
 Trust not to rotten planks. Do you misdoubt 
 This sword, and these my wounds? Let the Egyp- 
 tians, 
 And the Phoenicians, go a ducking ; we 
 Have used to conquer, standing on the earth. 
 And fighting foot to foot. 
 
 Ant. Well, well, away. 
 
 Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, ane 
 Enobarbtis. 
 
 Sold. By Hercules, 1 think, 1 am ithe right. 
 
 Can. Soldier, thou art : but his whole action 
 grows 
 Not in the power on't : So our leader's led. 
 And we are women's men. 
 
 Sold. You keep by land 
 
 The legions and the horse w'.iole, do you not? 
 
 Can. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, 
 Publicola, and Ctelius, are for sea: 
 But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's 
 Carries beyond belief. 
 
 Sold. VVhile he was yet in Rome 
 
 His power went out in such distractions, as 
 Beguil'd all spies. 
 
 Can. Who's his lieutenant, hear yon? 
 
 Sold. They say, one Taurus. 
 
 Can. Well I know thts maa 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Mess. The emperor calls for Canidius. 
 
618 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act IIT. 
 
 Can. With news the time's with labour; and 
 tliroes forth, 
 Each minute, some. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. — A Plain near Actium, 
 
 Enter C^SAR, Taurus, Officers, and others. 
 
 Cees. Taurus, — 
 
 Taur. My lord. 
 
 Ccbs. Strike not by land ; keep whole : 
 
 Provoke not battle, till we have done at sea. 
 Do not exceed tlie prescript of this scroll : 
 Our fortune lies upon this jump. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter ANTHOi>fY and Enobarbus. 
 Ant. Set we our squadrons on yon side o'the hill, 
 111 eye of Cajsar's battle ; from wiiich place 
 We may the number of the ships behold, 
 And so proceed accordingly. [Exeunt. 
 
 Elder Canidius, marching with his land Army one 
 way over the stage; awa J'aurus, the Lieutenant 
 ofCeBsar, the other way. After their going in, 
 is heard the noise of a sea-fight. 
 
 Alarum. /Je-enier Enobarbus. 
 Eno. Naught, naught, all naught ! I can behold 
 no longer : 
 
 The Antoniad, the. Egyptian admiral. 
 
 With all their sixty, fly, and turn the rudder; 
 
 To see't, miue eyes are blasted. 
 
 Enter Scarus. 
 
 Scar. Gods, and goddesses. 
 
 All the whole synod of them! 
 
 Eno. What's thy passion ? 
 
 Scar. The greater cantle of the world is lost 
 With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away 
 Kingdoms and provinces. 
 
 Eno. How appears the fight ? 
 
 Scar. On our side like the token'd pestilence, 
 Where death is sure. Yon' ribald-rid nag of 
 
 Egypt, 
 Whom leprosy o'ertake ! i' the midst o'the fight, — 
 When vantage like a pair of twins appeard. 
 Both as the same, or rather ours the elder, — 
 The brize upon her, like a cow in June, 
 Hoists sails and flies. 
 
 Eno. That I beheld : mine eyes 
 
 Did sicken at the sight on't, and could not 
 Endure a further view. 
 
 Scar. She once being looPd 
 
 The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, 
 Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard. 
 Leaving the tight in height, flies after her : 
 I never saw an action of such shame ; 
 Exuerience, manhood, honour, ne'er before 
 Did violate so itself. 
 
 Eno. Alack, alack ! 
 
 Enter Canidius. 
 
 Can. Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, 
 .\nd sinks most lamentably. Had our general 
 Been what he kiiew himself, it had gone well : 
 O, he has given example tor our flight, 
 Most grossly, by his own. [night, 
 
 Eno. Ay, are you thereabouts? Why, then, good 
 Indeed. (Aside.) 
 
 Can. Towards Peloponnesus are they fled. 
 
 Scar. ''I'is easy to't ; and there I will attend 
 What further comes. 
 
 Can. To Caesar will I render 
 
 My legions, and my horse ; six kings already 
 Shew me the way of yielding. 
 
 Eno. Ill yet follow 
 
 The wounded chance of Antony, tiiough my reason 
 Sits in the wind against me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Sjenk IX. — Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Antony and Attendants. 
 Ant. Hark, the land bids me tie;id no more 
 upon t, 
 
 It is asham'd to bear me ! — Friends, come hither. 
 I am so lated in the world, that I 
 Have lost my way for ever:— I have a ship 
 Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly. 
 And make your peace with Caesar. 
 
 Ait. Fly ! not we. 
 
 Ant. I have fled myself; and have instructed 
 cowards _ [gone ; 
 
 To run, and shew their shoulders. — Friends, be- 
 I have myself resolv'd upon a course, 
 Which has no need of you ; be gone. 
 My treasure's in the harbour, take it. — O, 
 I foUow'd tliat I blush to look upon : 
 My very hairs do mutiny; for the white 
 Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them 
 For fear and doting. — Friends, oe gone ; you shall 
 Have letters from me to some friends, that will 
 Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad. 
 Nor make replies of loathuess : lake the hint 
 Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left 
 Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway : 
 I will possess you of that ship and treasure. 
 Leave me, I pray, a little : 'pray you now : — 
 Nay, do so ; for indeed. I have lost command. 
 Therefore I pray you : — I'll see you by and by. 
 
 (Sits doivn.) 
 
 Enter Eros and Cleopatra, led by Charmian 
 and Iras. 
 
 Eros. Nay, gentle madam, to him : — Comfort 
 
 Iras. Do, most dear queen. [him. 
 
 Char. Do ! Why, what else ? 
 
 Cleo. Let me sit down. O Judo! 
 
 Ant. No, DO, no, no, no. 
 
 Eros, See you here, sir ? 
 
 Ant. O fy, fy, ly. 
 
 Char. Madam, — 
 
 Iras. Madam; O good empress! 
 
 Eros. Sir, sir, — 
 
 Ant. Yes, my lord, ves : — He, at Philippi, kept 
 His sword even like a dancer, while I struck 
 The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I, 
 That the mad Brutus ended : he alone 
 Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had 
 In the brave squares of war : Yet now — No matter. 
 
 Cleo. Ah, stand by. 
 
 Eros. The queen, my lord, the queen. 
 
 Iras. Go to him, maaam, speak to him; 
 He is unqnalitied with very shame. 
 
 Cleo. Well then, — Sustain me : — O ! 
 
 Eros. Most noble sir, arise ; the queen ap- 
 proaches ; 
 Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her; but 
 Your comfort makes the rescue. 
 
 Ant. I ha\ e otfeiided reputation ; 
 A most unnoble swerving. 
 
 Eros. Sir, the queen. 
 
 Ant. O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See 
 How I convey my shame out of thine eyes 
 By looking back on what I have lelt beliind, 
 'Stroy'd in dishonour. 
 
 Cleo. O my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Forgive my fearful sails I I little thought, 
 You would have foUow'd. 
 
 Ant. Egypt, thou knew'st too well. 
 
 My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings, 
 And thou should'st tow me after: O'er my spirit 
 Thy full supremacy thou knew"st; and that 
 Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods 
 Cojnmand me. 
 
 Cleo. O, my pardon. 
 
 Ant. Now I must 
 
 To the young man send humble treaties, dodge 
 I And palter in the shifts of lowness; who 
 
 With half the bulk othe world play'd as I pleasd, 
 I Making and marring fortunes. You did know, 
 How much you were ray conqueror; and that 
 l\Iy sword, made weak by my atlVction, would 
 Ohev it on all cause. 
 I cleo. O pardon, pardon. 
 
Scene 11. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 619 
 
 Ani. Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates 
 All that is won and lost : Give me a kiss ; 
 Even this repays me. — We sent our schoolmaster, 
 Is he come back ? — Love, I aui lull of lead : — 
 6ouie wine, within there, and our viands. — Fortune 
 
 knows, 
 ^^'e scorn her most, when most she offers blows. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene X. — Casar's Camp, in E'jijpt. 
 
 Enter CAESAR, Dolabella, Tm'KEUs, and others. 
 
 Ctes. Let him appear that's come from Antony. — 
 Know you him? 
 
 Dol. Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster: 
 
 An argument that he ispluck'd, when hitber 
 He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, 
 Which had superfluous kings for messengers, 
 Not many moons gone by. 
 
 Enter Euphronius. 
 
 C<Bs. Approach, and speak. 
 
 Eup. Such as I am, I come from Antony ; 
 [ was of late as petty to his ends. 
 As is the raorn-uew on the myrtle leaf 
 To [lis grand sea. 
 
 C<es. Be it so ; Declare thine office. 
 
 Eup. Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and 
 Requires to live in Egypt : which not granted, 
 He lessens his requests ; and to tliee sues 
 To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, 
 A private man in Athens : This for him. 
 Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness; 
 Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves 
 The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, 
 Now hazarded to thy grace. 
 
 C<Bs. For Antony, 
 
 I have no ears to his request The queen 
 Of audience, nor desire, shall fail; so she 
 From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, 
 Or take iiis lite there : This if she perform. 
 She shall not sue unheard. So to tnem both. 
 
 Eup. Fortune pursue thee ! 
 
 Cces\ Bring him through the bands. 
 
 [Exit Euphronius. 
 To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time : Desjiatch ; 
 From Antony win Cleopatra : promise, [ToThyreus.) 
 And in our name, what she requires ; add more. 
 From thine invention, offers : women are not, 
 In their best fortunes, strong; but want will per- 
 jure 
 The ne'er- touch'd vestal : Try thy cunning, Thyreus, 
 Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we 
 Will answer as a law. 
 
 Thyr. Caesar, I go. 
 
 C<ss. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw ; 
 And what thou think'st his very action speaks 
 In e^ery power that moves. 
 
 Thyr. Caesar, I shall. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene XI. — Alexandria, A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charimian, and 
 Iras. 
 Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus ? 
 
 Eno. 
 
 Think, and die. 
 
 Cleo. Is Antony, or we, in fault for this ? 
 
 Eno. Antony only, that would make his will 
 Lord of his reason. What althougli you fled 
 From that great face of war, whose several ranges 
 Frighted eacli other? why should he follow? 
 The itch of Iiis afl'ection should not then 
 Hiive nitk'd his captainshio; at such a point. 
 When half to half the world oppos'd, he being 
 The Dicred question : 'Twas a shame no less 
 '! hiiu was his loss, to course your flying flags. 
 Ami leave his navy gazing. 
 
 Ctcn. Pr'ythee, peace. 
 
 Enter Antony, with Euphronius. 
 
 Ant. Is this his aaiwer? 
 
 Evp. Ay, my lord. 
 
 ■A^»t' The qttee 
 
 Shall then have coartesy, so she will yield 
 Us up. 
 
 Eup. He says so. 
 
 Ant. Let her know it 
 
 To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head. 
 And he will fill thy wishes to the brim 
 With principalities. 
 
 Cleo. That head, my lord ? 
 
 Ant. To him again ; Tell him, he wears the rose 
 Of youth upon him; from which the world should 
 
 note 
 Something particular : his coin, ships, legions. 
 May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail 
 Unaer the service of a child, as soon 
 As i' the command of Caesar : I dare him therefore 
 To lay his gay comparisons apart. 
 And answer me declin'd, sword a^inst sword. 
 Ourselves alone : I'll write it; follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt Antony and Euphronius 
 
 Eno. Yes, like enough, high- battled Ca;sar wili 
 Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the shew 
 Against a sworcier. — I see men's judgments are 
 A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward 
 Do draw the inward quality after them, 
 'J'o sufter all alike. 1 hat he should dream. 
 Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will 
 Answer his emptiness ! — Caesar, thou hast subdud 
 His judgment too. 
 
 Enter an Attendant. 
 Att. A messenger from Caesar. 
 
 Cleo. What, no more ceremony ? — See , ray 
 women ! — 
 Against the blown rose may they stop their nose„ 
 That kneei'd unto the buds. — Admit him, sir. 
 Eno. Mine honesty, and I, begin to square. 
 
 (Aside. 
 The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 
 Our faith mere folly : Yet, he, that can endure 
 To follow with allegiance a fallen lord. 
 Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
 And earns a place i' the story. 
 
 Enter Thyreus. 
 
 Cleo. Ciesar's will ? 
 
 Thyr. Hear it apart. 
 
 Cleo. None but friends; say boldly. 
 
 Thyr. So, hanly, are they friends to Antony. 
 
 E?to. He neeas as many, sir, as Ctesar has ; 
 Or needs not us. If Csesar please, our master 
 Will leap to be his friend : For us, you know. 
 Whose he is, we are ; and that's, Caesar's. 
 
 Thyr. So.— 
 
 Thus then, thou most renow'd : Caesar entreats. 
 Not to consider in what case tnou stand'st. 
 Further than he is Cajsar. 
 
 Cleo. Go on ; Right royal. 
 
 Thyr. He knows, that you embrace not Antony 
 As vou did love, but as you fear'd him. 
 
 Cko. O! 
 
 Thyr. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he 
 Does pity as constrained blemishes. 
 Not as deserv'd. 
 
 Cleo. He is a god, and knows 
 
 What is roost right: Mine honour was not yielded 
 But conqiier'd Eer»'ly. 
 
 E?io. To be sure of that, {Aside. 
 
 I will ask Antony. — Sir, sir, thou'rt so leaky. 
 That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for 
 Thv dearest quit tliee. [Exit Enobarbus. 
 
 Thyr. Shall I say to Caesar 
 
 What you require of him ? for he partly begs 
 'J'o be nesir'd to give. It much would please hinw 
 That of his tortmies you should make a staff 
 To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits. 
 To hear from me you had left Antony, 
 And put yourself under his shroud. 
 The universal landlord. 
 
 Ulco What's year oame f 
 
620 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act hi 
 
 Thvr. My name is Thyreus. 
 
 {Jleo. Most kind messenger, 
 
 Say to great Caesar this; In disputation 
 I kiss his conqu'ring hand : tell liim, I am prompt 
 To lay my crown at his ("eet, and there to kneel : 
 Tell liim, from his all-obeying breath I hear 
 'Ihe doom of Egypt. 
 
 Thyr. 'Tis your noblest course. 
 
 Wisdom and fortune combating together, 
 If that the former dare but what it can, 
 No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay 
 Aly duty on your hand. 
 
 Cleo. Vour Caesar's father 
 
 Oft, when he hath nius'd of taking kingdoms in, 
 Bestovv'd his lips on that unworthy place. 
 As it raiii'd kisses. 
 
 Re-enter Antony and Enobarbus. 
 
 Ant. Favours, by Jove that thunders ! — 
 
 What art thou, fellow? 
 
 Thyr. One, that but performs, 
 
 The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest 
 To have conmiand obey'd. 
 
 Eno. You will be whipp'd. 
 
 Ant. Approach, there: — Ay, you kite! — Now 
 gods and devils ! 
 Authority melts from me : Of late, w hen I cry'd, ho I 
 Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth. 
 And cry. Your will? Have you no ears ? I am 
 
 Enter Attendants. 
 Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him. 
 
 Eno. Tis better playing with a lion's whelp, 
 Than with an old one dying. 
 
 Ant. Moon and stars ! 
 
 Whip him :- Weret twenty of the greatest tribu- 
 taries 
 That do acknowledge Csesar, should I find them 
 So saucy with the hand of she here, (What's her 
 
 name, 
 Since she was Cleopatra ?) — Whip him, fellows. 
 Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face, 
 And whine aloud for mercy: Take him hence. 
 Thyr. Mark Antony,— 
 
 Ant. Tug him away : being whipp'd. 
 
 Bring him again : — This Jack of Caesar's shall 
 Bear us an errand to him. — 
 
 [Exeunt Attend, with Thyr. 
 You were half blasted ere I knew you : — Ha ! 
 Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, 
 Forborne the getting of a lawful race, 
 And by a gem of women, to be abus'd 
 By one that looks ou feeders i 
 
 Cleo. Good my lord, — 
 
 Ant. You have been a boggier exer: — 
 But when we in our viciousness grow hard, 
 (O misery on't !) the wise gods seel our eyes ; 
 in our own filth drop our clear judgments ; make us 
 Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut 
 To our confusion. 
 Cleo. O, is it come to this ? 
 
 Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon 
 Dead Csesar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment 
 Of Cneius Pompey's ; besides wnat hotter hours, 
 Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have 
 Luxuriously pick'd out : — For, I am sure. 
 Though you can guess what temperance should be. 
 Yon know not what it is. 
 Cleo. Wherefore is this ? 
 
 Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards. 
 And say, Ood quit you', be familiar with 
 My playfellow, your hand ; this kingly seal. 
 And plighter of high hearts ! — O, that I were 
 Upon ttie hill of Hasan, to outroar 
 The liorned herd ! lor I have savage cause; 
 And to proclaiui it civilly, were like 
 ■A halter'a neck, which does the hangman thank 
 For being yare about him. — Is he whipp'd :* 
 
 Re-enter Attendants loith Thyreus. 
 I Att. Souudiv, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd he pardon? 
 
 1 Att. He did ask favour. 
 Ant. If that tiiy father live, let him repent 
 Thou wast not made his daughter; and he thou sorry 
 To follow Caesar in his triumph, since 
 Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: hence- 
 The white hand of a lady fever thee, [tbrtb. 
 
 Shake thou to look on't. — Get thee back to Cajsar, 
 Tell him thy entertainment : Look, thou say. 
 He makes me angry with him: for he seems 
 Proud and disdainful ; harping on what I am ; 
 Not what he knew I was: He makes me angry; 
 And at this time most easy 'tis to do't ; 
 When my good stars, that were my former guides^ 
 Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 
 Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike 
 My speech, and what is done ; tell him, he has 
 Hipparchus, my enfranchis'd bondman, whom 
 He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture. 
 As he shall like, to quit me : Urge it thou : 
 Hence, with thy stripes, begone. [Exit Thyreus. 
 Cleo. Have you done yet ? 
 
 Ant. Alack, our terrene moon 
 
 Is now edips'd ; and it portends alone 
 The iall of Antony ! 
 
 Cleo. I must stry his time. 
 
 Ant. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes 
 With one that ties his points ? 
 
 Cleo. Not know me yet? 
 
 Ant. Cold-hearted toward me ? ■ 
 Cleo. Ah, dear, '\i\ be so, 
 
 From my cold heart let heaven engender hail. 
 And poison it in the .source ; and the first stone 
 Drop in my neck : as it determines, so 
 Dissolve my life ! The next Caesarion smite ! 
 Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb. 
 Together with my brave Egyptians all, 
 By the discandying of this pelleted storm. 
 Lie graveless ; till the flies and gnats of Nile 
 Have buried them tor prey ! 
 
 Ant. [ am satisfied 
 
 Csesar sits down in Alexandria ; where 
 I will oppose his fate. Our force by land 
 Hath nobly held ; our sever'd navy too 
 Have knit again, and fleet, threrft'ning most sea-like 
 Where hast thou been, my heart ? — Dost thou hear 
 
 , lady? 
 If from the field I shall return once more 
 To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood ; 
 I and my sword will earn our chronicle ; 
 There is hope in it yet. 
 
 Cleo, That's my brave lord ! 
 
 Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd. 
 And fight maliciously: for when mine hours 
 Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives 
 Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth. 
 And send to darkness all that stop me. — Come, 
 Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me 
 All my sad captains, till our bowls ; once more 
 Let's mock the midnight bell. 
 
 Cleo. It is my birth day : 
 
 f had thought to have held it poor; but, since my lord 
 Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. 
 Ant. We'll yet do well. 
 Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord. 
 Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them ; and to-niglit 
 I'll force [queen ; 
 
 The wine peep through their scars. — Come on, my 
 'i'here's sap in't yet. The next time I do tight, 
 I'll make deatli love me ; for I will contend 
 Even with his pestilent scythe. 
 
 {Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and Attendante, 
 Eno. Now he'll out-stare the lightumg. To b« 
 furious, 
 Is, to be frighted out of fear: and, in that mood. 
 The dove will peck the estridge : and I see still, 
 A diminution in our captain's brain 
 Restores his heart: When valour preys on ireajou. 
 It eats the sword it fights with. 1 will seek 
 Some way to leave him. [ExiL 
 
Act IV. ScEXE 4. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 621 
 
 ACT. IV. 
 
 Scene I. — CtEsar's Camp at Alexandria. 
 
 Enter C^sar, reading a letter; Agrippa, 
 Mec^nas, and others. 
 
 Cas. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had 
 power 
 To beat nie out of Ejiypt: my messeDjrer 
 He hatli wliipp'd Vt-ith rods; dares me to personal 
 
 combat, 
 Csesar to Antony: Let the old ruffian know 
 I have many other ways to die ; mean time, 
 Laugh at his cliallenge. 
 
 Mec. Caesar must think, 
 
 When one so o;rent befjins to rage, he's hunted 
 Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now 
 Make boot of his di.straction : Never anger 
 Made good guard for itself. 
 
 Cois. Let our best beads 
 
 Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles 
 We mean to fight: — Within our files there are 
 Of those, that serv'd Mark Antony but late, 
 Enough to fetch him in. See it be done ; 
 And feast the army : we have store to do't. 
 And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Alexandria. A Room in the palace. 
 Enter Anton^', Cleopatr.v, Enodarbus, Char- 
 MiAN, [ras, Alex.\s, and others. 
 
 Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius. 
 
 Eno. No. 
 
 Ant. Why should he not? [fortune, 
 
 Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better 
 He is twenty men to one. 
 
 Ant. To-morrow, soldier, 
 
 . By sea and land I'll li^ht; or I will live. 
 Or bathe my dying honour in the blood 
 Shall make it live ai;ain. Woo't thou fight well? 
 
 Eno, I'll strike ; and cry. Take all. 
 
 Ant. W'ell said : come on. — 
 
 Call fortli my household servants : let's to-night 
 
 Enter Servants. 
 
 Be boimteons at our meal. — Give me thy hand. 
 Thou hast been rightly honest ; — so hast thou ; 
 And tiiou, — and thou, — and thou^You have serv'd 
 
 me well, 
 And kings have been your fellows. 
 
 Cleo. What means this ? 
 
 Eno. 'Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow 
 shoots • {Aside.) 
 
 Out of the mind. 
 
 Ant. And thou art honest too. 
 
 I wisii, I could be made so many men ; 
 And all of you clapp'd np together in 
 An Antony; that 1 might do you service. 
 So good as you have done. 
 
 Serv, The gods forbid 1 
 
 Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night; 
 Scant not my cups ; and make as much of me. 
 As when mine empire was your fellow too. 
 And suff'er'd my command. 
 
 Cleo, W^hat does he mean ? 
 
 Eno. To make his followers weep. 
 
 Ant. _ Tend me to-night ; 
 
 May be, it is the period of your duty : 
 Haply, you shall not see me more ; or if, 
 A mangled shadow: perchance, to-morrow 
 You'll serve anotlier master. I look on you. 
 As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, 
 I turn you not away ; but, like a master 
 Married to your good service, stay till death: 
 Tend me to night two hours, I ask no more. 
 And the gods yield you for't ! 
 
 Emo. What mean you, sir, 
 
 To give them this discomfort ? Look, they weep 5 
 Ana I, an ass, am onion-ey'd ; for shame, 
 Transform ms not to women ! 
 
 Ani. Ho, ho, ho ! 
 
 Now the witch take me, ifl meant it thus! 1 
 Grace grow where tiiose drops fall! My hearty 
 
 friends. 
 You take me in too dolorous a sense • 
 I spake to you for your comfort ; did desire you 
 To burn this night with torches: Know, my hearts, 
 I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you, 
 Where rather I'll expect victorious life. 
 Than death and honour. Let's to supper: come 
 And drown consideration. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene HI. — The same. Before the Palace, 
 
 Enter tivo Soldiers, to their Guard. 
 1 Sold. Brother, good night: to morrow is (he day. 
 ^ Sold, It will determine one way: fare you well. 
 Heard you of nothing strange about the streets':? 
 
 1 Sold. Nothing : What news '? 
 
 2 Sold. Belike, 'tis but a rumour: 
 Good night to you. 
 
 1 Sold, Well, sir, good night. 
 
 Enter two other Soldiers, 
 
 2 Sold. Soldiers, 
 Have careful watch. 
 
 3 Sold. And you : Good night, good night. 
 [The first two place themselves at their posts.) 
 
 4 Sold, Here we : [They take their posts.) and if 
 
 to-morrow 
 Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope 
 Our landmen will stand up. 
 
 3 Sold. 'Tis a brave army, 
 And full of purpose. 
 
 {Music of hautboys under the stage,) 
 
 4 Sold. Peace, what noise ? 
 
 1 Sold, List, list! 
 
 2 Sold. Hark ! 
 
 1 Sold. Music i'the air 
 
 3 Sold. Under the earth. 
 
 4 Sold, It signs well, 
 Does't not ? 
 
 3 Sold. No. [mean? 
 
 I Sold. Peace, I say. What should this 
 
 1 Sold. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd. 
 Now leaves him. 
 
 1 Sold. Walk ; let's see if other watchmen 
 Do hear what we do. (They advance to another 
 
 post.) 
 
 2 Sold, How now, masters ? 
 Sold, ' How 
 
 How now ? do you hear this ? 
 
 {Several speaking together.) 
 1 Sold, Ay ; Is't not strange? 
 
 .3 Sold. Do you hear, masters:' do you hear'? 
 1 Sold, Follow the noise so far as we ha\ e quarter; 
 Let's see how't will give oft'. 
 
 Sold. [Several speaking.) Content : 'Tis strange. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene IV. — The same. A Boom in the Palace, 
 
 Enter Antony and Cleopatra ; Charmian, and 
 others, attending. 
 
 Ant. Eros ! mine armour, Eros ! 
 Cleo, Sleep a little. 
 
 Ant, No, my chuck. — Eros, come ; mine armour, 
 Eros! 
 
 Enter Eros, with armour 
 
 Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on; — 
 If fortune be not ours to-day, it is 
 Because we brave her. — Come. 
 
 Cleo. Nay, I'll help toa 
 
 What's this for? 
 
 Ant. Ah, let be, let be I thou art 
 
 The armourer of my heart . — False, false ; this, this. 
 
 Cleo. Sooth, la, I'll help: Thus it most be 
 
 Ant. We 11, -well: 
 
 We shall thrive now.— Seest thon, ray good fellow ? 
 Go, put on thy defences. 
 
 Eros, Briefly, sir. 
 
 Cleo. Is not this buckled well ? 
 
 now! 
 
622 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act IV 
 
 Ant. Rarely, rarely : 
 
 He that unbuckles this, till we do please 
 To doft''t for our repose, shall hear a storm. — 
 Thou fumblest, Eros ; and my queen's a squire 
 More tight at this, than thou : Despatch. — O love, 
 That thou could'st see my \Vars to day, and knew'st 
 The royal occupation ! thou should'st see 
 
 Enter an Officer, armed. 
 
 A workman in't. — Good morrow to thee ; welcome : 
 Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge : 
 To business that we love, we rise betime. 
 And go to it with delight 
 
 1 Off] A thousand, sir. 
 Early though it be, have on their riveted trim, 
 And at the port expect you. 
 
 [Shout. Trumpets. Flourish.) 
 
 Enter other Officers, and Soldiers. 
 
 2 Off'. The morn is fair. — Good-morrow, general. 
 All. Good- morrow, general. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis well blown, lads. 
 
 This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
 That means to be of note, begins betimes. — 
 So, so; come, give me that : this way ; well said. 
 Fare thee well, darae, whate'er becomes of me : 
 This is a soldier's kiss, rebukable, [Kisses her.) 
 And worthy shameful check it were, to stand 
 On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee 
 Now, like a man of steel. — You, that will light, 
 Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. — Adieu. 
 
 [Exeunt Antony, Eros, Officers, and Soldiirs. 
 
 Char. Please you, retire to your chamber? 
 
 Cleo. Lead me. 
 
 He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cassar might 
 Determine tiiis great War in single tight ! 
 Then, Antony — But now, — Well, on. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Antony's Camp near Alexandria. 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Antony and Eros; a 
 Soldier ?neeting them. 
 
 Sold. The gods make this a happy day to An 
 tony ! [prevail'd 
 
 Ant. 'Would, thou and those thy scars had once 
 To make me fight at land ! 
 
 Sold. Had'st thou done so, 
 
 The kings that have revolted, and the soldier 
 That has this morning left thee,^would have still 
 Follow'd thy heels. 
 
 Ant. Who's gone this morning f 
 
 Sold. Who ? 
 
 One ever near thee : Call for Enobarbns, 
 He shall not hear thee ; or from Ctesar's camp 
 Say, I am none of thine. 
 
 Ant. What say'st thou ? 
 
 Sold Sir, 
 
 He is with Cassar. 
 
 Eros. Sir, his chests and treasure 
 
 He has not with him. 
 
 A nt. Is he gone ? 
 
 Sold. Most certain. 
 
 Ant. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it; 
 Detain no jot, I charge thee : write to him 
 (I will subscribe) gentle adieus, and greetings : 
 Say, that I wish he never find more cause 
 To change a master. — O, my fortunes have 
 Corrupted honest men : — Eros, despatch. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Yl. —Casar's Camp before Alexandria. 
 Flourish. Enter C^SAR, with Agrippa, 
 
 Enobarbus, and others. 
 C<e9. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight: 
 Our will IS, Antony be took alive ; 
 Make it so known. 
 
 ^,9'"- ,„, . CKsar, I shall. [Exit Agrippa. 
 
 C«s. Ihe time of universal peace is near: 
 1 rov» this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world 
 Shall bear the olive freely. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Antony 
 
 Is come into the field. 
 
 Cas. Go, charge Agrippa : 
 
 Plant those that have revolted in the van. 
 That Antony may seem to spend his fury 
 Upon himself. [Exeunt Ccesar and his Train.) 
 
 Eno. Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry, 
 On affairs of Antony '. there did persuade 
 Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar, ^ 
 And leave his master Antony: for this pains, 
 Caesar hath hang'd him. Canidius, and the rest. 
 That fell away, have entertainment, but 
 No honourable trust. I have done ill ; 
 Of which I do accuse myself so sorely. 
 That I will joy no more. 
 
 Enter a Soldier of Cuesar'a. 
 
 Sold. Enobarbus, Antony 
 
 Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with 
 His bounty overplus ; The messenger 
 Came on my guard ; and at thy tent is now. 
 Unloading of his mules. 
 
 Eno. I give it you. 
 
 Sold. Mock me not, Enobarbus. 
 
 I tell you true : Best that you saT'd the bringer 
 Out of the host ; I must attend mine office, 
 Or would have don't myself. Your emperor 
 Continues still a Jove. [Exit Soldier. 
 
 Eno. 1 am alone the villain of the earth. 
 And feel I aia so most. O A ntony. 
 Thou mine of bounty, how wonldest thou .lave paid 
 My better service, when my turpitude 
 Thou dost so crown with gold ! This blows my heart: 
 If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean 
 Shall outstrike thouglit : but thought will do't, I feel. 
 I fight against thee ! — No: I will go seek 
 Some ditch, wherein to die; the foul'st best fits 
 My latter part of life. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. — Field of Battle between the Camps. 
 
 Alarum. Drums and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa, 
 and others. 
 
 Agr. Retire, we have engag'd ourselves loo far : 
 Cffisar himself has work, and our oppression 
 Exceeds what we expected. [Exeunt, 
 
 Alarum. EnleAAtiTOHY and ScAnvs, wounded. 
 
 Scar. O my hraye emperor, this is fought, indeed ! 
 Had we done so at first, we had driven them home 
 With clouts about their heads. 
 
 Ant. Thou bleed'st apace. 
 
 Scar. I had a wound here that was like a T. 
 But now 'tis made an H. 
 
 Ant. They do retire. 
 
 Scar. We'll beat 'era into bench-holes; I have yet 
 Room for six scotches more. 
 
 Enter Eros. 
 
 Eros. They are beaten, sir ; and our advantage 
 For a fair victory. [serves 
 
 Scar. Let ns score their backs. 
 
 And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind ; 
 'Tis sport to maul a runner. 
 
 Ant. I will reward thee 
 
 Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold 
 For thy good valour. Come thee on. 
 
 Scar. I'll halt after. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. — Under the Walls of Alexandria. 
 Alarum. Enter Antony, marching ; Scarus, and 
 Forces. 
 Ant. We have beat him to his camp ; Run one 
 before. 
 And let the queen know of our guests.-— To-morrow, 
 Before the sun shall see us. we'll spill the blood 
 That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all : 
 For doughty-handed are you : and have fought 
 
 I Not as you serv'd the cause, but as it had been 
 Each man's like mine ; you liaVe shewn ail Hectors 
 
Scene 10. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 ?,2S 
 
 Rnler the city, clip your wives, your friends, 
 Tell them your feats ; ^vhilst they with joyful tears 
 Wash the confjealment from your wounds, and kiss 
 Tiie lionour'd gashes whole. — Give me tliy hand ; 
 
 {Til Scarus.) 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, attended. 
 
 To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts. 
 
 Make her thanks bless thee. — O thou day o'the 
 
 world, 
 Chain my arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, 
 Through proof of harness to my heart, and there 
 Ride on the pants triumphing. 
 
 Cleo. Lord of lords ! 
 
 O infinite virtue ! com'st thou smiling from 
 The world's great snare uncaught ? 
 
 Ant. My nightingale, 
 
 We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, 
 
 though grey 
 Do something mingle with our brovn ; yet have we 
 A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can 
 (Jet goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; 
 Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand ; — 
 Kiss it, my warrior: — He ha',n fought to-day. 
 As if a god, in hate of mankind, had 
 Destroy'd in such a shape. 
 
 Cleo. I'll give thee, friend, 
 
 An armour all of gold ; it was a king's. 
 
 Ant. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled 
 Like holy Phoebus' car. — Give me thy hand; 
 'J'hrough Alexandria make a jolly march ; 
 Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them : 
 Had our great palace the capacity 
 To camp this host, we all would sup together; 
 And drink carouses to the next day's fate. 
 Which promises royal peril. — Trumpeters, 
 With brazen din blast you the city's ear; 
 Make mingle with our rattling tabourines; 
 That heaven and earth may strike their sounds to- 
 gether. 
 Applauding our approach. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IX.— Caesar's Camp. 
 Sentinels on their posts. Enter Enobarbus. 
 
 1 Sold. If we be not reliev'd within this hour. 
 We must return to the court of guard : The night 
 Is shiny ; and, they say, we shall embattle 
 
 By the second hour i'the rnorn. 
 
 2 Sold. This last day was 
 A shrewd one to us. 
 
 Eno. O, bear me witness, night, — 
 
 3 Sold. What man is this? 
 
 2 Sold. Stand close, and list to him. 
 
 J?no. B^ witness to me, O thou blessed moon, 
 \Vhen men revolted shall upon record 
 Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did 
 Before thy face repent ! — 
 
 1 Sold. Enobarbus ! 
 ZSold. Peace; 
 
 Hark further. 
 
 Eno. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy. 
 The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me ; 
 That life, a very rebel to my will. 
 May hang no longer on me : Throw my heart 
 Against the flint and hardness of my fault ; 
 Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder. 
 And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, 
 Nobler than my revolt is infamous, 
 Forgive me in thine own particular; 
 But let the world rank, me in register 
 A master-leaver, and a fugitive : „• \ 
 
 O Antony ! O Antony ! {Dies.) 
 
 2 Sold. Let's speak 
 To him. 
 
 1 Sold. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks 
 May concern Caesar. 
 1 Sold. Let's do so. But he sleeps. 
 
 1 Sold. Swoons rather ; for so bad a prayer as his 
 Was never yet for sleeping. 
 
 2 S(,icL Go we to him. 
 
 3 Sold. Awake, awake, sir ; speak to us. 
 2 Sold. Hear you, sir! 
 
 1 Sold. The hand of death hatii raught him. 
 
 Hark, the drums {Drums ajar off}^ 
 
 Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear iiim 
 To the court of guard : he is of note : our hour 
 Is fully out. 
 
 2 Sold. Come on then : 
 
 He may recover yet. [Exeunt with the body. 
 
 Scene X. — Between ike two Camps. 
 
 Enter Antony and Scarus, tvith Forces 
 marching. 
 
 Ant. Their preparation is to-day by sea ; 
 We please them not by laud. 
 
 Scar. For both, my lord. 
 
 Ant. I would, they'd fight i'the fire, or in the air; 
 We'd fight there too. But this it is ; Our foot 
 Upon the hills adjoining to the city, 
 Shall stay witli us : order for sea is given ; 
 'I'hey have put forth tiie haven : Furtlieron. 
 Where their appointment we may best discover. 
 And look on their endeavour. [Exeunt 
 
 Enter Caesar, and his Forces, ynarchittg. 
 
 Cces. But being charg'd, we w ill be still by land 
 Which, as I take't, we shall ; for his best force 
 Is forth to man his gallies. To the vales, 
 And hold our best advantage. [Exeunt. 
 
 Reenter Antony and Scarus. 
 
 Ant. Yet they're notjoin'd: Where yonder pine 
 doth stand, 
 I shall discover all : I'll bring thee word 
 Straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit. 
 
 Scar. Swallows have built 
 
 In Cleopatra's sails their nest: the augurers 
 Say, they know not, — they cannot tell ; — look grimly 
 And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony 
 Is valiant, and dejected ; and, by starts. 
 His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear, 
 Of what he has, and has not. 
 
 Alarum afar off, as at a sea fight. 
 Re-enter Antony. 
 
 Ant. All is lost; 
 
 This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me ; 
 My fleet hath yielded to the i'oe ; and yonder 
 They cast their caps up, and carouse together 
 Like friends long lost. — Triple-turn'd whore I 'Ui 
 
 thou 
 Hast sold me to this novice ; and my heart 
 Makes only wars on thee. — Bid them all fly ; 
 For when I am reveng'd upon my charm, 
 I have done all : — Bid them all lly, be gone. 
 
 [Exit Scanu. 
 O sun, thy nprise shall I see no more : 
 Fortune and Antony part here; even here 
 Do we shake hands. — All come to this ? — The hearts. 
 That spanield me at heels, to whom I gave 
 Tlieir wisiies, do discandy, melt their sweets 
 i Oil blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd, 
 ! That overlopp'd them all. Betray'd I am: 
 O tliis false soul of Egypt! this grave charm, — 
 Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd then 
 
 home ; 
 Wliosi' Ijosoni was my crownet, my chief end, 
 L ki' a riulit gipsy, hatii, at fast and loose, 
 H(.;i]iril me to tlie very heart of lo.ss. — 
 \\ iiut, Eros, Eros! 
 
 Enter Cleop.4.tba. 
 
 Ah, thou spell ! Avaunt 
 Cleo. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love? 
 Ant. V;iiiish ; or I shall give thee thy deserving, 
 And blt-nii.sli Cesar's triumph. Let him takelliee) 
 And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians: 
 Follow his chariot, like the j;reatest spot 
 ! Of all thy sex ; most nionster-iike, he shovni 
 j For poor'st dimiuutives, to dolts ; aud lel 
 
C2i 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Patient Octavia plough thy visage up 
 
 With her prepared nails. [Exit C/eo.] 'Tis well 
 
 thon'rt a;one. 
 If it be well to live : But better 'twere 
 Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death 
 Might have prevented many. — Eros, ho! 
 The shirt of Nessus is upon me : Teach me, 
 Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage : 
 Let me lodge Liclias on the horns o'the moon; 
 And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club, 
 iSubdue my worthiest self The witch shall die ; 
 To the Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall 
 Under this plot : she dies for't. — Eros, ho ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene XI. — Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and 
 Mardian. 
 
 Cleo. Help me, iny women ! O, he is more mad 
 Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly 
 Was never so emboss'd. 
 
 Char. To tlie monument : 
 
 There lock yonrself,and send him word you are dead. 
 The soul and body rive not more in parting, 
 Than greatness going off". 
 
 Cleo. To (he monument: — 
 
 Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; 
 Say, that the last I spoke was, Antony, 
 And word it, pr'ythee, piteously : Hence, 
 Mardian ; and bring me how he takes my death. — 
 To the monument. [Exeutit. 
 
 Scene XII. — The same. Another Room. 
 Enter Antony and Eros. 
 
 Ant, Eros, thou yet behold'st me ? 
 
 Eros. Ay, Boble lord. 
 
 Ant. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish ; 
 A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or liou, 
 A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
 A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
 With trees upon't, that nod unto the world. 
 And mock our eyes with air : Thou hast seen these 
 
 signs ; 
 They are black vesper's pageants. 
 
 Eros. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ant. That which is now a horse, even with a 
 thought. 
 The rack dislimns ; and makes it indistinct. 
 As water is in water. 
 
 Eros. It does, my lord. 
 
 Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is 
 Even such a body : here 1 am Antony; 
 Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
 I made tliese wars for Egypt; and the queen, — 
 Whose heart, I tliought, I had, for she had mine; 
 Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't 
 A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has 
 Pack'd cards with Ciesar, and fal.se play'd my glory 
 Unto an enemy's triumph, — 
 Nay, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left ns 
 Ourselves to end ourselves. — O, thy vile lady! 
 
 Enter Mardian. 
 
 She hath robb'd me of my sword. 
 
 Mar. No, Antony ; 
 
 My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled 
 With thine entirely. 
 
 Ant. Hence, saucy eunnch ; peace ; 
 
 She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death. 
 
 Mar. Death of one person can be paid but once ; 
 And that she has discharg'd : What thou would'st do, 
 Is done unto thy hand ; the last she spake 
 Was, Antony ! most noble Antony ! 
 Then in tlie midst a tearing groan did break 
 Tlie name of Antony ; it was divided 
 Between her heart and lips: She render"d"life. 
 Thy name so buried in her. 
 
 ■^«^ Dead then? 
 
 Mar. Dead. 
 
 Ant Eros, unarm ; the long day's task is done. 
 And we must sleep.— That thou deparfst hence safe. 
 
 Does pay thy labour richly; Go. — Oil'. ])lii(k off. — 
 
 [Exit Mardian. 
 The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep 
 The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides 
 Heart, once be stronger than thy continent; 
 Crack thy frail case ! — Apace, Eros, apace. — 
 No more a soldier: — Bruised pieces, go ; 
 You have been nobly borne. — From me a while.— 
 
 [Exit Eros. 
 I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and 
 Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now 
 All length is torture : — Since tlie torch is out. 
 Lie down, and stray no further: Now all labour 
 INIars what it does; yea, very force entangles 
 Itself with strength: Seal then, and all is (lone. — 
 Eros ! — I come, my queen : — Eros I — Stay lor inc : 
 Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand 
 And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze : 
 Dido and her i^Jiiieas shall want troops, 
 And all the haunt be ours. — Come, Eros, Eros! 
 
 Re-enter Eros, 
 
 Eros. What would my lord ? 
 
 Ant. Since Cieopatra died 
 
 I have liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods 
 Detest mv baseness. I, that with my sword 
 Quarter'^ the world, and o'er green I^eptune's back 
 With ships made cities, condemn mysell", to lack 
 The courage of a woman; less noble mind 
 Than she, which, by her death, our Caesar tells, 
 / am conqueror of myself . Thou art sworn, Eros, 
 That, when the exigent should come, (which now 
 Is come, indeed) when I should see behind me 
 The inevitable prosecution of 
 Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, 
 'i'hou then would'st kill me : do't ; the time is come ; 
 Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. 
 Put colour in thy cheek. 
 
 Eros. The gods withhold me ! 
 
 Shall I do that, which all the Parthian darts, 
 Though enemy, lost aim, and could not ? 
 
 Ant. Eros, 
 
 Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see 
 Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down 
 His corrigible neck, his face subdued 
 To penetrative shame ; whilst the wheel'd seat 
 Of fortunate Cassar, drawn before him, branded 
 His baseness that ensued ? 
 
 Eros. I would not see't. 
 
 Ant. Come then ; for with a wound I must be cnr'd. 
 Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn 
 Most useful for thy country. 
 
 Eros, O, sir, pardon me. 
 
 Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou 
 not then 
 To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once ; 
 Or thy precedent services are all 
 But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come. 
 
 Eros. Turn from me t!ien that noble countenance 
 Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. 
 
 Ant. Lo thee. {fVumimj from him. 
 
 Eros. My sword is drawn. 
 
 Ant. Then let it do at once 
 
 The thing why thou hast drawn it. 
 
 Eros. My dear master 
 
 My captain, and my emperor! let nie say. 
 Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell 
 
 Ant. 'Tis said, man; — and farewell. 
 
 Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? 
 
 Ant. Now, Ems 
 
 Eros. Why, there then:— [Falls on his sword.] 
 
 Thus do I escape the sorrtiW 
 
 Of Antony's death. (Dies./ 
 
 Ant. Thrice nobler than myself! 
 
 Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what 
 I should, and thou could'st not. My (pieen and Eros 
 Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me 
 A nobleness in record : But I will be 
 A bridegroom in my death, and run into't 
 As to a lover's bed. Come then ; and. Err>%, 
 
Scene 13. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 025 
 
 Thy master dies thy scholar ; (o do tlins 
 
 {Fallinn on his sword.) 
 I learn'd of thee. How ! not yet ueiid ? not dead '! — 
 The guard ! — Jio ! — O, despatcli me. 
 
 Enter Dercetas and Guard. 
 
 1 Guard. Wliat's the noise ? 
 Ant. I liave doue ray work ill, friends; O, make 
 
 an end 
 Of what I lia\e begun. 
 
 2 Guard. The star is fallen. 
 J Guard. And time is at his periorl. 
 
 All. Alas, and v.oe ! 
 
 Ant. Let him, that loves me, strike nie dead. 
 1 Guard. Not L 
 
 -2Gvard. NorL 
 
 3 Guard. Ncr any one.' [Exeunt Guard. 
 Der. 'J'ay death and fortunes bid tliy toilowers tly. 
 
 This sword but shewn to Caisa.-, witli this tidings, 
 Shall enter me witli hiiu. 
 
 Enter Diojiedes. 
 
 Dio. Where's Antony ? 
 
 Der. There, Diomed, tliere. 
 
 Dio. Lives he ? 
 
 Wilt ihou not answer, man ? [Exit Dercetas. 
 
 Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, 
 and give rns 
 Sufficing strokes for death. 
 
 Dio. Most absolute lord. 
 
 My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. 
 
 Ant. Wlieu did she send tliee '! 
 
 Dio. Now, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Where is she? 
 
 Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a pro- 
 j/hesying I'ear 
 Of wliat hath come to pass : for when she saw 
 (Whicli never shall be found,) you did suspect 
 Slie had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage 
 Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was 
 
 dead ; 
 IJut, fearinjr since how it might work, hath sent 
 ?ile to proclaim the truth ; and 1 am come, 
 I dread, too late. 
 
 Ant. 'i'oo late, good Diomed : — Call my guard, 
 I jir'ythee. 
 
 Dio. What, ho! the emperor's guard! The 
 guard, what, ho ! 
 Come, your lord calls. 
 
 Enter some of the Guard. 
 Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra 
 bides; 
 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. 
 
 1 Guard. Woe are we, sir, you n>ay not live to 
 k\\ your true followers out. [wear 
 
 All. Most heavy day. 
 
 A7tt. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp 
 fate 
 To grace it with your sorrows : bid that welcome 
 Which comes to pimish us, and we punish it 
 Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: 
 I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends, 
 And have my thanks for all. 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing Antony. 
 
 Scene XIII.— T//e sajne. A Monument. 
 Enter above] Cleopatra, Chaumian, «??f/lRAS. 
 Cleo. O Charmian, I will never go from hence. 
 Char. Be comforted, dear madam. 
 Cleo. No, I will not : 
 
 All strange and terrible events are welcome. 
 But comforts we despise ; our size of sorrow, 
 Pixjportion'd to our cause, roust be as great 
 
 Enter Diomedes. 
 
 As that which makes it. — How now ? is he dead ? 
 
 Dio. His death's upon liini. but not dead. 
 Liwk out o'tiie other side your monument. 
 His guard have brought him (hithet f 
 
 Enter Antony, bor7ie by the Guard. 
 
 Cleo. O thou sun, 
 
 j Bum me great sphere thou mov'st inl— darkhog! 
 i stand 
 
 I The varj'ing shore o'tlie world ! — O Antony ! 
 i Antony, .\iitoiiy ! — Charmian, help ; help, Iras; 
 ! Help, liiends below : let's draw tiiin hither- 
 
 I ,,-^"^* Peace; 
 
 I Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, 
 I But Antony's hath triumphed on itself. 
 I Cleo.- Ho it should be, that none but Antony 
 Should conquer Antony ; but woe 'tis so ! 
 
 Ant. I am dyiiif:, Egypt, dying; only 
 I here imjiortune deatli a while, until 
 01 many thousand kisses the poor last 
 1 lay Uj on Uiy lijis. — 
 
 Cleo. I dare not, dear, 
 
 (Dear my lord, pardon) I dare not. 
 Lest I be taken : not the imperious shew 
 Of the fuU-foitun'd Casar ever shall 
 Be brooct; d with me ; if knife, drugs, serpents, have 
 Edge, sting, or operation, I am safa : 
 Your vyiie Octavia, with her modest eyes. 
 And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour 
 Demunng upon me. — But come, come, Antony, — 
 Help me, iny women, — we must draw thee up;— 
 Assist, good friends. 
 
 Ant. O, quick, or I am gone. 
 
 Cleo. Here's snort, inaeed!— How heavy weigii, 
 my lord! 
 Our strength is all gone into heaviness, 
 ^I'hat makes the weight I Had I great Juno's power 
 'i'he stronp-vving'd Alercury sliould ietch thee up. 
 And set thee by Jove's side. Vet come a little,- 
 Wishers were ever fools ; — O, come, come, come ; 
 ( They draw Antony up. 
 And welcome, welcome ! die, where thou hast liv'd 
 Quicken with kissing ; had my lips that power, 
 'I'hus would I wear them out. 
 All. A heavy sight ! 
 
 Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying : 
 Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. 
 
 Cleo. No, let me speak ; and let me rail so high, 
 That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel 
 Provok'd by my otience. 
 
 Ant. One word, sweet queen 
 
 Of Caesar seek your honour with your safety. — O 
 Cleo. They do not go together. 
 Ant. t Gentle, hear me 
 
 None about Cajsar trust, but Proculeius. 
 
 Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust; 
 None about Csesar. 
 
 Ant. The miserable change now at my end. 
 Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughti, 
 In feeding them with tliese my former fortimts 
 Wherein I iiv'd, the greatest prince o'the world. 
 The noblest: and do now not uasely die. 
 Nor cowardly ; put oft' my helmet to 
 My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman 
 Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going ; 
 I can no more, ( Dies. 
 
 Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die ? 
 
 Hast thou no care of me ? shall I abide 
 In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
 No better than a stye ? — O, see, my w omen. 
 The crown o'the earth doth melt; — My lord ! — 
 O, wilher'd is the garland of the war, 
 The soldier's pole is fallen ; young boys, and giris. 
 Are level now with men; the odds is gotie. 
 And there is nothing left remarkable 
 Beneath the visiting moon. [Sh^ faints.) 
 
 Char. O, quietness, lady ! 
 
 Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. 
 Char. Lady, — 
 
 Iras. Madam,- 
 
 Cluir. O madam, madam, madam ! 
 Iras. Royal Eg ypt J 
 
 Empress ! 
 Char. Peace, peace, Iras. 
 
626 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Cleo, Ni> more, but e'en a woman ; and com- 
 manded 
 By such poor passion as the maid that milks, 
 And does the meanest chares. — It were for me 
 To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; 
 To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, 
 Till ihey had stolen our.jewel. All's but naught; 
 Patience is sottish; and impatience does 
 Become a dog that's mad : Then is it sin, 
 To rush into the secret house of death. 
 Ere death dare come to -.js ? — How do you, women ? 
 What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, Cliar- 
 
 mian ? 
 My noble girls ! — Ah, women, women ! look, 
 Our lamp is spent, it's out : — Good sirs, take 
 heart;— {To the Guard below.) 
 
 We'll bury him : and then, what's brave, what's 
 
 noble. 
 Feet's do it alter the liit;h Roman fashion, 
 And make death proud to take us. Come, away : 
 This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
 Ah, women, women 1 come ; we have no friend 
 But resolution, and the briefest end. 
 [ Exeunt ; those above bearing off Antony' s body. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene l.—C<Bsar's Camp before Alexandria. 
 Enter C^sar, Agrippa, Dolabella, MeCjENAS, 
 Gallus, Puoculeius, and others. 
 C<es. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield ; 
 Being so frustrate, t«ll him, he mocks us by 
 The pauses that he makes. 
 Dol. Caesar, I shall. [Exit Dolabella. 
 
 Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Antony. 
 C(BS. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that 
 A ppear thus to us ? [dar'st 
 
 I)er. I am call'd Dercetas ; 
 
 Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy 
 Best >o be serv'd : whilst he stood up, and spoke. 
 He was my master ; and I wore my life, 
 'Jo spend upon his haters : If thou please 
 To take me to thee, as I was to him 
 I'll be to Caesar ; if thou pleasest not, 
 I yield thee up my life. 
 (Ja^s. What is't thou say'st ? 
 
 Der. I say, O Coesar, Antony is dead. 
 Cas. The breakingof so great a thing should make 
 A greater crack : The round world should have shook 
 Lions into civil streets, 
 
 And citizens to their dens: The death of Antony 
 is not a single doom ; in the name lay 
 A moiety of the world. 
 
 Der. He is dead, Caesar; 
 
 Not by a public minister of justice, 
 Nor by a hired knife ; but that self hand 
 Which writ his honour in the acts it did, 
 Hath,, with the courage which the heart did lend it, 
 Splitted the heart. — This is his sword, 
 I robb'd his wound of it ; behold it stain'd 
 VVith his most noble blood. 
 
 Cces. Look you sad, friends? 
 
 The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings 
 To wash the eyes of kings. 
 
 Agr. And strange it is, 
 
 Tliat nature must compel us to lament 
 Our most persisted deeds. . 
 
 Mec, His taints and honours 
 
 Waged equal with him. 
 
 Ayr. A rarer spirit never 
 
 Did steer humanity : but you. gods, will give us 
 Some faults to make us men. Capsar is touch'd. 
 
 Mec. When such a spacious mirror's set before 
 He needs must see himself. (him, 
 
 C<es. O Antony I 
 
 I have foUow'd thee to this; — But we do lance 
 Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce 
 Have shewn to thee such a declining day, 
 Or look on thine ; we c-ould not stall together 
 In the whole world : But yet let uie lament. 
 
 With tears as sovereign as the blon<! of hearts. 
 
 That thou, my brother, my co.iipetitor 
 
 In top of all design, my mate in empire. 
 
 Friend and companion in the front of war, 
 
 The arm of mine own body, and the heart 
 
 Where mine his thoughts did kindle, — that oar stars, 
 
 IJnreconcileable, should divide 
 
 Our equalness to this. — Hear me, good friends,— 
 
 But I will tell you at some meeter season ; 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 The business of this man looks out of him,' 
 Well hear him what he says. — \Vlience are you ? 
 
 Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mis- 
 Contin'd in all she has, her monument, [tress 
 
 Of thy intents desires instruction ; 
 That she preparedly may frame herself 
 To the way she's forced to, 
 
 Cas. Bid her have good heart ; 
 
 She soon shall know of us, by some of ours. 
 How honourable and how kindly we 
 Determine for her: ibr Caesar cannot live 
 To be ungentle. 
 
 Mess. So the gods preserve thee. [Exit 
 
 Cas. Come hither, Proculeius ; Go, and say. 
 We purpose her no shame : give her what comforts 
 The quality of her passion shall require ; 
 Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke 
 She do defeat us : for her life in Rome 
 Would be eternal in our triumph : Go, 
 And. with your speediest, bring us what she says. 
 And how you find of her. 
 
 Pro. Caesar, I shall. [E.xit Proculeius. 
 
 Cces. Gallus, go you along. — Where's Dolabella, 
 To second Proculeius ? [Exit Callus, 
 
 Agr. §f Mec. Dolabella! 
 
 Cas. Let him alone, for I remember now 
 How he's employed ; he shall in time be ready. 
 Go with me to my tent ; where you shall see 
 How hardly I was drawn into tiiis war; 
 How calm and gentle I proceeded still 
 In all my writings : Go with me, and see 
 What i can shew in this. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene II. — Alexandria. A Room in the 
 
 Monument. 
 
 Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras. 
 Cleo. My desolation does begin to make 
 A better life : 'Tis paltry to be Caesar ; 
 Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave, 
 A minister of her will ; And it is great 
 To do that thing that eiids all other deeds; 
 Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change ; 
 Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung. 
 The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. 
 
 Enter, to the gates of the Monument, Vrocvleivs, 
 Gallus, and Soldiers. 
 
 Pro. Caesar sends greeting to the queen of Egypt; 
 And bids thee study on what iair demands 
 Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. 
 
 Cleo. (Within.) What's thy name ' 
 
 Pro, My name is Proculeius. 
 
 Cleo. {Within.) Antony 
 
 Did tell me of you, bade me trust you ; 
 I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd. 
 That have no use for trusting. If your master 
 Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him 
 That majesty, to keep decorum, must 
 No less beg than a kingdom : if he please 
 To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son, 
 He gives me so much of mine own, as I 
 Will kneel to him with thanks. 
 
 Pro. Be of good cheer. 
 
 You are fallen into a princely hand, fear nothing • 
 Make your full reverence freely to my lord. 
 Who is so full of grace, that it flows over 
 On all that need : Let me report to him 
 Your sweet dependency ; and you sKpU find 
 A conqueror, that will pray in aid for kindness, 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 62T 
 
 VVlipre he for gnce is kneel'd to. 
 
 Cleo. ( Wiikm.) Pray you, tell him 
 
 I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him 
 The greatness he has got. I hourly learn 
 A doctrine of obedience ; and would gladly 
 Look liiin i' the face. 
 
 Pro. This I'll report, dear lady. 
 
 Have comfort; for I know your plight is pitied 
 Of him that caus'd it. 
 
 Gal. You see iiow easily she may he sinpris'd; 
 [Here Proctilems. and two of the Guard, 
 ascend the Monument by a ladder 
 placed against a iviudoiu, and having 
 descended, come behind Cleopatra. Some 
 of the Guard unbar and open the gates.) 
 Guard her till CjBsar come. 
 
 [To Proculeius and the Guard.) [Exit Gallus. 
 
 Iras. Royal queen ! 
 
 Char. O "Cleopatra ! thou art taken, queen ! 
 
 Cho. Quick, quick, good hands. 
 
 [Drawing a dagger.) 
 
 Pro, Hold, worthy lady, hold : 
 
 [Seizes and disarms her.) 
 [)o not yourself such wrong, who are in this 
 Keliev'd, but not hetray'd. 
 
 Cleo. What, of death too, 
 
 Tliat rids our dogs of languish ? 
 
 Pro. Cleopatra, 
 
 Do not abuse my master's bounty by 
 Tlie undoing of yourself : let the world se«i 
 His nobleness well acted, which your death 
 Will never let come forth. 
 
 Cleo. Where art thou, death ? 
 
 Come hither, come ! come, come, and take a queen 
 Worth many babes and beggars ! 
 
 Pro. O, temperance, lady ! 
 
 Cleo. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir ; 
 If idle talk will once be necessarv, 
 I'll not sleep neither: This mortal house I'll ruin. 
 Do Caesar wliat he can. Know, sir, that I 
 Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court ; 
 Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye 
 Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up. 
 And shew me to the shouting varletry 
 Of censuring Rome ? Rather a ditch in E^ypt 
 Be gentle grave to me ! rather on Nihis' mud 
 Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies 
 Blow me into abhorring ! rather make 
 My country's high pyraraides my gibbet, 
 And hang me up in chains ! 
 
 Pro. You do extend 
 
 These thoughts of horror further than you shall 
 Find cause in Caesar. 
 
 Enter Dohbella. 
 
 Dol. Proculeius, 
 
 What thou hast done, thy master Caesar knows, 
 And he hath sent for thee : as for the queen, 
 I'll take her to my guard. 
 
 Pro. So, Dolabella. 
 
 It shall content me best : be gentle to her. 
 To Cajsar I will .speak what you shall please, 
 
 [To Cleopatra.) 
 If you'll employ me to him. 
 
 Cleo. Say, I would die. 
 
 [Exeunt Proculeius and Soldiers. 
 
 Dol, Most noble empress, you have heard of me ? 
 
 Cleo, I cannot tell. 
 
 Dol. Assuredly, you know me. 
 
 Cleo. No matter, sir, what 1 have heard or known. 
 You laugh, when boys, or women, tell their dreams ; 
 b't not your trick "i" 
 
 Dul I imderstand not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony ; — 
 O, such unother sleep, that I might see 
 But h-\ch another man ! 
 
 Dol. If it might please yon, — 
 
 Cleo. His face was as the heavens ; and therein 
 
 atuck [lighted 
 
 A aan and luuon: which kept their course, and 
 
 The little O, the earth. 
 
 Dol. Most sovereign creature,— 
 
 Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd aim 
 Crested the world : his voice was propertied 
 As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; 
 But when he meant to quail anc. shake the orb. 
 He was a rattling thunder. For his bounty. 
 There was no winter in't; an autunm 'twas, 
 'J'hat grew the more by reaping; His delights 
 Were dolphin-like : they siiew'd his back above 
 The elenient they liv'd in ; In his livery 
 Walk'd crowns, and crownets ; realms and islands 
 As plates dropp'd from his pocket. [were 
 
 Dol. Cleopatra, — 
 
 Cleo. Tliink you, there was, or might be, such a 
 As this I dream'd of? [mao 
 
 Dol. Gentle madam, no. 
 
 Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. 
 But, if there be, or ever were one such, 
 It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff 
 To vie strange forms with fancy ; yet, to imagine 
 An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy. 
 Condemning shadows quite. 
 
 Dol. Hear me, good madam; 
 
 Your loss is as yourself, great ; and you bear it 
 As answering to the weight: 'W^ould I might never 
 O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel. 
 By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots 
 My very heart at root. 
 
 Cleo. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Know you, what Caesar means to do with me ? 
 
 Dol. I am loath to tell you what 1 would you knew. 
 
 Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir, — 
 
 Dol. Though he be honourable,-^ 
 
 Cleo. He'll lead me then in triumph '? 
 
 Dol. Madam, he will ; 
 
 I know*it. 
 
 Within. Make way there, — Caesar. 
 
 Enter CiESAR, Gallus, Proculeius, MecjENA9, 
 Seleucus, and Attendants, 
 
 CeBs, Which is the queen 
 
 Of Egypt ? 
 
 Dol. 'Tis the emperor, madam. 
 
 [Cleopatra kneelt-) 
 
 Cas. Arise, 
 
 You shall not kneel : — 
 I pray you rise ; rise, Egypt. 
 
 Cleo. Sir, the gods 
 
 Will have it thus; my master and my lord 
 I must obey. 
 
 Cas. Take to yqu no hard thoughts : 
 
 The record of what jnjgries you did us. 
 Though written in our flesh, we shall remember 
 As things but done by chance. 
 
 Clej}. Sole sir o'the world, 
 
 I cannot project mine own cause so well 
 To make it clear: but do confess, I have 
 Been Liden with like frailties, which before 
 Have often sham'd our sex. 
 
 Cees. Cleopatra, Lnow« 
 
 We will extenuate rather than enfcirce: , 
 
 If you apply yourself to our intents, 
 (Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall find 
 A benefit in this change ; but if you seek 
 To lay on me a cruelty, by taking 
 Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself 
 Of my good purposes, and put your children 
 To that destruction which I'll guard them from. 
 If thereon you rely. I'll take, my leave. 
 
 Cleo. And may, through all the world : 'tis yours ; 
 and we. 
 Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall 
 Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. 
 
 C<ES. You shall advise me in all fur Cleopatra. 
 
 Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, ancfjeweli^ 
 I am possess'd of: tis exactly valued ; 
 Not petty tilings admitted. — ^Where's Seleucus? 
 
 Sel. Here, madam. 
 
 Cleo. This is my treasurer j let him speak, my lordi 
 
628 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 (J|)ini his peril, that I Iwvt resfrv'J 
 
 'i'li my-;e!t' noti.iiii;'. Siienk the truth, St'leuciis. 
 
 Set. .Madam, 
 I hiul iMtlier seel my lips, tliuii. to my peril, 
 yi'e;ik. that which is not. 
 
 C('fo. What have I kept back ? 
 
 Sel. Enough to piiicliase what you have made 
 
 known. 
 Ci:ss. Nay, hhish not, Cleopatia ; I approve 
 Yonr wisdom in the deed. 
 
 Ci'eo. See, Ccesar! O, behold, 
 
 How pomp is foUow'd ! rnin:- will now be yonr's; • 
 And, siionld we sliil't estates, yoiir's wonld he mine. 
 Tlie ingratitude ol this Seleucus does 
 Even make me wild : — O slave, of no more trust 
 Th;in lo\e that's hir'd 1 — What, goest thou back? 
 
 thoushalt 
 Go back, I warrant thee ; but I'll catch thine eyes, 
 'I'hoiigh they had wings : .Sia\e, soul-less \illain, dog 1 
 O rarely base ! 
 
 Cas. Good queen, let us entreat you. 
 
 t'/eo. O Caesar, uhat a wounding shame is this ; 
 That thou, vouchsaiiiig here to visit me. 
 Doing the honour of thy lordliness 
 To one so meek, that mine own servant should 
 Parcel the sura of my disgraces by 
 Addition of his envy I Say, good Caesar, 
 That I some lady's trifles ha\e reserv'd, 
 Immoment toys, thiiigs of such dignity 
 As we greet modern triends withal ; and say, 
 Some nobler token I have kept apart 
 For Livia and Octaxia, to induce 
 Their mediation; must I be unfolded 
 With one that I have bred '! 'I'he gods I it smiles me 
 Beneath the fall 1 have. Pr'ythee, go hence ; 
 
 {To Sehucvs.) 
 Or I shall shew the cinders of my spirits 
 Through the ashes of my chance : — VV'ert thou a man, 
 Thou would'st ha\e mercy on me. 
 
 Cces. Forbear, Seleucus. 
 
 [ Tixit Seleucus. 
 Cleo. Be it known, that we, the greatest, are mis- 
 thought 
 For things that others do; and when we fall, 
 We answer others' merits in our name. 
 Are therelbre to be pitied. 
 
 C<es. Cleopatra, 
 
 Not what you have reserv'd, nor whatacknowledg'd. 
 Put we i'the roll of conquest: still be it yours. 
 Bestow it at your pleasure ; and beliex e, 
 Csesar's no merchant, to make prize with you 
 Of things that merchants sold. Thenefore be cheer'd ; 
 Make not your thoughts your prisons : no, dear 
 
 queen; 
 For we intend so to dispose you, as 
 Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep : 
 Our care and pity is so much upon you, 
 'I'hat we remain your triend: And so adieu. 
 C/eo. My master, and my lord ! 
 C<es, Not so : .^dieu. 
 
 ' [Exeimt CiEsar and his train. 
 
 • Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I 
 should not 
 Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charniian. 
 
 {Whispers Char)7tian.) 
 Iras. Finish, good lady ; the bright day is done, 
 And we are for ihe dark. 
 
 Cleo. Hie thee again : 
 
 I have spoke already, and it is provided ; 
 Go, put it to the haste. 
 
 Char. , Madam, I will. 
 
 Re-enter Dolabella. ' 
 
 Dol. Where is the queen ? 
 
 Char. Behold, sir. \Exlt Char. 
 
 Cleo. Dolabella'!' 
 
 iW. Madam, as thereto sworn by your comuiand. 
 Which my love makes religion to obey, 
 I tell yi.u tliis: Caesar through Syria 
 Intends his journey ; and, within three days. 
 
 You with your children will he send before : 
 Mtike your best use of this : I haxe perforni'd 
 Your pleasure, and my promise. 
 
 Cleo. Dolabella, 
 
 I shall remain your debtor. 
 
 Dol. I your servant. 
 
 Adieu, good queen ; T must attend on Caesar. 
 
 Cleo. Farewell, and thanks, \luxit Dol.\ Now, 
 Iras, what thiiik'st thou ? 
 Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shewn 
 In Rome, as well as 1 : mechanic slaves. 
 With greasy aprons, rules, and haiiimers, shall 
 Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breaths, 
 R;ink of gross diet, shall we be enclouded. 
 And ibrc'd to drink their vapour. 
 
 Iras. The gods forbid ! 
 
 Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors 
 Wilt catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers 
 Ballad us out o'tune : the quick comedians 
 Extemporally will stage us, and present 
 Our Alexandrian revels; Antony 
 Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see 
 Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness 
 I'the posture of a whore. 
 
 Iras. O the good gods ! 
 
 Cleo. Nay, that is certain. 
 
 Iras. I'll never see it ; for, I am sure, my nails 
 Are stronger than mine eyes. 
 
 Cleo. 
 
 Why, that's the way 
 
 To fool their preparation, and to conquer 
 Their most absurd intents. — Now, Charmian ? — 
 
 Enter Ch^vrmian. 
 
 Shew me, my women, like a queen : — Go fetch 
 My best attires ; — I am again for Cydnus, 
 To meet Mark Antony : — Sirrah, Iras, go. — 
 Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch indeed: 
 And, when thou hast done this chare. III give thee 
 
 leave 
 To play till dooms-day. — Bring our crown and all. 
 Wherefore's tliis noise ? {Exit Iras. A noise within. 
 
 Enter one of the Guard. 
 
 Guard. Here is a rural fellow, 
 
 That will not be denied your highness' presence; 
 He brings you figs. 
 
 Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instrument 
 
 [Exit Guard. 
 May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
 My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing 
 Of woman in me : Now from head to foot 
 I am marble-constant: now the fleeting moon 
 No planet is of mine. 
 
 Re-enter Guard, ivith a Cloicn bringing a baslcel. 
 
 Guard. This is the man. 
 
 Cleo. Avoid, and lea\e him. — .{Exit Guard. 
 Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there. 
 That kills and pains not :" 
 
 Clown. 'J'ruly I have him : but I would not be the 
 party that should desire you to touch him, for his 
 biting is immortal ; those, that do die of it, do seldom 
 or never recover. 
 
 Cleo. Keiiiember'st thou any that have died ont? 
 
 Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard 
 of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very 
 honest woman, but scnnelhing given to lie ; as a wo- 
 man should not do, but in the way of honesty: liow 
 she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt.— 
 Trulv, she makes a very good report a the worm: 
 But he that will believe all that they say, shall never 
 be saved by half that they do : But this is most fal- 
 lible, the Worm's an odd worm. 
 
 Cleo. Get liiee hence; farewell. 
 
 Clown. I wish you all joy o' the worm. 
 
 Cleo. Farewell. {Clown sets down the basket.) 
 
 Clown. Y'ou must tliink this, look you, that the 
 worm will do his kind. 
 
 Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell. 
 
 Clown. Look you, the worm is not to he trusted, 
 
SCKNE 3. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 C20 
 
 fint in the keeping of wise people ; for, indeed, there 
 is no g'oodness iu the worm. 
 
 Cleo. Take tlioii no care ; it sh;.ll be heeded. 
 
 Clown. Very good : give it notiiing, I pray you, for 
 It is niit worth the feeding. 
 
 Cleo. Will it eat me? 
 
 C/utvn. You must not think I am so simple, but I 
 kniw the devil himself will not eat a wciian : — I 
 know, that a woman is a dish for the ^^nds, if the devil 
 dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils 
 do the s;nds greiit harm in their women ; lor in every 
 ten that they make, the devils mar fn e. 
 
 Cleo. Well, get thee gone ; f,«rewell. 
 
 Clown. Yes, forsooth ; I wish you joy of the worm. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Iras, with a robe, crown, §fc. 
 
 Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
 Jnimortal ionginj;s in me : Now no more 
 The juice of Egypt's grape siiall moist this lip: — 
 Varej yare, good Iras ; quick. — iMeliiinks, I hear 
 Aiilmiy call ; I see Imn rouse hiuivelf 
 To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
 llie luck ofCsesar, which the gods give men 
 To excuse their after wrath : Husband, I come: 
 Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
 1 am fire, and air; my other elements 
 1 give to baser life. — So, — have you done? 
 t'ome then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
 Farewell, kind Charmian; — Iras, long farewell. 
 
 [Kisses them. Iras foils and dies.) 
 Ha\e I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall? 
 \\ tiiou and nature can so gently part, 
 Tiie stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
 Which hurts, and is desir'd- Dost thou iie still ? 
 If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
 It is not worth leave-taking. [say. 
 
 Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may 
 'I'he i^ods themselves do weep! 
 
 Cleo. This proves me base : 
 
 ft she first meet the curled Antony, 
 1 li''ll make demand of her: and spend that kiss, 
 Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, 
 {To the asp, ivhich she applies to her breast.) 
 With thy sharp teeth this knot lutriusicate 
 i.)\i life at once untie : poor venomous Ibol, 
 He angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak ! 
 That I might hear thee call great Csesar, as3 
 Unpolicied ! 
 
 Char. O eastern star I 
 
 Cleo. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Dost thou'tiot see my baby at my breast, 
 riwtt sucks the nurse asleep ? 
 
 Char. O, break ! O, break ! 
 
 Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
 O Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too: — 
 
 [Applying another asp to her arm.) 
 What should I stay — [Falls on a bed and dies.) 
 
 Char. In this wild world? — So, fare thee well — 
 Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession lies 
 A lass unparallel'd. — Downy windows, close ; 
 .\nd golden Phoebus never be beheld 
 Of eyes again so royal ! Your crown's awry; 
 {'11 mend it, and then play. 
 
 Enter the Gua^d, rushing in. 
 I Guard. Where Is the qupea ? 
 
 Char. Speak softly, wake her not- 
 
 1 Guard. Caesar hath sent — 
 Char, Too slow a messencer. 
 
 [Applies the asp.) 
 O, come ; apace, despatch : I partly feel thee. 
 
 1 Guard. Approach, ho ! All's not well : Caesar's 
 
 bpguil'd. (call him. 
 
 2 Guard There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; — 
 
 1 Guard. What work is here ? — Charmian, is tiiij 
 
 well done ? 
 Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess, 
 descended of so many royal kings. 
 Ah, soldier ! [Dies.) 
 
 Enter Dolabella. 
 
 Dol. How goes it here ? 
 
 2 Guard. All dead. 
 
 Dol. _ Caesar, thy thought's 
 
 Touch their effects in this : Thyself art coming 
 To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou 
 So sought'st to hinder. 
 
 Within. A way there, way for Caesar 
 
 Enter C^SAr and Attendants. 
 
 Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; 
 That you did fear, is done. 
 
 CiES. Bravest at the last; 
 
 She leiell'd at onr purposes, and, being royal, 
 Took her own way. — 1 he manner of their deaths ? 
 I do not see them bleed. 
 
 Dol. Who was last with them ? 
 
 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her 
 This was his basket. [figs ; 
 
 Cces. Poison'd, then. 
 
 1 Guard. O Cassar, 
 
 This Charmian lived but now ; she stood, and spake 
 I found her trimming up the diadem 
 On her dead mistress ; tremblingly she stood. 
 And on the sudden dropp'd. 
 
 Cces. O noble weakness ! — 
 
 If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear 
 By externa) swelling: but she looks like sleep. 
 As she would catch another Antony 
 In her strong toil of grace. 
 
 Dol. Here, on her breast. 
 
 There is a vent of blood, and something blown; 
 The like is on her arm. [leaves 
 
 I Guard. This is an aspick's trail : and these fig 
 Have slime upon them, such as the aspick leaves 
 Upon the caves of Nile« 
 
 Ca;s. Most probable. 
 
 That so she died ; for her physician tells rae, 
 She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite 
 Of easy ways to die. — Take up her bed; 
 And bear her women from the monument: — 
 She shall be buried by her Antony : 
 No grave upon the earth shall clip in it 
 A pair so famous. High events as these 
 Strike those that make them ; and their story is 
 No less in. pity, than his glory, which 
 Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall . 
 In solemn shew, attend this funeral ; 
 And then to Rome. — Come, Dolabell.1, we 
 High order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt. 
 
CYMBELINE. 
 
 This pl>f hag many just sentiments, some naturul dialogue, and some pleasing scenes; but they lire obtained at 
 the etpense of much inconfjruity. To remark the folly of the tiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion ot 
 the noTses, and manners ot diU'erent times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste 
 criticum on unresisting imbecility; upon faults, too evident for detection, too gross for aggravation. Juhnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 fYMBELINE, King of Britain. 
 
 CLOTEN, Sun to the Queen liy a former Husband. -. 
 
 LEONATUS POSTHDMUS, a Gentleman, Hushand to 
 
 Imogen. 
 BEJjAUIUS, a banished Lord, disguined under the name 
 
 of Morgan. 
 rrifriji-oiiTe V Sons to Cymbeline, disguised under 
 Invruini^' < the names of Polydore and Cadwal, 
 AKV 1KAOU&, J supposed Sons to Ueiarius. 
 PHILARIO, Friend to Posthumus, » r,„,i„„^ 
 lACaiMO, Friend to Philario, f ^'«"«'W- 
 A French Genileinan, Friend to ]-ki!arin. 
 CAlU.S LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces. 
 
 A Roman Captain. 
 
 Two British Cap!ai)ts. 
 
 PI.SANIO, Serva7it to Posthumus. 
 
 CORNELIUS, a Physician 
 
 Two Gentlemen. ^ 
 
 Ttvo Gaolers. 
 
 gUEEN, Wife to Cymheline. 
 
 IMOGEN, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen. 
 
 HELEN, WumtDi to Imngen. 
 
 Lords. Ladies, Ki/mnn Senators, Tribunes, Apparitions , 
 a Soothsayer, a JJntrh Gentleman, a Spanish Gentle- 
 man, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Mts 
 sengers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Sometimes in Britain ; sometimes in Italy. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Britain. The Garden behind 
 Cymbeline's Palace. 
 
 Enter two Gentlemeyt. 
 
 1 Gent. You do not meet a man, but frowns : our 
 
 bloods 
 No more obey (he heavens, than our courtiers ; 
 Still seem, as does the kijig's. 
 
 2 Gent. But what's the matter? 
 
 1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, 
 
 whom 
 He pnrpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow, 
 That late he married,^ hath referr'd herself 
 Unto a vioor but wortliy gentleman: she's wedded; 
 Her husoaiid banish'd ; she imprison'd : all 
 Is outward sorrow; though, I tliink, the king 
 lie touch'd at very heart. 
 
 2 Gent. None but the king? 
 
 1 Gent. He, that hath lost her, too : so is the queen. 
 That most desir'd the match : But not a courtier, 
 A^lthoueh they wear tiieir faces to the bent 
 
 Of -the king's looks, hath a heart tfiat is not 
 Glad at the thing they scowl at. 
 
 2 Gent. And why so '■! 
 
 1 Gent. Ile,thathathmiss"d the princess, isa thing 
 Too bad for bad report : and he, that hath her, 
 
 (I mean, that niarried her, — alack, good man I — 
 And therefore banish'd) is a creature such 
 As, to seek thVough the regions of the earth 
 For one liis like, there would be something failing 
 In him that sholild compare. I do not think. 
 So fair an outward, and such stulF within. 
 Endows a man but he. 
 
 2 Gent. You speak him far. 
 
 1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within himself: 
 Crush him together, rather than unfold 
 
 His measure duly. 
 
 2 Gbnt. What's his name, and birth? 
 
 1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root : His father 
 Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour 
 Against the Romans with Cassibelan ; 
 But had his titles by Tetiantius, whom 
 He serv'd with glory ami admir'd success ; 
 So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus: 
 And had, besides this gentleman in question. 
 Two other sons, who, in the wars o"tlie time. 
 Died with their swords in hand; lor which their 
 
 father, 
 (Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrow, 
 That he quit being ; and his gentle hidy, 
 Big of this gentleman, our theme, decens'd 
 As he was born. The king, he takes the babb 
 €o ;,;s protection; calls him Posthumus; 
 Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chaiuber ; 
 
 Puts him to all the learnings that his time 
 Could make him the receiver of; which he took. 
 As we do air, last as 'twas oiinister'd ; and 
 In his spring became a harvest: Liv'd in court, 
 (Which rare it is to do.) most prais'd, most lov'd: 
 A saniple to the youngest ; to the more mature, 
 A glass that feated them ; and to the graver, 
 A child tliat guided dotard.s : to his mistress, 
 For whom he now is banish'd, — her own price 
 Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; 
 By her election may be truly read, 
 What kind of man he is. 
 
 2 Gent. I honour him 
 
 Even out of your report. But, 'pray yon, tell me. 
 Is she sole child to the king? 
 
 1 Gent. His only child. 
 
 He had two sons, (if this be worth your hearing, 
 Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, 
 rthe swathing clothes the other, from their nursery 
 Were stolen ; and to this hour, no guess in know- 
 Which way they went. (ledge 
 
 2 Gent. How long is this ago? 
 
 1 Gent, Some twenty years. [vey'd ! 
 
 2 Ge7it. That a king's children should be so con- 
 So slackly guarded ! and the search so slow. 
 
 That could not trace them 1 
 
 1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, 
 Or that the negligence may well be lauj^i'd at. 
 Yet is it true, sir. 
 
 2 Gelit. I do well believe you. [man, 
 1 Ge7it. We must forbear : Here comes the gentle- 
 
 The queeu, and princes.s. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II,— TAe same. 
 EnteT the Queen, Posthumus, and Imogen. 
 
 Queen. No, be assur'd you shall not find lae, 
 daughter. 
 After the slander of most step-mothers, 
 Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but 
 Your gaoler shall deliver you tlie keys 
 'J'hat lock up your restraint. For you, Posthurans, 
 So sooy as I can win the ollended king, 
 I will be known your advocate : marry, yet, 
 Tiie fire of rage is in him ; and 'twere good. 
 You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience 
 Your wisdom may inform you. 
 
 Post. Please your highness, 
 
 I will from hence to-day. 
 
 Queen. You know the peril :- 
 
 I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying 
 'i'he pangs of barr'd atieclions ; though the king 
 Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit 
 
 I mo. O. 
 
 Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 031 
 
 Can tickle where she wounds ! — My dearest hus- 
 band, 
 I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing, 
 (Always reserv'd my ho/y duty,) what 
 His rage can do on nie : You must be gone ; 
 And I shall here abide the hourly shot 
 Of angry eyes; not comforted to live, 
 IJiit there is this jewel in the world, 
 'I'iiat 1 may see again. 
 
 Post. My queen! my mistress I 
 O, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause 
 I'o be suspected of more tenderness 
 I'han doth become a mnn ! I will remain 
 The loyal'st husband that did e'-er plight troth. 
 My resideifce in Rome at one Philario's ; 
 Who to my father was a friend, to me 
 Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, 
 •And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, 
 Though ink be made of gall. 
 
 Re-enter Queen. 
 
 Queen, Be brief, I pray you : 
 
 If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
 How much of his displeasure : Yet I'll move him 
 
 {Aside.) 
 To walk this way : I never do him wrong. 
 But he does buy my injuries, to be friends ; 
 Pays dear for my ofl'ences. [Exit. 
 
 Post. .Should we be taking leave 
 
 As long a term as yet we have to live. 
 The loathness to depart would grow : Adieu ! 
 
 l7no. Nay, stay a little : 
 Were you but riding forth to air yourself. 
 Such party were too petty. Look here, love ; 
 This diamond was my mother's- take it, heart; 
 But keep it till you woo another wife. 
 When Imogen is dead. 
 
 Post. How ! how ! another ? — 
 You gentle gods, give nie but this I have, ' 
 And sear up my embracements from a next 
 With bonds of death ! — Remain thou here, 
 
 [Putting on the ring.) 
 While sense can keep it on ! And sweetest, fairest, 
 As I my poor self did exchange for you, 
 To your so infinite loss ; so, in our trifles 
 I still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; 
 It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it 
 Upon tliis fairest prisoner. 
 
 (Putting a bracelet on her arm.) 
 
 Imo. O, the gods ! 
 
 When shall we see again? 
 
 Enter Cymbeune and Lords. 
 
 Post. Alack, the king! 
 
 Ctjm. Thou basest thing, avoid ! hence from my 
 sight ! 
 If, after this command, thou fraught the court, 
 \Vitli thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away ! 
 Thou ait poison to my blood. 
 
 Post. The sods protect you ! 
 
 And bless the good remainders of the court ! 
 I am gone. [Exit. 
 
 Jmv. There cannot be a pinch 'm death 
 
 More !>harp than this is. 
 
 Cym. O disloyal thing, 
 
 That shoulfl'st repair my youth ; thou heapest 
 A year's ajje on me ! 
 
 imo. I beseech you, sir. 
 
 Harm not yoi>rself with your vexation ; I 
 Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare 
 fcSabdiies ali pangs, all fears. 
 
 C'y^«. Past grace? obedience? 
 
 Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, past 
 grace. [queen! 
 
 Cym. '1 hilt might'st have had the sole son of my 
 
 Imo. O bit- ss'd, that f miglit not I I chose an eagle, 
 Ariil tiid avoid a pnltock. 
 
 Cym. Ttioii tuok'st a beggar ; would'st have made 
 A «f a*, for baseness. [my throne 
 
 i 1)1(1. No ; I rather added 
 
 A lustre to it 
 
 Cym. O thou vile one . 
 
 Imo. Sir, 
 
 It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthnrons : 
 You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is 
 A man, worth any woman ; overbuys me 
 Almost the sum he pays. 
 
 Cym. What ! — art thou mad ? 
 
 Imo. Almost, sir : Heaven restore me ! — 'Would 
 I were 
 A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leonatus 
 Our neighbour shepherd's son I 
 
 Re-enter Queen. 
 
 Cym. Thou foolish thing! — 
 
 They were again together : you have done 
 
 {To the Queen, 
 Not after our command. Away with her. 
 And pen her up. 
 
 Queen. 'Beseech your patience : — Peace, 
 Dear lady daughter, peace ; — Sweet sovereign. 
 Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some 
 Out of your best advice. [comfort 
 
 Cym. Nay, let her languish 
 
 A dmp of blood a-day ; and, being aged, 
 Die of this folly ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter Pisanio. 
 
 Queen. Fye ! — you must give way . 
 
 Here is your servant. — How now, sir ? What news ? 
 
 Pis. My lord, your son, drew on my master. 
 
 Queen. Ha I 
 
 No harm, I trust, is done ? 
 
 Pis. There might have been, 
 
 But that my master rather play'd than fought. 
 And had no help of anger: Ihey were parted 
 By gentlemen at hand. 
 
 Queen I am very glad on't. [part. — 
 
 Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he tides his 
 To draw upon an exile ! — O brave sir ! — 
 I would they were in Afric both together ; 
 Myself by with a needle, tliat I might prick 
 The goer back. — Why came you from your master.' 
 
 Pis. On his command : He would not suffer me 
 To bring him to the haven : left these notes 
 Of what commands I should be subject to, 
 W hen it pleas'd you to employ me. 
 
 Queen. This hath been 
 
 Your faithful .servant; I dare lay mine honour. 
 He will remain so. 
 
 Pis. I humbly thank your highness. 
 
 Queen. Pray, walk a while. 
 
 Imo. About some half hour hence, 
 
 I pray you, speak with me : you shall, at least, 
 Go see my lord aboard : for this time, leave me. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene HI. — A public Place. 
 Enter Cloten and two Lords. 
 
 1 Lord, Sir, I would advise yon to shift a sliirt; 
 the violence of action hath made you reek as a sa- 
 crifice : Where air comes out, air comes in : tlieie'a 
 none abroad so wholesome as tiiat you \ ent. 
 
 Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it-* 
 Have I hurt him? 
 
 2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. 
 
 {Aside. 
 
 1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable carcass 
 if he be not hurt : it is a tlioroughfare fur steel, if i 
 be not hurt. 
 
 2 Lord. His steel was in debt; it went o'the 
 backside the town. {Aside.) 
 
 Clo. The vilain would not stand me. 
 2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward 
 your face. ^ {Aside.) 
 
 1 Lord. Stand you ! You have land enough ol 
 your own : but he added to your having ; gave you 
 some ground. 
 
 2 Lord. As many inches as yon have oceans; 
 Puppies I {Aside.} 
 
 Clo. I \rould, they had not come between us. 
 
632 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 2 Lord. So would I, till yon had measuied liow 
 Jon^ a fool you were i:pon the f;ioiind. [Aside.) 
 
 Clo. And that she should lose this fellow, and 
 refuse me I 
 
 2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she 
 IS damned. [Aside.) 
 
 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beHiity and 
 her brain go not together : Slie's a good sign, but 
 1 have seen small retieclion of her wit. 
 
 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the re- 
 flection should hurt her. [Aside.) 
 
 Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber : 'VV^ould there 
 had been some hurt done ! 
 
 'Z Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the Till 
 of an ass, which is no great hurt. -[Aside.) 
 
 Clo. You'll go with us ? 
 
 1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
 Clo. Nav, come, let's go together. 
 
 2 Lord.' Well, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. 
 Enter Imogen and Pisanio. 
 
 Imo, I would thou grew'st unto the shores o'the 
 haven, 
 And question'dst every sail : If he should write, 
 And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost 
 As nlTer'd mercy is. What was the last 
 That he spake to thee '? 
 
 Pis. 'Twas, His queen, his queen! 
 
 Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief? 
 
 Pis. And kiss'd it, madam. 
 
 Imo. Senseless linen I happier therein than 1 1 — 
 And that was all ? 
 
 Pis. No, madam; for so long 
 
 As he could make me with this eye or ear 
 Distinguish him from others, he did keep 
 The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief. 
 Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind 
 Could best express how slow his soul saii'd on, 
 How swift his ship. 
 
 Imo. Thou should'st have made him 
 
 As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
 To after-eye him. 
 
 Pis. Madam, so I did. 
 
 Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings ; 
 crack'd them, but 
 To look upon him ; till the diminution 
 Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle ; 
 Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from 
 The smallness of a^nat to air ; and then [nio, 
 
 Have turn'd mine eye^ and wept. — But, good Pisa- 
 When shall we hear from him ? 
 
 Pis. Be assur'd, madam. 
 
 With his next vantage. 
 
 Imo. I did not take my leave of him, bnt had 
 Most pretty things to say : ere I could tell him, 
 How i would think on him, at certain hours, 
 Such thoughts, and such ; or I could make him swear. 
 The shes of Italy should not betray 
 Mine interest, and his honour; or have charg'd him 
 At the sixth hour of raorn, at noon, at midnight, 
 To encounter me with orisons, for then 
 I am in heaven for him ; or ere I could 
 Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 
 Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father. 
 And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north. 
 Shakes all our biids from growing. 
 
 Enter a Lady. 
 
 Lady. The queen, madam. 
 
 Desires your highness' company. fi>afch'd. — 
 
 Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them des- 
 I will attend the queen. 
 
 I^is. IMadam, I sliall. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Rome. An Apartment in Philario's 
 
 House. 
 Enter Piiilario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutch- 
 Man, and a Spaniard. 
 lack. Believe it, sir : I have seen him in Britain : 
 
 he was then of a crescent note; expected to prove 
 so worthy, as since he hath been allowed the narae 
 of: but 1 could then have looked on him without 
 the help of admiration : though the catalogue of his 
 endovvn)ents had been tabled by his side, and I to 
 peruse him by items. 
 
 Phi. You speak of him, when he was less fur- 
 nislied, than now he is, with that which makes hiin 
 both without and within. 
 
 French. I have seen him in France : we had very 
 many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes 
 as he. 
 
 lach. This matter of marrying his king's daugh- 
 ter, (wherein he must be weighed ra^er by her 
 value, than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a 
 great deal from the matter. 
 
 French. And then his banishment : — 
 
 lack. Ay, and the approbation of those, that 
 weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours, 
 are wonderfully to extend him ; be it but to fortify 
 her judgment, which else an easy battery, might lay 
 flat, for taking a beggar without more quality. But 
 how comes it, he is to sojourn with you? How 
 creeps acquaintance :" 
 
 Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; to 
 whom I have been often bound for no less than my 
 life :— 
 
 Enter Posthumus. 
 
 Here comes the Briton : Let him be so entertained 
 amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your know- 
 ing, to a stranger of his quality. — I beseech you all, 
 be better known to this gentleman; whom I com- 
 mend to you, as a noble friend of mine : How wor- 
 thy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather 
 than story him in his own heanng. 
 
 French. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. 
 
 Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for 
 courtesies, which I will be ever to i>ay, and yet pay 
 still. 
 
 French. Sir, 3'ou o'er-rate my poor kindness : 1 
 was glad I did atone my countryman and you ; it 
 had been pity, you should have Deen put together 
 with so mortal a purpose, as (hen each bore, upon 
 importance of so slight and trivial a nature. 
 
 Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young 
 traveller; rather shunned to go even with what ! 
 heard, than in my every action to be guidid by 
 other's experiences: but, upon my mended judgment, 
 (if I ofl'end not to say it is mended,) my quarrel wast 
 not altogether slight. 
 
 French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement 
 of swords; and by such two, that would, by all 
 likelihood, have confounded one the other, or have 
 fallen both. [difference? 
 
 lach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the 
 
 French. Safely, I think ; 'twas a contention in 
 public, which may, without contradiction; suffer 
 the report. It was nuich like an argument that fell 
 out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our 
 country mistresses : Tliis gentleman at (hat time 
 vouching, ^nd upon warrant of bloody afhrniation.) 
 his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chast", constant- 
 qualified, and less atteraptible, than any the rarest 
 of our ladies in France. 
 
 lach. That lady is not now living ; or this gei>- 
 tlenian's opinion, by this worn out. 
 
 Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. 
 
 lach. You nmst not so far prefer her 'fore ours of 
 Italy. 
 
 Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, 
 I would abate her nothing ; though I profess myself 
 her adorer, not her friend. 
 
 lack. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in- 
 hand comparison,) had been something too fiiir, and 
 too good for any lady in Britany. If she went be- 
 fore others I have seen, as that diamond of yours 
 out-lustres many I have beheld, 1 could not but be- 
 lieve she excelled many : but I have not seen the 
 most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 633 
 
 Post. I (iraised lur as I lated her : so do I my 
 stone. 
 
 Inch. What do you esteem it at? 
 Post. More than tlie world enjoys. 
 
 loch. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, 
 or she's ontprized by a trifle. 
 
 Post. V'oii are mistaken : the one may he sold, 
 or given : if there were wealth enoii},'ii i'or tlie pur- 
 chase, or merit tor the gift : tlie other is not a thing 
 for sale, and only (he gilt of the gods. 
 
 Inch. V\ liich the gods have gi\en you ? 
 
 Post. Which, by their graces, I \^ill keep. 
 
 lack. \i\\ may wear her in title yours : but, you 
 know, strange fowl liglit upon neighbouring ponds. 
 Your ring may be stolen too : so, of your brace <it 
 nnprize;d)le estirnhtions, the one is but frail, and 
 the other casual ; a cunning thief, or a that-way- 
 accomplishrd courtier, would hazard the winning 
 both of hrst wnd last. 
 
 Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished 
 a courtier, to convince the honour of my mistress; 
 ii, in the holding or loss of that, you term iier frail. 
 £ do nothing doubt, you have store of lhie\es ; not- 
 withstaiidiUi', I fear not my ring. 
 
 Phi. Let lis leave here, gentle uifn. 
 
 Post. Sir, with all my heart. Tliis worthy signior, 
 I thank him. makes no stranger of me; we are fa- 
 miliar at tirst. 
 
 lach. With five times so much conversation, I 
 should get ground of your fair mistress : make her 
 go back, e\fn to the yielding; hud I admittance, 
 and opportunity to friend. 
 
 Post. No, no. 
 
 lach. I daie, thereon, pawn the moiety of my 
 estate to yniT ring; which, in my opinioji, o'erva- 
 hies it soriK thing : But I make my wager rather 
 against your c ontidence, than her reputation : and, 
 to bar your oli'ence herein too, I durst attempt it 
 against any i^ dy in the world. 
 
 Post. \ i>» are a great deal abused in too bold a 
 persuasion ; und I (Joubt not you sustain what you're 
 worthv (it, hv your attempt, 
 
 lach. What's that? 
 
 Post. A re| ulse : Though your attempt, as you 
 call it, desl-r^es more; a punishment too. 
 
 Phi. UeiidfiTien, enough o\' this; it came in too 
 suddenly ; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, 
 be better acquainted. 
 
 lach. '\\ (juld i had put my estate, and my neigh- 
 bour's, on the approbation of what I have spoke. 
 
 Post. W liat lady would you choose to assail '? 
 
 Inch. ^ ours ; vvhom in constancy, you think, 
 stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats 
 to your ring, (hat, comineiid me to the court where 
 your lady rs, with no more advantage than the op- 
 portunity oi a second conference, and I will bring 
 from theiRc that honour of liers, which you iniagiue 
 so reserved. 
 
 Post. I "ill wage against your gold, gold to it : 
 my ring I In 'hi :ss dear as my finger; 'tis part ol it. 
 
 lach. Wn\ are a friend, and therein the wiser. If 
 yoi! buy hidles' flesh at a million a drafii, you can- 
 not j)resprve it liom tainting : But, I see, yon iiave 
 some religion in you, that you fear. 
 
 Post. 'I'his is but a custom in your tongue; you 
 bear a graver pin pose, I hope. 
 
 Inch. I am ti e master of my speeches ; and 
 would undergo what's spoken, I swear. 
 
 Post. Will you? — I shall but lend my diamond 
 till your return ; — Let there be covenants drawn 
 between us : iVIy mistress exceeds in goodness the 
 hugeness of vonr unworthy thinking: I dare you to 
 this match : here's my ring. 
 
 Phi. I will have it no lay. 
 
 lack. By the gods it is one : — If I bring yon no 
 sufficient testimony, that I have enjoyed the dearest 
 bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats 
 are yours : so is your dmuiond too. If 1 ( ome olf, 
 and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, 
 she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are 
 
 yours: — provided, I have your commendation, for 
 uiy more free entertainment. 
 
 Post. I enibrace these conditicms ; let ns have 
 articles lietwixt us : — only, thus far you shall an- 
 swer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give 
 me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am 
 no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate : 
 if she remain unseduced, (yon not making it appear 
 otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you 
 have made to her chastity, you shall asiSM'er me 
 with your sword. 
 
 Inch. Your hand ; a covenant : we will have 
 these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight 
 away for Britain ; lest the bargain should catch cold, 
 and starve : I will fetch my gold, and have our two 
 wagers recorded. 
 
 Post. Agreed. \Exeiint Posthumus and lachimo. 
 
 French. Will tiiis hold, think you ? 
 
 Phi. Signior lachimo will not from it. Pray, let 
 us follow 'em. [E.xeunt. 
 
 Scene W.— Britain. A Room in Ct/mbeline's 
 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius. 
 
 Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather 
 those (lowers : 
 Make haste : Who has the note of them ? 
 
 1 Ladij. I, madam. 
 
 Queen. Despatch. — [Exeunt Ladies. 
 
 Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs ? 
 
 Cor. Pleaseth your highnesii, ay: here thev are, 
 madam : [Presenting a, small box.) 
 
 Hut T beseech your grace, (without offence; 
 My conscience bids me ask;) wherefore you have 
 Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, 
 Which are the movers of a languisliing dei'tli; 
 But, though slow, deadly? 
 
 Queen. I do wonder, doctor. 
 
 Thou ask'st me snch a question : Have I not been 
 Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how 
 'J'o make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so. 
 That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
 For my confections ? Having thus far proceeded, 
 (Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not meet, 
 That I did amplify my judgment in 
 Other conclusions ? 1 will try the forces 
 Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
 We count not worth the hanging, (but none human,) 
 To try viie vigour of them, and apply 
 Allayments to their act; and by them gather 
 Their several virtues, and eftects. 
 
 Cor. _ Your highness 
 
 Shall from this practice but make hard your heart : 
 Besides, the seeing these elfects will be 
 Both noisjMie and infectious. 
 
 Queeti. O, content thee. — 
 
 Enter Pisanio. 
 
 Here comes a flattering rascal ; upon him {Aside.} 
 W\\\ 1 first work: he's for his master. 
 And enemy to my son. — -How now, Pisanio? — 
 Doctor, your service for this time is ended ; 
 Take your own way. 
 
 Cor. I do suspect you, madam ; 
 
 But you shall do no harm. [Aside.'S 
 
 Queen. Haik thee, a word. — [To Pisanio.) 
 
 Cor. (Aside.) I do not like her. She doth think 
 she has 
 Strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit. 
 And will not trust one of her malice with 
 A drug of such danind nature: Those, slie has. 
 Will stufjify and dull the sense awhile: [dogs; 
 
 Which first, perchance, she'll pro\e on cats, ana 
 Then afterward up higher; but there is 
 No danger in what shew of death it makes, 
 Alore than the locking up the spirits a time. 
 To be more fresh, ie\i\ing. She is Ibol'd 
 VVith a most false eifect; and I the truor, 
 So to be false with her. 
 
 Queen. No furthei service, dociw 
 
634: 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act T. 
 
 Cntil 1 send for thee. 
 
 Cor. I humbly take my leave, [Exit. 
 
 Queen. Weeps she still, say'stthou? Dost thou 
 think, in time 
 She will not quench ; and let instnictions enter 
 Where folly now possesses? Do thou work; 
 When thou shait bring me word, she loves my son, 
 I'll tell Ihee, on the instant, thou art then 
 As great as is thy master: ii;reater ; for 
 His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name 
 Is at last gasp : Return he cannot, nor 
 Continue where he is: to sliift his being. 
 Is to exchange one misery with another; 
 And every day that comes, comes to decay 
 A day's work in liisn: What shalt thou expect, 
 To be depender on a thing that leans '? 
 Who cannot be new built; nor has no friends, 
 
 {T/ie Queen drops a box ; Pisanio takes it up.) 
 So much as but to prop him ? — Thou tak'st up 
 Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour: 
 It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
 Five tiuies redeeni'd from death : I do not know 
 What is more cordial : — Nay, I prythee, take it ; 
 It is an earnest of a further good 
 That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
 The case stands with her ; do't, as from thyself. 
 Think what a chance thou changest on ; but think 
 Thou hast thy mistress still ; to boot, my son,, 
 Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king 
 To any shape of thy preferment, such 
 As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly. 
 That set thee on to this desert, am bound 
 To load thy merit richly. Call my women : 
 Think on my words. {Exit Pisa.) — A sly and con- 
 stant knave ; 
 Not to be shak'd : the agent for his master ; 
 And the remembrancer of her, to hold 
 The hand fast to her lord. — I have given him that. 
 Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her 
 Of liegers tor her sweet ; and which she, after, 
 'Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd 
 
 Re-enter Pisanio and Ladies. 
 
 To taste of too. — So, so; — well done, well done : 
 The violets, cowslips, and the primroses. 
 Bear to my closet: — Fare thee well, Pisanio; 
 Think on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 
 
 Pis. And shall do: 
 
 But when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
 I'll choke myself : there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Imogen. 
 Imo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; 
 A foolish suitor to a wedded lady. 
 That hath her husband banish'd ; — O, that husband ! 
 My supreme crown of grief ! and those repeated 
 Vexations of it! Had 1 been thief-stolen. 
 As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable 
 Is the desire that's glorious : Blessed be those, 
 How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills. 
 Which seasons comfort. — Who may this be ? Eye ! 
 
 Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. 
 
 Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome; 
 Comes from my lord witlj letters. 
 
 loch. Change you, madam ? 
 
 The worthy Leonatus is in safety. 
 And greets your highness dearly. 
 
 [Presents a letter.) 
 
 Imo. Thanks, good sir : 
 
 You are kinilly welcome. 
 
 lack. All of her, that is out of door, most rich ! 
 
 {Aside.) 
 If she be fiirnish'd with a mind so rare. 
 She is alone the Arabian bird ; and I 
 Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend ! 
 Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! 
 Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; 
 father, directly fly. 
 
 Imo. (Reads.) He is one of the noblest note, to 
 whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect 
 upon him accordingly, as you value your truest 
 
 Leonatus. 
 So far I read aloud : 
 But e\en the very middle of my heart 
 Is warm'd by the rest, and Uikes it tiiankfully. — 
 You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I - 
 Have words to bid you ; and shall find it so 
 In all that I can do. 
 
 lach. Thanks, fairest lady, — 
 
 Wliat ! are men mad ? Hath nature given them eyes 
 To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
 Of sea and laud, which can distinguish 'twixt 
 The fiery orbs above, and the twiim'd stones 
 Upon the number'd beach ^ and can we nut 
 Partition make with spectacles so precious 
 'Twixt fair and fonl ? 
 
 Imo. What makes your admiration ? 
 
 lach. It cannot be i'the eye ; for apes and mon- 
 keys, 
 'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this was, and 
 Contemn with mows the other : Nor i'the judgment ; 
 For idiots, in this case of favour, would 
 Be wisely definite ! Nor i'the appetite ; 
 Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd. 
 Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
 Not so allur'd to feed. 
 
 Imo. What is the matter, trow ? 
 
 lach. The cloyed will, 
 
 (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, 
 That tub both fill'd and running,) raveuing first 
 The lamb, longs alter for the garbage. 
 
 Imo. What, dear sir. 
 
 Thus raps yon? Are you well? 
 
 lach. 'i'hanks, madam ; well : — 'Beseech yon, 
 sir, desire {To Pisanio.) 
 
 My man's abode, where I did leave him : he 
 Is strange and peevish. 
 
 Pis. I was going, sir, 
 
 To give him welcome. [Exit Pisanio. 
 
 Imo. Continues well my lorfl ? His health, be- 
 seech you ? 
 
 lach. Well, madam. 
 
 Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth ? I hope, he is. 
 
 lach. Exceeding pleasant : none a stranger there 
 So merry and so gamesome : he is call'd 
 The Briton reveller. 
 
 Imo. When he was here, 
 
 He did incline to sadness; and oft-times 
 Not knowing why. 
 
 lack. I never saw him sad. 
 
 There is a Frenchman his companion, one. 
 An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves 
 A Gallian girl at home : he funiaces 
 The thick sighs from him ; whiles the jolly Brilon 
 (Your lord, I mean,) laughs from's iVee lungs, 
 
 cries, ! 
 Can my sides hold, to think-, that man, — ivlio knoira 
 By history, report, or his otvn proof 
 What tvoman is. yea, what she cannot choose 
 But must be. — tvill his free hours languish for 
 Assured bondage f 
 
 Imo. Will my lord say so? 
 
 lach. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood with 
 laughter. 
 It is a recreation lo be by, [know. 
 
 And hear him mock the Fienchman : But, heavens 
 Some men are much to blame. 
 
 Imo. Not he, I hope. 
 
 lach. Not he: But yet Heaven's bounty towards 
 him might 
 be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much ; 
 In you, — which I count his, beyond all talents,- - 
 Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound 
 To pity too. 
 
 Imo. What do you pity, sir ? 
 
 lach. Two creatures, heartily. 
 Imo. Am 1 one, sir? 
 
 You look on me : What wreck discern you in me. 
 Deserves your pity, sir ? 
 
Act it. Scene 1. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 635 
 
 Jach. Lamentable ! What ! 
 
 To hide me from the radiant suo, and solace 
 I'the dungeou by a snuft'!" 
 
 Imo. I pray you, sir, 
 
 Deliver with more openness your answers 
 To my demands. Why do you pity rae ? 
 
 laclu That others do, 
 I was about to say, enjoy your — But 
 It is aa office of the gods to venge it, 
 Not mine to speak on't. 
 
 Imo. You do seem to know 
 
 Sometliin" of me, or what concerns me ; 'Pray you, 
 (Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more 
 Than to be sure they do : For certainties 
 E tlier are past remedies; or, timely knowing, 
 Tiie remedy then born,) discover to me 
 VVhat botli you spur and stop. 
 
 lack. Had I this cheek 
 
 To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, wiiose touch, 
 Wliose every toucli, would force the feeler's soul 
 To the oath of Royalty ; tliis object, which 
 Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
 Fixing it only here: should I (datnn'd tlien,) 
 Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
 That mount the Capitol ; join gripes with hands 
 Made hard with liourly falsehood (falsehood, as 
 With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye, 
 Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
 That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit. 
 That aH the plagues of hell should at one time 
 Encounter such revolt. 
 
 Imo. My lord, 1 fear, 
 
 Has forgot Britain. 
 
 lack. And himself. Not I. 
 
 Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce 
 The beggary of his change : but 'tis your graces, 
 That from my mutest conscience, to my tongue. 
 Charms this report out. 
 
 Imo. Let me hear no more. [heart 
 
 lack. O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my 
 With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady 
 So fair, and fasten'd to an empery. 
 Would make the great'st king double ! to be 
 
 partner'd 
 With tomboys, hir'd with that self-exhibition. 
 Which your own coffers yield ! with diseas'd ven- 
 tures, 
 That play with all infirmities for gold. 
 Which rottenness can lend nature ; such boil'd stuff. 
 As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd ; 
 Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you 
 Recoil fiom your great stock. 
 
 hno. Reveng'd ! 
 
 How should I be reveng'd? If this be true, 
 (.\s I have such a heart, that both mine ears 
 Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true, 
 How should I be reveng'd ? 
 
 lack. Should he make me 
 
 Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; 
 Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps. 
 In your despite, upon your i urse ? Revenge it. 
 I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure ; 
 More noble than that runagate to your bed ; 
 And will continue fast to your affection, 
 Still close, as sure. 
 
 Imo. What ho, Pisanio ! 
 
 Jack. Let me my service tender on your lips. 
 
 Imo, Away! — 1 do condemn mine ears, that have 
 So long attended thee. — If thou wert honourable. 
 Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not 
 For such an end thou seek'st; as base, as strange. 
 Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far 
 From thy report, as thou from honour; and 
 Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains ' 
 Time and the devil alike — What, ho ! Pisanio I — 
 The king my father shall be made acquainted 
 Of thy assault: if he shall think it tit, 
 A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart 
 An ill a Romish stew, and to expound 
 HiK beastly mind to us ; he hatli a court 
 
 He little cares for, and a daughter whom 
 
 He not respects at all. — What ho, Pisanio!— 
 
 lack. O happy Leonatus ! I may say ; 
 The credit that thy lady liath of thee, 
 Deserves thy trust; and thj most perfect goodness 
 Her assur'd credit! — Blessed live you long! 
 A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever 
 Country call'd his ! and you his mistress, only 
 For the most worthiest tit! Give me your pardon. 
 I have spoke this, to know if your affiance 
 Were deeply rooted ; and shall make your lord, 
 That which he is, new o'er: And he is one 
 The truest manner'd ; such a holy witch, 
 That he enchants societies unto him : 
 Half all men's hearts are his. 
 
 Imo. You make amends. 
 
 lack. He sits 'mongat men, like a descended god: 
 He hath a kind of honour sets him off. 
 More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry. 
 Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd 
 To try your taking oi'a false report; which hath 
 Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment 
 In the election of a sir so rare, 
 Which you know cannot erj- : The love I bear him 
 Made me to fan yon thus ; but the gods made you. 
 Unlike all other, chaifless. Pray, your pardon. 
 
 Imo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the court 
 for yours. 
 
 lack. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot 
 To entreat your grace but in a small request. 
 And yet of moment too, for it concerns 
 Your lord; myself, and other noble friends, 
 Are partners in the business. 
 
 Imo. Pray, what is't ? 
 
 lack. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord, 
 (The best feather of our wing) have mingled sums. 
 To buy a present for the emperor : 
 Which I, the factor for the rest, have done 
 In France : 'Tis plate, of rare device ; and jewels 
 Of rich and exquisite form ; their values great ; 
 And I am something curious, being strange, 
 To have them in safe stowage : May it please you 
 To take them in protection ? 
 
 Imo. Willingly j 
 
 And pawn mine honour for their safety : since 
 My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them 
 In my bed-chamber. 
 
 lack. They are in a trunk. 
 
 Attended by my men : I will make bold 
 To send them to you, only for this night ; 
 I must aboard to-fnorrow. 
 
 Imo. O, no, no. 
 
 lack. Yes, beseech ; or 1 shall short my word. 
 By iength'ning my return. From Gallia 
 I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise 
 To see your grace. 
 
 Imo. I thank you for your pains; 
 
 But not away to-morrow ? 
 
 lack. O, I must, madam : 
 
 Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please 
 To greet your lord with writing, do't to night. 
 I have outstood my time ; which is material 
 To the tender of our present. 
 
 Imo. I will write. 
 
 Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe bejtept, 
 And truly yielded you : You are very welcome. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene I. — Court before Cymbeline's Palace. 
 Enter Cloten and two Lords. 
 
 Clo. Was there ever man had such luck ! when 
 I kissed the jack upon an up-cast, to be hit away! 
 I had an hundred pound on't And then a whoreson 
 jackanapes must take me up forswearing: as if I 
 borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend 
 them at my pleasure. 
 
 1 Lord. What got he by that? You have broke 
 his pate with your bowl. 
 
C36 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 2 Lord.M liis vvit had been like him that broke it, 
 it would have ran all out. {Aside.) 
 
 Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is 
 not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths : Ha ? 
 
 2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor {Aside.) crop the ears 
 of them. 
 
 C/o. Whoreson dog! — I give him satisfaction? 
 'Would he had been one of my rank ! 
 
 2 Tyort^. To have smelt like a fool. (Asidn.) 
 
 Clo. 1 am not more vexed at any thing in the 
 earth, — A pox on"t! I had rather not he so noble as 
 I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the 
 queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly 
 full of fighting, and I must go up and down like a 
 cock that no body can match. 
 
 2 Lord. Vou are a cock and capon too; and you 
 crew, cock, with your comb on. {Aside.) 
 
 Clo. S;iye.st thou ? 
 
 1 Lord. It is not fit, yonr lordship should under- 
 take every companion that you give ofl'ence to. 
 
 Clo. No, I know that : but it is fit, I should com- 
 mit offence to my inferiors. 
 
 2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. 
 Clo. Why. so I say. 
 
 1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come 
 to court to-night i 
 
 Clo. A stranger! and I not know on't! 
 
 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows 
 it not. . {Aside.) 
 
 1 Lord. There's an Italian come ; and, 'tis thought, 
 one of Leonatus' friends. 
 
 Clo. Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's an- 
 other, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this 
 stranger ? 
 
 1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. 
 
 Clo. is it fit, 1 went to look upon him? Is there 
 no derogation in't i 
 
 1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. 
 Clo. Not easily, I think. 
 
 2 Lord. You are a fool granted ; therefore your 
 issues being foolish, do not derogate. {Aside.) 
 
 Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian : What I have 
 lost to day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. 
 Come, go. 
 
 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
 
 [E.xcunt Cloten and first Lord. 
 That su( ll a crafty de\il as is his mother 
 Siiould \ ield the world this ass ! a woman, that 
 ijears ail down with her brain ; and this her son 
 Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, 
 And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
 Thou di\ii)e Imogen, what thou«endur'st I 
 Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd; 
 A mother hourly coiniiig plats ; a wooer, 
 More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
 Of thy dear hustjand, than th^t horrid act 
 Of the divorce he'd make ! 'I'he hea\ens hold firm 
 The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd 
 'I'hat temple, thy fair mind ; that thou may'st stand, 
 To enjoy tliy bauisii'd l(jrd, and this great lan.i ! 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Scene II. — A Bed-Chamher ; in one part dfita 
 trunk. 
 
 liMOOEN, rending in her bed; a Lndij attending. 
 
 Imo Who's there ? my woman Helen ? 
 
 Lady. Please you, madam. 
 
 Imo. What hour is it? 
 
 Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 
 
 linu. I have read three hours then : mine eyes are 
 weak : — 
 Fold dovvii the leaf, where I have left: To bed: 
 'I'ake not awjiy the tiiper, leave it burning; 
 And it tliMii canst awake by liiur o'the clock, 
 1 pr'ylhee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 
 
 [Exit Lady. 
 To your protectirm I commend me, gods! 
 From f;iiries, and the tempters of tiie night. 
 Guard me. beseecli ye ! 
 
 {Sleeps. lachimo, from the trunk.) 
 
 lach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labcird 
 
 sense , 
 Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus 
 Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd 
 The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, 
 How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily I 
 And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch ! 
 But kiss; one kiss ! Rubies nnparagon'd, 
 How dearly they do't. — 'Tis her breathing that 
 Perfumes the chamber thus : The flame o'the taper 
 Bows toward her; and would under-peep her lids. 
 To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
 Under these windows : VVhite and azure, lac'd 
 With blue of heaven's own tinct. — But my design ? 
 To note the chamber: I will write all down : — 
 Such, and such, pictures : — There the window : — 
 
 Such 
 The adornment of her bed ; — The arras, iigures. 
 Why, such, and such: — And the contents o'the 
 
 story, — 
 Ah, but some natural notes about her body 
 Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
 Would testify, to enrich mine inventory : 
 O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her ! 
 And be her sense but as a monument. 
 Thus in a chapel lying! — Come off, come off; — 
 
 {Taking off her bracelet.) 
 As slippery as the Gnrdian knot was hard ! — 
 'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly. 
 As strongly as the conscience does within. 
 To the madding of her lord. On her lett breast 
 A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
 I'the bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher. 
 Stronger than ever law could make : this secret 
 Will force him think I have picked the lock, and 
 
 ta'en [end ? 
 
 The treasure of her honour. No more. — To what 
 Why should I write this down, that's ri\etted, 
 Screw'd to my memory ? She hath been reading late 
 The tale of Tereus : here the leaf's turnd down. 
 Where Philomel gave up; — I have enough : 
 To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
 Swift, swift, you dragons of the night ! — that dawning 
 May bare tfie raven's eye : I lodge in fear: 
 Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 
 
 {Clock strikes.) 
 One, two, three, — Time, time ! 
 
 {Goes into the trunk. The scene closes.) 
 
 Scene III. — An Atdc-Chamber adjoining hnogeria 
 Apartment, 
 
 Enter Cloten and Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. Y^our lordship is the most patient man 
 in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. 
 
 Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 
 
 1 Lord. But not e\ery man patient, after the noble 
 temper of your lordship; You are most hot, and 
 furious, when you win. 
 
 Clo. Winning would put any man into courage 
 If I coi'ld get this foolish Imogen, I should have 
 gold enough : It's almost nu-Tning, is't not ? 
 
 ] Lord. Day, ny lord. 
 
 Clo. I would thi-i music would come : I am ad 
 vised to give her music o'mornings; they say, it will 
 penetrate. — 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 
 Come, on, tune : If you can penetrate her with your 
 fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: itnone will 
 do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First 
 a very excellent good- conceited thing ; alter, a 
 wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words t 
 it, — and then let her consider. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Hark .' hark ! the lark at heaven's gale sings 
 
 And Phoebns 'gins arise, 
 His steeds to tvnter at those sprmr^s 
 
 On chalic'djloivers that lies; 
 
SCEXE 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 G37 
 
 And winJcinr) Mary-buds begin 
 To ope their yolden eyes ; 
 JVith every thimj that pretty bin ; 
 My lady sieeet, arise ; 
 Arise, arise. 
 jSo, fjet yon sone; If this penetrate, 1 will consirler 
 your iim.Mc tlie l>et(er: if it do not, it is a \i(e in lier 
 ears, vvhiih liorse-liairs, and cat-.mits, nor the voice 
 of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. 
 
 [Exeunt Musicians. 
 
 Enter Cymbeline and Queen. 
 
 .2 Lord. Here comes tlie king. 
 
 Clo. I am glad, I was up so late ; foi- tliat's the 
 
 reason 1 was np so early : He cannot cliuose but 
 
 take the service I have done, latlierly. — Gooit- 
 
 niorrow to your majesty, and to my gracious nio- 
 
 fiier. rdaiighfcr? 
 
 Cym. Attend you here the door ol our stern 
 U'ill she not forth? 
 
 (Ho. I have assailed her with music, but she 
 voiichsaiVs no notice. 
 
 Cym. The exile other minion is too new ; 
 Sue hatli not yet forgot hiai : some more time 
 Must wear the print of his remembrance out, 
 And then she's yours. 
 
 Quean. You are most bound to the king ; 
 
 \\ no Irt'.s go by no vantages, that may 
 Pieler you to liis daughter: Frame yourself 
 ill orderly solicits ; aiid be friended 
 V\ ilh aptness of the season : make denials 
 Increase your services : so seem, as if 
 \ ou were inspird to do those duties, which 
 Vou fender to her; that you in all obey lier. 
 Save wiien command to your dismission tends, 
 And tiierein you are senseless. 
 
 Clo. Senseless ? not so. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome ; 
 The one is Caius Lucius. 
 
 Cym. A worthy fellow, 
 
 Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; 
 But that's no fault of his : \\'e must receive him 
 According to the honour of his sender; 
 And towards himseli, his goodness i'oiespent on us. 
 We must extend our notice. — Our dear son. 
 When you have given good inorniug to your mistress. 
 Attend the q'leen, and us: we sliail have need 
 'I'o employ you towards tliis Roman. — Come, our 
 queen. 
 [Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess. 
 
 Clo. If she be up, I'll spei;k with her; if not, 
 Let her lie still, and dream.— By youi leave, ho ! — 
 
 {Knocks.) 
 f know her women are about her ; What 
 If I do line one of their liands? 'Tis gold, 
 Whicii buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and makes 
 Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
 Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold 
 Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the 
 thief; [What 
 
 Nny, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man : 
 Can it not do, and undo? I will make 
 One of hei' women lawyer to me ; for 
 I yet not understand the case myself. 
 By your leave. (Knocks.) 
 
 Enter a Lady. 
 
 Lady. Who's there, that knocks ? 
 
 Cto. A gentleman. 
 
 Lndy.^ No more ? 
 
 Clo. Ves, and a gentlewoman's son. 
 
 Lady. , That's more 
 
 Tlian Slime, whose tailors are as dear as yours, 
 CanjustK boast of: What's your lordship's pleasare? 
 
 Clo. \ our lady's person : Is she ready ? 
 
 Lady. ^ Ay, 
 
 To kc p licr chamber. ^report. 
 
 Clo. l'l)':*re'3 gold for you; sell me your good 
 
 Lady. How ! my good name ? or to report ot you 
 W liat 1 snail tiiiok is good?— The princess — 
 
 Enter Imogen. 
 
 Clo. Good -morrow, fairest sister; 
 hand. 
 
 Your sweet 
 
 ipaiiis 
 
 Jmo. Good-morrow, sir: You layout too mucii 
 For purchasing but trouble; the thanks 1 give, 
 Is ieilhig you that I am poor of thanks. 
 And scarce can spare them. 
 
 Clo. Still, I swear, I love you. 
 
 Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep vv ith me : 
 If you swear still, your recompense is still 
 Tiiiit I regard it not. 
 
 Clo. This is no answer. 
 
 hno. But that you shall not say I yield, being 
 silent, 
 I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : i'faith, 
 I shall unfold equal discourtesy 
 To your best kindness; one ol your great knowing 
 Slioidd learn, being taught, forbearance. 
 
 Clo.'Yo lea\e you in your madness^ 'twere my sin: 
 I will not. 
 
 Imo. Fools are not mad folks. 
 
 Clo. Do you call me fool? 
 
 Jmo. As I am mad, I do : 
 If you'll be patient, 111 no more be mad ; 
 That cures us both.- I am nmch sorry, sir, 
 \ O.I put me to forget a lady's manners, 
 By being so verbal : and learn now, for all, 
 That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce. 
 By the very truth of it, I care not for you ; 
 And am so near the lack of charity, 
 rio accuse myself) I hate you : which I had rather 
 You felt, than make't my boast. 
 
 Clo. You sin against 
 
 Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
 The contract you pretend with that base wretch, 
 (One, bred of alrns, and foster'd with cold dishes, 
 With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract, none : 
 And though it be allovv'd in meaner parties, 
 (Yet who, than he, more inean ?) to knit their souls 
 (On whom there is no tnore dependency 
 But brats and beggary) in self-lignrd knot ; 
 Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by 
 The consequence o'the crown : and must not soil 
 The precious note of it with a base slave, 
 A hilding for a li-. ery, a squire's cloth, 
 A pantler not so eminent. 
 
 imo. Profane fellow, 
 
 Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, 
 But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base 
 To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough. 
 Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made 
 Comparative for your virtues, to be styl d 
 The under-hangman of his kingdom; aiid hated 
 For being preferr'd so well. 
 
 Clo. Thesouthfogrothim! 
 
 hno. He never can meet more mischance, than 
 come 
 To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, 
 That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer, 
 In my respect, than all the airs above thee. 
 Were they all made such men. — How now, Pisauio ? 
 
 ^nter PiSANio. 
 
 Clo. His garment ? Now, the devil — 
 
 Lno. To Dorothy my woman hie thee present/y: — 
 
 Clo. His garment ? 
 
 Imo. I am sprighted with a fool? 
 
 Frighted, and anger'd worse : — Go, bid my woman 
 Search for a jewel, that too casually 
 Hath left mine arm ; it was thy master's : 'shrew me, 
 If I woidd lose it for a revenue 
 Of any king's in Europe. I do think, 
 I savv't this morning: confident I am, 
 Last night 'twas on mine arm ; I kiss'd it: 
 I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord 
 That I kiss aught but he. 
 
 Pis. 'Twill not be lost. 
 
 Imo. I hope so: go, and seaich. [Exit Pit, 
 
 Clo. \ oil have abusd me : — 
 
038 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 His meanest garment ? 
 
 Into. Ay ; I said so, sir. 
 
 If you will mak't an action, call witness to't. 
 
 Clo. 1 will inform your father. 
 
 Jmo. Your mother too : 
 
 She's my good lady ; and will conceive, I hope, 
 But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, 
 To the worst of discontent [Exit. 
 
 Clo. I'll be reveng'd : — 
 
 His meanest garment? — Well. [Exit. 
 
 Scene \Y.—Ro7ne. An Apartment in Pkilario's 
 
 House 
 
 Enter Posthumus and Philario. 
 
 Post. Fear it not, sir : I would, I were so sure 
 To win the king, as 1 am bold, her honour 
 Will remain hers. 
 
 Phi. What means do you make to him " 
 
 Post. Not any ; but abide the change of time; 
 Quake in the present winter's state, and wish 
 Tliat warmer days would come : la these fear'd 
 I barely gratify your love ; they failing, [hopes, 
 
 I must die much your debtor. 
 
 Phi. Your very goodness, and your company, 
 O'erpays all I can do. By tliis, your king 
 Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius 
 Will do his commission throughly: And, I tliink. 
 He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages. 
 Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance 
 Is yet fresh in their grief. 
 
 Post. I do believe. 
 
 (Statist though I am none, nor like to be,) 
 .That this will prove a war; and you shall hear 
 The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed 
 In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings 
 Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
 Are men more order'd, than when Julius Caesar 
 Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage 
 Worthy his frowning at : Their discipline 
 (Now mingled with their courages) will make known 
 To their approvers, they are people, such 
 That mend upon the world. 
 
 Enter Jachimo. 
 
 Phi. See ! lachimo ? 
 
 Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land : 
 And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, 
 To make your vessel nimble. 
 
 Phi. Welcome, sir. 
 
 Post. I hope, the briefness of your answer made 
 The speediness of your return. 
 
 lach. Your lady 
 
 Is one the fairest that I have look'd upon. 
 
 Post. And, therewithal, the best; or let her beauty 
 Look through a casement to allure false hearts. 
 And be false with them. 
 
 Jach. Here are letters for yon. 
 
 Post. Their tenor good, I trust. 
 
 lach. 'Tis very like. 
 
 Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court. 
 When you were there ? 
 
 lach. He was expected then, 
 
 But not approach'd. 
 
 Post. All is well yet.^ 
 
 Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not, 
 Too dull for your good wearing? 
 
 lack. If I have lost it, 
 
 I should have lost the worth of it in gold. 
 I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy 
 A second night of such sweet shortness, which 
 Was mine in Britain : for the ring is won. 
 
 Post. The stone's too hard to come bv. 
 
 lach. Not a whit. 
 
 Your lady being so easy. 
 
 Post. Make not, sir. 
 
 Your loss your sport : I hope, you know, that we 
 Must not continue friends. 
 
 lach. Good sir, we must. 
 
 If you keep covenant: H'ad I not brought 
 Fiie knowledge of your mistress home, I grant 
 
 We were to question further : but I now 
 Profess myself tiie winner of her honour, 
 Together with your ring; and not the wronger 
 Other, or you, having (.roceeded but 
 By both your wills. 
 
 Post. If you can make't apparent 
 
 That you have tasted her in bed, my hand 
 And ring is yours: If not, the foul opinion 
 You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, 
 ^'our sword, or mine ; or masteiless leaves both 
 To who shall liud them. 
 
 lach. Sir, my circumstances. 
 
 Being so near the truth, as I will make them, 
 Must first induce you to believe : whose strength 
 I vvill confirm with oath ; which, 1 doubt not. 
 You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find 
 You need it not. 
 Post. Proceed. 
 
 lach. First, her bed-chamber, 
 
 (Where, I confess, I slept not; but, profess, 
 Had that was well worth watching,) It was hang'd 
 With tapestry of silk and silver; the story 
 Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman 
 And Cydnus swell'd abo\e the banks, or for 
 The press of boats, or jride : A piece of work 
 So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
 In workmanship, and \alue; which, I vvonder'd 
 Could be so rarely and exactly wrought. 
 Since the true lite on't was — 
 
 Post. This is true ; 
 
 And this you might have heard of here, by me. 
 Or by some other. 
 
 lach. More particulars 
 
 Must justify ray knowledge. 
 
 Post. So they must. 
 
 Or do your honour injury. 
 
 lach. The chimney 
 
 Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece 
 Chaste Dian, bathing : never saw I tigures 
 So likely to report themselves; the cutter 
 Was as anotiier nature, dumb; outwent her, 
 Motion and breath left out. 
 
 Post. This is a thing, 
 
 Which you might from relation likewise reap; 
 Being, as it is, much spoke of. 
 
 lach. The roof o'the chamber 
 
 With golden cherubimsis fretted: Her andirons 
 (I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids 
 Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 
 Depending on their brands. 
 
 Post. This is her honour ! — 
 
 Let it be granted, you have seen all this, (and praise 
 Be given to your remembrance,) the description 
 Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves 
 The wager you have laid. 
 lach. Then, if you can, 
 
 (Pulling out the bracelet,) 
 Be pale ; I beg but leave to air this jewel : See !— 
 And now 'tis up again ; It must be married 
 To that your diamond ; I'll keep them. 
 
 Post. Jovej- 
 
 Once more let me behold it: Is it that 
 Which I left with her ? 
 
 lack. Sir, (I thiink her,) that: 
 
 She stripp'd it from her arm; 1 see her yet; 
 Her pretty action did outsell her gift, 
 And yet enrich'd it too : She gave it me, and said. 
 She priz'd it once. 
 
 Post. May be, she pluck'd it off. 
 
 To send it me. ., , . . a 
 
 lach. She writes so to you ? doth she i 
 
 Post. O, no, no, no; 'tis true. Here, take this too: 
 
 {Gives the ring.) 
 
 It is a basilisk unto mine eye. 
 
 Kills me to look on't:— Let there be no honour. 
 
 Where there is beauty ; truth, where semblance ; 
 
 love, 
 Where there's another man : The vows of women. 
 Of no more bondage be, to where they are made. 
 Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing :— 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 639 
 
 O, above measure false ' 
 
 Phi. Have patience, sir, 
 
 And take your rinff again ; 'tis not yet won : 
 It may be probable, she lost it; or, 
 Wlio knows, if one of her women, being corrupted, 
 Hath stolen it from her? 
 
 Post. Very trne ; 
 
 And so, [ hope, he came by't; — Back my ring; — 
 Render to me some corporal sign about her. 
 More evident than this ; Utr this was stolen. 
 
 lack. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. 
 
 Post. Hark you, he swears ; by Jupiter he swears. 
 *Tis true ; — nay, keep the ring — 'tis true : 1 am sure, 
 She would not lose it: her attendants are 
 All sworn, and honourable : — They induc'd to steal 
 
 it! 
 And by a stranger ! — No, he hath enjoy'd her : 
 The cognisance of her incontinency 
 Is this, — she hath bought the name of whore thus 
 
 dearly. — 
 There, take thy hire ; and all the fiends of hell 
 Divide themselves between you! 
 
 Phi. Sir, be patient ! 
 
 Tiiis is not strong enough to be believ'd 
 Of one persuaded well of — 
 
 Post. Never talk on't ; 
 
 Slie hath been colted by him. 
 
 lack. If you seek 
 
 For further satisfying, under her breast 
 (Worthy the pressing,^ lies a mole, right proud 
 Of that most delicate lodging: By my life, 
 I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger 
 " To feed again, though full. You do remember 
 This stain upon her? 
 
 Post. Ay, and it doth confirm 
 
 Another stain, as big as hell can hold, 
 Were there no more but it. 
 
 lack. Will yon hear more ? 
 
 Post. Spare your arithmetic: never count the 
 Once, and a milliou ! [turns ; 
 
 lach. I'll be sworn, — 
 
 Post. No swearing. 
 
 If you will swear you have not done't, you lie ; 
 And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
 Thou hast made me cuckold. 
 
 Inch. I will deny nothing. 
 
 Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal ! 
 I will go there, and do't; i'the court; before 
 Her father: — I'll do something — [Exit. 
 
 Phi. Quite besides 
 
 The government of patience ! — You liave won : 
 Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath 
 He hath against himself. 
 
 lack. VVith all my heart. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. Another Rootn in the same. 
 Enter PosTHOMUS. 
 Post. Is there no way for men to be, but women 
 Must be half-workers ? We are bastards all ; 
 And that most venerable man, which I 
 Did call my father, was I know not where 
 When I was stamp'd ; some coiner with his tools 
 Made me a counterfeit: Yet my mother seem'd 
 The Dian of that time : so doth my wife 
 The nonpareil of this. — O vengeance, vengeance! 
 Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd. 
 And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with 
 A prudeiicy so rosy, the sweet view on't [her 
 
 Might well have warm'd old Saturn ; that 1 thought 
 As chrtste as unsunn'd snow : — O, ail the devils ! — 
 This yellow lachimo, in an hour, — was't not? — 
 Or less, — at first: Perchance he spoke not; but. 
 Like a full acom'd boar, a German one, 
 Cry'd Oh ! and mounted : found no opposition 
 But what he look'd for should oppose, and she 
 Should from encounter guard. Could I find out 
 The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion, 
 That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
 It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it. 
 The vvuiiian's; flatttring, hers; deceiving, hers; 
 
 Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers ; revenge*, here- 
 Ambitious, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
 Nice longings, slai.ders, mutability, 
 .411 faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows. 
 Why, hers, in part, or all; but rather, all: 
 For even to vice 
 
 They are not constant, but are changing still 
 One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
 Not half so old as that. I'll write against them. 
 Detest them, curse them : — Yet 'tis greater ssiii 
 In a true hate, to pray they have their will : 
 The very devils cannot plague them better. [E.riL 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Britain. A Boom of State in Cymbe- 
 
 line's Palace. 
 Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, and Lords, at 
 
 one door; and at another, Caius Lucius and 
 
 Attendants. 
 
 Cym. Now, say, what would Augustus Cajsar 
 with us? 
 
 Luc. When Julius Caesar (whose remembrance yet 
 Lives in men's eyes; aud will to ears, and tongues, 
 Be theme, and hearing ever,) was in this Britain, 
 And conqiier'd it, Cassibelafi, thine uncle, 
 (Famous in Cwsar's praises, no whit less 
 Than in his feats deserving it,) for him. 
 And his succession, granted Home a tribute. 
 Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee lately 
 Is left untender'd. 
 
 Queen, And, to kill the marvel, 
 
 Shall be so ever. 
 
 Clo. There be many Caesars, 
 
 Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
 A world by itself; and we will nothing pay. 
 For wearing our own noses. 
 
 Qiieen. That opportunity. 
 
 Which then they had to take from us, to resume 
 We have again. — Remember, sir, my liege. 
 The kings your ancestors ; togetlier with 
 The natural bravery of your isle; which stands 
 As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in 
 With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; 
 With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats. 
 But suck them up to the top mast. A kind of conquest 
 Caesar made here ; but made not here his brag 
 Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame 
 (The first that ever touch'd him,) he was carried 
 From off our coast, twice beaten ; and his shipping, 
 (Poor ignorant baubles I) on our terrible seas. 
 Like egg-shells mov'd upcn their surges, crack'd 
 As easily 'eaii st our rocks: For joy whereof. 
 The fam'd Gassibelan, who was once at point, 
 (O, giglot fortune !) to master Cassar's sword, 
 Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright. 
 And Britons strut with courage. 
 
 CVo. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: 
 Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time ; 
 and, as I said, there is no more such C*sars : 
 other of them may have crooked noses ; but, to owe 
 such straight arms, none. 
 
 (lym. Son, let your mother end. 
 
 Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe as 
 hard as Cassibelati : I do not say, I am one ; but 
 I have a hand. — Why tribute ? why should we pay 
 tribute? IfCa;sar can hide the sun from us with 
 a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will 
 pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tri- 
 bute, pray you now. 
 
 Cym. You must know, 
 Till the injurious Romans did extort [bition 
 
 This tribute from us, we were free : Caesar's ain- 
 (Which swell'd so much, that it did almost stretch 
 Tiie sides o'the world,) against all colour, here 
 Did put the yoke upon us ; which to shake off, 
 Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon 
 Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar, 
 Our ancestor was that Mulrautius, which 
 Ordain'd our laws ; (whose use the sword of Caesar 
 
6i0 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 X\CT III. 
 
 tiath too much mangled; whose repair and fran- 
 chise, 
 Shall, by tlie {>o\ver we hold, be onr good deed, 
 Tliougli Rome be therefore anory ;) iVIiiliiiutius, 
 Who was the first of Britain, wliich did put 
 His brows within a golden crown, and cuU'd 
 Hinisell a king. 
 
 • Luc. I am sorry, Cymbeline, 
 
 That I am to pronounce Augustus Caisar 
 (Caesar, tliat hath more kings his servants, than 
 Thyself domestic oflicers,) thine enemy: 
 Receive it from me, then : — War, a.nd confusion, 
 In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee ; look 
 For fiuy not to be resisted : — Tlius defied, 
 I thank thee for myself. 
 
 Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. 
 
 ThyCiiesar knighted me: niy youth I spent 
 Much under him; of him 1 gatlier'd honour; 
 Which he, to seek of me again, perforce. 
 Behoves me keep at utterance; 1 am perfect, 
 That the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for 
 Tiieir liberties, are now in arms : a precedent 
 Which, not to read, whonld shew the Britons cold: 
 So Cfesar shall not find tiiem. 
 
 Luc. Let proof speak. 
 
 Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pas- 
 time w'tb ns a day, or two, longer: If you seek ns 
 afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our 
 salt water girdle : if you beat us out of it, it is yours ; 
 if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall lare the 
 better fur you ; and there's an end. 
 
 Liic. So, sir. 
 
 Cym. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine : 
 A.11 the remain is, welcome. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II, — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Pisanio. 
 Pis. How !*f adultery ? Wherefore write you not 
 What monster's her accuser? — Leonatus ! 
 O, master! what a strange infection 
 Is falli'n into thy ear? What false Italian 
 (As poisonous tongu'd. as handed,) hath prevail'd 
 On thy too ready hearing''' — Disloyal i No: 
 She's p'lnish'd for her truth ; and undergoes. 
 More goddess like than wife-like, such assaults 
 As would take in some virtue : — O, my master! 
 Thy mind to her is now as low, as were 
 Thy fortunes. — How! that I should murder her? 
 Upon the love, and truth, and vows which I 
 Have made to thy command ";' — I, her? — her blood ? 
 If it be so to do good service, never 
 Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, 
 That I shoidd seem to lack humanity. 
 So much as this fact comes to? Do't: The letter 
 
 {Reading.) 
 That I have sent her, hy her ttvti command 
 Shall give thee opportunity: — O damn'd paper? 
 Black as the ink tliat's on thee ! Senseless bauble ! 
 Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st 
 So virgin-like without ? Lo, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Imogen. 
 
 I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 
 
 Imo. How now, Pisanio ? 
 
 Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. 
 
 Imo. Who ? thy lord ? that is my lord ? Leonatus ? 
 O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer. 
 That knew the stars, as I bis characters; 
 He'd lay the future open. — You good gods. 
 Let what is here contain'd relish of love, 
 Of my lord's health, of his content, — yet not. 
 That we two are asunder, let ti-at grieve him, — 
 (Some griefs are med'cinable ;) that is one of them, 
 For it doth physic love ^ — of his content, 
 AJi but in that ! — Good wax, thy leave : — Bless'd be 
 Von bees, that make these locks of counsel ! Lovers, 
 And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike ; 
 
 Tiiongh forfeiters you cast in prison, vet 
 Vou clasp young Cuuid's tables.— Good D 
 
 Re-ade.) 
 
 I news, gods! 
 
 Justice, and your fa! her'' s wrath, i>houl.ihe take 
 me 171 his dominion, should not be so cruel to me, 
 as you, the deartsi oj' creatures, ivottldnu/ even 
 renew me witli your eyes. Take notice, that 1 am 
 in Cambria, at Milford-Haven : What your i>wn 
 love will, Old of this, admse yon, jollow. So. he 
 tv/shes yuu all liappiness, that remains loyal to 
 his vow, and your, increasing in love, 
 
 Leonatus PosTHUKrs. 
 O, for a horse witli wings ! — Hearst thou, Pisanir- ' 
 He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me 
 How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs 
 May plod it in a week, why may not I 
 Glide thitlier in a day'/ — Then, true Pisanio, 
 (Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord ; who long'st,— 
 O, let me 'bate, — but not like me: — yet long'st, — 
 But in a fainter kind : — O, not like me ; 
 For mine's beyond beyond.) say, and speak (hick, 
 (Love's counsellor should till the bores of hearing, 
 To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is 
 To this same blessed Milford : And, by the way, 
 Tell me how Wales was made so hajipy, as 
 To inherit such a haven : But, first of all, 
 How we may steal iVom hence ; and, for the g-ap 
 Tiiat we shall make in time, from our hence-going. 
 And our return, to excuse : — but first, liow get hence : 
 Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? 
 We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ytliee, speak, 
 How many score of miles may we well ride 
 'Twixt hour and hour. 
 
 Pis. One score, 'tvvixt sun and sun, 
 
 Madam, 's enough for you : and oo much too. 
 
 Imo. VV hy, one that rode to his execution, man. 
 Could never go so slow; I have heard of riding 
 
 wagers. 
 Where horses have been nimbler than (he sands 
 That run i'the clock's behalf; — But this is I'oolery : — 
 Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say 
 She'll home to her father ; and proxide me, presently, 
 A riding suit; no costlier than would lit 
 A franklin's housewife. 
 
 Pia. JMadam, you're best coiiylder 
 
 Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, noriiere. 
 Nor what ensues ; but have a fog in them, 
 'J'liat I cannot look through. Away, J pr'ythee 
 Do as I bid thee ; Tiiere's no more to say ; 
 Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Wales. A mountainous Country, ivith 
 a Cave. 
 
 J?«^er Belarius, Guiderius, wwc? Arviracl.s. 
 
 Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with su.'h 
 Whose roof's as low as ours I Stoop, boys : This gate 
 Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows 
 
 you 
 To morning's holy office : The gates of monarchs 
 Are arch'd so high, that giants may jet through 
 And keep their impious turbans on, without 
 Good-morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair heaven! 
 We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
 As prouder livers do. 
 
 Gui. Hail, heaven! 
 
 Arv, Hail, heaven 
 
 Bel. Now, for our mountain sport : Up to yon iiill 
 Your legs are young ; I'll tread these Hals. Consider 
 When you above perceive me like a crow, 
 That it is place which lessens, ami sets off. 
 And you may then revolve what tales I have told yon 
 Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
 This service is not service, so being done. 
 But being so allowed : To apjirehend thus, 
 Draws us a profit from all things we s?e : 
 And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
 1'he sharded beetle in a safer hold 
 Than is the fuU-wingd eagle. O, this life 
 Is nobler, than attending lor a check ; 
 Richer.lhan doing nothing for a babe ; 
 Prouder, than rustling in unpaid for silk : 
 Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine, 
 Yet keeps his book uncross'd : uo life to ours. 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 C!41 
 
 Gvi. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor nn- 
 lletlud, _ [not 
 
 Have never wiug'd from view o'the nest; nor know 
 What airs from lionie. Haply, this lile is best, 
 If quiet life be best: sweeter to you, 
 l'l);it have a sliarfier known ; well corresponding 
 With your stilf ane : but, unto ns, it is 
 A cell of ignorance ; travelling abed; 
 A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
 I'o stride a limit. 
 
 Arr. What should we speak of, 
 
 When we are old as you ? when we sliall hear 
 The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
 In this our pinching ca\e, shall we discourse 
 The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing: 
 We are beastly; subtile as the fox, for prey; 
 Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat; 
 Our valoin- is, to chase what flies ; our cage 
 We make a quire, as doth the prison'd biid, 
 And sing our bondage freely. 
 
 Bel. How you speak I 
 
 Did you but know the city's usuries. 
 And felt them knowingly: the art o the court. 
 As hard to leave, as keep ; whose top to climb 
 Is certain falling, or so slippery, that 
 The fear's as bad as falling : the toil of the war, 
 A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
 I'the name of fame, and honour; whicli dies i'lhe 
 And hath as oft a slanderous epitanh, [search ; 
 
 As record of fair act; ;iay, many times. 
 Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what's v/orse. 
 Must coiirt'sey at the censure: — O, boys, this story 
 The world may read in me : — IVly body's mark'd 
 With Roman swords ; and iiiv report was once 
 First with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd nie ; 
 And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
 Was not fir off: 'i'hen was 1 as a tree, 
 Whose boughs did bend witii ft nit : but, in one night, 
 A storm, or robbery, call it wh:it you will. 
 Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
 And left me bare to weather. 
 
 Gui. Uncertain favour ! 
 
 Bel. My (jjuU being nothing (as I have told you oft,) 
 But that two villains, whose false oatlis prevail'd 
 Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, 
 I was confederate with tlie Romans : so, 
 FoUow'd my banishment; and, this twenty years, 
 This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world ; 
 W^here I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid 
 More pious debts to hea\en, than in all 
 'i'he fore-end of my time. — But, up to the mountains ; 
 This is not hunters' language"; — He, that strikes 
 Thai venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast; 
 Tobini the other two shall mniister; 
 And we will fear no ppison, which attends 
 In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. 
 
 [Exeunt Gui. and Arv. 
 How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature I 
 These boys know little, they are sons to the king ; 
 Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
 They think, they are mine : and, though train'd up 
 
 thus meanly 
 I'the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
 The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them. 
 In .simple and low things, to prince it, nuich 
 Beyond the trick of others. 7'his Polydore, — 
 The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
 The king his lather called Guiderius. — Jove ! 
 When or, my three-foot stool I sit, and tell 
 The warlike leats I have done, his spirits fly out 
 Into my story : say, — T/ius mine enemy jell j 
 And thus I set my foot on his neck; even then 
 The princely blooiJ flows in hia cheek, he sweats, 
 Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in |)osture 
 That a.;ts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, 
 [Ouce, Arviragus, j in as like a figure. 
 Strikes life into my speech, and shews much more 
 His own conceiving. Hark ! the game is rous'd ! — 
 O Cymbeline ! heaven, and my conscience, knows, 
 Thou didst unjustly banish me ; wbereou. 
 
 At three, and two years old, -I stole these babes - 
 'J'hinking to bar thee of succession, as ' 
 
 Thou relt'st me of my lands. Euriphile, 
 Thou wast their nurse; they took the'e for fhjjr 
 
 niotlier, 
 -And every day do honour to her grave : 
 Myself. Belarius, that am Morgan call'd. 
 They t;ike for uatmal fither. 'J'he game is up. [Exit. 
 
 Scene lY.— Near Milford Haven. 
 Enter Pis.4Nio and Imogen. 
 Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, 
 the place 
 Was near at hand :-— Ne'er long'd my mother so 
 To see me first, as I have now;— Pisanio ! Man ! 
 Where is Posthuinus? What is in thy mind. 
 That makes thee stare thus V Wherefore breaks tJiaf 
 
 sigh 
 From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus. 
 Would be interpreted a thing nerplex'd 
 Beyond self explication : Put tliyself 
 Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness 
 Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? 
 Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with 
 A look untender? If it be summer news. 
 Smile to't before : if winterly, thou needst 
 But keep. that countenance still.— My husband'.s 
 
 hand ! 
 That drug-damn'd Italy hath out craftied him. 
 And he's at some hard point.— Speak, man.; t^: 
 
 tongue 
 May take off some extremity, which to read 
 Would be even mortal to me. 
 
 Pis. Please you, read, 
 
 And you sliall find me, wretched man, a thing 
 The most disdain'd of fortune. 
 
 Imo. {Reads.) Thy mistress, Pisanio. hath 
 played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies 
 ivhereofUe bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak 
 surmises; but from proof as strong as 7ny fjriff 
 and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part 
 thou. Pisanio, must act for me. if thy faith be nut 
 tainted ivith the breach of hers. Let thine own 
 hands take ajcay her life : I shall qive the nppor. 
 f unities at Milfurd-Haven ; she hath my letter fo r 
 the purpose : Where, if thou fear to strike, andio 
 make me certain it is done, thou art the pander 
 to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. 
 Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword '. the 
 paper 
 Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander, 
 Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongce 
 Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath 
 Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
 All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states 
 Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
 This viperous slander enters. — What cheer, madam? 
 
 Imo. False to his bed ! What is it, to be false ^ 
 To lie in watch there and to think on him? 
 To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge 
 
 nature. 
 To break it with a fearful dream of him, 
 And cry myself awake ? that's false to his bed. 
 Is it? 
 Pis. Ala.s, good lady! 
 
 Imo. 1 false ? Thy conscience witness : — lachimo, 
 Thou didst accuse him of incontinency ; 
 Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methiuks, 
 Thy favour's good enough. — Some jay of Italy, 
 Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him •, 
 Poor I am stale, a garment out of fiashion ; 
 .And, fur I am richer than to hang by the wal.'j, 
 1 must be ripp'd : — to pieces with me ! — O, 
 Men's vows are women s traitors ! All good seeming. 
 By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought 
 'Put on for villany ; not born, where't grows; 
 But worn, a bait for ladies. 
 Pis. Good madam, hear me.> 
 
 Imo. True honest men being heard, like fak^e 
 ilDueas, 
 
 41 
 
642 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Were, in his time, tlicuglit false: and Siiion's 
 
 vveeiiinn 
 Did scandal liiany a lioly tear; took pity 
 From most true wretclieduess : So, thou, Posthu- 
 
 inus, 
 Wilt lav the leaven on all proper men ; 
 Goodly,' and gallant, shall be false and perjtir'd, 
 From thy great fail. — Come, fellow, be thou honest ; 
 Do thou thy master's bidding : When thou see'st 
 
 him, 
 A little witness my obedience : Look! 
 I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit 
 The innocent mansion of my love, my heart : 
 Fear not ; 'tis enipty of all things, but giief: 
 Thy master is not there ; who was, indeed, 
 The riches of it : Do his bidding ; strike, 
 Thou raay'st be valiant in a better caus.~ : 
 But now thou seein'st a coward. 
 
 Pis. Hence, vile instrument! 
 
 Thou shalt not damn my hand. 
 
 Jmo. Why, I must die ; 
 
 And if I do not by thy band, thou art 
 No servant of thy master's: Against self-slaughter 
 There is a prohibition so divine, [lieart ; 
 
 That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my 
 Something's afore't :— Soft, soft; we'll no defence ; 
 Obedient as the scabb;ird. — What is here ? 
 The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, 
 All turn'd to heresy ? Away, away, 
 Coi.-upters of my faith ! you shall no more 
 Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools 
 Believe false teachers : Though those, that are be- 
 tray 'd, 
 Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
 Stands in worse case of woe. 
 And thou, Posthumiifl, thou tliat did'st set up 
 My disobedience 'gainst the king my father, 
 And make me put into contemi)t the suits 
 Of priocely fellows, shalt hereafter find 
 It is no act of common passage, but 
 A strain of rareness : and I grieve myself, 
 To think, wh«n thou shalt be disedg'd by her 
 That now thou tir'st on, how thy memory 
 Will then be paiig'd by me.— Pr'ythee, despatch : 
 The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy knife? 
 Thou art too slow to do thy master s bidding, 
 When I desire it too. 
 
 Pis. O gracious lady, 
 
 Since I receiv'd command to do this business, 
 I have not slept one wink. 
 
 I„io. Do't, and to bed then. 
 
 Pis. I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 
 Imo. Wherefore then 
 
 Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd 
 So many miles, with a pretence ? tliis place? 
 Minft action, and thine own V our horses' labour ? 
 The time inviting thee ? the perturb'd court. 
 For my being absent; whereunto I never 
 Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far. 
 To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand. 
 The electet^ deer before thee ? 
 
 Pis. But to win time 
 
 To lose so bad employment: in the which 
 I have consider'd of a course : Good lady. 
 Hear me with patience. 
 
 Imo. Talk thy tongue weary ; speak : 
 
 I have hear*!, I am a strumpet ; and mine ear, 
 ■J'herein false struck, can take no greater wound, 
 Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. 
 
 Pis. Then, madam, 
 
 I thought you would not back, again. 
 
 Imo.. Most like ; 
 
 Bringing me here to kill me. 
 
 Pis. Not so, neither! 
 
 But if I were as wise as honest, then 
 My imrpose would prove well. It cannot be, 
 But that tny master is abiis'd : 
 Some \illain, ay, and singular in his art, 
 Hath done yo» both this cursed injury. 
 Imo. Some Rouiao cuurtezan. 
 
 Pis. No, on my life. 
 
 I'll give but notice you are dead, and send liini 
 Some lil.iody sign of it ; lor 'tis commanded 
 I slKinld <lo so: Vou shall be iniss'd at court, 
 And that will svell confirm it. 
 
 Imo. Why, good fe/iow, 
 
 Wiialshall I dothewliile? Where bide? How live? 
 Or in my lile what comfort, when I am 
 Dead to my husband ;' 
 
 Pis. If you'll back to the coux\,— 
 
 l7no. No court, no iather ; nor no more ado 
 With that harsh, noble, SM-.ipie nothing; 
 Thiit Clotcn, whose love- suit hath been to me 
 As fearful as a siege. 
 
 Pis. ■ If not at court. 
 
 Then not in Britain must you bide. 
 
 Imo. Where then? 
 
 Hath Hr.itain all the sun that shines ? Day, night. 
 Are they not but in Britain? I'the world's volume 
 Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it ; 
 In a great pool, a swan's nest; Pr'ythee, think 
 There's livers out of Britain. 
 
 Pis. I am most glad 
 
 You think of other place. The embassador, 
 Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haveu 
 To-morrow : Now, if you could wear a mind 
 Dark as your fortune is ; and but disguise 
 That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be 
 But by self-danger; you should tread a course 
 Pretty, and full of view: yea, haply, near 
 'I'lie residence of Posthumus : so nigh, at least 
 That tiiough his actions were not visible, yet 
 Report should render him hourly to your ear. 
 As truly as he moves. 
 
 Imo. O, for such means ! 
 
 Though peril to my modesty, not deatii on't, 
 I would adventure. 
 
 Pis. Well, then, here's the point: 
 
 Vou must forget to be a woman ; change 
 Command into obedience ; fear, and nicenesis, 
 (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly. 
 Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage 
 Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and 
 As quarrellous as the weasel : nay, you must 
 Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek. 
 Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! 
 Alack, no remedy !) to the greedy touch 
 Of common kissing Titan ; and forget 
 Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
 You made great Juuo angry. 
 
 Imo. Nay, be brief: 
 
 I see into thy end, and am almost 
 A man already. 
 
 Pis. First, make yourself but like one. 
 
 Fore-thinking this, I have already fit, 
 ('Tis in my cloak- bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all 
 That answer to them : Would you, in their serving, 
 And with what imitation you can borrow 
 From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius 
 Present yourself, desire his service, tell him 
 Wherein you are happy, (which you'll make h'lm 
 
 know, 
 If that his head have ear in mnsic,) doubtless. 
 With joy he will embrace you ; for he's honourable. 
 And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroao 
 You have me, rich ; and I will never fail 
 Beginning, nor supplyment. 
 
 Imo. Thou art all the comfort 
 
 The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee away: 
 'J'liere's more to be consider'd ; but we'll even 
 All that good time will give us : This attempt 
 I'm soldier to. and will abide it with 
 A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. 
 
 Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell 
 Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of 
 Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress. 
 Here is a box : I had it from the queen ; 
 What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea. 
 Or stomach qualm'd at land, a dram of this 
 Will drive away distemper.— To some .snade, 
 
5CENE 5, 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 643 
 
 Am! fit yni! fo your manhood : — May the gods 
 Direct you to tlie h-est ! 
 Itno. Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene V. — A Room in CymhcUue's Palace. 
 
 Enter Cymecline, Qitep.n. Cloten, Lucius, and 
 
 Lords. 
 
 Cymb Tims far; and so farewell. 
 
 Litic. Tlianlcs, royal sir. 
 
 My emperor bafh wrote: I mii.st from hence; 
 And am rifjit sorry, that I must report ye 
 Aly master's enemy. 
 
 Cy}nb. Onr siibjec's, sir, 
 
 \\ ill not endure his yoke ; and for ourself 
 To shew less si/vereignty than they, must needs 
 Appear unkinglike. 
 
 litic. So, sir, I desire of you 
 
 A conduct over-land, to Millbrd-Haven. — 
 Madam, all joy befal yom- grace, and yon ! 
 
 Cyvi. My lords, you are appointed for that oflice ; 
 The due of honour in no point omit : — 
 So, farewell, noble Lucius. 
 
 Lvc. Your hand, my lord. 
 
 Clo. Receive it friendly : but from this time forth 
 I w ear it as your enemy. 
 
 Luc. Sir, the event 
 
 Is yet to name tlie winners Fare you well, [lords, 
 
 Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my 
 Till he have cross'd the Severn. — Happiness! 
 
 {Ex-unt Lucius and Lords. 
 
 Qrieen. Hp gop.s hence frowning: but it honours 
 That we ha\e given iiim cause. [us, 
 
 ^Clo. 'Tis all the better; 
 
 Your valiant Britons ha\e their wishes in it. 
 
 Cym. Lucius hath wrole already to the emperor 
 How it goes here. It lits us therefore, ripely, 
 0(n chariots and our horsemen be in readiness : 
 'i'he powers, that he already hath in (Jallia, 
 V\ il! soon be drawn to head, iVora whence he moves 
 His war fur Britain. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business ; 
 
 But must be look'd. to speedily, and strongly. 
 
 Cym. Our expectation, that it would be thus, 
 Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen. 
 Where is our daughter? She liath not appear'd 
 Before the Roman, nor to us hath tetidtr'd 
 The duty of the day : She looks us like 
 A thing more made of malice, than of duty : 
 We have noted it. — Ca'l her before us; fur 
 We have been too slight ia sufferance. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 Queen. Royal sir, 
 
 Shice the exile of Posthumiis, most retir'd 
 Hath her life been^ the cure whereof", my lord, 
 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech joijr majesty. 
 Forbear sharp speeches to her: She's a lady 
 So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes. 
 And strokes death to her. 
 
 Re-enter an Attendant. 
 
 Cym. \Vhere is she, sir ? How 
 
 Can her contempt be answer'd? 
 
 Atten. Please you, sir, , 
 
 tier chambers are all lock'd ; and there's no answer. 
 That will be given to the loud'st of noise we make. 
 
 Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit her. 
 She pray'd me to excus.e her keeping close ; 
 Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity. 
 She .shovild that duty leave unpaid to you, 
 Wliich daily she was bound to profler: this 
 . She viish'd me fo make known ; but our great court 
 Made me to blame in memory. 
 
 Cy.Ji. Her doors lock'd ? 
 
 Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that, which I fear, 
 Prove false ! . [Exit. 
 
 Queen. Son, T say, follaw the king. 
 
 C'/o. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, 
 I have not seen these two days. 
 
 Quepn, Go. look after. — [Exit Cloten. 
 
 Pisaoio. thon that stand'st so for PosthumusI — 
 
 He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence 
 
 Proceed by sualiowing that; lor he believes 
 
 It is a thing most |irecious. But lor her, 
 
 Where is she gone ? Haply, despair hath seiz'd her 
 
 Or, wing'd with f'er\oiir of lier love, she's flown 
 
 To her desir'd Posthumus : Gone she is 
 
 To death, or to dishonour; and my end 
 
 Can make good use of either : She being down, 
 
 I have the placing of the British crown. 
 
 Re-enter Cloten. 
 H.0W now, my son? 
 
 Clo. 'Tis certain, slie is fled ; 
 
 Go iu, and cheer the king; he rages; none 
 Dare come about him. 
 
 Queen. All the better: May 
 
 This night forestall Kim of the coining day ! [Exit. 
 
 Clo. I loxe, and hate her : for she's fair and royal; 
 And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite 
 Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one 
 The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, 
 Outsells them all : I love her, therefoie: But, 
 Disdaining me, and throwing favours on 
 1 he low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, 
 'i'hat what's else rare, is cliokd ; and, in that point, 
 I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed. 
 To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools 
 
 Enter Pisanio. 
 Shall — ^Vho is here ? What ! are you packing, 
 
 sirrah ? 
 Come hither: Ah, you precious pander ! Villain, 
 NVhere is thy lady "? In a w ord ; or else 
 Thou art straightway with the fiends. 
 
 Pis. O, good my lord ! 
 
 Clo. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter, 
 I will not ask again. Close villain, 
 I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
 'I'hy heart to find it. Is she with Poslliumns ? 
 From whose so many weights of baseness cannot 
 A dram of worth be drawn. 
 
 Pis. Alas, my lord, 
 
 How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? 
 He is in Rome. 
 
 Clo. Where is she, sir? Ceme nearer, 
 
 No further halting: satisfy me home. 
 What is iiecoine of her ? 
 
 Pis. O, my all-worthy lord! 
 
 Clo. _ All-worthy villaiaf 
 
 Dis(-over where thy mistress is, at once, 
 At the next word, — No more of worlhy lord,— 
 Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 
 Thy condemnation and thy death. 
 
 Pis. Then, sir, 
 
 This jiaper is (he history of my knowledge 
 Toucliing her flight. {Presenting a letter.) 
 
 Clo. Let's see't : — 1 « ill pursue he*' 
 
 Even to Augustus' throne. 
 
 Pis. Or this, or perish. J 
 
 She's far enough; and what he learns b\ f < • , 
 this 'Ustde. 
 
 May prove his travel, not her danger. J 
 
 Clo. Jju'iiph! 
 
 Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, 
 Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again ! [A^ide.) 
 
 Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true ? 
 
 Pis. Sir, as I think. 
 
 Clu, It is Posthumus' hand ; I know't. — Sirrah, 
 if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true 
 service; undergo those employments, wherein I 
 should have cause to use thee, with a serious indus- 
 try, — that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to 
 perfonn it, directly and truly, — I would think tiiee 
 an honest man: thou shoiild'st neither want my 
 means for thy relief', nor my voice for thy preferment 
 
 Pis. Weil, my good lord. 
 
 Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For, since patiently 
 and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune 
 of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the 
 course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower ot 
 mine. Wilt thou serve me ? 
 
644 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 Pis. Sir, 1 will. 
 
 do. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast 
 any of thy late master's sarments in thy possession "'' 
 
 Pis. 1 have, my lord, at my lodging, tiie same 
 suit he wore, when he took, leave ot my lady and 
 mistress. 
 
 C/u. 'J'he first service thou dost me, fetch that 
 suit hither : let it he tiiy first service ; go. 
 
 Pis I shall, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven :— I forgot to 
 ask iiim one thing; I'll reriiember't anon :— Even 
 there, tiiou villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee.— 
 I would, these giirments were come. She said 
 upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from 
 my heart,) tliatshe held the very garment of Po^thii- 
 nms in more respect than my noble and natural 
 person, together with the adornment of my qualities. 
 With tlmt suit upon my back, will 1 ravish her: 
 First kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see 
 my valour, which will then be a torment to her con- 
 tempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment 
 ended on his dead body, — and when my lust hath 
 dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute 
 in the clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll 
 knock her back, foot her home again. She hath 
 despis'd me rejoicingly, and 1 11 be merry in my 
 revenge. 
 
 Re-enter Pisanio, with the clothes. 
 
 Be tliose the garments? 
 
 Pin. Ay, my noble lord. [Haven? 
 
 Ch). How long is't since she went to Milford- 
 
 Pis. She can scarce be there yet. 
 
 Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber ; that is 
 the second tiling that 1 have commanded thee : the 
 third is, th.it tliou shall be a voluntary mute to my 
 desii;n. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall 
 tender itsellto tiiee. — My revenge is now at Milford ; 
 'Would 1 had wings to follow it! — Come, and be 
 true. [Exit. 
 
 Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss : for, true to 
 thee, 
 Were to prove false, which I will never be. 
 To hini that is most true. To Milford go, 
 And find not her. w horn thou pursu'st. Flow, flow. 
 You heavenly biessi.igs, on her! This fool's speed 
 Be cross'd with slowness; labour be hi.s meed! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene VI. — Before the Cave of Belarius. 
 
 Enter Imogen, in boy's clothes. 
 
 Into. I see, a man's life is a tedious one : 
 I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together 
 Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
 But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
 When t'roui the momitain top Pisanio shew'd thee, 
 Tiiou wast witiiiii a ken : O Jove I 1 think. 
 Foundations fly the wretched ; such, 1 mean. 
 Where they should be relieV'd. Two beggars 
 
 t )ld me, 
 I could not miss my way : Will poor folks lie. 
 That haveSiliiictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
 A punisiiment, or t;.ial ? Yes; no wonder, 
 
 Vhen rich ones scarce tell true ; To lapss in ful- 
 ness 
 
 s sorer, than to lie for need ; and falsehood 
 Is worse in kings, than beggars. — My dear lord ! 
 Thou art one o'tiie false ones : Now 1 think on thee, 
 My hunger's gone ; but even bel'ore, I was 
 At point to sink for food. — But what is this? 
 Here is a ))ath to it: "Tis some savage hold : 
 
 I were best not call; I dare not call ; yet fiinine, 
 t'.re clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it \aliaut. 
 Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever 
 Ol liBi diiif S3 is niothir. — Ho ! who's here ? 
 
 II a4iy Uiin;;. that s civil, spi-ak ; ifsavage. 
 
 Take, or lend. — Uo' — No answer? tlien I'll enter. 
 Best dravv my sword, and if mine enemy 
 But fear tile sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. 
 Such a foe, good heavens ! I^She goes into the Cave.'' 
 
 Enter Bevarius, Guidekics, ««</ Arviraccs. 
 Bel. Yon, Polydore, have [irov'd best woodman, 
 and 
 Are master of the feast : Cadwal, and I, 
 Will play the c.:K)k and servant; 'tis our match': 
 The sweat ol'iiulustry would dry, and die, 
 But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs 
 Will make what's homely, savoury: Weariness 
 Can snore ujion the flint, when restive sloth 
 Finds the down jiillow hard. — Now, peace be here. 
 Poor house, that keep'st thyself! 
 
 Gui. 1 am thoroughly we.-'iy. 
 
 Arv. I am weak wifli toil, yet strong in appeiite. 
 Gui. There is cold meat i'tlie cave ; we'll browze 
 on that, 
 Whilst what we have kill'd be cook d. 
 j Bel. Stay; come not in : ( A/»o//;/^ /';/ , 
 
 I But that it eats our victuals, I should think 
 Here \vere a fairy. 
 
 Gui. What's the matter, sir? 
 
 Bel. By Jupiter, an angel I or, if not. 
 An earthly paragon! — Behold divineness 
 No elder than a boy ! 
 
 Enter I.VOCEN. 
 
 Imo. Good masters, harm me not : 
 Before I enter'd here, I call'd ; and thought 
 To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took : Good 
 
 troth, 
 I have stolen nonglit ; nor would not, though I had 
 found [meat : 
 
 Gold strew'd o'the floor. Here's money for my 
 I would have left it on the board, so soon 
 As I had made my meal; and parted 
 With prayers for the prov ider. 
 
 Gui. Money, youth ? 
 
 Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt ! 
 As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
 Who worship dirty gods, 
 
 Inw. I see, you are angry : 
 
 Know, if yon kill me for my fault, I should 
 Have died, had I not made it. 
 
 Bel. Whither bound? 
 
 Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir. 
 
 Bel. What is your name ? 
 
 Imo. Fidele, sir : 1 have a kinsman, who 
 Is bound for Italy; he embaik'd at Milford; 
 To whom bein_g going, almost spent w ith hunger, 
 I am fall'n in this otVeuce. 
 
 Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth. 
 
 Think us no churls; nor measure our good minds 
 By this rude place we live in. Well encouuter'd' 
 ' I'ls almost night: you shall have better cheer, 
 Ere yon depart; and thanks, to stay and eat it. — 
 Boys, bid him welcome. 
 
 Gui. Were yon a woman, youth, 
 
 I shoidd woo hard, but be your groom. — In honesty, 
 I bid ibr you, as I'd buy. 
 
 Arv. I II iiiake't my comfort, 
 
 He is a m:\n; I'll love him as my brother : — 
 And such a welcome as I'd give to him. 
 Alter long absence, such as yours: — Jlost wel- 
 come I 
 Be sprightly, for you full 'inongst friends. 
 
 Imo. "Mongst frieiuls! 
 
 If brothers ? — Would it had been .so, that \ 
 they [prize J 
 
 Had been my fdher's sons? then had my > i.sitle. 
 Been less: and so more eipial ballasting i 
 To thee, Posthuiuus. / 
 
 Btl. He wrings at some distrcsji. 
 
 Gui. 'Would, I could free't ! • 
 
 Arv. Or I ; whafe'er it be, 
 
 What pain it cost, what danger! Goils! 
 
 Bel. Hark, boys. (Whispering.)- 
 
 Imo. Great men. 
 That had a court no bigger than this cave, 
 'I'hat did attend themselve.s, and had the virtue 
 Which their own coiiscience scal'd them, (la)injf by 
 I'hat nothing gift of diU'erijig mullituiies,y 
 
Act IV. Scene 2. 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 645 
 
 Could not out pter these twain. Parclon me, gods ! 
 I'd chany-e niy sex to be companion with them. 
 Since Leonatiis' false. 
 
 Bel. It shall be so : 
 
 Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. — Fair youth, come in : 
 Dis'c<uirse is heavy, fasting ; when we have supp'd, 
 We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
 So far as thou wilt speak it. 
 
 Gwi. Pray, draw near. . 
 
 Arv. The night to the owl, and morn to the lark, 
 less welcome. 
 
 lino. Thanks, sir. 
 
 Arv. I pr»y> draw near. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Nil.— Rome. 
 Enter two Senators and Tribunes. 
 
 1 Sen. This is the tenour of the emperor's writ ; 
 That since the common men are now in action 
 'Gainst the Pannoniaus and Dalmatians ; 
 And that the legions now in Gallia are 
 Full weak to undertake our wars against 
 'I'he fairn-ott" Britons ; that we do incite 
 The gentry to this business : He creates 
 Lucius proconsul : and to you tlie tribunes. 
 For this immediate levy, lie commands 
 His absolute commission. Long live Cassar! 
 
 Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces? 
 
 y Sen, ... Ay. 
 
 Tri. Remaiaing now in Gallia ? 
 
 1 Sen. With those legions 
 
 Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
 Must be supplyaiit : The words of your commission 
 Will tie you to the numbers, and the time 
 Of their despatch. 
 
 Tri. We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene L — The Forest, near the Cave. 
 
 Enter Cloten. 
 
 Clo. I am near to tlie place where they should 
 meet, if Pisiinio have mapped it truly. How fit 
 his ga;nients serve me! Why shoidd his mistress, 
 who was made by him that made the tailor, not be 
 fit too"' the ratlier (saving reverence of the word) 
 for 'tis said, a woman's fitness comes by fits. 
 Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it 
 to myself, (for it is not vain glory, for a man and 
 his glass to confer; in his own clianiber, I mean,) 
 the lines of my body are as well drawn as his ; 
 no less young, more strong, not beneath him in 
 fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, 
 above him in birth, alike conversant in general 
 serxices, and more remarkable in single oppositions: 
 yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my des- 
 pite. What mortality is! Posflinmus, thy head, 
 which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall 
 within this houi be ofiF; (hy mi.stress enforced : 
 thy garments cut to pieces before thy face; and all 
 this done, spurn her home toiler fetlier : who may, 
 haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage : 
 but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall 
 turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied 
 up safe : Out, sword, and to a .sore purpose ! For- 
 tune, put them into my hand ! This is the very 
 description of their meeting-place; and the ffllow 
 dares not deceive me. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Before the Cave. 
 
 Enter, from the Cave, 13el.\ri(JS, Guiderius, 
 A«viR.iOUS, and Imogen. 
 
 Be/. Yon are not well : [To Imogen) remain here 
 in the cave: 
 We'll come to you after hunting. 
 
 Arv. Biother, stay here : [To Imogen.) 
 
 Are we not brothers ? 
 
 Imo. So man and man .should be ; 
 
 Hut chy and clay dili'ers in dignity. 
 Whose dust is both alike. I am \pry sick. 
 
 Gui. Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him. 
 
 Imo. So sick I am not;— yet I am not well : 
 But nut so citizen a wanton, as 
 To seem to die, ere sick : So please yoa, leave rao 
 Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom 
 Is breach of all. I am ill ; but your being by me 
 Cannot amend me : Society is no comfort 
 To one not sociable : I'm not very sick. 
 Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here ^ 
 I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, 
 Stealing so poorly. 
 
 Gui. I love thee ; I have spoke it 
 
 How much 'the quantity, the weight as much, 
 As I do love my father. 
 
 Bel. What? how? how? 
 
 Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 
 In my good brother's fault : I know not why 
 I love this youth; and I have heard \ou say, 
 Love's reason's without rea.son ; the bier at door 
 And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, 
 My father, not this youth. 
 
 Bel. O noble strain ! (Aside.) 
 
 worthiness of nature! breed of greatness I 
 Cowards father cowards, and base tilings sire base : 
 Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace, 
 
 1 am not their father; yet who this should be. 
 Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me. — 
 
 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. 
 
 Arv. Brother, farewell. 
 
 Imo. I wish you sport. 
 
 Arv. You health. — So please you, sir. 
 
 Imo. [Aside.) These are kind creatures. Gods, 
 what lies I have heard ! 
 Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court : 
 Experience, O, thou disurov'st report! 
 The imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish. 
 Poor tributary rivers as sweet fisL 
 I am sick still; heart sick: — Pisanio, 
 I'll now taste of thy drug. 
 
 Gui. I could not stir him : 
 
 He said, he was gentle, but unfortunate ; 
 Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. 
 
 Arv. Thus did he answer me : yet said, hereafter 
 I might know more. • 
 
 Bel. To the field, to the field :— 
 
 We'll leave you for this time; go in, and rest. 
 
 Arv. We'll not be long away. 
 
 Bel. Pray, be not sick, 
 
 For you must be our housewife. 
 
 Imo. Well, or ill, 
 
 I am bound to you. 
 
 Bel. And so shall he ever. [Exit Imogen. 
 
 This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears he hath had 
 Good ancestors. 
 
 Arv. How angel-like he sings? 
 
 Gui. But his neat cookery ! He cut our roots 
 in characters; 
 And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick, 
 And he her dieter. 
 
 Arv. Nobly he yokes 
 
 •\ smiling with a sigh : as if the sigh 
 VV^as that it was, for not being such a smile ; 
 The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 
 From so divine a temple, to commix 
 With winds, that sailors rail at. 
 
 Gui. I do note. 
 
 That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 
 Mingle their spi;rs together. 
 
 Arv. Grow, patience ! 
 
 And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
 His perishing root, with the increasing vine ! 
 
 Bel. It is great morning. Come ; away. — Who's 
 there? 
 
 Enter Cloten 
 
 Clo. I cannot find (hose runagates; that villailt 
 Hath niock'd uie : — I am faint. 
 
 Bel. Those runagntes ! 
 
 Means he not us? I partly know him ; 'tis 
 Cloten. the son o'the queen. I fear some ambuah, 
 I saw him not thc^e many years, and yet 
 
646 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act W 
 
 I kjiow 'tis he : — W'e are held as outlaws : — 
 Hence. 
 
 Gui. He is but one : You and my brother search 
 What companies are near : pray yon, away ; 
 Let me aloue with him. [Exeunt Bel. and Arv. 
 
 do. Soft; what are you 
 
 That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? 
 I have heard of such. — What slave art thou? 
 
 (hii. A thing 
 
 More slavish did I ne'er, than answering 
 A slave, without a knock. 
 
 C'/o. Thou art a robber, 
 
 A law breaker, a villain: — Yield thee, thief. 
 
 Gui. Tow'no? to thee? What art thou? Have 
 not I 
 An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? 
 Vhy words, I grant, are bigger ; for I wear not 
 f.ly dagger in my mouth. Say, what thou art; 
 Why I should yield to thee ? 
 
 Clu. Thou villain base, 
 
 Know'st rae not by my clothes ? 
 
 Gut. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, 
 
 Who is thy grandfather : he made those clothes; 
 Which, as it seems, make thee ? 
 
 C/o. Thou precious varlet, 
 
 My tailor made them not. 
 
 Gui. Hence then, and thank 
 
 The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool ; 
 I am loath to beat thee. 
 
 CIo. Tlion injurious thief. 
 
 Hear but n;y name, and tremble. 
 
 Gui. What's thy name? 
 
 (Jlo. Clolen, thou villain. 
 
 Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, 
 I cannot tremble at it ; were't toad, or adder, spider, 
 'Twould move me sooner. 
 
 Clo. To thy further fear. 
 
 Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 
 I'm son to (he queen. 
 
 Gui. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming 
 
 So worthy as thy birth. 
 
 Clo. Art not afeard ? [wise : 
 
 Gtti. ThoBe that I reverence, those I fear ; the 
 At fools I laugh, not fear them. 
 
 Cio. ' Die the death: 
 
 When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 
 I'll follow those that even now fled hence, 
 And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads: 
 i'ield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt fifjJiting. 
 
 Enter liELARius and Arviragus. 
 
 jBe/. No company's abroad. [sure. 
 
 Arv. None in the world: You did n>i.s(ake him, 
 
 Bel. 1 cannot tell : Long is it since I saw him, 
 But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour. 
 Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice, 
 And burst of speaking, were as hi.s : I am absolute, 
 Tvvas very Cloten. 
 
 Arv. In this place we left them : 
 
 I wish my brotlier make good time with him, 
 You say he is so fell. 
 
 Bel. Being scarce made up, 
 
 I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
 Of roaring terrors ; for the effect oi judgment 
 Is oft the cause of fear : But see, thy brother. 
 
 Re-enter Guiderius, with Cloten's head. 
 
 Gui. This Cloten was a fool ; an empty purse. 
 There was no money in"t : not Hercules 
 Could ha\e knock'd out his brains, for he had iioue : 
 "V et I not doing this, the fool had borne 
 My head, as I do his. 
 
 Bel. ^ What hast thou done ? 
 
 Chii. I am perfect, what : cut oif one Cloten's head. 
 Son to the qoeen, after his own report ; 
 Who cali'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore, 
 With his owTi sinsrle hand he'd take us in, 
 Disulace our heads, where (thank the gods!) they 
 And set them on Lud's town. Urow 
 
 ^«^- We are all undone! 
 
 Gni, Wliy, worthy father, what have we to )r«"» 
 But, tiint he swore, to take onr lives? The l:ivv 
 Protects not us: Then why should we be iKpaet. 
 'J'o let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ; 
 Play judge, and executioner, all himself; 
 For we do fear the law ? What company 
 Discover you abroad ? 
 
 Bel. No single soul 
 
 Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason. 
 He must have some attendants. Though his humour 
 Was nothing but mutation ; ay, and that 
 From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not 
 Absolute madness could so far have rav'd. 
 To bring him here alone : Although, perhapo 
 It may be heard at court, that such as we 
 Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and time 
 May make some stronger head : the which he hearing, 
 (As it is like him,) might break out, and swear 
 He'd fetch us in ; yet is't not probable 
 To come alone, either he so undertaking, 
 Or they so suffering : then on good ground we fear 
 If we do liear this body hath a tail 
 More perilous tlian the head. 
 
 Arv. Let ordinance 
 
 Come as the gods foresay it : howso'er, 
 My brother hath done well. 
 
 Bel. I had no mind 
 
 To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness 
 Did make my way long fortli. 
 
 Gui. With his own sword. 
 
 Which he did wave against my throat, 1 have ta'en 
 His head from him: I'll throw't intotlie cieek 
 Behind our rock ; and let it to the sea, 
 And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten. 
 That's all I reck. [Exit. 
 
 Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd : 
 
 'Would, Polydore, thou hadst not doue't ! thongj' 
 
 valour 
 Becomes thee well enough. 
 
 Arv. 'Would I had don't. 
 
 So the revenge alone pursued me ! — Polydore, 
 I love thee brotherly; but envy much, 
 Thou hast robb'd me of this deed : I would, revenges 
 That possible strength might meet, would seek us 
 And put us to our answer. [through, 
 
 Bel. Well, 'tis done :— 
 
 We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger 
 Where there's no profit. I pr'ytliee, to our rock ; 
 You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay 
 Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him 
 To dinner presently. 
 
 Arv. Poor sick Fidele ! 
 
 I'll willingly to him : To gain his colour, 
 I'd let a parish of such Clotens' blood. 
 And praise myself for charity. [Exif. 
 
 Bel. O thou goddess, 
 
 Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou biazon'st. 
 In these two princely boys I They are as gentle 
 As zephyrs, blowing below the violet. 
 Not wagging las sweet Itead : and yet as rough, 
 'J'heir royal blood eiichal''d, as the rud'st wind, 
 That by the top doth take the mountain pine. 
 And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful. 
 That an in\isible instiiii-t should frame them 
 To royalty uulearn'd ; honour untaught; 
 Civility not seen from other; vaTour, 
 That wildly grows in tliem, hut yields a cr&p 
 As if it had been sow'd I Yet still it's strange. 
 What Cloten's being here to us portends; 
 Or what his death will bring us. 
 
 Re-enter Guideriu.s. 
 
 Gui. Where's my brother ? 
 
 I have sent Cloten's clotpole down the stream, 
 lu embassy to his mother: liis body's hosiaj;e 
 For his return. {Solemn music] 
 
 Bel. My ingenious instrument! 
 
 Hark, Polydore, it sounds I But what occasion 
 Hath Ciidwal now to give it motion ! Hark ! 
 
 Gui, Is he at hoaie 'i* 
 
Scene 2, 
 
 CYMBELINE 
 
 647 
 
 Hfl. He went hence even now. 
 
 Gui. What does he mean '! since death of my 
 dear'st mother. 
 It did not S[)eak before. All solemn things 
 Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? 
 Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys. 
 Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys. 
 Is Cadwal mad f 
 
 Re enter Akviragus, bearing Imogen, as dead, in 
 his arms. 
 
 Bel. Look, here he comes. 
 
 And brings the dire occasion in his arms, 
 Of what we blame him for ! 
 
 Arv. The bird is dead. 
 
 That we have made so much on. I had rather 
 Have skipp'd from sixteeeu years of age to sixty, 
 To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, 
 Than have seen this. 
 
 Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily ! 
 
 My brother wears thee not the one half so well. 
 As when thou grew'st thyself. 
 
 Bel. O, melancholy ! 
 
 Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
 The ooze, to shew what coast thy sluggish care 
 Might easiliest harbour in? — Thou blessed thing! 
 Jove knows what man thou niight'st have made?but I, 
 Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! — 
 How found you him ? 
 
 Arv. Stark, as you see ; 
 
 Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, 
 Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek 
 Reposing on a cushion. 
 
 Gui. Where ? 
 
 Arv. O'the floor ; 
 
 His arms thus leagu'd : I thought, he slept; and put 
 My clouted brogues fromoft'my feet, whose rudeness 
 Answer'd my steps too loud. 
 
 Gui. Why, he but sleeps : 
 
 If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; 
 With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
 And worms will not come to thee. 
 
 Arv. With fairest flowers, 
 
 While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
 I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 
 The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
 The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
 The leaf of eglantine, w^lom not to slander, 
 Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, 
 With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming 
 Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
 Without a monument I) bring thee all this ; 
 Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when (lowers are none 
 To winter-grouu-d thy corse. 
 
 Gui. Pr'ythee, have done ; 
 
 And do not play in wench-like words with that 
 Which is so serious. Let us bury him. 
 And Dot protact with admiration what 
 Is now due debt. — To the gcave. 
 
 Arv. y^y, where shall's lay him '' 
 
 Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 
 
 Arv. Be't so ; 
 
 And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
 Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground 
 As once our mother ; use like note, and words. 
 Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 
 
 Gui. Cadwal, 
 I cannot sing ; I'll weep, and word it with thee : 
 For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
 Than priests and fanes that lie. 
 
 Arv. VVe'll speak it then. 
 
 Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for 
 Cloten 
 Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys : 
 And, thoiigii he came our enemy, remember 
 He was paid tor that : Though mean and mighty, 
 
 rotting 
 Toget'ner, have one dust ; yet reverence, 
 (That angel of the world.) doth make distinction 
 Of p. ace tueeii high and low. Our Ibe was princely; 
 
 And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
 Yet bury him as a prince. 
 
 Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither^ ■ 
 
 Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, 
 When neither are alive. 
 
 Arv, If you'll go fetch him. 
 
 We'll say our song the whilst — Brotherj bpgi>: 
 
 [Exit belarius. 
 
 Gi/2. Nay,Cadwal,weraustIayhishead totheeast, 
 My father hath a reason for't. 
 
 Arv. 'Tis true. 
 
 Gui. Come on then, and remove him. 
 
 Arv. So,— Beg!D 
 
 SONG. 
 Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun. 
 
 Nor the furious winter's rnrjes ; 
 Thou thy icordUj task hast done. 
 
 Home art (joiie. andta'en thy wagea: 
 Golden lads and girls all must 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 
 
 Arv. Fear no more the froivn <fthe great. 
 Thou art past the tyra?it's stroke; 
 
 Care no more to clotlie, and eat ; 
 
 To thee the reed is as the oak: " 
 
 The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
 
 All foUotv this, and come to dust. 
 
 Gui. Fear no more the light'niny flash, 
 Arv. Nor the all-dreaaed thunder-stone } 
 Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash: 
 Arv. Thou hast Jininh'djoy and 7noan : 
 Botii. All lovers young, all lovers must 
 Consign to thee, and come to dust. 
 
 Gui. No exorciser harm thee ! 
 Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
 Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee I 
 Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! 
 Bortb. Quiet consuimnation have ; 
 And renowned be thy grave! 
 
 Re-enter Bklarius, with the body of Cloten. 
 
 Gui. We have done our obsequies ; Come lay 
 
 him down. • [more : 
 
 Bel. Here's a few flowers ; but about miduisht, 
 
 The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the night, 
 
 Are strewings titt'st for graves. — Upon tiieir 
 
 faces : — 
 You were as flowers, now wither'd : even so 
 These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow. — 
 Come on, a<vay : apart upon your knees. 
 The ground, that gave them first, has them again: 
 Theii- pleasures here are past, so is their pain. 
 
 [Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. 
 Imo. (Awakimj.) Yes, sir, to Milford-HavMi ; 
 
 Which is the way?— [ther? 
 
 I thank you. — By you bush? — Pray, how far tlii- 
 'Ods pittikins!— can it be six miles yet? — 
 I base gone all night: — 'Faith, I'll lie down and 
 
 sleep. 
 But, soft! no bedfellow:— O, gods and goddesses ! 
 
 {Seeing the body.) 
 These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; 
 '('his bloody man the care on't. — 1 hope, 1 dream ; 
 For, so, I thought 1 was a cave-keeper, 
 Aiid cc.ok to honest creatures : But 'tis not so; 
 'Twas but a bolf of nothing, shot at nothing, 
 Wliich the brain makes of fumes : Our very eyes 
 Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good 
 
 faith, 
 I tremble still wiUi fear : But if there be , 
 
 Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
 As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! 
 The dream's here siill : even when 1 wake, it is 
 Without me, as with" n me ; not imngin'd, felt 
 A headless man ! — The garuients of Posthnna 
 I know the shape of bis leg: this is his hand ; 
 His foot Mercurial: his Martial thigh ; 
 'J'he brawns of Hercules : but his Jovial face — 
 
648 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Murder In heaven ? — How? — 'tis eone. — Pisanu), 
 All curses mndded Heciibii gave tlie Greeks, 
 And mine to boot, be dm ted on thee ! Thou, 
 Conspir'd with that irregnloiis devil, Cloten, 
 Hast here cut oft' my lord. — To write, and read, 
 Be hencefortli treacherous ! — Damn"d Pisanio 
 Hath with his forged letters —damn'd Pisanio — 
 From this most bravest vessel of the world 
 Struck the main top I—, O Posthumus ! alas, 
 Where is thy head ? where's that? Ah me ! where's 
 
 that? 
 Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, 
 And left this head on. — How should this be? Pisanio? 
 'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them 
 Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant ! 
 The drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious 
 And coruial to me, have I not found it 
 Murd'rous to the senses ? that confirms it home : 
 This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's! O ! — 
 Give colour to my pale cheek with tliy blood, 
 That we the horrider may speni to those 
 Which chance to find us : 0, my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and 
 a Soothsayer. 
 
 Cap-. To them, the legions ganison'd in Gallia, 
 After your will, have cross'd the sea ; attending 
 Vou here at Milford-Haven, with your ships : 
 They are here in readiness. 
 
 Luc. But what from Rome ? 
 
 Cap. The senate hath slirr'd up the confiners. 
 And gentlemen of Italy ; most willing spirits, 
 'I'hat promise noble service ; and they come 
 Under the conduct of bold lachimo, 
 Sienna's brotJier. 
 
 Ituc. When expect you them? 
 
 Cap. With the next benefit o'the wind. 
 
 Luc. This forwardness 
 
 Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers 
 Be muster'd ; Did the captains look to't. — Now, sir. 
 What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's pur- 
 pose ■' [vision : 
 
 Sooth. Last night the very gods shew'd me a 
 (I fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence.) Thus : — 
 I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd 
 From the spungy south to this part of the west, 
 There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends, 
 (Unless my sins abuse my divination,) 
 buccess to the Roman host. 
 
 Ltcc. Dream often so. 
 
 And never false. — Soft, ho ! what trunk is here. 
 Without his top? The ruin si)enks, tiiat sometime 
 It was a worthy building. — How ! a page ! — 
 Or dead, or sleeping on him ? But dead, rather: 
 For nature doth ablior to make his bed 
 With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. — 
 Let's see the boy's face. 
 
 Cap. He is alive, my lord. [one, 
 
 Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. — Young 
 Inform us of thy fortunes ; for it seems. 
 They crave to be demanded : Who is this, 
 Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he, 
 f hat, otherwise than noble nature did, 
 Hathalter'd that good picture ? What's thy interest 
 In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? 
 What art thou ? 
 
 Into. I am nothing : or if not. 
 
 Nothing to be were better. This was my master, 
 A very valiant Britain, and a good. 
 That here by mountaineers lies slain : — Alas ! 
 There are no more such masters : 1 may wander 
 From east to Occident, cry out for service. 
 Try many, all good, serve truly, never 
 Find such another master. 
 
 Luc. 'Lack, good youtli ! 
 
 Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, thTin 
 Thy master in bleeding; say his name, good friend. 
 
 Imo. Richard dn Champ. If I do lie, and do 
 No harm by it, though the gods hear, I Impe 
 They'll pardon it Say you^sir ? [Aside.) 
 
 Imc. Tliy name ? 
 
 Inm. Fideie. 
 
 Ltic. Thou dnst approve thyself the vry same : 
 Thy name well fits thy faith ; tliy (iiith, thy name. 
 Wilt take thy chance with me ? I will not say. 
 Thou shall be .so well niaster'd ; but be sure, 
 No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters. 
 Sent by a consul to me, should not sooni^r 
 Than thine own worth prefer th; e : Go with me. 
 
 Imo. I'll follow, sir. But tirst, an't please the gmis, 
 I'll hide my master from the llies, as deep 
 As these poor pickaxes can dig : and when 
 With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd 
 
 his grave, 
 And on it said a century of prayers. 
 Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh. 
 And. leaving so liis service, follow you, 
 So please you entertain me. 
 
 Luc. .^y, good youth ; 
 
 And rather father thee, than master ttiee. — ^ 
 ]\1y friends. 
 
 The boy hath taught us many duties : Let us 
 Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can. 
 And make him with our pikes and partisans 
 A grave : Come, aim him, — Boy, he is preferr'd 
 By thee to us; and he shall be iuterr'd. 
 As soldiers can. Be cheerful ; wipe thine eves : 
 Some falls are means the happier to arise, [tlxettnt. 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in Cymbeline's Palace 
 Enter Cymbelinb, Lords, and Pis,vmo. 
 
 Ci/m. .Again : and bring me word, how 'tis with her. 
 A fever with the absence of her son; 
 A madness, of which her life's in daxiger: — Heavens 
 How deeply you at once do touch me I Imogen, 
 'I'he great part of my comfort, gone : my queen 
 Upon a desperate bed ; and in a time, 
 VVhen fearlul wars point at me, her son gone. 
 So neediul for this present; It st.ikes me, past 
 The hope of comfort. — But for thee, fellow. 
 Who needs must know of her departure, and 
 Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee 
 By a sharp torture. 
 
 Pis. Sir, my life is yours, 
 
 I humble set it at your will : But, for my mistress, 
 I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 
 Nor when she purijoses return. 'Beseech your 
 
 highness, 
 Hold me your loyal servant. 
 
 1 Lord. Good my liege, 
 
 The day that she was missing, he was here: 
 I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform 
 All parts of his subjection loyally. 
 For Cloten, — 
 
 There wants no diligence in seeking him, 
 And will, no doubt, be found. 
 
 Cym. The time's troublesome: 
 
 We'll slip you for a season : but our jealousy 
 
 ' {To Pisanio.) 
 
 Does yet depend. 
 
 I Lord. So please your majesty. 
 
 The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn. 
 Are landed on your coast; with a supply 
 Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 
 
 Cy7n. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen ! — 
 I am amaz'd with matter. 
 
 I Lord. Good my liege. 
 
 Your preparation can aft'ront no less 
 Than what you hear of: come more, for more yon re 
 
 ready : 
 The want is, but to put those powers in motion, 
 That long to move. 
 
 Ci/m. I thank you : Let's withdraw; 
 
 Ancf meet the time, as it .seeks us. We leiir not 
 What can from Ilalv annoy us ; but 
 We grieve at chances here.— Away. Ir.xeiini. 
 
 Pis. I heard no letter from my uiaster, since 
 I wrote him, Imogen was slain : 'Tis strange •. 
 Nor hear 1 fr<im mv mistress v<ho did pnnn.so 
 To yield me often tidings: Neither know k 
 
Act V. Scene 3. 
 
 CYMBELTNE. 
 
 649 
 
 VVIiat is betid to Cloteu ; but remain 
 Perjjlcx'd in all. The heavens still must work: 
 Wherein [ ani falsp, 1 am honest ; not true, to he true. 
 ll'.esp presei;! wars shall find I love my ctuntiy, 
 Even lo tiie no'e o'tii;' king, or 1 11 fill in (hem. 
 All other (louhts, by iinio let them be clear'd : 
 Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — Before the Cave. 
 
 Enter Belarios, Guiderius, aw J Arviragus. 
 
 Gui. The noise is round about us. 
 
 jBe/. Let us from it. 
 
 Arv. Wliat pleasure, sir, find we in iite, to lock it 
 From actitfti and adventure ? 
 
 Qui, Nay, wliat hope 
 
 [lave we in hiding us ? this way, tiie Romans 
 Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us 
 For barbarous and unnatural revolts 
 Diirinu their use, and slay us afttr. 
 
 Rel. Sons, 
 
 We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. 
 To the kite's \y.'riy there'j no going: newness 
 Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not niuster'd 
 Among the bands) may drive us to a render 
 Where we have liv'd ; and so extort from us 
 That which we've done, whose answer would be 
 
 death 
 Drawn on with torture. 
 
 Gui. This is, sir, a doubt, 
 
 In such a time, nothing becoming you. 
 Not satisfying us. 
 
 Ar». It is not likely. 
 
 That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, 
 Behold their qiiarter'd fires, iiave both their eyes 
 And ears so cloy'd importdofly as now. 
 That they wi!l waste their time upon our note. 
 To know from whence we are. 
 
 Bel. O, I am known 
 
 Of many in the army : many years, 
 I'hough Clolen then, but yonng, you see, not wore 
 
 him 
 From my remembrance. And, besides, the king 
 Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ; 
 Who find in my exile the want of breeding, 
 Tiie certainty of tliis hard life ; aye hopeless 
 To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd. 
 But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and 
 Th.e shrinking slaves of winter. 
 
 Gui. Than be so, 
 
 Better to cease to be. Pray sir, to the army : 
 r and my brother are not known ; yourself. 
 So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergroAvn, 
 Cannot be question'd. 
 
 Arv. By tliis sun tiiat shines 
 
 I'll thither : What thing is it, that 1 never 
 Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood. 
 But that of coward hares, hot goats, and \enison? 
 Never bestrid a horse, save one, that had 
 A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel 
 Nor iron on his heel ? I am asliani'd 
 To look upon the holy sun,' to base 
 The benefit of his bless 'd beams, remaining 
 So long a poor unknown. 
 
 Gui. By heavens, I'll go : 
 
 If yon will bless me, sir. and gi»e me leave, 
 I'll take the better care ; but if you will not. 
 The hazard therefore due fall on me. by 
 The bands of Romans ! 
 
 Arv. So say I ; Amen. 
 
 Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set 
 So slight a valuation, should reserve 
 My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys : 
 If in your country wars you chance to die. 
 That is my bed too, lads, and there III lie : 
 Lead, lead. — The time seems long; their blood 
 thinks scorn, {Aside.) 
 
 Till it fly out, and sliew them princes born. [E.xetmi. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I.— .4 Field keiween the Briiish and 
 
 Roman Camps. 
 
 Enter PosTOUMUS, tvith a bloody handks^f:,ef. 
 
 Post.Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee ; for I wisU'd 
 Thou should'stbe coiour'd thus. Vou married ones. 
 If each of yon would take this course, how many 
 Must murder wives much better than tliemseUes, 
 For wrying but a little I— O, Pisanio ! 
 Every good servant does not all commands : 
 No bi,nd, but to do just ones. — Gods ! if you 
 Should have ta'en vengeance on my fiuUs, - never 
 Had iiv'd to put on this: so had you s:ived 
 The noble Imogen to repent ; ar.H struck 
 Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alacb. 
 You snatch some henct for little faults ; that's love. 
 To have them fajl no more : you some permit 
 To second ills with ills, each eldf^r w(.rse ; 
 And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. 
 But Imogen is your own : Do your best vvdl. 
 And make nie bless'd to obey \ I am brought hither 
 Among the Italian gentry, and to fight 
 Against my lady's kingdom : *Tis enough, 
 Tliat, Britain, 1 \\a\e kill'd tliy mistress ; peace ! 
 I'll give no wound to thee. Theiefore, good heavens. 
 Hear patiently my purpose: 111 disrobe me 
 Ot these Italian weeds, and suit myself 
 As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight 
 Against the part 1 come with ; so I'll die 
 For thee, O Imogen, e\en for whom my life 
 Is, every breath, a death : and thus, nnktiown, 
 Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
 Myself III dedicate. Let me make men knovr 
 ]\Iore valour i" me, than my habits shew. 
 Gods, pr.t the strength o'the Leonati in me ! 
 To shame the giiisQ o'the world, 1 will bigin 
 The iasliion, less without, and more within. [Exii. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. 
 
 Enter, at one side, Lucius, I.vciiiMO, and the Bo- 
 man army; at the other side, the British 
 army: Leonatus Posthumus JoHotvinrj it, like 
 a poor soldier. They march over, and oo out. 
 Alarums. Then enter a(jain in st/rtmsh, Ia- 
 CHiMO and Posthumus; he vnnqvisheth and 
 disarmeth lachimo, aiid then leaves him. 
 
 lach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosoin 
 Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady, 
 'I'he princess of tliis country, and the air on't 
 Revengingly enfeebles me; Or could this carl, 
 A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, 
 In my profession ? Knighfiioods and liocourg, borne 
 As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
 If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 
 This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odd.-) 
 Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. {Exit. 
 
 The battle continues ; the Britons Jly ; Cymbelink 
 
 is taken ; then enter, to his rescue, Belarius, 
 
 Guiderius, and ARViR.iCUs. 
 
 Bel. Stand, stand ! We have the advantage of the 
 ground ; 
 The lane is guarded : nothing routs us, but 
 The villany oi our fears. 
 
 Gui. §" Arv. Stand, stand, and fight I 
 
 Enter PosrriuMUS. and seconds the Britotis: They 
 rescue Cymbciine. and exeunt. Tlten, enter 
 Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. 
 Liuc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save 
 thyself: 
 For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such 
 As war were hood vviuk'd. 
 
 lach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. 
 
 Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely : Or betimes 
 
 Let's re-enforce, or fly. {Exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — Another Part jf the field. 
 
 Enter Posthumus and a British Lurd. 
 
 Lord. Canist Ihou iium where they made tiie stand? 
 
650 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act y. 
 
 PiSt. I <lid : 
 
 Tiiough you, it aeems, come from the Qicrs. 
 
 Lord. I difl. 
 
 Post. No blame be to yon, sir; for all was lost, 
 But that the heavens fought : The king himself 
 Of hfs winss destitute, the army broken. 
 And but the backs of Critous seen, all Hying 
 Through a straight Line ; the enemy full-hearted, 
 Lolling tiie ton^ne with slnunhteriuif, having work 
 More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down 
 Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling 
 Merely thniugli fe?r; that the straight pass was 
 
 damm'd 
 With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living 
 To die with lengthen'd shame. 
 
 Lord. Where muis this lane ? [tiiif; 
 
 Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with 
 Which gave advantage to an ancient snldier, — 
 An honest one, I warrant ; who d«'ser\'d 
 So long a breeding, as his while beard came to. 
 In doing "this for his country; — atiiwart tlie lane. 
 He, with two striplirigs, (lads more like to riui 
 The country base, than to commit such slaughter; 
 With faces fit tor masks, or rather fairer 
 Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame.) 
 Made good the passage ; cry'd to tliose tliat fled, 
 Oitr Briiains luirts die flying, not our men : 
 To darknesa fleet, souls tluctfly backwards! Stand; 
 0-r we are Romans, and will give you that 
 Like beasts , which you shun beastly; and may save, 
 But to look back in frown : stand, stand! — I'iiese 
 Three thousand confident, in act as many, [three, 
 (For three performers are the file, when all 
 Tlie rest do nothing,) with tliis word, stand, stand, 
 Accomni'udateJ by the place, more charming, 
 W^ith their own tiobleness,(wliich could h.ive turn'd 
 A distaff to a lance), gilded pale looks, 
 Part, siiame, part, spirit reoew'd ; that some turn'd 
 But by example, (O, a sin in war, [coward 
 
 Damn"d in the first beginners ! ) 'g'aii to look 
 The way that they did, and to grin like bona 
 Upon t!ie pikes o'tbe hunters. Tlien began 
 A stop j'tlie chaser, a retire ; anon, 
 A rout, confusion thick : Fortlnvith, they fly 
 Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles ; slaves, 
 The strides they victors made : And now our cowards 
 lljike fnigmeuts in hard voyages,) became [open 
 The life o'the need ; having (bund the back-door 
 Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound ! 
 Some, slain before ; some, dying; some, their friends 
 O'er-borue i"tiie former wave : ten, cliac'd by one. 
 Are now each one the slawghter-nian of twenty : 
 Those, that would die or ere resist are grown 
 The mortal bugs o'the field. 
 
 Lord. This was strange chance : 
 
 A narrow lane ! an old man, and two boys ! 
 
 Post. Nay, do not wonder at it : \ ou are made 
 Rather to wonder at the things you hear. 
 Than to Vi'ork any. Will you rhyme upon't, 
 And vent it for a mockery f Here is one : 
 7\vo boys, an old man twice a boy, a. lane, 
 Preserv'd the Britons, ivas the Romans' bane. 
 
 Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. 
 
 Pout. ' 'Lack, to what end ? 
 
 Who dares not stand his foe, 111 be his friend: 
 For if he"il do, as he is njade to do, 
 I know, hell quickly fly my frlendsliip too. 
 You have put me into ihyme. 
 
 Lord. Far,.nvell ; you are angry. [Exit. 
 
 Post. vStill going !— This is a lord ! O noble 
 misery ! 
 To be i'the field, and ask, what news, of me ! 
 To-day, how many would have given their honours 
 To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't. 
 And yet died too V I, in mine own woe charm'd, 
 Could not hnd death, where I did hear him groan; 
 Nor feel him, where he struck? Being an ugly 
 
 monster, 
 'Tis strange, he liides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
 Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we 
 
 That draw hks krires i'the war. — Well, I wdl find 
 For being now a favourer to the Roman, [hiili: 
 
 No more a Britnu, 1 hH\e resum'd again 
 The part I came in : Fight I will no more, 
 But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall 
 Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is 
 Here made by the Romans; great (he answtsr ba 
 Britons must take : For me, my ransom's deatb: 
 On either side I come to sjiend my breath ; 
 Hhich neither here I'll keep, nor bear again. 
 But end it hy some means for Imogen. 
 
 Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 
 
 1 Cap. Great Ju; iter be prais'd ! Lucius is 
 taken : 'Tis tiiought the old man aud his sons were 
 angels. ' 
 
 2 Cap. There was a fourth rnan, in a silly habit. 
 That gave the afiront with them. 
 
 1 Cap. So 'tis reported : 
 But n(me of them can be found. — Stand ! who i.s 
 
 Post. A Roman ; [there ? 
 
 V\ ho had not now been drooping here, if seconds 
 Had answer'd him. 
 
 2 Cap. Lay hands on him ; a dog ! 
 
 A leg oi'Rome shall not return to tell [service 
 
 WJiat crows have peck'd them here : He brags his 
 As if he were of note : bring him to the king. 
 
 Enter Cymbeline, attended; Belarius. Gui- 
 DERius, Arviragus, PiSAMO. and Roman 
 Captives. The captains j^resent Pos iHUiViUS <o 
 Cy.mbeline, who delivers him over to a Gaoler ; 
 after which, all yo out. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Prison. 
 
 Enter Postoumus, and two Gaoh'7-s. 
 
 J Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you- have 
 locks upon you ; 
 So graze, as you find pasture. 
 "2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers, 
 Post. Most welcome, bondage ! for thou ait a way, 
 I think, to liberty : Yet am I better 
 Than one that's sick o'the gout: since he had rather 
 Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd 
 ]}y tiie sure physician, death; who is the key 
 To unbar these locks. My conscience .' thou art 
 
 fetter'd 
 More than my shanks, and wrists; You, good gods, 
 
 give me 
 The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt. 
 Then, free for ever! Is't enough, I am sorry? 
 So children temporal fatiiers do appease ; 
 Gods are more (nil of mercy. Alust I repent? 
 I cannot do it better than in gyves, 
 Desir'd, more than conslraiii'd : to satisfy, 
 If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
 No stricter render of me, than my all. 
 I know, you are more clement than \ile men. 
 Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
 .\ sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive ;:gain 
 On their abatement; that's not my desiie . 
 For Imogen's dear life, take mine ; and though 
 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it : 
 'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp 
 Though light, take pieces for the iigure's sake : 
 You rather mine, being yours ; And so, greal 
 
 powers, 
 If you will take this audit, take this lif<', 
 And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! 
 I'll speak to tlree in silence. {He sleeps.) 
 
 Solemn Music. Enter as an apparition. Sicilms 
 Leonatus, father to Posthumus. an old man, 
 attired like a warrior ; leadiny in his hand an 
 ancient matron, his tvij'e, and wuthvr to 
 Posthumus, with music before /i\em. Then, 
 after other music, follow the iwoyoinuj Leonn- 
 ti, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds, as they 
 died in the tvars. They circle Postliutnu$ 
 round, as he lies sleepi?ig. 
 Sici. No more, thou thunde •master, siiew 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 CYMBELINE, 
 
 Gol 
 
 ' Thy s|)ite on riiortiiF (lies: 
 With Mars fall out, witli Juno chicle. 
 That thy adulteries 
 
 Rales and revenges. 
 Hath my poor boy done aught but well. 
 
 Whose face I never saw ? 
 I died, whilst in the wotnb he stay'd 
 
 Attending Nature's law. 
 Whose father then (as men report, 
 
 Thou orphans' father art,) 
 Thou siiouldsl have been, and shielded Lim 
 From this earth-vexing smart. 
 Motli. Liicina lent not me her aid. 
 But took me in my throes ; 
 That from me was Posthumus ript, 
 Carne crying 'mongst his foes, 
 A thing of pity I 
 Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry 
 Moulded tiie .stull'so fair. 
 That he deserv'd the [uaise o'the world 
 As great Siciliiis' heir. 
 
 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, 
 In Britain where was he 
 
 That could stand up his paj"dllel ; 
 
 Or fruitful object be 
 In eye of Imogen, tliat best 
 
 Could deem his dignity? 
 Moth. VV'ith mairiage wherefore was he niock'd, 
 
 To be exil'd. and thrown 
 From Leonati' >eat, and cast 
 
 From her his dearest one. 
 Sweet Imogen ? 
 fiici. Why did you sulVer lachimo. 
 
 Slight thing of Italy, 
 To taint his nobler heart and brain 
 
 Witii needless jealousy ; 
 And to become the geek and scorn 
 
 O'the other's viilany ? 
 
 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we caioe, 
 Our parents, and us twain, 
 
 That, striking in our country's cause, 
 
 Fell bravely, and were slain ; 
 Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, 
 
 Witii hcuiourto maintain. 
 
 1 Bro. Like liardimeiit Fosthunuis hath 
 To Cymbeline perforui'd ; 
 
 Then Jupiter, thou kingof eods. 
 
 Why hnst thou thus adjourn'd 
 The graces for bis merits due ; 
 Being all to dolours turn'd ? 
 Sici. 'I'hy crystal window ope : look out ; 
 No longer exercise, 
 Upon a valiant race, thy harsh 
 And I otent injiuies : 
 Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, 
 
 'I'ake olfhis miseries. 
 Sini. Peep through thy marble mansion; help! 
 Or we poor ghosts will cry 
 To the shining synod of the rest, 
 Against thy deity. 
 
 2 Bi'd. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, 
 And frota thy justice fly. 
 
 Jupiter descends in thunder and I'jjhtniriy, sitting 
 upon (in eay/e ; lie tlirows a tlninder-bult. The 
 Ghosts fall on their knees. 
 
 Jlip. No more, you petty spirits of region low, 
 Olfend our hearing; iiush I — How dare you, 
 ghosts. 
 Accuse the thunderer, whose holt, you know. 
 
 Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? 
 Poor shadows of Elysium, hence ; and rest 
 
 Up<m your ne\er-vvittiering banks of flowers : 
 Be not with mortal accidents opprest; 
 
 No care of yours it is; you know, 'tis ours. 
 Whom best 1 love, I cross; to make my gift, 
 
 The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; 
 Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift; 
 
 His comforts thri\e, his trials well are spent. 
 Our Jovial star reign'cl at his birth, and in 
 
 Our temple was he married. — Rise, and fade. — 
 He shall be lord of lady Imogen, 
 
 And happier much by his affliction made. 
 This tablet lay upon his breast ; wherein 
 
 Our pleasure his»fuil fortune doth confme ; 
 And so, away : no further with your din 
 
 Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.— 
 . Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. \ Ascends. 
 Sici. He came in thunder ; his celestial breath 
 Was sulphurous to smell : the holy eagle 
 Stoop'd, as to foot us: his ascension is 
 More sweet than our bless'd fields : his royal bird 
 Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak. 
 As wheu his god is pleas'd. 
 All. Thanks, Jupiter! 
 
 Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd 
 His radiant roof: — ,4 way! and, to be blest. 
 Let us with care perform his great behest. 
 
 {Ghosts vanish.) 
 Post. {Walcinr/.) Sleep, thou hast been a grand- 
 sire, and begot 
 A father to me : and thou hast created 
 A mother, and two brothers : But (O scorn !) 
 Gone ! they went hence so soon as they were bom. 
 And so I am awake. — Poor wretches, that depend 
 On greatness' favour, dream as I ha\e done; 
 Wake and find nothing. — But, alas, I swerve: 
 Many dream not to find, neither deserve. 
 And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, 
 That have this golden chance, and know not why. 
 What fairies haunt this ground ? A book ? O, rare 
 Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment [one ! 
 Nobler than that it covers ; let thy effects 
 So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers. 
 As good as iiromise. 
 
 {Heads.) When as a lion's tvhelp shall, to himself 
 unknoivn, without seeking find, and he embraced 
 hi a piece of tender air; and when frotn a 
 stately ced/ir shall be lopped branches, tvhich, 
 being dead tnany years, shall after revive, be 
 jointed to the old stock, and freshly groiv; 
 then shall Posthumus end his miseries,Britain 
 be fortunate, and flourish in pence and plenty, 
 'Tis still a dream; or else such stnlf as madmen 
 Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: 
 Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
 As sense cannot untie. Be what it is 
 'I he action of my life is like it, whicli 
 I'll keep, if but for synipati;y. 
 
 Re-enter Gaolers. 
 
 Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death ? 
 
 Post. 0\er-roasted rather: ready long ago. 
 
 Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready 
 for that, you aie well cooked. 
 
 Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spec- 
 tators, the dish ))ays the shot. 
 
 Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir : But the 
 comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, 
 fear no more tavern bills; which are often the 
 sadness of parting, as tiie procuring of mirth : you 
 come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with 
 too much drink; sorry that you ha\e jiaid too much 
 and sorry tli;it you are paid t(JO nuich ; purse and 
 brain both ernply: the brain the heavier tor being 
 too light, the purse too light, being drawn of hea- 
 viness : O ! of this contradiction you shall now be 
 <piit. — O the ciiarity of a penny cord ! it sums up 
 thousands in a trice : you haxe no true debitor and 
 creditor but it : of w hat's past, is, and to coiue, the 
 discharge : — ^'onr neck, sir. is pen, book, and 
 counters : so the acquittance follows. 
 
 Post. I am merrier to die, than tliou art to live. 
 
 Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the 
 tooth ach : But a man that were to sleep yonr sleep, 
 and a hangman to hel|) hiu) to bed, I think he wonlct 
 change places with his officer : for, look you, sir, 
 you know not wiiich way yon shall go. 
 
 Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. 
 
 Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head then ; I have 
 
652 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 not seen liim so pictured : you must either be <li- 
 rectfd by some tliat take upon them to know; or 
 take upon yourself that, which I am sure you do 
 not know ; or jump the after-enquiry on your own 
 peril : and how you shall speed in your journey's 
 end, I think you'll never return to tell one. 
 
 Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want 
 eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as 
 wink, and will not use them. 
 
 Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man 
 would have the best use of eyes, to see the way 
 of blindness ! I am sure, hanging's the way of 
 winking. 
 
 Enter a Messacjer. 
 
 Mess. Knock off his manacles ; bring yonr pri- 
 soner to the king. [be iiiude free. 
 
 Post. Tiioii bringest good iiews; — I am called to 
 
 Gaul. I'll be h;ing;d tiie;i. 
 
 Post. 'I'hoa sli.ilt lie then freer than a gnoler. no 
 bolts for the dead. [E.xeunt Posfhumtis and Mess. 
 
 Gaol. Unk-ss a man wjuld marry a gallows, and 
 beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, 
 on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to 
 live, for all he be a Roman : and there be some of 
 them too, tiiat die against t.'ieir wills : so should I. 
 if I were one. I \vould we were all of one mind, 
 and one mind good: O, there were dosoiation of 
 gaolers, and gallowses ! I spe;ik against my pre.'-ent 
 profit; but my wish hath a prelenneut in't. 
 
 Scene V. — Cymbeline's Tent. 
 Enter Cymbelins, Belarius, Guiderius. Arvi- 
 
 RAGUS, PiSANiO, Lorcls, Ojjicers, and Attendants, 
 
 Cyin. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have 
 made 
 Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart, 
 That the poor iioldier, that so richly fought. 
 Whose rags sliam'd gilded arms, wliose uaked 
 
 breast 
 Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found : 
 He shall b" hapjiy that can find him, if 
 Our grace can make him so. 
 
 Bel. I never saw 
 
 Such noble fury in so poor a thing ; 
 Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought 
 But hetigary aud poor lojks. 
 
 Cytn. No tidings of him ? 
 
 Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and 
 But no trace of him. [living, 
 
 Cy:n. To my grief, I am 
 
 Tiie lirir of liis reward ; which I \\\\\ aiM 
 To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, 
 
 ( To Bclarh/s, Guiderius, andArviragvs.) 
 By wliom, I grant, she lives : "I'ls now tlie time 
 To ask of whence you are : — report it. 
 
 Del. Sir, 
 
 In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : 
 Further to boast, were neither true nor modest. 
 Unless I add, we are honest. 
 
 (h/m. Bow your knees : 
 
 Arise, my knights o'the battle; I create you 
 Coui|.anioiis to our person, and will fit you 
 With dignities becoming your estates. 
 
 Enter Counelius and Ladies. 
 There's business in these faces : — VV hy so sadly 
 Greet you our victory ? you look like Rumans, 
 And not o'the com t of Britain. 
 
 Cor. Hail, great king ! 
 
 To sour your happiness, I must report 
 The queen is dead. 
 
 Cym. Whom worse than a physician 
 
 Would this report become i But I considi-r. 
 By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death 
 Will seize the doctor too, — How ended she? 
 
 Cor. "vV'itli h.irror, madly d\i"g, like her life ; 
 Which, beiny; cruel to the world, concluded 
 Most cru( I to herself. What she coufess'd, 
 I wstl report, sd [ilease you : Tiiese her women 
 Can trip me, if [ err; wuo, vvith wet cheeks. 
 
 Were present when she finish'd. 
 
 Cym. Pry thee, say. 
 
 Cor. First, she confe«s'd she never I Jv'd you; only 
 Affected greatness got by you, not jon ; 
 Married your royalty, was wife to your place; 
 Abhorr'd your person. 
 
 Cym. She alone knew tluf; 
 
 And, but she spoke it dying, I would not 
 Believe her lips in opening. Proceed. 
 
 Cor. Yonr daughter, whom she bore in hand to 
 With such integrity, she did confess [,'•>*« 
 
 Was as a scorpion to her sight; Whose life, 
 But that her flight prevented it, she had 
 'I'a'en off by poison. 
 
 Cym. O most delicate fiend ! 
 
 Who is't can read a woman? — Is there more ? [h;id 
 
 Cor. More, sire, and worse. Siie did confess, she 
 For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, 
 Suould by the minute feed on life, and, ling'riug. 
 By inches waste you : In which time she purpos'd, 
 By watciiing, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 
 O'erconie you with her shew: yes, and in time, 
 (vVheu she had fitti'd vou vvith her craft,) to work 
 Her son into the adoption of tlie crovvu. 
 But failing of her end by his strange absence. 
 Grew shameless-desperate ; open'd, in despite 
 C'l heaven and men, her purposes; repented 
 'i'he evils she hatch'd were not effected : so. 
 Despairing, died. 
 
 Cym. Heard you all this, her women i 
 
 Lndy. We did so, please your highuess. 
 
 Cym. Mine eyea 
 
 Were not in fault, for she was beautiful: 
 Mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor n:y heart, 
 Tliat thought her like iicr sceraing ; it had been 
 
 vicious. 
 To have mistrusted her : yet, O my d inghter ! 
 Th:'t it was folly in nie. thon may'st say. 
 And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend ail! 
 
 Enter Lucius, Tachimo, the Soothsayer, nndofhtr 
 Roman prisoners, yuarded : Posthumu.s bekind, 
 and LvioGEN. 
 
 Thou com'ft not, Cains, now for tribute ; that 
 'i'he Britons liHve ruz'd out, though with the. loss 
 01 many a bold on? ; vvhose kinsmen have made suit 
 I'hat their good souls may be appcas'd with slaughter 
 Ol you their captives, wnich o:irself have granted : 
 So, tliink of your estate. 
 
 Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war : (he day 
 VVas yours by accident ; had it gone with us, 
 We should not, when the blood was cool, have 
 
 threuten'd 
 Oiir prisontrs with tlie sword. But since tlie gods 
 Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives 
 May be call d ransom, let it come : siifiiceth, 
 A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer : 
 Augustus lives to think on't : And so much 
 For my peculiar care. Tiiis one thing only 
 I will entreat ; My buy, a Briton born. 
 Let him be ransotn'd : never master had 
 A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, 
 So tender over his occasions, true, 
 Sn feat, so mirse-like ; let his virtue join [ness 
 
 With my request, which, I'll make bold, your high 
 Cannot deny : he hath done no Briton harm, 
 Though he liave serv'd a Roman; save him, sir, 
 And spare no blood beside. 
 
 Cym. I have surely seen him 
 
 His favour is familiar to me, — 
 Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace. 
 And art mine own. — I know not why, nor v\liHrel(ire 
 To say, live, boy : n-'er thank thy master ; live : 
 And ask of Cymbeline what boon Itiou uiit, 
 Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ; 
 Yea, though IIkju do demand a prisoner. 
 The noblest ta'en. 
 
 Imo. I humbly th.irk your li'giiness 
 
 Lw^. I do not bid thee beg my life, gwotl l.ul ; 
 And yet, I kui>*v, thou wilt. 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 653 
 
 Imo. No, no : alack, 
 
 There's other work in hand ; I see a thing 
 liitter to iiie as dt-iitli : your life, good master. 
 Must shiitUe lor itself. 
 
 hue. The boy disdains me, 
 
 He ieaws me, scorns me : briefly die their joys, 
 That plme them on the truth of girls and boys. — 
 Wjiy stands he so jjerjjlex'd :" 
 
 Cy77i. What vvoidd'st tlioii, boy? 
 
 I love Ihee more and more; think more and more 
 What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on ? 
 
 sjieak. 
 Will ha\e liim Tne V Is he tliy kin? thy friend ? 
 
 Imo, He is a Roman; no more kin to me. 
 Than 1 to your higiiness ; who, being born your 
 Am .sometiiing nearer. [vassal, 
 
 Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so ? 
 
 Imu. Ill tell you, sir, in private, if you please 
 To gi\e me hearing. 
 
 Cym. Ay, with all my heart. 
 
 Anil lend my best attention. What's thy name? 
 Imo. Fidele, sir. 
 
 Cym. Tiiou art my good youth, my page ; 
 
 I'll be thy master: W alk with nie \ speak freely. 
 
 (Cyniheline and Imorjen converse apart.) 
 Bel. Is not tiiis boy revi\'d from death? 
 Arv. One, sand another 
 
 ' Not more resembles : That sweet rosy lad. 
 Who dieil, and was Fidele: — What think you? 
 (hi}. The same dead thing alive. [forbear; 
 
 Bel. i'eare, peace I see further; he eyes us not; 
 Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure 
 Hf: would liave spoke to us. 
 
 CrHi. But we saw him dead. 
 
 Bel. Be silent ; lei's see further 
 
 Pts. It is my mistress : {^Aside.) 
 
 Since she is living, let the time run on, 
 
 To tcood, oi bad. [Cyinh. and Imo. come forward.) 
 
 Ct/m. Come, stand thou by our side ; 
 
 Make thv demand aloud. — Sir, [to lac/:.) step you 
 
 forth : 
 Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; 
 Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, 
 Which is our honour, bitter tortin"e shall [him. 
 
 Wiunow I he truth from falsehood. — On, speak to 
 Imo. Aly boon is, that this gentleman may render 
 Of whom he had tiiat ring. 
 
 Post. What's that to him? (^»iWe.) 
 
 Cym. That diamond upon your tinger, say. 
 How came it yours :" 
 
 la( h. 'J'hou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that 
 Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. 
 Cym. How ! me ? 
 
 laclt. I am glarl to he constrain'd to utter that. 
 Torments me ti» conceal. By villany [which 
 
 I got this ring ; 'twas Leonatus' jewel : 
 Whom thou didst banish ; and ( which more may 
 
 grie\e thee. 
 As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 
 "j'wixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my 
 Cym. All that belongs to this. [lord ? 
 
 lacli. That paragon, thy daugliter, — 
 
 For wh<.n my heart drops blood, and my false spirits 
 Quail to remember, — Give me leave; — I faint. 
 Cym. My daughter' what of her? Renew thy 
 strength : 
 I had ratlier thou should'st live while nature will, 
 Than die ere I iiear more : strive, man, and speak. 
 
 lack. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock. 
 That struck the hour!) it was m Rome, (accurs'd 
 The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would 
 Oiir \i:in(ls had been poison'd I or, at least, 
 Tliose which 1 heav'd to head!) the good Posthumus, 
 (What should I say ? he was too good to be 
 Where dl men were; and was the best of all 
 Among'st the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, 
 Hearing us praise our loves ol Italy 
 For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast 
 Of him that best could speak: for feature, laming 
 The shrine of V^enus, or straight pight Minerva, 
 
 Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition, 
 A shop of all the qualities that man 
 Loves woman lor : besides, that hook of wiving, 
 Fairness which strikes the eye : 
 
 Cym. I stand on fire : 
 
 Come to the matter. 
 
 lack. All to<) soon I shall. 
 
 Unless thou woidd'st grieve quickly. — This Poo- 
 (iMost like a noble lord in love, and one [thumus, 
 Tliat had a royal lover,) took his hint; 
 And, not dispraising whom we jirais'd (therein 
 He was as calm as virtue) he began [made, 
 
 His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being 
 And then a mind put in't, either our bra^s 
 Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his desxription 
 Prov'd us unspeaking suts. 
 
 CyTn. Nay, nay, to the ))L:rpose. 
 
 lack. Y"our daughter's chastity — There i^ begins! 
 He spake of her as Dian had hot dn ams, 
 And she alone were cold : Wliereat, 1, wretch ! 
 Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him 
 Pieces of gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore 
 Upon his honour'd finger, to attain 
 In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring 
 By hers and mine adultery : he, true knight, 
 No lesser of her honour confident 
 Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring ; 
 And would so, had it been a carbimcle 
 Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it 
 Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain 
 Post I in this design : Well may you, sir. 
 Remember me at court, where 1 was taught 
 Of your chaste daughter the wide dillerence 
 ' rwi.\t amorous and villanous. Being thus queneh'tt 
 Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 
 'Gan in your duller Britain operate 
 Most vilely ; for my avantage, excellent; 
 And, to be brief, my practice so pievail'd, 
 That I return'd witii siinular proof enough 
 To make tiie noble Leonatus mad. 
 By wounding his belief in her renown 
 With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes 
 Of chamber-hanging, ))ictures, this her bracelet 
 (O, cunning, how I got it!) iiay, some marks 
 Of secret on her person, that he could not 
 But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, 
 I having ta'en the iorltit, VV hereupon, — 
 Methinks, I see him now, — 
 
 Post. Ay, so thou dost, {Coming forward,] 
 
 Italian fiend ! — .Ah me, most credulous tool. 
 Egregious murderer, thief, any thing 
 'J hit's due to all the villains past, in being, 
 To come ! — O, give me cord, or knife, or jjoison. 
 Some upright jnsticer ! Thou king, send out 
 For torturers ingenious : it is I 
 That all the abliorred things o'the earth amend. 
 By being worse than they. lam Posthumus, 
 That kill'd thy daughter: — villain-like, I lie; 
 That caus'd a lesser villain than mysell, 
 A sacrilegious thief to do't : — the temple 
 Of virtue was she ; yea, and she hersellL 
 Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 
 Tlie dogs o'the street to bay me ; every villain 
 Be calld, Posthumus Leonatus; and 
 Be villany le.ss than 'twas I — O Imogen ! 
 My queen, my life, my wife ! O Imogen J 
 Imogen, Imogen ! 
 
 Imo. Peace, my lord : hear, Iiear — 
 
 Post. Shall's have a play of this ? Thou scornful 
 page. 
 There lie thy part. {Striking her : she fulls ) 
 
 Pis. O, gfntleinen, help, help 
 
 Mine, and your mistress: — O, my lord Posthumus! 
 Vou ne'er kdi'd Imogen till now : — Help, lielp! — 
 Mine honour'd lady ! 
 
 Cym. Does the world go round ? 
 
 Post. How come these staggers on me ? 
 Pis. Wake, my mistress ! 
 
 Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me 
 To death with mortal joy 
 
654 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Pis. How fares my mistress? 
 
 Imo. U. e:cl tliee from my sight : 
 Tliou gav St me poison : dangerous fellow, hence ! 
 Breathe not where princes are. 
 
 Cym. The tune of Imogen ! 
 
 Pis. Lady, 
 The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if 
 That box I gave you was not thought by me 
 A precious thing; I had it from the queen. 
 
 Cym. 'New matter still? 
 
 Jmo. ft poison'd me. 
 
 Cor. O gods 1 — 
 
 I left out one thing, which the queen coni'essd, 
 Which must approxe thee honest: If Pisanio 
 Have, said she, given liis mistress that confection 
 Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd 
 As 1 would serve a rat. 
 
 Cym. What's this, Cornelius ? 
 
 Cur. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me 
 To temper jjoisons for lier; still preten<ling 
 The satisfaction of her knowledge, only 
 In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs 
 Ol'no esteem : I, dreading that her purpose 
 Was of more danger, did compound for her 
 A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease 
 Th" present )iower of life ; but, in short time, 
 All offices of nature should again 
 Do their due fimctions. — Have you ta'en of it? 
 
 Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. 
 
 Bel. My boys. 
 
 There was our error. 
 
 Gut. This is sure, Fidele. [you ? 
 
 Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from 
 Think, that you are upon a rock; and now 
 Throw me again. (Embracing him.) 
 
 Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul, 
 
 Till the tree die ! 
 
 Cy7n. How now, my flesh, my child ? 
 
 What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act ? 
 Wilt thou not speak to me ? 
 
 I?no. Your blessing, sir. [Kneelinrj.] 
 
 Bel. Though you did love tiiis youth, I blame 
 ye not ; [to Guiderius and ArviraQus.) 
 You had a motive for it. 
 
 Cym. My tears, that fall. 
 
 Prove holy water on thee ! Imogen, 
 Thy mother's dead. 
 
 imo. I am sorry for't, my lord. 
 
 Cym. O, she was naught ; and 'long of her it was. 
 That we meet here so strangely : But her son _ 
 Is gone, we know not how, nor where. 
 
 Pis. My lord. 
 
 Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, 
 Upon my lady's missing, came to me [swore, 
 
 With his sword drav, n ; foam'd at the mouth, and 
 If I discover'd not which way she was gone. 
 It was my instant death : By accident, 
 I had a feigned letter of my master's 
 Then in my pocket; which directed him 
 To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ; 
 Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments. 
 Which he enforc'd from me, away he posts 
 With unchaste purpose, and with oaths to violate 
 My lady's honour: what became of him, 
 I further know not. 
 
 Gui. Let me end the story : 
 
 I slew him there. 
 
 Cym. Marry, the gods forefend ! 
 
 I would not thy good deeds should from my lips 
 Pluck a hard sentence : pr'ythee, valiant youth, 
 Deny't again. 
 
 Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. 
 
 Cym,. He was a prince. 
 
 Gui. A most uncivil one : The wrongs he did me. 
 Were nntliing prince like ; for he did provoke me 
 W^ith language, that would make me spurn the sea. 
 If it cou:d so roar to me : 1 cut olTs head ; 
 And am right glad, he is not standing here 
 To tell this tale of mine. 
 
 Cym. I am sorry for thee • 
 
 By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must 
 Endure our law : 'i'hou art dead. 
 
 Imo. That headlew aaan 
 
 I thought had been my lord. 
 
 Cym. Bind the offeDaer, 
 
 And take him from our presence. 
 
 Bel. Stay, sir kinf. ; 
 
 This man is better than the man he slew. 
 As well descended as thyself; and hath 
 More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens 
 Had ever scar for. — Let his arms alone ; 
 
 [To the guard.) 
 They were not born for bondage. 
 
 Cym. VV^hy. old solciier, 
 
 Wilt thou undo the worth thou art luipaid for, 
 By tasting of our wrath ? How of descent 
 As good as we i 
 
 Arv. In that he spake too far. 
 
 Cym. And thou shalt die for't. 
 
 Bel. We will die all three : 
 
 But I will prove, that two of us are as good 
 As I ha^ e given out him. — My sons, I must, 
 For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech. 
 Though, haply, well i'or you. 
 
 Arv. Your danger is 
 
 Ours. 
 
 Gui. And our good his. 
 
 Bel. Have at it then. — 
 
 By leave : — Thou hadst, great king, a subject, who 
 Was call'd Belariiis. 
 
 Cym. What of him? he is 
 
 A banish'd traitor. 
 
 Bel. Fie it is, that hath 
 
 Assum'd this age : indeed, a banish'd man; 
 I know not how, a traitor, 
 
 Cym, Take him hence ; 
 
 The whole world shall not save him. 
 
 Bel. Not too hot : 
 
 First |iay me for the nursing of thy sons ; 
 And let it be confiscate all, so soon 
 As I have receiv'd it. 
 
 Cym. Nursing of my sons? 
 
 Bel. I am too blunt, and saucy : Here's iny knee ; 
 Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; 
 Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir. 
 These two young gentlemm, that call me lather, 
 .4nd think they are my sons, are none of mine ; 
 'J'hey are the issue of your loins, my liege. 
 And blood of your begetting. 
 
 Cy7)i. How! my issue? 
 
 Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, 
 Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : 
 Your pleasure was my mere otfence, my fiiinishment 
 Itself, and all my treason; that I sufl'er'd, 
 Was all the harm I did. 'i'hese gentle princes 
 (For such, and so they are,) these twenty years 
 Have I train'd up : those arts they have, as I 
 Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as 
 Your highness knov\s. 'I'heir nurse, Euriphilc, 
 Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children 
 Upon my banishment : I mov'd her to't; 
 Having receiv'd the punishment before. 
 For that which I did then : Beaten for loyalty ■ 
 Excited me to treason : Their dear loss, 
 The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd 
 Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, 
 Here are your sons again : and I must lose 
 Two of the sweet'st companions in the world : — ^ 
 The benediction of these covering heavens 
 Fall on their heads like dew ! for they are worthy 
 To inlay heaven with stars. 
 
 Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st 
 
 The service, that you three have done, is more 
 Unlike than this thou tell'.st : I lost my children ■ 
 If these be they, I know not how to wish 
 A pair of worthier sons. 
 
 Bel. Be pleas'd a whde.— 
 
 This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, 
 Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guideniis; 
 This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 655 
 
 Vour younger princely son ; he, sir, was lappM 
 In ;\ most curious mantle, vvronslit by tli* hand 
 Of liis queen niother, which, lor more probation, 
 I c^in with ease produce. 
 
 Ci/tn. Gniderius had 
 
 Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; 
 It was a mark of wonder, 
 
 Sel. This is he ; 
 
 Who hath upon him still that natural stayip : 
 It was wise nature's end in the donation, 
 To he his evidence now. 
 
 Ci/!/i, O, what, am I 
 
 A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother 
 Rejoic'd deliverance more : — Bless'd may you be. 
 That, after this strange starting from your orbs. 
 You may reign in them now ! — O Imogen, 
 Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. 
 
 Imo. No, my lord ; 
 
 I have got two worlds hy't. — O, my gentle brothers, 
 Have we thus met:' O never say herealter, 
 liut I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother. 
 When I was but your sister; 1 yoii brotiier, 
 Wlif'n you were so indeed. 
 
 Ci/rn. Did you e'er meet ? 
 
 A7-V. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Qui. And at first rneeting loy'd ; 
 
 Contiiiuf'd so, until we thought he died. 
 (^or. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. 
 C//m. O rare instinct! [ment 
 
 When shall I hear all through V This fierce abridge- 
 llath to it circumstantial branches, wiiich [you? 
 Distinction should be rich in. — Where ? how liv'd 
 ,\nd when came you to serve our Roman captive ? 
 How p:ii ted with your brothers '! how first met them ? 
 \\ hy fled you from the court? and whither? These, 
 And your three motives to the battle, with 
 t kniiw not how much more, should be demanded; 
 And all tue other by-iiependen';ies, 
 From cliance to chance ; but nor the time, nor place. 
 Will serve our long iiitergatorics. See, 
 Postriumus anchors upon Lnogen ; 
 And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye 
 On him, her brothers, me, lier master; hitting 
 Each object with a joy ; the counterchange 
 !s severally in all. Let's quit this ground, 
 -And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. — 
 Thou art my brother ; so we'll hold thee ever. 
 
 {To Bel ar ilia.) 
 Imo. You are my father too; and did relieve me. 
 To see this gracious season. 
 
 Cym. All o'eijoy'd. 
 
 Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, 
 ¥<JT they shall taste our comfort. 
 
 Imo. My good master, 
 
 I will yet do you service. 
 Luc. Happy be you I 
 
 Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, 
 He would have well becom'cl this place, and grac'd 
 I'he thankings of a king. 
 
 Post. I am, sir, 
 
 Tlie soldier, that did company these three 
 III poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment lor 
 Tne purpose I then follow'd : — That I was he, 
 .Speak, lachimo; I had you down, and might 
 Hine made you finish. 
 
 lach. I am down again, (Kneeling.) 
 
 But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, 
 As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, 
 W^iiich I so oiten owe : but your ring first; 
 And here the bracelet of the truest princess. 
 That ever swore her faith. 
 
 Post. Kneel not to me ; 
 
 The power, that I have on you, is to spare you ; 
 The malice towards you, to forgive you : Live, 
 Aud deal with otliers better. 
 
 Cym. Nobly doom'ti : 
 
 We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law ; 
 Pardon's the Avord to all. 
 
 Arv. You holp ns, sir. 
 
 As you did mean indeed to be our brother; 
 Joy'd are we, that you are. [Rome 
 
 Post. Your servant, princes. — Good my lord of 
 Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought 
 Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, 
 Apptard to me, with other spritely shews 
 Ol mine own kindred ; when I wak'd, I found 
 '1 his label on my bosom ; whose containing 
 Is so from sense in hardness, that I can 
 Make no collection oi Tt ; let hiin shew 
 Hi.s skill in the construction. 
 Luc. Philarmonus, — 
 
 Sooth. Here, my good lord. 
 Lvc. Read, and declare the meaning. 
 
 Svuth. [Reads.) When a.i a lion's whelp, shall to 
 himsvlf unknown, without seeking find, and be 
 embraced by a piece of tender air; and tvhen 
 from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, 
 which, being dead many years, shall after revive, 
 be jointed to the old'siuck, and freshly grow; 
 then shall Posthiimiis end his miseries, Britain 
 be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. 
 Thou, Leonatiis, art the lion's whelp; 
 The fit and apt con.struction of thy name. 
 Being Leo-iuitiis, doth import so much : 
 I'he piece of tender air, tliy virtuous daughter, 
 
 {To Cy?nbeune, 
 Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aur 
 We term it mulier : wliich mulier, I divine, 
 Is this most constant wife; who, even now. 
 Answering the letter of tJie oracle. 
 Unknown to you, unsoi:ght, were clipp'd about 
 With this most tender air. 
 
 Cym. This hath some seeming 
 
 Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeliue, 
 Personages tiiee : and thy lopp'd branches point 
 'J'hy two sons forth; wlio, by Belariiis stolen. 
 For many years tiiought dead, are now reviv'd, 
 'J'o tbe maje.stic cedar joiu'd ; whose issue 
 Promises Britain peace and plenty. 
 
 Cym. Well, 
 
 My peace we will begin: — And, Cnies Lucius, 
 Although the victor, we submit to Cajsar, 
 And to the Roman empire; promising 
 To pay our wonted tribute, iVom the vvliich 
 We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ; 
 VVhom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers„' 
 Have laid most heavy hand. 
 
 Sooth. The fingers of the powers aboye do tune 
 The harmony of this peace. The vision 
 Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke 
 Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
 Is full accoinplish'd : For the Roman eagle. 
 From south to west on wing soaring alolt, 
 Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'tlie sun 
 So vanish'd : which foreshew'd our princely eagle, 
 The imperial Caesar, should again unite 
 His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, 
 Which shines here in the west. 
 
 Cym. Laud we the gods; 
 
 And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils 
 From our bless'd altars ! Publish we this peace 
 To all our subjects. Set we forward : Let 
 A Roman and a British ensign wave 
 Friendly together; so through Lud's town march; 
 And in the temple of great Jupiter 
 Ouc peace we'll ratify ; seal it with feastg. — 
 Set on there : — Never was a war did cea*e. 
 Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with sucli a peacu. 
 
A~ thf. editors and critics agree with Mr. Theobald in supposing this play spurious. I see iiortason for ditTenva 
 trom tiiem : for tlic colour of tlje style is wholly dirtereiit from that of tlie other p.ay<i; and there is an altemtit at 
 regular versiucaiiou and arliiicial closes, uot always inelegant, yet seldom pleasing The barbarity of the sp'.ctacle*, 
 and the general massacre, whicli are here exhibited, can scarcely be conceived tolerable to any audience; jet we are 
 told by Joiisdii, thai Ihey were not only home, but praised. That Sh»k..speare wrote any part, thousrh TheobaliJ 
 eclares it iuvutitcstable, I see no reason for believing. Johnson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 SATURNINUS. Sou to the late Emperor of Rome, and 
 ajlerwurds declared Emperor himself. 
 
 BASSI.\NUS, Brother to Satiirninus ; zii love with 
 Laviniii. 
 
 TITUS ANDKUNICUS, a noble Roman, General against 
 the Oolhs. 
 
 BIARCt'S ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People; and 
 Brother to Titus. 
 
 LUCipS; -J 
 
 ^lARTlUs' ( '^'"" '" ^'''" ^'"■froniciis. 
 
 muTius, ' ' 
 
 toting lit'CIUS, a Boy, Son to Lucius. 
 
 PUBLIUS, Son to Marcus the Tribune. 
 j5JMIL1CS, a noble Roman. 
 ALAKBLTa, » 
 
 CHIRO.N, > Sons to Tamora. 
 
 Ut-METRIUS, J 
 
 AAKON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. 
 A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Ronsuno, 
 Goths and Romans. 
 TAMORA, Queen of the Goths. 
 LAVINIA, Daughter to Titus Andronicus. 
 A Nurse, and a black Child. 
 Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soi- 
 iliers, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Rome ; and the Country near it. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene 1. — Rome. Before the CapitoL 
 
 The tomb of the Andronivl apjjearing ; the Tri- 
 bunes ami. Senators aloft, as in the Senate. 
 Enter, beluiv, Saturninus, and his Followers, 
 on one side ; and Bassianus and his Folloivers, 
 on the other ; ivith drum and colours. 
 
 Sat. Noble patncian.s, patrons of my right, 
 Det'eni the justice of my cause with arms ; 
 And, cofintrymen, my lovin;? followers, 
 PicaJ my successive title with your swords : 
 I am his first-born son, that was the la.st 
 That wore the imperial diadem ol Rome; 
 Then let my father's honours live in me. 
 Nor wroriR mine age with (his indignity. 
 
 Jias. liiiinaus, — friends, Ibllovvers, favourers ef 
 If ever Bas.siuiius, Cassar's son, [my right, — 
 
 Were giacious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
 Keep tiiesi this passage to the Capitol, 
 And suffer not flishonuur to approach 
 'I'iie imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, 
 To justice, continence, and nobility : 
 But let desert ia pure election shine ; 
 And, Romans, tiglit for ireedom iu your choice. 
 
 Enter Marcus Andronicus, aloft, with the 
 croivn. 
 
 Mar, Princes, — tliat strive by factions, and by 
 friends. 
 Ambitiously lor rule and empery, — 
 Know, that tiie people of Rome, for whom we stand 
 A special party, have, by common voice. 
 In election lor the Roman empery, 
 Chosen Andronicus, siirnamerf Pius, 
 For many gOod and great deserts to Rome ; 
 A nobler man, a braver warrior, 
 Lives not tiiis day within tlie city walls : 
 He by the senate is accited home. 
 From weary wai s aganist the barbarous Goths ; 
 That, with liis suns, a terror to our foes, 
 Hath yok'd a nation strong, Irain'd up in arms. 
 Ten years are spent, since (irst he undertook 
 This cause of Rjnie, and chastised with arms 
 Our enemies' pride: Five times lie hath retura'd 
 Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sous 
 In codins fioui the field; 
 Acd now, at last, laden with honour's spoils, 
 Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, 
 Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
 U:t us entirat,— By hormur of his name, 
 W.,ioni, vvoi tiuiy, yoi; would have now succeed, 
 i^ati ID the Capitol and senates right, 
 
 Whom you pretend to honour and adore, — 
 That you withdraw you, and abate your strength ; 
 Dismiss your ibllowers, and, as suitors should, 
 Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 
 
 Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my 
 thoughts ! 
 
 Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy 
 In thy uprightness and integrity, 
 And so 1 love and honour thee and thine, 
 Thy noble brother Titus, and his sons, 
 And her, to whom my thoughts are humbled all| 
 Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament. 
 That I will here dismiss my loving friends; 
 And to my tbrtunes, and the people's favour. 
 Commit my cause in balance to be vveigh'd. 
 
 [Exeunt the Follotoers of Bassianus 
 
 Sat. Friends, that have been thus lorvvard in my 
 I thank you all, and here dismiss you all; [right 
 And to tlie love and favour of my country 
 Commit myself, my person, and the cause. 
 
 [Exeunt the Followers of Satiirninus 
 Rome, be as just and gracious unto me. 
 As 1 am confident and kind to thee. — 
 Open the gates and let me iu. 
 
 Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor com vietitor. 
 {Sat, and Bas. (/o into the Capitol, and exeunt 
 luith Se?iators, Marcus ^'c.) 
 
 Scene \l.— The same. 
 Enter a Captain, and others. 
 Cap. Romans, make way : The good Andronicus 
 Patron of virtue, Rome's best ch.4mpioii. 
 Siiccessfid iu the battles that he tiglits, 
 i With honour and with fortune is retiirn'd. 
 From where he circumscribed with his sword. 
 And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. 
 
 Flourish of trutnpets, §fc. Enter MuTiUS atid 
 Martius ; after them, two 7nen bearing a coffin 
 covered ivith black ; then Quintus and Lucius. 
 After them, TiTUS Andronicus; aiid then 
 Tamora, %cith Alarbus, Chiron, Lemetrius 
 Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldien 
 and People, folloiviny. The bearers set olttwn 
 the coffin, and i'lTUS speaks. 
 Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy moiirnlDg 
 weeds ! 
 Lo, as the bark, that hath discharg'd her fraught, 
 Returns with precious lading to the bay. 
 From whence at lirst she weigli'd her anchorage, 
 Cometh Andronicus, bound wilh laurel boughs. 
 To re-.s;dutc his country with his tears ; 
 Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 657 
 
 Thon great defender of this Capital, 
 
 Stand gracinus to tlie rites tiiiit we intend ! — 
 
 Romans, oi fne and twenty \aliant sons, 
 
 Half of tlie number that kin^ Pii.un had, 
 
 Beliold tiie poor remains, alive, and dead! 
 
 These, that survive, let Itonie reward vviih love ; 
 
 These, that I bring unto their latest home, 
 
 With burial aiiiongul their ancestors ; 
 
 Here (Joths have given me leave to sheath my sword. 
 
 Titus, nakind, and careless of thine own. 
 
 Why suHer'st thou thy s.ms, unburied yet. 
 
 To hover on the drearlful shore of Styx ? — 
 
 Make wr.y to lay them by their brethren. 
 
 {T/ie tomb is opened.) 
 riiere greet in silence, as the dead are \ront, 
 And sleep in peace, slain in your count'j'"s wars ! 
 O sacred receptacle ot ray joys, 
 Sweet cell of virtue and nobility. 
 How many sons of mine hast thou in store, 
 That thou wilt never render to me more i 
 
 Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, 
 Ad ?nane.s Jratrum sncndce his riesh, 
 That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile, 
 l^hat so the shadows be not tmappeas'd, 
 Before this earthly prison of thf'ir bones; 
 Nor we disturb'd with prodifjies on earth. 
 
 Tit. I give him you; the noblest that survives. 
 The eldest son of this distressed queen, 
 
 Tam. Stay, Roman brethren; — Gracious con- 
 queror, 
 Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
 A mother's tears in passion for her son : ' ' 
 
 And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
 O, think my son to be as dear to me. 
 Siifficeth not, that we are brought to Rome, 
 To beautify thy triumphs, and return. 
 Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; 
 But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets. 
 For valiant doiii^s in their coimtry s cause i 
 O ! if to fight for king and conmion-vveal 
 Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
 Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : 
 Wilt thoi) draw near the nature of tlie gods ? 
 Draw near them then in being merciful ; 
 Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge; 
 riirice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 
 
 Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. 
 These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld 
 Alive, and dead ; and lor their brethren slain. 
 Religiously tliey ask a sacrifice : 
 To this your son is mark'd ; and die he must, 
 To appe*e their groaning shadows that are gone. 
 
 Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight; 
 And with our swords, upon a pile of wood. 
 Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucius, Quinius, Martius, and 
 Mutius. with Alarbus. 
 
 Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety ; 
 
 (Jhi. Was everScytljia half so barbarous? 
 
 Dem, Oiipose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. 
 .Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive 
 To' tremble under Titus' threatening look. 
 Then, madam, stand resolv'd ; but hope withal. 
 The selfsame goils, that arm'd the queen of Troy 
 W ith opportimity of sharp revenge 
 Upon tlie Tliracian tyrant in his tent, 
 Mav favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, 
 (When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen,) 
 To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. 
 
 Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, andMuiivs, 
 tvith their swords bloody, 
 
 Luc. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd 
 Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, 
 And entrails feed the sacrificing fire. 
 Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. 
 llemRiiieth nought, but to inter our brethren. 
 And with loud 'lariims welcome them to Rome. 
 
 Til, Let it be so, and let Audronicus 
 
 Make this his latest farewe!! to their sonia. 
 
 {Trumpets sounded, and the ccfins laid 
 in the tomb.) 
 In peace and borour rest you here, my sons; 
 Rome's readiest champions, repose you here. 
 Secure from worldly chances and nushap.-* '. 
 Here lurks no treason, here no envy swelt.s. 
 Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms 
 No uoise, but silence and eternal sleep: 
 
 Enter Lavinia. 
 
 In peace and honour rest you here, my sons ! 
 
 Lav. In peace and boniuir live lord Titus loau ; 
 My noble lord and father, live in fame ! 
 Lo! at this tomb my tributary tears 
 I rerrder, lor my brethren's obsequies ; 
 And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy 
 Shed on ttie earth, for thy return to Rome: 
 O bless me here with thy victorious hand. 
 Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud. 
 
 Tit, Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd 
 llie cordial of mine age to glad my heart ! — 
 Lavinia, live ; outlive thy father's days. 
 And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise ! 
 
 Enter Marcus Andronicus, Saturninds, Bas- 
 SIANUS, and others. 
 
 Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved brother ; 
 Gracious triumplier in the eyes of Rome ! 
 
 Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Mar- 
 cus, [wars, 
 
 Mar. And welcome, nephews , from successful 
 You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. 
 Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, 
 TTiat in your country's service drew your swords : 
 But safer triumph is this funeral fwinp. 
 That had) aspir'd to Solon's happiness, 
 And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed. — 
 Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 
 Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, 
 Send thee by me, their tribune, and their trust, 
 This palliament of white and spotless hue ; 
 And name thee in election for the empire, 
 Witli these our late-deceased emperor's sous: 
 Be candidatus, then, and put it on. 
 And help to set a head on headless Rome. 
 
 Tit. A better head her glorious body fits, 
 Tlian his that shakes for age and feebleness : 
 W^hat! should I don this robe, and trouble you? 
 Be chosen with proclamations to day ; 
 To-morrow, yield up rule, resign my life. 
 And set abroad new business for you all ? 
 Rome, I have bi en thy soldier forty years. 
 And led ray country's strength successfully; 
 And buried one and twenty valiant sons. 
 Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, 
 In right and service of their noble country 
 Give me a staff' of honour for mine age, 
 But not a sceptre to control the world : 
 Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. 
 
 mar. Titus, thou slialt obtain and ask the empery. 
 
 Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst tbo 
 tell'!'— 
 
 Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine. 
 
 Sat. Romans, do me right ;— 
 
 Patricians, draVv your swords, and sheath them not 
 Till Satiirninus be Rome's emperor : — 
 Andronicus, 'would thou were sliipp'd to hell, 
 Rather than rob me of the people's hearts. 
 
 Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good 
 That noble-minded Titus means to tliee ! 
 
 Tit. Content thee, prince ; I will restore to tliee 
 The people's hearts, and v^ eau them from themselves. 
 
 Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee. 
 But honour thee, and will do, till I die ; 
 My faction, if thou strengthen with tliy friends, 
 I will most thankful be ; and thanks, to men 
 Of noble minds, is honourable meed. 
 
 Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes here 
 • ask your voices, and your suflVages; 
 
 42 
 
C58 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS, 
 
 Act I, 
 
 Will voa hesiow them friendly on Andronicus? 
 
 7Vi6. To gratify the good Andionicus, 
 Antl gratiilate his sale return to Rome, 
 'i'lie people will accept whom he admits. 
 
 Tit. Tribunes, I thank you : and this suit I make, 
 That you create your emperors eldest son, 
 Lord Saturnine ; whose virtues will, I hope, 
 Reflect on Rome, as 'i'itan's rays on earth. 
 Ana ripen justice in this common-weal : 
 Then il you will elect by my advice, 
 Crown him, and say,— Long live our emperor ! 
 
 Mar. With voices and applause ol' every sort. 
 Patricians, and plebeians, we create 
 Lord Saturninus, Rome's great emperor ; 
 And say, — Lo)ig live our emperor Saturnine! 
 
 {A lonij Jloiirisk.) 
 Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done 
 To us in our election this day, 
 I give thee tiianks in part of thy deserts. 
 And will with deeds requite thy gentleness : 
 And, for an onset, Titus, to advance 
 Thy name, and honourable family, 
 Lavinia will I make my emperess, 
 Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart. 
 And ill the sacred Pantheon her espouse : 
 Tell me, Andronicus, dutli this motion please thee . 
 Tit. It doth, my worthy lord ; and, in tliis match, 
 I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: 
 And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, — 
 King and commander of our common-weal. 
 The wide world's emperor, — do I consecrate 
 My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners ; 
 Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord : 
 Pieceive them then, the tribute tiiat I owe, 
 Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy ieet. 
 
 Sat. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life I 
 How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts, 
 Rome shall record ; and when I do forget 
 The least of these unspeakable deserts, 
 Romans, forget your fealty to me. 
 
 Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner tn an emperor : 
 
 {To Tamora.) 
 To him, that for your honour and your state. 
 Will use you nobly, and your followers. 
 
 Sat. A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue 
 That I would choose, were I to choose anew. — 
 Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance ; 
 Though chance of war hath wrought this change of 
 
 cheer, 
 Thon com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome : 
 Princely shdl be thy usage every way. 
 Rest on my word, and let not discontent 
 Daunt all your hopes ; Madam, he comforts you. 
 Can make you greater than the queen of Goths. — 
 Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this'? 
 Lav. Not I, my lord ; sith true nobility 
 Warrants these words in princely courtesy. 
 
 Sat. Thanks, sweet La\inia. — Romans, let us go; 
 Ransomless here, we set our prisoners tree : 
 Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. 
 Bos. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. 
 
 [Seizing Lavinia.) 
 Tit. How, sir? Are you in earnest then, my lord .' 
 Bus. Ay, noble Titus; and resolv'd withal. 
 To do myself this reason and this right, 
 
 [The Emperor courts Tamora in dumb shew.) 
 Mar. Suum cuique is our Roman justice : 
 This prince in justice seizeth but his own. 
 
 Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. 
 Tit. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's 
 guard ? 
 Treason, my lord ; Lavinia is surpris'd. 
 Sat. Surpris'd ! By whom ? 
 
 Bos. By him that justly may 
 
 Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. 
 
 I Exeunt Marcus and Bassianus, tvith Lavinia. 
 Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, 
 Awl with my sword I'll keep this door Siife. 
 
 [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and Martius. 
 T:t. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. 
 
 Mut. My lord, you oass not here. 
 Tit. " What, villain, boy'. 
 
 Barr'st me my way in Rome ? {Titus kills Mutiiis.) 
 Mut. Help, Lucius, help ! 
 
 Re enter LuciDS. 
 
 Luc. My lord, you are unjust; and, more t-han so, 
 In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. 
 
 Tit. Nor tlioii, nor he, are any sons of mine : 
 My sons would never so dishonour me : 
 Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 
 
 Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife. 
 That is another's lawlul promised love. [Exit. 
 
 Sat. No, Titus, no ; the emperor needs her uot. 
 Nor her, nor thee, nor any of tliy stock : 
 I'll trust by kisure him that mocks me once ; 
 Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, 
 Confederates a\l thus to dishonour me. 
 Was there none else in Rome to make a stale of. 
 But Stitarnine ? Full well, Andronicus, 
 Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine, 
 Tliat said'st, I begg'd the empire at thy hand. 
 Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words are 
 
 these ? 
 Sat. But go thy ways ; go, give that changing piece 
 To him that flourish'd for her witii his sword: 
 A valiant .son-in-law thou slialt enjoy ; 
 One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
 I'o ruflle in the commonwealth of Rome. 
 
 Tit. These words are razors to my wounded heart. 
 Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen oi 
 (-Jotiis, — 
 That, like the stati-ly Phoebe 'mongst her nymi;hs. 
 Dost oNcrstiine th« gallaiit'st dames of Rome, — 
 It tiiou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice. 
 Beheld, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, 
 And will create thee eiupfress of Rome. 
 Speak, queen of Goths, dost tiiou applaud my clioice ? 
 And hert I swear by all tlie Roman gods, — 
 Sith priest and holy water are .so near. 
 And tapers burn so biigiit, and every thing 
 In readiness tor Hymeueus stands, — 
 I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, 
 Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
 I lead espous'd my bride along with me. iBwear, 
 Tarn. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome i 
 If Saturnine advance the <|ueen of Goths, 
 She will a hand-maid be to his desin'S, 
 A lo\ing nurse, a mother to his youth. 
 Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon: — Lords, ac- 
 company 
 Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, » 
 Sent by the heavens for prince Saturnine, 
 Whose wisdom hath her iortane coiiquer'd : 
 There shall we consummate our spousal rites. 
 
 [Exeunt Saturninus. and his Followers ; Ta- 
 mora, and her Sons ; Aaron, and Goth*. 
 Tit. I am not bid to wait upon this bride • — 
 Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, 
 Disiionour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? 
 
 /?<;-e7j/er Marcus, Lucius, QuiNTUS.anc^MARTin. 
 
 3Tar. O, Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! 
 In a bad quarrel sb>in a virtuous son. 
 
 Tit. No, foolish tribune, no ; no son of mine,— 
 Nor thou, nor these, conlederates in the deed 
 That hath disiionour'd all our family : 
 Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons ! 
 
 Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes; 
 Give Miitius burial with our brethren. 
 
 Tit. Traitors, away ! he rests not in this tomb. 
 Tills monument five hundred years hath stood, 
 Which 1 have sumptuously re-edified : 
 Here none but soldw-rs, and Rome's servitors, 
 Repose in fame ; none basely slain in brawls : — 
 Bury him where you can, he comes not here. 
 
 Mar. My lord. Lliis is impiety in you : 
 My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him; 
 He must be buried with his brethren. [pauy 
 
 Quin. g" Mar. And shall, or him we will accoii»- 
 
Act 11. Scene 1. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 659 
 
 Tit. And shall? What villniu was it spoke that I 
 wtird ? 
 
 Qttin. Hf that would voiicirt iti any place hut here. 
 
 Til. What, would you bury hiiu in my despite? 
 
 Mar. No. noble I'itu.s : hut ciititat ol tliee 
 I'a pardon .Mutius, and to bury liiin. 
 
 Til. Marcus, e\en lliou hast struck upon my cre.st. 
 And, with these buys, mine honour thou hast 
 
 wounded : 
 My foes I do ri-pute you e\ery one : 
 So trouble uie no inori', but ijet yon ROne. 
 
 Mnr, He is not wiili hinisell ; let us withdraw. 
 
 Qitin. Not I, till -Mutius' hones be buried. 
 
 [Mfirrux ami l/ie nous of Tilitx hiwel.) 
 
 Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature jilead. 
 
 Quill. Father, and in that name doth nature speak. 
 
 Tit. S))eak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. 
 
 Mar. Itenowned Titus, more than hali'my soul, — 
 
 Luc. Dear father, sou! and substance of us all, — 
 
 Mar. Suller thy brother Marcus to inter 
 His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, 
 That died in honour and La\inia's cause. 
 Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. 
 The Greeks, upon ad\ice, did hiuy Ajax 
 That slew himself; and wise l^aeites' son 
 Did graciously plead for his funerals. 
 Let not yonii);; jVlutius then, that was thy joy. 
 Be h;\rr'd his entrance here- 
 
 TU. Rise, .Marcus, rise : — 
 
 Tiie dismall'st day is this, that e'er i saw, 
 'I'o be dishouour'd by my .sons iu Rome I — 
 \\ ell, bury him, and bury me the next. 
 
 (Muliu.s is ])til itilo tilt: tomb.) 
 
 Luc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy 
 ( I lends. 
 Till we with trophies do adorn thy toiub I — 
 
 All. No luan shed tears for noble Mutius: 
 He lives in lame, that died iu virtue's cause. 
 
 Mar. My lord, — to step out of these dreary 
 diuups, — 
 How cojues it, that the subtle queen of fJoths 
 Is of a sudden thus advaucd in Rome'!" 
 
 Til. I know not, Marcus; but, I know, it is; 
 V\ hellier by device, or no, the heavens can tell : 
 Is she not then beholden to the man 
 That broufjilt her (or this high good turn so far? 
 ^ es, and will nobly him remunerate. 
 
 Flourish. Re-enter al one side, SATfKNfNUS, 
 attended; Tamora, Chikon, De.metrils, and 
 Aakon : At the other, Bassiam's, Lavinia, and 
 others. 
 
 Sat. So Bassianus, you have play'd your prize ; 
 God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride. 
 
 liai. And you of yours, my lord: I say no more. 
 Nor wish no less: and so I take my leave. 
 
 Sal. Traitor, if Rome have l.ivv,or we have power, 
 'I'hiui and thy faction shall repent this rape. 
 
 Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, 
 My true-betrothed love, and now my wife'/ 
 But let the laws of Rome determine all : 
 Mean while I am possess'd of (hat is mine. 
 
 Sat. Tis good, sir: ^'ou are very short witii us; 
 But, if we live, well be as sharp with you. 
 
 Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I may. 
 Answer I must, and shall do with my life. 
 Only this nmch I give your grace to know,— 
 By all the duties which i owe to Rome, 
 Tills noble gentleman, lord 'I'itus here, 
 Is in opinion, and in honour, wrong 'd; 
 That, in the rescue of Lavinia, 
 With his own hand did slay his youngest son, 
 Fn zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath 
 To be coHtrolId in that he frankly gave : 
 Receive him then to favour. .Saturnine; 
 That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds, 
 A father, and a frieml, to thee, and Rome. 
 
 Til. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead niy deeds; 
 Tis thou, and those, that have disbonoiir'd me : 
 Rome and the righte.ous heavens be my judge. 
 
 How I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine » 
 
 Tarn. My worthy lord, if ever 'I'ajuora 
 Were gracious in tliose princely eyes of thine. 
 Then hear me speak indillerently of all ; 
 -And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. 
 
 Sal, What I madam 1 be dishonour'd openly. 
 And basely put it up without revenge ? [teal, 
 
 Tavi. Not so, my lord; 'l"he gods of Rome iatn- 
 I should be author to dishonour you ! 
 Hut, on my honour, dare I undertake 
 l'"or good lord Titus' innocence in all, 
 W hose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefa : 
 Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; 
 Lose not so noble a (rieud on vain suppose. 
 Nor with sour looks alllict his gentle heart. — 
 -My lord, be rul'd by me, be won at last, 
 Dissemble all your griefs and discontents : 
 Voii are but newly (ilanted in yourthrone ; 
 Lest then the people, and patricians too, 
 L'pon a just survey, take Titus' part, 
 .And so supplant us for ingratitude, 
 (W hich Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,) 
 ^ ield at entreats, and then let me alone: y Aside. 
 I'll liiid a day to massacre them all, 
 And raze their fiction, and their family, 
 The cruel father, and his traitorous sons, 
 To whom I sued for my de.ir son's life ; 
 -And make them know, what 'lis to let a 
 
 ((uetii [vain.- 
 
 Kneel iu the streets, and beg for grace in, 
 Come, come, sweet emperor, — come, Aiidrouicus,^ 
 'I'ake up this good old man, and cheer the heart 
 That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. 
 
 Sat. Rise, 'I'itus, rise ; my empress hath prevail'd. 
 
 Til. I thank jour majesty, and her, my lord: 
 These words, these looks, inluse new lile in me. 
 
 Tain. Titus, i am incorporate to Rome, 
 .A Roman now adopted h.i|)pily, 
 -\iid must advise the emperor lor his good. 
 This day all ipiarrels die, .\ndroiiicns ; — 
 -And let it he mine honour, good my lord, 
 That I h:ive reconcil'd your Iriends and yotl,-~- 
 l''or you, prince Bassiaiiiis, I have pass'd 
 My word and promise to the emperor 
 Tliat you will be more mild and tractable.— 
 -And lear not, lords, — and you, Lavinia; — 
 By my advice, all humbled on your knees, 
 Vou shall ask pardon ol' his majesty. (highnegd 
 
 Luc. We do; and vow to heaven, and to hit 
 That, what we did, was mildly as we miglit, 
 Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own. 
 
 Mar. That, on mine honour, here I do protest. 
 
 Sat. Away, and talk not ; trouble us no more. — 
 
 Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be 
 friends : 
 The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; 
 1 will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back. 
 
 Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, 
 And at my lovely Taniora's entreats, 
 I do remit these yoiiu^ men's heinous faults. 
 Stand iip. 
 
 Lavinia, though you left nie like a churl, 
 I found a friend ; and sure as death I swore, 
 I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 
 Come, if the emperor's court can feast tvco brides, 
 \m\ are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends: 
 This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. 
 
 Tit. To-morrow, au it please your majesty, 
 To liiint the panther, and the hart with nie, 
 With horn and hound, we'll give your grace ion- 
 
 jour. 
 Sal. Be it so, Titus, and graniercy too. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. Before the Palace^ 
 
 Enter Aaron. 
 
 Aar. Now climheth Tamora Olympus' top, 
 Sale out of fortune's shot ; and sits aloft, 
 Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash; 
 
660 
 
 TITUS ANDROXICUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Advanr'd ;ibove pale envy's threat'niiig reach, 
 As when the golden sun salutes the morn, 
 And lia\ ing gilt the ocean with his beams, 
 Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach. 
 And overlooks the highest-peering hills j 
 So, Taniura. — 
 
 Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, 
 And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. 
 Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts, 
 'J'o mount aloft with tliy imperial mistress, 
 And mount her pitch ; wiiom thou in triumph long 
 Hast prisoner held, i'etter'd in amorous chains ; 
 And faster bound to Aarou's charming eyes. 
 Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
 Away with slavish weeds, and idle tlioughts ! 
 I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, 
 To wait upon this new-made emperess. 
 To wait, said 1 ? to wanton with this queen. 
 This goddess, this Seniiramis ;— this queen. 
 This syren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, 
 And see his shipwreck, and his commonweal's. 
 Holla ! what storm is this ? 
 
 Enter Chiron and Demetrius, braving. 
 
 Detn. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants 
 edge, 
 And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd ; 
 And may, for aught thou knovv'st, affected be. 
 
 Chi. Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all ; 
 And so in this to bear me down with braves. 
 "Tis not the differepce of a year, or two. 
 Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate : 
 I am as able, and as fit, as thou. 
 To serve, and to deserve my mistress' love. 
 And that my sword upon thee shall approve. 
 And plead my passions for Lavinia"s love. 
 
 Aar. Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the 
 peace. 
 
 Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, 
 Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side. 
 Are you so desperate grown, to threat yonr friends ? 
 Go to ; have your lath glued witliin your sheath. 
 Till yon know fetter how to handle it. 
 
 C/iL Mean while, sir, with the little skill I have 
 Full well shalt thon perceive how much I dare. 
 
 j)em. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave ? ( T/iey draw.) 
 
 Aar. VVhy, how now, lords. 
 
 So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, 
 And maintain such a quarrel openly? 
 Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge; 
 I would not for a million of gold. 
 The cause were known to them it most concerns : 
 Nor woidd your noble mother, for much more, 
 Bt so dishonour'd in the court of Rome. 
 For shame, put up. 
 
 Bern. Not I ; till I have sheath'd 
 
 Mv rapier in his bosom, and, wiihal, 
 Tlirnst these reproachful speeches doa'n his throat, 
 That he hath breath'd m my dishonour here. 
 
 C'/ii. I'^Jr that I am prepar'tl and full resolv'd, — 
 Foul-spoken coward ! that thnnder'st with thy tongue, 
 And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perforin. > 
 
 Anr. Away, I say. — 
 Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore. 
 This petty brabble will undo us all. — 
 Why, liTds, — and think you not how dangerous 
 If is to jut upon a prince's right ? 
 What, is Lavinia then become so loose. 
 Or I5rtssi:inus so degenerate, 
 
 That fur her love such quiirrels may be broacli'd, 
 Wif.ho;it controlment, justice, or revenge? 
 Youi.fj lords, beware I — an should the empress knove 
 Thi-^ discord's ground, the music would not please. 
 
 Chi I care not, I, knew slie and all the world ; 
 I live Lavinia more than all the world. [choice : 
 
 U^m. Vounsling, learn th)u to make some meaner 
 Laviiin it thiae elder hroliier's hopp. 
 
 A'lr. Why, are ye mad ' or know ye not, in Rome 
 H">v\ (^'rio^js anil impaiient they be, 
 \ua ^ aniiol brook competitors in love ? 
 
 I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths 
 By this device. 
 
 Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths 
 
 Would I propose to achieve her v/hom I love 
 
 Aar. To achieve her! — How ? 
 
 Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange? 
 
 She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
 She is a woman, therefore may be won ; 
 She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. 
 What, man ! more water glideth by the mill 
 Thau wots the miller of; and easy it is 
 Of a cut loaf to steal a sliive, we know : 
 Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
 Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge. 
 
 Aar. Ay, and as good as Satmninus may. (Aside.', 
 
 Dem. Then why should he despair, that ki:ow3 
 to court it 
 With words, fair looks, anil liberality ? 
 What, hast thou not full olten struck a doe. 
 And boriip her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 
 
 Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch o( 
 Would serve your turns. [so 
 
 Chi. Ay, so the turn were serv'd. 
 
 Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. 
 
 Aar. 'Would you had hit it too; 
 
 Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. 
 Why, hark ye, hark ye, — ."^nd are you such fools 
 To square for this ? Would it otfend you then 
 That both should speed ? 
 
 Chi. 1 'faith, not me. 
 
 Dem. Nor me 
 
 So 1 were one. 
 
 Aar. For shame, be friends ; and join for that you 
 jar. 
 'Tis policy and stratagem must do 
 That you affect ; and so must you resolve : 
 That what you cannot, as you would, achieve. 
 You must perforce accomplish as you may. 
 Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chaste 
 'I'han this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. 
 A sjjeedier course than longering languishinent 
 Must we pursue, and I have ibuitd the path 
 My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; 
 There will the lovely Roman ladies troop; 
 The forest walks are wide and spacious ; 
 And many unfrequented plots there are, 
 Fitted by kind for rape and villany : 
 Single you tliither then this dainty doe. 
 And strike her home by force, if not by words; 
 This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
 Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit, 
 'J'o V iilany and vengeance consecrate, 
 Will we acquaint with all that we intend ; 
 And she shall file our engines with advice. 
 That will not suli'er you to square yourselves. 
 But to your wishes' height advance you both. 
 'I^he emperor's court is like the honse of fame. 
 The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of ears : 
 'J'he woods are ruthless, dreadlnl, deaf and dull; 
 There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take yooi 
 
 turns : 
 There serve your lust, shadovv'd from heaven's eye, 
 And revel in Lavinia's treasury. 
 
 Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. 
 
 De?n. Sit fas aid nefas, till 1 find the stream 
 To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. 
 Per Slyya, per manes vehor. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene H. — A Forest near Rome. A Lodge seen 
 at n distance. Horns, and cry of houndi 
 heard. 
 Enter Thus Andronicus, ivith Hunters, §*4 
 Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, «rtc/ iMartius. 
 Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright aed grey. 
 The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green: 
 Uncouple here, and let us make a bay. 
 And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, 
 And rouse the prince; and ring a hunter's pea!, 
 'I'hat all the court may echo with the noise. 
 Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONTCUS. 
 
 *GG1 
 
 To fend the emperor's person carefully : 
 I have been troubled in tny sleep tiiis ni^'ht. 
 But dawning day nvw corn/'ort liath in.spir'd. 
 
 Horns wind a peal. AV.if^r Satukninus. Tamoka, 
 
 Bassianus, Lavinia , Chikon, DeiMetrius, and 
 
 A ftendtints. 
 
 Tit. Miiny Rood-morrows to your majesty ; — 
 Madiini, to yon as many and as Sfood. 
 I promised your grace a hunter's peal. 
 
 Sat. And you have runa; it histily, my lords, ^ 
 Somewhat too early for new-married ladles. 
 , Brw. Lavinia, how say you ? 
 
 Lav. I say, no ; 
 
 I ))ave been broad avcake two hours and more. 
 
 Sat. Come on then ; hoi se and chariots let us have, 
 And to our sport: — Madam, now s.'iall ve sne 
 Our Roman hunting. {To Tamora.) 
 
 Mar. \ have dosjs, my lord. 
 
 Will roiisp the proudest panther in the chase, 
 And climb thv hi^ihest promon(')ry top. 
 
 Tit. And I have horse will follow «here the a:ame 
 Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. 
 
 Detn. [Aside) Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse i 
 nor hound. 
 But hope to plnck a dainty d(>e to groun<l. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A desert Part of the Forest. 
 Enter Aaron, ivilh a hn<j tif gold. 
 Aar. He that had wit, wonid think tliut I had none. 
 To bury so much gold under a tree, 
 And never after to inherit it. 
 Iiet him, that thir'ks of me so abjectly. 
 Know, that this fold mwst coin a stratagem; 
 Which, cunningly effected, will beget 
 A very excellent piece of villany : 
 And 30 repose, sweet gold, for their unrest. 
 That have their alms out of the empress' chest. 
 
 [Hides the gold.) 
 Enter T\MOR,\.. 
 Tarn. IVly iov<;ly Aaron, wheref()!-e look'st thou 
 
 sad, 
 When every thing doth make a gleeful boast ? 
 The birds chaunt nselody on evvry bush ; 
 The snake lies rolled m the cheerful sun ; 
 The green Ie:ives quiver wiih (he cooling wind, 
 And make a checquer'd shadow on the ground : 
 Under Ihoir sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit. 
 And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds; 
 Replying shrilly to the well tund horns. 
 As il a double hunt were heard at once, — 
 Let us sit down, and tna'k ihoir yellinu noise: 
 _S.n<\ — after conflict, such as was siif)p()s'd 
 The wandering prince and Dido once enjuy'd. 
 When with a happy storm (hey were surpris'd. 
 And cnrtain'd with a counsel keeping cave, — 
 We may, each wreathed in the others arms, 
 Our pasti'iies done, possess a gulden slumber; 
 Whilst houndn, end horns, and sweet inekJious 
 
 birds, 
 Be utito us, as is a nurse's song 
 Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep, 
 
 Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, 
 Saturn is dnminator over mine : 
 What sigiufies my deadly-standing eye, 
 My silence, and my cloudy melancholy ? 
 My fierce of woolly liair that now imcurls, 
 Even .is an adder, when she dotli u«roH 
 To do some fatal execiUioii? 
 No, madans, these are no venereal signs; 
 Vengeance is in rny heart, death in my hand. 
 Blood and revenge are hamuier*ng in my head. 
 Hark, Tarnora, — the empress i.f my soul. 
 Which never hopes more heaven thuu rests in 
 
 thee, — 
 This is the day of doom for Bassianus; 
 His Philomel must lose her toniiue to-<lay : 
 Thy sons make pillage of her chastity. 
 And \/asti their hands in Bassianus' blood. 
 Seest thou this letter? take it up I pray thee. 
 
 And' give the king this fatal plotted scroll : — 
 Now questiiiTi me no more, Wf* are espied ^ 
 Here comes a parcel of our ho|)ef!iI booty. 
 Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction, 
 7'rt7H. Ah. my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than 
 life. ; 
 Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes: 
 De cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons 
 To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. (i?arif. 
 
 Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. 
 
 Bos, Whom have we here? Rome's rojal c*p- 
 press, 
 Unifurnislrd of her well beseeming tro<>,' '' 
 Or is it Dian, h.ibited like her. 
 Who hath abandtmed her holy groves. 
 To see the general hunting in this forest? 
 
 Lnv. Saucy controller of our private steps. 
 Had 1 the power, that, some say, Dian had, 
 Thy temples shoidd be planted presently 
 With horns, as was Actseon's; and the hounds 
 Should drive upon thy new-trans(brraed limbs, 
 Unmannerly intruder as thou art! 
 
 Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 
 'Tis tho^ight you have a goodly gift in horning ; 
 And to hv doubted, that your Moor and you 
 Are singled forth to try experiments : 
 Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 
 'Tis pity, they should take hiiii for a stag, 
 
 Bas, iJelieve me, queen, your swarth Cimmeriaa 
 Doth make your honour of his body's hue, 
 Spotled.,detested, and abominable. 
 Why are you sequester'd from all your train ? 
 Dismounted fi-om your snow-white goodly steed 
 And wander'd hither (o an obscure plot, 
 Acconipanied with a barbarous Moor, 
 If foul desire had not tondiicttd you ? 
 
 Lnv. And; beinp iiiterccpted iri your sport. 
 Great reason that uiy noble ord be rated 
 For sauciness. — I pray you, let us hence. 
 And let her 'joy her ravencolour'd love ; 
 This va'k-y fits tiie purpose passing well. 
 
 Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note oi 
 this. 
 
 Lav. -Ay, for these slips have made him noted 
 long : 
 Good king! to he so mightily abus'd ! 
 
 Turn. Why have I patience to endure all this? 
 
 Enter CnmoN and Demetrius. 
 
 Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our jra- 
 eious mother. 
 Why does your highness look so pale and wan? 
 
 Tarn. Have I not reason, think you, to look p:tie ? 
 These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place, 
 A barren detested vale, yoy see, it is : 
 The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
 O'ercome with moss, and baleftd misletoe. ^ 
 
 Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, 
 Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 
 .4 nd' when. they shew'd me this abhorred pit. 
 They told me here, at dead time of the night, 
 \ thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
 'IVn tliou.sand swelling toads, as many urchins. 
 Would make such fearful and confused ciiies, 
 As any mortal body, hearing it. 
 Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. 
 No sodoer had they (old this hellish tale. 
 But straight thoy told me, they would bind me htro 
 Unto the bo<ly of a dismal yew; 
 And leave me to this miserable death. 
 And then they cali'd me, iiiul adulteress. 
 Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms 
 That ever ear did hear to such effect. 
 And, had you hot by wondrous fortune corae.. 
 This vengeance on me had Iney executed. 
 Revenge it, as you love your mothers lile. 
 Or be ye not from henceforth cali'd my children. 
 
 Dem. This is a witness that 1 am tliy so>i. 
 
 [Stabs H<Mstanu«.' 
 
662 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Chi, KnA this for me, sfnict home to shew my 
 strength. [Slabbing him likewise.) 
 
 Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis, — nay, barbarous Ta- 
 mora ! 
 For no name fits thy nature but thy own ! 
 
 Tarn. Give me thy poniard ; you shall know, my 
 boys, 
 Vour mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. 
 Dem. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her; 
 First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw; 
 This minion stood upon her chastity, 
 bpon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, 
 And with that painted hope braves your niigliti- 
 
 ness : 
 And shall she carry this unto her grave ? 
 
 Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. 
 Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, 
 .\Dd make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. 
 
 Tarn. But when you have the honey you desire, 
 Let not this wasp out-live, us both to sting. 
 Chi. I warrant you, madam ; we will make that 
 sure. — 
 Come mistress, now perforce we will enjoy 
 That nice-preserved honesty of yours. 
 
 Lav. O Tamora I thou bear'st a woman's face, — 
 Tarn. I will not hear her speak ; a^.'ay with her. 
 Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a 
 
 word. 
 Dftn. Listen, fair madam : Let it be your glory 
 To see her tears ; but be your heart to them. 
 As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. 
 Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach the 
 dam? 
 O, do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee : 
 The milk thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble ; 
 Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny — ■ 
 Yet every mother breeds not sons alike; 
 Do thou entreat her shew a woman pity. 
 
 {.To Chiron.) 
 Chi. What! would'st thou have me prove my- 
 self a bastard ? 
 Lav, 'Tis true ; the raven doth not hatch a lark : 
 Yet I have heard, (O could I find it now!) 
 The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure 
 To have his princely paws par'd all away. 
 Some gay, that ra\ens foster forlorn children. 
 The whilst their own birds famish in their nesfs ; 
 O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
 Nothing so kind, but something pitiful. 
 
 Tarn. I know not what it means ; away with her. 
 
 Lav. O, let me teach thee I for my father's sake. 
 
 That gave thee life, when well he might have slain 
 
 thee. 
 Be not obdurate, upon thy deaf ears. 
 
 Tarn. Had'st then in person n^'er offended me. 
 Even for his sake am I pitiless : — 
 Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, 
 To save your brother from the sacrifice ; 
 But fierce Androniciis would not relent: 
 Therefore away with her, and use her as you will; 
 The worse to her, the better lov'd of me. 
 
 Lav. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen. 
 And vyith thine own hands kill me in this place : 
 For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long; 
 Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died. 
 
 Tarn. What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let 
 me go. [more. 
 
 Lav. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing 
 That womanhood denies my tonjiue to tell: 
 O, keej) me from their worse than killing lust, 
 And tumble me into some loathsome pit : 
 Where never man's eye may behold my body: 
 Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 
 
 Tarn. 80 should 1 rob my sweet sons of their fee : 
 rso, let them satisfy their lust on thee. 
 
 Uem. Auay, for thou hast staid us here too long. 
 Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly 
 creature. 
 The blot and enemy to our general name! 
 Conlusion fall — 
 
 Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your luoutb : — Bring 
 
 thou her husband ; [Draijging offLavinia.) 
 This is tiie hole where Aaron bid us hide him. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Tam. Farewell, my sons: see, that you make 
 her sure : 
 Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed. 
 Till all the Andronici be made away. 
 Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, 
 And let my spleenful sons this trull deflour. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. 
 Enter Aaron, with Quintus and Marhus. 
 
 Aar. Come on, my lord ; the better foot before: 
 Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, 
 Where I espied the panther fast asleep. 
 
 Quin. IV'ly sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. 
 
 Mart. And mine, I promise you; wei't not for 
 shame. 
 Well could 1 leave our sfK>rt to sleep awlijle. 
 
 [Martius falls into the pit.) 
 
 Qttin. What, art thou fallen ? What subtle hole 
 is this, 
 W^hose moi:th is cover'd with rude growing briars; 
 Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood. 
 As fresli as morning's dew distill'd on tlowers? 
 A very fatal place it seems to me : — 
 Spt-ak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall ? 
 
 Mart. O brother, with the dismallest object 
 That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament. 
 
 Aar. [Aside.) Now will I fetch the king to find 
 them here ; 
 That he thereby may give a likely guess, 
 How these were they that made away his brother. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help n»« 
 out 
 From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? 
 
 Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear: 
 A diilling sweat o'er-nuis my trembling joints; 
 My heart suspects more than njine eye can see. 
 
 Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, 
 Aaron and thou look down into this den. 
 And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 
 
 Quin. Aaron is gone ; and my comp,-)ssionat« 
 heart 
 Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
 The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise: 
 O, tell me how it is ; for ne'er till now 
 Was I a child, to fear I know not what. 
 
 Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here. 
 All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb. 
 In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. 
 
 Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he ? 
 
 Mart, Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
 A precious ring, that lightens all the hole. 
 Which, like a taper in some mon\iment, 
 l>oth shine upon the dead man's earthly cheeky. 
 And shews the ragged entrails of this pit: 
 So pale did shine the moon on Py ramus. 
 When he by night lay batli'd in maiden blood. 
 
 brother, help me with thy fainting hand, — 
 If (ear hatli made thee faint, as me it hath, — 
 Out of this fell devouring receptacle. 
 
 As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. 
 
 Quin. Reach me thy hand, tiiat I may help the« 
 out; 
 Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 
 
 1 may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb 
 Of tliis deep pit, poor bassianus' grave. 
 
 I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 
 Marl. Nor 1 no strength to climb without thy 
 help. la.^ain, 
 
 Quin. Thy hand once more ; I will not loose 
 Till thou art here aloft, or I below : 
 Thou canst not come to roe, I come to thee. 
 
 [Fallt in.) 
 
 Enter Saturninus and Aaron. 
 Sat. Along with lue : — I'll see what hole is here. 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 663 
 
 And what he is, that now is U'ap'd into it. — 
 Say, who att thou, that lately didst descend 
 Into this gaping hollow of the earth? 
 
 Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus; 
 Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, 
 To find thy brother Bassiai:us dead. 
 
 Sat. My brother dead ? I know, thou dost but 
 jest; 
 He and his lady both are at the lodge, 
 Upon the north side of this pleasant chase ; 
 ''I"is not an hour since I left him there. 
 
 Mart. V\'e know not where you left him ail alive, 
 But, out alas! here have we found him dead. 
 
 Enter Taaioka, tvith Attendants; Titus Andro- 
 nicus, atid Lucius. 
 
 Tarn. Where is my lord the king ? 
 
 Sat. Here, Tamora ; though griev"d with killing 
 grief. 
 
 Tarn. Where is thy brother Bassianus ? 
 
 Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search iny 
 wound ; 
 Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. 
 
 Tarn. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, 
 
 (Giving a letter.) 
 The complot of this timeless trageciy ; 
 And wonder greatly that man's face can fold 
 In pleasinu smiles such murderous tyranny. 
 
 Sat. {Reads.) An if we miss to rtieet him hand- 
 somely, — 
 Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis, we mean, — 
 Do thou 60 much as dig the grave for him; 
 Thou know'st our meaning : Look for thy reward 
 Among the nettles at the elder tree. 
 Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, 
 Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. 
 Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. 
 O, Tamora ! was ever heard the like '! 
 'I'liis is the pit, and this the eider-tree. 
 L(M)k, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out. 
 That should have murder'd Bassianus here. 
 
 Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. 
 
 (Shewing it.) 
 
 Sat. Two of thy whelps, {to Tit.) M[ curs of 
 bloody kind. 
 Have here bereft my brother of his life : — 
 Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; 
 There let them bide, until we have devis'd 
 Some never-lieard-of torturing pain for them. 
 
 Tarn. What, are they in this pit ? O wond'rons 
 thing ! 
 How easily iiuirder is discovered ! 
 
 Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee 
 I beg this boon, with tears nut lightly shed. 
 That this fell fault of my accursed sons. 
 Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, — 
 
 Sat. If it be prov'd! you see, it is apparent. — 
 Who found this letter ? Tamora, was it you ? 
 
 Tarn. Andnmicus himself did take it up. 
 
 Tit. I did, my lord : yet let me be their bail: 
 For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow. 
 They shall be ready at your highness' will, 
 'J\> answer their suspicion with their lives. 
 
 Sat. Thou shalt not bail them ; see, thou follow 
 me. 
 Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: 
 Let them not speak a word, tiie guilt is plain ; 
 l-'or, by my soul, were there worse end than death. 
 That cud upon them should be executed. 
 
 Tarn. Andnmicus, I will entreat the king; 
 Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. 
 
 Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with 
 tiieui. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene V. — The satne. 
 
 Enter Demetrius rtwrf Chiron, with Lavinia, ra- 
 vished ; her hands cut off and her tongue cut out. 
 Dem. So. now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak. 
 Who 'twas that cut thy tougu<:, and ravish'd thee. 
 
 Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaa 
 ing so ; 
 And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. 
 
 De}n. See, how with signs and tokens she can 
 scowl. (hand*. 
 
 Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy 
 
 Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to 
 wash ; 
 And so let's leave her to her silent walks. 
 
 Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang my- 
 self. 
 
 Dent. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit tb«; 
 cord. [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. 
 
 Enter Marcus. 
 
 Mar. VVho's this, — my niece, that flies away so 
 
 fast ? 
 Cousin, a word ; where is your husband ? — 
 If I do dream, 'would all my wealth would wake 
 
 me ! 
 If I do wake, some planet strike me down, 
 That I may slumber in eternal sleep! 
 Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands 
 Have lo p'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bar 
 Ot her two branches '! those sweet ornaments. 
 Whose circling shadows kings have sought to 
 
 sleep in; 
 And might not gain so great an happiness, 
 As half tliy love ? Why dost not speak to me ? — 
 .^las, a crimson river of warm blood. 
 Like to a bubbling fountaiti stirr'd with wind. 
 Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, 
 Coming and going with thy honey breath. 
 But, sure, some 'i'erens hath detlour'd thee ; 
 And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue. 
 Ah ! now thou turn'st away thy face lor slianie ! 
 And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — 
 As from a conduit with tiiree issuing spouts,— 
 Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, 
 Blushing to be enrounter'd with a cloud. 
 Shall 1 speak for thee? siiall 1 say, 'tis so? 
 O, that I knew tliy heart ; and knew the beast, 
 Tliat I might rail at him to ease my mind I 
 Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, 
 Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 
 Fair Fhilomela, she but lost her tongue. 
 And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind : 
 But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; 
 .\ craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, 
 .\nd he hath cut those (.retty fingers off. 
 That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 
 O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
 Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, 
 And make the silken strings rlelight to kiss them r 
 He would not tlien have touch'd tliem for his life : 
 Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, 
 Which that sweet tongue hath made. 
 He would have droppd his knite, and fell asleep, 
 -■^s Cerberus at the 1 hracian poet's feet. 
 Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : 
 For such a sight will blind a Jlither's eye : 
 One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ; 
 W hat will whole months of tears thy father's eyes :' 
 Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; 
 O, could our mourning ease thy misery ! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene \.—Rome. A Street. 
 
 Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, 
 
 with Maktius and Quintus. bound, passing on 
 
 to the place of execution ; Titus going before 
 
 pleading. ' 
 
 Tit. Hear me, grave fathers ! noble tribunes, stay! 
 For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 
 In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; 
 For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel she'd* 
 For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; 
 And for these bitter tears, which now you tee 
 Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks j 
 
C64 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Re pitiful to my condemned sons. 
 Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis tliought! 
 For two and twenty sons I never wept, 
 Beciiuse they died in lionoiir's lofty bed. 
 For these, tiiese tribunes, in the dust I write 
 
 (TArotving himself on the ground.) 
 Mjr heart's deep languor, and my soul's s.id tears. 
 Let my tears staunch tlie earth's dry appetite ; 
 My sons' sweet blood will make it shatiie and blush. 
 [Exeunt Sen., Trib., §'c. with the prisoners. 
 Dearth, 1 will befriend thee more with rain, 
 That shall distil from these two ancient urns. 
 Than youthful April shall wiih all his showers: 
 In summer's drought. I'll dm ^ upon tiice still ; 
 In winter, witli warui tears I'll melt the snow, 
 And keep eternal spring-tiuie on thy f;ice, 
 So tliou refuse to drmk my dear sons' blood. 
 
 Enter Lucius tvith his sivard drawn. 
 
 O, reverend tribunes! fjentle aged men! 
 Unbind my suns, reverse the d'«om ol death ; 
 And let me s;iy, that never wept befiu-e. 
 My tears are now pre \ ailing orators, 
 
 Luc. O, noljle father, you lament in vain ; 
 The tribunes hear you net, no man is by, 
 And you recv>unt your sorrows to a stone. 
 
 Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead: 
 Grave tribunes, once nioie 1 entreat of yoi. 
 
 Luc. My g-racious lord, no tribune hears you 
 speak. 
 
 Tit. Wtiy, 'tis no matter, man : if they di(l hear, 
 They vvoul I not mark me ; or, if they did mark, 
 All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. 
 Therefore I tell n)y sorrows to the stones ; 
 VVho, though they cannot answer my distress, 
 Vrt, in some sort, they're better than the tribunes, 
 For that they will not intercept my tale : 
 When I do weep, thev humbly at my feet 
 Receive mv tears and seem to weep with me ; 
 And, were they but attired in grave weeds, 
 Uome could afford no tribune like to these. 
 A stone is solt as wax, tribunes more hard than 
 
 stones : 
 A stone is silent, and otTendeth not; , 
 And tribunes with their tongues doom men to 
 death. [drawn':" 
 
 But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon 
 
 Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death : 
 For which attempt, the judges have pronounc'd 
 My everlasting doom of banishment. 
 
 Tit. O happy man ! they have befriended thee. 
 Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive. 
 That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers ? 
 Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey, 
 But me and mine : How hapoy art thou then. 
 From these devourers to be nanished 'I 
 But who comes with our brother Marcus here ? 
 
 E}iter Makcus and Latinia. 
 
 Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep; 
 Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break ; 
 I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 
 
 Tit. Will it consume me ? let me see it then. 
 
 Mar. This was thy daughter. 
 
 Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 
 
 Luc. Ah me! tlfis object kills me ! 
 
 Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her:-»— 
 Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand 
 Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? 
 What foul hath added water to the sea i 
 Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? 
 My grief was at the height before tliou cam'st, 
 And now, like Nil us, it disdaineth bounds. — 
 (rive me a sword, I'll chop oti'iliy hands too; 
 For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; 
 And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life ; 
 (u bootltss prayer have they been held up. 
 And they have serv'd me to elfectless use : 
 Now, all tlie service 1 require of them 
 Isjtliat the one will help to cut the other. — 
 
 Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hand.<4; 
 For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 
 
 Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd 
 thee ? 
 
 Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts. 
 That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence. 
 Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage ; 
 Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
 Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! 
 
 Luc. O, say thou f()r her, who hath done thi4 
 deed i 
 
 Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, 
 Seeking to hide herself; as doth tlie deer, 
 That hath receiv'd some unrecuruig wound. 
 
 Tit. It was my deer; and he, that wounded her. 
 Hath hurt me more, than had he killd uie dead: 
 For now I stand as one upon a rock, 
 Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; 
 Who marks ti>e waxing tide grow wave by v*aV8j 
 ExiJectiiig ever when some envious surge 
 Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
 This way to death my wretched sons are gone : 
 Here stands my other son, a banisii'd man; 
 And here my brother, weeping at my woes; 
 But that, which gives iny soul the greatest spurn. 
 Is dear Lavinia, dearer tlian my soul. — 
 Had I hut seen thy picture in tliis pliglit. 
 It would have madded me : What shall I do 
 Now I behold thy lively body so? 
 'J'hou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears; 
 Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: 
 Thy Imsband he is dead ; and, lor his death, 
 Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this: — 
 Look, Marcus ! ah, son Lucius, look on her ! 
 When I did name her brothers, tiien fresh tears 
 Stood (m her cheeks; as doth the honey dew 
 Upon a gathei^d lily almost wither'd. 
 
 Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd 
 her husband : 
 Perchance, because she knows them innocent. 
 
 Tit. if they did kill thy husband, then be jovfnl. 
 Because the law hath ta'eu revenge on them. — 
 No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; 
 Witjiess the sorrow that their sister makes. — 
 Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips; 
 Or make some signs bow I may do thee ease : 
 Shall tliy good uncle, and thy brother Ijucius, 
 And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain ; 
 Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks 
 How tiiey are staind ? Like meadows, yet not lirv 
 With miry slime left on them by a flood '! 
 And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, 
 'i'ill the fresh taste be taken from that clearness. 
 And made a brine pit with our bitter tears'/ 
 Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? 
 Or slwll we bite our tongues, and in dumb shews 
 Pass the remainder of our hateful days ? 
 What shall we do ? let us, that have our tongues, 
 Plot some device of further misery. 
 To make us wonder'd at in time to come. 
 
 Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears ; for, at youi^ 
 
 grief. 
 See. how my wretched sister sohs and wee^s. 
 
 Mar. Patience, dear niece : — Good Titus, di7 
 thine eyes. 
 
 Tit. All, Marcus, Marcus ! brotlier, well I wol, 
 Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine. 
 For thou, poor mau. hast drown'd it witli thine owix 
 
 hue. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe tlry cheeks. 
 
 Tit. J^lark, Maicus, mark! I understand her 
 signs : 
 Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say 
 'I'hat to her brother whicii I said to thee ; 
 His napkin, with his true tears all bewet. 
 Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. 
 O, what a sympatliy ol woe is tins '. 
 As far from iielp as limbo is from blisai 
 
 Enter Aaron. 
 Aar. Titus Androuicus, my lord Uie emperor 
 
 1 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 665 
 
 Sends thee tliis word, — That, if thmi h)ve thy sons. 
 
 Let Marcus, Ijiiciiis, or tliyself, old 'I'itiis, 
 
 Or any one of yon, chop off your liaiid, 
 
 And send it to the iving : lie for the same, 
 
 Will send thee hither botli thy sous alive; 
 
 And tliat shall be the ransom for their fault. 
 
 Tit. O, gracious emperor! O, gentle Aaron! 
 Did ever raven sing so like a lark, 
 That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise ? 
 With all my heart, I'll send the emperor 
 My hand : 
 Good Aaron, wilt thou help in chop it off? 
 
 Luc. Stay, father: for tliat iKible hand of thine. 
 That hath thrown down so many ent- niies. 
 Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn: 
 My youth can better spare my blood than you; 
 And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. 
 
 Mar. VVhich of your hands hath not defended 
 Home, 
 And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, 
 Writing destruction on the enemies' castles? 
 O, none of both but are of high desert: 
 My hand h,ith been but idle; let it serve 
 To ransom my two nephews from their death: 
 Then have I kept it to a worthy end. 
 
 Aar. Nay, couie agree, whose hand shall go 
 along, _ 
 For fear they die before their pardon come. 
 
 Mar. My hand shall go. 
 
 Luc. . By heaven, it shall not go. 
 
 2^it. Sirs, strive no more; such wither'd herbs 
 as tlifse 
 Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 
 
 Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be tliought thy son, 
 Let me redeem my brothers both from death. 
 
 Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's 
 care. 
 Now let uie shew a brother's love to thee. 
 
 Tit. A<;ree between you ; I will spare my hand. 
 
 Luc. 'I'heu I'll go fetch an axe. 
 
 Mar. Hut I will use the axe. 
 
 [Exetint Lucitis and Marcus. 
 
 Tit. Come hither, Aaron; III deceive them both ; 
 I^end me thy hand, and I will give thee mine, 
 
 Aar. If that he rali'd deceit, I will be honest. 
 And never, whilst I live, deceive men so ; — 
 Hilt I'll deceive you in another sort. 
 And that you'll .say. ere half an hour can pass. 
 
 {Aside. He cuts off Titus's hand.) 
 
 Enter Lucius a«rf Marcus. 
 
 Tit. Now, stay your strife ; vvhat shall be, is 
 despatch'd. — 
 Good Aaron, give his majesty my Iiand ; 
 Tell h:>n, it was a hand that warded hini 
 From tliousand dangers: bid him bury it; 
 More hath it merited, that let it have. 
 As for uiy sons, say, I account of them 
 As jewels purchas'd at an easy price ; 
 And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 
 
 Aar. I go, Andronicns: and for thy hand. 
 Look by and by to have thy sons with thee : 
 Their heads, I mean. — O, how this villany (Aside.) 
 Doth fat me with tlie very thoughts of it! 
 Let fools do good, and fair men call ibr grace, 
 Aaron will have his soul black like his lace. [Exit. 
 
 Tit. O, here I lift this one hand np to heaven, 
 And bow tliis (eehle ruin to the earth : 
 If any power |>ities wretched tears, 
 To that I call :— What, wilt thou kneel with me ? 
 
 {To Lavinia.) 
 Do then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear cur 
 
 prayers ; 
 Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, 
 Aud stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds, 
 When vliey do hiis him in their melting bosoms. 
 
 Mar. O brother, speak with jjossihJities, 
 And do not break into these deep extremes. 
 
 Til. Is not my .sorrow deep, having no bottom? 
 Then be my passions bottomless with them. 
 
 Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. 
 
 Tit. If there were reason for these miseries. 
 Then into limits could 1 bind my woes: [llow ? 
 
 When heaven doth weep, doth not tlip earth o'ei- 
 If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
 Threat'iiing the welkin with his bigswohi face ? 
 And wilt thou have a reason for this coil'r' 
 I am the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow ! 
 She is the weeping welkin, I tlie earth : 
 Then must my sea be moved with her .sighs; 
 Then must my earth with her continual tears 
 Become a deluge, overllovv'd and drovvn'd: 
 For vv hy :" my bowels cannot hide her woes. 
 But like a drunkard must I vomit them. 
 Then give me leave; for losers will have leave 
 To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongiieo. 
 
 Enter a Messe7i(jer luith two heads and a ha?id. 
 
 Mess. VVorthy Andronicns, ill art thou repaid 
 For that good hand tliou sent'st the emperor. 
 Here are thf heads of thy two noble sons; 
 And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; 
 Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd : 
 That woe is me to think upon thy woes, 
 More than remembrance of my father's deatli. [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Now let hot vEtjiia cool in Sicily, 
 And be my heart an ever-burning hell ! 
 These miseries are more than may be borne ! 
 To weep with t,!iem that weep doth ease some deal. 
 But sorrow flouted at is double death. [wound 
 
 Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a 
 And yet detested lile not shrink thereat! 
 That ever death should let life bear his name. 
 Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ] 
 
 {Lavinia Lisses hint.) 
 
 Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless. 
 As frozen water to a starved snake. 
 
 Tit. When will this fearful sliiiiiher have an end? 
 
 Mar. Now farewell flattery : Die, .\ndronicns; 
 Thou do?t not slumber ; see, thy two sons heads; 
 'J'liy warlike hand ; thy mangled daughter here; 
 T hy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
 Struck pale and bhiodless; and thy brotlier, I, 
 Even like a stony image, cold and numb. 
 Ah ! now no more will I control thy giiefs; 
 Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand 
 Gnawing with tliy teeth ; and be this dismal sight 
 The closing up of our most wretched eyes ! 
 Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still ? 
 
 Tit. Ha, ha, ha ! [ho'.ir. 
 
 Mar. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with tl.ie 
 
 Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed : 
 Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, 
 And would usurp upon my vvat'ry eyes, 
 And make tlieni Dlind with tributary tears; 
 Then which way shall I find revenge's cave ? 
 For these two heads do seem to speak to me; 
 And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, 
 Till all tliese mischiels be retinn'd again. 
 Even in their throats that have rouimitted them. 
 Come, let me see what task I have to do. — 
 Vou heavy peo| le, circle me about; 
 That I may turn me to each one of you. 
 And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. 
 The vow is made. — Come, brother, take a head; 
 And in this hand the other will I hear : 
 Lavinia, thou shall be employed in these things; 
 Bear thou my hand, sweet vveiif h, between thy teeth 
 As for tliee, boy, go, get tl.ee from my sight; 
 Thou art an exile, and tliou must not stay : 
 Hie to the Golhs, and raise an army there : 
 And, ii'you love me, as 1 think you do. 
 Let's kiss ami pait, li.r we have nnich to do. 
 
 [Exeunt Titiis. Marctts, and Lavinia, 
 
 Luc. Farewell, Atulionii'us, my noble lather; 
 The woeful'st man that ever liv'd in Home! 
 Farewell, proud Bome ! till Lucius come again 
 He leaves his pledges dearer than liis life. 
 Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister ; 
 (), 'would thou wert as tliou 'tolore hast been! 
 
666 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 But now nor Lncius, nor Lavinia lives, 
 
 But in oblivion, and hateful griefs. 
 
 [f Lncius live, he will requite your wrongs; 
 
 And make proud Saturninus and his empress 
 
 Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
 
 Now will 1 to the Goths, and raise a power, 
 
 To be reveng'd on Uoiiie and Saturnine. [Exit. 
 
 Scene H. — A Room in Tiius's House. A Banquet 
 set out. 
 
 Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young 
 
 Lucius, a boij. 
 Tit. So, so; now sit : and look, you eat no more 
 Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
 As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. 
 Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; 
 Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want uur hands, 
 And cannot passionate our ten-fold grief 
 With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine 
 Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; 
 And when my heart, all mad with misery, 
 Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh. 
 Then thus I thump it down.— 
 Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs ! 
 
 [To Lavinia.) 
 When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating. 
 Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 
 Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; 
 Or get some little knife between thy teeth. 
 And just against thy heart make thou a hole ; 
 That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fail, 
 May run into that sink, and, soaking in. 
 Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. 
 
 Mar, Fy, brother, fy ! teach her not thus to lay 
 Such violent hands upon her tender life. 
 
 Tit. How now ! has sorrow made thee dote 
 already ? 
 tVhy, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. 
 What violent hands can slie lay on her life ? 
 Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; — 
 To bid jEiieas tell the tale twice o'er. 
 How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ? 
 O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands; 
 Lest we remember still, that we have none. — 
 Fy, fy, how franticly I square my talk I 
 As if we should forget we had no hands. 
 If Marcus did not name the word of hands! — 
 Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this : — 
 Here is no drink ! Hark, Marcos, what she says ; — 
 I can interi)ret all her martyr'd signs ; — 
 She says, she drinks no otlier drink but tears, 
 Brew'd with her sorrows, niesh'd upon her cheeks: — 
 Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; 
 In thy dumb action will 1 be as perfect, 
 .As begging hermits in their holy prayers : 
 Thou slialt not sis^h, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, 
 Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign. 
 But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, 
 And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. 
 Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep 
 laments : 
 Make iiiy aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 
 
 Mar. .Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd. 
 Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 
 
 Tit. Peace, tender sapling ; thou art made of 
 tears. 
 And tears will quickly melt thy life away. — 
 
 {Marcus strikes the dish tvith a i^-'^ife.) 
 *What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? 
 Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord : a fly. 
 Tit. Out on thee, murderer ! thou kiil'st my 
 heart ; 
 Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyniiiny : 
 A deed of deaf li, done on the innocent. 
 Becomes not Titus' brother: Get thee gone; 
 1 see, thou art not lor my company. 
 
 Mar. Alas, my lord, I have hut kill'd a fly. 
 Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and 
 mother ? 
 How would he hang his slender gilded wings, 
 
 And buz lamenting doings in the air? 
 Poor harmless fly ! 
 That with his pretty buzzing melody. 
 Came here to make us merry ; and thou hast kill'd 
 him. Ifly. 
 
 Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill favoisr'a 
 Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. 
 
 Tit. O, O, O ! 
 Then pardon me for reprehending thee. 
 For thou hast done a charitable deed. 
 Give nie thy knife, I will insult on him; 
 Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, 
 Come hither purposely to poison me. — 
 'J'here's for thyself, and that's for Tamora.— 
 Ah, sirrah! — 
 
 Yet I do think we are not brought so low, 
 But that, between us, we can kill a fly. 
 That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 
 
 Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on 
 him, 
 He takes false shadows for true substances. 
 
 Tit. Come, takeaway. — Lavinia, go with me: 
 I'll to tiiy closet, and go read with thee 
 Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. — 
 Come, boy, and go with me ; thy sight is young. 
 And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzlo. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. Before Titus's House. 
 
 Enter Titus and Marcus, Then enter young 
 Lucius, Lavinia runnimj after him. 
 
 Boy. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia 
 Follows me every where, I know not why : — 
 (Jood uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! 
 Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what yon mean. 
 Mar. Stand by me, Lucius ; do not fear thine 
 
 aunt. 
 Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. 
 Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did. 
 Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by these 
 signs ? [mean : 
 
 Tit. Fear her not, Lucius : — Somewhat doth she 
 See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee: 
 Somewhither would she have thee go with her. 
 Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care 
 Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, 
 Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator. 
 Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? 
 
 Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess. 
 Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her : 
 For I have heard my grandsire say full oft. 
 Extremity of griefs would make men mad ; 
 And I have read, that Hecuba of Troy 
 Ran mad through sorrow : That made me to fear; 
 Although, my lord, I know my noble aimt 
 Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did. 
 And would not, but in fury, fright my youth : 
 Which made me down to throw my books, and fly; 
 Causeless, perhaps : But pardon me, sweet aunt : 
 And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, 
 I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 
 Mar. Lucius, 1 will. 
 
 {Lavinia turns over the hoolcs tohich Lucitu 
 has let fall.) 
 Tit. How now, La\inia? — Marcus, what means 
 this ':• 
 Some book there is that she desires to see :— 
 Which is it, girl, of these ? — Open them, boy. — 
 But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd; 
 Come, and take choice of all my library. 
 And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
 Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — 
 Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus : 
 Mar. I think, she means, that there was more 
 than one 
 Confedenite in the fact ;— Ay, more there was:— 
 Or else to heaven she heaves them lor revenge. 
 lit. Lucius, what book is that she tosselh so? 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONTCUS. 
 
 667 
 
 Boy. Urandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis ; 
 My iiiollier gave't me. 
 
 3iar. For love of her that's gone. 
 
 Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. 
 
 Tit. Soitl see, how busily she turns the leaves ! 
 Help her: — 
 
 What would she find ? — Lavinia, shall I read? 
 Tiiis is the tragic tale of Phiioiiiel, 
 And treats ol Terens' treason, and his rape: 
 And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy, (leaves. 
 
 Mar. See, brother, see! note, how slie quotes the 
 
 Tit. Lavinia, wert thon thus surpris'd, sweet girl, 
 Ravisii'd, and wrong'd, as Philomela was, 
 Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? — 
 See, see ! — 
 
 Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, 
 ((), had we never, never hunted there !) 
 Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, 
 By nature made for murders and for rapes. 
 
 Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den. 
 Unless the gods delight in tragedies ! 
 
 Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, — for here are none 
 but friends, — 
 What Roman lord it was durst do the deed : 
 Or slunk not Saturnine, as I'arquin erst, 
 That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ? 
 
 3Iar. Sit down, sweet niece; — brother, sit down 
 by me. — 
 Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 
 [nspire me, that I may this treason find ! — 
 My lord, look here : — Look here, Lavinia: 
 'I'his sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst. 
 This after me, when I have writ my name 
 Without the help of any hand at all. 
 
 {He writi-s his name loith his staff, and guides 
 it with his feet and mouth.) 
 Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift! — 
 Write thou, good niece; and here display, at last. 
 What God will have discover'd for revenge: 
 Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, 
 That we may know the traitors, and the truth ! 
 
 {She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides 
 it tvilh her stumps, attd writes.) 
 
 Tit. O, do you read, U)y lord, what she hath 
 writ ? 
 Stuprum — Chiron — Demetrius. 
 
 Mar. What, what! — the lustful sons of Tamora 
 Performers of this heinous, bloody deed 't 
 
 Tit. Ma(j7ie Dominator poli. 
 Tarn lentus audis scelera! lam le.ntus vide.sl 
 
 Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although I 
 know. 
 There is enough written upon this earth. 
 To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, 
 And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
 My lord, kneel down with me ; Lavinia, kneel;* 
 .\nd kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; 
 And swear with me, — as with the woful feere. 
 And father, of that chaste dishonour'd dame. 
 Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, — 
 That we will prosecute, by good advice, 
 Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, 
 And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 
 
 Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how; 
 But if you hurt these bear-whelps, then beware : 
 The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once. 
 She's with the lion deeply still in league, 
 And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back. 
 And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list. 
 You're a jouiig huntsman, Marcus; let it alone; 
 And, couic;, I will go get a leaf of brass. 
 And with a gad of steel will write these words. 
 And lay it by : the angry northenj wind 
 Will blow these sands, like Sybil's leaves, abroad. 
 And where's your lesson then i — Boy, what say 
 you ? 
 
 Boy, I say, my lord, that if I were a man, 
 Their mother's bed chamber should not be safe 
 Foi these bad-bondmeii to the yoke o( Rome. 
 
 Mar. Ay, tliat's my boy ! thy father hath full oft 
 
 ! P'or this ungrateful country done the like. 
 Boy. And, uncle, so will 1, an if I live. 
 Tit. Come, go with me into mine armoury ; 
 I Lucius, I'll fit thee ; and withal, my boy 
 j Shall carry from me to the empress' sons 
 I Presents, that I intend to send them both: 
 Come, come ; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thon not? 
 Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoma, 
 
 grandsire. 
 Tit. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another 
 course. 
 Lavinia, come: — Marcus, look to my house ; 
 Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; 
 Ay, marry, will vve, sir: and we'll be waited on. 
 {Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Boy.) 
 Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan. 
 And not relent, or not compassion him? — 
 Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy; 
 That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart. 
 Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd siiield : 
 But yet so just, that he will not revenge : — 
 Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene TI. — The same. A Boom in the Palace. 
 Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius, at one 
 door; at another door, young Lucius, and an 
 Attendant, with a bundle of iveapons, and 
 verses tvrit upon them. 
 Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; 
 He hath some message to deliver to us. 
 Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad 
 
 grandfather. 
 Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, 
 I greet your honours from Andronicus; — 
 And pray the Roman gods confound you both ! 
 
 {Aside.) 
 Dem. Gramercy, lovely Lucius : What's the 
 
 news ? 
 Boy. That you are both decipher'd, tliat's the news. 
 For villains mark'd with rape. {Aside.) May it 
 
 please you, 
 My grandsire, welladvis'd, halh sent by me 
 The goodliest weapons of his armoury. 
 To gratify your honourable youth, 
 The hope of Rome ; for so he bade me say. 
 And so I do, and with his gifts present 
 Your lordships, that, whenever yon have need. 
 You may be armed and appointed well : 
 And so I leave you both, {A.iide.) like bloody vil- 
 lains. {Exeunt Boy and Attenda7it. 
 Dem. What's here? a scroll; and written round 
 
 Let's see : 
 
 Integer vilae, scelerisque purus 
 
 No7i eget Mauri jaculis, nee arcu. 
 
 Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know 
 I read it in the grammar long ago. 
 
 [abont? 
 
 it well : 
 [have it. 
 
 Aar. Ay, just! — a verse in Horace; — ri^ht, you 
 Now, what a thing it is to be an ass ! 
 Here's no sound jest! the old man hath 
 
 found their guilt; 
 And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with \ 
 
 lines, [quick. '^Aside. 
 
 That wound, beyond their feeling, to the i 
 But were our witty empress well a foot,! 
 She would applaud Andronicus' conceit. 
 But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — 
 And now, young lords, was't not a happy star 
 Led us to Rome, strangers, and, more than so. 
 Captives, to be advanced to this height ? 
 It did me good, before the palace gate. 
 To brave the tribime in his brother's hearing. 
 
 Dem. But me more good, to see so a great lord 
 Basely insinuate, and send us gifts. 
 
 Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius ? 
 Did you not use his daughter very friendly ? 
 
 Dem. I would, we had a thousand Ronian damea 
 At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. 
 
 Chi. A charitable wish, and full oi' love. 
 
 Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say 
 amen. 
 
658 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Vhi. Anrt that would she for twenty thousand more. 
 Dem. Come, let us go! and pray to all the gods 
 Tor our beloved mother iii her puius. 
 
 Aar. Fray to the devils ; tlie gods have given 
 us o'er. {Aside. Flourish.) 
 
 Dem.\\hv do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? 
 Chi. Belike, lor joy the emperor hath a son. 
 Dem. Soft ; who comes here ? 
 
 Enter a Nurse, with a black-a-moor child in her 
 arms. 
 
 Jftir. Good -morrow, lords : 
 
 0, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor. 
 
 Aar. VVell, more, or less or ne'er a wit at all, 
 Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now .■" 
 
 Niir. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! 
 Now help, or woe betide tliee evermore ! 
 
 Anr. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? 
 What d'lst thou wrap and liinible in thine arms ? 
 
 Niir. O, tiiat which I vvoul J hide from heaven's eye, 
 Our empress" shame, and stately Home's disgrace; — 
 Slie is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd. 
 
 Aar. To whom ? 
 
 Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed. 
 
 Aar. VVell, God 
 
 Give her good rest I What hath he sent her / 
 
 Nur. A devil. 
 
 Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam ; a joyiul 
 issue. [snfi : 
 
 Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful is- 
 Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad 
 Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. 
 The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal. 
 And bids thee christen it with (hy dagger's point. 
 
 Aar. Out, out, you whore! is black so base a hue ^ 
 Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. 
 
 Dem. Villaiu, what hast thou done? 
 
 Aar. Done I that which thou 
 
 Canst not undo. 
 
 Chi. Thou hast undone our mother. 
 
 Aar. Villain , [ have done thy mother. 
 
 Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. 
 Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice ! 
 AccursVl the olispring of so foul a fiend ! 
 
 Chi. It shall not live. 
 
 Aar. It shall not die. 
 
 Nur. Aaron, it must: the muther wills it so. 
 
 Aar. What, must it, nurse V then let no man, but I, 
 Do execution on my flesh and blood. 
 
 Dem. l"ll broach tiie tadpole on my rapier's point : 
 Nurse, give it me ; my sword shall soon despatch it. 
 
 Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. 
 [Takes the child from the nurse, and draws.) 
 Stay, murderous villains ! will you kill your brotlier? 
 Now, by the burning tapers oi the sky. 
 That shone so brightly wlien.this boy was got. 
 He dies upon my scimitars sharp \w\ni. 
 That touches this my first-born son and heir! 
 I (ell you, younglings, not Enceladus, 
 With all his threat'ning band of Typlion's brood, 
 N<;r great Alcides, nor the god of war. 
 Shall seize this prey out of his father's liands. 
 \Vhat, what, ye sangume, shallow-hearted boys ! 
 Ye wliite-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs 1 
 Coal-black is better than another hue : 
 In that it scorns to bear another hue. 
 For all the water in the ocean 
 Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, 
 Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 
 Tell the eriiperess from me, I am of age 
 'i"o keep mine own ; excuse it how she can. 
 
 Dem. Wilt tliou betray thy nuble mistress thus? 
 
 Aar. My mistress is my mistress: tliis, myselt : 
 Vhe vigouf, and tiie picture of my youth : 
 This, before rtll the world do I preft r ; 
 This, ma i(;re all the world, wil! I keep safe, 
 « Or soiiiu of you shall smoke tor- it hi Rome. 
 
 Dem. iiv this nur mother is lor eser sh;im'd. 
 Vhi. Koine uill (les|.ise her tor tliis loiil escape. 
 Nifr. I he emperor, in his rag',',w.Jl d jora her death. 
 
 Chi. I blush to think upon this Ignoiiiiny. 
 Aar. \\ hy , there's the privilege your beauty brars. 
 Fy, treacherous hue! that will betray with blusliiiig 
 Tlie close enacts and counsels of the heart 1 
 Here's a young lad fram'd oi another leer: 
 Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father; 
 As who should say. Old lad, I am thine own. 
 He is your brother, lords ; sensibly led 
 Of that self-blood that first gave life to you ; 
 And, from that womb, where you imprison'd were, 
 fie is enfranchised and come to light ; 
 Nay, he's your brother by the surer side, 
 Aldiough my seal be stamped in his face. 
 
 Nur. Aaron, what shall I stay unto the ernpreHS? 
 Dem. Advise thee. Aaron, what is to be done. 
 And we will all siibscrilie to thy advice ; 
 Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 
 
 Aar. 'J'lien sit we down, and let us all consult 
 My son and I will hue the wind ol you : 
 Keep there : Now talk at pleasure of your safety. 
 
 [They sit on the <jruurid.) 
 Dem. How many women saw this child ol liis ;' 
 Aar. Why, so, brave lords: VV'hen we all join 
 in league, 
 I am a lamb : but if you brave the Moor, 
 'I'he chafed boar, the mountain lioness, 
 Tlie oceans swells not so as .^aron storms. — 
 But. say again, how many saw the child ? 
 Nur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself. 
 And no one else, but the deliver d empress. 
 
 Aar. The emperess, the midwile, and yourself: 
 Two may keep counsel, when the third's away: 
 Go to the empress ; tell her, this I said : — 
 
 [Stabbing her.) 
 
 Weke, weke ! — so cries a pig prepared to tiie spit. 
 
 Dem. What inean'st thou, Aaron? Wherelore 
 
 didst thou this ? 
 .\ar. O lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy : 
 Shall she live to betray this guilt of lours? 
 A long-tongu'd babbling gossip ? no. lords, no. 
 And now be it known to you my full intent. 
 Not far, one Muliteus lives, my countryman. 
 His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; 
 His child is like to tier, fair as you are : 
 Go Uitck with him, and give the mother gold, 
 And tell them both the circumstance of all ; 
 And how by this their child shall be advauc'd. 
 And be received for the emperor's heir. 
 And substituted in the place of mine, 
 To calm this tempest whirling in the court; 
 And let the emperor dandle him tor his own. 
 Hark ye, lords; ye see that I liavegivi ii her physjo. 
 . [Poititinij to the Nume.) 
 And you mu.st needs bestow her funeral ; 
 The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: 
 'I'liis done, see tiiat you take no longer days, 
 But send the midwile presently to me. 
 'I'he midwile, and tii? nurse, well made away, 
 Then let the ladies tattle what they please. 
 
 Chi. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not tiust the air 
 With secrets. 
 
 Dem. For this care of Taniora, 
 
 He. self and hers are highly bound to thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Dem. and Chi. bearing off the Nuras. 
 Aar. Now to the Go:hs, as swift as swallow tlies; 
 There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, 
 And secretly to greet the empress' triends. — 
 Come on, \ou thick lip'd sla\e, I'll bearyou hence; 
 For it is you that puts us to our shifts : 
 I'll' make you fen! on berries and on roofs. 
 And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, 
 And cabin in a cave ; and bring you up . 
 
 To be a warrior, and command a camp. lExtS. 
 
 Scene HI.— TOe same. A jmblic Place. 
 Enter Titus, bearing arroti'S. icith letters at tti* 
 ends of them ; with him AlARctJS. yirung l.l'ciijs, 
 and v'lher Centkmen, with botes. 
 Tit. Come, iMaicus, come;— Kinsmen, tins is tfco 
 way : — 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 669 
 
 Sir boy, now let nie see ymir archery ; 
 
 Look yp dnuv liome enough, and tis there sti-aiglit: 
 
 Terras Astran reliquit : 
 
 U'; yon renieniber'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. 
 
 Sits, tiike you to your tools. Von, cousins, shall 
 
 '^Jo sound the ocenn, and cast your nets : 
 
 Happily you may (ind her in tlie sea : 
 
 Vet there's as liltle justice as at l:ind : 
 
 No; Publius and Senipronius, you must do it; 
 
 'Tis you must dig witli mattock, and with spade, 
 
 And pierce the inmost ci-ntre of the earth ; 
 
 Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
 
 I pray you, deli\er him this petition ; 
 
 Tell him, it is for justice, an(l for aid ; 
 
 And that it conies from old Andronicus, 
 
 Shaken with sonows in ungratefid Rome. — 
 
 Ah, Rome I — Well, well: I made thee miserable, 
 
 What time I tlnew the people's suffrages 
 
 On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. — 
 
 Go, get you gone ; and pray be careful all, 
 
 And ieax e you not a man of war nnsearch'd ; 
 
 This « icked emper.or may have shipp'd her hence, 
 
 And, kinsmen, then we may go |iipe for justice. 
 
 Mar. O, Pul)lius, is not this a heavy case, 
 To see tliv noble uncle tlius distract? 
 
 Pub. 1 herefbre, my lord, it highly us concerns, 
 I'y diiy and night to attend him carefully; 
 And tVeil his humour kindly as we may. 
 Till time beget some careful remedy. 
 
 Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. 
 Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war 
 Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, 
 An'i vet.geance on the traitor Saturnine. 
 
 Tit. Publius, how now"!* how now, my masters? 
 What, have you met with her':" 
 
 Pub. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word. 
 If you will have revenge from hell, you shall : 
 Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, 
 He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else. 
 So that iierforce you must needs stay a time. 
 
 Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed nie with delays. 
 I'll dive into the burning lake below, 
 And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — 
 Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we; 
 No big-bou'd men, fram'd of the Cyclops' size : 
 Hut metal, Marcus, steel to the very back ; 
 Vet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can 
 
 bear : 
 And, sith tiiere is no justice in earth nor hell, 
 We will solicit heaven ; and move the {^ods. 
 To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs: 
 Gome, to this gear. You are an archer, Marcus. 
 
 {He gives them the arroios.) 
 AclJovem, that's for you : — Here, ad Apollineni : — 
 Ad Martem, that's lor myself: — 
 Here, boy, to Palla.s : — Here, to Mercury : 
 To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine, — 
 Vou were as good to shoot against the wind. — 
 To it, boy. Alarcus, loose when I bid : 
 O my word, I have written toetfect: 
 There's iiot a god left unsolicited. 
 
 Mar, Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court. 
 We will afflict the emperor in his pride. 
 
 Tit. Now, masters, draw. (They shoot.) O, well 
 said, Lucius I 
 (rood boy, in Virgo's lap ; give it Pallas. 
 
 Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon ; 
 Vour letter is with Jupiter by this. 
 
 Tit. Ha 1 Publius, l*ublius, what hast thou done ? 
 See, see, thou hast shot otf one of Taurus' horns. 
 
 Mar. This was the sport, my lord : when Publius 
 ^ shot, 
 The bnll bemg gall'd gaves Tries such a knock, 
 Triat down fell both the Ram's horns in the court. 
 And who should find them but the empress' villain? 
 She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose 
 lint give them to his master for a present. 
 
 Tit. Why, there it goes : God give your lordship 
 
 joy 
 
 r 
 
 I Enter a Clown., tvith a basket, and two pi-jeon$. 
 
 Nev^s, news from heaven ! Marcus, the post U 
 
 come. — 
 Sirrah, what tidings ! have you any letters ? 
 Shall 1 have justice? what says Jupiter? 
 
 do. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he 
 hath taken them down again, for the man nnist not 
 be hanged till the next week. 
 
 Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? 
 
 Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank 
 with him I'n all my life. 
 
 Tit. Why, villain, art thou not the carrier? 
 
 Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. 
 
 Tit. V\ hv, didst thou not come from heaven. 
 
 Clo. From heaven? alas, sir, I never came there: 
 God forbid, 1 should be so bold to pr^ss to heaven 
 in my young days. Why, J am going with my 
 pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of 
 brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emi)erial'8 
 men. 
 
 Mar. W'hy, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve 
 for your oration ; and let him deliver the pigeons to 
 the emperor trom you. 
 
 Tit. Tell me, can yon deliver an oration to the 
 emperor with a grace': 
 
 Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in 
 all my life. 
 
 T'it. Sirrah, come hither; make no more ado, 
 But give your pigeons to the emperor: 
 By me tlioii shaft have justice at his liands. 
 Hold, hold ; — mean while, hi.-re's money for tby 
 
 charges. 
 Give me a pen and ink. — 
 Sirrah, can you with a grace delivei- a supplication? 
 
 Clo. Ay, sir. 
 
 Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. And 
 when you come to him, at llie first approach, yoo 
 must kneel; then kiss his firof ; then deli\er nu 
 your pigeons; and then look for yonr reward: I'll 
 be at hand, sir: see you do it bravely. 
 
 Clo. I warrant you, sir; let me alone. 
 
 Tit. Sirrah, hast thoii a knife ? Come, let me see iL 
 Here, Marcus, told it in the oiation ; 
 For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant:— 
 And when thou hast given it to the empemr. 
 Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 
 
 Clo. God be with you, sir; I will. 
 
 Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go : — Publius, follow 
 me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. Before the Palace. 
 
 Etiter Saturninus, Tamora, Chiron, Demetrius, 
 Lords, and others. Saturninus, with the ar- 
 rows in his hattd. that Titus shot. 
 
 Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these ? Was 
 ever seen 
 Au emperor of Rome thus overborne. 
 Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent 
 Of legal justice, us'd in such contempt :' 
 My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods. 
 However tliese disturbers of our peace 
 Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd. 
 But even with law, against the wilful sons 
 Of old Andronicus. And what an if 
 His .sorrows have so overwhebn'd his wits, 
 Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks. 
 His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness ? 
 And now he writes to heaven lor his redress: 
 See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury ; 
 This to Apollo ; tins to the god of war : 
 Sweet scrolls to fiy about the streets of Romcl 
 What's this, but iibelluig against the senate. 
 And blazoning cur injustice every where ? 
 A goodly hiniiour, is it not, my lords? 
 As who should say, in Rome no justice wecr. 
 But, if 1 live, his jieigned ecstacies 
 Shall be no shelter to these outrages : 
 But he and his shall know, that jusIk^p lives 
 In Saturninus' health : whom, if she slfep. 
 
670 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 c'll so awakp, as she in fury sliall 
 Cut oft'tiie proudst conspirator that lives. 
 
 Tain. I\ly i^tacioiis lord, my lovely Saturnine, 
 Lord of my iiie, coiiirnauder of my thou^lits. 
 Calm thee, and bear the fault of 'I'itus' age, 
 The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, 
 Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep, and scarr'd his 
 
 heart ; 
 And rather comfort his distressed plight, 
 Than prosecute the meanest, or the best, 
 For these contempts.— Why, thus it shall become 
 High-witted Tamora to gloze with all : {Aside.) 
 
 But, Titus, I iiave touch'd thee to the quick, 
 Thy life-blood out: if Aaron rww be wise, 
 Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. — 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 How now, good fellow ? vvould'st thon speak with ns ? 
 
 C/o. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial. 
 
 1am. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. 
 
 C/o. 'Tis lie. — God, and saint Stephen, give you 
 good den : I have brought you a letter, and a couple 
 of pigeons here. {Saturninus reads the letter.) 
 
 Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. 
 
 Clo. How much money must I have ? 
 
 Tam. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. 
 
 Clo. Hang'd I By'r lady, then I have brought up a 
 neck to a fair end. {Exit, guarded.) 
 
 Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 
 Shall I endure this monstrous villany ? 
 1 know from whence this same device proceeds ; 
 May this be borne? — as if his traitorous sons, 
 That died by law for murder of our brother, 
 Ha\ e by my means been butcher'd wrongfully. — 
 Go, drag the villain hither by the hair ; 
 Nor age, nor honour, siiall shape privilege. — 
 For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughter-man ; 
 Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, 
 In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 
 
 Enter ^^milius. 
 
 What news with thee, j'Einilius :" 
 
 Mmil. Arm, arm, my lords ; Rome never had 
 more cause ! 
 The Goths have gathered head ; and with a power 
 Of hii;h-resolved men, bent to the spoil. 
 They hither march amain, under conduct 
 Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; 
 Who threats, in course of this re\enge, to do 
 As much as ever Coriolauus did. 
 
 Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths ? 
 These tidings nip me; and I hang the head 
 As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with 
 
 storms. 
 Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 
 'Tis he the common people love so much ; 
 Myself hath often overheard them say. 
 When I have walked like a private man. 
 That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully. 
 And they have wish'd that Lucius were their em- 
 peror, [strong? 
 
 Tam. Why should yon fear? is not your city 
 
 Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius; 
 ^lid will revolt from me, to succour him. [name. 
 
 Tam. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy 
 Is the sun dimm'd, that knats do lly in it i 
 The eagle suffers little birds to sing, 
 \nd is not careful what they mean thereby ; 
 Knowing that with the sharlow of his wings, 
 -le can at pleasure stint their melody : 
 Even so may'.st thou the giddy men of Rome. 
 Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor, 
 I will enchant the old Andronicus 
 With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, 
 'I'han baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep ; 
 W en as the one is wounded with the bait, 
 The other rotted with delicious feed. 
 
 Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. 
 
 Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will: 
 For i can smooth, and fill liis aged ear 
 
 With golden promises : that were his heart 
 
 Almost impregnable, his old cars deaf, 
 
 Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.— 
 
 Go thou before, be our ambassador : (To jEmil.) 
 
 Say, that the emperor requests a parley 
 
 Of warlike Lucius, ind appoint the meeting. 
 
 Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. 
 
 Sat. iEmilius, do this message honourably : 
 And if he stand on host:ige for his safety, 
 Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. 
 
 jEmil. Your bidding shall I do etfectualK'. 
 
 [Exit .^miliut^ 
 
 Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus ; 
 And temper him, with all the art 1 have, 
 To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. 
 And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again. 
 And bury all thy fear in my devices. 
 
 Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him. 
 
 L Exeunt 
 ACT. V. 
 Scene I. — Plains near Rome. 
 Enter Lucius and Goths, ivith drum and colours 
 
 Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, 
 I have received letters from great Rome, 
 Which signify, what hate they bear their emperor. 
 And how desirous of our sight they are. 
 Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness 
 Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs: 
 And, wherein Rome hath done you any scatli. 
 Let him make treble satisfaction. 
 
 1 Goth. Biave slip, sprung from the great An- 
 
 dronicus, 
 Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort 
 Whose high exploits, and honourable deeds, 
 Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, 
 Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, — 
 Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day. 
 Led by their master to the flower'd fields, — 
 And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora. 
 
 Goths. And, as he saith, so say we all with him. 
 
 Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. 
 But \\ ho comes liere, led by a lusty Gotli ? 
 
 Enter a Goth, leading Aaron, tvith his child in 
 his arms. 
 
 2 Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops 1 
 
 stray'd. 
 To gaze upon a ruinous monastery : 
 And as I earnestly did fix mine eye 
 Upon the wasted building, suddenly 
 I heard a child cry underneath a wall : 
 I made unto the noise ; when soon I heard 
 The crying babe controll'd with this discourse : 
 Peace, tawny slave, half me, and half thy dam ! 
 Did not thy hue betoray ivhose brat thou art. 
 Had nature lent thee hut thy mother's look, 
 Villain, thou miyht'st have been an emperor : 
 But where the bull and cow are both milk-white. 
 They never do beget a coal-black calf. 
 Peace, villain, peace'. — even thus he rates the 
 
 babe, — 
 For I must bear thee, to a trusty Goth ; 
 Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe, 
 Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake. 
 With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him 
 Surpris'd him suddenly; and brought him hither. 
 To use as ynu think needful of the man. 
 
 Luc. O worthy Goth ! this is the incarnate devil. 
 That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand: 
 'I'his is the pearl that pleas'd your en'press' ejie ; 
 And here's the base fruit of his burning lust, — 
 Say, walley'd slav^ whither wonld'st ihon convey 
 'I'his growing image of thy fiend- like face? 
 Why dost not speak ? What ! deal? No ; not a word ? 
 A halter, soldiers: hang him on this tree, 
 And by his side his fruit of bastardy. 
 
 Aar. Touch not (he boy, he is of royal blood. 
 
 Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. — 
 First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl ; 
 
Scene 2, 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 671 
 
 A sight to vex the father's soul withal. 
 Get me a ladHer. 
 
 {A ladder brought, which Aaron is obliged 
 to ascend.) 
 
 Anr. Lucius, save the child ; 
 
 And bear it from me to the emperess. 
 If thou do this, I'll shew thee wond'rous things, 
 That highly may advantage thee to hear : 
 If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, 
 I'll speak no more; but vengeance rot you all ! 
 
 Luc. Say on ; and, it if please me which thou 
 speak'st, 
 Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourished. 
 
 Aar. An if it please thee ? why, assure thee, Lu- 
 cius, 
 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak : 
 For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, 
 Acts of black night, abominable deeds, 
 Complots of mischief, treason; villanies 
 Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd : 
 And this shall all be buried by my death. 
 Unless thou swear to me, my child shall live. 
 
 Luc. Tell on thy mind ; I say, (liy child shall live. 
 
 Aar. Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. 
 
 Luc. Who should I swear by? thou believ'st no 
 god; 
 I'hat granted, how canst (hou believe an oath ? 
 
 Aar. What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not : 
 Yet, — for I know thou art religious, 
 And hast a thing within thee, called conscience ; 
 And twenty popish tricks an<l ceremonies. 
 Which I have seen thee careful to observe, — 
 Tlierefore I urge thy oatli : For that, I know. 
 An idiot hold his bauble for a god, 
 And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears ; 
 To that I'll urge him : — Therefore, thou shalt vow 
 By that sanie god, what god sue'er it be, 
 'J'hat thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — 
 To save my boy, to nourish, and bring him up; 
 Or else I will discover nought to thee. 
 
 Luc. Even by my god, I swear to thee, J will. 
 
 Aar. First, know thou, I begot him ou the em 
 press. 
 
 Luc. O most insatiate, luxurious woman ! 
 
 Aar. Tut, Lucius ! this was but a deed of charity, 
 To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. 
 ' Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus : 
 They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her. 
 And cut her hands ; and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. 
 
 Luc. O detestable villain ! call'st thou that trim- 
 
 ming : 
 
 fand 'twas 
 
 Aar. Why, she was wash'd.andcut, and trimm'd ; 
 Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 
 
 Luc. O, barbarotis, beastly villains, like thyself! 
 
 Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them; 
 That codding spirit had they from their mother. 
 As sure a card as ever won the set ; 
 That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, 
 As true a dog as ever fought at head. — 
 Well, let my deeds be witness of mv worth. 
 I traiu'd thy brethren to that guileful hole, 
 Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay : 
 I wrote the letter that thy father found. 
 And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, 
 Confederate with the queen, and her two sons ; 
 And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, 
 Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? 
 I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ; 
 And wh n I had it, drew myself apart. 
 And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter. 
 1 pry'd me through the crevice of a wall. 
 When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads: 
 Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily. 
 That both mine eyes were rainy like to his ; 
 Aud when I told the empress of this sport. 
 She swounded almost at my pleasing tale, 
 And, for my tidings, gave me twenty kisses. 
 
 Goth. What! canst thou say all this, and never 
 blush ? 
 
 Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. 
 
 Luc. Art thon not sorry for these heinous deeds ? 
 
 Aar. Ay, that 1 had not done a thousand more. 
 Even now I curse the day, (and yet, I think. 
 Few come within (he conipa.ss of my curse,) 
 Wherein I did not some notorious ill : 
 As kill a man, or else devise his death ; 
 Kavish a maid, or plot the way to do it; 
 Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; 
 Set deadly enmity between two friends ; 
 Mnke poor men's cattle break their necks ; 
 Set fire on barns and hay-.stacks in the night. 
 And bid the owners cpienrh them with tlicir teaf». 
 Olt have I digg'd up dead men from their gra\es. 
 And set them upright at their dear friends' doors. 
 Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; 
 And on their .skins, as on the bark of trees. 
 Have with my knife carved in Roman letters. 
 Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. 
 'i'ut, I have done a thousand dreadful things. 
 As willingly as one would kill a fly ; 
 And nothing grieves me heartily indeed, 
 But that I cannot do ten thousand more. 
 
 Luc. Bring down the devil ; for he must not die 
 So sweet a death as hanging presently. 
 
 Aar. If there be devils, would I were a devil. 
 To live and burn in everlasting fire ; 
 So I might have your comjjany in hell. 
 But to torment you with my bitter tongue! 
 
 Luc. Sirs, stop his mouth, aud let him speak do 
 more. 
 
 Enter a Goth. 
 
 Goth. l\Iy lord, there is a messenger from Rome, 
 Desires to be admitted to your presence. 
 
 Luc. Let him come near. — 
 
 Enter i^iViLius. 
 Welcome, ^Emilius, what's the news from Rome? 
 
 jEinil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of tlie Goths, 
 The Roman emperor greets you all by me : 
 And, for he understands you are in arms, 
 He craves a parley at your father's house ; 
 Wilhng you to demand your Isostiges, 
 And they shall be inimeciiately deliver'd. 
 
 1 Goth. What says our general ? 
 
 Luc. JSimWms, let the emperor give his pledges 
 Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, 
 And we will come. — March away. {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Rome. Before Titus's House. 
 Enter Tamora, Chiron, a7id Demetrius, 
 disguised. 
 Tarn. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, 
 I will encounter with Andronicus ; 
 And say, I am Revenge, sent from below. 
 To join with him, and right his heinous wrongs. 
 Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps. 
 To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge ; 
 Tell him. Revenge is come to join with him, 
 And work confusion on his enemies. {They knock) 
 
 Enter Titus, above. 
 
 Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation? 
 Is it your trick, to make me ope the door ; 
 That so my .•■ad decrees may fly away. 
 And all my study be to no effect ? 
 You are deceiv'd : for what I mean to do. 
 See here, in bloody lines I have set down ; 
 And what is written shall be executed. 
 
 TaTTi. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. 
 
 Tit. No, not a word : How can I grace my talk. 
 Wanting a hand to give it action? 
 Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more. 
 
 Tarn. If thou did'st know me, thou would'st talk 
 with me. 
 
 Tit. I am not mad ; I know thee well enough : 
 Witness this wretched stump, these crimson linesj 
 Witness these trenches, made by grief and care; 
 Witness the tiring day, and heavy night ; 
 \Vitne.ss all sorrow, that I know thee well 
 For our proud empress, mighty Tamura : 
 
TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 (s not (!iy coming for my other liaiid ? 
 
 Tain. !\.!K)w tiion, .s;h1 jiiaii. 1 iim iiotTaniora; 
 Slie is tiiy cnfiiiy, iind 1 thy iVieiid : 
 I am lif venge ; sent from the infernal kingdom, 
 'J\) ease the gnawing viiitin-e of tiiy mind, 
 By working wreakful vengeance on tiiy foes. 
 Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; 
 Confer with me of nnirder and of death : 
 There's not a hollow cave, nor Uirking-place, 
 No vast obscnrity, or misty vale. 
 Where bluody murder, or detested rape. 
 Can couch for fear, bnt I sviU find them out; 
 And ill their ears tell them my dreadful name. 
 Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. 
 
 Tit. Art thou Revenge ? and art thou sent to me. 
 To be a torment to mine enemies? [me. 
 
 Tarn. 1 am ; therefore come down, and welcome 
 
 Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee. 
 Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands; 
 Now give some 'surance that tlioii art Revenge, 
 Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; 
 And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, 
 Afid whirl along with thee abont the globes. 
 Provide thee proper palfries, black as jet. 
 To hale thy vengeful waggon svviit away, 
 And hnd out murderers in their guilty caves : 
 And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
 I will dismount, and by the waggon wheel 
 Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; 
 Even from Hyperion's rising in tlie east, 
 Until his very downfall in the sea. 
 And day by day I'll do this heavy task. 
 So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. 
 
 Tom, These are my ministers, and come with me. 
 
 Tit. Are they thy ministers V wiiat are they 
 cali'd >. 
 
 Tant. Rapine, and Murder; therefore called so, 
 ^Cai.ise they take vengeance of such kind of men. 
 
 Tit. Good lord, how like the empress' sons they 
 are ! 
 And you the empress! But we wordly men 
 Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. 
 
 sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee : 
 
 4nd, if one arm's embracement will content thee, 
 
 1 will embrace thee in it by and by. 
 
 [Exit Titus, from above. 
 Tarn. This closing with him fits his lunacy : 
 Whate'er 1 forge, to feed his brainsick fits, 
 Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches. 
 For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; 
 And, being credulous in this mad thought, 
 I'll make him send for Lucius, his son ; 
 And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, 
 I'll find some cunning practice ont of hand. 
 To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
 Or, at the least, make them his enemies. 
 See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 
 
 Enter TiTUS. 
 
 Til. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee : 
 Welcome, dread fury, to my woful house; — 
 Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too : — 
 How like the empress and her. sons you are ! 
 Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor;— 
 Could not all hell afford you such a devil '! 
 For, well I wot, the empress never wags. 
 But in her company there is a Moor; 
 And, would you represent our queen aright, 
 [t were convenient you had such a devil : 
 But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? 
 
 Tam. What would'st thou have us do, Andro- 
 nicus? 
 
 Dein. Shew me a murderer, I'll deal with him. 
 
 Chi. Shew me a villain, that hath done a rape, 
 And 1 am sent to be reveng'd on him. 
 
 Tain. Shew me a thousand, that have done tliee 
 wnmg. 
 And T will be revenged on them all. [Rome ; 
 
 Tit. Look round about the wicked streets of 
 And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself. 
 
 Good Murder, stab him; he's a murdrrer. — 
 
 Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap. 
 
 To find another that is like to thee. 
 
 Good Rapine, stab him ; he is a ravisher.— 
 
 Go thou with them ; and in the emperor's court 
 
 There is a queen, attended by a Moor; 
 
 Well may'st thou know her by thy own propottioB, 
 
 For up and down she doth resemble thee ; 
 
 I pray thee, do on them some violent death, 
 
 Tney have been violent to me and mine. 
 
 Ta?>t. Well hast thou lesson'd us ; this shall we do. 
 But would it please thee, good Andronicus, 
 To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son, 
 Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, 
 And bid him come and banquet at thy house : 
 W hen he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
 I will bring in the empress and her sons, 
 'I'he emperor himself, and all thy foes; 
 And at tliy mercy shall they stoop and kneel. 
 And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. 
 What says Andronicus to this device? 
 
 Tit, Marcus, my brother! — 'tis sad Titus calls. 
 
 Enter Marcus. 
 
 Go, gentfe Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius ; 
 
 Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths; 
 
 Bid him repair to me, and bring with him 
 
 Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths ; 
 
 Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are : 
 
 Tell him, the emperor and the empress too 
 
 Feast at my house : and he shall feast with them. . 
 
 This do thou for my love : and so let hfm, 
 
 As he regards his aged father's life. 
 Mar. This will I do, and soon return again. [Exit- 
 Tarn. Now will I hence about thy business. 
 
 And take my ministers along with me. 
 
 Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with ine ; 
 
 Or else I'll call my brother back again. 
 
 And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. 
 
 Tam. {To her Sons.) What say you, boys? will 
 you abide with him, 
 
 Wliiles I go tell my lord the emperor. 
 
 How I have govem'd our determin'd jest? 
 
 Yield to this humour, smooth and speak him fair, 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 And tarry with him, till I come again. 
 
 Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad ; 
 
 And will o'er-reach them in their own devices; 
 
 A pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dam. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. 
 Tam. Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes 
 
 To lay a complot to betray thy foes. [Exit. 
 
 Tit. I know, thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, 
 
 farewell. 
 Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd i 
 Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. — 
 
 Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! 
 
 Enter Publius and others. 
 
 Pub. What's your will ? 
 
 Tit. Know you these two ? 
 
 Pub. The empress' boum, 
 
 I take them, Chiron and Demetrius. 
 
 Tit. Fy. Publius, fy ! thou art too much deceived ; 
 The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name : 
 And therefore bind them, gentle Publius; 
 Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them. 
 Olt liave you heard me wish for such an hour. 
 And now I find it; therefore bind them sure, 
 And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. 
 
 [Exit Titus.— Publius, ^c.laij hold on 
 Chiron and Demetrius. 
 
 Chi Villains, forbear : we are tlie empress' sons. 
 
 Pub. And therefore do we what we are com- 
 manded. — 
 Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word; 
 Is he sure bound? look, that you bind tliem fast 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 073 
 
 Re-enter TiTVS AtiDROSicvs, tvi t h hxviNix; she 
 bearing a basin, and he a knife. 
 
 Tit. Come, come, Laviuia; look, tby fees are 
 boimd. — 
 Sirs, stop their months, let them not speak to me ; 
 But let them hear what fearful words 1 utter. — 
 
 villains, Chiron and Demetrius ! _ [mud ; 
 Here stands the spring whom yon have stain'd with 
 This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. 
 
 You kill'd her husband ; and, for that \ile fault. 
 Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death : 
 My hand cut ofl", and made a merry jest : [dear 
 
 Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, more 
 Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity. 
 Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and fbrc'd. 
 What would you say, if I should let you speak? 
 Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. 
 Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you. 
 This ene hand yet is left to cut your throats ; 
 VVhilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold 
 The basin, that receives your guilty blood. 
 You know, your mother means to feast with me, 
 And calls herself. Revenge, and thinks me mad. — 
 Hark, villains; 1 will grind your bones to dust. 
 And with your blood and it, I'll make a paste ; 
 And of the paste a coffin I will rear. 
 And make two pasties of your shameful heads; 
 And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam. 
 Like to the earth, swallow her own increase. 
 This is the feast that I have bid her to. 
 And this the banquet she shall surleit on; 
 For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter, 
 And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd : 
 And now prepare your throats. — Lavinia, come, 
 
 (He cuts their throats.) 
 Receive the blood : and, when that they are dead. 
 Let me go grind their bones to powder small. 
 And with this hateful liquor tetnper it; 
 And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd. 
 Come, come, be everyone officious 
 To make this banquet; which I wish may prove 
 More stem and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. 
 So, DOW bring them in, for I will play the cook, 
 And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies. 
 
 Scene IIL — The same. A Pavilion, tvitk 
 tables, §fc. 
 
 Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with Aaron 
 prisoner. 
 
 Lnc. Uncle Marcns, since 'tis my father's mind. 
 That I repair to Rome, I am content. 
 
 ] Goth. And ours, with thine, befall what fortune 
 will. 
 
 Luc. Good imcle, take you in this barbarous 
 Moor, 
 This ravenous tiger, this accursed de\il; 
 Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him. 
 Till he be brought unto the empress' face, 
 For testimony of her foul proceedings : 
 And see the ambnsh of our friends be %trong : 
 
 1 fear the emperor means no good to us. 
 
 Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear. 
 And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth 
 The venomous malice of my swelling heart! 
 
 Luc. Away, inhuman dog ! nnhallow'd slave ! — 
 Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. — 
 
 [Exeunt Got/is, with Aaron. Flourish. 
 The trumpets shew the emperor is at hand. 
 
 Enter SATURNfNUS and Tamoua, icith Tribunes, 
 Senators, and others. 
 
 Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than 
 
 one ? 
 Luc. What boots it thee, to call thyself a sun ? 
 Mar. Rou\e's emperor, jnd nephew, break the 
 parle ; 
 These quarrels must be quiet'y debated. 
 The feast is ready, which the careful 1 itus 
 
 Hath ordain'd to an honourable end. 
 For peace, for lo\ e, lor league, and good to Rome : 
 Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take youi 
 Sat. Marcus, we will. [places. 
 
 [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at 
 table.) 
 
 Enter TiTVS, dressed lite a cook. Lavinia, veiled 
 young Lucius, and others. Titus placet, ih- 
 dishes on the table. 
 
 Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord ; welcome, dreatl 
 queen ; 
 Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; 
 And welcome, ail ; although the cheer be poor, 
 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you, eat oi it. 
 
 Sat, Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? 
 
 Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well 
 To entertain your highness, and your empress. 
 
 Tarn. We are beholden to you, good Andronicug. 
 
 Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you were. 
 My lord tiie emperor, resolve me this; 
 Was it well done of rash Virginius, 
 To slay his daughter with his own right hand, 
 Bc-cause she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflour'd? 
 
 Sat. It was. Andronicus. 
 
 Tit. Your reason, mighty lord ? [shame. 
 
 Sat. Because the girl should not survive her 
 And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 
 
 Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; 
 A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant 
 For me, most wretched, to perform the like :- 
 Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee ; 
 
 [He hills Lavinia.) 
 And with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die ! 
 
 Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural, and un- 
 kind? [me blind. 
 
 Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made 
 I am as woful as Virginius was ; 
 And have a thousand times more cause than he 
 To do this outrage ; — and it is now done. 
 
 Sat. What, was she ravish'd ? tell, who did the 
 deed. [highness feed? 
 
 Tit. Will't please you eat? will't please your 
 
 Tarn. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter 
 thns ? 
 
 Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius: 
 They ravish'd her, and cutaway her tongue. 
 And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. 
 
 Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us jiresently. 
 
 Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; 
 Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, 
 Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 
 'Tis true, 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point 
 
 [Killing Tamora.) 
 
 Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed 
 
 [Killing Titus.) 
 
 Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ? 
 There's meed for meed, death for .i deadly deed. 
 [Kills Saturninus. A great tumult. The peo- 
 ple in confusion disperse. Marcus, Lucius, 
 and their partisans ascend the steps before 
 Titus's house.) 
 
 Mar. You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of 
 By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl [Rome, 
 
 Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, 
 O, let me teach you how to knit again 
 This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, 
 These broken limbs again into one body. 
 
 Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself; 
 And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, 
 Like a foriorn and desperate cast-away, 
 Do shameful execution on herself. 
 But if my frosty signs and chaps of age. 
 Grave witnesses of true experience. 
 Cannot induce you to attend my words, — 
 Speak, Rome's dear friend; [lo Lucius) as ersi «nt 
 
 ancestor. 
 When with his solemn tongue he did discourse. 
 To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear. 
 The story of that baleful burning night, 
 
 43 
 
674 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 When subtle Greeks snrpris'd king Priam's Troy ; 
 
 Tell ns, what Sinon hath bewitch'tl our eats. 
 
 Or who hath brought the fatal engine in, 
 
 That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. — 
 
 My heart is riot compact of Hint, nor steel ; 
 
 Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 
 
 Put floods of tears will drown my oratory, 
 
 And break my very utterance ; even i'the time 
 
 When it should move you to attend me most. 
 
 Lending your kind commiseration : 
 
 Here is a captain, let him tell the tale ; 
 
 Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. 
 
 Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, 
 That cursed Chiron and Demetrius 
 Were they that murdered our emperor's brother; 
 And they it were that ravished our sister : 
 For their fell faults our brotliers were beheaded ; 
 Our father's tears despis'd ; and basely cozen'd 
 Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel out, 
 And sent her enemies unto the grave. 
 Lastly, myself unkindly banished. 
 The gates shut on me, and tuni'd weeping out, 
 To beg relief among Rome's enemies; 
 Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears. 
 And o|)'d their arms to embrace me as a friend : 
 And I am the turn'd-forth, be it known to you. 
 That I have preserv'd her welfare in my blood ; 
 And from her bosom took the enemy's point, 
 Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body. 
 Alas ! you know, I am no vaunter, I ; 
 My scars can witness, dumb although they are. 
 That my report is just, and full of truth. 
 But, soft ; methinks, 1 do digress too much. 
 Citing my worthless praise : O, pardon me ; 
 For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. 
 
 Mar. Now is my turn to speak : Behold this child. 
 \Poiniing to the Child in the arms of an At- 
 
 tendant.) 
 Of this was Tamora deliver'd : 
 The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
 Chief architect and plotter of these woes; 
 'I'he villain is alive in Titus' house, 
 Danjn'd as he is, to witness this is true. 
 Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge 
 These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience. 
 Or more than any living man could bear. 
 Now you have heard the truth, wliat say you, 
 
 Romans ? 
 Have we done aught amiss? Shew us wherein. 
 And, from the place where you behold us now. 
 The poor remainder of Andronici 
 Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast ns down, 
 And on tlie ragged stones beat Ibrth our brains. 
 And make a mutual closureof our house. 
 Speak, Romans, speak ; and, if you say, we shall, , 
 Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and 1 will fall. 
 
 jEmil. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, 
 And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
 Lucius our emperor; for, well I know. 
 The common voice do cry, it shall be so. 
 
 Rom. {.Several speak.) Lucius, all hail ; Rome's 
 royal emperor ! {Lucius, etc. descend.) 
 
 Mar. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house ; 
 
 [To an Attendant.) 
 And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, 
 To be adjudg'd some direful slaughiering death. 
 As putusumeut fur his most wicked life. 
 
 Rom. {Several speak.) Lucius, all hail ; Rome's 
 gracious governor ! 
 
 Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans ; May I govern so. 
 To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe I 
 But, gentle people, give me aim a while, — 
 For nature puts me to a heavy task ; 
 Stand ail aloof; — but, uncle, draw you near, 
 To shed obseqnious tears upon this trunk : — 
 O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, 
 
 {Kisses Titus.) 
 These soiTowful drops u))on the blood-staiu'd face, 
 The last true duties of thy noble son ! 
 
 Mar. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, 
 Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips : 
 O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
 Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them ! 
 
 Luc. Come hither, boy ; come, come, and learn 
 of us 
 To melt in showers : Thy grandsire lov'd thee well : 
 Many a time he dano'd thee on his knee. 
 Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow ; 
 Many a matter hath he told to thee. 
 Meet, and agreeing with thine infancy ; 
 In that resiJect then, like a loving child. 
 Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, 
 Because kind nature doth require it so : 
 Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: 
 Bid him farewell ; commit him to the giav e ; 
 Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. 
 
 Boy. O grandsire, grandsire! even with all ray 
 heart 
 Would I were dead, so yon did live again ! — 
 
 lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping ; 
 My tears will choke nie, if lope my mouth. 
 
 Enter Attendants, ivith Aaron. 
 
 1 Rom, You sad Andronici, have done with woes; 
 Give sentence on this execrable wretch, 
 That hath been breeder of these dire events. |!iim; 
 
 Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish 
 There let him stand, and rave and cry for food : 
 If any one relieves or pities him, 
 For the offence he dies. This is our doom : 
 Some stay, to see him fasten'd in the earth. 
 
 Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and fury 
 dumb ? 
 
 1 am no baby, I, that with base f)rayers, 
 I should repent the evils I have done ; 
 Ten thousand, worse than ever yet I did. 
 Would I perform, if I might have my will ; 
 If one good deed in all my life I did, 
 
 I do repent it from my veiy soul. 
 
 Luc. Some loving friends convey the einperoi 
 hence, 
 And give him burial in his father's grave : 
 My father, and Lavinia, shall Ibrthwith 
 Be closed in our household's monument. 
 As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, 
 No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds. 
 No mournful bell shall ring her burial : 
 But throw her forth to beasts, and birds of prey. 
 Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity ; 
 And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 
 See justice done on Aaron, that danin'd Moor, 
 From whom our heavy haps Lad their beginning : 
 Then, afterwards, t6 order well the state ; 
 That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Enunt. 
 
PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 .^NTIOCHUS. Kimi or Antiorh. 
 PERICLKS. Prince of Tyre. 
 
 HELICANUS, t /„., 7„,, FT 
 ESCANES, ] two Lords of Tyre. 
 
 SlMONtDES. King of Pnitnpolis. 
 CLKON, Governor of Tharsiis 
 LYSIMACHUS, Governor of Mitylene 
 CERIMON, a Lord of Ephesvs. 
 THALIAKD, « Lord of Antioch. 
 PHILEMON, Servant to Cerimon. 
 LEONINE, Servant to Dioni/za. 
 Marshal. 
 
 A Pander, and his Wife, 
 UOULT, tluir Servant. 
 GOVVER, as Chorus. 
 
 The Daiinhler of Aniiockus. 
 UIONYZA. Wife lo Cleon. 
 THAISA. Dniiiiliter to Simonides. 
 MARINA, Daiiijhier in Pericles and Thaisa. 
 LYCHORIDA, Nurse to Marina. 
 DIANA. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, 
 Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers, etc. 
 
 Scene, — Dlspcrsedly in various Cottntr'ies. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ' Enter OoWER. 
 
 Before the Palace of Anlioclt. 
 
 To sing a song; of old was sung, 
 
 Froin ashes ancient Gower is come ; 
 
 Assuming man's infirmities, 
 
 To glad your ear and please your eyes. 
 
 It hath been sung at festivals, 
 
 On ember-eves, and iioly ales ; 
 
 And lords and ladies of tlieir lives 
 
 JT.ive read it for restoratives : 
 
 'Purpose to make men glorious ; 
 
 Et quo antiquitis, eo melius. 
 
 If you, born in these latter times, 
 
 When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes, 
 
 And that to hear an old man sing, • 
 
 May to your wishes pJeasure bring, 
 
 I life would wish, and that I might 
 
 Waste it for you, like taper-light. — 
 
 This city then, Antiocii the great 
 
 Built up for his chiefest seat; 
 
 'I'he fairest in all Syria ; 
 
 (1 tell you what mine authors say:) 
 
 'I'his king unto him took a pheere. 
 
 Who died, and left a female heir, 
 
 So buxom, blithe, and full of face, 
 
 As heaven had lent her all his grace; 
 
 With whom the father liking took. 
 
 And her to incest did provoke : 
 
 Bad father ! to entice Jiis own 
 
 To evil, should be done by none. 
 
 By custom, what they did begin, 
 
 Was, with long use, accoimt no sin 
 
 The beauty oi this sinful dame 
 
 Made many princes thither frame, 
 
 To seek her as a bed-fellow : 
 
 In marriage-pleasures play-fellow : 
 
 Which to prevent, he made a !aw. 
 
 To keep her still, and men in awe,) 
 
 That whoso ask'd her for his wife. 
 
 His riddle told not, lost his life : 
 
 So for her many a wight did die. 
 
 As yon grim looks do testify. 
 
 What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye 
 
 I give, my cause who best can justify. [Exit, 
 
 Scene I. — Antioch. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 EiUer AtixiocHvs, Pericles, and Attendants. 
 
 Ant. Voung i)rince of Tyre, you have at large 
 receiv'd 
 The danger of the task you undertake. 
 
 Per. I have, Antiochus, and with a soul 
 Embolden'd with the glory of her praise. 
 Think death no hazard in this enterprise. {Music.) 
 
 Ant, Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride. 
 For the embracements even of Jove himself; 
 At whose conception (till Lucina reign'd,) 
 Nature this dowry ga\e, to glad her presence. 
 
 The Srtnate-house of planets all did sit. 
 To knit in her their best perfections. 
 
 Enter the Daughter of Antiochus. 
 
 Per, See, where she comes, apparell'd like the 
 spring, 
 Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king 
 Of every virtue gives renown to men.' 
 Her face, the book of praises, where is read 
 Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
 Sorrow were ever ras'd, and testy wrath 
 Could never be her mild companion. 
 Ye gods that made me man, and sway in love^ 
 That have inflam'd desire in my breast, 
 To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, 
 Or die in the ad^entHre, be my helps. 
 As I am son and servant to your will, 
 To compass such a boundless happiuess! 
 
 Ant. Prince Pericles, — 
 
 Per. That would be son to great Antiochus. 
 
 A7it. Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, 
 With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd ; 
 For death-like dragons here affright thee h;ird : 
 Her face, like hea\en, enticeth thee to view 
 A countless glury, which desert nnist gain : 
 And which, without desert, because tliine eye 
 Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. 
 \ ou sometime faracus princes, like tliyself", 
 Drawn by report, adient'rous by desire, ' fpale, 
 Tell thee with speechless tongues, and senibianc 
 That, witiiout covering, save yon field of star s. 
 They here stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars ; 
 And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist 
 For going on death's net, whom none resist. 
 
 Per. Antiochus, I tiiank thee, who hath taught 
 My frail mortality to know itself 
 Aiid by those fearful objects to prepare 
 'I'his body, like to them, to what I must : 
 For death remeniber'd, should be like a mirror. 
 Who tells us, life's but breath ; to trust it, error 
 I'll make my will then; and, as sick men do, 
 VVho know the world, see hea\en, but feeling woe. 
 Gripe not at earthly joys, as erst they did ; 
 So I bequeath a happy peace to you. 
 And all good men, as every prince should do ; 
 My riches to the earth from whence they came; 
 But my unspotted fire of love to you. 
 
 {To the Datighter of Antiochus.] 
 Thus ready for the way of life or death, 
 I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus, 
 Scorning advice. 
 
 Ant. Read the conclusion then ; 
 
 Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, 
 .\s these before thee thou thyself shall bleed. 
 
 Daugh. In all, save that, may'st thou prove 
 prosperous .' 
 In all, save that, I wish thee happiuess ! 
 
 Per. Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, 
 Nor ask advice of any other thuughl 
 
C76 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act 1. 
 
 Butfnitlifiiiness,aTi(l courag'P. [HereaasT/ie riddle.) 
 J am no viper, yet I feed 
 On tnother's Jlesh, which did 7ne breed: 
 I sourjht n husband, in which labour, 
 1 found that kindness in a father. 
 Ke^s father, son, and husband 7ndd, 
 I mother, wife, and, Jjet his child 
 How they may be, and yet in two, 
 As you tvill live, resolve it you. 
 Sharp physic is tiie last, but, O you powers ! 
 That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, 
 Why cloud tliey not their sii;hts perpetually, 
 If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? 
 Fair glass of Jifjht, I lov'd you, and could still, 
 
 {Takes hold of the hand of the Princess.) 
 Were not this glorious casket stor'd with ill • 
 But I must tell you, — now, my thoughts revolt; 
 For he's no man on whom perfections wait. 
 That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate. 
 You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings ; 
 Who, tinger'd to make man his lawful music. 
 Would draw heaven down, and all the gods fo 
 
 hearken; 
 But, being play'd upon before your time. 
 Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime : 
 Good sooth, J care not for you. 
 
 Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life, 
 For that's an article within our law, 
 As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expir'd ; 
 Either expound now, or receive your sentence. 
 
 Per. Great king. 
 Few love to hear the sins they love to act ; 
 'Twoiild 'braid yourself too near for me to tell it. 
 Who has a book of all that monarchs do, 
 He's more secure to keep it shut than shewn ; 
 For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind, • 
 Blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself; 
 And yet the end of all is bought thus dear. 
 The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: 
 To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole 
 
 casts 
 Copp'd liills towards heaven, to tell, the earth is 
 
 wrong'd 
 By man's oppression : and the poor worm doth die 
 
 for't. 
 Kings are earth's gods : in vice their law's their will ; 
 And if Jove stray, who dares say, Jove doth ill? 
 It is enougli you know ; and it is lit. 
 What being more known grows worse, fo smother it. 
 All love the womb that their first beings bred. 
 Then give my tongue like leave to love n)y head. 
 Ant. Heaven, that I had thy head ! he has found 
 the meaning ; — 
 But I will gloze with him. {Aside.) Young pr'uicc 
 
 of 'i'yre. 
 Though by the tenonr of our strict edict, 
 Y'our exposition misinterpreting. 
 We might proceed to cancel of your days ; 
 Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree 
 As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: 
 Forty days longer we do respite you ; 
 If by which time our secret be undone, 
 This mercy shews, we'll joy in such a son: 
 And until then, your entertain shall be. 
 As (loth befit our honour and your worth. 
 [Exeunt Antiochus. hisDaughter, and Attendants, 
 
 Per. How courtesy would seem to cover sin ! 
 When what is done is like an hypocrite. 
 The which is good in nothing but in sight. 
 If it be true that I interpret false. 
 Then were it certain, you were not so bad, 
 As with foul incist to abuse your soul ; 
 Where now you're both a fatiier and a son. 
 By your untimely claspings witii your child, 
 (W'liich pleasure fits an husliaud. not a father;) 
 And she an cater of her mother's flesh. 
 By the def'lin;; of her parent's bed ; 
 And both like aerpcnt.s are, who though they feed 
 On swt-etest flowers, yet tlicy poison breed. 
 Ai;tioch, farcw'jil i for wisdom sees, those men 
 
 Blush not in actions blacker than the night. 
 Will shun no course to keep them from the light 
 One sin, I know, another doth provoke ; 
 Murder's as near to lust, as (lame to smoke. 
 Poison and treason are the hands of sin. 
 Ay, and the targets, fo put off the shame : 
 Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keej) you clear. 
 By flight I'll shun the danger, which I i'ear. [E.xit, 
 
 Re-enter Antiochds. 
 
 Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the which 
 To have his head. [we mean 
 
 He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy. 
 Nor tell the world, Antiochns doth siu 
 In such a loathed manner: 
 And therefore instantly this pnnce must die; 
 For by his fall my honour must keep high. 
 Who attends on us there ? 
 
 Enter Thaliard. 
 
 Thai. Doth your highness call ? 
 
 Ant. Thaliard, you're of our chamber, and our 
 mind 
 Partakes her i>rivate actions to your secresy ; 
 And for your faithfulness we will advance you. 
 Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold ; 
 We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him; 
 It fits thee not to ask the reason why, 
 Because we bid it. Say, is it done V 
 _^ Thai.- My lord, 
 
 'Tis done. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Ant. Enough ; 
 Lest your breath cooi yourself, telling your haste. 
 
 Mess. My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. As thou 
 
 Wilt live, fly after : and as an arrow, shot 
 From a well experienc'd archer, hits the mark 
 His eye doth level at, so ne'er retam, 
 Unless thou say. Prince Pericles is dead. 
 
 Thai. My lord, if I 
 Can get him once within my pistol's length, 
 I'll make him sure : so farewell to your highness. 
 
 Exit. 
 
 Ant. Thaliard, adieu ! till Pericles be dead. 
 My heart can lend no succour to my head. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. — Tyre. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Pbhicles, Helicanus, and other Lorda. 
 Per. Let none disturb us : Why this change of 
 
 thoughts ? 
 The sad companion, dull-ey'd melancholy. 
 By me so us'd a guest is, not an hour. 
 In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, 
 (Tiie tomb where grief should sleep,) can breei} 
 
 me quiet! fshun tliem. 
 
 Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes 
 And danger, wliich I feared, is at Antioch, 
 Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here: 
 Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, 
 Nor yet the otiier's distance comfort me. 
 Tiien it is thus: the passions of the mind. 
 That have their firet conception by mis-dread. 
 Have after-nourisluiient and life by care; 
 And wliat was first but fear what might be done. 
 Grows elder now, and cares it be not dune. 
 And so with me ; — the great Antiochus 
 (Gainst whom I am too little to contend, 
 Since he's so great, can make his will hioact,) 
 VVill think me speaking, though I swear to silence; 
 Nor boots it me to say, I honour him. 
 If he suspect I may dishoiuiur him: 
 And wiiat may make him blush in being known, 
 He'll stop the course by which it might be kujwn ; 
 With hostile forces iie'll o'erspread the land. 
 And with the oslent of war will look so huge, 
 Aiuazemcnt shall drive courage froui the state; 
 Oiu- iricii be vauqirisird, ere they do resist, 
 And sulijtils puiush'd, that ne'er thought niVrnce 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 G77 
 
 Wliich care of them, not pity of myself, 
 C\V'lio am no imire but as tlie tops of trees, 
 IVhich fence the routs tliey grow by, and defend 
 
 them,) 
 Makes both my body pine, and soul to languish, 
 And jiunisi) that before, that he woidd punish. 
 
 1 Lord. Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast ! 
 
 2 Lord. And keep your mind, till you return to us. 
 Peaceful and comfortable ! 
 
 Hel. Peace, peace, my lords, and give experience 
 tongue. 
 They do abuse the king that flatter him : 
 For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; 
 The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark, 
 To which tliat breath gives heat and stronger 
 
 glowing ; 
 Whereas reproof, obedient and in order. 
 Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. 
 When sigiiior So'otii here does proclaim a peace. 
 He flatters you, makes war upon your life : 
 Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if yon please ; 
 I cannot be much lower than my knees. [look 
 
 Per. All leave us else ; but let your cares u'er- 
 iVhat shipping, and what lading's in our haven. 
 And then return to us. [E.veunt Lards.] Helicanus, 
 
 thou 
 Hast moved us : vvhat seest thou in our looks ? 
 
 Hel. An angry brow, dread lord. 
 
 Per. If there be such a dart in princes' frowns. 
 How durst thy tongue move anger to our face ? 
 
 Hel. How dare the plants look up to heaven, 
 from whence 
 They have tlieir nourishment? 
 
 Per. Thou know'st I have power 
 
 To take thy life. 
 
 Hel. (htieelinj.) I have ground tlie axe myself; 
 Do you but strike the blow. 
 
 Per. Rise, pr'ythee, rise; 
 
 Sit down, sit down ; thou art no flatterer : 
 I thank thee for it ; and high heaven forbid, 
 That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid ! 
 Fit counsellor, and servant for a prince. 
 Who by thy wisdom mak'st a piince thy servant, 
 What would'st thou have me do ? 
 
 Hel. With patience bear 
 
 Such griefs as you do lay upon yourself. 
 
 Per. Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus; 
 Wlio minister'st a potion into me, 
 'I'hat thou would'st tremble to receive thyself. 
 Attend me then : I went to Antioch, 
 Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death, 
 i sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, 
 From whence an issue I might propagate. 
 Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys. 
 Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; 
 Trie rest (hark in tliine ear,) as black as incest ; 
 VVhich by my knowledge found, the sinful fatlier 
 Seem'd not to strike, but smooth : but thou know'st 
 
 this, 
 Tis time to fear, when tyrants seem to kiss. 
 Which fear so grew in me, I hither fled, 
 Under the covering of a carefid night, 
 Who seem'd my gcod protector; and being here, 
 Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. 
 1 knew him tyrannous ; and tyrants' fears 
 Decrease liot, hot grow faster than their years: 
 And should he doubt it, (as no doubt he doth,) 
 That I should open to tlie listening air, 
 How m:'ny worthy princes' bloods were shed. 
 To kee;j h:s bed of blackness unlaid ope, — 
 To lop that doubt, he'll fill tiiis laud with arms, 
 And make pretence of wrong tiiat I have done him ; 
 When ;'!!, for mine, if I may call't ofl'euce, 
 Must fee! wfjr's blow, wiio S|)ares not innocence : 
 VVijichlove to all (of wiiich thyself art one. 
 Who now reprov'st me for it) — 
 . Hel. Alas, sir! 
 
 Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from 
 my cheeks, 
 lAusings into my mind, a IhousaDd doubts 
 
 How I might stop this tempest, ere it came; 
 And finding little cunifort to relieve them, 
 I thought it princely charity to grieve thenj. 
 
 Hel. Weil, my lord, since you have- given cu 
 leave to speak, 
 Freely I'll speak. Antiochus you fear, 
 And justly too, I think, you fear tiie tyrant, 
 Who either by public war, or private treason, 
 Will take away your life. 
 Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, 
 Till that his rage and anger be forgot. 
 Or destinies do cut his thread of life. 
 Your rule direct to any ; if to me. 
 Day ser> e.« not light more faithful than I'll be. . 
 
 Per. I do not doubt thy taith ; 
 But should he wrong my liberties in absence — 
 
 Hel. We'll mingle bloods together in the earth, 
 From whence we had our being and our birth. 
 
 Per. Tyre, I now look frow thee then, and to 
 Tharsus 
 Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; , 
 And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. 
 'I'he care I had and have of subjects' good. 
 On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it 
 I'll take thy word for faith, not ask tiiine oath ; 
 Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both 
 But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe, 
 That lime of both this truth shall ne'er convince, 
 Thou shew'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. — Tyre. An Ante-chamher intlie 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Tililiard. 
 
 Thai. So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. 
 Here must I kill king Pericles; and if I do not, I 
 am sure to be hanged at home : 'tis dangerous. — 
 Well, I perceive lie was a wise fellow, and had 
 good discretion, that being bid to ask what he 
 would of the king, desired he might know none of 
 his secrets. Now do I see he had some reason for 
 it: for if a king bid a man be a villain, he is bount' 
 by the indenture of his oath to be one. — Hush, here 
 come the lords of Tyre. 
 
 Enter Helicanus, Escakes, and other Lords. 
 
 Hel, You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre 
 Further to question of your king's departure. 
 His seal'd commission, left in trust with me. 
 Doth speak sufficiently; he's gone to travel. 
 
 Thai. How ! the king gone ! {Aside. 
 
 Hel. If further yet you will be satisfied. 
 Why, as it were unlicens'd of your loves. 
 He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. 
 Being at Antioch — 
 
 Thai. What from Antioch ■' (J stV/f. 
 
 Hel. Royal Antiochus (on what cause I kuow i o*. 
 Took some displeasure at him; at least he jmii; .i so 
 And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinu'd. 
 To shew his sorrow, wouid correct liimselt : 
 So puts himself into the shipman's toil. 
 With whom each minute threatens life or d •I'h. 
 
 Thai. Well, I perceive ( -iiide. 
 
 I shall not be hang'd now, although I would , 
 But since he's gone, the king it sure must please, 
 He 'scap'd the land, to perish on the seas. — 
 But I'll present me. Peace to the lords of Tyre ! 
 
 Hel. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. 
 
 Thai. From him I come. 
 With message unto princely Pericles ; 
 But, since my binding, as I have understood 
 Your lurd has lonk himself to unknown travels. 
 My message must return from whence it came, 
 
 Hel. We have no reason to desire it, since 
 Commended to our master, not to us : 
 Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, — 
 As friends to Antioch. we may feast ia Tyre. 
 
 [Ernint 
 
678 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene IV. — Tharsus. A Room m the Governor's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Cleon, Dionyza, and Attendants. 
 
 Cle, My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, 
 And by relating tales of other's griefs, 
 See if 'twill teach us to forget our own ? 
 • Dio. That were to blow at fire, in hope to quench it ; 
 For who digs hills because they do aspire, 
 Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. 
 O my distressed lord, even such our griefs ; 
 Here they're but felt, and seen with mistful eyes, 
 Uiit like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. 
 
 C/e. O Dionyza. 
 Who wanteth i'ood, and will not say he wants it, 
 Or can conceal his hunger, till he famish ? 
 Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep our woes 
 Into the air: our eyes do weep, till lungs 
 Fetch breatii that may proclaim them louder; that, 
 If heaven slumber, while their creatures want, 
 They may awake their helps to comfort them. 
 I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years, 
 And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears. 
 
 Dio. I'll do my best, sir. 
 
 Cle. This Tharsus, o'er which I have government, 
 (A city, on whom plenty held full hand,) 
 For riches, strew'd herself even in the streets ; 
 Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the 
 
 clouds. 
 And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at; 
 Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd. 
 Like one another's glass to trim them by: 
 Their tables were stor'd full, to glad the sight, 
 And not so much to feed on, as delight ; 
 All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, 
 The name of help grew odious to repeat. 
 
 Dio. O, 'tis too true. [change, 
 
 Cle. But see what heaven can do! By this our 
 These mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea, and air. 
 Were all too little to content and please, 
 Although they gave their creatures in abundance. 
 As houses are defil'd for want of us", 
 They are now starv'd for want of exercise : 
 Those palates, who not yet two summers yoonger, 
 Must have inventions to delight the taste, 
 Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it; 
 Those mothers, who, to nousle up their babes, 
 Thought nought too curious, are ready now. 
 To eat those little darlings, whom they lov'd. 
 So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife 
 Draw lots, who tirst shall die to lengthen life : 
 Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping ; 
 Here many sink, yet those which see them fall. 
 Have scarce strength left to give them burial. 
 Is not this true ? 
 
 Dio. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. 
 
 Cle. O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup 
 And her prosperities so largely taste, 
 With their superfluous riots, hear tiiese tears ! 
 The misery oi Tharsus may be theirs. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lord. Where's the lord governor ? 
 
 Cle. Here. 
 Speak out thy sorrows, which thou bring'sl in haste. 
 For comfort is too for for us to eipect. 
 
 Lord. We have descried, upon our neighbouring 
 shore, 
 A portly sail of ships make hitherward. 
 
 Cle. I thought as much. 
 One sorrow never conies, but brings an heir. 
 That may succeed as his inheritor ; 
 And so in ours : some neighbouring nation, 
 Taking advantage of our misery. 
 Hath stufTd these hollow vessels with their power. 
 To beat us down, the which are down already; 
 And make a conquest of unhappy me, 
 W^hereas no glory's got to overcome. 
 
 Lord. That's the least fear; for, by the semblance 
 01 their white flags display'd, they bring us peace. 
 
 And come to u.s as favourers, not as foes. 
 
 Cle. Thou speak'st like hira's untutor'd to repeat. 
 
 Who makes tiie fairest shew, means most deceit. 
 
 But bring they what they will, what need we fear? 
 
 The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there. 
 
 Go tell their general, we attend him here, 
 
 To know for what he comes, and whelice he conies. 
 
 And what he craves. 
 
 Lord. I go, my lord. [Exit, 
 
 Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist 
 
 If wars, we are unable to resist. 
 
 Enter Pericles, wit/i Attendants. 
 
 Per. Lord governor; for so we hear you are. 
 Let not our ships and number of our men 
 Be, like a beacon fir'd, to amaze your eyes. 
 We have heard your miseries as i'ar as I'yre, 
 And seen the desokition of your streets : 
 Nor come we to add sorrrow to your tears. 
 But to relieve them of their heavy load ; 
 And these our ships you happily may think 
 Are, like the Trojan horse, war-stuti"'d within 
 With bloody views, expecting overthro.v. 
 Are stor'd with corn, to make your needy bread. 
 And give them life, who are huBger-slarv'd, half 
 dead. 
 
 All. The gods of Greece protect you! 
 And we'll pray for you. 
 
 Per, Rise, I pray you, rise; 
 
 We do not look for reverence, but for love. 
 And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. 
 
 Cle. The which when any shall not gratify. 
 Or pay you with unthankfniness in thought. 
 Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves. 
 The cur.se of heaven and men succeed their evils. 
 Till when (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen,) 
 Your grace is welcome to our town and us. 
 
 Per, Which welcome we'll accept; feast here a 
 while, 
 Until our stars, that frown, lend us a smile. [Excuni^ 
 
 ACT ir. 
 
 Enter Gower. 
 
 Goiv, Here have you seen a mighty king 
 His child, I wis, to incest bring; 
 A better prince, and benign loni. 
 Prove awful both in deed and word. 
 Be quiet then, as men shculd be. 
 Till he hath pnss'd necessity. 
 I'll shew you those in troubles leigu, 
 Losing a mite, a mountain gain. 
 The good in conversation 
 (To whom I give my benison.) 
 Is still at Tharsus, where each man 
 Thinks all is writ he spoken can: 
 And, to remember what be does. 
 Gild his statue glorious: 
 But tidings to the contrary 
 Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? 
 [Duynb shew.) 
 
 Enter at wte door Pericles. ialJcing ivith Cleon ; 
 all the train with them. Enter at another door, 
 a Gentleman, with a letter to Pericles ; Pericle.f 
 shetvs the letter to Cleon ; then gives the Mes- 
 senger a reward, and knights him. Exeunt 
 Pericles, Cleon, §("0. severally. 
 
 Gotv. Good Helicane hath staid at home. 
 Not to eat honey, like a drone. 
 From others' labours; forth he .strive 
 To killen bad, keep good alive : 
 And, to fulfil his prince' desire. 
 Sends word of all that haps in Tyre:_ 
 How Thaliard came full bent with sin. 
 And hid intent, to murder him ; 
 And that in Tharsus was not best 
 Longer for him to make his rest : 
 He knowing so, put forth to seas, 
 Where when men been, there's seldom ease: 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 ero 
 
 For now tlie wind beg:ins to blow; 
 
 'I'lmiider aJiove, and deeps below. 
 
 Make such unquiet, that the s!ii|) 
 
 Sliould house liint safe, is wrcck'd and split; 
 
 And he. good prince, having all lost. 
 
 By waves from coast to coast is tost; 
 
 All perishen of man, of pelf, 
 
 Ne aught escapen but himself; 
 
 Till fortune, tird with doing bad, 
 
 Threw him ashore, to give him glad : 
 
 And here he comes: what shall be ne:t. 
 
 Pardon old Gower ; this long's the text [Exit. 
 
 SoENB I. — Pentapotis. An open Place by the Sea- 
 side. 
 
 Enter Pericles, wet. 
 Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry stars of heaven ! 
 Wind, rain, and tliunder, remember, earthly man 
 Is but a substance that must yield to you ; 
 And I, as fits my nature, do obey you : 
 Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, 
 Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left uie breath 
 Nothing to think on, hut ensuing death : 
 Let it suffice the greatness of your powers. 
 To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; 
 And having thrown him from your wat'ry grave. 
 Here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave. 
 
 Enter three Fishermen. 
 
 1 FLsk. What, ho, Pilche ! 
 
 2 Fish. Ho ! come, and bring away the nets. 
 1 Fish. What Patch breech, I say.' 
 
 3 Fish. What say you, master '' 
 
 1 Ftsh. Look how thou stirrest now ! come away, 
 or ril fetch thee with a wannion. 
 
 3 Fis/u 'Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor 
 men that were cast away before us, e\ en now. 
 
 1 Fish. Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to 
 hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to help 
 them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help our- 
 selves. 
 
 3 Fish. Nay, master, said not I as much, when I 
 saw the porpus, how he bounced aud tumbled? they 
 say, they are half fish, half flesh: a plague on them, 
 they ne'er come, but I look to be washed. Master, 
 1 marvel how tlie fishes live in the sea, 
 
 1 F^ish. Wiiy, as men do a- land ; tiie great ones eat 
 up the little ones : I can compare our rich misers to 
 nothing so fitly as to a whale; "a plays and tumbles, 
 driving the poor fry before hiia, and at last devours 
 them all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard 
 on a'the land, who never leave gaping, till they've 
 swallow'd the whole parish, church, steeple, bells, 
 and all. 
 
 Per. A pretty moral. 
 
 3 Fish, liut, master, if I had been the sexton, I 
 would have been that day in the belfry. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, man ? 
 
 3 Fish. IJecause he should have swallowed me 
 too: and when I had been in his belly, I would have 
 kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should 
 never have lett, till lie cast bells, steeple, church, 
 and parish, up again. Ijut if the good king iSimouides 
 were oi my mind — 
 
 Per. Sinioiiides ? 
 
 3 Fish. We would purge the land of these drones, 
 tliat rob the bee of iier honey. 
 
 Per. How from the fiuiiy subject of the sea 
 These fishers tell the infirmities of men; 
 And fro;n their wafry empire recollect 
 All that may men approve, or men detect I — 
 Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. 
 
 2 Fish. I lonest ! gi>od iellow. wliat's that? if it be 
 a day fits you. scratch it out of the calendar, and no 
 body will look alb-r it. 
 
 Per. Nay, see, the sea liath cast upon yonr coast — 
 y Fish. VV'hat a drunken knave was the sea, to 
 
 cast tiiee in our way I 
 
 Per. A niiiR, v-iiPin botli the waters and the wind, 
 
 la that vast tennis-court, bath made the ball 
 
 For them to play upon, entreats you pity him ; 
 He asks of you, that never us'd to beg. 
 
 1 Fish. iSo, friend, cannot you beg? here's them in 
 our country of Greece, gets more with begging, than 
 we can do with working. 
 
 2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes, then ? 
 Per. I never practis'd it. 
 
 2 Fish. Nay, then, thon wilt starve sure ; for here's 
 nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou can'st fish 
 for't. 
 
 Per. What I have been, I have forgot to know; 
 But what I am, want teaches me to think on ; 
 A man shrunk up with cold : my veins are chill, 
 And have no more of life, than may suffice 
 To give my tongue that heat, to ask yonr help; 
 Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead. 
 For I am a man, pray see me buried. 
 
 1 Fish. Die, quotha? Now gods forbid ! I have 
 a gown here , come, put in on ; keep thee warm. 
 Now, afore me, a handsome fellow ! Come, thou slialt 
 go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish f jr 
 fasting-days, and moreo'er, puddings and flapjacks ; 
 and thon shalt be welcome. 
 
 Per. I thank you, sir. [not beg. 
 
 2 Fish. Hark you, my friend, you said you could 
 Per. I did but crave. 
 
 2 Fish. But crave ? Then PlI turn craver too, aud 
 so I shall 'scape whipping. 
 
 Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, then? 
 
 2 Fish. O, not all, my friend, not all ; for if all your 
 beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office, 
 than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go-diaw up the 
 net. [Exeunt two of the Fishermen. 
 
 Per. How well this honest mirth becomes their 
 labour ! 
 
 1 Fish. Hark you, sir ! do you know where you 
 
 Per. Not well. fare ? 
 
 1 Fish. Why, I'll tell you: this is called Penta- 
 polis, and oiu' king, the good king Simonides. 
 
 Per. Tlie good king Simonides, do you call him ? 
 
 1 Fis/i. Ay, sir; and he deserves to be so called, 
 for his peaceable reign, and good government. 
 
 Per. He is a happy king, since from his subjects 
 He gains the name ot good, by his government. 
 How (ar is his coint distant from this shore ? 
 
 1 Fish. Marry, sir, half a day's journey ; and I'll 
 tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is 
 her birth-day; and there are princes and knights 
 come from all parts of the world, to just and tourney 
 for her love. 
 
 Per. Did but my fortunes equal my desires, 
 I'd wish to make one there. 
 
 1 Fish. O, sir, tilings must be as they may; and 
 what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal lor — 
 his wife's soul. 
 
 Re-enter the two Fishermen, drawing up a net. 
 
 2 Fish. Help, master, help ! here's a fish hangs 
 in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill 
 hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last 
 and 'tis turned to a rusty armour. [see it 
 
 Per. An armour, friends! I pray yon, let me 
 Thanks, forti'.ne, yet, that after all my crosses. 
 Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself: 
 And, tiiough it was mine own, part of mine heri- 
 tage. 
 Which my dead father did bequeath to me. 
 With this strict charge, (even as he left his life,) 
 Keep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield 
 'Twixt me and death; (and pointed to this brace:'i 
 For that it savd me, keep it; in like necessity. 
 Which fjods protect theefroni! it may defendihe2. 
 It kept where I kept, I so dearly lov'd it; 
 Till the rough seas, that spare not any man. 
 Took it in rage, thoui^h calm'd, they give"! again 
 I thank thee for't; my shipwrecit's novv no ill. 
 Since 1 ha%e here my father's gift by will. 
 
 1 Fijsh. What mean you, sir? [worth. 
 
 Per. To beg of yon, kind friends, this coa; of 
 For it was sometime target to a king ; 
 
680 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 I know it by this mark. He lov'd me dearly, 
 
 And for his sake, I wish tiie having of it ; 
 
 And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's court, 
 
 Where with't I may appear a gentleman ; 
 
 And if that ever my low fortunes better, 
 
 I'll pay your bounties ; till then, rest your debtor. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady ? 
 
 Per. I'll shew the virtije I have borne in arms. 
 
 1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods give 
 tliee good on't ! 
 
 2 Fish. Ay, but hark yon, my friend ; 'twas we 
 that made up this garment through the rough seams 
 of the waters : there are certain condolements, cer- 
 tain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remem- 
 ber from whence yoii had it. 
 
 Per. Believe't, I will. 
 Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel ; 
 And spite of all the rupture of the sea. 
 This jewel holds his biding on my arm ; 
 Unto thy value will I mount myself 
 Upon a courser, whose delightful steps 
 Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. — 
 Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided 
 Of a pair of bases. 
 
 2 Fish. We'll sure provide : thou shalt have my 
 best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee 
 to the court myself. 
 
 Per. Then honour be but a goal to my will ; 
 This day III rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A public way, or platform, 
 leading tu the lists. A pavilion by the side 
 of it, for the reception of the King, Princess, 
 Lords, §fc. 
 
 Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 Sim. Are the kuights ready to begin the triumph ? 
 
 1 Lord. They are, my liege ; 
 And stay your coming to present themselves. 
 
 Sim. Return them, we are ready; and our 
 daughter, 
 In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, 
 Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat 
 For men to see, and seeing wonder at. [Exit a Lord. 
 
 Thai It pleaseth you, my father, to express 
 My commendations great, whose merit's less. 
 
 Sim. "Tis fit it should be so ; for princes are 
 A model, which heaven makes like to itself: 
 As jewels lose their glory, if neglected. 
 So princes their renown, if not respected. 
 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain 
 The labour of each knight, in his device. [form. 
 
 Thai. Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll per- 
 
 Enter a Knight ; he passes over the stage, and his 
 Squire presents his shield to the Princess. 
 
 Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer himself? 
 Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; 
 And tlie de\ ice he bears upon his shield 
 Is a black ilithiop, reaching at the sun ; 
 The word, Ltix tna vita mihi. 
 
 Sim. He loves you well, that holds his life of you. 
 {The second Knight passes.) 
 Who is the second, tliat presents himself? 
 
 Thai. A prince of Macedon, my royal father; 
 And the device he bears upon his shield 
 Is an arm'd knight, that's conquer'd by a lady : 
 The motto thus, in Spanish, Piti per diilcura que 
 per fnerga. ( The third Knight ])asses.) 
 Sim. And what's the third ? 
 Thai. The third of Antiocb ; 
 
 And his device, a wreath of chivalry : 
 The word. Me pompa: provexit apex. 
 
 (The fourth Knight passes.) 
 Sim. What is the fourth ? 
 
 Thai. A burning torch, that's turned upside down ; 
 The word. Qi/od me atit, me extinguit. 
 
 Sim. Which shews, that beauty hath his power 
 and will, 
 VV lii'-h can as well inflame, as it can kill. 
 
 The fifth Kn ight passes. ) 
 
 Thai. The fifth, nn hand environed with clouds ; 
 Holding out gold, that's by the touchstone tried : 
 The motto thus, Sic spectanda fides. 
 
 {The sixth Knight passes.) 
 
 Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which tlie 
 knight himself 
 With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd ? 
 
 Thai. He seems a stranger; but his present is 
 A vvither'd branch, that's only green at top ; 
 The motto. In hac spe vivo. 
 
 Sim. A pretty mora! ; 
 From the dejected state wherein he is, 
 He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 
 
 1 Lord. He had need mean better than his out- 
 
 ward shew 
 Can any way speak in his just commend : 
 For, by his rusty outside, he appears [lance. 
 
 'I'o have practis'd more the whipstock, Uian the 
 
 2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he comes 
 To an honour'd triumph, strangely furnished. 
 
 3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armour rust 
 Until this day, to scour it in the dust. 
 
 Si7n. Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan 
 The outward habit by the inward man. 
 But stay, the knights are coming; we'll withdraw 
 Into the gallery. [Exeunt. 
 
 {Great shouts, and all cry, Tlie mean knight.) 
 
 Scene lU.— The same. A Hall of State. A 
 Banquni prepared. 
 
 Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, Knights, cmd 
 Attendants. 
 
 Sim. Knights, 
 To say you are welcome, were snperfTuous. 
 To place upon the volume of your deeds. 
 As in a title-|iage, your worth in arms. 
 Were more tlian you expect, or more than's fit. 
 Since every worth in shew commends itself. 
 Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast : 
 You are my guests. 
 
 Thai. But yon, my knight and guest ; 
 
 To whom this wreath of victory I give. 
 And crown you king of this day's happiness. 
 
 Per. 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit. 
 
 Sim. Call it by what you will, the day is yours; 
 And here, I hope, is none that envies it. 
 In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, 
 To make .some good, but others to exceed. 
 And you're her labour'd scholar. Come, queen 
 
 o'the feast, 
 (For, daughter, so you are,) here take your place : 
 Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. 
 
 Knights. We .^re honour'd much by good Simo- 
 nides. [love, 
 
 Si7n. Your presence glads our days ; honour w« 
 For who hates honour, hates the gods above. 
 
 Marsh. Sir, yond's your place. 
 
 Per. Some other is more fit. 
 
 1 Knight. Contend not, sir ; for we are gentlemen> 
 That neither in our heajts, nor ontward eyes. 
 Envy the great, nor do the low despise. 
 
 Per. You are right courteous knights. 
 
 Sim. Sit, sit, sir; sit 
 
 Per. By Jove, I wonder, th:it is king of thought^ 
 These cates resist me, she not thought upon. 
 
 Thai. By Juno, that is queen 
 Of marriage, all the viands that I eat 
 Do seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat.' 
 Sure he's a gallant gentleman. 
 
 Sim. He's but 
 
 A country gentleman : [done; 
 
 He has done no more than other knights have 
 Broken a stall", or so; so let it pass. 
 
 Thai. To me he seems like diamond to glasa. 
 
 Per. Yon king's to me, like to my father's 
 picture. 
 Which tells me, in that glory once he was; 
 Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne. 
 And he the sim, for them to reverence. 
 None, that beheld him, but, like lesser lights 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 681 
 
 Did vail their crowns to his supremacy ; 
 
 Wiiere now his son's a glow-worm in the night, 
 The witch hath fire in darkness, none in light; 
 Whereby I see that Time's liie king of men, 
 For lie's their parent, and he is (heir grave. 
 And gives them what he will, not what they crave. 
 
 Sim. VVhat, are you merry, knights ? 
 
 1 Knight. Who can be other, in this royal pre- 
 sence ? [brim, 
 
 Sim. Here, with a cnp that's stor'd unto the 
 (As yon do love, fill to your mistress' lips,) 
 We drink this health to you. 
 
 Knights. We thank your grace. 
 
 Sim. Vet pause a while ; 
 Yon knight, methinks, doth sit too melancholy, 
 As iCthe entertainment in our court 
 Had not a shew might countervail his worth. 
 Note it not you, Thaisa ? 
 
 Tluii. What is it 
 
 To me, my father ? 
 
 Sim. O, attend, my daughter; 
 
 Princes, in this, should li\e like gods abo\e, 
 Wiio freely give to every one that comes 
 'I'o honour them : and princes, not doing so, 
 Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd 
 Are wondfr'd at. 
 
 Therefore to make's entrance more sweet, here say. 
 We drink thi'3 standing-bowl of wine to liim. 
 
 Thai. Alas, my father, it befits not me 
 Unto a stjanger knight to be so bold ; 
 He may my proflfeif take for an offence. 
 Since men take women' gifts for impudence. 
 
 Sim. How ! 
 Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. 
 
 Tliai, Now, by tlie gods, he could not please me 
 better. {Aside.) 
 
 I Sim, And further tell him, we desire to know. 
 Of wlience he is, his name and pare;itage. 
 
 Thai. The king my fatlier, sir, has drunk to you. 
 
 Per. I thank him. 
 
 Thai. Wishing it so much blood unto your life. 
 
 Per. I thank both him and you, and pledge hira 
 freely. 
 
 Thai, .^nd further he desires to know of you. 
 Of whence you are, your name and parentage. 
 
 Per. A gentleman of Tyre — (my name, Pericles ; 
 My education being in arts and arms;) — 
 Who, looking for adventures in the world. 
 Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, 
 And, after shipwreck, driven upon this shore. 
 
 Thai. He thanks your grace; names himself Peri- 
 A gentleman of Tyre, who only by [cles, 
 
 iVIisfortune of the seas has been bereft 
 Of ships and men, and cast ujion this shore. 
 
 Sim. Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune. 
 And will awake hira from his melancholy. 
 Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on tr.Hes, 
 And waste the time, which looks for other revels. 
 Even in your armours, as you are address'd, 
 Will very well become a soldier's dance. 
 [ will not have excuse, with saying, this 
 Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads; 
 Since they love men in arms, as well as beds. 
 
 {The Knights dance.) 
 So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well perl'orm'd. 
 Come, sir; 
 
 Here is a lady that wants breathing too : 
 And I have iiften heard, you knights of Tyre 
 Are excellent in making ladies trip; 
 And that tiieir measures are as excellent. [lord. 
 
 Per. In tliose that jiracfise tliem, tiiey are, tny 
 
 Siin. O, that's as much, ;(S you would be denied 
 {T/te Knights and Ladies dance.) 
 Of your fair courtesy. — Unclasp, unclasp ; 
 Thanks, gentlemen, to all ; all have done well. 
 But you tliebest. {To Pericles.) Pages and lights, 
 conduct [sir, 
 
 These knights unto their several lodgings : Yours, 
 We have given order to be next our own. 
 
 Per. I am at your grace's pleasure. 
 
 Sim. Princes, it is too late to talk of love. 
 For tiiat's the inar'k 1 know you level at : 
 Therefore each one betake him to his rest; 
 To-morrow, all for speeding do their best. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene IV. — Tyre, A Room in the Governor's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Helicanus and Escanes. 
 
 Hel. No, no, my Escanes; know this of me, — 
 Antjochus from incest liv'd not free; 
 For which, the most high gods not minding longer 
 To withhold the vengeance that they had in store 
 Due to^his heinous capital offence ; 
 Even in the height and pride of ail his glory, 
 When he was seated, and his daughter with him. 
 In a chariot of inestimable lalue, 
 A fire from heaven came, and shrivell'd up 
 Their bodies, even to loathing ; for they so stunk. 
 That all those eyes ador'd them, ere their fall. 
 Scorn now their hand should give them burial. 
 
 Esca. 'Tvvas very strange. 
 
 Hel. And yet but just; for though 
 
 This king >yere great, his greatriess was no guard 
 To bar lieaven's shaft, but sin had his reward, 
 
 Esca. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Enter Three Lords. 
 
 1 Lord. See, not a man in private conference, 
 Orcoimcil, has respect with him but he. [proof. 
 
 2 Lord. It shall no longer grieve without re- 
 
 3 Lord. And curs'd be he that will not second it. 
 1 Lord. P'ollovv me then : Lord Helicane, a word. 
 Hel. With me? and welcome : Happy day, ray 
 
 lords. ' [top, 
 
 1 Lord. Know, that our griefs are risen to the 
 And now at length they overflow their banks. 
 Htl. Your griefs, for what? wrong not the prince 
 
 you love. [cane ; 
 
 1 Lord. Wrong not yourself then, noble Heli- 
 But if the prince do live, let us salute him. 
 
 Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. 
 If in the world he live, we'll seek him out: 
 If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there ; 
 And be resolv'd, he lives to govern us. 
 Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral, 
 And leaves ns to our free election. 
 
 2 Lord. Whose deatli's, indeed, the strongest 
 
 in our censure : 
 And knowing tiiis kingdom, if without a head, 
 (Like goodly buildings left without a roof',) 
 Will soon to ruin fall, your noble self. 
 That best know'st how to rule, and how to reign. 
 We thus submit unto. — our sovereign. 
 
 All. Live, noble Helicane I 
 
 Hel. Try honour's cause ; forbear your suffrages: 
 If that you love prince Pericles, forbear. 
 Take I vonr \iish, 1 leap into the seas, 
 Where's hotnly trouble, for a minute's ease. 
 A twelvemonth lunger, let me then entreat you 
 To forbear choice i'the absence of your king; 
 If in which time expir'd, he not return, 
 I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. 
 But if I cannot win you to this love. 
 Go search like noblemen, like nuble subjects, 
 And in your search spend your adventurous worth ; 
 Whom if vou find, and win unto return. 
 You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. 
 
 1 Lord. To wisdom he's a fool (hat will not yield; 
 And, since lord Helicane enjoineth ns, 
 We with our travels will endeavour it. (hands; 
 
 Hel. Then you love us we you, and we'll clasp 
 When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 ScENP. V. — Pentapolis. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter SiMONiDES, reading a letter; the Knights 
 meet him. 
 1 Knigkt. Good morrow to the good Simonides. 
 Sim. Knights from my daughter this I let you 
 know. 
 
682 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act III. 
 
 That for tin's twelvemonth, she'll not undertake 
 A married life. 
 
 Her reason to herself is only known, 
 Wliich from herself by no means can I get. 
 
 2 Knight. May we not get access to her, my lord ? 
 Sim. 'Faith, by no means; she hath so strictly 
 
 tied her 
 To her chamber, that it is impossible. 
 One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; 
 This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd, , 
 And on her virgin honour will not break it. 
 
 3 Knight. Though loath to bid farewell, we take 
 
 our leaves. [Exeunt. 
 
 Sim. So, 
 They're well despatch'd ; nftw to my daughter's 
 
 letter : 
 She tells me here, she'll Aved the stranger knight, 
 Or never more to view nor day nor light. 
 Mistress, 'tis well, your choice agrees with mine; 
 I like that well : — nay, how absolute she's in't, 
 Not miudiiig whether I dislike or no! 
 Well, I commend her choice ; 
 And will no longer have it be delay'd. 
 Soft, here he comes : — I must dissemble it. 
 
 Enter Pericles. 
 
 Per. All fortune to the good Simonides ! 
 
 Si7>i. To you as much, sir ! I am beholden to you 
 For your sweet music this last night : my ears, 
 I do protest, were never better fttl 
 With such delightful pleasing harmony. 
 
 Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend ; 
 Not my desert. 
 
 Sim. Sir, you are music's master. 
 
 Per. The worst of all her soholars, my good lord. 
 
 Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do you tliiiik, 
 My daughter ■' _ [sir, of 
 
 Per. As of a most virtuous princess. 
 
 Si?n. And she is fair too, is she not? 
 
 Per. As a fair day in summer; wond'rous fair. 
 
 Sim. My daughter, sir, thinks very well of you; 
 Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master. 
 And she'll your scholar be ; therefore look to it. 
 
 Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster. 
 
 Sim. She thinks not so ; peruse this writing else. 
 
 Per. What's here ! 
 A letter, tiiat she loves the knight of Tyre? 
 'Tis the king's s\ibtilty, to have my life. [Aside.) 
 O, seek not to intrap, my gracious lord, ■ 
 A straujuer and distressed gentleman. 
 That never aim'd so high^to love your daughter, 
 But bent all olfices to honour her. [art 
 
 Sim. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou 
 A villain. 
 
 Per. By the gods, I have not, sir. 
 Never did thought of mine levy offence ; 
 Nor never did my actions yet commence 
 A deed nii«ht gain her love, or your displeasure. 
 
 Sim. Traitor, thou liest. 
 
 Per. Traitor ! 
 
 Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. 
 
 Per. Even in his throat, ('inless it be the king,) 
 That calls me traitor, I return the lie. 
 
 Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts. 
 That never relish'd of a base descent. 
 I came nnto your court, for honour's cause. 
 And not to be a rebel to her state ; 
 And he that otherwise accounts of me, 
 I'his sword shall prove he's honour's enemy. 
 
 Sim. No! — 
 Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. 
 
 Enter Th.\isa. 
 
 Per, Then, as you are as virtuous as fair. 
 Resolve your angry fathtr, if my tongue 
 Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe 
 T'o any syllable tliat made love to you? 
 
 Thai. Why sir, say if you had 
 
 Who takes offence at that wou!f make me glad >' 
 
 Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so per.inptory ? — 
 I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.) Ill tame 
 I'll bring you in subjection. — [you,- 
 
 Will you,' not having my consent, bestow 
 Your love and your afl'ections on a stranger? 
 (Who, for aught I know to the contrary. 
 Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) [Aside^j 
 Hear therefore, mistress; frame your will to mine.— 
 And yon, sir, hear you. — Either be rul'd by me. 
 Or I will make you — man and wife. 
 Nay, come ; your hands and lips must seal it too.— 
 And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ; — 
 And for a further grief, — God give you joy ! 
 What, are you both pleas'd ? 
 
 Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir. 
 
 Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. 
 
 Sim. What, are you both agreed ? 
 
 Both. Yes, please your majesty. 
 
 Sijn. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed ; 
 Tlien, with what haste you can, get you to bed. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 Enter Gowkr. 
 
 Gow. Now sleep yslaked hath the rout ; 
 No dm but snores, the house about. 
 Made loinler by the o'er-fed breast 
 Oi this most pompous marriage feast. 
 The cat, with eyne of burning coal. 
 Now couches 'fore the mouse's hole ; 
 And crickets sing at th' oven's mouth. 
 As the blither for their drouth. 
 Hyuien hath brought the bride to bed, 
 Wliere, by the loss of maidenhead, 
 A babe is moulded ; — Be attent, • 
 
 And (ime that is so briefly spent, 
 With your fine iancies quaintly eche ; 
 What's dumb in shew, 1 11 plain with speech. 
 [Dumb shew.) 
 
 Enter Pericles and Simonides at one door, tuith 
 Attendants : a Messenger meets them, kneels, 
 and (jives Pericles a letter. Pericles shctcs it 
 to Simonides ; the Lords kneel to the former. 
 Then enter 'rHAis.\ with child, and Lychokida 
 Simonides shews his daughter the letter ; sin- 
 rejoices : she and Pericles take leave of I.pt 
 Father, atid depart. Then Simonides, §fc i <r- 
 tire. 
 
 Goiv. By many a dearn and painful perch, 
 Of Pericles the careful search 
 By the four opposing coignes. 
 Which the world together joins, 
 Is m-ade with all due diligence, 
 That horse, and sail, and high expense. 
 Can stead the q'.iest. At last from 'J'yre 
 (Fame answering the most strong inquire,) 
 To the court of king Simonides 
 Are letters brought, the tenour these : 
 Antiochus and his daughter's dead ; 
 The men of Tyrus, on the head 
 Of Helicanus would set on 
 The crown of I'yre, but he will none: 
 The mutiny there he hastes t'appease; 
 Says to them, if king Pericles 
 Come not, in twice six moons, home. 
 He, obedient to their doom. 
 Will t:ike the crown, 'i'he sum of this. 
 Brought hither to Pentapolis, 
 Y'-ravished the regions round, 
 And every (uie \\itli claps, 'gan sound, 
 Our heir apparent is a king ; 
 Who dreant'd, who thought of .wch a thinq 1 
 Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre : 
 His queen with child makes her desire 
 (Wiii(h who shall cross?) along to go; 
 (Omit we all tht-ir dole and woe ;) 
 Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 PRINCE OP TYRE. 
 
 683 
 
 And so to sea. Tlieir vessel shakes 
 
 On Neptune's billow ; half the flood 
 
 Hath their keel cut; but fortune's mood 
 
 Varies again ; the grizzled north 
 
 Disgorges such a tempest forth, 
 
 'i'hat, as a duck for live that dives. 
 
 So up and down the poor ship drives. 
 
 The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near! 
 
 Doth fall in travail with her fear: 
 
 And what ensues in this fell storm, 
 
 Shall, for itself, itself perform. 
 
 I nill relate, action may 
 
 Conveniently the rest convey: 
 
 Which might not what by me is told. 
 
 In your imagination hold 
 
 This stage, the ship, upon whose deck 
 
 The sea-tost prince appears to speak. [Exit. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Enter Pericles, on a ship at sea. 
 
 Per. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these 
 
 surges, [hast 
 
 Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that 
 
 Upon the winds command, bind them in brass. 
 
 Having call'd them from the deep! O, still thy 
 
 deafning, 
 Thy dreadful thunders; gently quench thy nimble. 
 Sulphureous flashes I — O how, Lyrhorida, 
 How does my queen ? — Thou storm, thou, veno- 
 mously 
 Wilt thou spit all thyself? — The seaman's whistle 
 Is as a whisper iu-the ears of death, 
 Unheard. — Lychorida .' — Lucina, O 
 Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle 
 To those that cry by night, convey thy deity 
 Aboard our dancing boat; make swilt the pangs 
 Of my queen's travails! — Now, Lychorida — 
 
 Enter Lychorida, with an infant. 
 
 Lye. Here is a thing 
 Too young for such a place, who, if it had 
 Conceit, would die as I am like to do. 
 Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. 
 Per. How ! how, Lychorida, 
 hyc. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm. 
 Here's all tJiat is left Using of your queen, — 
 A little daughter; fur the sake of it, 
 De manly, and take comfort. 
 
 Per. O yon gods ! 
 
 Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, 
 And snatch them straight away ? We, liere below. 
 Recall not what we give, and therein may 
 Vie honour with yourselves. 
 
 L>jc. Patience, good sir, 
 
 Even for this charge. 
 
 . Per. Now, mild may be thy life ! 
 
 For a more blust'rous birth had never babe : 
 Quiet and gentle thy conditions I 
 For thou'rt the rudeliest welcom'd to this world. 
 That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows I 
 Thou hast as chiding a nativity. 
 As fire, air, water, earth and heaven can make, 
 To herald thee from ths womb : even at the first. 
 Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit. 
 With all thou canst find here. — Now the good gods 
 Throw their best eyes upon it! 
 
 Enter two Sailors. 
 
 ] Sail. What courage, sir? God save you. 
 
 Per. Courage enough : I do not fear the flaw ; 
 It hatii done to me the worst. Y'et, for the love 
 Of this poor infant, this fresli-new sea-farer, 
 I would, it would be quiet. 
 
 1 Sail. Slick the bolins there; thou wilt not, wilt 
 thou '. lijovv, and split thyself. 
 
 2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy 
 billow kiss the moon, I care not. 
 
 1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the sea 
 works high, the wind is loud, and will nut lie till the 
 ship be cleared of the dead. 
 
 Per. That's your superstition. 
 
 1 Sail. Pardon us, sir; with ns at sea it still 
 hath been observed; and we are strong in earnest. 
 Therefore briefly yield her ; for she must overboard 
 straight. [queen ! 
 
 Per. Be it as you think meet — Most wretched 
 
 Lye. Here she lies, sir. 
 
 Per. A terrible child- bed hast thou had, my dear; 
 No light, no fire : the unfriendly elements 
 Forgot thee utterly ; nor have 1 time 
 To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight 
 Must cast thee, scarcely cofiin'd, in the ooie ; 
 Where, for a monument upon thy bones. 
 And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale, 
 And htniiming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse. 
 Lying with simple shells. Lychorida, 
 Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, 
 My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander 
 Bring me the satin coffer : lay the babe 
 Upon the i)illow; hie thee, whiles I .say 
 A priestly farewell to her : suddenly, woman. 
 
 [Exit Lychorida. 
 
 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, 
 caulk'd and bitumed ready. 
 
 Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this? 
 
 2 Sail. We are near 'Jharsus. 
 
 Per. Thither, gentle mariner. 
 Alter thy course for Tyre. When can'st thou reach it ? 
 
 2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. 
 
 Per. O make for Tharsus. 
 There will I visit Cleon, for the babe 
 Cannot hold out to Tyrus : there I'll leave it 
 At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner; 
 I'll bring the body presently. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House. 
 Enter Cerimon, a Servant, and some persons who 
 have been shipwrecked, 
 Cer. Philemon, ho! 
 
 Enter Phileaiod. 
 Phil. Doth my lord call? 
 Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men: 
 It hath been a turbulent and stormy night. 
 
 Serv. I have been in many : but such a night as 
 Till noiv, I ne'er endar'd. [this, 
 
 Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return ; 
 There's nothing can be minister'd to nature, 
 That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary. 
 And tell me how it works. (To Philemon.) 
 
 [Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those tvho 
 had been sliipwrecked. 
 
 Enter two Gentlemeti. 
 
 1 Gent. Good morrow, sir. 
 
 2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. 
 
 Cer. Gentlemen, 
 
 Why do you stir so early ? 
 
 I Gent. Sir, 
 Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea. 
 Shook as the earth did quake ; 
 The very principals did seem to rend. 
 And all to topple ; pure surprise and fear 
 Made me to quit the house. [early ; 
 
 3 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so 
 'Tis not our husbandry. 
 
 Cer. O, yon say well. 
 
 1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship, 
 having 
 Rich tire about you, should at these early hours 
 Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 
 It is most strange, 
 
 Nature should be so conversant with pain, ; 
 
 Being thereto not compell'd. ( 
 
 Csr. I held it ever \ 
 
 Virtue and cunning were endowments greater } 
 
 Than nobleness and riches : careless hens \ 
 
 iMay the two latt-r d^irken and expend ; 
 But iminoi tality attends the Ibrmer, 
 ALiking a man a god. 'Tis known, I e\er 
 
684 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act hi. 
 
 Have studied physic, through which secret art, 
 {iy turning o'er authorities, I have 
 (Togetlier with my practice,) made familiar 
 To me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
 That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; 
 And I can apeak of the disturbances 
 That natnre works, and of her cures; which gives me 
 A more content in course of true deli°ht 
 Than to be thirsty after tottering honour. 
 Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, 
 To please the fool and death. [forth 
 
 2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd 
 Your charity, and hundreds call themselves 
 Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd : 
 And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even 
 Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon 
 Such strong renown as time shall never — 
 
 Enter two Servants, with a chest. 
 
 Serv. So ; lift there. 
 
 Cer. What is that? 
 
 Serv. Sir, even now 
 
 Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 
 'Tis of some wreck. 
 
 Cer. Set it down, let's look on it. 
 
 2 Gejit. 'Tis like a coffin, sir. 
 
 Cer. VVhate'er it be, 
 
 Tis woudrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; 
 If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold. 
 It is a good constraint of fortune, that 
 It belches upon us. 
 
 2 Genl. 'Tis so, my lord. 
 
 Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd I — 
 Did the sea cast it up i 
 
 Serv. I never saw so huge a billow, sir, 
 As toss'd it upon shore. 
 
 Cer. Come, wrench it open ; 
 
 Soft, soft! — it smells most sweetly in my sense. 
 
 2 Gent. A delicate odour. 
 
 Cer. As ever hit my nostril; so, — up with it. 
 O you most potent gods ! What's here ? a corse ! 
 
 1 Ge7it. Most strange ! [treasur'd 
 Cer. Shrouded in ctoth of state ; balm'd and en- 
 
 With bans of spices full! A passport too! 
 Apollo, perfect me i'the characters ! 
 
 ( Unfolds a scroll.) 
 ' Here I give to understand, [Reads.) 
 
 {If e'er this coffin drive a land,) 
 
 1, king Pericles, have lost 
 
 This queen, ivorth all our mundane cost 
 
 W/wJinds her, t/ive her burying. 
 
 She teas the daughter of a king : 
 
 Besides this treasure for a fee, 
 
 The gods requite his charity ! 
 If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart, 
 I'hat even cracks for woe ! — This chanc'd to-night. 
 
 2 Gent. Most likely, sir. 
 
 Cer. Nay, certainly to-night ; 
 
 For lix)k, how fresh she looks ! — They were too 
 
 rough. 
 That threw her in the sea. Make fire within ; 
 Fetcli hither all the boxes in my closet. 
 Death may usurp on nature many hours, 
 And yet the fire of life kindle again 
 The overpressed spirits. I have heard 
 Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead, 
 By good appliance was re<x)vered. 
 Enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire. 
 Well said, well said : the tire and the cloths. — 
 The rough and wofid music that we have, 
 Cause it to soiuid, 'beseech you. [block ! 
 
 The vial once more;— How thou stirr'st, thou 
 The music there. — I pray you, give her air : — 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 This queen will live : nature awakes ; a warmth 
 Breatlies our of her • she hath not been cntranc'd 
 Above live hours. See, how she 'gius to blow 
 Into life's flower again ! 
 
 1 Gent. The heavens, sir, 
 
 Through yon, increase our wonder, and set up 
 
 Your fame for ever. 
 
 Cer. She is alive ; behofd, 
 
 Hereye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
 Which Pericles hath lost, 
 Begin to part their fringes of bright gold ; 
 The diamonds of a most praised water 
 Ap|jear, to make the world twice rich. O live. 
 And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature 
 Rare as you seem to be ! (She moves.) 
 
 Thai. O dear Diana, 
 
 Where am I ? Where's my lord ? What world is 
 
 2 Gent. Is not this strange V [this? 
 
 1 Gent. Most rare. 
 
 Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours; 
 
 Lend me your hands ; to the next chamber bear her. 
 Get linen ; now this matter must be look'd to, 
 For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come ; 
 And ./^isculapius guide us ! 
 
 [Exeunt, carrying Thaisa away. 
 
 Scene IIL — Tharsus. A room in aeon's House. 
 
 Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychorida, 
 and Marina. 
 Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone, 
 My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands 
 In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, 
 'I'ake from my heart all thankfulness ! The gods 
 Make up the rest ujjon you ! 
 
 Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt yoa 
 mortally. 
 Yet glance full wand'ringly on us. 
 
 Diem. O -your sweet queen ! 
 
 That tiie strict fates had pleas'd you had brought 
 
 her hither, 
 To have bless'd mine eyes I 
 
 Per. We cannot but obey 
 
 The powers above us. Could I rage and roar 
 As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end 
 Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina ( whom, 
 For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so, ) here 
 I charge your charity withal, and leave her 
 The infant of your care ; beseeching you 
 To give her princely training, that she may be 
 Manner'd as she is born. 
 
 Cle. Fear not, my lord : 
 
 Your grace, that fed my country vvith your corn, 
 (For which the jk ople's prayers still fall upcui you), 
 Must in your chdd be thought on. If neglection 
 Should therein make me \ile, the common body. 
 By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty : 
 But if to that my nature need a spur. 
 The gods revenge it upon me and mine. 
 To the end of generation! 
 
 Per. I believe you ; 
 
 Your honour and your goodness teach me credit, 
 Without your vows. Till she be married, madam. 
 By bright Diiina, whom we honour all, 
 Uuscissor'd stiall this hair of mine remain. 
 Though I shew will in't. So I take my leave. 
 GxJod madam, make me blessed in your care 
 In bringing up my child. 
 
 Dion. I have one myself. 
 
 Who shall not be more dear to my respect. 
 Than yours, my lord. 
 
 Per. Madam, my thanks and prayers. 
 
 Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge 
 o'tlie shore ; 
 Then give you up to the mask'd Iseptune, and 
 The gentlest winds of heaven. 
 
 Per. I will embrace 
 
 Your offer. Come, dear'st madam.— O, no tears, 
 Lychorida, no tears : 
 
 Look to your little mistress, on whose grace 
 \'ou may depend hereafter. Come, aiy lord.^ 
 
 I Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Ephesus. A Room in Cenmons 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Cerimon and Thaisa. 
 Cer. Madam, this letter, aud some certain .juwels, 
 
Act IV. Scene 1. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 685 
 
 Lay with you in yonr coffer : which are now 
 At your cnniniand. Know yon the charucter? 
 
 Thai. It is my lord's. 
 Tiiat I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, 
 Even on my yearning time ; but whether there 
 Delivered or no, by the holy gods. 
 I cannot rightly say: But since kin" Pericles, 
 My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, 
 A vestal livery will I take nie to. 
 And never more have joy. 
 
 Cer. Madam, if this yon purpose as you speak, 
 Diana's teuiple is not distant Car, 
 Where you may 'bide until your date expire. 
 Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine 
 Shall there atlend you. 
 
 Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all ; 
 Yet my good will is great, tiiough tlic gift small. 
 
 [Exeimt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Enter GovvER. 
 
 Goiver. Imagine Pericles at Tyre, 
 Welcom'd to his own desire. 
 His woful queen leave at Ephess, 
 'i'o Dian there a votaress. 
 Now to Marina bend your mind, 
 Whom our fast growing scene must find 
 At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd 
 In music, letters ; who hath gaiu'd 
 Of education all the grace, 
 Which makes her both the heart and place 
 Of general wonder. But alack! 
 That monster envy, of the wrack 
 Of earned praise, Marina's life 
 Seeks to take off by treason's knife. 
 And in this kind hath our Cleon 
 One daughter, and a wench full grown, 
 Even ripe for marriage tiglit; this maid 
 Hight Philoten : and it is said 
 For certain in our atory, she 
 Would ever with Marina be ; 
 Bet when she weav'd the sleided silk 
 \V'itli fingers long, small, white as milk ; 
 Or when she would with sihtrp neeld wound 
 'J'he cambric, which she made more sound 
 By hurting it ; or when to the lute 
 Sue siiu'S, and made the night-bird mute, 
 'i'hat stdl ncortls with moan; or when 
 She would with rich and constant pen 
 Vail to her mistress Dian ; still 
 'I'his Philoten contends in skill 
 With absolute M-arina : so 
 With the dove of Paplios might the crow 
 Vie feathers white. Marina gets 
 All praises, which are paid as debts, 
 And not as given. This so darks 
 In Pliiioten all graceful marks, 
 That Cleim's wile, with envy rare, 
 A present murderer does prepare 
 For good Marina, that her daughter 
 Miglit stand peerless by this slaughter. 
 The sooner. her vile thoughts to stead, 
 Lychorida, our ni;rse, is dead; 
 And cursed Dionyza hafh 
 The pregnant instrument of wrath 
 Prest for this blow. The unborn event 
 I do commend to yoitr content: 
 Only I carry winged time 
 Post on the lame feet of my rhyme ; 
 Which never could I so convey, 
 Unless your thoughts went on my way. — 
 Dionyza does appear. 
 With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. 
 
 Scene I. — Tharsus. An open Place, near the 
 Sea-shore. 
 Enter Dionyza mid Leonine. 
 Dio7i, Thy oath remember ; thou hast sworn to 
 do it: 
 1'is but a blow wliich never shall be known. 
 
 Thou canst not do a thing i'the world so soon. 
 To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, 
 Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom, 
 Inflame too nicely ; nor let pity, which 
 Even women have cast oft", melt thee, but be 
 A soldier to thy purpose. 
 
 Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature. 
 
 Vian, 'J'he fitter then the gods should have her. 
 Here 
 Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. 
 TliDU art resolv'd ;* 
 
 Leon. I am resolv'd. 
 
 Enter Marina, ivith a basket oj flowers. 
 
 Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed, 
 To strew thy green with flowers ; the yellows, blues, 
 The p'urple violets, and marigolds. 
 Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave. 
 While summer days do last. Ah me ! poor maid. 
 Born in a tempest, when my mother died, 
 'i'his world to me is like a lasting storm. 
 Whining me from my friends. 
 
 Dion. How now, Marina ! why do you keep alone ? 
 How chance my daughter is not with you ? Do not 
 Consume your blood with .sorrowing : you have 
 A nurse ol' me. Lord ! how your favour's chang'd 
 With this unprofitable woe! Come, come ; 
 Give me your wreatli of flowers, ere the sea mar it 
 VValk fortli with Leonine ; the air is quick there, 
 Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come ; — 
 Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 
 
 Mar. No, I pray you ; 
 I'll not bereave you of your servant. 
 
 Dion. Come, come ; 
 
 I love the king your father, and yourself. 
 With more than foreign heart. We every day 
 Expect him here : when he shall come and find 
 Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted, 
 He will repent iue breadth of his great voyage; 
 Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en 
 No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you. 
 Walk, and be cheerful once again ; reserve 
 That excellent complexion, which did ste^d 
 The eyes of young and old. Care not for me ; 
 I can go home alone. 
 
 Mar. Well, I will go; 
 
 But yet I have no desire to it. 
 
 Dion. Come, come , I know 'tis good for you. 
 Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least; 
 Remember what I have said. 
 
 Leon. J warrant you, madam. 
 
 Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while , 
 Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood ; 
 What ! I must have a care of you. 
 
 Mar. Thanks, sweet madau). — 
 
 [Exit Dionyza. 
 Is this wind westerly that blows ? 
 
 Leon. South-west, 
 
 Mar. When I was born, the wind was north. 
 
 Leon. VVas't so ? 
 
 Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear. 
 But cry'd, good seamen ! to the sailors, galling 
 His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes; 
 And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea 
 'I hat almost burst the deck, and from the ladder- 
 tackle 
 Wash'd oft" a canvass-cliniber : Ha! says one, 
 IVi/t out f and, with a dropping industry. 
 They skip from stem to stern : the boatswain 
 
 whistles. 
 The master calls, and trebles their confu.sion. 
 
 Leon. And when was this V 
 
 Mar. It was, when I was born • 
 
 Never was waves nor wind more violent. 
 
 Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily. 
 
 Mar. _ What mean you ? 
 
 Leon. If you require a little space for prayer 
 I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious. 
 For the gods are quick of ear, and 1 am sworn 
 To di) my work with haste. 
 
686 
 
 PERICLES. 
 
 Act 17. 
 
 Wiar. Why will you kill me ? 
 
 Leon. To satisfy my lady. • 
 
 Mar. Why would she lia\e me kill'd? 
 Now, as 1 can reineniher, by my troth, 
 I never did lier hurt in all my lite ; 
 I never spake bad word, nor did ill tnrn 
 To any living creature : believe me, la, 
 I never killd a monse, nor hurt a fly : 
 I trod npon a worm against my will, 
 But I wept for it. How have I ollended. 
 Wherein my death might yield her profit, or 
 JNly life imply her danger? 
 
 Leon. My commission 
 
 Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. 
 
 Mar. You will not dot (or all the world, I hope. 
 You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshew 
 Vou have a gentle heart. 1 saw you lately. 
 When you caught hurt iu parting two that fought: 
 Good sooth, it shewd well in you; do so now: 
 Your lady seeks my life ; come you between. 
 And save poor me, the weaker. 
 
 Leon. I am sworn, 
 
 And will despatch. 
 
 Enter Pircdes, tvh'dst Marina is striigfjUng. 
 
 1 Pirate. Hold, villain ! [Leonine runs away.) 
 
 2 Pirate. A prize ! a prize ! 
 
 3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Corae, let's 
 have her aboard suddenly. 
 
 [Exeunt Pirates loith Marina. 
 
 Scene IT. — The same. 
 He-enter Leonine. 
 
 Leon. Tliese roving thieves serve the great pi- 
 rate Valdes ; 
 And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go : 
 There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead, 
 And thrown into the sea. — But III see further; 
 Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, 
 Not carry her abroad. If she remain, 
 Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain. 
 
 [E.xit. 
 
 Scene III. — Mytilene. A Boom in a Brothel. 
 
 Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. 
 
 Pand. Boult. 
 
 Boult. Sir. 
 
 Pand. Search the market narrowly ; Mytilene is 
 full of gallants. We lost too much money this 
 mart, by being too wenchless. 
 
 Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. 
 We have but poor three, and they can do no more 
 than they can do; and with continual action are 
 even as good as rotten. 
 
 Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er 
 we pay lor them. If there be not a conscience to 
 be us'd in every trade, we shall never prosper. 
 
 Bawd. Thou say'st true : 'tis not the bruiging up 
 of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up 
 »ome eleven — 
 
 Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down 
 again. But shall I search the market ? 
 
 Bawd. What else, man ? The stuff we have, a 
 strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti- 
 fully sodden. 
 
 Pand. 'I'hou say'st true ; they are too unwhole- 
 some, o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, 
 that lay with the little baggage. 
 
 Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him ; she made 
 him roast-meat for worms : — but I'll go search the 
 market. ^ [Exit. 
 
 Pand. Three or four thousands chequins were as 
 pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. 
 
 Baivd. VVIiy, to give over, I pray you "/ is it a 
 shame to get s\ hen we are old ? 
 
 Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the com- 
 modity ; nor the commodity wages not with the 
 danger; therefore, if in our youths we could pick 
 np some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our 
 door hatcb'd. Besides, the sore terms we stand 
 
 upon with the gods, will be strong with ns for giv- 
 ing over. 
 
 Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. 
 
 Pand. As well as we? ay, and better too; we 
 o^end worse. Neither is our profession any trade; 
 — it's no calling : — but here comes Boult. 
 
 Enter the Pirates and Boult, drac/ying in 
 Marina. 
 
 Boult. Come your ways. ( To Marina.) — My 
 masters, you say she's a virgin? 
 
 1 Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it net. 
 
 Boult. Master, I have gone thorough for this 
 piece, you see : if you like her, so; if not, I have 
 lost my earnest. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities ? 
 
 Buult. Siie has a good lace, speaks well, and has 
 excellent good clothes ; there's no further necessity 
 of qualities c;in make her be refused. 
 
 Bawd. What's her price, Boult? [pieces. 
 
 Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand 
 
 Pand. Well, follow me, my masters; you shall 
 have your money presently. Wife, take her iu ; 
 instruct her what she has to do, that she may not 
 be raw in her entertainment. 
 
 [Exeunt Pander and Pirates. 
 
 Baivd. Boult, take you the marks of her ; tiie 
 colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with 
 warrant of her virginity ; and cry. He that will give 
 most, shall have her first. Such a maideniiead were 
 no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. 
 Get this done as I command you. 
 
 Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit. 
 
 Mar, Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow I 
 (He should have struck, not spoke ; ) or that these 
 
 pirates, 
 (Not enough barbarous,) had not overboard 
 Thrown me to seek my mother ! 
 
 Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one? 
 
 Mar. That I am jiretty. [you. 
 
 Bawd. Come, the gods have done tlieir part ia 
 
 Mar. I accuse them not. 
 
 Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are 
 like to Vne. 
 
 Mar. The more my fault 
 To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. 
 
 Bawd. Ay, and you shall live iu pleasure. 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Baivd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentle- 
 men of all fashions. You shall fare well; you shall 
 have the difference of all complexions. VVhat! do 
 you stop your ears i 
 
 Mar. Are you a woman ? 
 
 Bawd. VVhat would you have me be, an I be not 
 a woman ? 
 
 Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. 
 
 Bawd. Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think 1 shall 
 have something to do with you. Come you are a 
 young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I 
 woidd have you. 
 
 Mar. The gods defend me I 
 
 Bawd. If it please the gods to (defend you by 
 men, tlien men mu.st comfort you, men must feed 
 you, men must stir you up. — Boult's returned. 
 
 Enter Boult. 
 Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market ? 
 
 Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of 
 her hairs ; I have drawn her picture with my voice 
 
 Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou 
 find the inclination of the people, especially of the 
 yoimger sort? 
 
 Boult. "Faith, they listened to me, as they would 
 have hearkened to their father's testament. There 
 was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went 
 to bed to her very description. 
 
 Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with 
 his best ruli' on. 
 
 Boult. To-night, to-night But, mi.sf ress, do yoa 
 know the French knitjht that cower i'the hams? 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 687 
 
 E' 
 
 Bmvd. Who? monsieur Vcroles? 
 
 Bouti, Ay ; he otiered to cut a caper at the pro- 
 clnmalion; but he made a groan at it, and swore he 
 would see lier to-morrow. 
 
 Band, Well, well; as for him, he brought his 
 disease hither: here he does but repair it. 1 know, 
 he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns 
 in the sun. 
 
 Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a tra- 
 veller, we should lodge them with this sign. 
 
 Baud. Pray you, come hither awiiile. Yon have 
 fortunes coming upon you. Mark nie ; you must 
 seem to do that tearfully, which you commit wil- 
 lingly ; (o despise profit, where you have most gain. 
 To wetp that you live as you do, makes pity in your 
 lovers. Seldom, but that pity begets you a good 
 opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. 
 
 Mar. I understand you not. 
 
 Boult. O, fake her home, mistress, take her 
 home : these blushes of hers must be quenched 
 with some present practice. 
 
 Bated. 'Ihousay'st true, i'faith, so they must: 
 for your bride goes to that with shame, which is 
 her way to go with warrant. 
 
 Boiili, 'Faith, Some do, and some do not. But, 
 inistre.-s, if I have bargain'd for the joint, — 
 
 Bated. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit. 
 
 Boult. I may so. 
 
 Baud. Who should deny it ? Come, young one, 
 I like the manner of your garments well. (yet. 
 
 Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed 
 
 Bailed, iJoult, spend thou that in the town: re- 
 Ort wt.at a sojourner we have ; you'll lose nothing 
 y custom. \Vhen nature framed this piece, she 
 meant thee a good turn: therefore say what a para- 
 gon she is, and thou bast the harvest out of thine 
 own report. 
 
 Boult, J warrant yon, mistress, thunder shall not 
 so awake the beds of eels, as my giving out her 
 beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home 
 some to-night. 
 
 Baud. Come your ways ; follow me. 
 
 Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep. 
 Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. 
 Diana, aid my purpose ! 
 
 Bau d. What have we to do with Diana ? Pray 
 you, w.U you go with us ? [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Tharsus. A Room in Clean's House, 
 Enter Cleon and Dionyza. 
 
 Dion, Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? 
 
 CVp. O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter. 
 The snn and moon ne'er look'd upon ! 
 
 Dion. I think 
 
 You'll turn a child again. 
 
 Cle. Were 1 chief lord of all the spacious world, 
 I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady. 
 Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess 
 To equal any single crown o'the earth, 
 I'the justice of compare ! O villain Leoniue, 
 Whom thou bast poison'd too ! • 
 
 If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kindness 
 Becoming well thy feat : what canst thou say. 
 When nuble Pericles shall demand his child? 
 
 Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, 
 To foster it, nor ever to preserve. 
 She died by night; I'll say so. Who can cross it? 
 Unless you play the impious innocent. 
 And for an honest attribute, cry out, 
 She died by foul play. 
 
 Cle. O, goto. Well, well, 
 
 01 all the faults beneath the heavens, tlie gods 
 Do like this worst. 
 
 Dion. Be one of those, that think 
 
 The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence. 
 And open this to Pericles, i do siiame 
 To think of what a noble strain you are. 
 And of how cow'd a spirit. 
 
 Cle. To such proceeding 
 
 Who ever but his approbation added, 
 
 Though not his pre-consenf, he did not flow 
 From honourable courses. 
 
 Dion. Be it so then : 
 
 Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead 
 Nor none can know, Leonme being gone. 
 She did disdain my child, and stood between 
 Her and her fortunes : None would look on her. 
 But cast their gazes on Marina's face; 
 Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin, 
 Not worth the time of day. it pierced nie tlioroug.h • 
 And though you call niy course unnatural, 
 You not your child well loving, yet I find. 
 It greets me, as an enterprise of kindness, 
 Perfonn'd to your sole daughter. 
 
 C'/e. * Heavens forgive h ! 
 
 Dion. And as for Pericles, 
 What should he say ? We wept after her hearse. 
 And even yet we mourn : her monument 
 Is almost fiuish'd, and her epitaphs 
 In glittering golden characters express 
 A general praise to her, and care in us 
 At whose expense 'tis done. 
 
 C{e. Thou art like the harpy. 
 
 Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face, 
 Seize with an eagle's talons. 
 
 Dion, You are like one, that superstitionsly 
 Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flics ; 
 But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Gower, before the monument of Marina 
 at Tharsus. 
 
 Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues 
 make short; 
 Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't ; 
 Making, (to take your imagination,) 
 From bourn to bourn, region to region. 
 By you being pardon'd, we commit no ciime 
 To use one language, in each several clime. 
 Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you. 
 To learn of me, who stand i'the gaps to teach you 
 The stages of our story. Pericles 
 Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, 
 (Attended on by many a lord and knight,) 
 To see his daughter, all his life's delight. 
 Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 
 Advanc'd in time to great and high estate, 
 Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind. 
 Old Helicanus goes along behind. [brouglit 
 
 Well-sailing ships, and boimteous winds, have 
 This king to Tharsus, (think his pilot thougiit ; 
 So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,) 
 To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. 
 Like motes and shadows see them move awhile ; 
 Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. 
 {Dumb shew.) 
 
 Enter at one door, Pericles with his Train; 
 Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shews 
 Pericles the tomb of Marina; tvhereatl^ lricles 
 makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a 
 miyhty passion departs. Then Cleon and 
 Dionyza retire. 
 
 Goto. See how belief may suffer by foul shew! ' 
 This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe ; 
 And Pericles, in sorrow ail devour'd. 
 With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'ef 
 
 shower'd, 
 Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears 
 Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs ; 
 He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. Me bears 
 A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, 
 And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit 
 The epitaph is for Marina writ 
 By wicked Dionyza. 
 
 (Reads the inscription on Marina's monument.) 
 The fairest, siveet'st, and best, lies here, 
 Who tvither'd in her spring of year. 
 She tvas of Tyrtis, the king's daughter, 
 On ivhomfoul death fiath made this slaughter I 
 Marina tvas she call'd; and at her birth. 
 
688 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Thetis, beinrj proud, swallow'd some part o'thn 
 
 earth : 
 Therefore l/ie earth fearing to be o'erjiow'd, 
 Hath Thetis' birth child on the heavens bestow'd: 
 Wherefore she does, ( and swears she'll never 
 
 stint,) 
 Make rayimj battery upon shores of flint. 
 No visor (lues become black \illany, 
 So well as soft and tender flattery. 
 J<et Pericles believe his daughter's dead. 
 And bear his ctmrses to be ordered 
 By lady fortune ; while our scenes display 
 His daughter's woe, and heavy well-a-day, 
 In her uniioly service. Patience then, 
 And think you now are all in Mitylen. [ Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — Mitylene. A Street before the Brothel. 
 Enter, from the Brothel, two Gentlemen. 
 
 1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like ;' 
 
 2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as 
 this, she being once gone. 
 
 1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there ! did 
 yo;i ever dream of such a thing'? 
 
 2 Ge7it. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy- 
 ho'ises: Shall we go hear the ve.stais sing? 
 
 1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but 
 T am out of the road of rutting, for ever. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — The same. A Room in the Brothel. 
 
 Enter Pander, Bawd, and BouLT. 
 
 Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth 
 of her, she had ne'er come here. 
 
 Bawd. Fy, fy upon her ; she is able to freeze the 
 god Priapns, and undo a whole generation. VVe 
 must either get her ravished, or be rid of her. 
 When she should do for clients lier fitment, and do 
 me the kindness of our profession, she has me her 
 quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, 
 her knees ; that she would make a puritan of the 
 devil, if he should ciieapen a ki.ss of her. 
 
 Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll dis- 
 furnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our 
 swearers (iriests. [me ! 
 
 Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for 
 
 Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but 
 by the way to the pux. Here comes the lord Lysi- , 
 machus, disguised. i 
 
 Boult. VVe should have both lord and lown, if the 
 peevish baggage would but give way ,to customers. 
 
 Enter Lysimachus. 
 
 Lys. How now? How a dozen of virginities ? 
 
 Bawd. Now, thegods to bless your honour! 
 
 Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good health. 
 
 hys. You may so; 'tis the better for you that 
 your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, 
 wholesome iniquity ? Have you that a man may deal 
 withal, and defy the surgeon? 
 
 Bawd, We have here one, sir, if she would — but 
 there never came her like in Mitylene. 
 
 Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou 
 wonld'st say. [enough. 
 
 Bawd. Vour honour knows what 'tis to say, well 
 
 Lys. Weil ; call forth, call forth. 
 
 Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, 
 you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, 
 if she had but — 
 
 Lys. What, pr'ythee ? 
 
 Boult. O, sir, I can be modest. 
 
 Lys. That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less 
 than it gives a good report to a number to be chaste. 
 
 Enter Marina. 
 
 Baivd. Here comes that which grows to the 
 stalk ; — never plucked yet, I can assure you. Is 
 khe not a fair creature ? 
 
 Lys. 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage 
 at .>sea. Wei!, tliere's for you ; — leave us. 
 
 Bawd. 1 beseech your honour, give mp leave: a 
 wor^d, and I'll have done presently. 
 
 Lys. I beseech you, do. 
 
 Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is aa 
 honourable man. (To Mar. whom she takes aside.') 
 
 Mar. I desire to find him so, that I may wortiiily 
 note him. 
 
 Bawd. Next, he's the governor of this country, 
 and a man whom I am bound to. 
 
 Mar. If he govern this country, you are bound 
 to him indeed ; but how honourable he is in tliat, I 
 know not. 
 
 Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virginal 
 fencing, will you use him kindly 'i* tie will line your 
 apron with gold. 
 
 Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank- 
 fully receive. 
 
 Lys. Have you done ? 
 
 Bawd. My lord, she's not paced yet; you must 
 take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, 
 we will leave his honour and her together. 
 
 [Exeunt Bawd, Pander, and Boult. 
 
 Lys. Go thy ways. — Now, pretty one, how long 
 have you been at this trade ? 
 
 Mar. What trade, sir? 
 
 Lys. What I cannot name but I shall offend. 
 
 Mar. I cannot be offended with Iny trade. Please 
 you to name it. 
 
 Lys. How long have you been of this profession' 
 
 Mar. Ever since I can remember. 
 
 Lys. Did you go to it so young ? Were you a 
 gamester at five, or at seven ? 
 
 Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. 
 
 Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims you 
 to be a creature of sale. 
 
 Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of such 
 resort, and will come into it? I hear say, you are of 
 honourable parts, and are the governor of this place. 
 
 Lys. Why, hath your principal made known uuto 
 you who I am? 
 
 Mar. Who is my principal ? 
 
 Lys. Why, your herb-woman ; she that sets seeds 
 and roots of shame and iniqnity. O, you have heard 
 something of my jjower, and so stand aloof for more 
 serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, 
 my authority shall net see tliee, or else, look friendly 
 upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place. 
 Come, come. 
 
 Mar. If you were born to honour, shew it now; 
 If put upon you, make the judgment good 
 That thought you worthy of it. 
 
 Lys. How's this? how's this? — Some more; — 
 be sage. 
 
 Alar, For me. 
 That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune 
 Has plac'd me here within this loathsome stye. 
 Where, since I came, di.seases have been sold 
 Dearer than physic, — O that the good gods 
 Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, 
 Though they did change me to the meanest bird 
 
 e purer air! 
 
 That Hies i' th 
 
 Lys. I did not think 
 
 Thoi0could'st have spoke so well ; ne'er dream'd 
 
 thou coiild'st. , 
 
 Had I brought hither a cornipted mind. 
 Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold forth^e: 
 Persever still in that clear way thou goest, 
 And the gods strengthen thee ! 
 
 Mar. The gods preserve you ! 
 
 Lys. For me, be you thoughten 
 
 That I came with no ill intent ; for to me 
 The very doors and windows savour vilely. 
 Farewell. Thou art a peace of virtue, and 
 I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. — 
 Hold ; here's more gold for tiiee. — 
 A curse upon him, die he like a thief, ['"^> 
 
 That robs thee of thy goodness I If tiiou hear'st from 
 It shall be for thy good. 
 
 {As Lysimachus is putting Kf ^ purat, 
 Boult enters.) 
 Boult. I beseech your Ijouour, one piece for me. 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 085) 
 
 Lys. Avaiint, thou damned door-keeper! Your 
 ho'ise, 
 But for this virgin that doth prop it up, 
 Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Boult. How's this? We must t;ii<e another course 
 with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not 
 worth a breakl'ast in the cheapest coiititry under tlie. 
 cope, shall undo a whole household, let me be geld- 
 ed like a sjianiel. Come your ways. 
 
 Mar. VVhither would you have me? 
 
 Boult. 1 must have your maidenhead taken off, 
 or the common hangman .shall execute it. Come 
 your way. We'll have no more gentlemen driven 
 away. Come your ways, I say. 
 
 Re-enter Bawd. 
 
 Bawd. How now ! What's the matter? 
 
 ^Bonlt. Worse and worse, mistress ; she has here 
 spoken holy words to the lord Lysimachus. 
 
 liffivd. O abominable ! 
 
 Bovlt. She makes our profession as it were io 
 stink, afiire the face of the gods. 
 
 Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever ! 
 
 Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her 
 like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a 
 snow-bnll ; saying his prayers too. 
 
 Bawd. Boult, take her away ; use her at thy 
 plrasiire: crack the glass of her virginity, and make 
 the rest malleable. 
 
 Boidt. An if she were a thornier piece of ground 
 than she is, she shall be ploughed. 
 
 Mar. Hark, hark, you gods! 
 
 Bated. Siie conjures : away with her. Would 
 she had never come within my doors! Ularry hang 
 you ! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the 
 way of women-kind ? Marry come up, my dish of 
 cliristity with rosemary and bays! [Exit. 
 
 Botill. Come, mistress : come your way with me. 
 
 Mar. Whither would you have me ? [dear. 
 
 Bcidt. To take from you the jewel you hold so 
 
 ^lar. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first. 
 
 Uunlt. Come now, your one tiling. 
 
 •Slar. What canst tliou wish tlime enemy to be? 
 
 Uoidt. Why, I could wish him to be my master, 
 or ratlier my mistress. 
 
 Mar. Neitlier of these are yet so bad as thou art. 
 Since th(-v do better thee in their command. 
 TliiMi hold'st a place, fur wliich the painedst fiend 
 or hell would nut in reputa'tion change : 
 'I'lu/u'rt the dunui'd door keeper to every coystrel 
 'I'hat hither comes enquiring for his tib ; 
 To (he choleric fisting of each rogue thy car 
 [s li.ihle ; thy very Inod is such 
 As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. 
 
 Boidt. What wo(dd you have me ? go to the wars, 
 would you ? where a man may serve seven years 
 Jor the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in 
 the end to buy him a wooden one ? 
 
 Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty 
 Old receptacles, common sewers, of filth; 
 Ser\e by indenture to the common hangman; 
 Any of these ways are better yet than this: 
 For that which thou professest, a baboon. 
 Could be b.it speak, wo aid own a name too dear. 
 
 that the gods would safely from this place 
 Dtliver me ! Here, here is gold fir thee. 
 
 It' that thy m.ister would gain aught by me, 
 I'roclaim that 1 can sing, weave, sew, and dance. 
 With other virtues, which I'll kee-p from boast; 
 And I will undertake all tiiese to teach. 
 
 1 doubt not i)ut this populous city will 
 Yield many scholars. 
 
 Boult. But can you teach all tliis you speak of? 
 
 'Mar. Prove that I cannot, take me home agaioj 
 And prostitute me to the basest groom 
 Tiiat doth tVequcnt your house. 
 
 Boult. We.ll, I V, ill see what I can do for tho9 : 
 if I can place thee, 1' will. 
 
 (M/ir. But, amongst honest wfOPien? 
 
 I Boult. 'Failh, my acquaintance lies little amongst 
 j them. But .since my master and mistress ha'vc 
 ! bought you, tliere's no giiing but I y Jieir consent; 
 theielove I will make them acquainted with yoLJr 
 purpose, and 1 doubt not but I shall find them 
 tractable enough. Co.me, I'll do for thee what i 
 can ; come your ways. [Exeuiit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Enter GowEn. 
 
 Goto. Marina thus the brothel 'scape.s, and chaiMj^H 
 Into an honest house, our story says. 
 She sings like one immortal, and she dances 
 As goddess- like to her admired lays : 
 Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her neeld com- 
 poses 
 Nature's own shape, ofbnd, bird, branch, or berry ; 
 That even her art sisters the natural roses; 
 Her inkle, silk, twin witii the rubied cherry : 
 That pupils lacks she none of noble race, 
 Who pour their bounty on her ; and her gain 
 She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place; 
 And to her father turn onr thought again. 
 Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost; 
 Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived 
 Here where his daughter dwells ; and on this coast 
 Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv'd 
 God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence 
 Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, 
 His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; 
 And to him in his barge with fer\our hies. 
 In your supposing once more put yoin- si^ht; 
 Of heavy Pericles think this the bark: 
 Where, what is done in action, more, il 'might. 
 Shall be discovered; please you, sit and hark. [Exit. 
 
 Scene I.— On hoard Pericles' Ship, ojf Mil y lent. 
 A close pavilion on deck, with a curtain before 
 it ; Pericles within it, reclinimj on a couch. A 
 barge lyin<j beside the Tyrian vessel. 
 
 Enter tivo Sailors, one helonrjing to the Tyrian 
 
 vessel, the other to the barge: to them i iuLicANUa. 
 
 Tyr. Sail. Where is the lord Helicanns';' he cpd 
 
 resolve you. {To (he Sailor of Mi/ylene.) 
 
 O here he is. — 
 
 Sir, there's a barge put off from Mit_\ iene : 
 
 And in it is Lysimachus the govcruiT, 
 
 Who craves tc^c-ome aboard. What is yo'.ir will? 
 Hel. That he have his. Call ujj some geutleojen. 
 Tyr. Sail. Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls. 
 
 Enter two Gentlemen. 
 ) Gent. Doth your lordship call ? 
 Hel. Gentlemen, fyou. 
 
 There is some of worth would come aboard : 1 pray 
 To greet them fairly. 
 
 {The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descrnd, 
 and (JO on board the barye.) 
 
 Enter, front thence, Lysijiachus and Lords ; the 
 Tyrian Gentlemen, and the two Snilort. 
 
 Tyr. Sail. Sir, 
 This is the man that can, in aught you would. 
 Resolve you. 
 
 Lys. Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve yoaJ 
 
 Hel. And you, sir, fo outlive the age lam, 
 And die as I would do. 
 
 Lys. Vou wish me well. 
 
 Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphli> 
 Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, 
 I made to it, to know of whence ynri are. 
 
 Hel. f^irst, sir, what is your place? 
 
 Lys. I am governor of this place vou He before. 
 
 Hel. Sir, 
 Oin- vessel is of Tyre, in it tht king; 
 A man, who for this three montris hath not spoken 
 I'o any one. nor taken sustenance, 
 But to prorogue his grief 
 
 Ly*. fJpon what ground is his distemnerafure P 
 
 litl. Sir, it wouhi be too tedious to lepeat ; 
 
 k'.i 
 
690 
 
 PERICLES, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Bui the main jjrief of all spnngs from the loss 
 Of a beloved daiigliter and a wife. 
 
 Lys, May we not see iiiin, then? 
 
 li"!.. Yon tnaj' indeed, sir. 
 
 But f>ootless is your siglit : he will not speak. 
 To any. 
 
 //?••«• Vf t» let nie obtain my wish. 
 
 liel. Behold iiiin, sir: {Puricles disvovered.) this 
 was a goodly person, 
 Till the disaster, that, one mor'tal night, 
 Drove him to this. 
 
 Lys. Sir, king, all hail ! the gods preserve yon ! 
 Hail, 
 Hail, royal sir! 
 
 Hcl. It is ifi vain ; he will not speak to you. 
 
 i Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I dursc 
 wager, 
 Would winsome words of him. 
 
 Li/S. 'Tis well bethought. 
 
 She, questionless, with her sweet harmony 
 Ami other iliuice attractions, would allure, 
 And make a battery through his deafen'd parts. 
 Which now are midway stopp'd : 
 She, all as iiappy as of all tlie fairest. 
 Is, \vitli lier fellow maidens, now within 
 The leafy shelter, that abuts against ' 
 
 The island's side. 
 
 (//p luh'tspers one of the attendant Lords.) 
 {Exit Lord, in the barge of Lysimachus. 
 
 Hel. Sure, all's ellectless ; yet nothing we'll 
 
 omit [ness 
 
 That bears recovery's name. But, since your kind- 
 
 We have strctch'd thus far, let us beseech you 
 
 further. 
 That for our gold we may provision have^ 
 Wherein we are not destitute for want. 
 But weary for the staleness. 
 
 Lys. O, sir, a courtesy, 
 
 Which if we sliould deny, the most just God 
 For every gralf would st-nd a caterpillar, 
 And so inflict our province. — Yet once raore 
 Let me entreat to know at large the cause 
 Of your king's sorrow. 
 
 Hel. Sit, sir, I will recount it; — 
 But see, 1 am prevented. 
 
 Enter, from the barge, Lord, Marina, and a 
 young Lady, 
 
 Lys. O, here is 
 
 The lady that I sent for. Welcooie, fair one ! — 
 Is't not a goodly presence ? 
 
 Hel. A gallant lady. 
 
 Lys. She's such, that were I well assur'd she 
 came 
 Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish 
 No better choice, and think me rarely wed. — 
 Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty 
 lExpect even here, where is a khigiy patient: 
 If tiiat thy prosperous-artificial feat 
 'Can draw him but to answer thee iii aught, 
 Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay 
 As thy desires can wish. 
 
 Mar. Sir, I will use 
 
 My utmost skill in his recovery, 
 Provided none but I and my companion 
 Be suffer'd to come near hira. 
 
 Lys. Come, let us leave her. 
 
 And the gods make her prosperous : 
 
 {Marina sings.) 
 
 Lus. Mark'd he your music i 
 
 Mar. No, nor'look'd on us. 
 
 Lva. See, she will speak to him. 
 
 mar. Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear: — 
 
 Per. Hum! ha! 
 
 Mar. I am a maid. 
 
 My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, 
 But have been gaz'd on, coniet-like : she speaks, 
 My lord, that, may be, hath endur'd a grief 
 Mig-lit equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd. 
 Though wayward fortune did malign my state, 
 
 My derivation was from aiicestors 
 
 W ho stood equivalent with mighty kj^gs: 
 
 But time hath rooted out my parentage. 
 
 And to the world and awkward casualties 
 
 Bound me in servitude. — I will desist; 
 
 But there is something glows upon niy cheek, 
 
 And whispers in mine ear. Go not till he sjjeaic. 
 
 (A^ine\ 
 
 Per. My fortunes — parentage — good parentage — 
 To equal mint I — was it not thus? what say you ' 
 
 Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know my pji. 
 rentage. 
 You v/ould not do me violence. 
 
 Per. I do think so. 
 
 I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me. — 
 \ ou are like something that — What coun*ry-wo 
 Here of these shores ? [raanl 
 
 Mar. No, nor of any shores: 
 
 Yet I was UKirtally brouglit ibrtii, and am 
 No other tlian 1 r.pijear. 
 
 Per. I am jtreat with woe, and shall deliver 
 weeping. 
 My dearest wile was like this maid, and such a one 
 My daughter might have been : my queen's square 
 
 brows ; 
 Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight ; 
 As silver-voic'd* her eyes as jewel like, 
 And cas'd as richly : in pace another Juno ; 
 Who starves the ears she feeds, and nuikes them 
 hungry, [live :* 
 
 The more •she gives them speech. — W^here do you 
 
 Mar. Where I am but a stranger: from the deck 
 You may discern the place. 
 
 Per. Where were yon bred ? 
 
 .And how achiev'd you these endowments, which 
 \ ou make more rich to owe '! 
 
 Mar. Should I tell my history, 
 
 'Twouldsefui like lies disdain'd in the reporting. 
 
 Per. Pr'ythee speak ; 
 Falseness caimot come from thee, for thou look'st 
 Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace 
 For the crown'd truth to dwell in : I'll believe thee. 
 And make my senses credit thy relation. 
 To points that seem impossible: for thou look'st 
 Like one I lov'd indeed. What were thy friends ? 
 Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back, 
 
 i Which was when I perceiv d thee,) that thou cam'st 
 ^■om good descending ? 
 
 Mar. So indeed I did. 
 
 Per. Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st 
 Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury. 
 And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine, 
 If both were opeu'd ? 
 
 Mar. Some such thing indeed 
 
 I said, and said no more but what my thoughts 
 Did warrant me was likely. 
 
 Per. Tell thy story ; 
 
 If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part 
 Of my endurance, thou art a man, and 1 
 Have suffer'd like a girl : yet tliou dost look 
 Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves, and smiling 
 Extremity out of act. What were tliy friends ';* 
 How lost thou them ? Thy name, my most kind 
 
 virgin ? 
 Recount, I do beseech tliee : come, sit by me. 
 
 Mar. My name, sir, is Marina. 
 
 Per. O, I am mock'd. 
 
 And thou by some incensed god sent hither 
 To make the world laugh at me. 
 
 Mar. Patience, good sir. 
 
 Or here I'll -cease. 
 
 Per. Nay, I'll be patient ; 
 
 Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me. 
 To call thyself Marina. 
 
 Mar. The name Marina, 
 
 Was given me by one that had son»e power; 
 My father, and a king. 
 
 Per. How ! a king's daugiiier r 
 
 And call'd Marina ? 
 
 Mar. You said you would believe ow 
 
 I 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 b\)l 
 
 But, not to be a tronbler of your peace, 
 I will end here. 
 
 Per. But are yon flesh and blood ? 
 
 Have yon a working pulse? and are no lairy i" 
 No motion? — Wt-iij speak on. VVliere were yon 
 And whereiore caU'tt Marina ? [boru ? 
 
 Alar. Calld Maiina, 
 
 For I was boru at sea. 
 
 Per. At sea ! thy mother? 
 
 Mar. My mother was the daughter of a kiug ; 
 Who died the very njinute I was born, 
 As my good nurse Lychoridu liath olt 
 Deliver'd weeping. 
 
 Per. O, stop there a little ! 
 
 This is the rarest dieatn that e'er dull sleep 
 Did mock sad Cools witlial; this cannot he. 
 My daughter's hnried. {Aside.) Well: — where 
 
 were you bred ? 
 I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story. 
 And ne\er interrupt you. [give o'er. 
 
 Mar. You'll scarce believe me : 'twere best I did 
 
 Per. I will believe you by the syllable 
 Of what you shall deliver. Y et, give me leave : — 
 How came you in these parts? where were you 
 bred '•' [me ; 
 
 Mar. The king, my father, did in.Tharsus leave 
 Till cruel Cleon, witli his wicked wife. 
 Did seek to murder me : and having woo'd 
 A villain to attempt it, who having drawn, 
 A crew of pirates came and rescued me ; 
 Brought me to Mytilene. But now, good sir. 
 Whither will you have me ? Why do you weep ? 
 
 It may be, 
 You think me an impostor : no, good faith ; 
 I am the daughter to king Pericles, 
 if good king Pericles be. 
 
 rer. Ho,'Helicanus ! 
 
 Hel. Calls my gracious lord ? 
 
 Per. Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, 
 Most wise in general : Tell me, if thou canst. 
 What this maid is, or what is like to be, 
 Tiiat tlius hath made me weep ? 
 
 Hel. I know not ; but 
 
 Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene, 
 Speaks nobly of her. 
 
 Jjt/s. She would never tell 
 
 Her parentage ; being demanded that, 
 She would sit still and weep. 
 
 Per. O Helicanus, strike me, hononr'dsir; 
 Give me a gash, put me to present pain; 
 Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, 
 O'erbear the shares of my mortality, [hither, 
 
 And drown me with their sweetness. — O, come 
 'i'hou that beget'st him that did thee beget ; 
 Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tharsus, 
 And fofund at sea again ! — O Helicanus, 
 Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods, as loud 
 As thunder threatens us: This is Marina. — 
 What was thy mother's name ? tell me but that, 
 For truth can never be confirm'd enough, 
 Thi,ugh doubts did ever sleep. 
 
 Mar. First, sir, I pray. 
 
 What is your title ? 
 
 Per. I am Pericles of Tyre : but tell me now 
 (As in the rest thou hast been godlike perfect,) 
 My drown'd queen's name, thou jart the heir of 
 
 kingdoms. 
 And another life to Pericles thy father. 
 
 Mar. Is it no more to be your daughter, than 
 To say. my mother's name was Thaisa? 
 Thaisa was my iiiother, who did end, 
 Tb« minute I began. ['•.hild. 
 
 ^W, Now, blessing on thee, rise ; thou art my 
 fi<«c tiM fresh garments. Mine own, HeUcantJS, 
 (?!t't <)ead at Tharsus, as she shoidd have been, 
 u>? sava?;r! Cleon,) she shall tell thee all ; 
 When thou shalt kneel and justify in knowledge, 
 She is thy very princess. — Wiio is this ? 
 
 Hel. Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene, 
 Who, hearing of your melancholy state. 
 
 Did come to see you. 
 
 Per. I embrace you, .s-ir. 
 
 Give me my robes; I am wild in my oeholdiug, 
 
 heavens bless my girl ! But hark, what music ?— 
 'I ell Helicanus, my 3,Iarina, tell him 
 
 O'er, point by point, for )et he seems to doubt, 
 ilow sure you are my daughter. — But what nnisic ?— 
 
 Hel. My lord, 1 hear none. 
 
 Per. None ? 
 The music of the spheres: list, my Marina. 
 
 Li/s. It is tiot good to cross him : give him wa\. 
 
 Per. Ill rest sounds! 
 Do ye not hear ? 
 
 J^!/s. Music ? my lord, I hear— 
 
 Per. Most heavenly music : 
 It nips me unto list'ning, and thick slumber 
 Hangs on mine eye-lids ; let me rest. {Hesleejis.) 
 
 Lys. A pillow lor his head ; 
 
 {The curtain before the Pavilion of Pericles 
 is closed.) 
 So leave him all. — Well, my companion-friends. 
 It this but answer to my just beliel', 
 I'll well remember you. 
 
 [Ex-eunt Lysimachus, Helicanus., Marina, 
 and attendant Lady. 
 
 Scene il.— The same. 
 
 Pericles on the deck asleep ; Diana apjjearing to 
 him as in a vision. 
 
 Diu. My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee 
 thither, 
 And do upon mine altar sacrifice. 
 'J'here, w hen my maiden priests are met together 
 Before the people all, 
 
 Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife: 
 To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call 
 And give them repetition to the lil'e. 
 Peri'orm my bidding, or thou liv'st in woe : 
 Do't and be happy, by niy silver bow. 
 Awake, and tell thy dream. {Diana disappears.) 
 
 Per. Celestial Dif<n, goddess argentine, 
 
 1 will obey thee ! — Helicanus ! 
 
 Enter Lysimachus, Helicanus, and Marina. 
 
 Hel. Sir. 
 
 Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike 
 The inhospitable Cleon; but I am 
 For other service first: toward Lphesus 
 Turn our blown sails ; eftsoous I'll tell thee why.— 
 
 ( To Helicunua.) 
 Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, 
 And give you gold ibr such provision 
 As our intents will need ? [ashore, 
 
 Lys. With all my heart, sir ; and when you come 
 I have another suit. 
 
 Per. You shall prevail. 
 
 Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems 
 You have been noble towards her. 
 
 Lys. Sir, lend your arm. 
 
 Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt, 
 
 Enter Gower, before the Temple of Diana at 
 Ephesus. 
 
 Gow. Now our sands are almost run ; 
 More a little, and then done. 
 'J'his, as my last boon, give me, 
 (For such kindness must relieve D.e,) 
 That you aptly will suppose 
 What pageantry, what feats, what shcM'S, 
 VVhat minstresly, and pretty din, 
 '•'he regent made in Mitylin, 
 • o t'.reet ine king. So he has thriv'd, 
 That he is promis'd to be wiv'd 
 To fair Marina ; but in no wise, 
 Till he hath done his sacrifice. 
 As Dian bade* whereto being bound. 
 The interim, pray you, all confounti. 
 
692 
 
 PERICLES. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 In featber'd briefness s;iiJs are fiil'd. 
 And wislies {^!l out as they're will'd. 
 At EijIicsus, the temple see. 
 Our kins', a"'' !»" bis company. 
 i"h;it he can hither come so soon, 
 Is by your fiincy's thankful boon. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCKNE lU.—T/ie Temple of Diann at Ep/iestts ; 
 'I'lUlSA standinf/ near the Altnr, as Iliijk- 
 Prirsfi'ss ; a number of Virr/ins on each side ; 
 Ckiumon and other inhabitants of Ephesus at- 
 
 ieniliiicj. 
 
 Enter Pericles, tuith his Train; Lysimachus, 
 iluLiCANUS, Marina, and a Lady. 
 
 Per. Ilail, Dian ! perforin thy just command, 
 I here confess myself the king- of Tyre ; 
 VVho, frighted from my country, did wed 
 The fair i'haisa, at Pentapolis. 
 At sea in child-bed died she, but brought forth 
 A maid-child call'd Marina ; who, O goddess. 
 Wears yet thy siKer livery. She at 'I'harsns 
 Was nuis'd with Cleon ; whom at I'onrteen years 
 He sought to nnirder: but her better stars 
 Brought her to Mitylene ; against whose shore 
 Riding, her fortunes brought the n>aid abourd us, 
 \\ liere, by her own most cl. ar remembrance, she 
 Made known herself my daughter. 
 
 Ihai. Voice and favour I — 
 
 You are, yon are — O, royal Pericles.'— 
 
 {She faints.) 
 Per. What means the woman ? she dies! help, 
 
 gentlemen ! 
 Ccr. Noble sir. 
 If yoii have told Diana's altar true. 
 This is your wife. 
 
 Per. Reverend appearer, no ; 
 
 I threw her o'er'ooard with these very ar.ms. 
 Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant yoii. 
 ^*''' 'Ti.-! most certain. 
 
 Cer. Look to the lady ;— O, she's but o'erjoy'd. 
 Early, on blust'ring morn, this lady was 
 Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and 
 Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and plac'd 
 Mere in Diana's temple. [her 
 
 ^^'"- May we see them ? 
 
 Cer. Great .sir, they shall be brought you to my 
 house, 
 jVhither I invite you. Look! Thaisa is 
 Reeover'd. 
 
 Tfuii. O,' let me look ! 
 If he be none of mine, my sanctify 
 Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, 
 Dnt curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord. 
 Are you not Pericles? Like bim you speak. 
 Like him yon are : Did you not name a tempest, 
 A birth, and death ? 
 
 Per._ The voice of dead Thaisa ! 
 
 Thai. That Thaisa an> I, supposed dead 
 And drown'd. 
 Per. Immortal Dian ! 
 
 J hat. Now I know vou better. — 
 
 When we with tears parted Pentapolis", 
 The king, my father, gave yon such a ring. 
 
 . {Shews a rinrj.) 
 
 Pei . This, this . no more, you gods ! your pre- 
 sent kindness 
 Vlakes my past miseries s|x>rt: You .shall do well, 
 I hat I.:, the tourhiug of her lips I may 
 iVlelt, and no more be .seen. O come, he buried 
 A second tiuie within these arms. 
 , -'''''•• , My heart 
 
 ueaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. 
 
 {Kneels t,j 'Vfut'isa.) 
 
 Per. Look, %vho kneels here I Flesh of thy flesh 
 Thaisa ; 
 Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, 
 For she was yielded there. 
 
 Thai. Bless'd, and mine own! 
 
 Jlel. Hail, madam, and my queen ! 
 
 Thai. 1 know you not 
 
 Per. Yon have heard me say, when I did fly 
 from Tyre, 
 I left behind an ancient substitute. 
 Can you remember what I call'd the man .^ 
 I hue nam'd him oft. 
 
 Thai. 'Twas Helicanus then. 
 
 Per. Still confirmation : 
 Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. 
 Now do I long to hear how yon were found ; 
 How possiljly preserv'd ; and whom to thank 
 Besides tiie gods, for this great miracle. 
 
 Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord ; this man, 
 Through whom tl)e gods have shewn their power 
 
 ttiat can 
 From first to last resolve you. 
 
 Per. Reverend sir, 
 
 Tlie gods can have no mortal officer 
 More like a god than you. Will you deliver 
 How this dead queen re-lives ? 
 
 Cer. I will, my lord. 
 
 Beseech you, first go with me to my house. 
 Where shall be shewn you all was found with her; 
 How she came placed here witliin the temple ; 
 No needful thinir omitted. 
 
 Per. 
 
 Di 
 
 I bless thee for thy \ision, and will oti'er 
 
 My night oblations to thee. Thaisa, 
 
 This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter. 
 
 Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, 
 
 'I'liis ornament that makes tne look so dismal. 
 
 Will I-, my lov'd Marina, clip to form ; 
 
 An.d what these fourteen years no razor touch'd. 
 
 To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. 
 
 Thai. Lord Ceriii-.on hath letters of good credit. 
 Sir, that my father's dead. 
 
 Per. Heavens make a .star of him ! Yet there, 
 my queen, 
 We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves 
 Will in that kingdom spend our following days : 
 Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. 
 Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stiiy, 
 To hear the rest untold. — Sir, lead the way. 
 
 '[ Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Gower. 
 
 Gotv. In Antioch, and his daie;hter, you have 
 heard 
 Of monstrous lust the due and just reward ; 
 In Pericles, li.is queen and dauglifer, seen 
 (.\lthough as-sail'd with fortune fierce and keen,) 
 Virtue preserv'd from fell destrucfioirs blast, 
 Led on by heaven, and crown'd with j<)y at la.st 
 In Helicanus may you well descry 
 A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty : 
 In reverend Cerimon there well appears. 
 The wortii that learned charity aye wears. 
 For wicked Cleon and his wile, when f.ime 
 Had spread tlieir cursed deed, and honour'd 
 
 name 
 Of Pericles, to rage the city turn ; 
 That him and his lii.-y in Ins palace burn. 
 The gods for murder seemed so content 
 'J'o punisli them ; alt!io;igh not done, but meant 
 So on your patience evermore attending, 
 ?«ew joy wait on you! Here our play has ending 
 
KING LEAR. 
 
 The tragedy of Lear is deservedly cekhrated anion? the dramns of Shakspeare. There is perhars no play which 
 keefis the alteiilion so sfronjjly lixeU ; which so imich aRilates our passions, and iiileiests our cuiiosity 1 iie aniul 
 in\6lutioiis of di-lincl iiiteresls, Ihe sdikiiig oppositions of contrary cbaraolers, llic sudden clliln^'es of fnrluiie. and 
 the q nick sni-ce«.sion of (•\eiils, (ill flic iiiinil witi, a uerpetnal tumult of indizoatioii, pity, and hi'pe. Tlieie is no 
 fCflue «hirh does not londilmlc to the a^g-ravulion oi the distress or conduct to the action, and scarce a line which 
 does not conduce to the jirngrcss of tl.e scent-. So powerlul is the current of the poet's imf-Kiualioii, that tlie mind, 
 which once vcnlnns wiihin it, is Imrrifd irresistilily alonp. 
 
 On the seeming improliubili y of Ltar's cimdnct. ii may be observed, that he Is re|iresen(ed according to histories 
 at lliat time vulgarly received as true. And, i erhaps, iif we turn (jur thouKhls upon tlie barbarity and ignorance of 
 the age to whicli llie story is releried, it will appear nut so unlikely as wliile we esliuiale Lear's manners by our own. 
 Sucli preference of one danghler to aiintlier, or resignalion of dominion on such conditions, wo'.ild be yet credible, 
 if told of a pcliy prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by (he menlion of his earls and dukes, has given 
 us Ihe idi a of limes more civilized, and (f life regulated by softer manners; and the truth is, that thon!;h lie so 
 nicely discriminates, and so minalely describes the characters of men. he commonly neglects and confounds the cha- 
 chaiacters of agr-s, by mingling customs ancient ami moilern, English and foreign. 
 
 My learned friend, Mr. VVarton, who Ims in 'ihe. Ar/ieiiturer very minutely criticised (his play, remarks, that the 
 instances of cruelty are too .savage and shocking, and tiiat the intervention of lidmund destroys the suniilicity of 
 the story These olijectioiis may, I think, he answered, by repeating, tliat the cruelly of the daughters is an hisiorical 
 fact, to which Ihe poet has added litlie, ha\ing only drawn it into a series by diali'gue and action. But I am not 
 able to apologise with equal plausibility for the e.\tru ion of Cluster's eyes, which seems an act too hcwrid to be endured 
 in dramatic t^feibition, and such as must alwajs compel the mind to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let' it 
 be renu-mbered that our author well knew what wimld please llie audience for which he wrote. 
 
 The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of ihe action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of variety, 
 by (he art with which he is made to co operate wi(h the ch ef design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet 
 of combining pertidy, and connecting the wicked son with Ihe wicked daughter-, to impress this important moral, 
 that villany is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in ruin. 
 
 But though this moral be incidentally enforced. Shakspeare has suH'eied Ihe virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, 
 coiKrMry to (he natural ideas ofjiistice, to Ihe hope of the reader, and what is yet more strange, to the faith of chrmiicles. 
 Vet this conduct is justilicd by 'i'Jii' Special or, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, 
 and declares, that in Ins opinion, Ike Iraynhj has lost half Us beauly. Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, '.hat, to 
 iecuie (lie fiv< urable reception of Catu, the lotrii was puisviieU with much Jalse ami olwiuitioble crilu ism ami (hat cn- 
 <leav(Mirs had been used to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virlinius 
 miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of (he common events of human life: but since 
 all recsonahle bcmgs naturally love justice, 1 cannot easily be persuaded, that the observaiion of justice makes « 
 play worse; or that, if other excellencies are equal, Ihe audience will luit always rise better pleased fri'iii (lie tiiinl 
 trium|)li of persecuted virtue. In the piesent case, the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time of 'la(e, has 
 always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add anything to the general suffrage, I iiii?ht 
 relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's dea(h, that I know int whether I ever endured to reail agani 
 the last scenes of (he play, till I undeitook to revise them as an editor. There is another controversy among the 
 cri(ics concerning this play. It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind be (he loss 
 of his kingdom or the cruelty td his daughters. .Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced, by induction of 
 parlicular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary smrce of his dis(ress, and that the loss of royalty 
 iitiects jiiiu only as a secondary and subordinaie evil. He observes, with great justness, thai Lear would mine cur 
 cotnpassiiiii but little, did we not rather consider the injured latlwr than thedcgradtd king. The story of (his play, except 
 the e|iis(nie of Edmund, wiiich is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from GeotVry of iVIonmoutli, w .loui 
 Holiiislied generally copied; but lerhaiis immeiliatelv from an old hi toricol ballad. My reasim for believing that 
 the |ilay was posterior to the ballad, rather (ban the ballad to (he play, is, that the ballad has nothing ol Sl.aksiicaie s 
 iiocluiiial lemiiesl, which is too siriking t i have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudi- 
 ments of the play, but none of its ampliticalions; it tirst hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in c rcuinstances. 
 The writer of (he ballad added sonieihing to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, it more 
 bad occurred to his mind; and more must have occurred if he had scm Shakspeare. Jonuson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 I,E\|{ King or Britain. 
 
 KING OK IHANCE. 
 
 DLKE OF ULKGLNnY. 
 
 IH KE (iF COKNWALL. 
 
 J)L Ki; OF Al.H.AN V. 
 
 LUSL OF KiiNT 
 
 KAKL OF ULOSTER. 
 
 i-.lKi.\l«. .S'u/i lu Cluster. 
 
 l-.U.'dl N IJ, Hastiird iiuii to Gloster. 
 
 CI UA\, a Cuiirtier. 
 
 ().'■/ M.I II. Tenant to Olosler. 
 
 I'hysician. 
 
 Fool. 
 
 OSWALD, Steward to Goneril. 
 
 .J.'i Oj/icer, employed by Edmund. 
 
 GeiiHenuin, alltndant uii Cordelia. 
 
 A Herald. 
 
 SiTvimls lo Curnivall. 
 
 ( 
 
 Daughters lo Lear. 
 
 GONEIUL, 
 HEG.AN. 
 CUitDELIA, 
 
 Knights atiendiny on the King, Officers, ifessengert, 
 Soldiers, and Aitendauts. 
 
 Scene, — Britain. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 .Scene I. — A Room of State in Kin<j Lear's Palace. 
 
 Enter Kent, Ulostek, and Edmund. 
 
 Kent I flioiiglit, the kitijj had more affected tlie 
 duke ol .Mhaiiy, than Cornwall. 
 
 (!/(j it did alway.s .seem so to (is: but now, in 
 llie division of the kini^doin, it a|)ijeais not whicii 
 of tlie dukes he values most; for equalities ace so 
 weinli'd, that curiosity in neither can make choice 
 ol eillicr's moiety. 
 
 Kent. Is not tliis your son, my lord ? 
 
 (ito. His breediiifj, sir, hath been at my charp^e : 
 i haie so ot'leii liliish'd to acknowledge him, tliat 
 now I am brazed to it. 
 
 Kent I cminut conceive you. 
 
 Glo. .Sir, this yotinn fellow's mother could : wliere- 
 niioii she grew roimd-wombed ; and had, indeed, 
 su . a son (or her cradle, ere she had a husband lor 
 tier bed. i)o you smell a fault i 
 
 Kent. I cannot wish the fault (indone, the issue 
 uf it beini; so |)roijer. 
 
 (ito. lint I have, sir, a son by order of law, some 
 year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in n.y 
 account: linuinh this knave came somewhat saucily 
 into the world before he was sent for, yet was bin 
 mother fair; there was good sport at his making, 
 and the whoreson must be acknowledged. — Do you 
 know this noble gentleman, £dniund ? 
 
 Edm. No, my lord. 
 
 G/o. My lord of Kent: remember him hereaftei 
 as my honourable friend. 
 
 Edm. My .services to your lordship. 
 
 Kent. I must love you, and sue to know yon 
 better. 
 
 Edtn. Sir, 1 shall study deserving. 
 
 Gtu. iie hath been out nine years, and away he 
 shall again : — The kitjg is coming. 
 
 (Trumpets sound within.) 
 
694 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Enter Leak, Cornwall, Albani', Goneril, 
 Regan, Coudella, and Attendants. 
 
 Lear. Attend the lords of Frauce and Burgundy, 
 GlnUer. 
 
 Glo. I shall, my liepe. [Exeunt Qlo. and Edm. 
 
 Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker 
 purpose. [divided, 
 
 Give me the map there. — Know, that we have 
 I'l three, our kingdom ; and 'tis our fast intent • 
 To shake all cares and business from our age ; 
 Conferring them on younger strengths, while we 
 Unburdeu'd crawl toward death. — Our sou of Corn- 
 wall, 
 And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
 We have this hour a constant will to publish 
 (Jur daughters' several dowers, that iulure strife 
 R:.aybe prevented now. The princes, France and 
 
 Burgundy, 
 Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, 
 1 ong in our court have made their amorous sojourn, 
 And here are to be answer'd. — Tell uie, my daugh- 
 ters, 
 'Since now we will divest us, both of rule. 
 Interest of territory, cares of state.) 
 Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most? 
 That we our largest bounty may extend 
 Where merit doth most challenge it. — Goneril, 
 Our eldest-born, speak first. 
 
 Gon. Sir, I 
 
 Do love you more than words can v\'ield the matter, 
 Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; 
 Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; 
 No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour : 
 As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found. 
 A love, that makes breath poor, and speech unable ; 
 Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 
 
 Cor, What shall Cordelia do ? Love, and be 
 silent. (Aside.)- 
 
 Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to 
 this, 
 With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd ; 
 With plenteous rivers, and wide-skirted meads. 
 We make thee lady : To thine and Albany's issue 
 Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter. 
 Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall'? Speak. 
 
 Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister. 
 And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
 I find, she names my very deed ol love; 
 Only she C(unes too short, — tliat I profess 
 Myself an enemy to all other joys. 
 Which the most precious square of sense possesses ; 
 And find, I am alone felicitate 
 In your dear highness' love. 
 
 Cur. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside.) 
 
 And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's 
 More richer than my tongue. 
 
 Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever. 
 Remain this ample third ol our fair kingdom; 
 No less iu space, validity, and pleasure. 
 Than that confirm'd on Goneril. — Now, our joy, 
 Alihoiigh the last, not least; to wiiose young love 
 'I'he vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, 
 Strive to be interess'd ; wiiat can you say, to draw 
 A third more opulent than your sisters/ Speak. 
 
 Cor, Nothing, my lord, 
 
 liear. Nothing i' 
 
 Cor. Nothing. 
 
 Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again. 
 
 Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 
 My heart into my moiith : I love your majesty 
 According to my bond ; nor more, nor less. 
 
 Lear. How, how, Cordelia 'i" mend your speech 
 a little, 
 Lpst it may mar your fortunes. 
 
 Cor. Good my lord, 
 
 You have begot me, bred me, lov'<l me : I 
 Return those duties back as are right fit. 
 Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 
 Why have my sisters husbands, if they say. 
 
 They love you, all ? Haply, when I shall wed. 
 That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall 
 
 carry 
 Half my love with him, half my care, and duty : 
 Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters. 
 To love my father all. 
 
 Lear. But goes this with thy heart? 
 
 Cor. Ay, good my lord 
 
 Lear. So young, and so untender ? 
 
 Car. So young, my lord, and true. [dower : 
 
 Lear, Let it be so. — Thy truth then be thy 
 For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; 
 'J'he mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; 
 By all the operations of the orbs, 
 From whom we do exist, and cease to be; 
 Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
 Fropinquity, and property of blood. 
 And as a stranger to my heart and me 
 Hold thee, from this, for e\er. The barbaroQj 
 
 Scythian, 
 Or he that makes his generation messes 
 'I'o gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
 Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd. 
 As thou, my sometime daughter. 
 
 Kent. Good my liege, — 
 
 Lear. Peace, Kent ! 
 Come not between the dragon and his wrath : 
 I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest 
 On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight ! 
 
 {To Cordelia.) 
 So be my grave my peace, as here I give 
 Her father's heart from her I — Call Frauce; — Who 
 
 stirs ? 
 Call Burgundy. — Cornwall, and Albany, 
 With my two daughters' dowers digest this third 
 Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
 I do invest you jointly with my power, 
 Preeminence, and all the large eff'ects, [course. 
 That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly 
 With reservation of an hundred knights, 
 By you to be siistain'd, shall our abode [tain 
 
 Make with you by due turns. Only we still re- 
 The name, and all the additions to a kins; 
 1 he sway, 
 
 Revenue, execution of the rest, 
 Beloved sons, be yours : which to confirm. 
 This coronet part between you. [Giving the crown.) 
 
 Kent. Royal Lear, 
 
 Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, 
 Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd. 
 As my great patron thought on in my prayers, — 
 
 Lear. 'J'lie bow is bent and drawn, make I'roni 
 the shalt. 
 
 Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 
 Tlie region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly. 
 When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old 
 
 man ? 
 Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, 
 VV hen power to flattery bows ? To plainness ho- 
 nour's bound. 
 When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; 
 And, iu thy best consideration, check 
 This hideous rashness : answer my life my judgment, 
 Tiiy youngest daughter docs not love thee least; 
 Nor are tiiose empty hearted, whose low sound 
 Reverbs no hollovvuess. 
 
 Lear, Kent, on thy life, no more. 
 
 Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn 
 To wage against tiiine enemies ; nor fear to lose it. 
 Thy safety bi ing the motive.. 
 
 Lear. Out of my sight! 
 
 Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain 
 The true blank ol thine eye. 
 
 X/pflr. Now, by Apollo, — 
 
 Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 
 
 Thou svvear'st thy gods in vain. 
 
 Lear. ' O, vas.saJ ! miscreant! 
 
 [Laying Ids hand on his tword.) 
 
 Alb, §' Corn. Dear sir, forbear. 
 
 Kent. Do; 
 
SCICNK ]. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 G'J5 
 
 Kill thy uhysician, and the fee bestow 
 I'ljon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; 
 Or, whilst 1 can vent clamour from my thront, 
 rn tell thee, thou dost evil. 
 
 Lear. Hear me, recreant ! 
 
 On thine allegiance hear me ! — 
 Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, 
 (Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd 
 
 pride, 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power; 
 (Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,) 
 Ou.- potency made good, take tliy reward. 
 Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
 To shield thee from diseases of the world ; 
 And, oil the sixth, to turn thy hated back 
 U|)on our kingdom : if, on the tenth day following, 
 'I'liy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
 'J'he moment is thy death : Away ! by Jupiter, 
 This skall not be levok'd. [appear, 
 
 Kent. Fare tliee well, king : since thus thou wilt 
 Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. — 
 The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 
 
 {To Cordelia.) 
 That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said ! — 
 And your large speeches may vour deeds approve, 
 {To Regan and Goneril.) 
 That good eJfects may spring from words of love. — • 
 Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu ; 
 He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. 
 
 Reenter Gloster ; with France, BuRCiraov, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Glo. Mere's France and Burgundy, my noble 
 
 Lear. JMy lord of Burgundy, [lord. 
 
 We first addresj towards you, who with this king 
 Hath rivall'd for our daughter ; What, in the least, 
 Will you require in present dower with her. 
 Or cease your quest of love ? 
 
 Bur. Most royal majesty, 
 
 I crave no more than hath your highness otfer'd. 
 Nor will you tender less. 
 
 Lear. Right noble Burgundy, 
 
 When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; 
 But now her price is i'ali'n : Sir, there she stands ; 
 If aught within tliat little, seeming substance. 
 Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, 
 And nothing more, may fitly like your grace. 
 She's there, and she is yours. 
 
 Bur. I know no answer. 
 
 Lear. Sir, 
 Will \ou, with those infirmities she owes. 
 Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, [oath, 
 
 Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our 
 Take her, or leave her"!" 
 
 Bur. Pardon me, royal sir; 
 
 Election makes not up on such conditions. 
 
 Ltar. Then leave her, sir ; for, by the power 
 that made me, 
 I tell you all her wealth. — For you, great king, 
 
 ( To France.) 
 I would not from your love make such a stray. 
 To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you 
 To avert your liking a more worthier way. 
 Than on a wretch, whom nature is ashain'd 
 Almost to acknowledge hers. 
 
 France. This is most strange ! 
 
 That she, that even but now was your best object, 
 The argument of your praise, balm of your age. 
 Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time 
 Commit a thing S(» monstrous, to dismantle 
 So many folds of favour! Sure, her olfence 
 Must be of such unnatural degree. 
 That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd aflection 
 Fall into, taint : which to believe of her. 
 Must be a faith, that reason without miracle 
 Could never plant in me. 
 
 Cor. I yet beseech your majesty, 
 
 (If for I want that glib and oily art. 
 To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, 
 I'll do't before ) speak,) tiiat you make known 
 
 I It is DO vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 
 
 j No nnchaste action, or dishonour'd step, 
 
 I That hath depriv'd me of your grace at. J favour: 
 
 1 But even for want of that, for which I am richer: 
 
 I A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue, 
 
 i That I am glad I have not, though not to have U, 
 
 [ Hath lost me in your liking. 
 
 Lear. Better thoa 
 
 Had'st not been born, than not to have pl«>Qi' I um 
 better. 
 
 France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature. 
 Whxh oiten leaves the history unspoke. 
 That it intends to do? — JNly lord of Burgundy, 
 What say you to the lady? Love is not hne. 
 When it is mingled with respects, that stand 
 Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? 
 She is herself a dowry. 
 
 Bur. Royal Lear, 
 
 Give but that portion which yourself piopos'd 
 And liere f take Cordelia by the hand. 
 Duchess of Burgundy. 
 
 Lear. Nothing : 1 have sworn ; 1 am firm. 
 
 Bur. I am sorry then, you have so lost a father, 
 Tiiat you must lose a husband. 
 
 Cor. Peace he with Burgundy! 
 
 Since that respects of fortune are his love, 
 I shall not be his wife. [ing poor ; 
 
 France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, be- 
 Most choice, forsaken ; and most lov'd, despis'd 1 
 I'hee and thy virtues here I snize upon : 
 Be it lawful, I take »\> what's cast away. 
 Gods, gods I "tis strange, that from their cold'st 
 
 neglect 
 ]\Iy love should kindle to inflam'd respect. — 
 Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance. 
 Is queen of us, of ours, and our fiir France : 
 Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundyj 
 Shall buy this uniuiz'd precious maid oi me. — 
 Bid them farewell, Cordelia, tliuugh unkind: 
 Thou losest here, a better where to find. 
 
 Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; 
 for we 
 Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see 
 That face o(" hers again : — Therefore, be gone, 
 Without our grace, our love, our benizon. — 
 Come, noble Burgundy. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Bur</ur,di/, Corn- 
 wall, Albany, Gloster. ana Attendants. 
 
 France. Bid farewell to your sisters. 
 
 Cor. The jewels uf our father, with waslfd eyes 
 Cordelia leaves you : I know you what you are ; 
 And, like a sister, am most loath to call 
 Your faults, as they are nam'd. line well our father: 
 To your professed bostmis I commit him; 
 But yet, alas! stood I within his grace 
 I would prefer hiin to a better place. 
 So farewell to you both. 
 
 Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. 
 
 Reg. Let your study 
 
 Be, to content your lord ; who hath receiv'd you 
 At ibrtune's alms. You have obedience scaiitt d, 
 And well are worth the want that you have wanted. 
 
 Cor. Time shall unibid what plaited cunning lii.Jes ; 
 Who cover faults, at last slianie them derides. 
 Well may you prosper! 
 
 France. Come, my fair Cordelia. 
 
 [Exeunt France and Cordelia. 
 
 Gon. Sister, it is not a little 1 have to say, of what 
 most nearly apperlains to us both. 1 think, our 
 father will hence to-night. 
 
 Reg. That's most certain, and with you ; neit 
 month with us. 
 
 Gon. You see how full of changes his age i.*; 
 the observation we have made of it hath not been 
 little : he alwayii loved our sister most; and witlj 
 what poor judgment he hath now cast her oli", ap- 
 pears too grossly. 
 
 Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age : yet he hath 
 ever but slenderly known himself. 
 
 Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath becD 
 
69G 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 l)iit rash; then must we look to receive from liis 
 age, not alone the imperfectinns of long-ensraffed 
 condition, but, therewithal, the unruly waywardness, 
 that infirm and choleric years bring: witii them. 
 
 Reg. Such nnconstant starts are we like to have 
 from him, as this of Kent's banishment. 
 
 (Jfjn. There i.i further compliment of leave taking 
 between France and him. Pray you, let us hit to- 
 gether : If our father carry authority with .such dis- 
 positions as he bears, this lust surrender of his will 
 nut otfend us. 
 
 Beg. We shall further think of it. 
 
 Gan. We must do something, and i' the heat. 
 
 [Exetinf. 
 
 Scene II.— yl Hall in t/ieEarlofGlosters Castle. 
 Enter Edmund, n'ith a lettei . 
 Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess : to thy law 
 My services are bound : Wtiereibre should 1 
 Stand in the jjlague of custom; and permit 
 The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
 For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
 hag of a brother V Why bastard? wherefore base? 
 When my dimensions are as well compact, 
 My niind'as generous, and my shape as true, 
 .•\.s honest madam's issue? why brand they us 
 With base ? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? 
 Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
 More com, osition and fierce quality, 
 Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed. 
 Goto the creating a whole tribe of fops. 
 Got 'tween asleep and wake ? — Well then, 
 Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land ; 
 Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund, 
 As to the legitiuiate : Fine word, — legitimate ! 
 Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed. 
 And my invention thrive, Edmund tlie base 
 Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: — 
 Now, gods, stand n\i for bastards ! 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 C.lo. Kent banisli'd thus ! And France in choler 
 parted ! 
 And the king gone to night ! subscrib'd his power ! 
 Confin'd to exhibition! All this done 
 Ui)im the gad ! — Edmund ! how now ! what news '/ 
 
 Edm. So please your lordship, none. 
 
 {Putting up the letter.) 
 
 Glo. Wliy so earnestly seek yon to put up that 
 letter ? 
 
 Edm. 1 know no news, my lord. 
 
 Glo. What paper were you reading? 
 
 Edm. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Glo. No ? wliat needed then that terrible de- 
 spatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing 
 hath no such need to hide itself. Let's see : Come, 
 if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. 
 
 Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter 
 from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read ; lor 
 so much as I have perused, 1 find it not lit lor your 
 over-looking. 
 
 Glo. Give me the letter, sir. 
 
 Edm. I shall olfend, '< itlier to detain or gi\ e it. 
 The contents, as in part I understand them, are to 
 bl.inie. 
 
 Glo. Let's see, let's see. 
 
 Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he 
 wrnte this but as an essay or taste of my viitue. 
 
 Glo. ( Reads. ) T/iis policy, and reverence of 
 (7j/e, 7naki's tJie icorld bitter to the heat of ovr 
 times ; keep.'-, our fortunes from 2is, till our oldness 
 cannot relish them. Ibegintojindan idle and 
 fottd bondage in the o/'prcssioji of aged tyranny ; 
 who stvmjs, not as it hath poiver, hut as it is suf- 
 fered. Come to me, that of "this I may speak more. 
 If our father rvould sleep till I ivatced him, you 
 should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live 
 the beloved of i/our brother, Edgak. — Humph I — 
 Conspiracy l—iileep till I waked him,— you should 
 enjoy half his revenue.— My sou Edgar 1 Had he a 
 
 hand to write this ? a heart and brain to breed it in ■? 
 — Wlien came this to you ? who brought it ? 
 
 Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, there's the 
 cunning of it ; I found it thrown in at liie casement 
 of mv closet. 
 
 Glo. You know the character to be ycur brother's? 
 
 Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, 1 dur.s'. 
 swear it were his ; but, in respect of that, 1 would 
 fnin think it were not. 
 
 Glo. It is his. 
 
 Edm. U is his hand, my lord, but, I hope, lus 
 heart is not in the contents. 
 
 Glo. H ith he never heretofore sounded you iia 
 this business ? 
 
 Edm. Never, my lord : But I have often heard 
 bin) maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, 
 an<l fathers declining, the father should be as vvard 
 to the son, and the son manage his revenue. 
 
 Glo. O villain, villain! — His very opinion in the 
 letter! — Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, 
 brntish villain! worse than brutish! — Go, sirrah, 
 seek him; I'll apprehend him: — Abominable vil- 
 lain ! — Where is he ? 
 
 Edm. 1 do not well know, my lord. If it slml! 
 please you to suspend your indignation against my 
 brother, till you can derive from him better testi- 
 mony of his intent, you shall run a certain course ; 
 where, if you \iolently proceed against him, mis- 
 taking his purpose, it would make a great gap in 
 your own honour, and shake in pi"ces the earth of 
 iiis obedience. 1 dare pawn down my life for him, 
 that he hath writ this to feel niy aft'ection to your 
 honour, and to no other pretence of danger. 
 
 Glo. Think you so i 
 
 Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place 
 you where you shall hear ns confer of this, and by 
 an auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and 
 that w ithout any further delay than this very tveiiing. 
 
 Glo. He cannot he siicii a nwnster. 
 
 Edm. Nor is not, sure. 
 
 Glo. 'I'o his father, that so tenderly and entirely 
 loves him. — Heaven and earth! — Edmund, seek 
 him out ; wind me into him, I pray you : frame tlio 
 business after your own wisdom : 1 would unstat? 
 myself, t(i be in a due resolution. 
 
 Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the 
 business as I shall find means, and acquaint you 
 withal 
 
 Glo. These late eclip.ses in the snn and moon por- 
 tend no good to lis : though the wisdom of nature 
 can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself 
 scourged by the sequent effects : love cools, friend- 
 ship falls oil", briithers divide : in cities, mutinies ; 
 in countries, discord ; in palaces, treason ; and the 
 bond cracked between son and father. This villain 
 of mine comes under the prediction ; there's son 
 against father: the king falls from biis of nature; 
 there's father against child. We have seen the best 
 of our time : MaciiinatKuis, hoUowness, treachery, 
 and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our 
 graves! — Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall 
 lose thee nothing; do it carefully : — And the noble 
 and true-hearted Kent banished ! his offence, ho- 
 nesty ! — Strange 1 strange ! [Exii 
 
 Edm. Tliis is the excellent foppery of the world'. 
 that, v\hen we are sick in fortune, ( often tli!' surfeii 
 of our own behaviour. ) we make guilty of our ilis 
 asters, the sun, the moon, and the stars : us if we 
 were villains by necessity; fools, by heavenly coio 
 jiulsion ; knsves, thieves, and treachers, by sphericaj 
 predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by 
 an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; ana 
 all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : .\^ 
 admirable evasicn of wliore-master man, to lay hi^ 
 goatish disposition to the charge of a star I my fa- 
 thers compounded with my mother under the dragon's 
 tail : and my nativity was under vrsa major; so that 
 it follows, 1 am rough and lecherous.— Tut, I siiould 
 have been that I am, had the maidenli-.st star in the 
 firmament twinkled on my basta'diziug. Edgar — 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 007 
 
 Enter Edgar. 
 
 and pat he conies, like the catastrophe of the old 
 comedy : My cue is villanous mehincholy, with a 
 sipl- like Tom o'Bedlam. — O, tliese ecliiises do 
 portend these divisions ! fa, sol, la, mi. 
 
 Edff. How now, brother Edmund? What serious 
 contemplrttion are you in ? 
 
 Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I 
 read this other day, wliat should follow these eclipses. 
 
 Edg.- Do yon busy yourself with that? 
 
 Edm. 1 promise you, the effects lie writHs of, 
 succeed unhappily ; as of unnaturaliiess between 
 tlie child and tlie parent; death, deartli, dissolutions 
 ot ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and 
 maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffi- 
 dences, banishment ol friends, dissiijation of coiiorts, 
 nuptial breaclies, and 1 know not what. 
 
 Edy. How long have you been a sectary astro- 
 nomicar:" [last? 
 
 Edm. Come, come ; when saw you my father 
 
 Ed(j. Why, the night gone by. 
 
 Edm. Sp>»Le you with him ? 
 
 Ed'j. Ay, two hours together. 
 
 Edm. I'arted you in good terms ? Found vou no 
 dis|)iea.sure in him, by word, or countenance i 
 
 Edg. None at all. 
 
 Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you may have 
 ollended him : and at my entreaty, forbear his pre- 
 sence, till iome little time hath qualified the heat 
 of his displeasure ; which at this iust;int .so rageth 
 in him, tliat with the mischief of your person it 
 would scarcely allay. 
 
 Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. 
 
 Edm. I'liat's my fear. I pray you, ha\e a con- 
 tinent forbearance, till the speed ol his rage goes 
 slower ; and, as 1 say, retire with me to my lodging, 
 trom whence 1 will fitly bring you to hear my lord 
 speak: Pray \ou, go; there's my key: — if you do 
 stir abroad, go armed. 
 
 Juig. Armed, brother? 
 
 Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best ; go 
 armed ; 1 aii! no honest man, it there be any good 
 mfaning towards you: I have told you whatl have 
 s ( u and heard, but faintly; nothing like tlie image 
 ami horror of it: Pray you, away. 
 
 i'dg. Shall I hear iroui you anon ? 
 
 Edm. I do serve you in this business. — 
 
 [Exit Edgar. 
 X credulous fatiier, and a brother noble. 
 Whose nature is so far from doing harms, 
 'I'iiat he suspect.s none ; on w hose foolish honesty 
 .Vly practices ride easy ! — 1 see the business. — 
 Let me, if n()t by birth, have lands by wit : 
 .\ll with me's meet, that I can fashion fit. [Exit. 
 
 .Scene III. — A Room in (he Dvke of Albany's 
 PaUice. 
 
 Enter GoNEiUL and Steward. 
 
 Cron. Dii] my father strike my gentleman for 
 chiding of his itxA i 
 
 Slew. Ay, madam. [iiour 
 
 Gim. By day and night I lie wrongs me ; every 
 lie flashes int j one gross crime or oUier, 
 That sets us all at odds : I'll not en lure it : 
 Hi.s knights gi-ovv riotous, and himself upbraids us 
 On every trifle : — When he returns from hunting, 
 I will not speak with him ; say, [ am sick : — • 
 If you come slack of former services, 
 fou shall do well ; Hie fault of it I'll answer. 
 
 Stew. He's coming, madam ; I hear him. 
 
 {Horns within.) 
 
 (ron. Pat on what we<iry negligence you please. 
 You and your fellows; Id have it come to question ; 
 If he dislike it, let him to my sister. 
 Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, 
 Not to be over-ruled. Idle o!d man. 
 That still wouhl manage those authoriues, 
 Thathe hatli ^iven away !— Now, by my life. 
 Old fools are babes again ; and must be us'd 
 
 With checks, as fiatterie'S. — when they are seeu 
 Remember what 1 have said. l^busU. 
 
 ■*''"•'• Very well, madam. 
 
 Gon. .\nd let his knights have colder hmks among 
 you ; (so ; 
 
 What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows 
 I would breed from hence occasions, and i shall. 
 'I'hat I may speak : — I'll write straight to my sister, 
 'i"o hold my very course : [.repare for dinner. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Haliin the same. 
 Enter Kent, disguised. 
 Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow. 
 That can my speech diihise, my good intent 
 May carry through itself to that lull i.-^siie, 
 For which I ruz'd my likeness. — Now, banish'd 
 Kent, Idemii'd, 
 
 If thou can'st serve where thou dost stand con- 
 (So may it come !) thy master, whom thou lov'st. 
 Shall find thee full of labours. 
 
 Horns within. Enter Lear, Inights, and Atten- 
 dants. 
 
 Lear. Let nie not stay a jot for dinner ; go, j;et 
 it ready. \Exit an Attendant.] How now, what art 
 
 Kent. A man, sir. [lliou '■• 
 
 Lear. What dost thou profess? what would'st 
 thou with us? 
 
 heJtt. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to 
 serve him truly, that will put me in trust; to love 
 him that is honest; to conveise with hiiu thiit is wise, 
 and says little; to fear Judgment ; to tight, when I 
 cannot choose ; and to eat no fish.. 
 
 Lear. What art thou ;* 
 
 Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor 
 as the king. 
 
 Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is for 
 a king, thou art poor enough. What would st thou? 
 
 Kent. Service. 
 
 Lear. Who would'st thou serve ? 
 
 Kent. You. 
 
 Lear. Dost thou know me, felhiw ? 
 
 Sent. No, sir ; but you have tliat in your conn- 
 tenance, which I would fain call master. 
 
 Lear. Whafs tliat? 
 
 Kent. AuUiority. 
 
 Lear. VVhat services canst thou do ? 
 
 Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar 
 a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain mes- 
 sage bluntly : that which ordinary men are fir, for, 
 lam qualified in; and the titst of iiie is diligence. 
 
 Lear. How old art thou ? 
 
 Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for 
 singing; nor so old, to dote on her lor any ihing : 1 
 ha\e years on my back forty-eight. 
 
 Lear. Follow me : thou siialt .serve me ; III like 
 thee DO worse after dinner, i will not part from thee 
 yet. — Dinner, ho, dimurl — W here's my knave ? mj 
 fool ? CJo you, and call my fool hither : 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 You, you, sirrah, w'here's my daughter? 
 
 Stew. So please you, — [Exit. 
 
 Lear. What says the fellow there ? Call the clot- 
 poll back. — Where's my fool, ho'/ — J think the 
 world's asleep. — How now ? where s that mongrel ? 
 
 Knight He says, my lord, you daughter is not 
 well. 
 
 Lear. Why came not the slave back to me, when 
 I caird him ? 
 
 Knight. Sir, he answer'd me in the roundest 
 manner, he would not. 
 
 Lear. He would not! 
 
 Knight. .My lord, I know not what the matter is; 
 but, to my judgment, your highness is not enter- 
 tained with that ceremonious affection as you were 
 V.=.".t ; t!:m's a great abatement of kindness appears, 
 a>« well in the geueial dependants, as in ttic duke 
 himself also, and jour daughter. 
 
698 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Lear. H-a ! say'st thou so ? 
 
 Knight. I beseech you, pardon nie, my lord, if I 
 be mistaken ; for my duty canuot be silent, when I 
 think. jTJur highness is wrong'd. 
 
 Lear. Thou but remi-mber'st me of niine own 
 conception: I have perceived a most faint neglect 
 of late; which I have rather blamed as mine own 
 jealous curiosity, than as a very pretence and pur- 
 pose of uiikindness: I will look further into't— 
 But Where's my fool ? I have not seen hint this two 
 davs. . 
 
 'Knhjht. Since my young lady's going into h ranee, 
 sir. the fool hath much pined away. 
 
 Lear. No more ollhat; I have noted it well. — 
 Go you. and tell my daughter I would speak with 
 her. — Go you, call hitiier my fool. 
 
 Re-enter Steward. 
 O, vou sir, you sir, come you hither: Who am I, 
 
 S'ieio. My lady's father. [sir? 
 
 Lear. My lady's father ! my lord's knave : you 
 whoreson dog ! vou slave ! you ciir ! 
 
 Stew. I am none of this, my lord ; I beseech you, 
 pardon me. 
 
 Lear. Do you bandy looks witli me, you rascal .' 
 
 {Striking him.) 
 
 Sfeio. I'll not be struck, uiy lord. 
 
 Kent. Nor tripped neither,; you base foot-ball 
 plnyer. {Tripping tip his heels.) 
 
 Lear. I thank thee, fellow ; tliou servest me, and 
 I'll love tliee. 
 
 Kent. Come sir, arise, away ; I'll teach you 
 difierences ; away, away: If you will measure your 
 lubber's length again, tarry : but away : go to ; 
 Ha\ e you wisdom i so. {Pushing the Steward out.) 
 
 Lear. Noxv, my friendly knave, I thank thee : 
 there's earnest of tliy service. {Giving Kent tnotieij.) 
 
 Enter Fool. 
 Fool. Let me hire him too-— Here's my coxcomb. 
 {Giving Kent his cap.) 
 Lear. How now, my pret(y knave ? how dost thou . 
 Fool. Siirah , you were best take my coxcomb. 
 Kent. NVhy, tool i 
 
 Fool. Why? for taking one's part, that is out of 
 favour : Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind 
 sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly : There, take my cox- 
 comb : Why, tills fellow has banish'd two of his 
 daugiiters, and did the third a blessmg against his 
 wll ; if thou follow hiin, tiiouniust needs wear my 
 coxcomb.— How now, nuncle ? 'Would I had two 
 coxcombs, and two daughters! 
 Lear. Why, my boy? _ 
 
 Fool. If I gave them all my living, I d keep my 
 coxcombs myself: There's mine: beg another of 
 thy daughters. 
 
 Lear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip. 
 Fool. Truth's a dog that must to kennel ; he must 
 be whipp'd out, when Lady, tlie brach, may stand 
 by the tire and stink. 
 
 Lear: A pestilent gall to me ! 
 
 Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. 
 
 Lear. Do. 
 
 Fool. Mark it, nuncle :— 
 
 Have more than thou shevvest, 
 Speak less than thou knowest. 
 Lend less tiian thou owest, 
 Ride more than thou goest. 
 Learn more than thou trowest, 
 Set less than thou t'lrovvest; 
 Leave thy drink aad thy whore. 
 And keep in a-door, 
 And tbou ishalt have more 
 Tlian two tens to a score. 
 Jjear. Tliis is nothing, fool. 
 
 Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd 
 lawyer ; you gave me nothing lor't : Can you make 
 no use of nothing, nuncle ? 
 
 Lear. Why, no, boy; notiiing can be tuade cat 
 of uothing. 
 
 Fool. Pr'ythee, tell Lim, so mnch the rent of his 
 land comes to ; he will not believe a fool. {To Kent.) 
 Lear. A bitter fool ! 
 
 Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, 
 between a bitter fool and a sweet fool ? 
 Lear. No, lad : teach me. 
 Fool. That lord, that counsell'd thee 
 To give away thy land. 
 Come place him here by me. 
 Or do thou for him stand : 
 Tlie sweet and bitter fool 
 Will presently appear; 
 The one in motley here, 
 The other found out there. 
 Lear, Dost thou call me fool, boy ? 
 Fool. Ail thv other titles thou hast given away; 
 that thou wast f)orn with. 
 
 Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. 
 Fool. No, 'faith, lords and great Jien will not let 
 me ; if I had a monopoly out. they would have part 
 on't : and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool 
 to myself; they'll be snatching. — Give me an egg, 
 nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. 
 Lear. What two crowns .shall they be ? 
 Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i'tlie middle, 
 and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. 
 When thou clovest thy crown i'tlie middle, and 
 gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on 
 thy back over the dirt: Thou had'st little wit in thy 
 bald crown, when tliou gavest thy golden one away. 
 If I speak like myself iu this, i^^t him be whipp'd 
 that first finds it so. 
 
 Fools had ne'er less grace in a year ; {Singing.) 
 
 For toise men are aroivn foppish ; 
 Andknoiv not how their ivits to wear, 
 
 Their manners are so apish. 
 Lear. Wh(-n were you wont to be so full of songs, 
 
 sirrah ? 
 Fool. 1 have used it, nuncle, ever since thou 
 madest t!iy daughters thy mother : for when thou 
 gavest tliein tlie rod, and put'st down tliine own 
 breeches, 
 
 Then they for sudden joy did tveep, {Singing.) 
 
 And 1 for sorrow sunn, 
 That such a king should play bo-peep. 
 And go the fools among. 
 Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a shool-master that can 
 teach thy fool to lie ; 1 would fain learn to lie. 
 Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. 
 Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daiigliters 
 are : they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, 
 thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying ; and, so:netimes, 
 I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather 
 be any kind of thing, than a fool: and yet I would 
 not be thee, nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o'both 
 sides, and left nothing in the middle: Here comea' 
 one o'the parings. 
 
 Enter Goneril. 
 
 Lear. How now, daughter? what makes that 
 frontlet on? Methinks, you are too much of late 
 i' the frown. 
 
 Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st 
 no need to care for her frowning ; now thou art an 
 
 without a figure : I am better than thou art now: 
 
 1 am a fool, thou art nothing. — Yes, forsooth, I will 
 hold my tongue; so your face (2'o Gon.) bids me, 
 though you say nothing. Mum, mum. 
 
 He that keeps nor crust nor cnim, 
 Weaiy of all, shall want some. — 
 That's a shealed peascod. {Pointing to Lear*) 
 
 Gon. Not only, sir, this yo;ir all-licens'd fool. 
 But other of jour insolent retinue, 
 Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth 
 In rank and notto-be-endnred riots. Sir, 
 I had thought, by makii'g this well known unto yon. 
 To have found a safe redress ; but now grow fearful. 
 By what yourself too late have spoke iind done. 
 That yon protect this course, and put it on 
 By yuiir allowance; which if you should, the fauU 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 eyj 
 
 VVoiiId not 'scnpe censure, tior the redresses sleep ; 
 Which, in the tender of a wliolesonie weal, 
 Mi^ht in their working do yon tliat otlence, 
 Which else were shame, that then necessity 
 Will call discreet proceeding. 
 
 Fool. For you trow, iiuncle, 
 'l"he hedge sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, 
 That it had its iiead bit oH' by its young. 
 So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 
 
 Lear. Are you our daughter ? 
 
 Gon. Come, sir, I would, you would make use of 
 that good wisdom whereoi I know you are fraught ; 
 p,nd put away these dispositions, which of late trans- 
 form you from what you rightly are. 
 
 Foul. I\lay not an ass know, when the cart draws 
 the horse :' — Whoop, Jug ! I love thee. 
 
 Lear. Does any here know nie ? — W^hy, this is 
 not Lear: does Lear walk thus ^ speak thus:* 
 Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or 
 his discernings are lethargied. — Sleejnngor waking? 
 — Ha 1 sure 'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me 
 who I aui ^ — Lear's shadow? I would learn that; 
 tor by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and 
 reason. I should be false persuaded I had daughters — 
 
 Fuol. Which they will make an obedient father. 
 
 Lear. Vour name, fair gentlewoman? 
 
 Gun. Come, sir ; 
 This admiration is much o'flie favour 
 Of other your new pranks. 1 do beseech you 
 To understand my purposes aright; 
 As you are old and reverend, you slimild be wise : 
 Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires; 
 Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold. 
 That this our court, infected with their manners, 
 Shews like a riotous inn : epiciiri.stn and lust 
 Jlake it more like a tavern, or a brolhel, 
 Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak 
 For instant remedy : Be then desir'd 
 By her, that else will take the thing she begs, 
 A little to disquantity your train ; 
 And the remainder, that shall still depend, 
 To he such men as may besort your age. 
 And know themselves and you. 
 
 Lear. Darkness and devils ! — 
 
 Saddle my horses ; call my train together. — 
 Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee ; 
 Vet have I left a daughter. [rabble 
 
 Gon. You strike my people ; and you disorder'd 
 Make servants of their betters. 
 
 Enter Albany. 
 
 Lear. Woe, that too late repents. — O, sir, are 
 you come ? [horses. 
 
 Is it your will ? {to Alb.) Speak, sir. — Prepare my 
 Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend. 
 More hideous, when thou shew'st thee in a child. 
 Than the sea-monster ! 
 
 Alb. Pray, sir, be patient. 
 
 Lear. Detested kite! thou liest: [To Goneril.) 
 My train are men of choice and rarest parts, 
 That all particulars of duty know ; 
 And in the most exact regard support 
 The worships of their name. — O most small fault. 
 How ugly didst thou in Cordelia shew ! 
 Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature 
 From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love. 
 And added to the gall. O, Lear, Lear, Lear ! 
 Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 
 
 {Striking his head.) 
 And thy dear judgment out ! — Uo, go, my people. 
 
 Aib. My lord, 1 am guiltless, as I am ignorant 
 Of what hatii mov'd you. 
 
 Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ; 
 Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if 
 Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful! 
 Into her womb convey sterility ! 
 Dry up in her the org.ins of increase ; 
 And from her derogate body never spring 
 A babe to houdur her! If she must teem. 
 Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, 
 
 And be a thwait disnatur'd torment to fier .' 
 
 Let it starnj) wrinkles in her brnw of youth ; 
 
 VVith cadent tears fret channels in I'.ei Liieeks; 
 
 Turn all her motherpains, and benefits. 
 
 To laughter and contempt; tiiat she may feel 
 
 How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 
 To have a thankless cliild ! — .^way, away ! [E.tii. 
 
 Alb. Now, gods, that we adoi'e, whereof comes 
 this ■? 
 
 Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause; 
 But let his disposition have that scope 
 That dotage gives it. 
 
 Re-enter liEAR. 
 What, fifty of my followers, at a clap! 
 Within a fortnight'^ 
 
 Alb. What's the matter, sir ? 
 
 Lear. I'll tell thee ; — Life and death ! 1 as) 
 asham'd 
 That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus: 
 
 ( To Guneril.) 
 That these hot tears, wliich break from me perlorce. 
 Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and fogs 
 
 upon thee ! 
 The untented woundings of a father's curse 
 Pierce every sense about thee ! — Old fund eyes, 
 Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out; 
 And cast you, with the waters that you lose, 
 'I'o temper clay. — Ha ! is it come to this V 
 Let it be so : — Vet have I left a daughter. 
 Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable ; 
 When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 
 She'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shall hnd, 
 That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 
 I have cast off for ever; thou shall, I warrant thee. 
 [Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants. 
 Gon. Do you mark that, my lord ? 
 Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 
 To the great love I bear you, — 
 
 Gon. Pray you, content. — What, Oswald, ho! 
 You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. 
 
 [Tu the Fool.) 
 Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, and 
 the fool with thee. 
 
 A fox, when one has caught her. 
 And such a daughter. 
 Should sure to the slaughter. 
 If my cap would buy a halter; 
 So the fool follows after. [Esii. 
 
 Gon. 'I'his man hath had good counsel : — A huu- 
 dred kni^;hts! 
 'Tis politic, and safe, to let him keep 
 At point, a bundled knights. Yes, that on everj 
 
 dream. 
 Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike. 
 He may enguard his dotage with their powers. 
 And hold our lives in mercy. — Oswald, 1 say ! — 
 Alb. Well, you may fear too far. 
 Gon. Safer than trast: 
 
 Let me still take away the harms I fear. 
 Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart: 
 What he hath ntter'd, I have writ my sister; 
 If she sustain hiui and his hundred knights. 
 When I lune shew'd the unfitness. — llow now, 
 Oswald ? 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 VVhat, have you writ that letter to my sister? 
 
 Stew. Ay, madam. 
 
 Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse: 
 Inform her full of my particular fear; 
 And thereto add such reasons of your own. 
 As may compact it more. Get you gone ; 
 And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.\ No, no, my 
 
 lord. 
 This milky gentleness, and course of yours. 
 Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon. 
 You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom. 
 Than prals'd for harmful mildness. 
 
 Alb. How far your eyes may | ieice, } cannot fell; 
 
700 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 A.-r |[. 
 
 Striving to hetter, oft we mar whafs well. 
 Gon. Nay, then — 
 Aib. Well, well: the event. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — Cotirt before the same. 
 
 Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 
 
 Ijear, Go you before to Gloster with these let- 
 ters : acquaint my daughter no further with any 
 tiling: you know, than comes from her demand out 
 of the letter: If your diligence be not speed}-, I 
 shall be there before you. 
 
 Kent. I \\\\\ not sleep, my lord, till I have deli- 
 vered your letter. _ [Exit. 
 
 Fool. W a man's brains were in his heels, were't 
 not in danger ot kibes? 
 
 Lear. Ay, boy. 
 
 Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit shall 
 not go slip-shod, 
 
 Lear. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Fool. Shalt see, thy other daug'iter will use thee 
 kindly : for though she's as like this as a crab is like 
 an apple, yet I can tell what [ can tell. 
 
 Lear, Why, what can'st thou tell, my boy ? 
 
 Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does 
 to a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands 
 i'tlie niiddie of his face? 
 
 Lear. No. 
 
 Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side his 
 nose; tiiat what a man cannot smell out, he may 
 spy into. 
 
 Lear. I did her wrong : 
 
 Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ? 
 
 Lear. No. 
 
 Fool. Nor I neither: but I can tell why a snail 
 has a house. 
 
 Lear. Why ? 
 
 Fool. \Vliy, to put his head in ; not to give it 
 away to his daughters, and leave liis horns without 
 a ca.se. 
 
 Lear. I will forget n;y nature. — So kind a fa- 
 ther ! — Be my horses ready ? 
 
 Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The rea- 
 son why the seven stars are no more than seven, 
 is a pretty reason, 
 
 Lear. Uecaiise they are not eight? 
 
 Fool. Yes, indeed : 'I'hou would'st make a good 
 fool. 
 
 Lear. Ti> take it again, perforce! — Monster 
 ingratitude ! 
 
 Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have 
 thee beiiten for being old before thy time. 
 
 Lear. Ilow's thrtt ? 
 
 Fool. Tliiiu should'st not have been old, before 
 thou hadst been wise. 
 
 Lear. O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet 
 h(-aven ! 
 Ivccp me ill temper: I would not be mad I 
 
 Enter Gentleman. 
 Ilo'.v cow I Are the horses ready? 
 Gent. Heady, my lord. 
 Lear. Come. boy. 
 
 Fool. .She that m maid now, and laughs at my 
 departure. 
 Shall not be a moid long, unless things he rut 
 shorter. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Court ivithin the Castle of the Earl 
 
 of Gloster. 
 
 Enter Edmund and Curax, meeting. 
 
 Edm. Save tiiee, Curan. 
 
 Cur. And you. sir. I iia\e been with your father; 
 and given him notice, th.if the duke of Cornwall, 
 and Regan his duchess, will be here with him to- 
 tight. 
 
 Edin. Ili-.w (omes that? 
 
 Cur. Nay, I know not; Voi: have heard of the 
 
 news abroad; I mean the whispered ones, for 
 they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ? 
 
 Edm. Not I; 'Pray you, what are liiey? 
 
 Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 
 'twixt the duke of Cornwall and Albany ? 
 
 Edm. Not a word. 
 
 Cur. You may then, in time. Fare you vvell, 
 sir. [Exit, 
 
 Edm. The duke be here to-night? The better 
 Best! 
 This weaves itself perforce into my business! 
 My father hath set guard to take my brother; 
 And I have one thing, of a queazy question. 
 Which I must act: — Briefness, and fortune,work!-^ 
 Brother, a word ; — descend : — Brother, I say ; 
 
 Enter Edgar. 
 
 My father watches : — O sir, fly this place : 
 Intelligence is given where you are hid ; 
 You have now the good advantage of the night:— 
 Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of Corn- 
 wall? 
 He's coming hither; now, i'the night, i'the haste. 
 And Regan witii him : Have you nothing said 
 Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany? 
 Advise yourself. 
 
 Edg. I am sure on't, not a word, 
 
 Edm. I hear my father coming, — Pardon me: — 
 111 cunning I must draw my sword upon you: — 
 Draw: Seem to defend yourself: Now quit you 
 
 well. 
 \'ield ; come before my father : — Light, ho, here ! — 
 Fly, brother: — Torches! 'torches !^-So, farewell. — 
 
 [Exit Ed<jar. 
 Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 
 
 ( Wounds his arm) 
 Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunk- 
 ards 
 Do more than this in sport. — Fathei ! father ! 
 Stop, stop ! No help ? 
 
 Enter Gloster and Servants, ivith Torches. 
 
 Glo. Now, Edmund, where's the villain ? 
 
 Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword 
 out. 
 Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon 
 To stand his auspicious mistress : — 
 
 Glo. But where is he ? 
 
 Edm. Look, sir, I bleed. 
 
 Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ? 
 
 Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means 
 he could — ' 
 
 Glo. Pursue him, ho! — Go after. — [Exit Serv.] 
 By no means,— what? 
 
 Edm. Persr.ade me to the murder of your lord 
 ship ; 
 Rut that I told him, the re\ enging gods 
 'Gainst parricides did all llifir thunders bend; 
 Spoke, wi:h how manifold and sinmg a bond 
 The child w-as hound to the father; — Sir, in fine 
 Seeing how loathly opposite i stoi;d 
 'I'o his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, 
 \Vith his prepared sword, he charges home 
 My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm : 
 But when he saw my best alarnm'd spirits, 
 Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to tlie enconnte ", 
 Or whether gasted by the noise I made^ 
 Full suddenly he fled. 
 
 Glo. Let him fly far : 
 
 Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ; 
 And found — Despatch. — The noble duke mj' master. 
 My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight- 
 By his autliority I will proclaim it, 
 Tliat he, which finds hiui, shall deserve our thanks. 
 Bringing tlie murderous coward to the stake ; 
 He that conceals him, death. 
 
 Edm. When 1 dissuaded him from his intent. 
 And found him piglit to do it, with curst speech 
 I threatened to discover him : He replied. 
 Thou unpossessiny bastard f dost thou think 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 roi 
 
 // I tcouhl stand against t/iee, ivmtld the reposal 
 
 O/i.-ry tiufit. virtue, or worth, in tliea 
 
 Dlal-e thy words Jait/t'd/ No, w/iat I shotildde.tiy, 
 
 {As i/iis I ivoiild ; oythmnjh thou didst produce 
 
 My very character.) I'd turn it all 
 
 To thy stKjfjcstion, plot, and damned practice : 
 
 And thou must make a dullard of the world, 
 
 If they not thotight the profits oj' nnj death 
 
 Were very pregnant and potential spurs 
 
 To make thee seek it. 
 
 Glo. Strong; and fasten'd villain I 
 
 Would he deny his letter? — 1 never gcit him. 
 
 [Trvmpets within.) 
 Hark, the duke's triuiipets ! I know not w hy he 
 
 conies ; 
 All jjorts III bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ; 
 'J'he duke ninst grant me (hat: besides, his picture 
 I will send /ar and near, that all the kingdom 
 May have due note of him ; and of my land,] 
 Loyal and n^itural boy, I II work the means 
 To make thee capable. 
 
 Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. 
 
 Ccr»«. How now, my noble friend? since I came 
 
 hither, (news. 
 
 (Which I can call but now,) I have heard strange 
 
 Regan. If it be true, all vengeance comes too 
 
 short, (lord ':' 
 
 Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my 
 
 Glo. O, madam, my old heart is crack 'd, is 
 crack'd I 
 
 Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your 
 life ? 
 E^e, vvliorn my father nam'd ? Your Edgar? 
 
 Glo. O lady, lady, shame woidd have it hid ! 
 
 Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous 
 That tend upon my father :' [knights 
 
 Glo. I know not, madam ; 
 
 It is too bad, too bad. — 
 
 Edm. Yes, madam, he was. 
 
 Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill af- 
 fected ; 
 'Tis tlifv have put him on the old inan'.^ death, 
 To ha\e the waste and spoil of his revenues. 
 1 ha^e this present exening from my sister 
 Been well inform'd of them ; and with such cau- 
 tions, 
 Tliat, if they come to sojourn at my house, 
 I'll not be there. 
 
 Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 
 
 Edmund, 1 hear tliat you have shewn your father 
 A child-like ofnce. 
 
 Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. 
 
 Glo. lie did bewray his practice ; and receiv'd 
 This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 
 
 Corn. Is he pursued ? 
 
 Glo. Ay, mv good lord, he is. 
 
 Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more 
 Be ftar'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, 
 How ill my strength you please. — For you, Ed- 
 mund, 
 W hose virtue and obedience doth this instant 
 ■So much commend itself, you shall be ours : 
 Natures oi such deep trust we shall much need; 
 Yon we first seize on. 
 
 Edm. I shall serve you, sir, 
 
 'I'ruly, however else. 
 
 Glo. For hira I thank your grace. 
 
 Com. You know not why we came to visit you, — 
 
 Reg. Thus out of season ; tlireading durk-ey'd 
 night. 
 Occasions, noble Closter, of some poize. 
 Wherein we iinist liave use of your ad\ice: — 
 Our father he hafh w rit, so iiadi <iiir sister, 
 Ofdifl'er nces, which I best thought it fit 
 To answer from our home ; the several uiessengers 
 I'lom hence attend despatch. Our good old friend, 
 Lay cniiitorts to jourh.isom; and bestow 
 V our needlul ciuuistl to our business, 
 VVhicM craves the instant use. 
 
 Glo. 1 serxe you, niiidan: : 
 
 Your graces are right welcome. {Exeunt^ 
 
 Scene II. — Before Gloster's Ca.itle. 
 
 Enter Kent and Steward, severally. 
 
 Steiu. Good dawning to thee, friend: .Art of the 
 
 Kc-nt. Ay. [house ? 
 
 Srew. Where may we set our horses? 
 
 Kent. Ithe mire. 
 
 Stew. Pr'ythee, if thou love nie, tell me. 
 
 Kent. I love thee not. 
 
 Stew. Why, then 1 care not for thee. 
 
 Kent. II' I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would 
 make thee care for me. 
 
 Stew. Why dost thou use nie thus ? I know 
 thee not. 
 
 Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 
 
 Stew. What dost thou know me for? 
 
 Kent. A kna\e; a rascal, an eater of broken meats; 
 a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hun- 
 dred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lilyli- 
 ver'd, action-taking kna\ e ; a whoreson, glass-gazing, 
 superser\iceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting 
 skive; one that would'st be a bawd, in way of good 
 service, and art nothing but the composition ol a 
 knave, begnar, coward, pander, and the son and heir 
 ol a mongrel bitch: one whom 1 will beat into cla- 
 morous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of 
 thy addition. 
 
 Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, 
 thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, 
 nor knows thee ? 
 
 Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to 
 deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since 1 
 tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king? 
 Draw, you rogue ; for, though it he night, the moon 
 shines; I'll make a sop o'the moonshine of you: 
 Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-monger, draw. 
 
 {Drawing his sword.) 
 
 Sleiv. Avvay; I have nothing to do with thee. 
 
 Kent. Draw, you rascal: you come with letters 
 against the king; and take vanity the puppet's part, 
 against the loyalty of her father: Draw, you rogue, 
 or III so carbonado your shanks: — draw, you rascal; 
 come your \va\s. 
 
 Steiv. Help, ho! murder! help! 
 
 Kent. Strike, you slave ; stand, rogue, stand ; 
 you ijf at slav e, strike. [Beating him.) 
 
 Steiu. Help, ho ! murder ! murder I 
 
 Enter Edjiund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, 
 and Servants. 
 
 Ed?n. How now? What's the matter? Part. 
 
 Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please; 
 come, I'll flesh you ; come on, yourg master. 
 
 Glo. Weapons! arms! What's tlie matter here'? 
 
 Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives; 
 He dies, that strikes again : What is Jie matter ' 
 
 Reg. The messengers from our sister and the 
 king. 
 
 Corn. What is your difference ? speak. 
 
 Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord. 
 
 Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your va- 
 lour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in 
 thee ; a tailor made thee. 
 
 Corn. Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make 
 a man '! 
 
 Kent. .4y, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter, or a 
 painter, could not have made him so ill, though they 
 Iiad been but two hours at the trade. 
 
 Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ? 
 
 Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose lil'e I have 
 spar'd. 
 At stiit of his grey beard, — 
 
 Kent. Tliou whoreson zed ! thou unnecessary let- 
 ter! — My lord, if you will give me lr:a\e. Twill 
 tread this iiubilted villain into mortar, and daub the 
 wall of a iakes with him. — Spare my grey beard, 
 you wagtail ! 
 
 Corn, i^eace, sirrah ! 
 
702 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act if. 
 
 You beastly kn^ive, know you no reverence ? 
 
 Kent. Yfs, sir; but anger has a privilege. 
 
 Corn. Why art thou angry V 
 
 Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a 
 
 sword, [these, 
 
 Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as 
 
 I-ike rats, oi't bite the holy cords atwain 
 
 Which are too intriuse t'unloose : smooth every 
 
 passion 
 Th;it in the natures of their lord rebels ; 
 Being oil tofite, snow to their colder moods J 
 Kenege, aftirm. and turn their halcyon beaks 
 With every gale and vary of their masters, 
 As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. — 
 A plague upon your epileptic visage I 
 Smile you my speeches, as 1 were a fool ? 
 Goose, if I had you upon Saruin plain, 
 I'd drive ye cackling home to Canielot. 
 
 Corn, What, art thou mad, old fellow? 
 
 Glo. How fell you out? 
 
 Sav that. 
 
 Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, 
 Than I and such a knave. 
 
 Corn. Why dost thou call him knave ? What's 
 his otfence V 
 
 Kent. His countenance likes me not. 
 
 Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, 
 or hers. 
 
 Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain; 
 I have seen better faces in my time, 
 'J'han stands on any shoulder that I see 
 Before me at this instant. 
 
 Corn, This is some fellow. 
 
 Who, haxing been prais'd for bhmtness, doth aifect 
 A saucy roughness ; and constrains the garb. 
 Quite from his nature : He cannot flatter, he ! — 
 An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth: 
 An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. 
 These kind of kna\ es I know, which in this plain- 
 ness 
 Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 
 'J'hnn twt-nty silly duf-king observants. 
 That stretch their duties nicely. 
 
 Kent. S,r, in good sooth, in sincere verity, 
 Under the allowance of your grand aspect. 
 Whose iiilluence, like the wreath of radiant fire 
 On flickering Phoehus' iront, — 
 
 Corn, What mpan'st by this ? 
 
 Kejtt. To go out of my dialect, which you dis- 
 commend so much. 1 know, sir, 1 am no flatterer: 
 he that beguiled you in a plain accent, was a plain 
 knave; which, for my part, 1 will not be, though 
 1 should win your displeasure to entreat me to it. 
 
 Corn. What was the offence you gave him ? 
 
 Ste%v. Never any : 
 
 It pieas'd tlie king his master, very late, 
 'I'o strike at me, niwn his misconstruction; 
 When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, 
 Trip|)'d me behind ; being down, insulted, rail'd. 
 And put upon him such a deal of man, 
 That worthy'd him, got praises of the king 
 For him attempting who was self-subdu'd ; 
 And, in the fleshmentof this dread exploit. 
 Drew on me here. 
 
 Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards, 
 
 But Ajax is their fool. 
 
 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho ! 
 
 You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
 VVe'll teach you — 
 
 Kent. Sir, I am too old to learu; 
 
 Call not your stocks for me : I serve the king ;' 
 On whose employment I was sent to you : 
 Y'ou shall do small respect, shew too bold malice 
 Against the grace and person of my master, 
 blocking his messenger. 
 
 Com. Fetch forth the stocks ! 
 
 As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till noon. 
 
 Beg. Till noon ! till night, my lord ; and all 
 / ni^ht too. 
 
 Kent. Why madam, if I were your father's dog. 
 
 You should not use nne so. 
 Reij. Sir, beuig liis kia\e, I will 
 
 [Stocks brutifjlu out) 
 Corn. This is a fellow of the self-saine colour 
 Our sister speaks of: — Come, bring away the stocks^ 
 
 Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so : 
 His fault is much, and the good king his niaster 
 Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction 
 Is such, as basest and contemued'st wretches. 
 For pilferings and most common trespasses, 
 Are punish'd with : the king must take it ill, 
 'I'hat he's so slightly valued in his messenger, 
 Should have him thus restraiu'd. 
 
 Corn. I'll answer that. 
 
 Reg. My sister may recei\ e it much more worse. 
 To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted. 
 For following her affairs. — Put in his legs. — 
 
 (Kent is put in the stools.) 
 Come, my good lord ; away. 
 
 [Exeunt ReQan cnid Cornwall, 
 Glo. I am sorry tor thee, fiienil ; 'tis the duke's 
 pleasure, 
 Whose disposition, all the world well knows, 
 VVilliUot be rubb'd, nor stopp'd : I'll entreat foi 
 thee. 
 Kent. Fray, do not, sir : I have watch'd, and 
 traveli'd hard ; 
 Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll wliistle. 
 A good man's fortune may grow out at heels: 
 Give you good-morrow \ 
 Glo. Tlie duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill 
 taken. [Exit. 
 
 Kent Good king, that must approve the com- 
 mon saw ! 
 Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st 
 'i'o the warm sun! 
 
 Apprtiach, tiiou beacon to this under globe, 
 That by tliy couiiortable beams I may 
 Peruse this letter! — Nothing alntost sees miracles. 
 But misery; — I know, 'tis Irom Cordelia ; 
 Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 
 Of my obscured course ; and siiall find time 
 From this enormous state, — seeking to give 
 Losses tlitir remedies: — All weary and o'tr- 
 
 watch'd, 
 Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 
 This shameful lodging. 
 
 Fortune, good night; smile once more: tmu tiiy 
 wheel ! [He sleeps,] 
 
 Scene III. — A Part of the Heath. 
 Enter Edgar. 
 Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd ; 
 And, by the happy hollow of a tree, 
 Escap'u the liimt. No port is free ; no place. 
 That guard, and most unusual vigilance. 
 Does not attend my taking. While I may 'scape, 
 I will preserve myself: and am bethought 
 To take the basest and most poorest shape. 
 That ever penury, in contempt of man. 
 Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime witb 
 
 filth; 
 Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots. 
 And with presented nakedness out-face 
 'I'he winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
 The country gives me proof and precedent 
 Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices. 
 Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
 Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of ro.semary; 
 And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
 Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills. 
 Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with praters. 
 Enforce their charity. — Poor Turlygood ! poor '1 om ! 
 That's something yet ; — Edgar I nothing am. [SstVt 
 
 Scene \Y,— Before Gloster's Castle, 
 Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. 
 Lear. ' Tis strange, that they should so depar 
 from bome. 
 And not send back my messenger. 
 
Scene 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 703 
 
 Gent. As I leara'd. 
 
 Tin c-ight before there was no purpose in them 
 OF this remove. 
 Kent. Hall to thee, nohle roaster i 
 
 Lear. Kqw! 
 iVlak.'st thou this shame thy pastime ? 
 Kent. No, my loril. 
 
 Fool. Ha, ha; look! he wears critel garters! 
 Horses are tied by the heads ; dogs, and bears, by 
 the neck ; monkies by the loins, and men by tlie 
 legs : wlien a man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears 
 wooden neithe.r-stocks. [mistook, 
 
 Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place 
 1\) set thee here ? 
 
 Kent. It is both he and she, 
 
 Voiir son and daughter. 
 Lear. No. 
 Kent. V'es. 
 Lear. No, I say. 
 Kent. I say, yea. 
 Lear. No, no ; they would not. 
 Kent. \'es, they have. 
 Iiear. By Jupiter, I swear, no. 
 Kent. 15y Juno, I swear, ay. 
 Lear. They durst not do't ; [murder, 
 
 They could not, would not do't ; 'tis worse thaa 
 To do upon respect such violent outrage : 
 Resolve me, with all modest haste, wliicii way 
 Tlioii might'st deserve, or tliey impose, this us;ige 
 Cottiimj from us. 
 
 Kent. My lord, when at their homa 
 
 I did commend your highness' letters to them. 
 Ere I was risen from the place that shew'd 
 My duty kneeling', came there a reeking post, 
 Stew'd in liis haste, half breathless, panting forth 
 From Goneril his mistress, salutations ; 
 Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 
 Which presently they read : on whose contents, 
 They siimrano'd up their nieiuy, straight took horse ; 
 Comtnande.d me to follow, and attend 
 The leisure of Lheir answer; gave me cold looks : 
 And meetiiig here the other messenger, 
 W^hose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine, 
 (Being the very fellow that of late 
 Display'd so saucily against your highness,) 
 Having more man than wit about me, drew ; 
 He rais'd the house with lond and coward cries : 
 Your son and daughter found this trespass worth 
 The shame which here it suffers. 
 
 Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese 
 fly that way. 
 Fathers, that wear rags, 
 Do make their children blind ; 
 But fathers, that bear bags, 
 Shall see their children kind. 
 Fortune, that arrant whore, 
 Ne'er turns the key to the poor. — 
 But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours 
 for thy daughters, as thsu canst tell in a year. 
 Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my 
 /heart! _ 
 Hysterica passio ! — down, thou climbing sorrow, 
 Thv element's below ! Where is this daughter ' 
 Kent. With the earl, sir, here within. 
 Lear. Follow me not : 
 
 Stay iiere. [Exit. 
 
 Hunt. Made you no more offence than what you 
 
 speak of ^ 
 Kent, None. 
 How chance the king comes with so small a train? 
 Fool. An tiiou hadst been set i'the stocks for 
 that question, thou hadst well deserved it. 
 Kent. Why, fool'? 
 
 Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach 
 thee there's no labouring in the winter. All, that 
 follow their noses, are led by their eyes, but blind 
 men; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can 
 smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold, when 
 a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy 
 neck, with follQwing it ; but the great one that goes 
 
 up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise 
 man gives thee better counsel, give r.e mine again : 
 I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool 
 gives it. 
 
 That, sir, whi",h ser\es and seeks for gain. 
 
 And follows hut for form. 
 Will pack, when it begins to rain. 
 
 And leave thee in the storm. 
 But I will tarry; the fcol will stay. 
 
 And let the wine man fly: 
 The knave turns fool, tiiat runs away J 
 'itie fool no kna\e, perdy. 
 Kent Where learn'd you this, fool ? 
 Fool. Not i'the stocks, fool. 
 
 Re-enter Lear ivith Gloster. 
 
 Lear. Deny to speak with me 'i Tliey are sick ? 
 they are weary ? 
 They have travell'd hard tonight? Mere fetches; 
 The images of revolt and Hying off! 
 Fetrh me a better answer. 
 
 Qlo. My dear lord. 
 
 You know the fierj' quality of the duke ; 
 How unremoveable and fix'd he is 
 Li his own course. 
 
 Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion I 
 Fiery ! what quality '? Why, Gloster, Gloster, 
 I'd speak vvitji the duke of Cornwall, and his wife 
 
 Olo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them 
 so. (man 'f. 
 
 Lear. Inform'd them ! Dost thou understand me, 
 
 (ilo. Ay, mv good lord. 
 
 Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the 
 dear father 
 Would with his daughter speak, commands her 
 service : [blood ! — 
 
 Are they infoim'd of this? ?t'Iy breath and 
 
 Fiery? tne fiery duke ? — Tell the hot duke, that — 
 No, but not yet : — may be, he is not well ; 
 Infirmity doth still neglect all office. 
 Whereto our health is bound ; we are not our- 
 selves, [miiid 
 When nat:ire, being oppress'd, commnnils the 
 To suffer with the body : I'll forbear: 
 And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
 To take the indispos'd and sickly fit 
 For the sound man. — Death on my state ! where- 
 fore {Loohinij on Kent.] 
 Should lie sit here ? This act persuades me. 
 That this remotion of the duke and her 
 Is practice only. Give me my servant fortli: 
 Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them. 
 Now, presently ; bid them come forth and hear me. 
 Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum. 
 Till it cry — Sleep to death, 
 
 Qlo. I'd have all well betwixt yon. [Exit. 
 
 Lear. O me, my heart, ray rising heart! — but, 
 down. 
 
 Fool. Cry to if, nuncle, as the cockney did to 
 the eels, when she put them i'the paste alive ; she 
 rapp'd 'em o'the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd^ 
 Down, wantons, down: 'Twas her brother, that, in 
 pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay. 
 
 Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Lear. Good morrow to you both. 
 Com. Hail to your grace I 
 
 {Kent is set at liberty.) 
 Reg. I am glad to see your highness. 
 Lear, Regan, I think you are j I know whtt 
 reason 
 I have to think so: if thou should'st not be glad, 
 I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 
 Sepulch'ring an adultress. — O, are you free ? 
 
 {To Kent.) 
 Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, 
 Thy sister's naught : O Regan, she hath tied 
 Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here,— 
 
 {Points to his heart,) 
 
704 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 I r.m scaroe speak to thee ; thoii'lt not believe, 
 Of liow (lepiav'd a qualify. — O Regan ! 
 
 Reg. I pray yon, sir, take patience ; I have hope. 
 You less know how to value her desert, 
 Tiian she to scant her duty. 
 
 Lear. »Say, how is that? 
 
 Ken. [ cannot think, my sister in the least 
 Would fail lier obiis;ation : If, sir, perchance, 
 She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, 
 Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 
 As clears her from all blame. 
 
 hear. My curses on her ! 
 
 Rey. O, sir, you are old ; 
 
 Nature in yon stands on the very ver;,'e 
 Of her coTiline: yo'i should be rulVl, and led 
 By some discretion, that discerns your state 
 Better than you yourself: Tht-relore, I pray you. 
 That to our sister you do make return ; 
 Sav. you have wrongVl her, sir. 
 
 Jjear. Ask her lorsiveness : 
 
 Do you but mark how this hecorm-s the house : 
 Dear daughter, I confess thai I am old: 
 
 Age is unnecessary: on my hnees Ifjeg, {Kneeling-) 
 
 ent. bed. and food. 
 these e 
 
 'i/iat you'll vouchsafe me raim 
 
 Reg. Good sir, no more ; these are unsiglitly 
 Return you to niy sister. [tricks: 
 
 Lear. Never, Regan ; 
 
 She hath abated me of half my train; 
 Lnok'd black upon ine ; struck me with her tongue, 
 Most serpent like, upon the very heart. — 
 All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fill 
 On her ingratefnl top! Strike her young bones. 
 Von taking airs, with lameness! 
 
 Corn. Fy. fy, fy! 
 
 Lear. Yon nimble lightnings, dart your blinding 
 flames 
 Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty, 
 You fen-siick'd fogs, drawn by the povverfid sun, 
 To fall and blast her pride ! 
 
 Reg. O the blest gods! 
 
 So will you wish on me, when tlie rash mood's on. 
 Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my 
 curse ; 
 Thy tender-hefted nature shall not gi\ e 
 Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but 
 
 thine 
 Do comf;)rt, and not burn: 'Tis not in thee 
 To grudi^e my pleasures, to cat oH' my train. 
 To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 
 And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 
 Against my coming in : thou better know'st 
 The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 
 Efl'ects of courtesy dues of gratitude; 
 Thy half o'the kingdom hast thou not forgot, 
 VViierein I thee endow'd. 
 
 Reg. Good sir, to the purpose. 
 
 ( Trumpets tvithin.) 
 Lear. Who put my man i'the stocks? 
 Corn. What trumpet's that? 
 
 Enter Steivard. 
 Reg. I know't, my sister's : this approves her 
 letter. 
 That she would soon be here. — Is your lady come? 
 Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-bnrrow'd pride 
 Dwel's in the fickle grace <)f her he follows: — 
 Out, varlet, from my sight! 
 
 Corn. What means your grace ? 
 
 Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I have 
 
 good hope [heavens, 
 
 I'iiou didst not know oft. — Who comes here ? O, 
 
 Enter Goneril. 
 
 If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
 
 Allow obedience, if yourselves are old. 
 
 Make it your cause ; send down, and fake my 
 
 part! — 
 Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ? — 
 
 [To Goneril.) 
 O Regan, wilt thou take her by tlie hand ? 
 
 Gon. why not by the hand, sir? liow have 1 
 oft'ended ? 
 All's not otl'ence, but indiscretion finds. 
 And dotage terms so 
 
 Lear. O, sides, yon are too tough! 
 
 Will you yet hold ? — How came my man i'the stocks ? 
 Cortt. I set liim there, sir: but his o\m disorders 
 Deserv'd nuich less advancement. 
 Lear. You! did you? 
 
 Reg. I pray yon, futher, being weak, seem so, 
 [f. till the expiration of yonr month. 
 Yon will return and sojourn with my sister, 
 Dlsuiissing half your train, come then to me ; 
 [ am now from home, and out of that provision. 
 Which shall be needful for your entertainment, 
 
 Lear. Return to her, and fiity men dismisi'd? 
 No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 
 To w age against the enmity o'the air ; 
 To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, — 
 Necessity's sharp pinch ! — Return with her? 
 \Vli\«, the hot-blooded France, that dowerleas took 
 O.ir youngest born, I could as well be brought 
 To kne.^ his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg 
 To keep base liiii a-foot : — Return with her? 
 Pers;ui(te me rather to be slave and simipter 
 'I'o this detested groom. [Looking on the Sleiurird,) 
 Gon. At your choice, sir. 
 
 Lear. I pr'ythee, (laughter, do not make m ■ mad' 
 I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell; 
 We'll no more meet, no more see one anotlier;^ 
 But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my dang ;ter , 
 Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh. 
 Which I must needs call mine : thou art a boi , 
 A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle. 
 In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide tie; 
 Let shame come when it will, I do not call i : 
 I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 
 Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : 
 Mend when thou canst ; be better, at thy leisure : 
 1 can be patient; I can stay with Regan, 
 [, and my hundred knights. 
 
 Rfg. Not altogether so, <ir; 
 
 I hwik'd not for yon yet, nor am provided 
 For )'our fit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister, 
 For tiiose that mingle reason with your passioo, 
 Must be content to think vou old, and so — 
 But she knows what she 3oes. 
 
 Lear. Is this well spoke i iiiw ? 
 
 Reg. I dare avouch it, sir: What, fifty foil > ^ • rs ? 
 Is it not well? What should yon need of m ) - ;" 
 Yea, or so many ? sith that both charge an I il iiii;e 
 Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one House 
 Should many people, under two commands, 
 Hold amity? tis hard; almost impossible. 
 
 Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive iit< n- 
 dance 
 From those that she calls servp_nts, or from uiiit- ? 
 Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chauc'd to 
 slack you. 
 We could control them : If you will come to me 
 (For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you 
 To bring but five-and twenty; to no more 
 Will I give place, or notice. 
 Lear. I gave you all — 
 
 Reg. And in good time you :;ave it« 
 
 Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 
 But Kept a reservation to be follow'd 
 With such a number : What, must I come to you 
 With fi\e-and-twenty, Regan? said you so? 
 
 Reg. And speak it again, my lord : no more 
 
 with me. 
 Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look weil- 
 favour'd, 
 When others are more wicked ; not being 'he worst, 
 Stands in some rank of praise: — I'll go wi ii Ihee:^ 
 
 ( To 'Jonerit.) 
 Thy fifty yet doth double five-aud-twenty. 
 And thou art twice her love. 
 
 Gon. Hear me, my lord J 
 
 What need you five-andtwenty. It n, or five. 
 
Act III. Scene 2. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 705 
 
 To follow in a house, where twice so many 
 Have a cominaad to tend you :" 
 jReg. What need one? 
 
 Jjtar. O, reason not the need : our basest beggars 
 Are in the poorest thing superfluous : 
 Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
 Man's life is cheap as beast's : thou art a lady ; 
 If only to go warm were gorgeous, 
 Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st. 
 Which scarcely keeps thee warm. — But, for true 
 
 need, — 
 Vou heavens, give me that patience, patience I need ! 
 You see ine here, you gods, a poor old man, 
 As full of grief, as age; wretched in both '. 
 It it be you, that stir these daughters' hearts 
 Against their father, fool me not m> much 
 'I'o bear it tamely ; touch me witli nolile anger ! 
 O, let not ucmen's weapons, water-drops, 
 Stain my man's cheeks! — No, you unnatural hags, 
 I will have such revenges on you both, 
 That all the world shall — f will do such things, — 
 What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be 
 The terrors of the earth. Vou think, I'll weep; 
 No, I'll not weep: — 
 
 I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
 Shall break into a hundred ti'ousand flaws. 
 Or ere I'll weep : — O, tool, 1 shall go mad ! 
 
 [Exeunt Lenr, Gloster. Kent, and Fool. 
 Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. 
 
 [Storm heard at a distance.) 
 Reg. This house 
 
 Is little ; the old man and his people cannot 
 Be well bestow'd. 
 
 Gon. 'Tis his own blame ; he hath put 
 
 Himself from rest, and must needs tiste his folly. 
 
 Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, 
 But not one follower. 
 
 Gon, So am I pnrpos'd. 
 
 Where is my lord of Gloster ? 
 
 Re-enter Gloster. 
 
 Corn. Follow'd the old man forth : — he is return'd. 
 
 Glo. Tlie king is in high rage. 
 
 Corn. Whither is he going? 
 
 Glo. He calls to horse; but will I know not 
 whither. [self. 
 
 Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads him- 
 
 Go7i. I\ly lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 
 
 Glo. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds 
 Do sorely ruffle ; for many miles about 
 There's scarce a bush. 
 
 Reg. O, sir, to wilful men. 
 
 The injuries, that they themselves procure. 
 Must be their schoolmasters; Shut up your doors; 
 He is attended with a desperate train; 
 And what they may incense him to, being apt 
 To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. 
 
 Corn. Shut up your doors, ray lord; 'tis a wild 
 night; 
 My Regan counsels well : come out o'the storm. 
 
 [Exeurit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I.— ^4 Heath. 
 
 A storm is heard, with thunder and lightning. 
 Entsr Kent and a Gentleman, meeting. 
 Kent. Who's here, beside foul weather :" 
 Gent. One minded like the weather, most un- 
 
 qnietly. 
 Kent. I know yon ; where's the king' 
 Gent. Contending with the fretful- element : 
 Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
 Or swell the curved waters bove the main, 
 That things might change, or cease ; tears his white 
 
 hair; 
 Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage. 
 Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
 Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
 The to and fro-conflicting wind and raiu. 
 
 This night, wherein the cub-drawn be?' wooii 
 
 couch. 
 The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
 Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs 
 And bids what will take all. 
 
 ^^"f'xT , , r B'"tHi" iswithhira? 
 yent. None but the fool ; who labours ta outiesl 
 His heart struck injuries. 
 
 Kent. Sir, I do know you ; 
 
 And dare, upon the warrant of my art, 
 Commend a dear thing to you. 'i'here is division 
 Although as yet the face of it be cover'd ' 
 
 \Vith mutual cunning, 'Iwixt Albany and Cornwall- 
 \y'ho have (as who li.ive not, that their great stars' 
 Thron'd and set high ?j servants who seem no less- 
 Which are to France the .«pies and speculations ' 
 Intelligent of our state ; what hath been seen, 
 Either in snii/l's and parkings of the dukes ; 
 Or the hard rein which both of them have borne 
 Agamst the old kind king ; or something deeper 
 VVhereol, perchance, these are bat furnishings-— 
 hut, true It IS, from France there comes a power 
 Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already 
 Wise in our negligence, have secret feet ' 
 In some of our best ports, and are at point 
 lo shew their open banner.— Now to you • 
 If on my credit you dare build so far 
 To make yonr speed to Dover, you shall find 
 Sonie that will thank you, making just report 
 Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
 The king hath cause to 'plain. 
 I am a gentleman of Wood and breeding ; 
 
 r^,".*^» '^^,?'" *°'"<^ knowledge and assurance, offer 
 1 Ins ofnce to you. 
 
 Gent. I will talk further with you. 
 
 r ^^"\ r .u .r , No, do not 
 
 I' or confirmation that I am much more 
 
 Than my out-M'all, open this purse, and fake 
 
 What It contains: If you shall see Cordelia 
 
 (As fear not but yoc shall,) shew her this ring- 
 
 And she will tell you who yonr fellow is, ' 
 
 That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm ' 
 
 1 will go seek the king. [say? 
 
 Gent Give nie your hand : Have you no more to 
 
 Kent, tew words, but, to effect, more than all 
 
 That when we have found tiie king, (in which you" 
 I hat way ; I II this ;) he that first lights on hiin, 
 Holla the other. [Exeunt severally.) 
 
 Scene II.— Another part of the Heath. Storm 
 continues. 
 
 Enter Lear and Fool. 
 
 Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks ! rage! 
 blow ! 
 You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 
 'I'ill you ha\e drench'd our steeples, drown'd the 
 
 cocks ! 
 You sulphurous and thought-executing fires. 
 Vaunt couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts, 
 Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder. 
 Strike flat the thick rotundity o'the world ! 
 Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once. 
 That make ingrateful man ! 
 
 Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry honse is 
 better than this rain-wafer out o'door. Good n\incle. 
 in. and ask thy daughter's blessing; here's a night 
 pities neither wise men nor fiols. 
 
 Lear. Rumble thy belly-full ! Spit, fire ! spout, rain! 
 Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: 
 I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, 
 I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, 
 You owe me no subscription ; why then let fall 
 Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave, 
 A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man: — 
 But yet I call you servile ministers 
 That ha'e with two pernicious daughters join'd 
 Your high-engender'd battles 'gai.ist a head 
 So old and white as this. O! O ! 'tis fiiiil ! 
 
YOG 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Font. He. that has a house to put his head in, has 
 a good head piece. 
 
 'i/je cod-piece that ivill house. 
 
 Before the head hnx any. 
 The head and he shall louse!— 
 
 So beijrjars marry many. 
 
 'The man that makes his toe 
 
 What he his heart should make. 
 
 Shall of a corn cry ivue. 
 And turn his sleep to tuake. 
 
 —for there was never yet fair ^vo!Tlan, but she made 
 mouth in a glass. 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I 
 will Stty notliins:. 
 
 Kent. Who's tliere ? 
 
 Fool. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece; that's 
 wise man, and a fool. _ [night, 
 
 Kent. Alas, sir, are you here ? things, that love 
 Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies 
 (Jailow the very wanderers of the dark. 
 And make them keep their caves : Since I was man, 
 Such sheets of tire, such bursts of liorrid tiiuuder. 
 Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
 Renipuiberto have heard : man's nature cannot carry 
 Tiie affliction, nor the fear. 
 
 Lear. Let the great gods, 
 
 Tliat keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, 
 Find out tiieir enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 
 That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
 Uuwiiipp'd of justice : hide thee, thou bloody hand ; 
 Thou perjurd, and tliou simular man of virtue, 
 Tiiat art incestuous : Caitiff, to ])ieces shake, 
 That under covert and convenient seeming 
 Hast practis'd on man's life :— Close pent-up guilts, 
 Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
 Tliese dreadful suminoners grace.— I am a man. 
 More sinn'd against, than sinning. 
 
 Kent. Alack, bare-headed! 
 
 Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; 
 Some friendship will it lend yon |gainst the tempest; j 
 Repose you there : while I to this hard house, 
 (More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis rais'd ; 
 Which even but now. demanding after you, 
 Denied me to come in,) return, and force 
 Their scanted courtesy. 
 
 IjP.ar. My wits begin to turn. — 
 
 Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy '/ Art cold? 
 I am cold myself — Where is this straw, my I'eliovv''' 
 The art of our necessities is strange, [hovel. 
 
 That can make vile things precious. Come, your 
 Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart 
 That's sorry yet for thee. 
 
 Fool. He that has a little tiny wit, — 
 
 With heiyh, ho. the wind and the rain, — 
 Must make content with Ids fortunes fit ; 
 For the rain it raineth every day. 
 Lear. True, my good boy.— Come, bring us to 
 this hovel. [Exeunt Lear and Kent. 
 
 Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.— 
 I'll speak a prophecy ere I go : 
 
 When priests are more in word than. matter; 
 When brewers mar their malt with water; 
 When nobles are their tailors' tutors ; 
 No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors: 
 When every case in law is right; 
 No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; 
 When slanders do not live in tongues ; 
 Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ; 
 When usurers tell their gold i'tlie field ; 
 And bawds and whores do churches build ; — 
 Tiien ^hall the realm of Albion 
 Come to great confusion. 
 Then comes the time, who lives to see't. 
 That going shall be us'd with feet. 
 This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before 
 I'lis tiuie. [FlxiU 
 
 Scene III. — A Room in Glosters Castle. 
 
 Enter Glo.ster and Ed*3UND. 
 
 Glo. Alack, alack, Edmund, 1 like not this nn- 
 natural dealing : When 1 desired their leave that I 
 nnght pity liim, they took from me the useof'tiiine 
 own house ; chrtrged me, on pain of tlieir perpetual 
 displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for 
 him. nor any way sustain him. 
 
 Ednt. Most savage and unnatural ! 
 Qlo. (Jo to; say you nothing : There i.s division 
 between the dukes; and a worse matter than that: 
 1 ha\e received a letter this night: — 'tis dangerous 
 to be spoken; — 1 have locked the letter in my clo- 
 set : these injuries the king now bears will be re- 
 venged athome ; alheie is part of a power already 
 tooted : we must incline to the king. I will seek 
 liiui, and privily relieve him : go you^ and maintain 
 talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him 
 perceived : If he ask ibr nie, 1 am ill, and gone to 
 bed. II I die for it, as no less is threatened me, 
 the king, my old master, must be relieved. There 
 is some strange thing toward, Edmund ; pray you, 
 be careful. [Exit. 
 
 Edin. 'I'his courtesy forbid thee, ghall the diike 
 Instantly know; and of that letter too : — 
 'I'liis seems a fair deserving, and umst draw me 
 'I'hat whi'-h my father loses; no less than all : 
 'i'he younger rises, when the old doth tall. [Exit 
 
 Scene lY.—A part of the Heath, vjitli a Hovel. 
 Enter Le.\R, Kjsnt, and Fool, 
 Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good my lord 
 enter : 
 The tyranny of the open night's too rough. 
 For nature to endure. [Storm still. 
 
 Lear. Let me alone. 
 
 Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
 Jjear. Wilt break my heart? 
 
 Kent. I'd rather break mine own : Good my lord, 
 enter. [t;ious storta 
 
 Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, tiiat tliis couten- 
 Invades ns to the skin : so 'tis to thee ; 
 But where the greater malady is fix'd. 
 The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear: 
 But if thy llight lay toward tlie raging sea. 
 Thou'dst meet the bear i'the mouth. When the 
 nnind's free, ^ 
 
 The body's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
 Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
 Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude ! 
 Is it not as this month should tear tliis hand, 
 For lilting I'ood to't? — But I will piinisii home : — 
 No, 1 will weep no more. — In such a night 
 To shut me out! — Pour on ; I will endure : — 
 In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril ! 
 Your old kind father, whose frtnk heart gav'e all, — 
 O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; 
 No more oi' that, — 
 
 Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
 
 Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own 
 ease ; 
 This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
 On things would hurt me more — But I'll go in : 
 In, boy; go first. — [To the Fool.) You houseless 
 
 poverty, — 
 Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. 
 
 [Fool goes in.,' 
 Poor naked wretches, wheresoe're you are, 
 That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. 
 How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sid.-s, 
 Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
 From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en 
 Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; 
 Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ; 
 That thou may'st shake the snperflux to them. 
 And shew the heavens more just. . . , . 
 
 Edg. [Within.) Fathom and half, fathom and 
 half! Poor Tom! 
 
 [The Fool runs out from the hovtl.) 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 707 
 
 Fool. Come not in hf>-e, D-ocle, here's a spirit. 
 Helt> me, help tne ! 
 
 Kent. Gi\e iiie tliy hand. — Who's there? 
 
 F'eoL A spirit, a spirit ; he says Ir.is name's poor 
 Tom. [i'tlie straw? 
 
 Kanf. What art tlioii that dost griiinble there 
 f^onie fortii. 
 
 Enter Edgar, disgtiised as a madman. 
 EJff. Away! the foul fiend follows me! — 
 Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. — 
 Humph! R-o to thv cold bed, and warm thee. 
 
 Lear. Hast thi'm pveti all to thy two daughters ^ 
 And ait thou come to this ? 
 
 Edf/. WHio gi\esany tiiiuc: to poor Tom ? whom 
 fhe (OMJ fienil liafh le'd throiij^h fire and through 
 flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bojr and 
 quajrmlre: that hath laid knives nndei his iiillnw, 
 and halters in his pew ; set ratsha.ie by his poi ridge ; 
 made him proud of heart, to ride on a liay trotting- 
 iiorse over four inched brnhces, to course his own 
 shadow for a traitor: — FJIpss tliy fi\e wits! Tom's 
 a-cold. — O, do de, do de, do de. — Bless thee from 
 whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor 
 Tom some charity, whom the fold fiend vexes ; 
 There could^I have him new, — and there, — and 
 there, — and there again, and there. 
 
 {Storm contimtes.) 
 Lear. What, have his daughters brouglit him to 
 this pass ? — [all ? 
 
 Conld"st thon save nothing? Did'st thou give them 
 Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had 
 been all shamed. [air 
 
 Lear. Now, all the plagues, that in the pendulous 
 Hang fated o'er men's faults, liglit on thy rlaughters! 
 Kent. He hath no daugnters, sir. 
 Lear. .Heath, traitor! nothing could have snbdu'd 
 natine 
 To such a lowness, but his unkind daugiiiers. — 
 Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
 Should ha\e thus little mercy on their flesh ? 
 Judicious punisiunHnt! 'twas this fjesh begot 
 Tliosp pelican daushfers. 
 
 Edij. Fillicock sat on pilh'cQck's-hill; — 
 Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! 
 
 Fool. This cold night will turn ns all to fools and 
 mad uen. 
 
 Ed'j. Take heed o'the foul fiend : Obey thy pa- 
 rents; keep thy word justly ; swear not; commit 
 not with man's sworn spouse ; set not thy sweet 
 heart on proud array : Tom's a cold. 
 Laar. What luist thon been ''. 
 Edfj. A serving-man, pnmd in heart and mind ; 
 that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap, served 
 the lust of my mistress's heart, and ilid the act of 
 darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake 
 words, and broke them in the sweet face of hea\en: 
 one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked 
 to do it : Wine loved I deeply ; dice dearly ; and in 
 woman, out-paramoined fh^ Turk: False of heart, , 
 light of^ ear, idoody of hand ; Hog in sloth, fox in 
 stealth, "volf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in 
 prev. Let not the creak. ng of shoes, nor the rustling 
 of sdks, betray thy poor heart to women . Keep thy 
 fool out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy 
 pen fMm lenders' books and defy the foul fiend. — 
 Ofdl through the hawthorn blows the cold wind : 
 Says suuni man, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my 
 boy, sessa ; let him trot by. 
 
 [Storm still continues.) 
 Lear. Wliv, thon were better in thy grave, than 
 to answer wifli thy uncovi-red body this extremity 
 of the skies — Is man no more than this? Consider 
 him wh|1 : Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast 
 no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume : — 
 Ha! here's thiee of us are sophisticated ! Thou art 
 the thing itself' uimccimimodated man is no moie 
 but ,ich a poor, bare, fork'd animal as thou art. — 
 OH", off, yfr* lendmgs : — Co-iie; mihntton lure. — 
 [Teariny iiff his clot/ifs.) 
 
 Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented ; this in a 
 naughty night to swim in. — Now a little fire in a wild 
 field were like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, 
 all the rest of his body cold. — Look, here comes a 
 walking fire. 
 
 Edn- 'I'his is the foul fieod Flibbertigibbet ; he 
 begins at curfew, and walks till the first c )ck • he 
 ^Uea the web and the pin, .squints the eye, 'and 
 makes the hare-lip; mildews the white wheat' and 
 liurts the poor creature of earth. 
 
 Saint Wil/iold footed thrice the wohl; 
 He wet the vi<j/it-mare, and her nine-fold ; 
 Bid her a/ir/ht. 
 And her troth pliuht, 
 And <troint thee, witch, arointlhea'. 
 Kettt. How fares your g'ace ? 
 
 Enter Glostfr, •vjith a Torch. 
 Lear. What's he ? 
 
 Kent. U'ho's there? What is't you seek ? 
 <i7o. W'hat are you there ? Vour names ? 
 Ed(j. Poor Tom; that eats the swimmmgfrog, thi, 
 toad, tlie tadpole, the wall-newt, and the wafer; 
 that in the (iiry of his heart, when the foid fiend' 
 rages, eats cowdung for sallets; swallows the old 
 rat, and the dit h-dog; drw.ks the green mantle of 
 the standnig pool ; wlio is whipped from tythiug to 
 tything, and stocked, pnni.shed, and imprisoned- 
 who iiath had three suits to his back, six shirts to 
 
 his body, hors.- to ride, and weapon to wear. 
 
 Bid mice, and rats, and such small deer, 
 Have been Tom's food for seven lony year. 
 Beware my follower : — Peace, Smolkm ; peace, 
 thou fiend ! 
 ^/o. What, hath your grace no better company ? 
 Ed'j. The prince of darkness is a gentleman; 
 Alodo he's callrd, and Mahu. fvile 
 
 Glo. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so 
 i hat It d(Uh hale what gets it. 
 Edy. Poor Tom's a-colfl. 
 Glu. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suffer 
 To obey in all your daughters' liard commands : 
 'i'inuigh their injunction be to bar my doors. 
 And let th.s tyrannous night take liold upon you ; 
 \ et have I ventur'd to come seek yo^j out, 
 And bring you where both fire and lood is ready. 
 Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher ;- 
 Wliiit is the cause of tliunder? 
 Kent. Good my lord, take hisolfer; 
 
 Go into the house. [Theban ; 
 
 Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned 
 Wtiat IS your study ? 
 Ed;/. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. 
 Lear Let me ask you f^iie word in private. 
 Kent. Importune tiim once more to go, my lord. 
 His wits begin to unsettle. 
 
 ('^o. Can'st thou blame him? 
 
 His daughters seek his -death: — Ah, that good 
 
 Kent!— *' 
 
 He said it would be thus :— Poor banish'd man! — 
 'J'hou say'.st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, 
 
 friend, 
 I am almost mad myself: I had a son. 
 Now onllaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, 
 But lately, very late ; I lov'd him, friend, — 
 No father his son dearer: true to till thee, 
 
 {Storm (untinuet.) 
 The grief hath ciaz'd my wits. What a night'.s 
 
 this ! 
 I do beseech your grace,— 
 
 kt'^^"'^*. 1 I ^' *^''y y°° mercy, 
 
 Noble philosopher, your company. 
 
 Edy. Tom's a-cold [warm. 
 
 Glo. In, fellow, there, to the hovel : keep tliee 
 
 Lear. Come, let's in all. 
 
 Kent. This way, my lortl. 
 
 ^ i^^""-. With him; 
 
 I wdl keep still with my philosopher. 
 
 Kent. (Jo id my lord, sooth him ; let him take the 
 fellow. 
 
708 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act in. 
 
 (f/o. 'I'ake nun you on. 
 
 Kant. Siriah, come on ; go along with us. 
 
 i,*ar. Come, good Atheuian. 
 
 iilo. No words, no woids : 
 
 fi(^.(j. Child Rowland to the dark tower came. 
 His word was still, — Fie, fvh, and fum, 
 L smell the blood of a British man. [Exeunt. 
 
 SiENE V. — A Room in Gloster's Castle. 
 
 Enter Cornwall and Edmund. 
 
 Corn. I will have my revenge, ere I depart his 
 house. 
 
 Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that 
 nature thus gives way to loyalty, souiethini^ lears nie 
 to tliiuk of. 
 
 Corn. I now perceive, it was not altii£cetlier your 
 brother's evil dispasition made iiiui seek his death; 
 but a provoking merit, sit a work by a reprovtable 
 badness in hi.nself. 
 
 Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must 
 repent to be just ! 'I'liis is the letter he spoke ofj 
 Wiiich appro\es him an intelligent party to the 
 ndvautagesof Fratice. O heavens! that tliis treason 
 were not, br not I the detector ! 
 
 Corn. Go with me to the duchess. 
 
 Edtn. If the matter of this paper he certain, you 
 ■have mighty business in hand. 
 
 Corn. True, or false, it hath made thee earl of 
 Gloster. Seek out where thy father is, that he may 
 be rtady for our apprehension. 
 
 Edm. (Aside.) If I find him comfoiting the king, 
 it will stutl'iiis suspicion more fully. — I will perse- 
 vere in rny course of loyalty, though the conflict.be 
 sore between that and my blood. 
 
 Corn. I will lay trust upo'i ihee; and thou shalt 
 find a dearer father in my love. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI.— vl Chamber in a Farni-House, 
 adjoiniiiQ^tlie Castle. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar. 
 Olo. Here is better than the oi*en air ; take it 
 thankfully' I will fiiei^ out the couifort with what 
 addition I can: I will not be long Ironi you. 
 
 Kent. All tlie power of his wits has given way to 
 his impatience : — The gods reward yc iir kindness I 
 
 [Exit Gloster. 
 Edff. Frateretto calls me . and tells me, Nero is 
 an angler in tlie lake of darkness. Piay, muocent, 
 and beware the foul tiend. 
 
 Fool. Pr'ythee, nunde, tell me, whether a mad- 
 ihan be a gentleman, or a yeoman ;' 
 Lear. .\ king, a king ! 
 
 Fool. No ; he's a yeoman, that has a gentleman 
 to his son : for he's a mad yeoman, that sees his son 
 a gentleman before him. 
 
 Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits 
 come hizzing in upon lliem: — 
 Edr/. The tiiul fiend bites my back. 
 Fool. He's mad. th«t trusts in tiie tameness of a 
 *volf, H horse's health, a buy'.s love, or a whore's 
 oath. 
 
 hear. It shall be done, I will arraign them 
 straight : — 
 Co'Be, sit thou here, most learned justicer ; — 
 
 (To Edgar.) 
 Thou, sapient sir, sit here. (To the Fool.) — 5fow, 
 you she foxes I — 
 f'diy. Look, where he stands and glares! — 
 VVantest thou eyes at trial, madam ■* 
 
 Come o'er the bourn. Bessi/, to me : — 
 Fool. Her boat halh a leak. 
 And she must not speak 
 Why she dares nut come over to thee, 
 FAt). I he loiil liii.l liaiiuts [K/or Tom in the voice 
 cf a oightiiigale. H >pdan<:e cries in I'oin's belly 
 for l-.vo wiiitp hei.uigs. Croak not, black angel; J 
 have BO food fir tner. 
 
 Kent. Ib)\v do \ou, >\t ? Stan»l you not so amaz'd : 
 Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? 
 Lear. I'll see their trial first : — Bring in the 
 evidence : — 
 Thou robed man of justice take thy place ; — 
 
 (ToEdr/ar.) 
 And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, (To the Fool.) 
 Bunch by his side: — You are of the commission. 
 Sit you too. [To Ketsi.) 
 
 Edo. Let ns deal justly. 
 
 Steepest, or icakest thou, jolly sheplierd? 
 
 Thy sheep be in the corn ; 
 And for one blast of thy tninikin mouth. 
 Thy sheep shall take no harm. 
 Pur ! the cat is grey. 
 
 Lear. Arriiigu her first; 'tis Goneril. I here taifl 
 my oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked 
 the poor king her lather. 
 
 Fool. Come hither, mistress; Is your name 
 Goneril? 
 
 Lear. She cannot deny it. 
 Fool. Cry you mercy, I took yon for a joint-stool, 
 Lear, And here's another, whose warp'd looks 
 proclaim 
 What store her heart is made of. — Stop her there! 
 Arms, arms, sword, fire ! — Corruption in the place ! 
 False justicer, vvhy hast thou let her 'scape ? 
 Edfj. Bless thy five wits ! 
 
 Kent. O pity ! — Sir, where is the patience now, 
 That you so oft have boasted to retain '? 
 
 Edg, My tears begin to take his part so much. 
 They'll mar my counteifeiting. (Aside.) 
 
 Lear. The little dogs and all, 
 Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see they bark at me, 
 Edg. Tom will throw his head at them: — A vaunt, 
 you chrs ! 
 
 Be thy mouth or black or white. 
 Tooth that poisons, if it bite ; 
 Mastif, grey-hound, mongrel grim. 
 Hound, or spaniel, br \ch, or lym ; 
 Orbotbail tike, or trtndle-tail ; 
 Tom will make them weep and wail: 
 For, with tlnowing thus my head, 
 Dogs leap the ha^ch, and ail sre fled. 
 Do de, de de. Sessa. Come, march to wakes and 
 fairs, and market towns : — Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. 
 Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan, see what 
 breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in na- 
 tm-e, that makes these hard hearts? — You. sir, I 
 entertain you for one of my hundred; only, I do not 
 like the fashion of your garments: you will say, they 
 are Persian attire ; but let them be chani;ed. 
 
 (To Edyar.) 
 Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and re>t 
 
 awhile. 
 Lear, Make no noise, make no noise ; draw the 
 curtains: So, so, so: We'll go to supper i' the 
 moniing: So, so, so. 
 
 Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. 
 
 Re-enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Come hither, friend : Where is the king, my 
 master ? [are gone. 
 
 Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits 
 
 Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in thy 
 arms ; 
 I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him : 
 There is a litter ready ; lay him in't. 
 And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt 
 
 meet 
 Both welcome and protection. Take np thy master : 
 if thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life. 
 With thine, and all tliat oft'er to defend him, 
 Stand ill assured loss : Take up, take up; 
 And follow me. that will to some provision 
 Give thee quick conduct. 
 
 Keyit. Oppress'd nature sleeps : — 
 
 This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken sense*. 
 Which, if convenience will not allow. 
 
Scene 7. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 709 
 
 Stand in I'.ard cure. — Come, help lo bi-ar thy master ; 
 'J'lioii must not stay behind. [To the fool.) 
 
 (rio. Come, conn-, iiway. 
 
 [Exeunt Kent Glosfer, and the Fool, 
 beariny vjftfte Kiny. 
 
 Edy. Wien we our bf tiers see bearing our woe.s. 
 We scarcely think om miseries our tiues. 
 Who alone sutiers, sutlers most i' the mind ; 
 Leaving free things, and ha py shews, beliind: 
 But then tiie iirinii much suB'erance doth oerskip, 
 When grief hath mate.s, and bearing filjowship. 
 How light and portable my pain seems now. 
 When that, which makes me bend, makes the king 
 
 bow \ 
 He childed, as I father'd !— Tom, away: 
 Mark the high noises ; and thyself bewray. 
 When lalse opinion, whose wrong thought defiles 
 
 thee, 
 [n thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. 
 What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king ! 
 Lurk, lurk. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. — A Room in Gloster's Castle. 
 
 Enter Cornwall, Reg.in, Goneril, Ehmund, 
 and Servants. 
 
 Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband ; 
 ehew him this letter : — the army of France is landed : 
 Seek out the villain Gloster. 
 
 [Exeunt some of the Servants. 
 
 Reg. Hang him instantly. 
 
 (inn. Pluck out his eyes. 
 
 Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, 
 kee ymi our sister company ; the revenges we are 
 bound til take ui.on your traitorous father, are not 
 fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where you 
 are gomg, to a must festinate preparation ; we are 
 bound lo the like. Our posts shall be swift, and intel- 
 ligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister; — farewell, 
 tny lord oi' Uloster. 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 How now f Where's the king? [hence : 
 
 Stew. My lord of Gloster hath cnnvey'd him 
 Some five or six and thirty of his knights, 
 Hot qiiestrists after him, met him at gate ; 
 Wild, with some other of the lord's dependants, 
 Are gone with him towards Dover ; where they 
 
 boast 
 To have well-armed friends. 
 
 Corn. Get horses for your mistress. 
 
 Gun. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 
 
 [Exeunt Goneril and Edmund. 
 Corn. Edmund, farewell. — Go, seek the traitor 
 Gloster, 
 Pinion hira like a thief, bring iiiin before us : 
 
 [Exeunt other Servants. 
 Thougi) well we niay not p;iss upon his lite 
 Without the form ot justice : yet our power 
 Siiall dii acourttsy to our wrath, wliich men 
 May blame, but not control. Who's there ? The 
 traitor ? 
 
 Re enter Servants, with Gloster. 
 
 Peg. Iiigiateful fox ! 'tis he. 
 
 Corn. Hmd last his corky arms. [consi ler 
 
 Glo. What ineaci your graces? — Good my liieiids, 
 Von are my guests : il nie no tnul play, triends. 
 
 C(>rn. Bind him, bsay. (Servants bind him.) 
 
 Bey. Hard, hiird :— O tiltny traitor! 
 
 Glo. Unmerciful lady as you an , I am none. 
 
 Com. To this chair bind lu'ii : — V'lllain, thou shalt 
 find — (R,''j(tTi iilucks his heard.) 
 
 Glo. By t:ie kind gorls, 'tis most ignobly done 
 To pliiik me by the beard. 
 
 i?er/ So white, and such a traitor! 
 
 Gto. Naughty lady, 
 
 I'hese hairs, which thou dost ravish from my cliiii, 
 Wiil qidfken, ami accuse thee ; I am your host; 
 Wi<.h robbers hands, my hospitable iiivours 
 
 You should not rufflf thus. What will yoii flo? 
 Corn. CVnie. sir, what letters liad you late frtun 
 
 France? 
 Reg. Be simple answer'd, for we know the triittu 
 Corn. And what confederacy haxe you with titt 
 traitors. 
 Late footed in the kingdom ? [kingf 
 
 Reg. To whose hands have you sent the Inuatio 
 Speak. 
 
 Glo. I have a letter guessingly set down, 
 Which came from one that's of a neutral heart. 
 And not from one oppos'd. 
 
 Corn. Cunning, 
 
 Reg. And false. 
 
 Com. Where iiast thou sent the king ? 
 Oio. To Dover. 
 
 Reg. Wherefors 
 
 To Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at thy peril, — 
 Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer 
 that. (course. 
 
 Glo. I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the 
 Reg. Wherefore to Dover ? 
 Glo. Because I would not see thy cruel nails 
 Pluck out his oorold eyes; nor thy fierce sister 
 Li his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. 
 The sea. with such a storm tis his bare head 
 In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd np, 
 And quench'd liie stelled fires: yet, poor old heart. 
 He holp the heavens lo rain, 
 if wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, 
 Thou shoiild'st have said. Good porter, turn the 
 
 key ; 
 All cruels else subscrib'd : — But I shall see 
 The winged vengance overtake such children. 
 Corn. See it shall thou never: — Fellows, hold 
 the chair: 
 Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot 
 
 {Gloster is held dotvn in his chair, while 
 Cornwall plucks out one of his eye*, 
 and sets his foot on it.) 
 Glo. He, that will think to live till he be old, 
 Give me some help : — O cruel ! O ye gods ! 
 
 Reg. One side will mock another; the other too. 
 Corn. If you see vengeance, — 
 Serv. Hold your hand, my lord: 
 
 I have serv'd you ever since I was a child : 
 But better service have I never done you, 
 'I'han now to bid you hold. 
 
 Reg. How now, you dog? 
 
 Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 
 I'd shake it on this quarrel : What do you mean ? 
 Corn. My v illain ! {Draws, and runs at him.) 
 Serv. Nay, then come on, and take the chance of 
 anger. 
 {Draws. They fight. Cornwall is wounded.) 
 Reg. Give me thy .sword. {To another Servant.) 
 A peasant stand up thus! 
 
 (Snatches a sxvord, comes behind, and 
 stabs him.) 
 Serv. O, I am slain I — My lord, you have one eye 
 left 
 To see some mischief on him: — O ! {Dies.) 
 
 Corn. Lest it see more, pre\entit: — Out, vile 
 jelly: 
 Where is thy lustre now : 
 
 ( Tears out Gloster's other eye, and ihrowe 
 it on the ground.) 
 Glo. .411 dark and comfortless. — Where's ray SOD 
 Edmund ? 
 Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature. 
 To quit this horrid act. 
 
 Reg Out, treacherous villaiaj 
 
 Thou call'ston him that hates tliee : it was he 
 Thfit made the overture of thy treasons io us; 
 Who is too good to pity thee. 
 
 Glo. O my follies! 
 
 Then Edgar was abus'd — 
 Kind gods, forgive me that, and [ rosper him! 
 
 Reg. Go, ttiriist him out at gates, and let him 
 smell 
 
710 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 His way to Dover. — How is't, my lord ? How look 
 yoii ? 
 Corn.l have receiv'd a hurt: — Follow me, lady. — 
 Turn out that eyeless villain ;— tlirow tiiis slave 
 Upon the dunghill.— Regan, I bleed apace : 
 tlntiinely comes this hurt : Gi\ e me your arm. 
 
 [iHxit Cornwall, let by Retjan ; — Servants 
 unbind Gloster, and lead liim out. 
 I Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I Ao, 
 If this man come to good. 
 
 1! S«TV. If she live long-, 
 
 And, in the end, meet tlie old course of death, 
 
 Women will all turn monsters. [Bedlam 
 
 1 Serv. Lefs follow tlie old earl, and get the 
 
 To lead him where he would ; his roguish madness 
 
 Allows itself to any thing. [nf eggs, 
 
 ''2 Serv. Go thou; I'll fetch some flax, and whites 
 
 To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help 
 
 him I [Exeutil severally. 
 
 AOT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The Heath. 
 
 Enter Edgar. 
 
 Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, 
 Than still contemn'd and Hatter'd. To be worst, 
 The lowest, and most dejected thing of fortune. 
 Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear ; 
 The lamentable change is from the best ; 
 The woist returns to laughter. Welcome, then, 
 Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace ! 
 The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the worst. 
 Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But v\ho comes 
 here i — 
 
 Enter Gloster, led by an Old Man. 
 
 My father, poorly led? — World, world, O world ! 
 But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee. 
 Life would not yield to age. 
 
 Old Man. O my good lord, I have been your 
 tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore 
 years. 
 
 Glo. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be gone ; 
 Thy comforts Can do me no good at all. 
 Thee they may hurt. 
 
 Old Man. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. 
 
 Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; 
 1 stumbled when 1 saw : Full oft 'tis seen. 
 Our mean secures us ; and our mere defects 
 Prove our commodities. — Ah, dear son Ldgar, 
 The food of thy abused father's wrath ! 
 Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 
 I'd sav, I had eyes again ! 
 
 Old Man. How now ! Who's there ? 
 
 Ed'j. ( Aside. ) O gods ! Who is't can say, / am 
 at the worst { 
 I am worse than e'er 1 was. 
 
 Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. 
 
 Ed<i. ( Aside ) And worse i may be yet ; 'J'he 
 worst is not. 
 So long as we can say. This is the tvorsl. 
 
 O'.d Man. Fellow, where goesti "/ 
 
 Glo. Is it a beggar-man ? 
 
 Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 
 
 Glo. He has sr.ine reason, else he could not beg. 
 I' tK« last night's storm I such a fellow saw ; 
 Which made me think a man a worm : My son 
 Caroe then into my mind ; and yet my mind 
 Was tlifU scarce friends with him : I have heard 
 
 more since : 
 As flies to wanton hoys, are we to the gods ; 
 They kill us for their sport. 
 
 Edg. How should this be ? — 
 
 Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow, 
 Ang'ring itself and otiiers. ( Aside. )— Bless thee, 
 master ! 
 
 Glo. Is that the naked fellow ? 
 
 Old Man. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Gh. 'I hf n, pr'ythee, get thee gone : If, for my .sake, 
 1 hou wilt o'ertake u.s, hence a mile or twain, 
 
 I'the way to t);ner, do it for ancient love ; 
 And bring some covering for this naked soul. 
 Whom I'll entreat to lead me. 
 
 Old Man. Alack, sir, he's mad. 
 
 Glo. 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead 
 the blind. 
 Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure ; 
 Above the rest, be gone. [have, 
 
 Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I 
 Come on't what will. [Exit, 
 
 Gin. Sirri'h, naked fellow. 
 
 Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. — I cannot daub it far- 
 ther. {Aside.) 
 
 Glo. Clime hither, fellow. 
 
 Edg. {A'iide.) And yet I must. — Bless thy sweet 
 eyes, they bleed. 
 
 Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover ? 
 
 Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot- 
 path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good 
 wits; Bless the good man I'rom the fuul fiend ! Five 
 fienils have been in poor Tom at once ; ol lust, as 
 Obidicut ; Hubbididance, prince of dumbness ; 
 Mahu, of stealnig ; Mudo, of murder ; and Flib- 
 bertigibbet, ot mopping and mowing ; who since 
 possesses chamber-maids and waiting-women. iSo, 
 bless thee, master ! [ven's plagues 
 
 Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the hea- 
 Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched, 
 Makes thee the happier : — Heavens, deal so still .' 
 Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, 
 That'slaves your ordinance, that will not see 
 Because he doth ni-t feel, feel your power tjuickly : 
 So distribution should undo excess, [ Dover : 
 
 And each man have enough. — Dost thou know 
 
 Edg. Ay, master. 
 
 Glo. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head 
 Looks fearfully in the contiued deep: 
 Bring me but to the very briui of it. 
 And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear, 
 With something rich about me : from that place 
 I shall no leading need. 
 
 Edg. Give me thy arm ; 
 
 Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Before the Duke of Albany's Palace. 
 
 Enter GoNERiL and Ed.mund; Steward meeting 
 them. 
 
 Gon. VVelcome, my lord : I marvel, onr mild 
 
 husband [master"? 
 
 Not met us on the way : — Now, where's your 
 
 Stew. Madam, within ; but never man so chang'd: 
 I told iiim of the army that was landed ; 
 He smild at it: 1 told him, you were coming; 
 His answer was, The worse : of Gloster's treachery. 
 And of the loyal service of his son, 
 When 1 inform'd hmi, then he call'd me sot; 
 And told me. 1 had turn'd the wrong side out : — 
 What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him : 
 What like, ofiiensive. 
 
 Gon. Then shall you go no farther. 
 
 [To Edmund.) 
 It is the cowish terror of his spirit, 
 That dares not undertake : he'll not feel wrongs. 
 Which tie him to an answer; Our wishes, on the 
 
 way, 
 May prove efli'ects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; 
 Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers: 
 I must change arms at home, and give tiie distaff 
 Into my liusband's hands. This trusty servant 
 Siiall pass between us : ere long you are like to hear, 
 If you dare venture in your own behalf, 
 A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech: 
 
 (Giving a favour.) 
 Decline your head : this kiss, if it durst speak, 
 Would stretch thy spirits up into the air ; — 
 Conceive, and fare thee well. 
 
 Edm. "iTours in the ranks of death. 
 
 Gon. My most dear (Jlosterl 
 
 [Ea-'i Editiund. 
 
SCEXE 8, 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 711 
 
 O, the difTerence of n>an, and man I To thee 
 /i woman's services ate due ; my fool 
 Usurps my bed. 
 
 Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Albany. 
 
 Gon. I have been worth the whistle. 
 
 Alb. O Goiieril ! 
 
 Vou a.'e not worth the dust, which the ruiie wind 
 iJlo>va in your face. — I fear your disposition : 
 'Ihal nature, which contemns its origin, 
 Ca.''Uot be border'd certain in itself; 
 She, that herself will sliver and disbranch 
 Fiom her material sap, perforce must wither. 
 And come to deadly nse. 
 
 Gon. No more ; the text is foolish. 
 
 Aib. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem \ile : 
 Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? 
 'I'igfrs, not dauyhti'rs, what have ymi peifomid i 
 A father, and a gracious aged mun. 
 W'h'»sp reverence the head lu-gi;'d bear would lick. 
 Most barbarous, most dcfjenerate ! have you madded. 
 Could my good brother sutler you to do it? 
 A man, a prince, liy him so benefited ;' 
 J i that the heavens do not their visible spirits 
 Send quickly down to tame these Mle oftciices, 
 "rwill come, 
 
 Humanity must perforce prey on itself, 
 Like monsters of the deep. 
 
 Gon. Milk-liver'd man ! 
 
 That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ; 
 Who hast not in tliy brows an eye discerning 
 Thine honour from thy suffering ; tiiat not know'st, 
 Fools do those villains pity, who are punish d 
 Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy 
 
 drum ? ' 
 
 France spieads his banners in our noiseless land; 
 With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; 
 Whilst thou, a moral fool, sifst still, and cry'st, 
 A lack '. ivhy does he so ! 
 
 Alb. See thyself, devil ! 
 
 Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 
 So horrid, as in woman. 
 
 Gon. O vain fool ! 
 
 Alb, Thoti changed and self-cover'd thing, for 
 shame, 
 Be-monster not thy feature. W'ere it my fitness 
 To let tijpse hands obey my blond, 
 'I'hey are apt enough to disloc;ite and tear 
 Thy flesaanTi bones; — Howe'er thou art a fiend, 
 A woman's shape doth shield thee. 
 
 Gon. Marry, your manhood now ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Alb. What news ? [dead ; 
 
 Aless O, my good lord, the duke of Cornwall's 
 .Slain by his servant, going to put out 
 The other eye of Gloster. 
 
 Alb. Gloster's eyes ! [morse. 
 
 Mess, A servant that he bred, thrill'd with re- 
 Oppos'il against the act, bending his sword 
 To his great master; who, thereat enrajj'd, 
 Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead: 
 But not without that harmful stroke, which since 
 Hath pluuk'd him after. 
 
 Alb. ■ This sliews you are above, 
 
 Vou justicers, that these our nether crimes 
 So speedily can venge 1 — liut, O poor Gloster ! 
 Lost he his other eye "/ 
 
 Mess. Both, both, my lord. — 
 
 This, letter, madam, craves a .speedy answer; 
 'Tis irom your sister. 
 
 Gon. [Aside.) One way [ like this well; 
 But be:n;,' uiilovv, and rny Gloster with her, 
 May all the building in n>y fancy pluck 
 Upon my hateful life: Another way. 
 The news is not so tart. — I'll lead and answer. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his 
 eyes ^ 
 
 Mess. Lome with my lady hither. 
 
 Alb. He is not here. 
 
 31ess. No, my good lord ; I met him back agaiu. 
 
 Aib. Knows he the wickedness'!' 
 
 Mess, Ay, my good lord ; 'twas he iutbrm'd 
 against him ; 
 And quit the house on purpose, that their punisbmeot 
 Might have the freer course. 
 
 Alb. Gloster, I live 
 
 To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the king, 
 And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend; 
 Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — T/ie French Camp, near itover. 
 Enter Kent and a Gentleman. 
 
 Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly 
 gone back know you tlie reason ? 
 
 Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state. 
 Which, since his coining forth, is thought of; which 
 Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, 
 Tiiat his personal leturn was most requir'd, 
 And necessary. 
 
 Kent. W'ho hath he left behind him general? 
 
 Gi'nt. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer, 
 
 Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any 
 demoiistratiou of glief';* [presence: 
 
 Gent. Ay, sir; she took them, read them iu my 
 And now and then an ample tear trili'd down 
 Her delicate cheek : it seem'd she \\as a queen 
 Over her oassion ; who, most rebel-like. 
 Sought to De king o'er her. 
 
 Kent. O, t.lien it mov'd her. 
 
 Gent, Not to a rage ; patience and sorrow strove 
 W h<j should exjjress her goodliest. You lia>e seen 
 Sunshine and rain at (mce ; her smiles and tears 
 Were like a better day: Tiiose happy smiles, 
 That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
 W hat guests were in lier eyes ; which parted 
 
 thence. 
 As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. — In brief, sorrow 
 Would be a rarity most beiov'd, if all 
 Conjd so become it. 
 
 Kent. Made she no verbal question ? 
 
 Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she; heav'd the 
 name q{ father 
 Pantingly forth, as if it piess'd her heart ; 
 Ciied. Sisters! listers ! — Shame of ladies ! sisters! 
 Kent ! father ! sisters! What! i the storm? ithe 
 
 niijht ? 
 Let jnty not be bcliev'd! — There she shook 
 The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
 And clamour moisten'd : then away sfie started 
 To deal with grief alone. 
 
 Kent. It is the stars. 
 
 The stars above u.s, govern our conditions ; 
 Else one self mate and mate could not hei;et 
 Sticii different issues. Vou spoke not with her since? 
 
 Gent. No. 
 
 Kent. Was this before the king return'd 'i" 
 
 Gent. No, since. 
 
 Kent. Well, sir; the poor distress'd Lear is i (he 
 town : 
 Who sometime, in his better tnne, remembers 
 W'hat \Ne are come about, and by no means 
 Will yield to see his daughter. 
 
 Gent. Whv. good sir ? 
 
 Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him • his own 
 nnkindness. 
 That stripp'd tier fiom his benediction, turn'd her 
 To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 
 To his dog hearted daughters. — these tilings sting 
 His mind so venomously, that burning sliame 
 Detains liim from Cordelia. 
 
 Gent, Alack, poor gentleman ! 
 
 Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers yon 
 heard not ': 
 
 Gent. 'Tis so ; they are afoot. 
 
 Kent. Well. sir. I'll biing you to our master Ijcar, 
 And leave yon to attend turn: some drai cause 
 Will in com ealnieni wrap me up awlnle . 
 When I am known aright, you shall ooi grieve 
 
712 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Lemiing me this acquaintance. I pray yon. ^o 
 Alctrg witn i«e. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene lY. —T/ie same. A Tent. 
 Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers. 
 
 Cor. Alack, 'tis he ; why, lie was met even now 
 As mad as the vex'd sea ; singina: aloud ; 
 Crown'd with raok fiimiter, and furrow weeds. 
 With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flowers,. 
 Darnel, and all the idle weeds, that grow 
 In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; 
 Search every acre in the high-grown field, 
 And bring hhn to our eye, [Exit an Officer. 
 
 What can man's wisdom do, 
 In the restoring his bereaved sense ? 
 He. that helps him, take all my outward worth. 
 
 PAy. There is means, madam : 
 Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
 The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him. 
 Are many simples operative, whose power 
 Will close the eye of anguish. 
 
 Cor. All bless'd secrets. 
 
 All vou nnpnblisli'd virtues of the earth, 
 Spring with my fears! be aidant, and remediate. 
 In the good man'.s distress ! — Seek, .seek for him ; 
 Let his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life 
 That wants the means to lead it. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Me.is. Madam, news; 
 
 The British powers are marching hitherward, 
 
 Cor. 'Tis known before ; our preparation stands 
 In expectation of them. — O dear father. 
 It is thy business that I go about ; 
 Therefore great France 
 
 My mourning, and important tears, hath pitied. 
 No blown ambilion doth our arms incite. 
 Rut love. de;\r love, and our ag'd father's right: 
 Soon may I hear, and see him ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — A Room in Gloster's Castle. 
 Enter RtGAN and Sieivard. 
 
 Beg. But are my brother's powers set forth ? 
 
 Stetv. Ay, madam. 
 
 Keg. Himself 
 
 In person there? 
 
 Stew. Madam, with much ado; 
 
 Yonr sistr-r is the better soldier. [home ? 
 
 Herj. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at 
 
 Slew. No, madam. [him ? 
 
 Beg. What might import my sister's letter to 
 
 Slew. I know not, lady. 
 
 Peg. "Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. 
 It was great ignorance, Glo.ster's eyes berng out, 
 To let him live ; where he arrives, lie moves 
 All hearts against us : Edmund, I think, is gone 
 Id pity of his misery, to despatch 
 His niglited life; moroever, to descry 
 The strength o'tlie enemy. [^letter. 
 
 Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my 
 
 Peg. Our troops set forth tomorrow; stay with us , 
 The ways are dangerous. 
 
 Sieiv. I may not, madam ; 
 
 My lady charg'd my duty in this business. 
 
 Reg. Why should she write to Edinimd ? Might 
 not yoti 
 Transport her purpose by word ? Belike, 
 Something — I know not what: — I'll love thee much, 
 Let me unseal the letter. 
 
 Stetv. > Madam, I had rather — 
 
 Reg. I know, yonr lady does not love her husband ; 
 I am sure of that: and, at her late being here. 
 She gave strange oeiliads, and most speaking looks 
 To noble Edmund I know, you are of her bosom. 
 S/ew. I, madam ? 
 
 Rpf}. I speak m nnderstamlnig; yon are, I know it: 
 Therefore, I do advise yo\i, take tiiisnote: 
 My lord is dead ; Edmund and I hwf talk'd : 
 And Diore convenient is he for my hand. 
 Than lor yo'ir la ly's : — You may' gather more. 
 
 If you do find him, pray you, give him this ; 
 
 And when yonr mistress hears thus much Irora yOB, 
 
 I pray, de.sire her call her wisdon* to her. 
 
 So, fare yon well. , ,. , 
 
 If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor. 
 
 Preferment falls on him that cuts him olf. 
 
 Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam ! I woulii 
 What party I do follow. i "sHew 
 
 jleg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — T/te Country near Dover, 
 Enter Gloster, and Edgar dressed like a 
 peasant. 
 Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same 
 hill? (labctir. 
 
 Edg. You do climb np it now; look, how we 
 Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. 
 Edg. Horrible steep: 
 
 Hark, do you hear the sea? 
 Glo. No, truly. 
 
 Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imper- 
 By your eye's anguish. _ _ [iec4 
 
 Glo. So may it be, indeed : 
 
 Methinks, thy voice is alter'd ; and thou speakst • 
 In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst. 
 
 Edg. \ ou are much deceiv'd ; in nothing am 1 
 But in my garments. [chang'ii, 
 
 Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken. 
 
 Edg. Come on, sir ; here's the place : — stand 
 still. — How fearful 
 And dizzy 'tis, to cast one eyes so low! 
 The crows, and chongns, that wing the miilway air» 
 Shew scarce so gross as beetles : halfway down, 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! 
 Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : 
 The fishermen, that walk upon the beach. 
 Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchiuing b;irk, 
 Diminish'd to her cock : her rock, a buoy 
 Almost too small for sight: The mnrmnrinjf surge. 
 That on the uunumberd idle pebbles chafes. 
 Cannot be heard so high : — I'll look n . oHirc,-; 
 Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
 Topple down headlong. 
 
 Glo. Set me where you stiimJ. 
 
 Edg. Give me your hand : You are now witiiina 
 f.iot 
 Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the mooa 
 Would 1 not leap upright 
 
 Glo. Let go my hand. 
 
 Here, friend, is another purse ; in it, a jewel 
 Well worth a pour man's taking : Fairies and gods. 
 Prosper it with thee ! Go tliou further off; 
 Bid me tarewell, and let me hear thee aoing 
 
 Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. [Seems to go.) 
 Glo. _ With all my heart 
 
 Edg. Why Ido trifle thus with his despair. 
 Is done to cure it. 
 
 Glo. O yon mighty gods ! 
 
 This world I do renounce ; and, in your sights^ 
 .Shake patiently my great affliction ofl'; 
 If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
 To quarrel witii your great opposeless wills. 
 My snuir and loathed part of niiture, should 
 Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—* 
 Now, fellow, fare thee well. 
 
 [He leaps and falls along.) 
 Edg. (June, sir, farewell.— 
 
 And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
 The trnasiiry of life, when life itself 
 Yields to the theft : Had-he been where he though?. 
 By this, had thought been past. — Alive, or dead r 
 Ho, yon sir! fiiend! — Hear you, sir? — s|)eak \ 
 Thus might he pass indeed: — Yet iie revives; 
 What are you, sir? 
 Glo. Away, and let me die. 
 
 Edg. Had'st thou been aii-iif but gossamer, 
 fealhers, air. 
 So nmry fathom down precipitating, 
 Thou had'st «l>iver'd like an egg- hot thou do-si 
 breathe; 
 
SCKXE G. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 713 
 
 Hast heavy Robstance ; bleed'st not ; speak'st ; art 
 Ten masts at each make not the altittide, [sound ; 
 Which tlio4i hrist perpendicniarly lell; 
 Thy life's a miracle : Speak yet again. 
 
 Olo. B'lt have I fallen, or no? [hoiirn : 
 
 Edg. From the dread siunniit of this chalky 
 Look, lip a-height ; — the shrill uforg'd lark so tar 
 Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up. 
 
 Olo. Alack, I have no eyes. — 
 In wretchedness depriv'd that benefit, 
 To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort. 
 When misery could begnile (he tyrant's rage, 
 And frustrate his prond will. 
 
 Ed^. Give me your arm : 
 
 Up : — So ; — How is't ? Feel you yonr legs ? You 
 stand. 
 
 Glo. Too well, too well. 
 
 Edy. This is above all strangeness. 
 
 Upon the crown o'the cliti', what thing was that 
 Which parted from you ? 
 
 Glo A poor unfortunate beggar. 
 
 Edg. As I stood here below, niethnnglit, his eyes 
 Were two (nil moons; he had a (lioiisand noses, 
 H^rns wlielk'd, and wav'd like the enridged sea; 
 It was some fiend : Tlierefore, thou happy lather, 
 Think, that the clearest gods, who make them 
 
 honours 
 Of men's impossibilities, have preserv'd thee. 
 
 Glo. I do remember now : henceforth I'll bear 
 Afiiiction. till it do cry out itself, 
 Enough, enough, and die. 'I'hat thing you speak of, 
 I took it fur a man ; often 'twould say. 
 The fiend, llie fiend : he led me to that place. 
 
 Edg. Bear tree and patient thoughts. — But who 
 comes here ? 
 
 Enter Le.\r, J'aiilasticfrllg dressed up ivithjloivers. 
 
 The safer sense will ne'er accommodate 
 His master thus. 
 
 hear. No, they cannot touch me for coining; 
 I am the king himsell. 
 
 Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! 
 
 Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. — There's 
 
 ?'Our press money. That fellow handles his bow 
 ike a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. — 
 Look, look, a mouse ! Peace, peace ; — this piece of 
 toasted cheese will do't. — 'I'here's my gauntlet ; 
 I'll prove it on a giant — Bring up the brown bills 
 — O, well flown, bird ! — i'the clout, i'the clout : 
 hewgh I — Give the word. 
 
 Edg, Sweet marjoram. 
 
 Lear. Fass. 
 
 Glo. I know that voice. 
 
 Lear. Ha ! Goneril — with a white beard ! — 
 They flatter'd me like a dog; and told me I had 
 white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were 
 there. To say, ay, and no, to every thing I said ! — 
 Ay and no, too, was no good divinity. When the 
 rain came to wet me once, and (he wind to make 
 me chatter : when the thunder would not peace at 
 my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt 
 them out. Go to, they are nut men o'tlieir words ; 
 they told rae I was every thing ; 'tis a lie ; I am 
 not ague- proof. 
 
 Glo. The trick of that voice I do well remember : 
 Is't not the king ! 
 
 Lear. Ay, every inch a king : 
 
 W^hen I do stare, see, how the subject quakes. 
 I pardon that man's life; What was thy cause? — 
 Adultery. — 
 
 Thou shalt not die: Die for adultery ! No: 
 The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly 
 Does lecher in my sight. 
 
 Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son 
 W^as kinder to his f'atlier, than my daughters 
 Go 'tween the lawful sheets. 
 To't, luxury, pell-mell, for i lack soldiers. — 
 Behold you smipeniig d'One, 
 Whose tiice between her lurks presaueth snow; 
 That miners \irti'e, and does siiake the head 
 
 To hear ol pleasure's name ; 
 The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't 
 With a more riotous appetite. 
 Down from the waist fliey are centaurs. 
 Though women all above: 
 But to the giidle do the gods inherit, 
 Beneath is all the fiends'; there's hell, there's dark- 
 ness, there is the snlpiiuroiis pit, biirning, scalding, 
 stench, consumption ; — Fy, fy, fy ! pah ; pah ! 
 Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to 
 sweet mv imagination : there's money for thee. 
 
 Glo. let me kiss that baud ! 
 
 Lear, Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality. 
 
 Glo. O ruin'd piece of nature ! 'i'his great worlj 
 Shall so wear oat to nought. — Dost thou know me 
 
 Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost 
 thou sqiiiny at me .•" No, do thy worst, blind Cupid ; 
 I'll not love. — Head thou this challenge ; mark but 
 the penning of it. 
 
 Glo. Were all the letters 8iins, I could not see one. 
 
 Edg. I would not take this from report: — it is. 
 And my heart breaks at it 
 
 Lear. Read. 
 
 Glo, What, with the case of eyes? 
 
 Lear. O, ho, are you there with me ? No eyes 
 in your head, nor no money in your purse '>. Your 
 eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light: Vet 
 you see how this woi Id goes. 
 
 Glo. I see it feelingly. 
 
 Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how thia 
 world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears : 
 see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. 
 Hark, in thine ear: Change places; aud, handy- 
 dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief ?^ 
 Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar 'i 
 
 Glo. Ay, sir. 
 
 Lear. And the creature run from the cur ? 
 There thou miKht'st behold the great image of au- 
 thority : a dog's obeyed in office. — 
 Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : 
 Why dost thou lash that whore 'r" Strip thine own 
 
 back ; 
 Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind. 
 For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hanga 
 
 the cozener. 
 Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; 
 Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with 
 
 gold. 
 And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : 
 Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
 None does oti'end, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em : 
 Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
 To seal the accuser's lip.s. Get the glass eyes ; 
 .\nd, like a scurvy politician, seem [now; 
 
 To see the things thou dost not. — Now, now, now, 
 Pull oft' my boots : — harder, harder; so. 
 
 Edg, O, matter and impertinency mix'd ! 
 Reason in madness ! 
 
 Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my ejeaa 
 I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloster: 
 Thou must be patient ; we came crying liitner. 
 Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air. 
 We wawl, and cry: — I will preach to thee ; mark me. 
 
 Glo. Alack, alack the day! 
 
 Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are corae 
 To this great stage of fools ; — This a good block ?^ 
 it were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
 A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof; 
 And wiien I have stolen upon these sous-iu-law, 
 Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman, ivith Attendant.s. 
 
 Gent, O, here he is : lay hand upon him, — Sir, 
 Your most dear daughter — 
 
 hear. No rescue j* What, a prisoner? I am even 
 The natural fool ol fortune. — Use me well ; 
 \'on sh-ill .rave ransmn. Let me have a surgeon 
 I am cut to tJie brains. 
 
 (hvt. You shall have any thing 
 
 Lear. No seconds'' all myself? 
 
714 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Why, this would make a man, a man of salt. 
 
 'I'o use his eyea for fjardeii uater-pots. 
 
 Ay, aud for laying autumn's dust. 
 GeiU. Good .sir,. — 
 
 Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom; 
 
 vyitat? 
 
 I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king. 
 My masters, know you that ? 
 
 Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. 
 
 Lear. Then there's Hie in it. Nay, an you get 
 it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. 
 
 Exit, running ; Attendants fyllow. 
 
 Gent. A sigiit most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; 
 Past speaking of in a king! — Thou hast one 
 
 daughter, 
 Who redeems nature from the general curse 
 Which twain ha\e brought lire to. 
 
 Kc/y. Hail, gentle sir. 
 
 Gent- Sir, speed you : What's your will? 
 
 Edt/. Do you hear aught, sir, of a byttle toward ? 
 
 Gent. Most sure, and vulgar : every one heart that. 
 Which can distinguish sound. 
 
 Et/(/. But, by your favour. 
 
 How iiear's the other army ? 
 
 Ge7>t. Near, and on speedy foot; the main descry 
 Stands on the hourly thought. 
 
 Ec/ff. I thank you, sir: that's all. 
 
 Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is 
 Her army is mov'd on. (here, 
 
 Edg. I tliank you, sir. [Exit Gent. 
 
 Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from 
 me ; 
 Let not my worser spririt tempt me again 
 To die before you please I 
 
 Edg. Well pray you, father. 
 
 Glo. Now. good sir. what are you ? 
 
 Edg. A most poor n;an, made tame by fortune's 
 blows : 
 Will), by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 
 Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your h.md, 
 I'll It-ad you to soue biding. 
 
 Glo. Hearty thanks : 
 
 The bounty and the benison of hea\eu 
 To bout, and boot ! 
 
 Enter Steward. 
 
 Stew. A prpclaim'd prize ! Most happy I 
 
 That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh 
 To raise my furtnnes. Thou old unhappy traitor, 
 Briefly tiiyself remember : — The sword is out 
 That nmst destroy thee. 
 
 Glo. Now let thy friendly hand 
 
 Put strength enough to it. {Edgar opposes.) 
 
 Stew. Wherei'iire, bold peasant, 
 
 Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; 
 Lest that the infection of his (ortime take 
 Like hold <in thee. Let go his arm. 
 
 Edg. drill not let go. zir, without vurther 'casion. 
 
 Slew. Let go, slave, or thou diest. 
 
 Edy. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor 
 volk pass. And ch'ud ha' bi en zvvagmr d out ol my 
 life, 'twould not ha' been ze) long as 'tis by a fort- 
 night. Nay, come not near the old man; keep out, 
 die vor'ye, or ise try whether your costard or my 
 bat be the harder: Cli'ill be plain with you. 
 
 Stew. Out, dunghill ! 
 
 Edg. drill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no matter 
 for your loins. 
 
 (Tlieij fight : and Edgar knochs him down.) 
 
 Stew Shue, thou hast slam me: — Villain, take 
 my purse ; 
 If ever thuu wilt thrive, bury my body; 
 And give the letters, which thou find'st about me, 
 'I'o Edmund earl of Gloster; seek him out 
 Upon the British party :— O untmiely death ! (Dies.) 
 
 Edg. I know lliee v\ell: A ser\iceable villain; 
 As (luleoiis to the vices of thy mistress, 
 As h;idne.ss would desire. 
 
 Glo. What, is he dead ? 
 
 Edg. .Sit you down, father; rest you. — 
 
 Let's see his pockets : these letters, that lie speaks of. 
 May be my friends. — He's dead ; I am only sorry 
 He had no other death's man. — Let us see : — 
 Leave, gentle wax: and, manners, blame us not: 
 To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts ; 
 Tlieir papers, is more lawful. 
 
 (Reads.) I-et our reciprocal vows be remem- 
 bered. You have many opportunities to cut him 
 off; if your ivill want 7iot, titne and place will be 
 JruitfuUy offered. There is nothing done, if he 
 retiirti the conqueror : Then am I the prisoner, 
 and his bed my gaol ; from the loathed warmth 
 whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your 
 labour. 
 
 Your wife, {so I would say,) and your af- 
 fectionate servant, Goneril. 
 
 undistinguisli'd space of woman's wiil! 
 A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ; 
 
 And the exchange, my brother! — Here, in the sands, 
 Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified 
 Of murderous lechers : and, in the mature time, 
 With this ungracious pager strike the sight 
 Of file death-practis'd duke : For him 'tis well, 
 That of thy death and business I can tell. * 
 
 [Exit Edgar, dragging out the body. 
 Glo. The king is mad : How stilf is my vile sense. 
 That I stand uj), and have ingenious feeling 
 Of niy huge sorrows! Better I were distract 
 iSo should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, 
 And «oes, by wrong imaginations, lose 
 Tiie knowledge of themselves. 
 
 Re-enter Edgar. 
 Edg. Give me your hand : 
 
 Far otf, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. 
 Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Y]l.—A Tent i?! the French Camp. Lear 
 
 on a bed, asleep ; Physician, Gentlemen, and 
 
 others, attending. 
 
 Enter Cordelia, and Kent. 
 
 Cor. O thou, good Kent, how shall I live, and work. 
 To match thy goodness ? My lile will be loo short 
 And every measure fail me. 
 
 Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. 
 All my reports go with the modest truth; 
 Nor more, nor ciipp'd, but so. 
 
 Cor. Be better suited : 
 
 These weeds are memories of those worser hours ; 
 
 1 pr'ythee, put them oft". 
 
 Ketit- Pardon me, dear madam ; 
 
 Yet to be known, shortens my made intent : 
 My boon I make it, that you know me not, 
 Till time and J think meet. 
 
 Cor. Tlien be it so, my good lord. — How does the 
 king :' {To the Physician.) 
 
 Phys. Madam sleeps still : 
 
 Cor. O you kind gods, 
 Cure this great breach in his abused nature! 
 The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up 
 Ol this child-changed father! 
 
 Phys. So please your majesty. 
 
 That we may wake the king ? he halh slept long. 
 
 Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed 
 I'the sway of your own will. Is he array'd ? 
 
 Gent. Ay. madam ; in the heaviness of iiis sleep. 
 We put fresh garments on him. [him : 
 
 Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake 
 I doubt not of his temperance. 
 
 Cor, Very well. 
 
 Phys. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music 
 there. 
 
 Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang 
 Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 
 Repair those violent liiirius, that my two si.sters 
 Have in thy reverence made ! 
 
 Kent. Kind and dear princess! 
 
 Cor. Had you not been their father, these white 
 flakes 
 Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face 
 
 ( 
 
Act V. ScESE 1. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 715 
 
 To be expos'd .ngainst the wan-infr winds''' 
 
 To stand against the deep dread-bolted tlinnder ? 
 
 In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
 
 ()f quick, cross-lightninsr? to watcli (poor perdu !) 
 
 With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog. 
 
 Though he had bit me, should have stood that night 
 
 Against my tire : And wast thou fain, poor father, 
 
 To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 
 
 I'n short and musty straw!' Alack, alack ! 
 
 'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
 
 Had not concluded all. — He wakes ; speak to him. 
 
 Pkys. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest. 
 
 Cor. How does my royal lord i How fares your 
 majesty ? [grave : — 
 
 Lear. Yon do me wrong, (o take me out o'the 
 Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
 Upon a wheel oi fire, that miiie own tears 
 Do scald like molten lead. 
 
 Cor. Sir, do you know me ? 
 
 Lear. Yow are a spirit, I know ; When did you die ? 
 
 Cor. Still, still, far wide ! 
 
 Pfiys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. 
 
 Lear. Where have I been? Where am 1? — Fair 
 day- light?— 
 I ara mightily abus'd. — I should even die with pity, 
 To see another tliiis. — I know not what to say. — 
 [ will not swear, these are my hands : — let's see ; 
 I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assur'd 
 Of my condition. 
 
 Cor. O, look upon me, sir, 
 
 And hold your hands in benediction o'er ice : — 
 No. sir, you must not kneel. 
 
 Lear. Pray, do not mock me : 
 
 I am a very foolish fond old man. 
 Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, 
 I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. 
 Methinks, I should know you, and know this man; 
 Yet I am dotibtful : (or I ara mainly ignorant 
 VVhat place this is ; and all the skill I have 
 Remembers not these garments ; nor 1 know not 
 Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; 
 For, as I ant a mm, I think this lady 
 To be my child Cordelia. 
 
 Cor. And so I am, I am. 
 
 Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, 
 weep not-. 
 If you have poison for me, I will drhik. it. 
 I know you do not iove me: for your sixters 
 Ha\e, as I do remember, done me wrong: 
 V'ou have some cause, they have not. 
 
 Cor. No cause, no cause. 
 
 Lear, Am I in France ? 
 
 Kent. • In your own kingdom, sir. 
 
 Lear. Do not abuse me. 
 
 Phys. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, 
 Vou .see, is cur'd in him : arid yet it is danger 
 I'o make him even o'er the time he has lost. 
 Di'sire hira to go in ; trouble him no more, 
 'fill further settling. 
 
 Cor. Wil't please your highness walk ? 
 
 Lear, You must bear with me : 
 
 i'ray uovf, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish. 
 [Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Gent. Holds it true, sir. 
 That the duke of Cornwall was so slain? 
 
 Kent. Most certain, sir. 
 
 Gent. Who Ls conductor of his people ? 
 
 Kent. As 'tis said, 
 
 The bastard son of Gloster. 
 
 Gent. They say, Edgar, 
 
 Ills baiii?h'd son, is with the earl of Kent 
 111 Germany. 
 
 Rent. Report is changeable. 
 
 'Tis time to look about; tlie powers o'the kingdom 
 Approach apace. 
 
 Gent. The arbitrement is like to be a bloodv. 
 Faie you well, sir. '{Exit. 
 
 Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly 
 wrought, 
 Or well, or ill. as tliia day's battle's fought. [Exit. 
 
 ACT. V. 
 
 Scene I. — The Camp of the British Forces, near 
 Dover. 
 
 Enter, with drum and colours, Edmitod, Regan, 
 Officers, Soldiers, and others. 
 
 Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold*, 
 Or, whether since he is adiis'd by aught 
 'I'o change the course; He's I'ldl of alteration. 
 And self-reproving : — bring his constant pleasure. 
 ( To an Officer, ivho goes out,) 
 
 Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. 
 
 Edm. 'Tis to be doubted, madam. 
 ^Reg. Now, sweet lord. 
 
 You know the goodness 1 intend upon you : 
 'I'ell me. — but truly, — but then speak tlie truth, 
 Do you not love my sister ? 
 
 Edm. In honour'd loxe. 
 
 Reij. But have you never found my brother's way 
 To the forfended place ? 
 
 Edm. That thought abuses you. 
 
 Rey. I am doubtful, that you ha<e been conjunct 
 And bosnm'd with her. as far as we call hers. 
 
 Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. 
 
 Rej. I never shall endure her: Dear my lord. 
 Be not f uniliar with her. 
 
 Edm. Fear me not ; 
 
 She, and the duke her husband, — 
 
 Enter Albany, Goneiu.,, and Soldiers. 
 
 Gon. 1 had rnther lose the battle, than that sister 
 Should loosen him and me. [Aside.) 
 
 Alb. Our very loving sister, well be met. — 
 Sir, this I hear, — The king is come to his daughter. 
 With others, whom the rigour of our state 
 Forc'd to cry out. Where I could not be honest, 
 I never yet was valiant: for this business, 
 It touches us as France invades our land. 
 Not holds the king; with others, whom, I fear. 
 Most just and heavy causes make oppose. 
 
 Edm. Sir, you speak nobl.\ . 
 
 Reg. Why is this reason'd ? 
 
 Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy: 
 For these domestic and particular broils 
 Are not to question here. 
 
 Alb. Let us then determine 
 
 Witii the ancient of war on our proceedings. 
 
 Edm. 1 shall attend you presently at your tent, 
 
 Reg. Sisler, you'll go with us ? 
 
 Gon. No. 
 
 Reg. 'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us. 
 
 Gun. O, ho, I know the riddle : (Aside.) — I will gti. 
 As they are goitig out, enter Ldgar, disguised. 
 
 Edg. If e'er your grace had speecli witu man so 
 poor, 
 Hear me one word. 
 
 Alb. ril overtake you. — Speak 
 
 [Exeunt Edmund. Regan, Goneril, OJ/lcero, 
 Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 
 Edg. Before you fight tlie battle, ope this letter. 
 If you have victory, let the trumpet sound 
 For him that brought it: wretched though I seem, 
 I can produce a champion, that will prove 
 VVhat is avouched there : If you miscarry, 
 Your business of the world hath so an end. 
 And machination cease.s. Fortune love you I 
 
 Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. 
 
 Edg. I vv as forbid it. 
 
 When time shall serve, let but the herald cry. 
 And I'll appear again. ' [ExiL 
 
 Alb. Wliy, fare thee well ; I will o'erlook thy papor. 
 Re-enter Ed.mund. 
 
 Edm. The enemy's in view, draw up your powers. 
 Here is the gness of their true ^trellgtli and Ibrces 
 By diligent discovery; — but your haste 
 Is now urg'd on you. 
 
 Alb. We will greet the time. [Exit. 
 
 Edm. To both these sistci's have I svvoin my love; 
 E;ich jealous of the other, as the stung 
 .Are of the adder. Which of tliem .«hall I take ? 
 Both? one'' or neither? Neither can be tujoy'd. 
 
716 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 If both vemain alive : To take the widow, 
 
 Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; 
 
 And liardly shall I carry out my side, 
 
 Iier husband being alive. Now tlien, we'll use 
 
 His countenance for the battle ; which being done, 
 
 Let her, who would be rid of him, devise 
 
 His speedy taking off. As for tiie mercy 
 
 Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia, 
 
 The battle done, and they within our power, 
 
 Shall never see his pardon : for my state 
 
 Stands on nie to defend, not to debate. [Exit. 
 
 Scene U. — A Field between the two Camps. 
 
 Alarum within. Enter, tvith drum and colours, 
 
 Lear, Cordelia, and their Forces : and exeunt. 
 
 Enter Edgar and Gloster. 
 
 Edg. Here father, take the shadow of this tree 
 
 For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive : 
 
 If ev"pr I return to you again. 
 
 Ml bring you couif jrt 
 
 Olo. Grace go with von, sir! 
 
 [Exit Edgar. 
 
 Alarums; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter 
 
 Edgar. 
 E.d(j. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away; 
 King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter t«'eu : 
 Give me thy hand, come on. 
 Glo. No further, sir ; a man may rot even here. 
 Edg. What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must en- 
 dure 
 Their going hence, even as their coming hither: 
 Ripeness is all : Come on. 
 
 Glo, And thafs true too. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IIL — The British Camp near Dover. 
 
 Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, Ed- 
 mund; Lear, and Cordelia, as prisoners; 
 Officers, Soldiers, etc, 
 Edm- Some officers take them away : good guard ; 
 Until their greater pleasures first be known. 
 That are to censure them. 
 
 Cor. VVe are not the first, 
 
 Who. with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. 
 l'"or thee, oppressed king, am I cast down ; 
 Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown. — 
 Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters ? 
 Lear. No, no, no, no ! Come, let's away to prison : 
 We two alone will sing like birds i'the cage: 
 VVhen thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down. 
 And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live, 
 And uray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
 At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
 Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, — 
 Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; — 
 And take upon us the mystery of things. 
 As if we were God's spies: And we'll wear out, 
 Jn a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones. 
 That ebb and flow oy the moon. 
 
 Edm. Take them away. 
 
 Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
 Tile gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught 
 
 thee ? 
 He that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven. 
 And fire us hence, like foxes. Wipe thine eyes ; 
 Thegonjeers shall devour them, flesh and fell. 
 Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see them starve 
 
 first 
 Come. \ Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded. 
 
 Edm. Come hittier, captain ; hark. 
 Take tliou tliis note ; {Giving a paper.) go, follow 
 
 fhem to prison : 
 One stnp I have adianc'd thee: if thou dost 
 As this Histructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
 To noble fortunes ; Know thou this, — that men 
 Are as tiie time is : to be tender minded 
 Does not bf come a sword ; — Thy great employment 
 Will not hear question; either say, thou'lt do't, 
 Or tlirive by other means. 
 Offi. I'll do't. my lord 
 
 Edm. About it, an J write happy, when thou bast 
 done. 
 Mark, — I say, instantly ; and carry it so, 
 As I have set it down. 
 
 Offi. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats : 
 If it be mans work, I will do it. [Exit Officer. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, 
 Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 Alb. Sir, you have shewn to-day your valiant 
 strain. 
 And fortune led you well : You have the captives. 
 Who were the opposites of this day's strife : 
 We do reauire them of you ; so to use them 
 As we shall find their merits and our safety 
 Mav equally detenuine. 
 
 £d}n. Sir, T thought it fit 
 
 To send the old and miserable king 
 To some retention, and appointed guard ; 
 VV hose age has charms in it, whose title more, 
 To pluck the common bosom on his side. 
 Ana tumour impress'd lances in our eyes 
 W^hich do command them. With him I sent the 
 
 queen ; 
 My reason all the same ; and they are ready 
 To-morrow, or at farther space, to appear 
 Where you shall hold your .session. At this time. 
 We sweat, and bleed : the friend hath lost his ft lend ; 
 .\nd the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd 
 By those that feel their sharpness : — 
 The question of Cordelia, and her father. 
 Requires a fitter place. 
 
 Alb. Sir, by your patience 
 
 I liold you but a subject of this war, 
 Not as a brother. 
 
 Reg. That's as we list to grace him. 
 
 Mf thinks our pleasure might have been demanded, 
 Eie you had spoke so far. He led our powers; 
 Bore the commission of my place and person; 
 The which immediacy may well stand up. 
 And call itself your brother. 
 
 Goti. Not so hot 
 
 In his own grace he doth exalt himself. 
 More than in your advancement. 
 
 Reg. In my rights. 
 
 By nie invested, he compeers the best. (you 
 
 Gon. That were the most, if he should husband 
 
 Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 
 
 Gon. Holla, holla'. 
 
 That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint. 
 
 Reg. Lady, I am not well ; else 1 should answer 
 From a full flowing stomach. — General, 
 Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; 
 Dispose of them, of me ; the wails are thine : 
 Witne.ss the world, that I create thee here 
 My lord and master. 
 
 Gon. Mean you to enjoy hira ? 
 
 Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will. 
 
 Edm. Nor in thine, lord. 
 
 Alb. Half-blooded fellow, jres. 
 
 Rey, Let the drum strike, and prove my title 
 thine. {To Edmund.) 
 
 Alb. Stay yet; hear reason: — Edmund, 1 arrest 
 thee 
 On capital treason ; and. in thy arrest. 
 This gilded serpent : {Pointing to Gon.) — for your 
 
 claim, fair sister, 
 I bar it in the interest of my wife : 
 'Tis she is sub-rontracted to this lord, 
 And I, her husband, contradict your bans. 
 If you will marry, make your love to me, 
 My lady is bespoke. 
 
 Gon. An interlude .' 
 
 Alb. Thou art arm'd. Gloster:— Let the trumpet 
 sound : 
 IJ'iione appear to prove upon thy person, 
 Ttiv heinous, manifest, and many treiison. 
 There is my pledge : {Throwing down a glove.) I'llJ 
 
 prove it on ttij lieart. 
 E.p I ta.ste bread, thou .irt in nothi" less 
 Tiiaii I have here protlaiiii'il ther. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 717 
 
 Re(j. Sick, O sick! 
 
 Gow. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. {^Aside.) 
 
 Edm. There's my exchange: [Tlirowi7i(j down a 
 glove) what in the world he is, 
 Thnt names me traitor, villain-like he lies : 
 Call by thy trumpet: he, that dares approach. 
 On him. on yon, (who not?) I will maintain 
 My trtitli and honour firmly. 
 
 All. A herald, ho ! 
 
 Edm. A herald, ho, a herald ! 
 
 Alb. Trust to thy single virtue; lor thy soldiers. 
 All levied in my name, have in my name 
 Took their discharge. 
 
 Reg. ' This sickness grows upon me. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Alb. She is not well ; convey her to my tent. 
 
 [Exit Regan, led. 
 Come hither, herald, — Let the trumi^et sound, — 
 And read out this. 
 
 Offi. Sound, trumpet. (A Trumpet sounds.) 
 
 Herald rends. 
 If any man of quality, or degree, tvitltin the 
 lists of the army, uill maintain vpon Edmund, 
 supposed earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold 
 traitor, let him appear at the third sound of the 
 trumpet : He is boid in his defence. 
 
 Edm. Sound, (1 Trumpet.) 
 
 Her. Again. (2 Trumpet.) 
 
 Her. Again. (3 Trumpet.) 
 
 {Trumpet answers within.) 
 
 Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a Trumpet. 
 
 Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears 
 Upon this call o'the trumpet. 
 
 Her. What are you? 
 
 ^'our name, your quality? and why you answer 
 This present summons? 
 
 Edg. Know, my name is lost ; 
 
 By trea.son's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit ; 
 Vet am I noble, as the ad\ersary 
 ' rome to cope withal. 
 
 Alb. Which is that adversary? 
 
 Edg. What's he, that speaks for Edmund earl of 
 Gloster? 
 
 Ehn. Himself; — what say'st thou to him ? 
 
 lid;/. Draw the sword ; 
 
 1 hat, if my speech offend a noble heart, 
 'i'liy arm may do justice : here is mine. 
 Hi'hjid, it is the privilege of my honours, 
 iiy oath, and my profession : 1 protest, — 
 Maugre thy strength, youth, jilace, and eminence, 
 Dt-spite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune, 
 'i hy valour, and thy heart, — thou art a tiaitor: 
 False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy fathi r ; 
 Con.spirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; 
 *.nd. from the extremest upward of thy head. 
 To the descent and dust beneath thy ieet, 
 .\ most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou. No, 
 Tills sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent 
 To prove upon thy heart, u hereto I speak, 
 Thou liest. 
 
 Edm. In wisdom, I should ask thy name ; 
 But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, 
 And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathes. 
 What safe and nicely I might well delay 
 liy rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn; 
 Back do I toss tliese treasons to thy head ; 
 With the hell hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; 
 Which, (ior they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,) 
 This sword ol mine shall give them instant way. 
 Where they shall rest for eier. — Tiiinipets, speak. 
 I Alarums. They fight. Edmutid Jall.s.) 
 
 Alb. O ijave liini, save liiin ! 
 
 Gott. This is mere practice, Gloster: 
 
 By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer 
 An unkn(i\\n iip(,osite : thou art not vai.quish'd. 
 But cozeu'd and btguil'd. 
 
 Alb. Shut your mouth, dame. 
 
 Or with tliis paper shall I si"]) it: — lloldj sir: — 
 
 Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil: 
 
 No tearing. Lady ; 1 perceive you know it. 
 
 {Gives the letter to Edmund.) 
 
 Gon. Say, if I do; the laws are mine, not Ihins : 
 Who shall arraign me for't? 
 
 Alb. Most monstrous.' 
 
 Kiiow'st thou this paper? 
 
 Gon. Ask me not what 1 know. [Exit. 
 
 Alb. Go after her : she's desperate ; gov em her. 
 {To an Officer, who goes out.) 
 
 Edm. What you have charg'd uie with, that have 
 I done ; 
 And more, much more ; the time will bring it out; 
 ''I'is past and so am I : But what art thou, 
 That hast this fortune on me V If thou art noble, 
 1 do forgive thee. 
 
 Edg. Let's exchange charity. 
 
 I am no less in blood than th(>u art, Edmund! 
 
 II more, the more thou liast wroiig'd me. 
 My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. 
 The gods are Just, and of our pleasant vices 
 Make instruments to scourge us: 
 
 The dark and vicious place where thee he got. 
 Cost him his eyes. 
 
 Edm. Thou hast spoken right, 'tistiue; 
 
 The wheel is come full circle; 1 am here. 
 
 Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy 
 A roval nobleness : — I must embrace thee ; 
 Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I 
 Did hate thee, or tliy father! 
 
 Edg. Worthy prince, 
 
 I know it well. 
 
 Alb. Where have you hid yourself? 
 
 How have you known the miseries ot your lather? 
 
 Edg. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief 
 tale ;— 
 And. when 'tis told, O. th.it my heart wyuld burst I — 
 The bloody proclamation to escape, 
 That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness 
 That with the pain of death wed hourly die. 
 Rather than die at once !) taught me to shift 
 Into a madman's rags ; to assume a semblance 
 That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit 
 Met I my father with his bleeding rings. 
 Their precious stones new lost ; became his guide, 
 Led him, begg'd fur him. sav'd him fiom despair. 
 Never (O fault !) reveal d myself uutu iiim. 
 Until some hall hour past, when I was arm'd; 
 Not sure, though hoping, of this guod success, 
 1 ask'd his blessing, and from first t<i last 
 Told him my pilgrimage : But his flaw'd heart, 
 (Alack, tdo weak the conliict to support I) 
 "I'wixt two extremes of passion, Joy and grief, 
 Burst smilingly. 
 
 Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me. 
 
 And shall, perchance, do good : but speak you on ; 
 ^011 look as you had something more to say. 
 
 Alb. 11 there be more, more woful, hold it in; 
 For I am almi-st ready to dissolve, 
 Healing of this. 
 
 Edg. This would have seem'd a period 
 
 To such as love not sc^row ; but another. 
 To amplify too much, would make iuuch more, 
 .And top extremity. 
 
 Whilst i was big in clamour, came there a man. 
 Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
 Shiinn'd mv ahhorr'd society ; but then, finding 
 Who 'twas that so endiir'd, with Ins strong arms 
 He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
 As he'd burst heaven , threw him on my father; 
 'J'old the most piteous tale of Lear and him, , 
 That ever ear receiv'd : v\hich in recounting 
 His grief grew puissant, and the strings o( life 
 Beiian to crack : Twice then the trumpet sounded, 
 And there I left him tranc'd. 
 
 Alb But who was tlii.i? 
 
 Kdij. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who, in di» 
 
 gui.se, 
 
 FiHow'd h s enemy king, and did him service 
 Improper lor a slave 
 
718 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 Enter a Gentleman hastily, ivilh a bloody knife. 
 
 dent. Help! help! O help! 
 
 Eda. What kind of lielp ? 
 
 Atb. Speak, man. 
 
 Edg. What means that bloody knife ? 
 
 GfTit. 'Tis hot, it smokes ; 
 
 It ciime even from the heart of— 
 
 ji(t). Who, nifin ? speak. 
 
 Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady : and her sister 
 By her poisond ; she confesses it. 
 
 Edm, I was contracted to them both; all three 
 Now Mi.irry in an iiislant. 
 
 Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead! — 
 This judgment of the heavens, that makes ns tremble, 
 Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman. 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 Edg. Here comes Kent, sir. 
 
 Alb. O ! it is he. 
 The time ^vill not allow the compliment. 
 Which very ma^nners urges. 
 
 Kent. ' I am come 
 
 To bid my kintr and master aye good night ; 
 Is he not here ? 
 
 Alb. Great thing of us forgot ! — 
 
 Speak, Edmund, where's' the king 'i and where's 
 
 Cordelia r— 
 See'st thou this object, Kent ? 
 
 {The bodies of Goneril and Regan are 
 brought in.) 
 
 Kent. Alack, why thus? 
 
 Edm. Yet Edmund was belov'd : 
 
 Tlie one the other poison'd for my sake. 
 And after slew herself. 
 
 Alh. Even so. — Cover their faces. 
 
 Edm. I pant for lite : — Some good I mean to do, 
 Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,— 
 Be brief in if, — to the castle; for my writ 
 Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia : — 
 Nay, send in time. 
 
 Alb. Run, run, O, run ! 
 
 Edy. To who, my ioid :' — VVlio has the office ? send 
 Thy token of reprieve. 
 
 Edm. Well tlionght on ; take my sword, 
 Gil'- it the captiiin. 
 
 Alh. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit Edgar. 
 
 Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me 
 To hnng Cordelia in the prison, and 
 To lay the blame ii|)on her own despair, 
 That she furbid iietself.' 
 
 Alb.'Vtii: gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. 
 [Edmund is borne ojf.) 
 
 ^Enisr Lear, ttrith Cordelia, dead in his arms ; 
 Edgar, Officers, and others. 
 
 Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl ! — O, you are men 
 of stones ; 
 Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so 
 That heai en's vault should crack: — O, she is gone 
 
 forever! 
 I know, when one is dead, and when one lives: 
 She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass ; 
 if that her breath will mist or stain the stone. 
 Why. then she lives. 
 
 Kent. Is this the promis'd end ? 
 
 Eda. Or image of that horror? 
 
 Alt). Fall, and cease ! 
 
 Lear. This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so. 
 It is a cliance that does redeem all sorrows 
 'I'hat ever 1 have felt. 
 
 Kent. O my good master ! (Kneeling.) 
 
 J'gnr. Pr'ythee, away. 
 
 /-'-■/y. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. 
 
 ■hear. A plague upon you, murderers, taitorsali ! 
 
 f might have sav'd her ; now she's gone for ever ;— 
 Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha ! 
 What is't thou say'st ? — Her voice was ever soft. 
 Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman : — 
 I kill'd the slave, that was a hinging thee. 
 
 Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did. 
 
 Lear. Did I not, ftjlow? 
 
 I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion 
 I would liave made them skip: I am old now. 
 And tliese same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? 
 Mine eyes are none o'the best: — III tell you straight 
 
 Kent. If fortune brat; of two she lov'd and hated. 
 One of them we behold. 
 
 Lear. This is a dull sight : Are you not Kent ? 
 
 Kent. The same; 
 
 Y'our servant Kent: Where is your servant Cains j' 
 
 Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that : 
 He'll strike, and quickly too : — He's dead and rotten. 
 
 Kent. No, my good lord ; I am the very man ; — 
 
 Lear. I'll see tiiat straight. 
 
 Kent. Tliat, from your first of difference and decay. 
 Have follovv'd your sad steps. 
 
 Lear. You are welcome hither. 
 
 Kent. Nor no man else ; all's cheerless, dark, anj 
 deadly. — 
 Your eldest daughters havefore-doom'd themselves. 
 And desperately are dead. 
 
 Lear. Ay, so 1 think. 
 
 Alb. He knows not what he says ; and vain it is, 
 That we present us to him. 
 
 Edg, Vei7 bootless. 
 
 Enter an Officer. 
 
 Off. Edmund is dead, my lord. 
 
 Alb. That's but a trifle here.— 
 
 You lords, and noble friends, know our intent. 
 What comfort to this great decay may come. 
 Shall be applied : For ns, we will resign. 
 During the life of this old majesty. 
 To him our absolute power : — V oii, io your rights : 
 
 {To Edgar and Kent.] 
 With boot, and such addition as \ou'- honours 
 Have more than merited. All friends shall taste 
 The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
 The cup of their deservings, — 0, see, see! 
 . Lear. And my poor tool is hang'd ! No nn. no life : 
 Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life. 
 And thou no breath at all '. O, thou wilt come noEiori , 
 Never, never, never, never, never! — 
 Pray you, undo this button : Thank you, sir. — 
 Di) you see tliis ? Look on her, — Icok,— her lips. — 
 Lo<^k there, look there ! — {He diij. 
 
 Edg. He faints ! — My lord, my lord, — 
 
 Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break! 
 
 Edg. Look np, my lor '. 
 
 A'tK^. Vex not his ghost: O let him pass! he liai, s 
 him. 
 That would upon the rack of this tough world 
 Stretch him out longer. 
 
 Edrj. O, he is gone, indeed. 
 
 Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long : 
 He but usurp'd his life. 
 
 Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our preset: 
 business 
 Is general woe. Friends of my soid, you twain 
 
 {To Kent and Edyar. 
 Rule in this realm, and the gor'd slide sustain. 
 
 Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go ; 
 !My master calls, and I must not say, no. 
 
 Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey , 
 Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say ; 
 The oldest hath borne most, we, that are young. 
 Shall never see so much, nor live so long. 
 
 [Exeunt, with a cUad march 
 
L 
 
Q 
 
 o 
 
 « 
 
L 
 
 ?^ 
 
 Tins play is one of the ninst pleejijii; of our autlinr's performances. Tlie scenes are busy and various, tiw inri- 
 dentsuiimermisan.l inipDrtnnt, the calastrophe irresistibly alfectiii^, iind the process of tlie action carrldd oa Willi 
 I'ucli prohafcilitv, H( leas! witli such cimaruitv to popular opinions', as tiasedy recpiires. 
 
 Heje IS one ol tlie few attempts of hhskspeare to exliil)it the cnnversalioii 'of genllenien, to represent the Hirv 
 spnghtliness of juvenile elegance. Mr Dryden mentions a tra.lition, which miclit easily reach his tune, of a decla- 
 ration made by bh^kspeare, that k^ wa>. ohiioe'l In kill M^rcittiu hi the third act, list he s.'iniiM have been killed 
 by him. Yet he thinks hnn no such fo'tnidable persn/i, but that he miqht have lired thrunal' tl" plmi . and died 
 til his bed. without danger to the poet. Drvden well knew, h:;d he been in quest of truth, "in a poin ed senleure, 
 Ihfit more retcard is cuminonly had to (he words than the ihousiit, and (hat it is very seldom to he rigorously understood. 
 ■VlernKio's wit, eaiety and ronrare, will ."Iways procure hiin friends that wish hini a loncer life; bu( his death is not 
 precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the olay; uordo I d.jubt the ability of Shak.-pearo 
 to have contiuueit ms existence, though si me of his sallies are perhaps out of the teach of Diydeu; whose genius was not 
 very lert lie d nitrrinitut, nor ductile to humour; but acute, argumentative, coioprehensi\e, and sublime. 
 
 Ine Pviirse is one ot the ch:irncter-: in which the author delighted: he has. with great suhlility of distinction, 
 urasyn her, at once, loquacious and secel, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest. 
 
 His coimc scenes are happily \vr:)u«lil, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some nnexrected djpra- 
 vatious. His persons, however distressed, Aave a conceit left them in their misery, a uiiserahle cvnceir 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 PEBSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 RSCALUS, Prince of Verona. 
 
 PARIS, a t/ountr Nohlemnii. Kin-iman to the Prince. 
 
 MONTAGUE, > Heads of tvo Houses, at variance with 
 
 CAPULKT, f each other. 
 
 All old Man, Uncle to Capitlet. 
 
 HOMEO. Sojt to Montaaue. 
 
 MERCUTIO, Kinsman to the Prince, (aid Friend to 
 
 Romeo. 
 BENVOLIO Nephew to Montigue, and Friend tu 
 
 Romeo. 
 TYBALT, Nephew to ladv Capnlet. 
 FRIAR LAURENCE, a Franciscan. 
 FRIAR JOHN, of Ike same order. 
 BALTHAZjVR, Servant to Romeo. 
 SAMPSON, > 
 GREGORY, i 
 
 Servants to Capnlet. 
 
 ABRAM. Servant to Montague. 
 
 An Apntheca y. 
 
 Three Musicians. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 Pane to Paris. 
 
 PETER. 
 
 An Officer. 
 
 LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague. 
 LADY CAPULET, Wife to Capidet. 
 JULIET, Daughter to Capulet. 
 Nurse to Juliet. 
 
 Citizens if Verona; several Men and Women, relix- 
 tiiins to both houses ; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, ami 
 Attendants. 
 
 j_.^.v^ivA, J - ^icenaanis. 
 
 ScEyE,—Diirmr/ the greater Part of the Plaij, in Verona; once, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Two honsehol(^.s, both alike in dignity. 
 
 In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
 From ancient uriiJge break to new mutiny. 
 
 Where civil blooiH niake.s civil hands unclean. 
 From forth the fatal loins ofthf.se two foes 
 
 A pair of stars-cross'd lovers take their life ; 
 Whose inisadveutur'd piteous overthrows 
 
 Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. 
 The fearful passage of their death uiark'd love. 
 
 And tlie continuance of their parents' rage, 
 Which, but their children's end, nought could re- 
 move, 
 
 Is now the two hours' traffick of our stage ; 
 The which, if you with patient ears attend, 
 What here shall miss, our toil shall sti-ive to mefad. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ScBNE I. — A public Place. 
 
 Enter Sampson and Gregory, armedivith awards 
 and bucklers. 
 
 Sam. Gregory, o'my word, we'll not carry coals. 
 
 Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. 
 
 Sam. I nuan, an we be in choler, we'll draw. 
 
 (rre. .\)', while you live, draw your neck out of 
 the collar. 
 
 Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. 
 
 Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. 
 
 Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. 
 
 Gre. To move, is — to stir; and to be valiant, is 
 — to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou 
 run'iit avv.iy. 
 
 Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to 
 stand : I svill take the wall of any man or maid of 
 Montague's. 
 
 Gre. That shews thee a weak slave; for the 
 weakest eoes to the wall. 
 
 Satn, True ; and therefore women, being the 
 Weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall ; — there- 
 
 fore I will push Montague's men from the wall, nrvl 
 thrust his maids to the wall. 
 
 Gre. The quarrel is between our master.s, and tw 
 their men. 
 
 Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a ty.)r:f • 
 when I have fought with the men, i will be criiei 
 with the nuiids; I will cut olf their heads. 
 
 Gre. The heads of the maids ? 
 
 Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their 
 miideiilieads ; take it in what sense thou wilt. 
 
 Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. 
 
 Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am ab e to stand : 
 and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesli. 
 
 Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish ; if thou hadst, thou 
 hadst been Poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes 
 two of the house of the Montagues. 
 
 Enter Abram and Balthasar. 
 
 Sap- My naked weapon is out ; quarrel, I will 
 back thee. ^ 
 
 Gre. How? turn thy back, and rim? 
 
 Sam. Fear me not. 
 
 Gre. No, marry ; I fear thee ! [begia 
 
 Sain. Let us take the law of our sides ; let them 
 
 Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let ttieru 
 take it as they list. 
 
 Sam. Nay, as they dare, I will bite my tiiunib 
 at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they 
 bear it. 
 
 Abr. Do you bite your thumb at u.s, sir ? 
 
 Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 
 
 Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say — ay '? 
 
 Gre. No. 
 
 Soiffi. No. sir, I do not bite ray thumb at yoa, 
 sir ; but I bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 Gre, Do you quarrel, sir? 
 
 Abr. (Quarrel, sir? no, sir. 
 
 Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I aerv© as 
 good a man as you. 
 
 Abr. No better. 
 
720 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Sam. VVell, s',!. 
 
 Enter Bentolio, at a distance. 
 
 Gte. Say — better; here comes one of my master's 
 kinsmen. 
 
 Sfon. Yes, better, sir. 
 
 Alir. You lie, 
 
 Sam. Draw, if yon be men.— Gregory, remem- 
 ber thy swashing blow. {They fight.) 
 
 Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you 
 know not what you do. [Beats duwti their swords.) 
 
 Enter Tybalt. 
 Ti/b. What, art thou drawn among these heart- 
 less hinds? 
 Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. 
 
 Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy sword, 
 Or nian<ie;e it to part these men with me. 
 
 Ti/b. What, drawn and talk of peace? I hale 
 the word. 
 As 1 hate liell, all Montagues, and thee: 
 Have at thee, coward. [Theyfiijld.) 
 
 Enter several partizans of both Houses, who join 
 
 the J ray : then enter Citizens, with clubs. 
 
 1 at. Clubs, bills, and partizans ! strike! beat 
 
 them down! [tagues! 
 
 Down with the Capulets! Down with the J\lon-' 
 
 Enter Capulet in his goivn ; and Lady Capvlet. 
 
 Cap. What noise is tliis? — Give me my long 
 
 sword, ho! [a sword r 
 
 La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch I — Why call you foi 
 
 Cap. My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is come, 
 
 And ilourishes his blade in spite of me. 
 
 Enter Montague, and Lady Montague. 
 Man. Thou villain, Capulet, — Hold me not, let 
 me go. [foe. 
 
 La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a 
 
 Enter Prince, with Attendants. 
 
 Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, 
 Profaners of this iieighbour-slained steel, — 
 Will tiiey nut hear? — What, ho! you men, you 
 
 beasts, — 
 That quench the fire of your pernicious rage / 
 
 > With purple foiintain» issuing from your veins. 
 On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 
 Throw 3'OMr uiis-temper'd weapons to the ground, 
 And hear the sentence of your tnuved prince. — 
 Those civii brawls, bred of an airy word. 
 By thee old Capulet, and Montague, 
 H't*e turii;e disturbed the quiet of our streets ; 
 And made Verona's ancient citizens 
 Cast by (heir grave beseeming ornaments, 
 To wield old pattizans, in hands as old, 
 Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate ; 
 If ever you disturb our streets ai;ain. 
 Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 
 For this time, all tlie rest depart away: 
 You, Capulet, sliall go along with lue : 
 And, Montague, come you this afternoon. 
 To know our further pleasure in this case. 
 To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. 
 Oace more, on pain of death, all men depart. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince, and Atfendant.t; Capulet, 
 Lady Capidet, Tybalt, Citizens, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Mon.Wba set this ancient quarrel new abroach? — 
 Speak, nephew, were you by, when it begun? 
 
 Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary- 
 And yours, close fighting ere I did approach : 
 1 dresv to part them; in the instant came 
 The fiery I'ybalt, with his sword prepar'd ; 
 Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, 
 He swung about his head, and cut the winds,* 
 Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn: 
 While we were interchanging thrusts an(l Hous, 
 Came njore and more, and fonght on pai * unJ ^art. 
 Till the prince came, who parted either i vu 
 
 La. Mon. O, vi'here is Romeo ? — saw you him. 
 (o day ? 
 Right glad 1 am, he was not at this fray. 
 
 Bin. Madam, an himr before th? wor.shipp'd sun 
 Peer'd forth the golden window of tlie east, 
 A troubled mind drave me to walk "-.b'-oad ; 
 Where. — underneath the grove of sycamore, 
 That westward rooteth from the city's side,^ 
 So early walking did I see your son: 
 Towards him 1 made ; but he was 'ware of me, 
 And stole into the covert of tlie wood : 
 I, measuring his afl'ections by my own, — 
 Tliat most are busied wlien they are most alone — 
 Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his. 
 And gladly shuoa'd who gladly iied from me. 
 
 Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, 
 With tears augmenting the fresh moraing's dew. 
 Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; 
 But all so soon as the all cheering sun 
 Should in the furthest east begin to draw 
 The shady curtains from Aurora's bed. 
 Away from light steals home my heavy son, 
 And private in his chamber pens himself; 
 Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, 
 And makes himself an artificial night; 
 Black and portentous must this humour prove. 
 Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 
 
 Ben. My noble uncle^ do you know tiie cause ? 
 
 Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. 
 
 Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ? 
 
 Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends: 
 But he, his own atfectioiis' counsellor, 
 Is to himself — I \vill not say, how ti ue — 
 But to himself so secret and so close. 
 So far from sounding and discovery, 
 As is the bud bit with an envious worm. 
 Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air. 
 Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 
 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, 
 We would as willingly give cure as know. 
 
 Enter Romeo, at a distance. 
 
 Ben. See where he comes: So please you, aUy 
 aside ; 
 I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. 
 
 Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, 
 To hear true shnft. — Come, madam, let's awny, 
 
 [Exeunt Montcu/ue and Lady. 
 
 Ben. Good morrow, cousin. 
 
 Rom. Is the day so young ? 
 
 Ben. But new struck nine. 
 
 Rom. Ah me ! sad horrs seem long 
 
 Was that my father Uiat went hence so fast ? 
 
 Ben. It was : — What sadness lengthens Romeo's 
 hours ^ [(hem shr,rt. 
 
 Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes 
 
 Ben. In love ? 
 
 Rom. Out — 
 
 Ben. Of love "^ 
 
 Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. 
 
 Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, 
 Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! 
 
 Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is miiflBed still. 
 Should without eyes, see pathways to his will ! 
 Where shall we dine i — O me! — What fray was 
 
 here ? 
 Vet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 
 Here's much to do with hate, but more with love : — 
 Why then, O brawling love ! O bving hate ! 
 O any thing, of nothing first create i 
 O heavy lightnes.s .' senous vaurty .' 
 Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms ! 
 Feather of l.-ad, bright smoke, cold fire, sick 
 
 health! 
 Still-waking sleep, that is nt.t what it is! — 
 This love feel I, that feci no love in thi» 
 Dost thou not laugti i" 
 
 Ben. No, coz. I fatberweif; 
 
 Rom. Good heart; nt wli;it 
 
 BcTi. At thy good heart's opvre»*i(»' 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 721 
 
 Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. — 
 Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; 
 VV'hich thou wilt propagate, to have it prest 
 With more of thine : this love, that thou hast 
 
 shewn. 
 Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. 
 Love is a smoke, rais'd with the fume of sighs ; 
 IJeing piirg'd, a fire, sparkling in lovers' eyes; 
 Being vex"d. a sea, non-.ish'd with lovers' tears: 
 What is it else ? a madness most discreet, 
 A choaking gall, and a preserving sweet. 
 Farewell, my coz. (Going.) 
 
 Ben. Soft, I will go along; 
 
 An') if yon leave me so. yon do me wrong. 
 
 Bom, T(it, I have lost myself; I am not here ; 
 This is not Uomeo, lie's some other where. 
 Ben. Tell me in sadness, wlio she is you love. 
 Rom. What, .shall I groan, and tell tliee? 
 Ben. Groan i why, no ; 
 
 But sadly fell me, who. 
 
 Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will : — 
 Ah, word ill \\vf.\\ to oue that is so ill ! — 
 In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. _ 
 Ben. I aiin'd so near, when I su|)pos'd you lov'd. 
 Rom. A right good marksman ! — And she's fair 
 
 1 love. 
 Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. 
 Rum. Well in that hit yon miss: she'll not be hit 
 With Cupid's arrow, she liath Dian's wit; 
 And, in strong proof of chastity well arin'd. 
 From love s weak childish bow she lives unharmed. • 
 She will not stay the siege of loving terms. 
 Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 
 Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : 
 O, she is rich in beauty; only poor. 
 That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 
 Bfn. 'J'lien she hath sworn, that she will still live 
 cliaste? [waste; 
 
 Rom, She hath, and in that sparing makes huge ' 
 For beauty, starv'd with her severity. 
 Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 
 She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair. 
 To merit bliss by making nie despair : 
 She hath fcjrsivorn to love; and, in that vow, 
 Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. 
 
 Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. 
 Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. 
 Ufn. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ; 
 Examine other beauties. ^ 
 
 Rom. 'Tis the way 
 
 To call lier's, exquisite, in question more : 
 These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows. 
 Being black, put us in mind tliey hide the fair; 
 He, that is struck blind, cannot forget 
 'llie precious treasure of his eyesight lost: 
 Shew me a mistress, that is passing fair. 
 What doth her beauty serve, but as a note, 
 Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair? 
 Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. 
 Ben, I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. 
 
 [E.veimt. 
 Scene II. — A Street. 
 Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. 
 
 Cap. .'^nd Montague is bound, as well as I, 
 III penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard, I think. 
 For men so old as we to keep the peace. 
 
 Par. Of lionourabie reckoning are you both ; 
 And pity "tis, you lived at odds so long. 
 But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? 
 
 Ca/>. But saying o'er what I li.ive said before : 
 My cliild is yet a stranger in the world. 
 Sue hath not seen the change of fourteen years; 
 Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
 Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 
 
 Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. 
 
 Cap. And too soon uiarr'd aie those so early 
 made. 
 'llf earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, 
 Srie IS the hopeful lad) of my earth:' 
 
 But woo her, gentle Paris, get her hean, 
 
 My will to her consent is but a part; 
 
 An she agree, within her scope of choice 
 
 Lies my consent and fair according voice. 
 
 This night I hold nu old accustom'd feast, 
 
 Whereto I have invited many a guest. 
 
 Such as I lo\e ; and you, among the store. 
 
 One more, most welcome, makes my number more. 
 
 At my poor house look to behold this night 
 
 Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaveu light 
 
 8'ich comfort, as do lusty young men feel. 
 
 When well apparell'd April on the heel 
 
 Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
 
 Among fresh female buds shall you this night 
 
 Inherit at my house ; hear all, all .see. 
 
 And like her most, whose merit most shall be : 
 
 Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one. 
 
 May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 
 
 Come, go \yith me : — Go, sirrah, trudge about 
 
 Through fair Verona ; find those persons out, 
 
 Whose names are written there, {Gives a paper.) 
 
 and to them say, 
 My house and welcome on their pleasure stay, 
 
 [Exeinii Capulet / vd Parh, 
 Serv. Find them out, whose names are written 
 here :* It is written — that the shoemaker shcuild 
 meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, 
 the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his 
 net; but I am sent to find those persons, whose 
 names are here writ, and can never find what names 
 the writing person hath here writ. I must to the 
 learned : — In good time. 
 
 Enter Benvolio awo? Romeo. 
 
 Ben. Tut, man I one fire burns out anotherV 
 buniing, 
 
 One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; 
 Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; 
 
 One desperate grief cures with another's lan- 
 guish : 
 Take thou some new infection to thy eye. 
 And the rank poison of the old will die. 
 
 Rom. Your plaintain leaf is excellent for that. 
 
 Ben. For what, I pray thee i 
 
 Rom. For your broken shin. 
 
 Ben. Whj', Romeo, art thou mad ? 
 
 Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: 
 Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 
 Wliipp'd, and tormented, and — Good-e'en, good 
 fellow. [read *" 
 
 Sert.}. God gi' good-e'en. — I pray, sir, can yon 
 
 Rotn. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 
 
 Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: 
 But I pray, can you read any thing you see? 
 
 Rom. Ay, if 1 know the letters, and the language. 
 
 Serv. \ e say honestly ; Rest you merry ! 
 
 Rom. Stay, fellow : 1 can read. (Reads.) 
 
 Sif/nor Martina, and his ivife, and dauyhlers ; 
 County Anselme, and /lis beauteou.t sisters ; The 
 lady widoiv oj' Vitriivio; Siynor Placentiv. and 
 his lovely nieces ; Mercutio, and his brotlier 
 Valentine ; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and 
 daujftters ; My fair niece Rosaline ; Livia ; 
 Sirjnior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, 
 and the lively Helena. 
 
 A fair assembly ; ( Gives bach the note. ) Whither 
 should they come :" 
 
 Serv. Up. 
 
 Rom. Whither? 
 
 Serv. To supper ; to our house. 
 
 Rom. Whose house ? 
 
 Serv. My master's. 
 
 Rotn. Indeed. 1 should have asked you that before. 
 
 Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking : My 
 master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not 
 of tlie house of Montagues, I pray, couie and crwsh 
 a cup of wine. Rest you nierry. [Exit. 
 
 Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capiilet's 
 Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lo»'st ; 
 \V ith all tlie admired beauties of Verona : 
 
 lo 
 
ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Go thither; and, with iinaftaiiited eye, 
 Compare lier face with S( na- tliat I .siiall shew, 
 AbH I \\i'l make thee think tliy swan a crow. 
 
 Pom. When the desoiit leliaion nl "mine eye 
 
 Maiiitiiiiis sncli falsehood, then turn tears to fires ! 
 And tl>ese, — who, often drown'd, ronld ne\er die, — 
 
 'I'raiisparent heretics, be burnt forhars! 
 One fairer than tny )ove ! the all seeing sun 
 Ne'er saw her match, since first the worhi hegnn. 
 
 Ben. Tnt I yon saw her fair, none else being fay. 
 Herself pois'd with herself in either eye : 
 But in those crystal s.aies, let there be weigh'd 
 Yotir lady's lo\ e ag-ainst some other maid 
 That 1 will shew yon, shining at this feast, 
 And she shall scant shew well, thai now slievvsbest. 
 
 Itom. I'll go along, no snch sight to be shewn. 
 But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunf. 
 
 Scene U!.— .-1 Roo?n in Cajndet\i Hoitse. 
 Enter Ladi/ Capi'ixt and 'Surse. 
 La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daui^hter ? call her 
 
 lorth to nie. 
 Nurse. Now, by niy timidenhend, — at twelve 
 year old, — 
 I haile her come. — What, lamb ! wliat. iady-hird ! — 
 God forbid 1— Where's this girl "I'—wliKt Juliet! 
 
 Enl<;r JuLIET. 
 
 Jul. How now, who calls? 
 
 Nurse. Your mother. 
 
 Ju/, Madatn, 1 am here. 
 
 VVhitt is your will ? _ [awhile. 
 
 La Cn'p. This is the matter: — Nurse, give leave 
 We must tilk in secret. — Nurse, come back again; 
 I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. 
 Thou know'.st my daughter's of a pretty age. 
 
 Nurse. 'Faith', I can tell her age unto an hour. 
 
 La. Cap. She's not fourteen. 
 
 Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth. 
 
 And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, — 
 She is not fourteen ; how long is it now 
 To Lunmas-tide '/ 
 
 Ln Cap. A forfniglit, and odd days. 
 
 Nurse. Kven or odd, of all days in the year, 
 Come Ijatnnias-eve at night, shall she be fouiteeii. 
 Susan and she, — God^rest all Christian soids I — 
 Were of an age. — Well, Suzan is with God ; 
 She was too good for me : But, as I said. 
 On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ; 
 'J'hat shall she, marry ; I remember it well, 
 "lis since the earthquake now eleven years ; 
 And she was wean'd, — I never shall forget it, — 
 Of all the days of the year, upon that day : 
 For I had then laid wormwood to my dug. 
 Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, 
 My lord and you were tJien at Mantua : — 
 N ay, 1 do bear a brain : — but, as I said. 
 When it did taste the >vormwood on the nipple 
 Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool ! 
 To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. 
 Shake, quoth the dove-house : 'twas no need, I trow. 
 To bid me trudge. 
 
 And since that time it is eleven years : 
 For tlien «he could stand alone ; nay, by the rood. 
 She could have run and waddled all about 
 For even the day before, she broke her brow : 
 And then my husband — God be with his soul ! 
 'A was a meriy man : — took np the child : 
 Yea. quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face ? [wit; 
 Thou ivilt fall backward, when thou hast more 
 WUt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy dam. 
 The pretty wretch left crying, and said — Ai/ : 
 To see now, how a jest shall come about! 
 I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, 
 I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? 
 
 quoth he : 
 And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said. — Ay. 
 
 La Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy 
 
 peace, [laugh. 
 
 Nurse, Yes, madam; yet I cannot choose but 
 
 To think it should leave crying, and say — Ay. 
 
 And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow 
 
 A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone', 
 
 A parlous knock ; and it cried bitterly. 
 
 Yea, quoth my Vn^shand, fall s( upon thy face? 
 
 Thou wil I fall backivard, iihen tlimi cutii'st to cujti; 
 
 Witt thou not, Jule't it stinted, and said — Ay. 
 
 Jid, And stint ihou too, 1 pray thee, nurse, say I. 
 
 Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to 
 his grace ! 
 Thou wast the prettiest babi that e'er I nurs'd: 
 An I miglifrlive to see thee married once, 
 1 have my wish. 
 
 La Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme 
 I came to talk of: — 'I'ell me, daughter Juliet, 
 How stands jour disposition to be married i 
 
 Jul. It is an honour ! that I dream not of. 
 
 Nurse. An honour! were not 1 thine only nurse, 
 I'd say, thou had'st surk'd wisdom from thy teat. 
 
 La Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger 
 than you, 
 Here in Veiona, ladies of esteem, 
 Are made already mothers : by my count, 
 I was your mother much upon these years 
 That you are now a nraid. Thus then, in brief;— 
 The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. 
 
 Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man. 
 As all the world — Why, he's a man of wax. 
 
 La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. 
 
 Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. 
 
 La. Cop. VVhat say you '? can you love the gen- 
 tleman';' I 
 This night you shall behold him at our feast; 
 Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face. 
 And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; 
 Examine every married lineament, 
 .■^nd see how one another lends content; 
 And whatobscur'd in this fair volume lies. 
 Find written in the margin of his eyes. 
 This precious book' of love, this unbound lover, 
 "J'o beautify him, only lacks a cover: 
 The fish lives in the sea ; and 'tis much pride. 
 For fair without the fair within to hide : 
 That book in niany's eyes doth share the glory, 
 That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; 
 So shall you share all that he doth po.'isess, 
 By having him, making yourself no less. 
 
 Nurse. No less V nay, bigger; women grow by 
 men. 
 
 La.Cap. Sjieak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? 
 
 Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: 
 But no more deep will I endart mine eye, 
 Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Serv. Madam, the guests are come, sunper serv- 
 ed up, you called, my .young lady asked for, the 
 nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in ex- 
 tremity. 1 must hence to wait; 1 beseech you, 
 follow straight. 
 La. Cap. We follow thee. — Juliet, the comity 
 stays. [days. 
 
 Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy 
 
 [Exeujtt. 
 Scene IV. — A Street. 
 Enter Romeo, Mercltio, Benvolio, with Jive 
 or six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and other's. 
 Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for oui 
 excuse ? 
 Or .shall we on without apology? 
 
 Ben. The date is out of such prolixity : 
 We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf. 
 Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, 
 Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; 
 Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke 
 After the prompter, for our entrance : 
 But, let them measure us by what they will, 
 We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. 
 Rom. Give me a torch.— I am not for tois sni 
 bling; 
 
Scene o. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 723 
 
 15einff but heavy, I will bear the lisht. 
 Mer, Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you 
 
 dance. 
 liom. Not I, beiif ve nie : you have dnncing shoes, 
 With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead, 
 Sij stakes me to the ground, I cannot mo\e. 
 
 Met: You area lo\er; borrow Ciiijids wings, 
 And soar with tliem above a coiinrion bound. 
 
 Rom. \ am too sure etnpit reed with his shaft, 
 I'o soar with his light featiiers; iind so bo'ind, 
 ! cannot hoiiud a pitch above did! woe • 
 1. iidt-r lo\e':i heavy burden do I sink. 
 
 Mer. And. to sink in it, should you burden love ; 
 Tjo ijreat oppression Cora tender (hiiig-. 
 
 /io/ii. Is lo\e a tender thinR':' it is too rough, 
 I'on rude, too boisfrons ; an.d it pricks like thorn. 
 Mer. irio\e be rough wi^h you, be rough with 
 love ; 
 Prick love for pr.'cking, ^nd you beat love down. — 
 (;i\e me a case to put my visage in. 
 
 {Puttitiff on a mask.) 
 A \ isor for a visor '—what care I, 
 What ciirijus eyf doth quote deformities? 
 Here are the bfetle-brows, shall blush for me. 
 
 Ufrt. Come, knock, and enter : and no sooner in, 
 But e^ery man betake him to his legs. 
 
 Iiom. A torch for me : let wantons, light of heart, 
 TiVkle tlie senseless rushes with their heels; 
 for I ain proverb'd with a grandsire (ilirase, — • 
 I'll be a candle holder, and look on. — 
 The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. 
 
 Mer. Tut \ dun's the mouse, the constable's own 
 word : 
 ff thou art dim, we'll draw thee from the mire 
 Of this ( save reverence ) lo\e, wherein thou stick'st 
 Up to the pars. — Come, we burn day-light, ho. 
 Rom. Nay, that's not so. 
 
 Mer. I mean, sir, in delay 
 
 \\ V waste our lights in vniti, like lamps by day. 
 'I'ake <mr good ineaiiing ; for our judgment sits 
 l'"i\ H times in that, ere once in oui- five wits. 
 
 Rom. .And we mean well, in going to this mask ; 
 But 'tis no wit to go. 
 
 Mfr. \\'\\\, may one ask '? 
 
 Rom. I dreamt a dream to iiijjht. 
 Mfr. And so did I. 
 
 Ro»). Well, what was your's'^ 
 Mtr. 'Ihat dreamers olten lie. 
 Ruin. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things 
 true. [you. 
 
 Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with 
 She is the fairies' niidwite; and she comes 
 In she.jie no bigger than an agate-stone 
 On the forefinger of an alderman. 
 Drawn with a team ot little atomies 
 .\ths\art men's noses as they lie asleep : 
 Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; 
 The covt-r, of the wings ol' grasshoppers; 
 The trnces. oi (he smallest spider's web; 
 'I'hf codars, ol tlie moonshine's watery beams : 
 Her whip, of cricket's bi.ne; the lash, of film: 
 Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat. 
 Not hall so big as a round little worm 
 I'rick'd from the lazy tiiiger ol a maid : 
 Her chariot is an empty h zel-niit, 
 .Made liy the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 
 'I'iiiie out of mind tlie tairies coach makers. 
 .\iid ill this state she gallops night by night 
 'i'hroiigh lover's brains, and tlien they dream of 
 
 \«\e ; 
 On courtiers' knees, that dream on conrt'sies straight : 
 O'er lawyers' tingers, wlio straight dream on fees : 
 O'er ladies' lips, wlio straight on kisses dream ; 
 ^\ Inch (lit the angry Mab witii blisters plagues, 
 Bfcatise t.ieir hrtntlis with sweet meats tainted are. 
 Somt-tiines she gallnps o'er a courtier^ no.se. 
 And then dieanis he ot smelling out a suit: 
 Aiid soiiit-tiiiit-s coint-R slie with a titlf-pig's tail, 
 Tii khii„ a paison's iiiLse as 'a lies asleep, 
 ) hen rireaius he of aui.thcr beiietite: 
 
 Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck 
 And then dreams he of cutting foreign tliroata 
 Of breaches, anibiiscadoes, Spanish blades ' 
 Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon 
 Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakea • 
 And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two * 
 And sleeps again. 'J'iiis is that very ]\Inb, 
 'J'hat plats the manes of horses in tlie night; 
 And bakes the elf-locks in foul slutti.sh hairs, 
 Which, once untangled, much misl'urtiine bodes. 
 This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
 That presses them, and learns flieni first to bear, 
 Making them women of good carriage. 
 This, this is she — 
 
 Bom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace 
 
 Thou talk'st of nothing. 
 
 Mer. True. I talk of dreams; 
 
 Which are the children of an idle brain, 
 Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; 
 Wliich is as thin of substance as the air ; 
 And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
 Even now the frozen bosom of the north. 
 And, being anger'd, piiils away from thence. 
 Turning his face to the dew-drouping south. 
 
 Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our- 
 selves ; 
 Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 
 
 Horn. 1 tear, too early : for my mind mi.sgives. 
 Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, 
 Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
 With tlys night's revels ; and expire the term 
 Ol'a de.spised life, clos'd in my breast. 
 By some vile forfeit of untimely death : 
 But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
 Diivct my sail I — On, lusty gentlemen. 
 Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene Y.—A Hall in Capnlet's House. 
 Musicians tvaiting. Enter Servants. 
 
 1 Serv. VVHiere's Potpan, that he helps not to take 
 away ':" he shift a trencher ! he scrape a trencher! 
 
 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one 
 or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a 
 foul thing. 
 
 1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, iemo\e the 
 cnurt-cupbcard, look to the plate : — good thou, 
 save me a piece of marchpane ; and as thuu lowest 
 me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and 
 Nell. — Antony I and Potpan ! 
 
 2 Serv. Ay, boy ; ready. 
 
 1 Serv. Voii are looked for, iind called for, asked 
 for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 
 
 2 Serv. \V'e cannot be here and there, too. — 
 Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer 
 liver take all. [They retire behind.) 
 
 Enter Capulet, §•<?. %cith the Guests, and tha 
 Maskers. 
 
 Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have 
 their toes 
 Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you : — 
 Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all 
 Will now deny to dance? she, that makes dainty, she, 
 I'll swear hath corns; Am I come near yon now i 
 Vou are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day. 
 That 1 have worn a visor; and could tell 
 A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear. 
 Such as would please ; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis 
 gone : [play. 
 
 You are welcome, gentlemen ! — Come, tnasiciaus, 
 A hall ! a hall ! give room, and foot it, girl.s. 
 
 ( Music plays, and they dance.) 
 More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, 
 .^lld quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.— 
 Ah. sirrah, this nnlook'd for sport comes well. 
 Nay, sit, nay, sit, good coL'sin Capulet ; 
 For you and I are past our dancing davs*. 
 How long is't now, since last yourseif and I 
 Were in a mask? 
 
 •J Cap By'r lady, thirty years. 
 
724 
 
 ROMEO AND J.ULTET. 
 
 Act it. 
 
 1 Cap. What, man! 'lis not so much, 'tis not 
 so niiich: 
 'Tjs since tlie nuptial of Lucentio, 
 r.oi:ie (.eiilpcosl as qinckly as it will, 
 Some live and twenty years; and tlien we mask'd. 
 'i Cnp. "I"is more, 'tis more : his son is elder, sir ; 
 His si»n is tiiirty. 
 
 1 Cap. Will yon tell me that? 
 
 His son was bat a witrd two years ago. [hand 
 
 Rum, What lady's tiiat, wiiich doth enrich the 
 Of yoii.ler knight? 
 Serv. I know nut, sir. 
 
 Rom. O, slie doth teach the torches to born bright I 
 H.-r beauty han>:;s upon the cheek of night 
 Ijike a rich jewtl in an Ethiiip"s ear: 
 Beauty too ricii for nse, for earth too dear! 
 So shews a siimvy dove troopinjf with crows, 
 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shews. 
 'J'l\e measure done, I'll watch her place of stand. 
 And, tonchinR hers, make happy my rude hand. 
 Did my iieart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
 For I ne'er s:»w trne beauty till this night. 
 
 Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montagne : — 
 Fetcli me my rapier, boy. — Wliat! dares the slave 
 Come hither, cover'd with an aniick face, 
 'I'o fleer and scorn at otir solemmty ? 
 Now, by the stock and hononr of my kin, 
 To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 
 
 1 Cap. Wliy, Jiow now, kinsman ? wlierefore 
 
 storm yon so? | 
 
 Tyb. Uncle, tiiis is a Montagne, onr foe : . | 
 A villain, that u liitlniT came in spite, ( 
 
 To scoiii at onr solemnity this niglit. 
 
 1 Cap. Young Romeo is't ? I 
 
 7'yi. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. \ 
 
 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz. let him alone, I 
 He bears him like a portly gentleman ; I 
 
 Awl, to say truth, Verona brags of hini, 
 To be a virtnons and well-govern'd youth: 
 I woidd not, for the wealth of all this town, 
 Here in my house, do him disparagement; / 
 
 'I'hereforebe patient, tike no note of him. 
 It is my will ; the which if tiion respect, 
 Siiew a fair pres'-nce, and putotftliese frowns. 
 An ill-beseeming semblance ibr a (east. 
 
 Tyb, It fits, when such a villain is a guest; 
 I'll lint endure him. 
 
 1 Cap. He sliall be endur'd : 
 
 What, goodman boy! — I say, he shall ; — Go to; — 
 Am I the master here, or you '. g<i to. 
 You'll nut endure hiin ! — God shall mend my soul— 
 You'll make a mutiny among my guests! 
 Yon will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man I 
 Ttjb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. 
 1 Cap. ' Go io, go to. 
 
 Yon are a saucy boy : — Is't so, indeed ? — 
 This trick may chance to scathe you ; — I know what. 
 You must contrary me ! marry, 'tis tinie — 
 Well said, my hearts : — You are a princox ; go : — 
 l?e fjuiet, or — More light, more light, for siiame ! — 
 I'll make you quiet; VV'iiat! — Cheerly, my hearts. 
 
 Tyb. Patience perforce witli wilful choler meeting. 
 Makes my flesh tremble in their diireifiit greeting. 
 I will withdraw: but this intrnsion shall, 
 Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit, 
 Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand 
 
 {To Juliet.) 
 This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, — 
 My liiis, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 
 
 To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. 
 Jul, Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too 
 much. 
 Which mannerly devotion shews in this ; 
 For saints have hands, that pilgrims' hands do 
 couch. 
 And paiin to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 
 Rom, Have n t saints lips, and lioly palmers too ? 
 Jui. Av. pilgrim, lips, that they must use in 
 prayer. Ido j 
 
 Rom. O then, dear saint, let lijis'do what hands 
 
 They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to des 
 
 pair. |sake> 
 
 Jul, Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' 
 
 Rum. Tlien move not, while my prayer's ellVcl 
 
 I take. 
 
 Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. 
 
 {Kissiriij her.) 
 
 Jul. Then have my lips the sin tliat they have 
 
 took. [urg'd.' 
 
 Rom. S\n from my lips? O trespass sweetly 
 
 Give me my sin again. . 
 
 J>'l- You kiss by the book. 
 
 Nurse, Mad-\m, your mother craves a word 
 
 with yon. 
 Rom, Wliat is her mother^ 
 Nurse, Marry, bachelor. 
 
 Her mother is the lady of the house. 
 And a s'.ood lady, and a vv\se, ani\ virtuous : 
 1 nurs'd her daughter, liiat jou talk'd withal; 
 I tell you, — he, that can lay hold of Ker, 
 Shall have the chinks. 
 
 Rom, Is she a C»pulet? 
 
 dear account ! my life is my foe's debt. 
 Ben. Away, begone ; the sport is at the^^est. 
 Rom, Ay, so I lear; the more is my unrest. • 
 
 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not lu be gone: 
 We have a fntling foolish banquet towards. — 
 Is it e'en so? Wiiy, then I tliank you all : 
 
 1 thank you, honest gentlemen ; good nigiit :— 
 More torches here ! — Come on, then let's to be<J. 
 Ah, sirrah, (To 2 Cap.) by my fay, it waxes lute; 
 I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurst. 
 
 Jul. Come hitlier, nurse : What is yon gentleman' 
 
 Nurse. The son and lieir of old Tiberio. 
 
 Jul. Wliafs he, that now is going out of door? 
 
 Nurse. Marry, that, i think, be yonng Petruchio. 
 
 Jul. What's lie, that follows there, that would 
 not dance ? 
 
 Nzirse, I know not. 
 
 Jul. Go, ask his name: — if he be married. 
 My gra\e is like to be my wedding bed. 
 
 Nur.se. His name is Romeo, and a Montague ; 
 The only son of your great enemy. 
 
 Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! 
 Too early seen unknown, and known too late! 
 Prodigious birth of love it is to me. 
 That I must love a loathed enemy. 
 
 Nurse. What's this? what's tliis? 
 
 Jul, A rhyme I learn'd even now 
 
 Of one I danc'd withal. (O/ze calls within, J ahet.) 
 
 Nurse, Anon, anon : — 
 
 Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Chorus, 
 
 Now old desire doth in his death-bed I'-e, 
 
 And young atl'ection gapes to be his heir; 
 That fair, wliich love groan'd Ibr, and would die, 
 
 With tender Juliet match'd, is now not lain 
 Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, 
 
 Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; 
 But to this foe snppos'd he must com|)lain, 
 
 And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful 
 hooks : 
 Being held a foe, he may not have access 
 
 To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; 
 And she as much in love, her means much' less 
 
 To meet her new-beloved any where : 
 But passion lends them power, time means to meet, 
 Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. 
 
 ACT If. 
 
 Scene I. — An open Place, adjoining Capulet's 
 Garden. 
 
 Enter RoMEO. 
 
 Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here? 
 Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. 
 
 {He climbs the wall, and leaps down within. ) 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIEl 
 
 725 
 
 Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. 
 
 HtH. Kouieo I my cousin Iloiiieo ! 
 
 Mer. He is wise ; 
 
 And, on niy life, liafh stolen iiim home to bed. 
 
 Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this oichaid 
 Call, £:ood Mercutio. [wall: 
 
 Mer. Nay, TU conjure too. — 
 
 Jlonieo! hiimonrs! madman ! passion ! lover! 
 Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh. 
 Speak but one rhyme, and i am satisfied ; 
 Cry but — Ah me ! couple but — love and dove ; 
 Speak to my gossip Venus one (iiir word. 
 One nickname for her purblind son and heir, 
 Yonng Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim. 
 When kim; Coplietna lo\'d the begf;ar-uiaid. — 
 He lieareth not. stirreth not, he nioveth not ; 
 The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.^- 
 I conjine tliee by Rosidine's bright eyes. 
 By her high tbiehead. and her scarlet lip. 
 By her fine toot, stiaight leg, and quivering thigh. 
 And the demesnes that there adjacent lie. 
 That in thy likeness thou appear to us. 
 
 /if/?. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. 
 
 Mer. This lannot anger him: 'twould anger liira 
 To raises spirit in his unstress" circle 
 Of some stranye nature, letting it there stand, 
 'i'il! she had laid it. and conjur'd it'dovvn^ 
 'Ihat were some spite : my invocation 
 fs fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name, 
 I conjure only but to raise up liiiu. [trees, 
 
 Ben. Come, he hatli hid iiiu)self among those 
 To be consorted with the iiuniourous night : 
 Blind is his Idve, and l>est befits tiie daik. 
 
 Mer. Il'iove be b;ind. love camiol hit the mark. 
 Nov\ will he sit nniler a medlar tree, 
 .And wisli liis mistress were that kind of fruit, 
 As maids call uit-dhirs. wh^n they laugh alone. — 
 Uonieo, sjond night : — III to my truckle-bed; 
 This (it Id-bed is too cold for me to sleep : 
 Come, shall we go i 
 
 Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain 
 
 To seek him here, that means not to be found. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Capulet's Garden. 
 
 Enter Komeo. 
 
 Ro7n. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. 
 [Juliet appears (ibo»e, at a tvindow.) 
 But, Soft! wiiat light through yonder window 
 
 breaks ! 
 ft is the east. an<l Juliet is the sun I — 
 Arise, fair sun. amj kill the envious moon, 
 \Vi«i is already sick and pale with griet. 
 That thou her maid art far more IJiir tiian she: 
 Be no! her maid, since she is invioiis: 
 Her vesta! liveiy is but sick and gref ii, 
 .And none but fools do wear it; cast it off — 
 ft is my lady ; O, it is my love. 
 O, that she knew she were! — 
 She speaks yel she says nothing; What of that? 
 Her eye discourses, 1 will answer it. — 
 1 am t<io bold, 'lis not to me she speaks: 
 Two of the (airest stars in all the heaven. 
 Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
 To twinkle in their spherfs till they return. 
 IVha^ if her eyes wepe there, they in her head? 
 The brightness of her cheek would shame those 
 
 stars, 
 As daylight doth a lauip; her eye in heaven 
 Would through the airy region stream so bright. 
 That birds would sing, and think it were not night. 
 Sf-e, li;iw she leans her cllt-ek iipcui her hand! 
 (), thai I were a yloxe npim that hand, 
 'i'hat I might touch that cheek ! 
 
 ./'</. Ah me ! 
 
 ilatn. She speaks : — 
 
 O, spertli again, briglit angf-l ! for thou art 
 Asgionoiis to this niaht. being o'er my head. 
 As is a vvingtd messenger of heaven 
 
 Unto the white-upturned vvond'ring eyes 
 
 Of mortals, that full back to gaze on him. 
 
 When he bestrides the lazy- pacing cloiid'a, 
 
 And sails upon the bosom of the air, [nieo? 
 
 Jul. U Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Ro- 
 Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: 
 Or, if ihou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 
 And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 
 
 Rom. Shall 1 hear more, or shall I speak at this '^ 
 
 r 7 r„. L {Anide.) 
 
 Jul. '1 IS but thv name, that is my enemy ; — 
 Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. 
 What's Montague ? it is nor hand, nor foot. 
 Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
 Belonging to a man. O, be some other name? 
 W^hat's in a name ? that, which we call a rose, 
 By any other name would smell as sweet; 
 So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 
 Retain that dear perfection which he owes, 
 Without that title : — Romeo, dofl" thy name ; 
 And lor that name, which is no part of thee. 
 Take all myself, 
 
 Rom. I take thee at thy word : 
 
 Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd ; 
 Henceforth I never will be Romeo, 
 
 Jul. VN'hat man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd io 
 night, 
 So sfumblest on my counsel? , 
 
 Rom. By a name 
 
 I know not how to tell thee who I am : 
 My name, dear saint, is hatefail to myself, 
 B<-cause it is an enemy to thee ; 
 Had I it wri(ten, 1 would tear the word. 
 
 Jttl. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 
 Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; 
 Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? 
 
 Ror?i. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike, 
 
 Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me ? and 
 wherefore ? 
 The orchard w;dls are high, and hard to climb; 
 And the place death, considering who thou art, 
 If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 
 
 Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch 
 these walls : 
 For stony limits cannot hold love out: 
 And what love can do, that dares love attempt; 
 Therefore ihy kinsmen are no let to me. 
 
 Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 
 
 Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, 
 Than twenty of their swords ; look thou but sweet. 
 And I am proof against their enmity. 
 
 Jtil. 1 would not for the world, they saw thee 
 here. [sight; 
 
 Rom. 1 have night's cloak to hide me from their 
 And, but thou love me, let them find me here : 
 My life were better ended by their hate. 
 Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 
 
 Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this 
 place ? [quire ; . 
 
 Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to in 
 He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
 I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far 
 As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 
 I would adventure for such merchandise. [face; 
 
 Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my 
 Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek. 
 For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
 Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
 What I have spoke ; but farewell compliment ! 
 Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say — Ay; 
 And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, 
 Thou may'st | rove false; at lovers" perjuries. 
 They say, .love laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
 If (liou dnst love, pronounce it laithfully : 
 Or if thou tliiiik'st 1 am too quickly won, 
 I'll frown, and be perverse, and say tfiee nay. 
 So thiui wilt woo; but, else, not fur the worla. 
 In Iriitli, fair Montague, I am too fond: 
 And therelore thou may'st think my haviour light; 
 But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
 
72() 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Than those that have more cnnnini; to be straiiije. 
 ! should have been more strange, 1 must coiiless, 
 Hut that thou overlieard'st, ere 1 was waie, 
 Aly true love's passion ; therei'ore pardon me ; 
 And not impute this yielding to light love, 
 Which the dark niglit hath so discovered. 
 
 Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon 1 swear. 
 That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,— 
 
 Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
 moon, 
 That monthly changes in her circled orb, 
 Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 
 
 Rom. What shall I swear by ? 
 
 Jul. Oo not sweur at all ; 
 
 Or, ilthou wilt, swear by thy gracious self. 
 Which is the god of my idolatry. 
 And I'll believe thee. 
 
 Rotn. If my heart's dear love — 
 
 Jul. Well, do not swear : although i joy in thee, 
 I have no joy of this contract to-night : 
 It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden ; 
 Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
 Ere one can say— It lightens. Sweet, good night ! 
 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath. 
 May prove a beauteous flower, whea next we meet. 
 Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest 
 Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! 
 
 Rom. O, wiit thou leave me so unsatisfied? 
 
 Jul. What satisfactiiiU canst thou have to-night? 
 
 Rom. The exchanye of thy love's faithful vow for 
 mine. , 
 
 Jul. I gave thee mine before thou did'st request it: 
 Anil yet I would it were to give again. 
 
 Rom. Wonld'sl thou withdraw it? for what pur- 
 pose, love? 
 
 Jul. But to bt- frank, and give it thee again. 
 .\mi yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
 My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
 My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
 Tiie more I have, for both are infinite. 
 
 [Nurse calls within.) 
 I hear some noise within : Dear love, adieu ! 
 Anon, good nurse! — Sweet Montague, be true. 
 Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. 
 
 Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, 
 lieing in night, all this is but a dream. 
 Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
 
 Re-enter iviAKV, above. 
 Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, 
 indeed. 
 If that thy bent of love be honourable, 
 Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow 
 By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 
 Where, and what time, tliou wilt perfiuin the rite ; 
 And all (ny fortunes at thy foot I'll hiy, 
 And lollow thee, my lord, throughout the world. 
 Nurse. {Within.) Madam! [well, 
 
 Jul. I come atiou : — But if thou mean'st not 
 I do beseech thee, — 
 
 Nurse. [Within.) Madam! 
 
 Jul. By arid by, I come : — 
 
 To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
 To-nimrow will 1 send. 
 
 Roiii. So thrive my soul, — 
 
 Jul. A thousand times good night I [Exit. 
 
 Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want tliv 
 imht.— 
 Love goes toward love, as school-boys f om their 
 
 books ; 
 But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 
 
 [Retiring slowly.) 
 
 Re-enter Juliet, above. 
 
 Jul. Hist ! Romeo, hist I — O, for a falconer's 
 voice. 
 To lure this tassel gentle back again! 
 Hond.i;;e is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
 Else would I tear the cave where eclio li.s. 
 Ana uialLe her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
 
 Willi re|)etition of my Romeo's name. 
 
 Rum. It IS my soul, that calls upon my name: 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues Dy night. 
 Like softest music to attending ears I 
 
 Jul. Romto ! 
 
 Rom. My sweet ! 
 
 J«/.' At what o'clock to-morrow 
 
 Shall I send to thee? 
 
 Rom. At the hour of nine. 
 
 Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then 
 1 have forjrot why I did call thee bark. 
 
 Rom. Let mc stand here, till thou remember it, 
 
 Jul. I shall forget, to have thee stilt stand theie, 
 Rememb'ring how 1 love thy company. 
 
 Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 
 Forijetting any other home but this. (gone : 
 
 Jnl. 'Tis almost morning, 1 would have tiiee 
 And yet no further than a wanton's bird ; 
 Who lets it hop a little from her hand. 
 Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves. 
 And with a silk tliiead plucks it back again, 
 So loving-jealous of his liberty. 
 
 Rom. 1 would, I were thy bird. 
 
 Jul. Sweet, so would i : 
 
 Yet i should kill thee with much cherishing. 
 Oood nii'ht, good night ! parting is such sweet 
 
 sorrow. 
 That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in tn> 
 breast ! — 
 'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to re.sl I 
 Hence will I to my- ghostly father's cell ; 
 His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Ex.!. 
 
 Scene III. — Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 Enter Friar Laurence, tvith a basket. 
 Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowni i; 
 
 Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks oi ligl.t . 
 
 And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels 
 
 From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's w heel-: ; 
 
 Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
 
 The day to cheer, and night's darik dew to dry, 
 
 I must up-fill this osier cage of ours. 
 
 With baleful weeds, and precious juiced flowers. 
 
 The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; 
 
 What is her burying grave, that is her womb : 
 
 And (roni her womb children of divers kind 
 
 We sucking on her natural bosom find; 
 
 Many lor many virtues excellent. 
 
 None but for some, and yet all different. 
 
 O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies 
 
 In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities : 
 
 For nought so vile, that on the earth doth live 
 
 But to the earth some special good doth give; 
 
 Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use. 
 
 Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : 
 
 Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; 
 
 And vice sometime's by action dignihed. 
 
 Within the infant rind of this small flower 
 
 Poison hath residence, and med'cine power 
 
 For this, buing smelt, with that part cheers eaidi 
 
 part; 
 Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
 Two such opposed foes encamp them still 
 In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude wilU; 
 And, where the worser is predominant. 
 Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 
 
 Enter RoMEO. 
 
 Rom. Good morrow, father! 
 
 Fri. Benedicite ! 
 
 What early tongue so sweet saluteth me'^ — 
 V oiing son, it argues a distemper'd head. 
 So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed : 
 Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 
 And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; 
 But where unbriiised youth with uiistuifd brain 
 Doth couch his limb.s, theie golden sleep doth reiiiu : 
 
SCK\E 4. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 727 
 
 Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, 
 Thou art up roiis'd by some distemp'rature; 
 Or if not so, fJien here I hit it right — 
 Our Romeo iiath not been in bed to-night. 
 
 Rom. Tliat last is true, the sweeter rest was 
 mine. 
 
 Fri, God pardiin sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ? 
 
 Rom. With Rosaline, my giiostly father? no; 
 I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. 
 
 Fri. 'I'hat's my good son : But where hast thou 
 been, then ? 
 
 Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. 
 I have been feasting with mine enemy; 
 Where, on a sudden, one hath uoiinJed me, 
 That's by me wojinded ; both our remedies 
 VVithin thy help and holy physic lies : 
 I bear no hatred, blessed man ; for lo, 
 My intercession likewise steads my foe. [drift; 
 
 Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy 
 Riddling confession (inds but riddling shrill. 
 
 Rum. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is 
 On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: [set 
 
 As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; 
 And all coiiibind, s:ive what thou must combine 
 By holy marriage : When, and where, and how. 
 We niet, we wood, and made exchange of »uw. 
 Ml tell thee as we pass; but lliis I pray, 
 That thou consent to m;irry iis this day. 
 
 Fri. Holy Saint Francis ! wliat a change is here ! 
 Is Rosaline, wlioni thou didst low so dear, 
 So soon lorsaken''' young men's love then lies 
 Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 
 Jesu Maria! Wlnt a deal of brine 
 Hath wash'd tiiy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! 
 how much salt water thrown away in waste, 
 To season love, that of it doth not taste! 
 The sun not yet tliy sighs from heaven clears, 
 Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; 
 Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit 
 Of an old tear, that is not wrislfd off yet ; 
 If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine. 
 Thou and these woes were all tor Rosaline; 
 .And art thou chang'd i pronounce this sentence 
 
 then — 
 Women may (all, when there's no strength in men. 
 
 Rom. riioii chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. 
 
 Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. 
 
 Rom. And bad'st me bury love. 
 
 Fri. Not in a grave, 
 
 To lay one in, another out to haie. [now, 
 
 Rom. I pray thee, chide not ; she, whom 1 love 
 Doth grace tor grace, and love for love allow ; 
 The other did not so. 
 
 Fri. O, she knew well. 
 
 Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 
 But come, young waverer, come go with me, 
 In one respect I'll thy assistant be ; 
 For this alliance may so happy prove. 
 To turn your households' rancour to pure love. 
 
 Rom. O, let us hence ; 1 stand on sudden haste. 
 
 Fri. Wisely and slow; They stumble, that run 
 fast. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Street. 
 
 Enter Benvolio and Mekcutio. 
 
 Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be '^ — 
 Came he not home to night? 
 
 Hen. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man. 
 
 Mer. -Ah, that same pale hard hearted wench, 
 that Rosaline, 
 Torments hnn so, that he will sure run mad. 
 
 Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capuiet, 
 Hath sent a letter to h.o father's house. 
 
 Mer. A chadenge, on my lile. 
 
 Ben. Rnmeo will answer it. [a letter. 
 
 Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer 
 
 Ben. Naj, he will answer the letter's master, how 
 he dares, being dared. 
 
 Mer A as, poor Romeo, he is already dead! 
 Blabbed with a white wench's black eye ; shut 
 
 through the ear with a love-song ; the very pin of his 
 heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And 
 is he a man to encounter Tybalt? 
 
 Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? 
 
 Mer. Move than prince of cats, I can tell yoa. 
 O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. 
 He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, dis- 
 tance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, 
 one, two, and the third in your bosom : the very 
 butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist ; a 
 gentleman of the very first house, — of the first and 
 second cause : Ah, the immortal passado ! the 
 p unto re verso! the hay! 
 
 Ben. Tlie what? 
 
 Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, aflVctinfi 
 fantasticoes ; these new tuners ol accents ! By Jesu, 
 a very good blade '. — a very tall man I — a very 
 (jood whore! — Why, is not this a lamentable thing, 
 grandsire, that we siioiild be thus afflicted with thes* 
 strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these />arr/ow- 
 ■tiez-moy's, who stand so much on the new form, 
 that thty cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, 
 their hons., their bona 1 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. 
 
 Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: — 
 O, flesh, flfsli, how art thou (ishified ! — Now is he 
 tor tlie numbers th:it Petiarch flowed in : Laura, to 
 his lady, was but a kiu-lien-wench : — marry, she had 
 a better love to be-rhyme her : Dido, a dcwdy ; 
 Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hihlings and 
 harlots ; 'I'iiisbc, a grey eye or so, but not to the 
 purpose. — Signior Romeo, bonjoitr! there's a French 
 salutation to your French Siop. You gave us the 
 coiinterleit fairly last night. 
 
 Rom. Good morrow to you both. What coun- 
 terleit did 1 give you ? [ceive ? 
 
 Mer. Tlie slip, sir, the slip; Can you not con- 
 
 Rum. Pardon, good Mercitio, my business was 
 great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain 
 courtesy. 
 
 Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case a 
 yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. 
 
 Rom. Meaning — to coiirt'sy. 
 
 Mer. 'i'hou hast most kindly hit it. 
 
 Rom. A most courteous exposition. 
 
 Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 
 
 Rom. Pink for flower. 
 
 Mer. Right. 
 
 Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. 
 
 Mer. Well said : Follow me this jest now, till 
 thou iiast worn out thy pump ; that, wlieii tliu 
 single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after 
 the wearing, solely singular. 
 
 Rum. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the 
 siuyleness ! [wits fail. 
 
 Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my 
 
 Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; oi 
 I'll rr\ a match. 
 
 Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, 
 I ha\e done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose 
 in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my 
 whole five : VVas I with you there for the goose ? 
 
 Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, 
 when thou wast not there for the goose. 
 
 Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. 
 
 Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. 
 
 Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; it is a 
 most sharp sauce. 
 
 Rom. And is it not well served in to a sw-tet 
 goose ? 
 
 Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches 
 from ail inch narrow to an ell broad ! 
 
 Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad ; 
 which added to the goose, proves thee far and 
 wide a broad goose. 
 
 Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning 
 for love ? now art thou s )Ci<ible, now art tliou lio- 
 nieo; now art thou what fliou art, by art as well a-j 
 
728 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 by nature: for this dnvelling; love is like a great 
 natural, than runs lolling ni) and down to hide his 
 bauble in a hole. 
 
 Jie7i. Stop there, stop there. 
 
 Mer. 'i'liou desirest me to stop in my tale against 
 the air. 
 
 Ben. Thou vvould'st else have made thy tale large. 
 
 Mer. O, thou art deceived, I would have made 
 it short : for 1 was come to the whole depth of my 
 tale : and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument 
 no lons;er. 
 
 Bom. Here's goodly geer ! 
 
 Enter Nurse and Peter. 
 
 Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail ! 
 Ben. Two, two ; a sliirt, and a smock 
 Nurse. Peter ! 
 Peter. Anon? 
 Nurse. M\ fan, Peter. 
 
 Mer. Pr'ytiiee, do, ^o.od Peter, to hide her face ; 
 for her fin's the fairer of the two. 
 
 Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. 
 Mer U'mI ye good den, lair gentlewoman. 
 Nurse. Is it good den :" 
 
 Mer. 'Tis no less, I'll teji yon ; for the bawdy hand 
 of the dial is now npon the prick ot noon 
 
 Nurse. Out upon you ! what a m:in are you? 
 Bum. One. gentlewoman, that God hath made 
 himself to mar. 
 
 Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ;— For him- 
 self to mar, qno'th'a?— Gentlemen, can any of you 
 tell me where I may find the young H'lmeo ? 
 
 Bom. I can tell you ; but young llotueo will be 
 older when you have found him, than he was when 
 you sought him: I am tlie youngest of that name, 
 for 'fi'ilt of a worse. 
 Nurse. Vou say well. 
 
 Mer. Yea, is (he worst well? very well took, 
 i'faith : wisely, wisely. 
 
 Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence 
 with vou. 
 
 Ben. She will indite him to some supper. 
 Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho ! 
 Burn. What hast thou found ^ . . . 
 Mer, No hare, sir ; unless a hair, sir, in a lenten 
 pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be 
 spent. 
 
 An old hare hoar, 
 And an old hare hoar. 
 Is very good meat in lent 
 But. a hare that is hoar. 
 Is too ?riuch for a score. 
 When it hoars ere it be spent. — 
 Romeo, will you come to your father's? well to 
 dinner thither 
 
 Bom. I will follow you. 
 
 Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, 
 lady, lady. 
 
 [Exeunt Mercutio and BenvoUo. 
 \«rse. Marry, frtie well !— I pray you, sir, \vhat 
 ?iaiicy merchant was this, that was so full of his 
 lopery. 
 
 Bom, A gentleman, nurse, that loves lo hear 
 him.self talk ; and will speak more in a minute, 
 than he will stand to in a month. 
 
 Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll 
 t-ike him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and 
 twenty like Jacks; and, if he cannot, I'll find those 
 that shall. Scurvy knave I I am none of fiis flirt- 
 ^irls ; I am none of his skains-inates : — .\nd thou 
 must stand by too, and sutler every knave to use 
 me at his pleasure '' 
 
 Pel. I saw no man use you at his pleasure ; W I 
 had. my weapim should quickly have been out, I 
 warrant you : I dare draw as soon as another man, 
 it I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on 
 ray sule. 
 
 Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that 
 every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave ! — 
 Pray you, sir, a word : and as I told you, my 
 
 young lady bade me inquire yon out ; what she hade 
 me say, I will keep to luyseH'; but first It- 1 ine tell 
 ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as 
 they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, 
 as they'say: for the gentlewoman is youii? ; and, 
 therefore, if you should deal trouble with her, 
 truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gen 
 tlewoman, and very weak dealing. 
 
 Bom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady ar>d mis- 
 tress. I protest unto thee, — 
 
 Nurse. Good heait! and, i'faith, I will tell hey 
 as much : Lord, lord, she will be a joyful wonwn. 
 
 Bom. What wilt lliou tell her, nurse ? thou dost 
 not mark nie. 
 
 Nurse. I will tell her, sir— th^t yon do protest j 
 wliich, as I take it, is a >;entleinan-like otter. 
 
 Bo7n. Bid her devise some means to come to 
 This altenioon; . [siirift 
 
 And there she shall, at friar Laurence' cell. 
 Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains. 
 
 Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. 
 
 Horn. Go to; 1 say, you shall. 
 
 Nurse. This alterooon, sir? well, »lie shall b« 
 there. [viaW: 
 
 Bom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey 
 Within this hour mv man shall be with thee; 
 And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair: 
 Which to tne high top gallant of my joy 
 Must be my convoy in the secret ni^lit. 
 Farewell ! — Be trusty, and III quit thy pains. 
 Farewell I — Commend me to thy mistress. 
 
 Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! — Hark 
 you, sir. 
 
 Bom. \Vliat say'st thou, ray dear nurse ? 
 
 Nurse. Is your man secret ? Did you ne'er hear 
 say — 
 Two may keep coun.sel, putting one away ? 
 
 Bom. I warrant thee; my man'« as true as steel. 
 
 Nurse. Well, sir, my mistress is the svveetest 
 lady — Lord, lord ! — wjien 'twas a little prating 
 thing, — O, — there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, 
 that would fain lay knife aboard; but slie, good 
 soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see 
 him. 1 anger her sometimes, and tell her that 
 Paris is the properer man; but. 111 warrant you, 
 wlien i say so, .she looks as pale as anv clout in the 
 varsal world. Doth not rosemary and iRomeo begio 
 both with a letter i 
 
 Bom. .\y. nurse; What of that? both with an R. 
 
 Nurse. All, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. 
 is for the dog. No; I know it begins witli some 
 other letter: and she hath the prettiest sententious 
 of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you 
 good to hear it. 
 
 Bom. Commend me to thy lady, [Exit 
 
 Nurse. A\,u thousand times. — Peterl 
 . Pet. Anon ? 
 
 Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 Scene V. — Capulet's Garden. 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Jul. The clock struck nine, w hen I did send the 
 nurse ; 
 In half an hour she promis'd to return. 
 Perchance, she cannot meet him : — that's not so. — 
 O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts. 
 Which ten titnes faster glide than the suns beams. 
 Driving back shadows over lowring hills : 
 Tlierelore do nimble-piniond doves draw love. 
 And therefore hatu the wind-swift Cupid wings. 
 Now is the sun upon the highiiiost hill 
 Of this day's journey ; and from nine till twelve 
 Is three long hours, — yet she is not come. 
 Had she afi't-ctiims, and warm youthful blood. 
 She'd be as swift in motion as a ball ; 
 My words would bandy her to n.y sweet love» 
 And his to me : 
 
 But old folks, many feign as they were dead; 
 Unvviekly, slow, lieavy and pale as lead. 
 
Act in. Sci;xE 1. 
 
 ROMEO ^iND JULIET. 
 
 729 
 
 Enter Nt/rse and Peter. 
 
 O God, slie comes ! — O hmiey muse, wliat news ? 
 Hant tlmii met with him i" Send thy man nwriv. 
 Nurxe. Peter, stiiy at the gnte. \Exit Peter. 
 
 Jul. Now, poi)H sweet nurse, — O lord I wliy 
 hxik'st thnti sad ? 
 Though news be sad. yet tell theni merrily; 
 , \i' good, tiioii siiamst the music of sweet news 
 By piayinjT it to me with so sour a (ace. 
 
 Nurfe. I am aweary, give me leave a while : — 
 Fye, how cny hones ache ! What a jaunt have I had ! 
 Jul. I uould, thou hadst my bones, and I thy 
 news ; [s[)eak. 
 
 Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ; — good, good nurse, 
 Nurse. .Ie<u. what haste ? can you not stay 
 av\-liile ? 
 Do you not sei?, that I am out of brentii? 
 
 Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast 
 breath 
 To say to me — tiwt thou art out of breath? 
 The excuse. (Ii;it thou dost make in this delay. 
 Is longer tliaii the tale thou dost excuse. 
 Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; 
 Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance : 
 Let me be satisfied, Is't good or bad? 
 
 Nurae. Well, you ha\e made a simple choice; 
 you know n<it how to choose a man Komeo! no, 
 not he : tiioiiijh his face be better tlian any man's, 
 yet his leg t xi'els all men's : and for a hand, and a 
 foot, and a body, — though they be not to be talked 
 on, yet tiiey are past compare : He is not the flower 
 of conrtesj. — but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a 
 iMib. — (io thy uays, wench; serve God;-:— What, 
 have voii dined at home? 
 
 Jul. No, no: But all (his did I know before: 
 What says he of our marriage ? what of that? 
 Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! what a head 
 have I : . ■ . 
 It beats as it would fall in t\\enty pieces. 
 My back, o'tdtiier side, — O, my back, my back! — 
 Beshiew your heart, for sending me about, 
 To catch my death with Jaunting uf) and down ,' 
 Jul. rfniih, I am sorry that thou art not well : 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my 
 
 I.. J J 
 
 o\e . 
 
 • Nt/rse. Y'our Io\e .says like an honest gentleman, 
 And h coiirtious, and a kind, and a handsome, 
 And, I warrant, a virtuous: — Where is your mo 
 ther? 
 
 Jul. Wliere is my mother'? — why, she is within ; 
 Where should she be ? How oddly thou reply'st ? 
 Your lave says like an hottest yenlletnan, — 
 Where is your mother ! 
 
 Nurse. O, God's lady dear ! 
 
 Are you so hot ? JNlarry, come up, I trow; 
 Is this the poultice for my aching bones? 
 Henceforward do your messages yourself. 
 
 Jul. Here's such a coil ; — Come, what savs 
 Romeo ? [day ? 
 
 Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to- 
 
 Jul. I have. [cell, 
 
 Nurse. Then hie yon hence to fiiar Laurence' 
 There stays a husband to make yon a wile : 
 Now comes the wanton blood up in yotn- cheeks. 
 They'll be in fcarleLstraight at any news. 
 Hie you to church ; I must another way. 
 To fetch a ladder, by the which your love 
 oMust climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark : 
 I am the drudge, and t()il in your delight ; 
 Rut vou shall bear the burden soon at night. 
 (Jo, Vll to dumer; hie you to the ceil. 
 
 Jul. Hie to high fortune ! — honest nurse, fare- 
 well. \E.xeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 
 Eiter Friar L.VURENCE and Romeo. 
 
 Fri. So smile tJie heavenii upon this holy act, 
 Tiiat after houns with sorrow chide us not ! 
 Rom. Aoieii, amen ! but come what sorrow can. 
 
 It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, 
 'I'hat one short minnfe giies me in her sl^Ui 
 Do thou but close our hands with holy words 
 Then love-d. vourina death do what he dare, 
 It is enoiTfih I may but ctII her mine. 
 
 Fri. 'J'hese xiolent delights ha\e xiolent eni)« 
 And in their triumph die: like fire and povxder. 
 Which, as ihey kiss, consume: The sweet houJ-y 
 Is loatiisome in his own deliciousness. 
 And in (he taste cotd'ounds the a|ipefife: 
 Therefore, love moderately; long lo\e doth so- 
 Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 Here cornes (he lady : — O, so light a foot 
 Will ne'er wea-out the everlasting flint 
 A lover may bestride the gossamers, 
 That idle in the wanton summer air, 
 And vet not fall ; so light is vanity. 
 
 .Till. Good even to my ghostly confessor. 
 
 Pri. Romeo shall tliank thee, daughter, for ns 
 , , both. ■ [„„ich. 
 
 Jul. As much to him, else are his (hanks too 
 
 Horn. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 
 Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more 
 'I'o blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath 
 'Hiis neighbour air, and let rich nuisic's tongue 
 Unfold tlie imagin d happiness, that both 
 Receive in either by this dear encounter. 
 
 Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words 
 Brags of his substance, not of ornament : 
 They are but beggars that can count (heir worth; 
 But my true love is grown to such excess, 
 I cannot sum up hall my sum of wealth. 
 
 Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make 
 short work ; 
 F^f, hy your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 
 rill holy church incorporate two in one. [E.veuni. 
 
 ACT TIL 
 
 Scene \.~A public Place. 
 
 Enter Mercltio, Benvolio, Patje, and Servants 
 
 Ben. I pray thee, good .Mercutio, let's retire; 
 The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 
 And, if we meet, we shall tiot 'scape a brawl ; 
 For now, these hot days, is (he mad blood stirring. 
 
 Mer. 'i'hou art like one of (hose fellows, (hat, 
 when he eu(ers the confines of a tavern, claps me 
 his sword upon the (able, and say a, God send tne 
 no need of thee ! and by (he operation of tlie se- 
 cond cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, 
 there is no need. 
 
 Ben. Am I like such a fellow? 
 
 Mer Coine, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy 
 mood as any in Italy: and as soon moved to be 
 moody, and as soon moody to be moved. 
 
 Ben. And wIirI (o ? 
 
 Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we shoidd 
 have none shortly, for one would kill the other. 
 Thou ! why. thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath 
 a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, tjjan thoti 
 hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man (or cracking 
 nu(s, having no otiier reason but because thoii hast 
 hazel eyes : What eye, but such an eye, would spy 
 out such a quarrel ? Thy head is as full of quarrels, 
 as an egg is full of meat ; and yet thy head hath 
 been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. 
 Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in 
 the street, because he hath wakened thy doj; that 
 hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not full out 
 with a tailor, j'or wearing his new doublet helore 
 Easter? with another, (or tyinij his new slmeswith 
 old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me lioiii quar- 
 relhng ! 
 
 Ben. An I were so apt to qtiarre! as thou art, 
 any man should buy the fee-simple of my life lor Ml 
 hour and a q'laiter. 
 
 Mer. The fee simple? O simple! 
 
730 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act tit. 
 
 Enter Tybalt, and others. 
 
 Ben. By my head, here come the Capnlets. 
 
 Mer. By my heel, I care not. 
 
 Tyb. Follow me close, lor I will speak to them. — 
 Gentlemen, good den : a word with one of you. 
 
 Mer. And but one word with one of us ? Couple 
 it with soiiietliiii£f ; miike it a word and a blow. 
 
 'J'yh. Vou will tind niCiapt enougli to that, sir, if 
 you will give me occasion. [giving? 
 
 Mer. Could you not take some occasion without 
 
 Ti/b. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Uomeo, — 
 
 Mer, Consort! what, dost thou make us tnin- 
 stiels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear 
 nothing b it discords : here's my fiddlestick ; here's 
 that shall make you dance. 'Zoundj, consoit! 
 
 Ben. We talk iiere in tlie public haunt of men: 
 Either withdraw into some private place, 
 Or reason coldly of your grievances. 
 Or else depart; liere aH eyes gaze on us. 
 
 Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let 
 them gaze ; 
 I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. 
 
 Enter RoiMEO. 
 
 Tyb. Well, peace be witii you, sir! here comes 
 my man. ■ [livery : 
 
 Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your 
 Marry, go belbre to field, he'll be your follower ; 
 Your worship, in that sense, may call hiui — man. 
 
 Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear tiiee can ati'ord 
 No better term than this — Thou art a villain. 
 
 Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee 
 Doth much excuse the appertaining rage 
 To such a greeting: — Vdlain am I none; 
 Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not. 
 
 Tyb. Hoy, tiiis shall not excuse the injuiies 
 That thou h st done me ; therefore turn and draw. 
 
 Rom. I do protest, I ne»er injur'd thee; 
 But love tiiee better than tiiou canst devise, 
 'I'dl thou shalt know the reason of my love: 
 And so, good Capulet, — which namf 1 tender 
 As dearly as mine own, — be sati>fied. 
 
 Mer. O calm. dishono(uable, vile submission ! 
 A la stoccfita carries it away. — {Draws.) 
 
 Tybalt, yo'i rat catcin r, will you walk ? 
 
 Tyb. What woiild'st thou iiave witli me ? 
 
 Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your 
 nine li^es; that 1 mean to make bold witiial, and, 
 as you shall use me hereafter, dry beat tlie rest of 
 the eiglit. Will you pluck your sword out of his 
 pilcher by the ears ? make haste, lest mine be about 
 your eais ere it be out. 
 
 Tyb. 1 acu for you. {Drawing.) 
 
 Rum. tJeiitle Alercutio, put thy rapier up. 
 
 Mer. Come, sir, your passado. {They fiylit.) 
 
 Rom. Draw, Ben\ olio ; 
 Beat down their weapons : — Gentlemen, for sluine, 
 forbear this outraye ; — Tylialt — Mercutio — 
 'i he prince exprfssiy hath lorhid this bandying 
 In Verona streets : — hold, Tyb.dt ; — gtuni Aleicifio. 
 [Exeunt Tybalt and kin Fartizans. 
 
 Mer. I am hurt; — 
 A ijlague o' botli the houses I — I am sped ; — 
 Is lie gone, and hath nothing? 
 
 Ben. What, art thou hurt? 
 
 Mer, Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 'tis 
 enough. — 
 Where is my page'/ — Go, villain, fetih a surgeon. 
 
 [Exit Page. 
 
 Rev,, Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. 
 
 Mt>r. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide 
 as a church door ; but 'tis enough, 'twill ser\e:ask 
 fdr me tn-morrow, and you shall find me a grave 
 man. I am peppered, I narrant. fur this world : — 
 A plague o' both your houses ! — Zounds, a dog, a 
 rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death ! a 
 braggait, a rogue, a villain, that fights by tiie book 
 -of aiithuietic ! — Why, the devil came you between 
 US ■* 1 was hurt under your ami. 
 
 Rom. I thought all for the best. 
 
 Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, 
 Or I shall faint. — .A plague o' both your houses I 
 They ha\e made worm's meat of me; 
 I have it, and soundly too: — Vonr houses! 
 
 [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. 
 
 Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally. 
 My »ery friend, hath got his mortal hurt 
 In my beha'f; my reputation stain'd ♦' 
 
 With Tybalt's slander, Tjbalt, that an hour 
 Hath been my kinsman : — O sweet Juliet, 
 'i'hy beauty hath made me efi'eminate, 
 And in my temper soften'd valour's steel. 
 
 Re-enter Benvolio. 
 
 Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead ; 
 That gallant spirit hatii aspir'd the clouds. 
 Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
 
 Rom. This day's black fate on more days dot' 
 depend ; 
 This but begins the woe, others must end. 
 
 Re-enter Tybalt. 
 
 Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. 
 
 Rom. ."Vlive ! in triumph ! and Mercutio slaiu ! 
 Away to heaven, respectixe lenity. 
 And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now ! — 
 Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, 
 That late thou gav'st me ; for Mercutio's .soul 
 Is but a little way above our heads. 
 Staying (or thine to keep him company ; 
 Either thou, or 1, or both, must go with him. 
 
 Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him 
 Shalt with him hence. [heft. 
 
 Rom,^ This shall detern>ine that. 
 
 {They fight: Tybalt jails.) 
 
 Ben. Romeo, away, be gone ! 
 The citizens are np, and Tybalt slain: — 
 Stand notamaz'd; — the prince will doom thee death. 
 If thou art taken : — hence ' — be gone I — away ! 
 
 Rom. O ! I am fortune's fool ! 
 
 Ben. Why dosf thou stay ? 
 
 [Exit Romeo. 
 
 Enter Citizens, §Cc. 
 
 -1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd iMercutio? 
 Tyiialt, that murderer, which way ran he ? 
 Ben. Tliere lies that Tybalt. 
 1 Cit. Up. sir, go with rae ; 
 
 I cliaigw thee in the prince's name, obey. 
 
 Enter Prince, attended; MorJTAGi'E, Capulet, 
 their Wives, and others. 
 
 Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? 
 
 Ben. O noble prince, 1 can discover all 
 The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl : 
 There lies tlie man, slain by young. Romeo, 
 That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. 
 
 La. Cap, Tybalt, my cousin ! — O my brother's 
 child! 
 Unhappy sight! ah me, tlie blood is spill'd 
 Ol my dear kinsman 1 — Prince, as thou art true. 
 For blood of ours, slied blood of Montague. — 
 O cousin, cousin I 
 
 Priti, Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? 
 
 Ben. Tvbitlt, here slaiu, whom Romeo's hand did 
 slay ; 
 Romeo that s|ioke him fair, bade him bethink 
 How nice the quarrel was, and iirg'd withal 
 Your high displeasure: — All this — uttered 
 With gentle breatli, calm look, knees biuubly 
 
 bow'd. — 
 Could not take truce with the unruly spleen 
 Ol'Tvbalt, deaf to peace, but that he tilts 
 Witli piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast; 
 Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, 
 •And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats 
 Cold death aside, and with the other sends 
 It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity 
 Retorts it : Romeo he cries aloud, 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 731 
 
 Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than 
 
 his toQJue, 
 His affile arm beats down their fatal points, 
 And 'twixt them rushes; iinrlerneath whose arm 
 An envioTis thrust from Tybalt hit the life 
 Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled: 
 But by and by comes bacii to llomeo, 
 Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, 
 And lo'l they go like liglitning; for, ere I 
 Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain ; 
 And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly : 
 This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. 
 
 La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, 
 Affection iliakes him lalse, he speaks not true : 
 Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, 
 And all those twenty could but kill one life : 
 I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give ; 
 Romeo slew I'ybalt, Koineo must not live. 
 
 Prm. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; 
 Who now the price of liis dear blood doth owe ? 
 
 Mo7i. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's 
 fiiend ; 
 His fault concludes but, what the law should end, 
 The life of Tybalt. 
 
 Prin. And, for that offence. 
 
 Immediately we do exile him hence : 
 I have an interest in your hates' proceeding. 
 My blood, for your ru<le brawls, doth lie a-bleediug ; 
 But ril amerce you with so strong a fine. 
 That you shill all repent the loss of mine: 
 I will he deaf to pleading and excuses ; 
 Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuse.s. 
 Therefore use none : let Romeo hence in haste, 
 ftlse, when he's found, that hour is his last. 
 Bear hence his body, and attend our will : 
 Mercy but murders, panloning those that kill. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Capulel's House. 
 Enter Juliet. 
 Jnl. G;dlop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
 Towards Pucebus' mansion; such a waggoner 
 As FlicBton would whip you to the west. 
 And bring in cloudy night immediately. — 
 Spread tliy close curtain, love-perlbruiing night! 
 That riin-away's eyes may wink ; and Romeo 
 Leap to these arm-*, untalk'd of, and unseen I — 
 Lovers can see to do their amnrous rites 
 By their own beauties : or, it love be blind. 
 It best agrees with iiiglit. — Coaie, civil night, 
 Thou snber-sulted matron, all in black. 
 And learn me how to lose a winning match, 
 Play'd (or a pair of st linless maidenhoods : 
 Hood my nnmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, 
 Witii ti;y black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, 
 Think true love acted, simple modesfv. 
 Come, night ! — Come, Romeo ! come, thou day in 
 
 nisjht ! 
 For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 
 Whiter tlian new snow on a raven's back. — 
 Come, gentle night ; come, loving, black-brow'd night. 
 Give me my Romeo: and, wiien he shall die, 
 Take him, and cut him out in little stars. 
 And he will make the face of heaven so fine. 
 That all the world will be in love with nigut, 
 And pay no worship to the garish sun. — 
 O, I iiave bought the mansion of a love. 
 But not possess'd it; and, tiiough I am sold. 
 Nut ^et eiijo>'d : So tedious is this day. 
 As is the night before some festival 
 To an i!iipatieiit cliild, that hath new robes, 
 And m.'.y not wear them. O, here conies my nurse, 
 
 Enter Nurse, with cords. 
 
 And she brings news ; and every tongue that speaks 
 But Ro.neos name, speaks heavenly eloquence. — 
 Now, nurse, what news ? What hast thou there ? the 
 That Romeo bade thee fetch ' [cords, 
 
 Nuihe. Av. ay. the cords. 
 
 {.Throws them down.) 
 
 Jul. Ah me ! what news ? why dost thou wring thy 
 
 hands ? 
 
 (dead ! 
 
 Nurse. .\h well-a-day ! he's dead, he's dead, he's 
 We are undone, lady, we are undone!— 
 Alack the day! — he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead.' 
 
 Jul. Can heaven be so envious ? 
 
 Nurse. Romeo cau , 
 
 Though heaven cannot : — O Romeo, Romeo ! — 
 Who ever would have thought it"' — Romeo! 
 
 Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment uie 
 thus ? 
 This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. 
 Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but /, 
 And that bare vowel /shall poison more 
 Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice : 
 I am not I, if there be such an I; 
 Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, /. 
 If he be slain, say — /; or if not, no: 
 Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. 
 
 Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,— 
 God .save the mark ! — here on Lis nmnly breast: 
 A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse ; 
 Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, 
 All ill gore blood ; — 1 swooned at the sight. 
 
 Jul. O break, my heart! — poor bankrupt, break 
 at once ! 
 To prison, eyes ! ne'er look on liberty ! 
 Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ; 
 And thiui, and Romeo, press one heavy bier! 
 
 Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best fiiend I had! 
 O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman ! 
 That ever I should live to see thee dead! 
 
 Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary ?- 
 Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead ? 
 My dear-lo»'d cousin, and my dearer lord ?- 
 Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! 
 For who is living, if tliose two are gone ? 
 
 Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banish'd ; 
 Romeo that kill'd him. he is banished. 
 
 Jul. O God ! — did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's 
 blood ■> 
 
 Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did. 
 
 Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering facet 
 Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave i 
 Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical! 
 Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish ravening lamb! 
 Despised substance of divinest shew! 
 Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st- 
 A damned saint, an honourable villain! — 
 O, nature ! what hadst thou to do in hell, 
 When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend 
 In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ? 
 Was ever book, containing such vile matter. 
 So fairly bound '' O, that deceit should dweil 
 In such a gorgeous palace ! 
 
 Nurse. There's no trust. 
 
 No faith, no honesty in men; all perjnr'd, 
 All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. — 
 Ah, where's my man? give me some atjua vita: — 
 These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me c!<i, 
 Sliiime come to Romeo! 
 
 Jul. Blister'd be thy tongne. 
 
 For such a wish ; he was nut born to shame : 
 Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; 
 For 'tis a throne vviiere honour may be crown'd 
 Sole niona;ch of the universal earth. 
 O, whit a beast was i to chide at him ! 
 
 Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kiU^ 
 your cousin ? 
 
 Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? 
 Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy ii?me, 
 VVIien I, thy three-hours' wife, have manglfd <( ? 
 But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my con.sin? 
 That villain cousin would have kill'd ray husband 
 Back, (bolish tears, fjack to your native spring; 
 Your tributary drops belong to woe. 
 Which yon, mistakins, offer up to joy. 
 My husband lives, that Tybrilt would have slain; 
 And Tybalt's dead, tliat would have slain my Itus- 
 band : 
 

 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 \ 
 
 All this IS comfort ; Wherefore weer) I then ? 
 
 Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, 
 
 I'hat miirder'd me : I would forget it fain; 
 
 But, O ! it presses to my memory, 
 
 Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 
 
 Tybalt is dead and Romeo— banished ; 
 
 That — banished, that one wotA— banished. 
 
 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death 
 
 Was woe enough, if it had ended there: 
 
 Or. — if our woe delights in ffliowship, 
 
 And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,— 
 
 Why fallow'd not, when she said— Tybalt's dead, 
 
 Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, 
 
 Which modern lamentation miRht have mov'd? 
 
 But, with a rear-ward (bllowing Tybalt's death, 
 
 Romeo is banished,— io speak, that word, 
 
 fs father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 
 
 All slain, all dead ; — Romeo is banished^ — 
 
 'I'here is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 
 
 In that word's death ; no words can that woe 
 
 soimfl. — 
 Where is mv lather, and my mother, nurse? 
 
 Nurse, Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: 
 Will you go to them"!" I will biiiig yon thither. 
 
 Jul. WhsIi they liis wounds with tears? mine 
 shall bf spent. 
 When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. 
 Take up those cords • — Poor ropes, you are beguil'd. 
 Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd : 
 He made you for a highway to my bed : 
 But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. 
 Come, cords ; come, nurse ; I'll to my wedding bed; 
 And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead ! 
 
 Nurse. Hie to your chamber : I'll find Romeo 
 To comfort you :— I wot well where he is. 
 Hark ye, vour Romeo will be here at night; 
 I'll to lr,m': he is hid at Laurence' celL 
 
 Jul. O find him ! give this ring to my true knight ; 
 
 And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 111. — Friar Laurence's CelL 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence and RoMEO. 
 
 Fri. Romeo, come forth ; come forth, thou fearfid 
 Affliction is enamoiir'd of thy parts, [man ; 
 
 And tlnui art wedded to calamity. [doom ? 
 
 Rorn. Father, what news? what is the prince's 
 What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, 
 That I yet know not? 
 
 Fri, Too familiar 
 
 Is my dear son with such sour company: 
 I briiig thee tidings of the prince's doom. 
 
 Rom. What less than doomsday is the prince's 
 doom i 
 
 Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 
 Not body's death, but body's banishment. 
 
 Rom. Ha ! banishment ! be merciful, say — death : 
 For exile hath more terror in his look, 
 Much more than denth : do not say — banishment. 
 
 Fri, Hence from Veronal art tiion banished : 
 Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 
 
 Rom. 'I'here is no world without Verona walls, 
 Bat purgatory torture, hell itself. 
 Hence-banished is banisli'd from the world, 
 And world's exile is death: — then banishment 
 is deith mis lerm'd : calling death — banishment, 
 Tiiou cut'st my head oft' with a golden axe, 
 And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me. 
 
 Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthanklulness ! 
 Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince, 
 'I'aiiin,; thy |)art, hath rush'd aside the law, 
 Aud turn'd that black word death to banishment: 
 'J'liis is dear mercy, aud thou seest it not. 
 
 Rotn. ' Tis tort .re, and not mercy : heaven is here, 
 Where Juliet lives ; and every cat, and dog, 
 And little mnuse. -every unworthy tlnng. 
 Live here in heaven, and may look on her, 
 But Kou\Po m ly not. — More valiility. 
 More honourable state, more courtsi'iip lires 
 In carrion flies, tlian Romeo: tiiey may .seize 
 Ou the white wondef of dear Juliet's hand, 
 
 And steal immortal bles.sing froralier lips: 
 
 Who, even in pme and vestal modefity. 
 
 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; 
 
 But Romeo nv.rj not ; he is banished . 
 
 Flies may do this, when I from Ibis must fly: 
 
 They are free men, but I am banished. 
 
 And say'st thou yet, tiiat exile is not death ? 
 
 Hadst thou no poison niix'd. no sliarp-ground l.ni.''**. 
 
 No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so meau 
 
 But — banished — to kill me; banished?" 
 
 O friar, the damned use that word in hell ; 
 
 Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart, 
 
 Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
 
 A sin absolver, and a friend proless'd, 
 
 To mangle me with that word — banishment? 
 
 Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but spesk a 
 
 word. 
 Ro7ti. O thou wilt speak again of banishment. 
 Fri. I'll give tliee armour to keep oflF that word • 
 Ad\ersily's sweet milk, philosophy. 
 To comtiirt thee, though thou art banished. 
 
 Rom. Yet banished ? — hang up philosopiiv ' 
 UnleSs philosophy can make a Juliet, 
 Dis|)lant a town, reverse a prince's doom ; 
 It heijis not. it prevails not; talk no more. 
 
 Fri. O, then I see, that madmen have no eos 
 Rom. How should tliey, when that wisi- men' 
 
 have no eyes '' 
 Fri. Let me disjiute with thee of thy estate. 
 Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost 
 not feel : 
 Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, 
 .\n hour but married, 'i'ybalt murdered. 
 Doting like me, iind like me banished 
 Then might'st thou speak, theji niight'st tlimi tear 
 
 thy hair. 
 And fall upon the ground, as I do now, 
 Taking tlie measure of an unmade grave. 
 
 Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thy- 
 .self. {Knockiny >rithm.) 
 
 Rom. Not- I; unless the breath of heart sick 
 groans. 
 Mist like, infold uie from the search of -ves. 
 
 {.Knocking.) 
 Fri. Hark, how they knock! Who's Uiere . 
 Romeo, arise ; 
 Thou wilt be taken:— Stay awhile :— stand up : 
 
 (Knocking.) 
 Run to my study :^^By and by : — God's will ! 
 What wilfulness is this"' — 1 come, I come. 
 
 (Knoeking.) 
 Who knocks so hard ? whence come yuu ? what's 
 your will :" 
 Nurse. { Within.) Let rae come in, and you shall 
 know my errand ; 
 I come from Lady Juliet. 
 Fri. Welcome then. 
 
 Enter Nu^'se. 
 
 Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, i 
 
 Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? 
 
 Fri. There on' the ground, with his own tears 
 made drunk. 
 
 Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case. 
 Just in her case ! 
 
 Fri. O woeful symijathy ; 
 
 Piteous predicament! 
 
 Nurse. Even so lies she. 
 
 Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering!— 
 .Stiind up, statu! up; slanil. an you be a man: 
 Fur Juliet's srtke, h>r her sake, rise and stand; 
 W'liv siiduld vou fall into so deep an O ' 
 
 Rom. Nur.sV ! lot all. 
 
 Nurse. Ah. sir! ah, sir! — Well, death's tiie end 
 
 Rom S].ak'^t tliou of Julint? how is it witfi berV 
 Doth slie not tliiiik :rie an old munit-rer. 
 Now I ha\e stain'd the chikluood vf or.r joy 
 Witli bhiod reui'v'd but little IVoiu ht-rown? 
 Where .s she ? aud how doth .^he ' anil w<iat ssys 
 My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd fove 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 733 
 
 Nurse. O, she says nothiog, sir, but weeps and 
 weeps ; 
 And now falls on her bed ; and (hen starts up, 
 And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, 
 And then down tails again. 
 
 Jiuin. As if that name, 
 
 Sliot irom the deadly level of a gun, 
 Did niin-derher; as that name's cursed hand 
 .Murderd her kinsman. — O tell me, friar, tell me. 
 In what vile part of this anatomy 
 Doth my name lodge i" tell nie, that I may sack 
 The hateful mansion. {Drawimj his sword.) 
 
 Fri. Hold tliy desjjerate hand : 
 
 Art (liou a man? thy form cries out, tliou art; 
 Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote 
 Tlie unreasonable fury of a beast: 
 Unseemly woman, in a seemiiijj man ! 
 Or ill beseeming beast, in seeming both ! 
 Thou hast aiiiaz'd me : by my holy order, 
 I thought thy disposition better temper d. 
 Hast thou slain Tybalt';' wilt thou slay thyself? 
 And slay thy lady too that li\ es in lliee. 
 By douiK damned hate nPon thyself :' 
 Why rad'st tlioii on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? 
 Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet 
 In thee at once ; which thou at once would'st lose. 
 Fye, fye I tiiou sham'st tliy shape^ thy love, thy wit ; 
 Which, like au usurer, abound'st in all, 
 And usest none in that true use indeed 
 Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. 
 Tliy noble shape is but a form of wax, 
 Disressiiii; froiM tlie valour of a man: 
 Thy dear iove, sworn, but hollow perjury, 
 Killing that love, whicii thou hast vou'd to cherish : 
 Tliy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 
 IVlis-shapen in the conduct of them butli, 
 )j;ke powder in a skill-less soldier's tiask, 
 Is set on tire by thine own ignorance, 
 Ami thou disiiiember'd witli thine own defence. 
 What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive, 
 For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; 
 There art thou happy : Tybalt would kill thee. 
 But thou slew'st 'I'ybalt; there art thou happy too : 
 I'he law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend, 
 And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy : 
 A pacK ol blessings lights upon thy back; 
 Happiness courts tiiee in her bfst array ; 
 But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, 
 Thou poufst upon thy fortune and thy love: 
 Jake liced, take heed, for such die miserable. 
 Go, gt-t thee to thy love, as was decreed. 
 Ascend her chamber, hence and coiiitort her; 
 But look, thou stay not till the watch be set. 
 For then t\io>i canst not pass to Mantua; 
 >yhere thou snail live, till we can tind a time 
 To blaze your marriage, reconcile your IVif nds, 
 Heg paidoa of the prince, and call thee back 
 ■With twenty hundred thoiisami times more joy 
 Than tiiou uent'st forth in laintntation. — 
 CiO before, muse : comuiend n\- to thy lady; 
 And bid her hasten all the house tu bed, 
 Wliicii heavy sorrow makes tlieiu apt unto: 
 Romeo is co uiiig. [night 
 
 Nurse. O, Lord, I could have staid here all the 
 
 To Ileal i;ood counsel • O, wliat learning is ! 
 
 JVJy lord. 111 tell my lady you will come. 
 
 Horn. Do so, and bni my sweet prepare to chide. 
 JSurse. Here, sir, a ring she bade me give you, sir. 
 Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. 
 
 [Exit Nurse. 
 Pom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! 
 Pri. 'io hence: Good uight;and here stands all 
 \oui state ; — . 
 Either hrnoiie before the watch bp set. 
 Or by ihf break oi'day diss^nis'd fro.n hence : 
 Sojoiiin 111 Mantua ; III liiid out your man. 
 And lie shall si laty from time to time 
 E^eiy ..Olid naj) to you. that coaiices here : 
 Gn>- ,111- lii\ iian<l : tis late : fire well ; good niglit. 
 Rom. Hot tout a joy past joy calls out on nie. 
 
 It were a grief, so brief to part with thee : 
 Farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — A Room in Capulet's House. 
 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capui.et, and Paris. 
 Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily. 
 That we have had not time to move our daughter. 
 Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, 
 And so did 1 ; — Well, we were born to die,— 
 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-iiiglit: 
 I promise you, but tor your comiiany, 
 I would have been abed an hour ago. 
 
 Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo: 
 Madam, good night : coniinend me to your daughter. 
 
 La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to- 
 morrow ; 
 To-night she's niew'd up to her heaviness. 
 
 Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender 
 Of my child's love : I think, she will be riil'd 
 In all respects by me ; nay more, I doubt it not. 
 Wife, go yon to her ere you go to bed ; 
 Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; 
 And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next— 
 But, soft; What day is this? 
 
 Par. Monday, my lord. 
 
 Cap. Monday ? ha ! ha ! Well, Wediiesday is too 
 soon, 
 O'Thursday let it be ; — o'Thursday, tell her. 
 She shall be married to this noble earl : — 
 Will yon be ready? do you like this haste? 
 We'll keep no great ado ; — a frit-nd, or two : — 
 For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, 
 It may be thought we held it carelessly, 
 Being our kinsman, if we revel much : 
 Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends. 
 And there an end. But what say yon to Thursday ? 
 
 Par, My lord, I would that Thursday were to- 
 morrow, [then : — 
 
 Cap. Well, get you gone: — O' Thursday be it 
 Go you to Juliet ere yon go to bed. 
 Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. — 
 Farewell, my lord. — Light to my chamber, bo! 
 Afore me, it is so very late, (hat we 
 JMay call i( early by and by : — Good night. [ExevKi, 
 
 Scene V. — Juliet's Chamber. 
 
 Enter Ro.MEO and J VLIET. 
 
 Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: 
 It was the nightingale, and not (he lark, 
 That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear: 
 Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: 
 Believe me, ln\e, it was the nightingale. 
 
 Rutn. It was the lark, the herald of (he morn. 
 No nightingale : look, love, what envious streak* 
 ])o lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; 
 I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 
 
 Jul. Von light is not day-light, I know it, I: 
 It is some meteor, that the sun exhales. 
 To be to (hee this night a torch-bearer, 
 And light thee on thy way to Mantua. 
 Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not (o be gone. 
 
 Rom. Let me be taen, let me be put to death; 
 I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
 I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, 
 'Tis but the pale re (lex of Cynthia's brow ; 
 Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do bea? 
 The vanity heaven so high above our heads: 
 I have more care to stay, than will <o yo; — 
 Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — 
 How is't, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day. 
 
 Jul. It is, it is. hie hence, be gone, away; 
 It is the lark that sings so out of tune. 
 Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps 
 Some say, the lark makes sweet division , 
 'J'his doth not so, for she divideth ris : 
 Some say, the lark and loathed toa« change eyen, 
 O, now 1 would they had cliaiig'd voices too! 
 .Siii'-e aim iiom arm (hat voice doth us affray. 
 
734 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Hunting thee hence, with hiints-np to the day. 
 O, Jiow be gone ; more liglit and light it grows. 
 i?^OT. IViore light and light ? — more dark and dark 
 our woes. 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. Madam ! 
 
 Jul. Nurse? ' _ [ber: 
 
 Nursfi. Yonr lady mother's coming to yourcham- 
 The day is broke ; be wary, look about. 
 
 [Exit Nurse. 
 Jul. Tlien, window, let day in, and let life out. 
 Jlom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll de- 
 scend. {Romeo descends.) 
 Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my 
 friend ! 
 I must hear from thee every day i'the hour. 
 For in a minute there are many days: 
 
 ! by this coimt I shall be much in years, 
 Ere I again behold my Romeo. 
 
 Kom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity 
 That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. 
 
 Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again ? 
 
 Rom. \ doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve 
 For sweet discourses in our time to come. 
 
 Jul. O God ! I have an ill-divining soul; 
 IMethinks, 1 see thee, now thou art below. 
 As one dead in the bottom of a tomb : 
 Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. 
 
 Rom. And trust ine, love, in mv eye so do yon: 
 Di-y sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu ! 
 
 [Exit Runieo. 
 
 Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle : 
 If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him, 
 'Chat is renown'd for faith ? Be fickle, fortune; 
 For then I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, 
 But send him hack. 
 
 La Cap. [Within.) Ho, daughter! are you up? 
 
 Jid. VV^ho is't that calls ? is it my lady mother ? 
 !s she not down so late, or up so early .'' 
 What unacciistom'd cause procures her hither ? 
 
 Enter Lady Cai'ULET. 
 
 La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet'' 
 
 /(//. Madam, I am not well. 
 
 La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's 
 
 death ? 
 
 What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? 
 
 An if thou could'st, thou could'st not n)ake him live : 
 
 Inerefore, have done: Some grief shews much 
 
 of love ; 
 But much of grief shews still .some want of wit. 
 
 Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. 
 
 La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the 
 Which you weep for. [friend 
 
 Jul. Feeling so the loss, 
 
 1 cannot choose but ev'er weep the friend. 
 
 La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for 
 his death, 
 ks that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. 
 ' Jul. What villain, madam? 
 
 La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo. 
 
 Jill. Villain and he are many miles asunder. 
 God pardon him ! I do, with all my heart : 
 And yet, no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. 
 
 La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer 
 lives. 
 
 Jul. Ay, madam,from the reach of these my hands. 
 'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death ! 
 
 La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou 
 not : 
 Then weep no ir.ore. I'll send to one in Mantua, — 
 Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, — 
 That shall bestow on him so sure a danght. 
 That he shall socm keep Tybalt company : 
 And then, 1 hope, thou wilt be satisfied. 
 
 Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied 
 With Romeo, till I beliold him — dead — 
 Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd :— 
 Madam, if you could find out but a man 
 
 To bear a poison, I would temper it; 
 'i'hat Romeo should, upon receipt tiiereof, 
 Soon sleep in quiet. — O, how my heart abhors 
 To hear hirn nam'd, — and cannot come to hjm,-~ 
 To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt 
 Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him ! 
 
 La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll Sud sar'h 
 a man. 
 But now I'll tell the joyful tidings, girl. 
 
 Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: 
 What are they, I beseech your ladyship? 
 
 La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, 
 child ; 
 One, who, to put thee from tliy heaviness. 
 Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, 
 That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for. 
 
 Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that? 
 
 La. Cup. Many my child, early next Thursday 
 morn, 
 The gallant, young, and noble gentleman. 
 The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church. 
 Shall happily make tliee there a joyful bride. 
 
 Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too. 
 He shall not make me there a joyful bride. 
 I wonder at this haste ; that I must wed 
 Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. 
 1 pray you, tell my lord and father, madam. 
 I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear. 
 It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate. 
 Rather than Paris: — There are news indeed ! 
 
 La. Cap. Here conies your fcther; tell him so 
 yourself. 
 And see how he will take it at your hands. 
 
 Enter Capulet and Nurse. 
 
 Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; 
 But for the sui:set of my brother's sou, 
 It rains downright. — 
 
 How now ? a conduit, girl ? what, still iu tears ? 
 Everaiore showering ? in one little body 
 I'hou conterfeit's a bark, a sea, a wind : 
 For still thy eyes, which 1 may call the sea, 
 Do ebb and flow with tears : the bark thy body is. 
 Sailing in this salt flood ; the winds, thy sighs ; 
 W ho, — raging with thy tears, and they with them,— 
 Without a sudden calm, will overset 
 Th.y tempest-tossed body. — How now, wife? 
 Have you deliver'd to her our decree ? 
 
 La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives 
 you thanks. 
 I would the fool were married to her grave ! 
 
 Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, 
 wife. 
 How! will she none? doth she not give ms thanks? 
 Is she not proud ? doth she not count her bless'd. 
 Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought 
 So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom ? 
 
 Jul. Not proud, you have ; but thankful, that yon 
 have : 
 Proud can I never be of what I hate ; 
 But thankful even for hate, that is meant love 
 
 Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic! What 
 is this ? [not :— 
 
 Prond,— and, I thank you,— and, I thank you 
 And yet not oroud ;— Mistress minion, you, 
 Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds. 
 But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next. 
 To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church. 
 Or 1 will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 
 Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! 
 You tallow-face ! 
 
 La. Cap. Fye, fye ! what are you mad? 
 
 Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, 
 Hear me with patience but to speak a word. 
 
 Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient 
 wretch '. 
 I tell thee what,— get thee to church o'Thursday, 
 Or never alter look me in the face : 
 Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; 
 
Act ly. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 My finfierK itch. — Wife, we srarce thoiignt us 
 
 bless d. 
 That God hath sent us but tliis only child ; 
 Hut now I see this one is one too much, 
 And that we have a curse in having her : 
 Out on her, hilding! 
 
 Nurse. God in heaven bless her ! 
 
 Vou are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. 
 Cc/p. And why, my lady wisdom ? hold your 
 tongue, 
 Good prudence ; sniatter with your gossips, go. 
 Nurse, I speak no treason. 
 Cap. O, God ye good den! 
 
 Nurse. ]\Iay not one speak ? 
 C(tp. Peace, yon mumbling fool ! 
 
 Ulter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, 
 For here we need it not. 
 La. Cap. You. are too hot. 
 
 Cap. God's bread ! it makes me mad : Day, 
 night, late, early. 
 At home, abroad, alone, in company. 
 Waking, or sleeping, stiJl my care hath been 
 To have her match'd : and having now provided 
 A gentleman of princely parentage, ~ 
 Of lair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 
 StuiV'd ^as they say,) with honourable parts, 
 Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man, — 
 And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
 A whining mainmet, in her fortune's tender, 
 To answer — /'// nut ived, — / cannot lave, 
 I am too yonng. — I pray you pardon me; — 
 But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you: 
 Graze where you will, you shall not house with me; 
 Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. 
 Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: 
 An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend ; 
 An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets, 
 For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee. 
 Nor what IS mine shall never do thee good : 
 Tr'ist to't, betliink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. Is there no pity sitting in (he clouds, 
 That sees into the boltom of my grief? 
 O, sweet my mother, cast me not away ! 
 Delay this marriage for a month, a week; 
 Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
 In that dim monument, where Tybalt lies. 
 
 La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word ; 
 Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit. 
 
 Jul. O God ! — O nurse ! how shall this be pre- 
 vented ? 
 My husband is on heart, my faith in heaven ; 
 How shall that faith rt-turn again to earth. 
 Unless that husband sent it me from heaven 
 By leaving earth ?— comfort me, counsel me. — 
 Alack, alack, that heaven should oractise stratagems 
 Upon so soft a subject as myself r- 
 VV hat say'st thou '? hast thou not a 
 .Some comfort, nurse. 
 
 Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo 
 
 Is banished ; and all tworld to nothing. 
 That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; 
 Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. 
 Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, 
 I think it best you married with the county. 
 O, he's a lovely gentleman ! 
 Romeo's a dishclout to him ; an eagle, madam. 
 Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye, 
 As Paris hatn. Beshrew my very heart, 
 I think you are happy in this secoifd match. 
 For it excels your first : or if it did not, 
 \'our first is dead ; or 'twere as good he were, 
 .As living here, and you no use of him. 
 Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart ? 
 Nurse. From ray soul too ; 
 
 Or else beshrew them both. 
 Jul. Amen. 
 
 Nurse. To what ? 
 
 Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous 
 much. 
 Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone 
 
 a word of joy ? 
 
 Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, 
 To make cotii'ession. and to be absoU'd. 
 
 Nurse. Majry, I will ; and tins is wisely done. 
 
 [Esit. 
 
 Jul. Ancient damnation ! O nio.>it wicked fiend.' 
 Is it more sin — to wisii me thus (brsworn, 
 Or to dispraise my lord « ith that .same tongue, 
 Wliich she hath prais'd him with abo\e compare 
 So many thousand times';' — Go, counsellor; 
 Thou and my bosom jiencefoith shall be twain. — 
 III to the friar, to know his remedy : 
 Hall else fail, myself have power to die, [Exit 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Friar Laurence'.-; Cell. 
 Enter Friar Laukence and Paris. 
 
 Frl. On Thursday, sir':* the time is very short. 
 
 Par. iMy father Capiilet will have it so; 
 And I am nothing slow to slack his hasle. 
 
 Fri. ^'ou say. yon do not know the lady's mind : 
 Uneven is the course, I like it not. 
 
 Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death. 
 And therefore ha\es little talk'd of love ; 
 For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 
 Now, sir, her father counts it daugeroiis. 
 That she doth give her sorrow so much sway; 
 And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, 
 To stop the inundation of her tears; 
 Which, too much minded by herself alone. 
 May be put from her by society : 
 Now do you know the reason of this haste. 
 
 Fri. 1 would 1 knew not why it should be slov'd. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. 
 
 Enter JuLlET. 
 
 Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife ! 
 
 Jul. That may be, sir. when I may be a wife. . 
 
 Par. That may he, must be, love, on Thursday 
 
 Jul. V\ liat must be shall he. next, 
 
 Fri. That's a certain text. 
 
 Par. Come you to make coiifession to this father? 
 
 Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you. 
 
 Par. Do not deny to Inm, that yon love"me. 
 
 Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him. 
 
 Par. So will you, 1 am sure, that you love me. 
 
 Jul. If I do so. it will bt- of more piice, «• 
 
 Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. 
 
 Par. Poorsonl, thy face is much abus'd witii tears. 
 
 Jul, The tears have got small victoi^' by tiiat ; 
 For It was had enougli, hfiore their spite. 
 
 Par. Tlu>u wrong'st it, more than tears, with that 
 report. 
 
 Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth ; 
 And wiiat I spake, I spake it to my face. 
 
 J^ar. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd iL 
 
 Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. 
 Are you at leisure, holy father, now ; 
 Or shall I c<iine to you at evening mass ? [now. — 
 
 .Fri. My leisiiri' serves me, pensive daughter, 
 ]My lord, we miist entreat the time alone. 
 
 Par. Gild shield, I should disturb devotion .' — 
 Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : 
 Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss. {Exit. 
 
 Jul. O, shut the door ! and when thou hast dont- so, 
 Come weep with me : Past hope, past cure, (>ast help I 
 
 Fri. Ah,* Juliet, I already kiiow thy grief; 
 It strains me past the compass of my witj ; 
 I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it, 
 On Thursday next be married to this ciuiutv. 
 
 Jul, Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this. 
 Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: 
 If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help. 
 Do thou but call my resolution wise, 
 And with this knlle I'll help it presently. 
 God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou ou» han'isj 
 And ere this tiand, by thee to Romeo seal'd. 
 Shall be the label to another deed. 
 Or my true heart with treacherous revolt 
 
73G 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 Turn (o another, tliis shall slay them botli : 
 'I'heretore, out ol'thy loiig-pxjjeiienc'fi time. 
 Give me some present counsel ; or, bcliold, 
 'Twixt my extremes and me tiiis bloody knife 
 Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that, 
 VV'hicii the cmnmissiou ot thy years and art 
 CljiJid to no issue oC true honour bring. 
 Be no' «o lon^ to speak. ; I long to die, 
 li what thon speak'st speak not of remedy. 
 
 Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope 
 Which craves as desperate an execution 
 As that is desperate which we would prevent. 
 If, rather than to marry county Pans, 
 Thou hadst tlie strength of will to slay thyself; 
 Tlien is it likely, tiioii wilt undertake 
 A thing like death to cliide away this shame, 
 That cop'st with death liimself to scape from it; 
 And, if thou d.ir'st, I'll give thee remedy. 
 
 J/d. O, bid me leap, ratiier than marry Paris, 
 From olf the battlements ot' yonder tower ; 
 <Jr walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk, 
 Where serpents are; chain me with roaring' bears ; 
 Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
 O'er-coverd cpiite with dead men's rattling bones, 
 Witli reeky shanks, and yellow chapless-skulls ; 
 Or bid me go into a new-made grave, 
 And hide me with a dead man in lis shroud ; 
 Things that, to hear them told, have made me 
 
 tremble ; 
 And I will do it without fear or doubt, 
 To live an uustain'd wile to my sv^'eet love. 
 
 Fri. Hold, then ; go home, be merry, give consent 
 To marry Paris; Wednesday is to-morrow; 
 To-morrow night look that thou lie alone. 
 Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: 
 'i'ake thou this phfal, being then in bed. 
 And this distilled liquor drink thou olf: 
 When, presently, through all thy veins !(hall run 
 A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize 
 Each vital spirit ; fur no pulse shall keep 
 His natural progress, but surcea.se to beat : 
 No warmlli, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st ; 
 'J'lie roses in tliy lips and clieeks shall fade 
 'I'o paly ashes ; thy eyes' windows fall. 
 Like death, when he shuts up the day of life ; 
 Each part, depriv'd of supple government, 
 Sliall .-ititf, and staik, and cold, appear like death: 
 And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death 
 'I'hou shalt remain lull two and forty hours. 
 And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. 
 Now when tne bridegroom in the morning comes 
 To rouse thee from thy bed, there art tliou dead : 
 Then, (as the manner of our country is,) 
 In thy best robes imcover'il on the bier. 
 Thou shalt be borne to tliat same ancient vault, 
 Where all the kindred of the Gapulets lie. 
 In the mean time, against thou shalt awake. 
 Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift; 
 And hither shall he come; and he and 1 
 Will watch thy waking, and that very night 
 Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Alantua. 
 And this shall free thee from this piesent shame ; 
 If no uncoiistant toy, nor womanish fear, 
 Abate thy valour in the acting it. 
 
 Jul. Give, O give ine I tell me not of fear. 
 
 Fri. Hold ; get you gone, be strong and prosperous 
 [n this resolve : 111 send a friar with spe*:d 
 To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. 
 
 Jul. Love, give rae strength ! and strength sh di 
 help ati'ord. 
 Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in CopideVs House. 
 Enter CaPULet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and 
 
 Servauts. 
 Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. — 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Sirr:ih. go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 
 
 '2. Serv. Vou sliall base none ill, sir : for I'll try if 
 thej ran li(■;^ their hiigers 
 
 Cap. IIow canst thou fry them so? 
 
 2 Serv. Many, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick 
 Ids own lin.;eis ; therefore he, that cannot iici bis 
 fingers, goes not with me. 
 
 Cap. Go, begone.— [Exit Servant. 
 
 We shall be much iinfuriiish'd for this time. — 
 What, is my daiiyhter gone to friar Laurence ? 
 
 Nurse. .Ay, forsooth. 
 
 Ca/). Well, he may chance to do .some good oq her : 
 A peevish sell-wiU'd harlotry it is. 
 
 Enter 3 VLIET. 
 
 Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with 
 merry look. 
 
 Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have yoii 
 been gadding :" 
 
 .Tul, Where I have learn'd rae to repent the sin 
 Of disobedient opposition 
 To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd 
 By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, 
 And beg you pardon: — Pardon, I beseech yon! 
 Henceibrward I am ever rul'd by you. 
 
 Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this; 
 I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. 
 
 Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; 
 And gave liini what becomed love I might. 
 Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. [up. 
 
 Cap. Why, I am glad oii't ; this, is well, — stand 
 This IS as't should be. — Let me see th*" county ; 
 Ay, marry, go, I say, and fi^tch him hitiier. — 
 Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar. 
 All our whole city is much bound to lain. 
 
 Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet. 
 To help me sort such needful ornaments 
 As you think fit to furnish fiie to-morrow'^ 
 
 lia. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time 
 enough. 
 
 Cap. Go, nurse, go vvith her: — we'll to church 
 tomorrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse 
 
 La. Cap. We shall be short in our prov isii ii ; 
 'Tis now near night. 
 
 Cap. Tush ! I will stir about, 
 
 And all things sliall be we.l, I warrant thee, wile; 
 Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her ; 
 I'll not to bed to-night; — let me alone ; 
 I'll play the housewife for this once. — What, ho I-r 
 They are all forth: Well, I will walk myself 
 To county Paris, to prejiare him up 
 Against tomorrow: my heart is wond'rous light. 
 Since this .same wayward girl is so reclaim d. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SctrsE III. — Juliet's Chamber. 
 Enter JuLlET and Nurse. 
 Jul. Ay, those attires are best:— But, gentle nurse, 
 I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night ; 
 For I have need of many orisons 
 To move the heavens to smile upon my state,^ 
 Which, well thou know'st, is cross and lull o."sin. 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet. 
 
 La. Cap. What, are you btisy':' do you need my 
 help? 
 
 Jul. No, madam ; we have cuH'd such necesyaries 
 As are behoved for our state to inorrovv : 
 So please you, let me now be left alone. 
 And let the nurse this night sit up with you; 
 I'or, I am sure, you have your hands lull all, 
 111 this so sudden business. 
 
 La. Cap. Good night ! 
 
 Get thee to bed. and rest; for thou iia.'^t need. ^ 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Capulet and Name. 
 
 Jul. Farewell 1 — God knows, when we shall iiu#^t 
 again. 
 I have a famt cold fear thrills through my i eins. 
 That almost freezes up tne heat ot liie: 
 I'll call them back again to comfort me; — 
 Nurse!— What should she do here f 
 My d.smal scene i needs must act aioii«»,~ 
 Come, phial. — 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 737 
 
 WHiat if this mixture do not work at all V 
 Must I ot I'orce be married to the county ? — 
 No, no; — this shall forbid it: — lie tiiou tiiere. — 
 
 [Layir'f/ down a dayger. 
 What if it be a poison, whsch the I'nar 
 Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead ; 
 Lest in this marriage he should be dishooour'd. 
 Because he married me before to Romeo? 
 I fear, it is : and yet, niethinks, it should not. 
 For he hath still been tried a holy man : 
 I will not entertain so bad a thought — 
 How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
 I wake before the time that Romeo 
 Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! 
 Shall I not then be stilled in the vault, 
 To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in. 
 And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? 
 Or, if I live, is it not very like. 
 The horrible conceit of death and night. 
 Together with the terror of the place, — 
 As in a vault, an ancient receptacle. 
 Where, for these many hundred years, the bones 
 Of all my buried ancestors are paok'd ; 
 Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 
 Liest fest'ring in his shioud ; where, as they say, 
 At some hours in the night spirits resort ; 
 Alack, alack ! is it not likf;, that \, 
 So early waking, — what with loathsome smells ; 
 And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, 
 'J'hat living mortals, hearing them, rim mad; — 
 O ! if I wake, shall I cot be distraught, 
 Environed with all these hideous fears? 
 And madly play with my forefathers' joints ? 
 And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ? 
 And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, 
 As with a club, dash out my desperate brains ? 
 O, look ! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost 
 Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 
 Upon a rapier's point : — Stay, 'J'ybait, stay ! 
 Romeo, 1 come ! tliis do I drink to thee. 
 
 (6'«e throws herself upon tfie bed.) 
 
 Scene IV. — Capulel's Hall. 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. 
 La. Cap. Hold, take these ke^s, and fetch more 
 
 spices, nurse. [pastry. 
 
 Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the 
 
 Enter Capulet. 
 
 Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir ! the second cock hath 
 crow'd, 
 The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock: — 
 Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica : 
 Spare not for cost. 
 
 Nurse. Go, go, you cot-quean, go. 
 
 Get you to bed ; 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow. 
 For this night's watching. (now 
 
 Cap. No, not a whit ; What ! I have watch'd ere 
 All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. 
 
 La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in 
 your time ; 
 But I will watch you from such watching now. 
 
 [Exeunt Lady Capuht and Nurse. 
 
 Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood ! — Now, fel- 
 What's there ? [low, 
 
 Eitter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets. 
 
 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir ; but I know not 
 
 what. 
 Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv, 
 — Sirrah, fetch drier logs ; 
 Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are. 
 
 3 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs. 
 And nevei trouble Peter for the matter. [^Exit. 
 Cap. 'Mass, and well said : A merry whoreson ! ha, 
 Thou shaltbe logger-head. — Good faith, 'tis day; 
 The county will be here with music straight, 
 
 {Music within.) 
 For so he said he would. I hear him near: — 
 Nurse ! — Wile ! — what, ho ! — what nurse, I say ! 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 Go, waken Juliet, go, and irini her up ; 
 III go and chat witii Paris:— Hie, make ba^te. 
 Make haste ! the bridegroom he is come already : 
 iVlake haste, I say ! [Exettnt. 
 
 Scene V. — Juliet's Chamber ; Juuet on the bed 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. Mistress! — what, mistress! — Juliet! — 
 fast, I warrant her she: — 
 Why, lamb ! — why, lady I — fy, you slug- a bed ! — 
 Why, love, I say I — madam ! sweetheart ! — why, 
 bride !— [now ; 
 
 What, not a word ! — you take your pennyworths 
 Sleep for a week ; for the next night, I warrant, 
 The county Paris hath set up his rest, 
 'J'hat you shall rest but little. — God forgive me, 
 (Marry, and amen !) how sound is .-jhe asleep ! 
 I needs must wake her; — Madam, madam, madam! 
 Ay, let the county take you in your bed ; 
 He'll fright you up, i'laith.— Will it not be? 
 What, drest ! and in your clothes ! and down again ! 
 I must needs wake you . — Lady ! lady ! lady ! 
 Alas ! alas ! — Help ! hejp ! my lady's dead ! 
 O, well-a-day, that ever I was born ! — 
 Some aqua-vitae, ho ! — my lord ! my lady ! 
 
 Enter Lady Oapulet. 
 
 La, Cap. What noise is here ? 
 
 Nurse. O lamentable day ! 
 
 La. Cap, What is the matter ? 
 
 Nurse. Look, look ! O heavy day ! 
 
 La. Cap. me, O me ! — my child, my only life. 
 Revive, look up, or I will die with thee ! — 
 Help, help! — call help. 
 
 Enter Capulet. 
 
 Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth : her lord is 
 come. [the day I 
 
 Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead ; alack 
 
 La Cap. Alack the day ! she's dead, she's dead, 
 she's dead. 
 
 Cap. Ha! let me see her : — Out, alas! she's cold; 
 Her blood is settled, and her joints are sliti"; 
 Life and these lips iiave long been separated ; 
 Death lies on Iver, like an untimely frost 
 Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. 
 Accursed time ; unfortunate old man ! 
 
 Nurse- O lamentable day ! 
 
 Jja. Cap. O woful time ! [waiT, 
 
 Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me 
 Ties up my tongue, and will not Itt me speak. 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Paris, tvith Mu- 
 sicians. 
 
 Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to cliurefar 
 
 Cap. Ready to go, but never to retiisn 
 O son, the night beiore thy wedding day 
 Hath death lain with thy bride . — See, there she lies. 
 Flower as she was, deflowered by him. _ 
 Death is my son-in-law, death is rny heir; 
 My da-ighter he hath wedded ! I will die, 
 And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's. _ 
 
 Par. Have I thought long to see tills inoroing's 
 face. 
 And doth it give me such a sight as this 
 
 La. Cap. .\ccurs'd, unhappy, wretcLi.id, hat«iis) 
 day! 
 Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw 
 In lasting labour of his pilgrimage ! 
 But one, poor one, one poor and loving child. 
 But one thing to rejoice aud solace in. 
 And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight. 
 
 Nurse. O woe ! O woiul, woful, woiuiday! 
 ^lost lamentable day ! most woful day, 
 That ever, e»er, I did yet behold! 
 O day ! O day ! O day : O hateful day I 
 Never was seen so black a day as this 
 O woful day, O woful day I 
 
738 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act Y. 
 
 Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain ! 
 Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, 
 By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! — 
 O love ! O life !— not Life, bnt love in death ! 
 
 Cap- Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, 
 kiU'd!- 
 Unconifortable time ! why catn'st thou now 
 To murder murder our solemnity :" — 
 O child ! O child !— my soul, and not my child !— 
 Dead art thou, dead !— alack ! my child is dead ! 
 And, with my child, my joys are buried ! [not 
 
 Fri. Peace, ho, for shame ! confusion's cure lives 
 In these confusions. Heaven and yourself 
 Had part in this fair maid ; now heaven hath all. 
 And all the better is it for the miiid : 
 Your part in her you could not keep from death ; 
 But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. 
 The most you sought whs — her promotion; 
 For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd : 
 And weep ye now, seeinj^ she is advanc'd. 
 Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? 
 O, in this love, you love your child so ill, 
 'I'hat you run mad, seeing that siie is well : 
 She's not well married, that lives married long; 
 But she's best married, that dies married young* 
 Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
 On this fair corse ; and, as the custom is, 
 In all her best array bear her to church : 
 For though fond nature bids us all lament. 
 Yet nature's tears are leason's merriment. 
 
 Cstp. All things, that we ordained festival. 
 Turn Iroin tlieir office to black tuneral : 
 Our instruments, to melancholy bells; 
 Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast; 
 Our solenm hymns to sullen dirges change ; 
 Our bridal (lowers serve for a buried corse. 
 And all tilings change them to the contrary. 
 
 Fii. Sir, go you in — anil, madam, go with him; — 
 And go, sir Paris ; every one prepare 
 To fullow this lair corse unto her grave : 
 The heavens do low'r upon you, lor some ill ; 
 iVlove them no more, by crossing their high will. 
 
 [Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and 
 Pnar. 
 
 1 Mris. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be 
 fjone. 
 
 Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up ; 
 For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit. 
 
 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. 
 
 Enter Peter. 
 
 Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, 
 hedrl's ease : O, an you will have me live, play — 
 heart's ease. 
 
 J Mus. Why hearts ease ? 
 
 Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 
 — My heart is full of woe : O, play me some 
 meiry dump, to comfort me. 
 
 2 Mus. Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play now. 
 Pet. You will not then? 
 
 Mus. No. 
 
 Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 
 
 1 Mus. What will you give us ? 
 
 Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek; I 
 will give you the minstrel. 
 
 1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. 
 
 Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger 
 on your pate. I will carry no crotchets : I'll re you, 
 I'll /a you: Do you note me? 
 
 1 Mus. An you re us, and /a us, you note us, 
 
 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put 
 out your wit. 
 
 Pel. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry- 
 beat yon with an iron wit, and put up my iron dag- 
 ger : — Answer me like men : 
 
 When griping griff the heart doth wound. 
 And doleful dumps the mind oppress. 
 Then music with her silver sound; 
 VVTiy, .silver soundf why, music with her silver 
 totmdt 
 
 What say you, Simon Catling? 
 
 [sound. 
 
 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver liatu a sweet 
 Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hnnh Uebeck? 
 
 2 Miia. 1 sny—silver sound, because musicians 
 sound lor siUer. [post. 
 
 Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Sound- 
 
 3 Mus. 'I'aith, I know not wiiat to say. 
 
 Pet. O, 1 cry you mercy ! you are the singer : J 
 will say lor you. it is — music ivith her silver sound. 
 because such fellows as you have seldom gold t<ir 
 sounding : — 
 
 Then music, with her silver sound, 
 With speedy help doth lend redress. 
 
 [Exit, singing:. 
 
 1 Mus, What a pestilent knave is this same? 
 
 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack ! Come, we'll in here ; 
 tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Mantua. A Street. 
 
 Enter Romeo, 
 
 Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, 
 My dreams presage some joyful news at hand : 
 ]My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ; 
 And, all this day, an iinaccustora'd spirit 
 Lifts me above the ground with cheertiil thoughts. 
 I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead ; 
 (Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to 
 
 think,) 
 And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, 
 That I reviv'd, and was an emperor. 
 Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, 
 When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! 
 
 Enter Balthas.\r. 
 News from Verona! — How now, Balthasar? 
 Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar ? 
 How doth my lady? Is my father well? 
 How fares my Juliet? 'i'hat I ask again 
 For nothing can be ill, if she be well. 
 
 Bal. Then she is wf II. and notJiing can be ill; 
 Her body sleeps in Capers monument. 
 And her immortal part with angels lives. 
 I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault. 
 And presently took post to tell it you : 
 
 pardon me for bringing these ill news. 
 Since you did leave it for my office, sir, 
 
 Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars I — 
 Thou know'st my lodging : get me ink and paper, 
 And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night, 
 
 Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thiii : 
 Your looks are pale and wild, and do import 
 Some misadventure, 
 
 I Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd , 
 
 Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do : 
 
 ' Ha.st thou no letters to me from the friar? 
 
 I Bal. No, my good lord. 
 
 Rom. No matter; get thee goae, 
 
 And hire those horses ; I'll be with thee straight. 
 
 I [Exit Ballhasar 
 
 . Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight. 
 Let's see for means : — O, mischief! thou art swift 
 'i'o enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! 
 
 1 do remember an apothecary, — 
 
 And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted 
 
 In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
 
 Culling of simples; meagre were his looks. 
 
 Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; 
 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 
 An alligator stun d, and other skins 
 
 Of ill sliap'd fishes; and about his shelves 
 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes. 
 
 Green earthen pots, bladder.s, and musty seeds. 
 
 Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rusr .-, 
 
 Were thinly scattered, to make up a shew- 
 
 Notiii;; this penury, to myself I said — 
 
 An if a man did need a poison now. 
 
 Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
 
 Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 
 O, tliig same thought did but forerun my need ; 
 And this same needy man must sell it me. 
 As I remember, this should be the house : 
 Being holiday, the beggar's sliop is shut. — 
 What, ho! apothecary! 
 
 Enter Apothecary. 
 Ap. Who calls so loud ? 
 
 Ro7n. Come hither, man. — I see that thou art poor ; 
 Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have 
 A dram of poison ; such soon-speeding geer 
 As will disperse itself through all the vt-ins. 
 That the life-weary tiiker may fall dead ; 
 And that the trunk may be dischargd of breath 
 As violently, as hasty powder fir'd 
 Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. 
 
 Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua "s law 
 Is death, to any he that utters them. 
 
 Iio9n. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness. 
 And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks, 
 Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes. 
 Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 
 The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law : 
 The world affords no law to make thee rich ; 
 'J'hen be not poor, but break it, ar.d take this. 
 Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. 
 Horn. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 
 Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
 And drink it off: and, if you had the strength 
 Of twentv men, it would despatch you straight. 
 Rom. There is thy gold ; worse poison to men's 
 souls. 
 Doing more murders in this loathsome world. 
 Than these poor compounds, that thou may 'st not sell : 
 1 sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. 
 Farewell ; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. 
 Come, cordial, and not poison ; go with me 
 'I'o Juliet's grave, for there must J use thee. 
 
 [Exemii. 
 Scene II. — Friar Laurence's Cell. 
 Enter Friar JoiIN. 
 John. Holy Franciscan friar ! brother, ho! 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence. 
 hau. This same should be the voice of friar John. — 
 Welcome from Mantua: Wliatsays Romeo? 
 Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. 
 
 John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out, 
 One of our order, to associate me. 
 Here in this city visiting the sick, 
 And finding him, the searchers of the town. 
 Suspecting that we both were in a house 
 Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 
 Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth ; 
 So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. 
 Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo"? 
 John. I could not send it, — here it is again, — 
 Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, 
 So fearful were they of infection. 
 
 Lau. Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood. 
 The letter was not nice, but full of charge. 
 Of dear import; and the neglecting it 
 May do much danger : Friar John, go hence ; 
 Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight 
 Unio my cell. 
 John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit. 
 Lau. Now must I to the monument alone; 
 Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake ; 
 She will beshrew me much, that Romeo 
 Hath had no notice of these accidents : 
 But I will write again to Mantua, 
 Aiid keep her at my cell till Rouieo come; 
 Poor living corse, cios'd in a dead man's tomb ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene HI. — A Church-Ynrd; in it, a Monument 
 belon(j,ing to the Capulets. 
 
 Ei«/«r Paris, and his Page, bearing flowers, and 
 a torch. 
 Par. Give me thy torch, boy : He.ice, and stand 
 aiool ; — 
 
 Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. 
 Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along, 
 Holding thine ear clo.se to the hollow ground ; 
 So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread, 
 (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves.) 
 But thou shalt hear it : whistle then to me. 
 As signal that thou hear'st something approach. 
 Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. 
 
 Paje. I am almost afraid to stand alone 
 Here in the churchyard ; yet I will adventure. 
 
 {Retires.) 
 
 Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bri. 
 dal bed : 
 Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain 
 The perfect model of eternity; 
 Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain. 
 Accept this latest favour at my hands; 
 That living honour'd thee, and, being dead. 
 With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb! 
 
 {The hoy ivhistlea.) 
 The boy gives warning, something doth approach. 
 What cursed foot wanders this way to-night. 
 To cross my obsequies, and true love's rites? 
 What, with a torch!— muffle me, night, awhile. 
 
 {Retires ) 
 
 Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a Torch, 
 Mattock, §fc. 
 
 Rotn. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching 
 iron. 
 Hold, take this letter; early in the morning 
 See thou deliver it to my lord and father. 
 Give me the light : Upon thy life I charge thee, 
 Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, 
 And do not interrupt me in my course. 
 Why I descend into this bed of death, 
 Is, partly, to behold my lady's face : 
 But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger 
 A precious ring ; a ring, that 1 must use 
 In dear eniploymeiit : therefore hence, be gone :— 
 But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 
 In what I fuither shall intend to do. 
 By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, 
 And strew this hungry church-yard with thy lirobs : 
 The time and my intents are savage-wild ; 
 More fierce, and more inexorable far. 
 Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. 
 
 Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble yoiu 
 Rom. So sha'lt thou shew me friendship. — Take 
 thou that : 
 JLive, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. 
 
 Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout ; 
 His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. {Retires.^ 
 Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death 
 Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth. 
 Thus 1 enforce thy rotten jaws to open. 
 
 {Breaking open the door of the Monument .] 
 And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food ! 
 
 Pur. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, 
 That murder'd my love's cousin ; — with which grie.^" 
 It is supposed, the fair creature died, — 
 And here is come to do some villanous sliame 
 To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him. — 
 
 {Advances. 
 Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague; 
 Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death '? 
 Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee : 
 Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. 
 
 Rom. I must, indeed, and therefore came I hither, - 
 Good gentle youth, tempt aot a desperate man; 
 Fly hence and leave me; — think upon these gone, 
 Let them afl'right thee. — I beseech thee, youth. 
 Heap not another sin upon my head, 
 By urging me to fury : — O, be gone ! 
 By heaven, I love thee better than myself; 
 For I come hither arm'd against myself: 
 Stay not, be gone : — live, and hereafter say— 
 A madman's mercy bade thee run away 
 
 Par. 1 do defy thy conjurations. 
 And do attach thee as a felon here. 
 
740 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act V, 
 
 Bom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then hnve at thee, 
 boy. They fight.) 
 
 Pag. O lord ! they fight: I will go call tlie untili. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Par. O, I am slain ! [Falls.]— IC thou be mer- 
 ciful, 
 Open the tmib, lay me with Juliet. {Dies.) 
 
 Rum, In faith, I will : — Let me peruse this face; — 
 Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris ! — 
 What said my man, when my betossed soul 
 Did not attend him as we rode ? I think, 
 He told me, Paris should have married Juliet: 
 Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ? 
 Oram I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 
 To think it was so? — O, give me thy hand, 
 One writ with me in sour misfortune's book ! 
 I'll bury thee in a trinmpiiant grave. — 
 A grave ? O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth, 
 For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 
 This vault a feasting presence fifll of light. 
 Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. 
 
 (Laying Paris in the Monument.) 
 How oft, when men are at the point of death. 
 Have they been merry ? which their keepers call 
 A lightning before death : O, how may 1 
 CaJI tlijs a lightning?— O, my love ! my wife I 
 Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. 
 Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : 
 Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet 
 [s crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
 And death's pale flag is not ad\ anced lliere. — 
 Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
 O, what more favour can I do to thee, 
 Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain. 
 To sunder his, that was thine enemy ? 
 Forgive me, cousin ? — Ah, dear Juliet, 
 Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe 
 That unsubstantial death is amorous ; 
 And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
 Thee here in dark to be his paramour ? 
 For fear of that, I will still stay with thee ; 
 And never from this palace of dim night 
 Depart again ; here, here will I remain 
 With worms that are thy chamber-maids ; O, here 
 Will 1 set up my everlasting rest; 
 And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars [last .' 
 
 From this world- wearied flesh. — Eyes, look your 
 Arms, t^ke your last enibrace .' and lips, O you, 
 Tiie (loors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
 A dateless bargain to engrossing death I — 
 Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide ! 
 Tliou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 Tli'e dasumg rocks thy seasick weary bark ! 
 Here's to my love ! [Drinks.) O, true apothecary! 
 'i'hy drugs are quick. — Thus wiih a kiss I die. 
 
 (Dies.) 
 
 Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar 
 Laurence, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade. 
 
 Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night 
 Ha\e my old feet stuuibledat iiraves I — Wlio's there? 
 Who IS it, that consorts, so late, the dead ? 
 
 Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows 
 you well. 
 
 Fri. Bliss be upon you ! Tell me, good my friend, 
 What torch is youd', that vainly lends his light 
 To gruba and eyeless skulls ? as I discern, 
 l\ burneth in the Capels' monument. 
 
 Bal. It doth so, holy sir ; and there's my master, 
 One that you l»ve. 
 
 Fri. Who is it ? 
 
 Hal. Romeo. 
 
 Fri. How long hath he been there ? 
 
 Bal. Full half an hour. 
 
 Fri, Go with me to the vault. 
 
 Bal. I dare not, sir : 
 
 My niHster knows not but I am gone hence ; 
 Anfl le;iifuliy did menace me wilh death, 
 •1 I did stay to look on his intents. [me ; 
 
 tri. Stay, then. 111 gu alone : — Fear comes upon 
 
 O, much I fear some ill n lucky thing 
 
 Bal. As I did sleep under tins yew tree here. 
 I dreamt my master and another fought, 
 And that my master slew him. 
 
 Fri. Romeo ! — [A dvan cei .) 
 
 Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 
 The stuny entrance of this sepulchre ?— 
 What mean these masterless and gory sword.i 
 To lie discoloiir'd by this place of peace ? 
 
 [Enters the Monument.) 
 Romeo ! O, pale I — Who else ? what, Pans too ? 
 And steep'd in blood ? — Ah, what an unkind hour 
 Is guiltv of this lamentable chance ! 
 'i'he laify stirs. [Juliet wakes and stir! 
 
 Jul. O, comfortable friar, where is my lord i 
 I do remember well where I should be. 
 And there 1 am : — Where is my Romeo ? 
 
 [Nuise within.) 
 
 Fri. I hear some noise. — Lady, come from thatuesl 
 Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep ; 
 A greater Power than we can contradict 
 Hath thwarted our intents ; come, come away : 
 Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead ; 
 And Pans, too ; come, I'll dispose of thee 
 Among a sisterhood oi holy nuns : 
 Stay not to question, for the watch is coming ; 
 Come, go, good Juliet, — [Noise again.) I dure stay 
 no longer. [Exit. 
 
 Jul, Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. — 
 What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? 
 Poison. I see, hath r>een his timeless end : 
 O churl ! drink all ; and leave no iriendly drop. 
 To help me alter i — 1 will kiss thy lips : 
 Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them, 
 Ts make ine die with a restorative. [Kisses him 
 Thy lips are warm ! 
 
 I Watch. [ Within.) Lead, boy .-—Which way ? 
 
 Jul. Yea, noise? — tuen I'll le brief. — O U-d\ii>y 
 dagger ! [Snatching Romeo s dagijer.) 
 This is thy sneath ; [Stabs herself.) there rust, ami 
 
 dagger : 
 y sneat 
 let me die. 
 
 [Falls on Romeo's body, and dies.) 
 
 Enter Watch with the Page of Paris. 
 Page. This is the place ; there, where the torch 
 doth burn. 
 
 1 Watch. The ground is bloody : Search about 
 
 the churchyard : 
 Go, some of you ; whoe'er you find, attach. 
 
 [Exeunt some. 
 Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain ; — 
 And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly "dead, 
 VVho here hath lain these two days buried. — 
 Go tell the prince, — run to the Capiileta, — 
 Raise up the Montagues, — some others search ; — 
 
 [Exeunt other Watchmen. 
 We see the ground whereon tliese woes do lie; 
 But the true ground of all thesp piteous woes. 
 We cannot without circumstance descry. 
 
 Enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar. 
 
 2 Watch, Here's Romeo's man, we found him i 
 
 the churchyard. [hitlier 
 
 1 Watch, Hold hiui in safety, till the prince coiue 
 
 Enter another Watchman with Friar LAURENcii. 
 
 3 Watch. Here is a friar, tiiat trembles, sighs, 
 
 and weeps : 
 We took this mattock and this spade from iiim. 
 As he was coming from this churchyard side. 
 1 Watch. A great suspicion ; Stay the iriar too. 
 
 Enter the Prince and Attendants. 
 Prtnce. What misadventure is so eiirly up, 
 Thiit calls our person from our moiiiing's rest? 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capl'let, atid othtr*. 
 Cap What should it be, that taey so shriek 
 
 abroad ? 
 La. Cap. The people in the street cry— Romeo/ 
 Some — Juti«t, and some — Pans; and all run. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 741 
 
 VVitli open oiticiy, toward our monument 
 
 Prtncs. »Viiat fear is this, which startles in our 
 tars? [slain; 
 
 1 IVatcfu Sovereifjn, here lies the cciuity Paris 
 And llonieo dea'l ; and Juliet, dead belore. 
 Warm and new kill'd. 
 
 Prince. Seairh, seek, and know how this foul 
 murder comes. [man; 
 
 1 Tf'atch. Here is a friar, and slaugiiter'd Romeo's 
 With instruments upon them, tit to open 
 These (lead men's tnmhs. 
 
 Cap, O, heavens ! — O, wife ! look how our daugh- 
 ter bleeds ! 
 This daf;ger hath mista'en, — for, lo ! his house 
 fs empty on the back ot Montague, — 
 And is Miis-sheaUied in my daughter's bosom. 
 
 La. Cap. O me ! this sight ol' death is as a bell. 
 That warns my old age to a sepulchre. 
 
 Enter Montague and others. 
 
 Printe. Come, Montague ; for tliou art early up, 
 To see tliy son and heir more early down. 
 
 Moil. Alas, my liege, uiy wife is dead to-night; 
 Griel of my son's exile fiath stopp'd her breatii : 
 What further woe conspires against nune age l 
 
 Prince. Look, and thou shall see. 
 
 Man. O thou untaught ! what manners is in this. 
 To press before thy father to a grave '/ 
 
 Prince. Seal. up the mouth of outrage for a while. 
 Till we can clear these ambiguities, 
 And know their spring, tlieir head, their true 
 
 descent; 
 And then will I be general of your woes, 
 And lead you even to death : Mean time forbear, 
 And let mischance be slave to patience. — 
 Bring tortli the parties of suspicion. 
 
 Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least, 
 Y'et most suspected, as the time and place 
 Doth make against me, of this diretui murder; 
 And here ! stand, both to impeach and purge 
 Mysell condemned and myself excas'd. 
 
 Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know 
 in this. 
 
 Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath 
 Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 
 Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, 
 And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: 
 I married them ; and their stolen marriage-day 
 Was Tybalt's doonts day, whose untimely death 
 Ba-iLshd the new-made bridegroom (rom (his city; 
 For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. 
 You — to remove that siege of grief from her, — 
 Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce. 
 To county Paris : — 'l^ien conies she to me ; 
 And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means 
 To rid her from this second marriage. 
 Or, in my cell there would she kill herself. 
 Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, 
 A sleeping potion; which so took eflect 
 As 1 intended, for it wrought on her 
 The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, 
 That he should hither come as this dire night, 
 To help to lake her from her borrow'd grave, 
 £lftr,g ikvs time the potion's force should oeasfc 
 
 But he which bore my letter, friar John 
 
 Was staid by accident; and yesternight 
 
 llefurnd my leiter back: Toen all atone, 
 
 At the prefixed hour of her waking, 
 
 Came I to take her from her kindred's vaatt! ' 
 
 Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, 
 
 'I'ill 1 conviently could send to Rom o: 
 
 But, when I came (some mmute ere the time 
 
 Other awakening,) here untimely lay 
 
 The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead. 
 
 She wakes; and I entreated her come forth. 
 
 And bear tliis work of heaven with patience: 
 
 But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; 
 
 And she, too desperate, would not go with me 
 
 But (as it seems,) did violence on herself. 
 
 All this I know ; and to the marriage 
 
 Her nurse i.s privy : And, if aught in this 
 
 Miscarried by my fault, let my old life 
 
 Be 8a(Tilic'd, some hour befiire his time. 
 
 Unto the rigour of severest law. (man. 
 
 Prince. We still have known thee for a holy 
 Where's Rorneo's man i what can he saj in this '? 
 
 Bal. 1 brought my master news of Juliet's death- 
 And tuen in post he came from Mantua, ' 
 
 To this same place, to this same monument. 
 This letter he early bid me give his father ; 
 And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault, 
 If I departed not, and left him there. 
 
 Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.— 
 Where is the county's page, that rais'd the watch ''— 
 Sirrah, what made your master in this place i 
 
 Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's 
 grave; 
 And bid me stand aloof, and so I did : 
 Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb; 
 And, by and by, my master drew on him ; 
 And then I ran away to call the watch. 
 
 Prince. This letter doth make good the friar'* 
 words, 
 Their course of love, the tidings of her deSth : 
 And here he writes— that he did buy a poison 
 01 a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal 
 Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.— 
 Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!— 
 See, what a srourge is laid upon your hate. 
 That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love .' 
 And I, for winking at your discords too. 
 Have lost a brace of kinsmen :— all are nunish'd. 
 
 Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand: 
 This IS my daughter's jointure, for no more 
 Can I demand. 
 
 Mon. But I can give thee more : 
 
 For I will raise her statue in pure gold ; 
 That, while Verona by that name is known, 
 There shall no figure at such rate be set. 
 As that of true and faithful Juliet. 
 
 Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie ; 
 Poor sacrifices of our enmity ! [brinies ; 
 
 Prince. A glooming peace this morning witJi it 
 The sun, for sorrow, will not shew his head . 
 Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things ; 
 Some sha-ll be pardon'd, and some piii:ished : 
 For nexer was a story of more woe, 
 i'Hiin this of Juliet and her Romeo. (i£j(i.«i 
 
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 If the dramas of Shakspeare were (o be charncterised, each by the particular excellence which distinguishes it 
 from the rest, we must allow to the tragedy of Hamlet (he praise of variety. The inciaems are so numerous that 
 t'ji- argument of the play would make a long tale. The scenes are interchangeably diversihed with merriment and 
 solemnity with mernmeiit that includes judicious and instructive observations; and solemnity not strained by poe- 
 tical violence above the natural sentiments of man. New characters appear from time to time in continual successiou, 
 exiiibiting various forms of l^'e, and particular modes of conversation. The pretended madness of Hamlet causes 
 much mirth, the mournful distraction of Ophelia tills the heart with tenderness, and every personage produces the 
 clltct intended, from the apparition that, in the first act, chills the blood with honor, to the lop in the last, that 
 exposes affectation to just contemj)t. . .... „, .,...,. r n . t ■ i- i 
 
 The conduct is, perhaps, not wholly secur« again.«t objections. The action is indeed for the most part, in continual 
 progression • but there are some scenes wrtich neither forward nor retard it. Of the feigned madness of Hamlet 
 I bete appears no adequate cause, for he does nothing which he might not have done with the reputation ^if sanity. 
 He plays the loadman most, when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness, which seems to be useless anU wanton 
 
 "^"^Hamlet is, through the whole piece, rather an instrument than an agent. After he has, by the stratagem of the 
 play, convicted the king, he makes no attempt to punish him ; and his death is at last eflected by an incident which 
 Hnmlet had no part in producing. , . . ^t j- . <• ■. .1. 
 
 The catastrophe is not very happily produced ; the exchange of weapons is rather an expedient of necessity, than 
 a stroke of art. A scheme might easily be formed, to kill Hamlet with the dagger, .ind Laertes with the bowl. 
 
 The poet is accused of having .shewn little regard to poetical justice, and may be charged with equal neglect of 
 poetical probability. The apparition left the regions of the dead to little purpose: the revenge which he demands 
 IS not obtained, but by the death of him that was required to take.it; and the gratification, which would arise from 
 the destruction of an usurper and a murderer, is abated by the untimely death of Ophelia, the young, the beautitul. 
 lbs harmless, and the pious. Jolinson. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 CLAUDIUS, Ki7ig of Denmark. 
 
 HAMLET^ Son to the former, and Nephew to the prtsent 
 
 Ring. 
 POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain. 
 HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet. 
 LAERTES, Son to Folonius. 
 VOLTIIWAND, 
 
 Officers. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 KtJSENCRANTZ, 
 UHLDENSTERN, 
 OSRIC, a Courtier. 
 Another Courtier. 
 A i'riest. 
 
 I 
 
 Courtiers. 
 
 MARCELLUS, I 
 
 BERNARDO, ) 
 
 FRANCISCO, a Soldier. 
 
 RE\ N.\LUO, Servant to Polonius. 
 
 A Captain. 
 
 An Ambassador. 
 
 Chvst of Hamlet's Father. 
 
 FORTINBKAS, Prince of Norway. 
 
 GERTKl'Dc, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of 
 
 Hamlet. 
 OPHELIA, Daughter of Polonius. 
 Lords, Ladies, U]/icers, Soldiers, Players, Grave-diggers 
 
 Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene, — Elsinore. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle. 
 Francisco on his post. Enter to him Bernardo. 
 
 ]iiT. Wlio"s there ? 
 
 Fran. Nay, answer ine : stand, and unfold 
 
 Yoiir.seii'. 
 
 Ber. Long live the king ! 
 
 Ji'ran. Bernardo ? 
 
 Ber. He. 
 
 Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. 
 
 Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve ; get thee to bed, 
 Francisco. 
 
 Fran. For this relief, much thanks : 'tis bitter cold, 
 And 1 an) sick at heart. 
 
 Ber. Have yon had quiet guard ? 
 
 Fran. Not a mouse stirring. 
 
 Ber. Well, good night. 
 If you do meet Horatio and Marcelliis, 
 'J'he rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. 
 
 Enter Hohatio and Marcellus. 
 Fta«. I think, I hear them. — Stand, ho ! Who is 
 
 there ? 
 Hor. Friends to this ground. 
 Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. 
 
 Fran. Give you good night. 
 Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier : 
 
 Who hath reliev'd you ? 
 
 Fran. Bernardo hath my place. 
 
 Oive you good night. [Exit. 
 
 Mar Holla ! Bernardo I 
 
 Ber. Say, 
 
 What, is Horatio there ? 
 
 Mor. A piece of him. 
 
 Her. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar- 
 
 ceijiis. 
 Mor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? 
 Ber. ] uave seen nothing. 
 
 Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy ; 
 And will not let belief take hold of him, 
 'I'oiichiiig thi.s dreaded sight, twice .seen of us: 
 Therei'ore I have entreated him, along 
 With us to watch the minutes of this night; 
 That, if again this apparition come, 
 He may approve our eyes, and speak to it. 
 
 Hor, Tush ! tush ! 'twill not appear. 
 
 Ber. Sit down awhile; 
 
 And let us once again assail your ears. 
 That are so fortified against our story. 
 What we two nights have seen. 
 
 Hor. Well, sit we down. 
 
 And let tis hear Bernardo speak of this. 
 
 Ber. Last night of all, 
 When yon same star, that's westward from the pole. 
 Had made his course to illume that part of heaven 
 Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself. 
 The bell then beating one, — (again ! 
 
 Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. 
 
 Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio. 
 
 Ber. Looks it not like the kmg? mark it, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. Most like : — it harrows me with fear, and 
 wonder. 
 
 Ber. It would be spoke to. 
 
 Mar. Speak to it, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, 
 Together with that fair and warlike form 
 In which the majesty of buried Denmark [speak. 
 Did sometimes march? by heaven, I charge thee. 
 
 Mar. It is offended. 
 
 Ber. See ! it stalks away. 
 
 Hor. Stay ; speak : speak, I charge thee, speak. 
 ' ^ [Exit Ghtsi. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. (pale: 
 
 Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble, aad look 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 743 
 
 Is not this something more than fantasy i 
 What thiiilk you of it? 
 
 Hor. Bt-lore my God, I might not this believe, 
 VV'ithotit the sensible and true avouch 
 or mine own eyes. 
 
 Mar. Is it not like the king ? 
 
 Hor. As thou art to thyself: 
 Such was the very armour he had on. 
 When he the ambitious Norway combated ; 
 So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, 
 He smote the sledded Polack. on the ice. 
 'Tis strange. [hour, 
 
 Mar. Thus twice before, and Jump at this dead 
 With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. 
 
 Hor, In what particular thought to work, I know 
 not; 
 But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, 
 This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 
 
 Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that 
 knows. 
 Why this same strict and most observant watch 
 So nightly toils the subject of the land ? 
 And why such daily cast of brazen carmon. 
 And foreign mart for implements of war; 
 Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task 
 Does not divine the Sunday (rom the week : 
 What might be toward, that this sweaty haste 
 Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day; 
 Who is't, that can inform me ? 
 
 Hor. That can I ; 
 
 At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, 
 Whose image even but now appear'd to us. 
 Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, 
 Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, 
 Dar'd to the combat; in which our \aliant Hamlet 
 (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him,) 
 Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact. 
 Well ratified by law and heraldry. 
 Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands. 
 Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror: 
 Against the whicti, a moiety competent 
 VVas gaged by our king ; which had retuni'd 
 To the inheritance of Fortinbras, 
 Had he been vanquisher ; as, by the same co-mart, 
 And carriage of the article design'd. 
 His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Fortinbras, 
 Of unimproved mettle hot and full, 
 Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, 
 Shark'd up a list ol landless resolutes. 
 For food and diet, to some enter|jrise 
 That hath a stomach in't : which is no other 
 (As it doth well appear unto our state,) 
 But to recover of ns, by strong hand. 
 And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands, 
 So by his father lost: And this, I take it, 
 Is the main motive of our preparations ; 
 The source of this our watch ; and the chief head 
 Of this post haste and romage in the land. 
 
 Ber. I think, it be no other, but e^en so: 
 Well may it sort, that this portentous figure 
 Comes arnnd through our watch ; so like the king 
 That was, and is, the question of these wars. 
 
 Hor. A mote it is, to trouble the mind's eye. 
 In the most high and palmy state of Rome, 
 A little ere tiie mightiest Julius fell, 
 The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 
 
 If. 4. It :( ^ If If If If If If If ]f l^ If 
 
 As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood. 
 Disasters in the 8un ; and the moist star. 
 Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, 
 Was aick almost to dooms day with eclipse. 
 And e\en the like precurse of fierce events, — 
 As harbingers preceding still the fates, 
 And prologue to the omen coming on, — 
 Have heaven and earth together demonstrated 
 Unto our climafures and countrymen. — 
 
 He-enter Ghost. 
 But, sofl ; behold ! lo, where it comes again ! 
 
 I'll cross it, though it blast me Stay, illuaioni 
 
 If thou hast any sound, or use of voice 
 
 Speak to me : 
 
 If there be any good thing to be done. 
 
 That may to thee do ease and grace to me. 
 
 Speak to me : 
 
 II thou art privy to thy country's fate. 
 
 Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, 
 
 O, speak ! 
 
 Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life, 
 
 Extorted treasure in the womb of earth. 
 
 For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, 
 
 (Cock crows.) 
 Speak of it:— stay, and speak. — Stop it, Marcellns. 
 
 Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan ? 
 
 Hor. Do, if it will not stand. 
 
 Ber. 
 Hor. 
 Mar. 'Tis gone ! 
 
 'Tis he 
 
 'Tis here ! 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 We do it wrong, being so majestical, 
 To offer it the shew of violence ; 
 For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
 And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
 
 Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. 
 
 Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing 
 Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, 
 The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn. 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, | 
 
 The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 To his confine : and of the truth herein , 
 This present object made probation. 
 
 Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
 Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes, 
 Wherein our Sa\iour's birth is celebrated. 
 This bird of dawning singeth all night long: 
 And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
 The nights are wholesome: then no planets strike, 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm. 
 So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. 
 
 Hor. So haxe 1 heard, and do in part believe it. 
 But, look, the morn, in russet tuantle clad, 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill: 
 Break we our watch up ; and, by my advice, 
 Let us impart what we have seen tu-night 
 Unto young Haudet: for, uiion my life. 
 This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him : 
 Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it. 
 As needful in our loves, fitting our dntv ? 
 
 Mar. Let's do't, I pray ; and I this rooming know 
 Where we shall find niin most contenient. \Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — The same. A Rootn of State in tht 
 same. 
 
 Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laer- 
 tes. VoLTiMAND, Cornelius, Lords, and At- 
 tendants. 
 
 King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's 
 death 
 The memory be green ; and that it us befitted 
 To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom 
 To be contracted in one brow of woe ; 
 Y'et so far hath discretion fought with nature 
 That we with wisest sorrow think on him. 
 Together with remembrance of ourselves. 
 Therefore our sometime sister, now oin- queen, 
 The imperial jointress of tiiis warlike state. 
 Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, — 
 With one auspicious, and one dropping eye ; 
 With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, 
 In equal scale weighing delight and dole. — 
 Taken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd 
 Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone 
 VV'ith this affair along: — For all, our thanks. 
 
 Now follows that yon know, young Forlinbraii,— 
 Holdinu a weak supposal of our worth; 
 Or thinking, by our late dear brother's <leath. 
 Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 
 Colleugued witii tnis dreaui ot Ins advantage^ 
 
744 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 A CI I. 
 
 He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, 
 Importing the surrender of those lands, 
 Lost by his father, with all bands of law. 
 To our n)ost valiant brother.— So puich for him. 
 Now for ourself, and for this time of meeting. 
 Thus much the business is : We have here writ 
 To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, — 
 VVlio, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears 
 Of this his nephew's purpose,— to suppress 
 .iis further gait herein ; in that the levies, 
 The lists, and full proportions, are ail made 
 Out of his subject: — and we here despatch 
 Von, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, 
 For bearers of this greeting to old Norway ; 
 Giving to you no further personal power 
 To business with tlie king, more than the scope 
 Of these dilated articles allow. 
 Farewell ; and let your haste commend your duty. 
 Cor. §' Vol. lu that, and all things, will we shew 
 
 our duty. 
 King, We doubt it nothing ; heartily farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Voltimcmd and Cornelius. 
 And now, Laertes, what's tue news with you ? 
 Yon told us of some suit; What is't. Laertes? 
 Yon cannot speak of reason to the Dane, 
 And lose your voice: What would'st thou beg, 
 
 Laertes, 
 That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? 
 The head is not more nati\e to tlie heart, 
 'I'he hand more instrumental tn the mouth, 
 Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
 What would'sl thou have, Laertes i 
 
 Laer. My dread lord. 
 
 Your leave and favour to return to Fiance ; 
 From whence, thouj;h willingly, I came to Denmark, 
 To shew my duty in your conination; 
 Yet now, 1 nuist coi.fess, that liuty done, 
 My thoiiglit* and wishes bend again townrd France, 
 And bow them to your gracious leave and p.irdon. 
 King. Has e you your father's leave ? Vv hat says 
 Foioniiis ':" [leave, 
 
 Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow 
 By laboursouie petition; and, at List, 
 Upon his will I seal d my hard consent: 
 I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 
 
 King. Tak^' thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be thine, 
 And thy best grares : spend it at thy will. — . 
 But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son, — 
 
 Ham. A "little more than kin, and less than kind, 
 
 {Aside.) 
 King. How is it, that the clouds still hang on you ! 
 Ham. Not so, my lord, I hiu foo much i'the sun. 
 Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour otf. 
 And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. 
 Do not, forever, with thy vailed lids 
 Seek for thy noble father in the dust : 
 Thou kiiow'st, 'tis common; all, that live, must die. 
 Passing through nature to eteniity. 
 Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. 
 Queen. \i it be. 
 
 Why seems it SiO particular with thee ? [seems. 
 
 Ham. Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not 
 "Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother. 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black. 
 Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath. 
 No, nor tlie fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected havionr of the visage. 
 Together with all forms, modes, shews of grief. 
 That can denote me truly: The.se, indeed, seem, 
 For they are actions that a man might play: 
 But I have that within, which passeth shew ; 
 These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
 
 King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your na- 
 ture, Hamlet, 
 To give these mourning duties to your father: 
 But, you must know, your father lost a father; 
 That father lost, lost his ; and the survivor bound 
 In filial obligation, for some term 
 To do obsequious sorrow : But to persever 
 in obstinate condolementi is a course 
 
 Of impious stjibbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief: 
 
 It shews a will most incorrect to heav en; 
 
 A heart unfortified, or mind impatient ; 
 
 An understanding simple and un.school'd : 
 
 For what, we know, must be, and is aa caininoB 
 
 As any the most vulgar thing to sense. 
 
 Why should we, in our peevish oppositioo. 
 
 Take it to heait ? Fye ! 'tis a fault to heaven, 
 
 A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
 
 To reason most absurd ; whose common theme 
 
 Is death of fathers, and wiio still hath cried, 
 
 From the first corse, till he that died to-day, 
 
 This must be so. We pray you, throw to tmn 
 
 This nnprevailiiig woe; and think ol us 
 
 As of a father : for let the world take note, 
 
 Yon are the most iinmediate to our throne; 
 
 And with no less nobility of love, 
 
 Thau that which dearest father bears his son. 
 
 Do I impait toward you. For your intent 
 
 in going back to school in Wittenberg. 
 
 It is most retrograde to our desire: 
 
 And, we beseech you, bend you to remain 
 
 Here, in t)ie cheer and comfort of our eye. 
 
 Our cliiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. 
 
 Queen. Let not tiiy mother lose her prayers, 
 Hamlet ; 
 I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. 
 
 Ham. I shall in all my best obey vou, madam. 
 
 King. Wtiy, 'tis a loving and a f^tir reply ; 
 Be as ourself in Denmark. — Madam, coiwe ; 
 This gentle and unforc'd accord ot Hamlet 
 Sits smiling to my heart: in grate wliereol. 
 No jocund healtti, tliat Denmark drinks to-day, 
 But the great camion to the clouds shall tell. 
 And the king's rouse the heavens shall bruit again 
 Re-speaking t-arthly thunder. Come away. 
 
 [Ex(fimt King, Queen, Lords, ^'c. Polo. 
 nius, and Laertes. 
 
 Hatn. O. tiiai tins too too solid flesh would melt 
 Thaw, and n solve itself into a dew ! 
 Or that the Evei lasting had not rtx cl 
 His canon 'gainst self slaiuriiti-r 1 O (lod I O God 
 How weary, stale. Hat, and nnproHtable, 
 Seem to me all tlie uses of this world 1 
 Fyeon't! O lye ! 'tis an uiiweeiled garden, 
 That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature. 
 Possess it merely. That it should come to this ! 
 But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two-: 
 So excellent a (ving; tliat was, to this, 
 Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother, 
 That he might not beteem ttie winds of heaven 
 Visit her face too roUKhly. Heaven and earth ! 
 Must I remember? why, she would hang on liiiiv 
 As if increase of appetite had grown 
 By what it fed on • And yet, within a month, — 
 Let me not think on't ; — Frailty, thy name is wo- 
 man! — 
 A little month ; or ere those shoes were old. 
 With which she follow'd my poor father's body 
 Like Niobe, all tears, — why she, even she. — 
 O heaven ! a beast, that wants discourse ot reason, 
 Would have mourn'd longer, — married with n»y 
 
 uncle. 
 My father's brother; but no more like ray father, 
 'I'han 1 to Hercules: within a month; 
 Ere yet tli* salt oi'most unrighteous tears 
 Had left the flushing in her galled eyes. 
 She married : — O most wicked speed, to post 
 With such dexterity to incestuous sheets'. 
 It is not, nor it cannot come to, good ; 
 But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tiniguf . 
 
 Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and MARCiiLLUA 
 
 Hor. Hail to your lordship ! 
 
 Ham. I am glad to see you wt ll ; 
 
 Horatio, — or I do forget myself. [esti. 
 
 Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor serxaut. 
 
 Hajn. Sir. my good friend; I if change that n,iin«i 
 with you. 
 And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? — 
 
bCEXK 3. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 745 
 
 Marcellus ? 
 
 31 ar. My good lord,-^ 
 
 Ham. 1 am very glad to see yon ; good even, sir. — 
 Bat what, in f.iith. make you from VVitteiiberg ? 
 
 Hor. A tni.'itit disposition, giMid my lord. 
 
 Ham. I would not fiear your enemy say so; 
 Nor sliall you do mine ear that \ ioience. 
 To make it truster of your own report 
 Against yourself: I know, you are no truant. 
 But what is your affnir in Elsinore ? 
 We'll teach yon to drink deep, ere you depart. 
 
 Hor. Aly lord, I came to see your father's funeral. 
 
 Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-stu- 
 dent ; 
 I think, it was to see my mother's wedding. 
 
 Hur. Indeed, my lord, it foilow'd hard upon. 
 
 Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd 
 meats 
 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
 'Woidd I iiad met my dearest foe in heaven 
 Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio 1 — 
 , My father, — Methinks, I see my father. 
 
 Hor. Where, 
 
 My lord ■' 
 
 Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. 1 saw him once, he was a goodly king. 
 
 Ham. He was a man, take him tor all in all, 
 I shall lint look upon his like again. 
 
 Hor. My lord, I think I saw liim yesternight. 
 
 Ham. ShwI who? 
 
 Hor. My lord, the king your father. 
 
 Ham. The king my father ! 
 
 Hor. Season your admiration for a while 
 With an attent ear ; till 1 may deliver. 
 Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
 This m iriel to you. 
 
 Ham. For God's love, let me hear. 
 
 Hor. 'I'wo nights together had these gentlemen, 
 Marceilus (iiid Bernardo, on their watch. 
 In the dead waist and middle of the night. 
 Been thus eiicounter'd. A figure like your father, 
 Armed at |ioint, exactly, cap-a pie, 
 Appears before them, and, with solemn march. 
 Goes slow, and stately by them : thrice he walk'd. 
 By their ojipress'd and (ear-surprised eyes, 
 Witiiiu Ills truncheon's length ; whilst they, distill'd 
 Almost to jelly with tiie act of fear, 
 Stand dnnib, and speak not to him. Thi.s to me 
 In dreadful secrecy im; ait they did; 
 And I witti tlieni, the third niglit kept the watch: 
 Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time. 
 Form of tlie thing, each word made true and good, 
 The apparition comes: I knew your lather; 
 These iiands are not more like. 
 
 Ham. But where was this ? 
 
 Mar. My lord, upon the platform, where we 
 watch'd. 
 
 Ham. Did you not speak to it ? 
 
 Hur. My lord, I did ; 
 
 But answer made it none : yet once, methought. 
 It lifted up its head, and did address 
 Itself to motion, like as it would speak; 
 But, even tlien, the morning cock crew louAv 
 And at the sound it shrunk in haste away. 
 And vanish'd from our sight. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis very strange. 
 
 Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true ; 
 And we did think it writ down in our duty. 
 To let you know of it. 
 
 Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. 
 Hold you the watch to-night ? 
 
 All. We do, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Arm'd, say you ? 
 
 All. Arm'd, ray lord. 
 
 Ham. From top to toe ? 
 
 All. My lord, from head to foot. 
 
 Ham. Then saw you not 
 
 His face ? 
 
 Hor. O yes. my lord ; he wore his beaver up. 
 
 Ham. VV^hat, lookd he frowuingly ? 
 
 Hor. A countenance more 
 
 In sorrow thanJn anger. 
 
 Ham. Pale, or red ? 
 
 Hur. Nay, very pale. 
 
 Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon yon ? 
 
 Hur. Most constantly. 
 
 Ham. I would, I had been there. 
 
 Hor. It would have much aiuaz'd you. 
 
 Ham. Very like. 
 
 Very like: Stay'd it long? 
 
 Hor. While one with moderate haste might teU 
 a hundred. 
 
 Mar. Sc Her. Longer, longer. 
 
 Hor. Not wlien I saw it. 
 
 Ham. His beard was grizzl'd ? no? 
 
 Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
 A satle silver'd. 
 
 Ham. I will watch to-night ; 
 
 Perchance, 'twill walk again. 
 
 Hor. I warrant, it will. 
 
 Ham. If it assume my noble father's persou, 
 I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, 
 And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, 
 If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight. 
 Let it be tenable in your silence still; 
 And whatsoever else shall hap to-night. 
 Give it an understanding, but no tongue ; 
 I will requite your loves: So, fare you well: 
 Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, 
 I'll visit you. 
 
 All. Our duty to your honour. 
 
 Ham. Your loves, as mine to you ; Farewell. 
 [Exeunt Horatio, Marceilus, and Bernardo, 
 My father's spirit in arms I all is not well ; 
 I doubt some foul play ; would, the night were come ! 
 Till then sit still, my soul : Foul deeds will rise, 
 Though all tiie earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyest 
 
 [Exit 
 Scene IIL — A Room in Polonius's House. 
 Enter Laertes and Ophelia. 
 
 Laer. My necessaries are pmbark'd; farewell: 
 And, sister, as the winds give benefit, 
 And conyoy is assistant, do not sleep. 
 But let me hear from you. 
 
 OpA. Do you doubt that? 
 
 Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour. 
 Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ; 
 A violet in the youth of primy nature, 
 Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting. 
 The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; 
 No more. 
 
 Oph. No more but so ? 
 
 Laer. Think it no more: 
 
 For nature, crescent, does not grow alone 
 In thews, and bulk; but. as this temple waxes. 
 The inward sen ice of the mind and soul 
 Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves you do\t; 
 And now no soil, nor cautel, doth besmirch 
 The virtue oi his will : but, you must fear, 
 His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; 
 For he himself is subject to his birth: 
 He may not, as unvalued persons do, 
 Carve for himself; for (»n his choice depends 
 The safety and the health of the whole stat^ ; 
 And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd 
 Unto the voice and yielding of that body. 
 Whereof he is head : Then, if he says he loves yon 
 It fits your wisdom so far to believe it. 
 As he in his particular act and place 
 May give his saying deed ; which is no furtlier. 
 Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. 
 Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain. 
 If with too credent ear you list his songs ; 
 Or lose your heart ; or your chaste treasure opea 
 To his nnmaster'd importunity. 
 Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; 
 And keep you in the rear of your atiection. 
 Out of tiie shot and danger of desire. 
 The chaiiest maid is prodigal enough. 
 
746 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act T. 
 
 It slie iininask her beauty to the moon : 
 Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : 
 The canker galls the infants of the^pring. 
 Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ; 
 And in the morn and liquid dew of youth. 
 Contagious blastments are most imminent. I 
 Be wary then : best safety lies in I'ear ; 
 Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 
 
 OpA. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, 
 As watchman to my heart : But, good my brother, 
 Da not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
 Shew me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; 
 Whilst, like a puff 'd and reckless libertine, 
 Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. 
 And recks not his own read. 
 
 Laer. O fear me not. 
 
 I stay too long ; — But here my father comes. 
 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 A double blessing is a double grace ; 
 Occasion smiles upon a second leave. 
 
 Pol. Yet here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, for 
 shame ; 
 The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, 
 And you are staid for: There, — my blessing with 
 you : {Laying his hand on Laertes' head.) 
 And these few precepts in thy memory 
 Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue. 
 Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
 Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
 The friends thou hast, and tlieir adoption tried, 
 Grapjile them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 
 But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 
 Of entrance to a quiirrel ; but, being in, 
 Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. 
 Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
 Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 
 Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
 But not express'd in tancy ; rich, not gaudy : 
 For the apparel oft proclaims the man ; 
 And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
 Are most select and generous, chief in that. 
 Neither a borrower, nor a lender be : 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
 This above all, — To thine ownselt be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the uight the day. 
 Thou canst not then be iaise to any man. 
 Farewell ; my blessing season this in thee ! 
 
 Laer. IVlost humbly do I take my leave, my lord. 
 
 Pol. The time invites you ; go, your servants tend. 
 
 Laer. Farewell, Ophelia ; and remember well 
 What I have said to you. 
 
 Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, 
 
 And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 
 
 Laer. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to youi" 
 
 Oph. So please you, something touching the lord 
 Handet. 
 
 Pol. Marry, well bethought : 
 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late 
 Given private time to you ; and you yourself 
 Have of your audience been most free and boun- 
 teous : 
 If it be so, (as so 'tis put on me. 
 And that in way of caution,) 1 must tell you, 
 You do not understand yourself so clearly. 
 As it behoves my dan^liter, and your honour: 
 What is between you i give me up the truth. 
 
 OpA. He hath, my lord, of late, made many tenders 
 Of his affection to me. 
 
 Pol. Affection ? piih ! you speak like a green girl, 
 Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. 
 Uo you believe his tenders, as you call them ' 
 
 Orih. i do not know, my lord, what I should think. 
 
 Pol. Miirry, I'll teach you : tliink yourself a baby : 
 That yon have ta"en these tenders for true pay, 
 Which are not sterling, 'lender yourself more 
 dearly ; 
 
 Or, (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, 
 Wronging it thus,) you'll tender me a fool. 
 
 Oph. My bird, he hath importuu'd me with love. 
 In honourable fashion. 
 
 Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, gq to. 
 
 Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech 
 my lord, 
 With almost ail the holy vows of heaven. 
 
 Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do kuow. 
 When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
 Lends the tongue vows : these blazes, daughter. 
 Giving more light than heat, — extinct in both. 
 Even in their promise, as it is a making, — 
 You must not take for tire. From this time. 
 Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; 
 Set your entreatments at a higher rate, 
 Than a command to parley. For lord Hamlet, 
 Believe so much in him, That he is young; w 
 And with a larger tether may he vvalk. 
 Than may be given you : In levy, Ophelia, 
 Do not believe his vows : ibr they are brokers 
 Not of that die which their investments shew. 
 But mere imploiators of unholy suits, 
 Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, 
 The better to beguile. This is for all, — 
 I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth. 
 Have you so slander any moment's leisure. 
 As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet 
 Look to't, I charge you ; come your ways. 
 
 Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene lY.—The Platform. 
 Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. 
 
 Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold. 
 
 Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. 
 
 Ham. What Irour now ? 
 
 Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve. 
 
 Mar. No, it is struck. 
 
 Hor. Indeed I I heard it not; it then draws near 
 the season. 
 Wherein the spirit lield is wont to walk. 
 
 {A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot 
 off within.) 
 What does this mean, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. The king doth wake tonight, and takec 
 his rouse. 
 Keeps wassel, and the swaggering up-spring reels; 
 And, as he drains his draughts of lihenish aown, 
 The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out 
 The triumph of his pledge. 
 
 Hor. Is it a custom ? 
 
 Ham. Ay marry, is't: 
 But to my mind, — thougli I am native here. 
 More to the manner born, — it is a custom 
 More honour'd in the breach, than the observance* 
 This heavy-headed revel, east and west, 
 Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations: 
 'i'liey clepe us, drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
 Soil our addition ; and, indeed, it takes 
 From our achievements, though peri'onn'd at height. 
 The pith and marrow of our attribute. 
 So, oft it chances in particular men. 
 That, for some vicious mi>le of nature in them. 
 As, in their birth (wherein they are not guilty. 
 Since nature cannot choose his origin). 
 By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, 
 Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reasoa ; 
 Or bv some habit, that too much o'er- leavens 
 The I'brin of plausive manners ; — that these men,- 
 Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect; 
 Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, — 
 Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace. 
 As infinite as man may undergo), 
 Stiall in the general censure take corruption 
 From that particular fault: 'I'he dram.if baw 
 Doth all the noble substance often dout. 
 To his own scandal. 
 
 Hor. 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 Jjook, my lord, it comei \ 
 
 i 
 
Scene 5. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 747 
 
 tinm. Angels and ministers of grace defend us I — 
 Be Ihou a spirit of heallh, or goblin Hamn'd, 
 Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts (rem hell, 
 Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, 
 I'liou coDi'st in such a questionable shape. 
 That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee, Hamlet, 
 King, lather, royal Dane : O, answer me : 
 Let me not burst in ignorance I but tell, 
 Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, 
 Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd. 
 Hath op'dhis ponderous and marble jaws, 
 'lo cast thee up again ! What may this mean, 
 That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, 
 Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
 Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature. 
 So horridly to shake our disposition, 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
 Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? 
 
 Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, 
 As if it some impartment did desire 
 To you alone. 
 
 Mar. Look, with what courteous action 
 
 It waves you to a more removed ground : 
 But do not go with it. 
 
 Hor. No, by no means. 
 
 Ham. It will not speak ; then I w ill follow it. 
 
 Hor. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, what should be the fear ? 
 
 I do not set my life at a pin's fee ; 
 And, for my soul, what can it do to that. 
 Being a tiling immortal as itself? 
 It waves me forth again ; — I'll follow it. 
 
 Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my 
 lord. 
 Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff". 
 That beetles o'er his base into the sea ? 
 And there assume some other horrible form. 
 Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, 
 And draw vou into madness? think of it: 
 The very place puts toys of desperation. 
 Without more motive, into every brain. 
 That looks so many fathoms to the sea. 
 And hears it roar beneath. 
 
 Ham. It waves me still : — 
 
 00 on, I'll follow thee. 
 
 Mar. You shall not go, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Hold oS" your hands. 
 
 Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go. 
 
 Ham. My fate cries out. 
 
 And makes each petty artery in this body 
 As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. — 
 
 {Ghost beckons.) 
 Still am I call'd ; — unhand ine, gentlemen ;— 
 
 {Breaking from thein.) 
 By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me : — 
 
 1 say, away: — Go on, I'll follow thee. 
 
 [Exeunt G/iust and Hamlet. 
 Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. 
 Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. 
 Hor. Have after: — To what issue will tins come ? 
 Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. 
 Hor. Heaven will direct it. 
 Mar. Nay, let's follow him, [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — A tnore remote Part of the Platform. 
 
 Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, I'll go 
 no further. 
 
 Ghost. Mark me. 
 
 Ham. I will. 
 
 Ghost, My hour is almost come, 
 
 When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 
 Must reiider up myself. 
 
 Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 
 
 Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing • 
 To what I shall unfold. 
 
 Ham, Speak, I am bound to hear. 
 
 Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt 
 hear. 
 
 Ha7n. What? 
 
 Ghost. I am thy father's spirit; 
 Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; 
 And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires. 
 Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, 
 Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
 ^Vonld harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood : 
 Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 
 
 spheres; 
 Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
 And each particular hair to stand an-end, 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: 
 But this eternal blazon must not be 
 'I'o ears of flesh and blood : — List, list, O list'— 
 If thou didst ever thy dear father love, — 
 
 Ham. O heaven ! [der. 
 
 Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural laur- 
 
 Ham. Murder? 
 
 Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; 
 But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 
 
 Ham. Haste me to know it ; that 1, with wings as 
 swift 
 As meditation, or the thoughts of love. 
 May sweep to my revenge. 
 
 Ghost. I find thee apt ; 
 
 And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed 
 That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 
 Would 'st thou notstir in this? Now, Hamlet, hear: 
 'Tis given out, that, sleeping in n>ine orchard, 
 A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark 
 Is by a forged process of my death 
 Rankly abus'd : but know, thou noble youth, 
 The serpent, that did sting thy father's life. 
 Now wears liis crown. 
 
 Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle ! 
 
 Ghost. Ay, tliat incestuous, that adulterate beast. 
 With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, 
 (O, wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power 
 So to seduce I) won to his shameful lust 
 The will of my most seeming- virtuous queen; 
 O, Hamlet, what a falling-olf was there ! 
 From me, whose love was of that dignify. 
 That it went hand in hand even with the 
 I made to her in marriage ; and to decline 
 Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor 
 'I'o those of mine ! 
 
 But virtue, as it never will he mov'd, 
 Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; 
 So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd. 
 Will sate itself in a celestial bed. 
 And prey on garbag,'. 
 
 But, soft! metliinks i scent the morning air; 
 Brief let n\e be : — Sleeping within mine orchard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon, 
 Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole. 
 With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial. 
 And in the porches oi mine ears did pour 
 The leperous dislilmenl; whose effect 
 Holds such an enmity with blood of man. 
 That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through 
 'i'he natural gates and alleys of the body; 
 And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset 
 And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
 The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine; 
 And a most instant tetter bark'd about. 
 Most lazar like, with vile and loathsome crust. 
 All my smooth body. 
 
 Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand. 
 Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd : 
 Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
 Unhonsel'd, disappointed, unanel'd; 
 No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
 With all my imperfections on my head : 
 O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible ! 
 If thou hnst nature in thee, bear it not ; 
 Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
 A couch for luxury and diimm d incest. 
 But, howsoever thou pursu'st tliis act. 
 
 vow 
 
748 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act it. 
 
 Taint not thy mind, Dor let thy soul contrive 
 ARainst thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, 
 And to those thorns that in her bosom h)dge. 
 To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once ! 
 The glow-worm shews the matin to be neSr, 
 And 'gins to pale his imeftVctiial fiie : 
 Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember ine. [Exit. 
 
 Ham. O ail you host of heaven ! O earth ! What 
 else? [heart; 
 
 And shall I couple hell?— O fye !— Hold, hold, my 
 And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, 
 Uuf bear me stiffly np! — Remember thee? 
 Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
 In this distracted globe. Remember thee ? 
 Vea, from the table of my memory 
 I'll wipe away all trivial iond records, 
 All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, 
 Th^l youth and observation copied there ; 
 And thy commandment all alone shall jive 
 Within the book and volume of my brain, 
 Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven. 
 O most pernicious woman ! 
 
 villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! 
 i\ly tablet, — meet it is, I set it down, 
 
 That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ; 
 At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark : 
 
 ( Writing.) 
 So, uncle, there you are. Now, to my word; 
 It is, Adieit, adieu! remember me, 
 
 1 have sworn't. 
 
 Hor. {Wit/iin.) My lord, my lord,— 
 
 Mar. (Within.) Lord Hamlet,— 
 
 Hur. [Wit/iin.) iieaven secure him; 
 
 Hatn. So be it ! 
 
 Mar. (Within.) II lo, ho, ho, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come. 
 
 Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 
 
 Mar. How is't, my noble lord ? 
 
 Hor, What news, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. O, wonderful ! 
 
 Hor. Good my lord, tell it. 
 
 Ham. No ; 
 
 V'ou will reveal it. 
 
 Hor. Not 1, my lord, by heaven. 
 
 Mar. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Ham. How say you then ; would heart of man 
 once think it? — 
 But you'll be secret, — 
 
 Hor. §' Mar. 
 
 Ham. There's ne'er a 
 Denmark, 
 But he's an arrant knave. 
 
 Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from 
 the grave, 
 I'o tell us this. 
 
 Hanu Why, right ; you are in the right ; 
 
 And so, without more circum.stance at all, 
 i hold it fit. thHt we shake hands, and part: 
 Von, as your business, and desire, shall point you ; 
 For every umn hath business and desire. 
 Such as it i!<, — and, for my own poor part. 
 Look you, I will go pray. (lord. 
 
 Hor. 'I'hese are but wild and whirling words, my 
 
 Ham. I am sorry tliey oifend you, heartily ; yes, 
 'Faith, heartily. 
 
 Hor. There's no offence, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Yes, by St. Patrick, but lliere is, Horatio, 
 And much oliVuce too. 'I'ouching tliis \isiou here) — 
 It is an lioiiest ghost, that lei me tell you ; 
 For your desire to know what is between ns. 
 O'er master it as you may And now. good friends, 
 As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, 
 
 ve me one poor request. 
 
 Hor WHiat is't, my lord ? 
 
 We will. (tonight. 
 
 Ham. Never make known what you have seen 
 
 Hor g- Mar. Wy lord, we will not. 
 
 Uum. Nay, but swear't. 
 
 Hor In faith. 
 
 Ay, by heaven, my lord, 
 villain, dwelling in all 
 
 My lord, not I. 
 
 Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. 
 
 Ham. Upon my sword. 
 
 Mar. We have sworn, my lord, aireadj 
 
 Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. 
 
 Ghost. (Beneath.) Swear. 
 
 Ham. Ha, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thon 
 there, true-penny ? 
 Come on, — you hear this lellow in the cellarage — 
 Consent to swear. 
 
 Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Never to speak of tliis that you have srpsj. 
 Swear by my sword. 
 
 Ghost. (Beneath.) Swear. [ground: — 
 
 Ham. Hie et ubiqiie? then we will shil't our 
 Come hither, gentlemen, 
 And lay your hands again upon my sword : 
 Swear by my sword. 
 Never to spewk of this that you have heard. 
 
 Ghost. (Beneath.) Swear by his sword. 
 
 Hum. Well said, old mole ! can'st work i'the 
 earth so last? 
 A worthy pioneer! — Once more remove, good 
 friends. 
 
 Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous 
 strange I [come. 
 
 Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it wel- 
 There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 
 But come ; — 
 
 Here, as before, never, so help you mercy! 
 How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself. 
 As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet 
 To put an antic disposition on — 
 'I'hat you, at such times seeing me, never shall. 
 With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake. 
 Or by pronouncing of some doubtlul jjhrase, 
 As Well, iveli, we know ; — or, We could an if we 
 would; — or. If we list to speak ; — or, 'Vkere be., an 
 if they miyht ; — 
 
 Or such ambiguous giving out, to note 
 'I'hat you know aught of me : — This do you swear, 
 So grace and mercy at your most need help you ! 
 
 Ghost. {Beneath.) Swear. 
 
 Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit ! So, gentlemen. 
 With all my love 1 do commend me to you; 
 And what so poor a man as Hamlet is 
 Mas' do, to express his love and friending to you, 
 God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; 
 And still your tingers on your lips, 1 piay. 
 Tht time is out of joint; — O cursed .spite! 
 Tliat ever I was born to set it right ! 
 Nuy, tome, let's go together. [Exeunt, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Boom in Polonitis's House. 
 Enter Polonius and Heynaldo. 
 
 Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, Re^- 
 naldo. 
 
 Rey. I will, my lord. jnaldo, 
 
 Pol. ^ oil shall do marvellous wisely, good lley- 
 Bfibre you visit him, to make inquiry 
 or his betiaviour. 
 
 Rey. My lord, I did intend it. 
 
 Pol. Marry, well said : very well said. Look 
 you, sir. 
 Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris ; 
 .^nd how, and who, what means, and where they 
 
 keep, 
 What company, at what expense; and fiiiHing; 
 By this encoiiipassnient and drift of question, 
 '1 hat they do know my sou. cmiie \u\\ muie nearer 
 Than your particular demands will toiicti it : 
 Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; 
 As thus, — I know his father, and his friends. 
 And, in part. him;—ih> you mark this, lleynahlo? 
 
 Rey. Av, veij well, my loid. [well: 
 
 Pol. And. invart. him , -but. yon may say, not 
 But, iftbe he Iviean. lie's very wild; 
 
Scene 2, 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 749 
 
 Addicted so and so; — and there put on Lim 
 What fougeries you please ; marry, none so rank 
 As may dishonour him; take heed of that; 
 But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips, 
 Am are companions noted and most known 
 To youth and liberty. 
 
 Hey. As gaming, my lord. 
 
 Pf'l. Ay, or drinking, t'enciug, swearing, quarrel- 
 Drnl)l)ing : — You may go so far. lling, 
 
 Bey. My lord, that would dishonour him. 
 Put. 'Faith, no ; as you may season it in the charge. 
 V"oii must not put another scandal on him. 
 That hf* 18 open to incontinency ; 
 'I'hat 8 not my meaning : but breathe his faults so 
 
 quaintly. 
 That they may seem the taints of liberty: 
 The flash and out-break ot a fiery mind ; 
 A savageness in unreclaimed blood, 
 Of general assault. 
 
 Rey. But, my good lord, — 
 
 Pol. Wherefore should you do this? 
 Rey. Ay, my lord, 
 
 I would know that. 
 
 Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift; 
 
 And, 1 believe, it is a fetch of warrant: 
 Von laying these slight sullies on my son, 
 As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'the working, 
 Mark you, 
 
 Vour party in converse, him you would sound, 
 Having ever seen in the predominate crimes. 
 The youth you breathe of, guilty, be aasur'd, 
 He closes with you in this consequence ; 
 Good sir, or so; or friend, or gentleman, — 
 According to the phrase, or the addition, 
 Of man, and country. 
 Rey. , Very good, my lord. 
 
 Pol. And then, sir, does he this, — he does — 
 What was I about to say ? By the mass, I was about 
 to say something:-.— Where did I leave? 
 Bfy. At, closes in the consequence. 
 Pol. At, closes ill the conse(|uence, — Ay, marry; 
 He closes with you thus: — I know the gentleman ; 
 1 satv him yesterday , or t'other day, 
 Or then, or then, with such, or such ; and, as you 
 
 say, 
 Ther? ivas he gaming ; there o'erlook in his rouse: 
 There falling out at tenjiis ; or, perchance, 
 I saw him enter such a house of sale, 
 [Videlicet, a brothel,) or so forth. — 
 See you now. 
 
 Vour bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth ; 
 And thus do we of wisdum and of reach. 
 With windlaces, and with assays of bias, 
 By indirections find directions out: 
 So, by my liirmer lecture and advice. 
 Shall you my son : You have me, have you not? 
 Rey. My lord, I have. 
 
 Pol. God be wi' you ; fare you well. 
 
 Rey. (rood my lord, — 
 Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. 
 Rey. 1 shall, my lord. 
 Pol. And let him ply his music. 
 Iley, Well, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Ophelia. 
 
 Pol. Farewell ! — How now, Ophelia? what's the 
 matter? 
 
 Opk. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so af- 
 iHghfed ! 
 
 Pol. With what, in the name of heaven ? 
 
 Op/t. i\ly lord, as I was sewing in my closet. 
 Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbrac'd ; 
 No hat upon his htad ; his stockings foul'd, 
 L'nsrarter'fl. and down-gy\ed to his ancle; 
 Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; 
 And with a look so piteous in purport. 
 As if he h d been loosed out ol' hell. 
 To speiik of horrors,— he comes belbre me. 
 
 Pol. Mad for thy love ? 
 
 Op/i. My lord, I do not know ; 
 
 But, truly, I do fear it. 
 
 Pol. What said he ? 
 
 Oph He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ; 
 Then goes he to the length of all his arm; 
 And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
 He falls to such perusal of my face, 
 As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so ; 
 At last, a little shaking of mine arm, 
 And thrice his head thus waving up and down,— 
 He rais'd a sigh so piteous and prol'ound, 
 At it did seem to shatter all his bulk, 
 And end his being : 'J'hat done, he lets me go: 
 And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, 
 He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ; 
 For out o'doois he went without their helps. 
 And, to the last, bended their lij^ht on me. 
 
 Pol. Rome, go„with n:e ; I vvill go seek the king;. 
 This is the very ecstasy of love ; 
 Whose violent property foredoes itself. 
 And leads the will to desperate undertakings. 
 As oft as any pa.ssiou under heaven. 
 That does afllict our natures. I am sorry, — 
 What, have you given him any hard words of late? 
 Opk. No, my good lord; but, as you did com- 
 mand, 
 I did repel his letters, and denied 
 His access to me. 
 
 Pol. That hath made him mad. 
 
 I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment, 
 I had not quoted him : I fear'd, he did but trifle, 
 And meant to wreck thee ; but, beshrew my jealousy! 
 It seems, it is as proper to our age 
 To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, 
 As it is common for the younger sort 
 To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king*: 
 This must be known; which, being kept close, 
 
 might move 
 More grief to hide, than hate to utter love. 
 Come. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guildew- 
 STERN, and A^'tendants. 
 
 King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and Guil- 
 denstern I 
 Moreover that we much did long to see ym. 
 The need, we have to use you, did provcrke 
 Our hasty sending. Something have you lieard 
 Of Hamlet's transformation ; so I call it. 
 Since not the exterior nor the inward man 
 Resembles that it was : What it should be. 
 More than his father's death, that thus hatii put him 
 So much from the understiinding of himself, 
 I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, 
 That, — being of so young days brought up with 
 him ; [mour, — 
 
 And, since, so neighbour'd to his youth and hu- 
 That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court 
 Some little time : so by your companies 
 To draw him on io pleasures ; and to gather. 
 So much as from occasion you may glean, 
 Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus. 
 That, open'd, lies within our remedy. , [you ; 
 
 Queen. Good gentlemen he hath much talk'd of 
 And, sure I am, two men there are not living. 
 To whom he more adheres. If it will please you 
 To shew us so much gentry, and good will. 
 As to expend your time with us a while. 
 For the supply and profit of our hope, 
 Yoor visitation shall receive such thanks 
 As fits a king's remembrance. 
 
 Ros. Both your majestiM 
 
 Might, by the sovereign power you have of us. 
 Put your dread pleasures more into command 
 Than to entreaty, 
 
 Guil. But we both obey ; 
 
 And here give up ourselves, in the full bent. 
 To lay our service freely at your feet, 
 To be commanded. 
 
750 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act II. 
 
 K'ni'j, Thanks, Roseucranfz, and gentle Guilden- 
 stern. [crantz : 
 
 Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle Rosen- 
 Aod I beseech you instantly to visit 
 My too much changed son. — Go, some of you. 
 And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. 
 
 Quil. Heavens make our presence, and our prac- 
 
 leasaut and helpful to him. [tices, 
 
 Queen. Ay, amen ! 
 
 \Exeitnt Rosencranfz, Guildenstern, and 
 some Attendants. 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 Pel, The embassadors from Norway, my good 
 lord, 
 Are joyfully return'd. [news. 
 
 King. Thou still hast been the father of good 
 
 Pol. Have I, my lord '^ Assure you, my good liege, 
 I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, 
 Both to my God, and to my gracious king : 
 And I do tiiink, (or else this brain of mine 
 Himts not tlie trail of policy so sure 
 As it hath us'd to do,) that I have found 
 The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. 
 
 KitHj. O, speak of that ; that do I long to hear. 
 
 Pol. Give first admittance to the embassadors; 
 My news shall be the fruit to that great least. 
 
 King. 'J'hyself do grace to them, and bring them 
 in. [Exit Polonius, 
 
 He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found 
 The head and source of all your son's distemper. 
 
 Queen. I doubt, it is no otlier but the main ; 
 His lather's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. 
 
 Re-enter Polonius, ivith Voltimand atid Corne- 
 lius. 
 
 King. Well, we shall sift him. — Welcome, my 
 gdDd Iriends .' 
 Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? 
 
 Volt. Most lair return of greetings, and desires. 
 Upon our fiist, he sent out to suppress 
 His nephew's levies; which to iiim appear'd 
 To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack ; 
 But, better look'd into, he truly found 
 It was aaainst your highness : Whereat griev'd, — 
 That so liis sickness, age, and impotence. 
 Was falsely borne in hand, — sends out arrests 
 On Fortinbras ; whicii he, in brief, obeys ; 
 Receives rebuke from Norway ; and, in fine, 
 Makes vow before his uncle, never more 
 To give the assay of arms against your majesty. 
 Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy. 
 Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee ; 
 And his commission, to employ those soldiers, 
 So levied as before, against the Polack; 
 With an entreaty, herein further shewn, 
 
 (Gives a paper.) 
 That it miifht please you to give quiet pass 
 TJirough your dominions for this enterprise ; 
 On such regards of safety, and allowance, 
 As flierein are set down. 
 
 King. It likes us well ; 
 
 And, at our more consider'd time, we'll read, 
 Answer, and think upon this business. 
 Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour: 
 Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: 
 Most welcome home ! 
 
 [Exeunt Voltimand and Cornelius. 
 
 Pol, 1'his business is well ended. 
 
 My liege, and madam, to expostulate 
 What majesty should be , what duty is, 
 Why day is day, night night, and time is time, 
 VVere nothing but to waste night, day, and time. 
 Therefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit, 
 And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, — 
 I will be brief: Your noble son is mad: 
 Mad, call I it: for to define true madness. 
 What is't, but to be nothing else but mad ? 
 Bui let that go. 
 
 Queen. More matter, with less art 
 
 Pol. Madam, I swear, I use no art at all. 
 
 That he is mad, 'tis true : 'tis true, 'ti.s pity j 
 
 And pity 'tis, 'tis true: a foolish figure ; 
 
 But farewell it, (or 1 will use no art. ' 
 
 Mad let us grant him then : and now remains, 
 
 That we find out the cause of this effect; 
 
 Or, rather say, the cause of this defect; 
 
 For tiiis effect, defective, comes by cause: 
 
 Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. 
 
 Perpend. 
 
 I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine; 
 
 Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, 
 
 Hath given me this : Now gather, and surmise. 
 
 — To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most 
 
 beautified Ophelia, — 
 
 That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautified is a 
 
 vile phrase; but you shall hear. — Thus: 
 
 In her excellent white bosom, these, &c. — 
 Queen. Came this fiom Hamlet to her"? 
 Pol. Good madam, stay au hile; I will be faithful. — 
 Doubt thou, the stars are fire ; {Reads.) 
 
 Doubt, that the sun doth move: 
 Doubt truth to be a liar ; 
 But never doid)t, 1 love. 
 O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; 1 
 have not art to reckon my gronnh : but that I lore 
 thee best, most best, believe it. Adieu. 
 
 Thine evermore, tnost dear lady, ivhilst 
 tins machine is to him, Hamlet. 
 This, in obedience, hath my daughter shewn me: 
 And more above , hath his .solicitmgs, 
 A.s they fell out by time, by means, and place. 
 Ail given to mine ear. 
 
 King. But how hath she 
 
 Receiv'd his love ? 
 Pol. What do you think of me ? 
 
 Kino. As of a man laithfid and honourable. 
 Pol. 1 would fain prove so. But what might you 
 think. 
 When I had seen this hot love on the wing, 
 (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that. 
 Before my daughter told me,) what miglit you. 
 Or my dear majesty your queen here, think. 
 If I had play'd the desk, or table-book; 
 Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb; 
 Or look'd upon this loxe witli idle sight; 
 What might you think ? no, I went rt)imd to work 
 And my young mistress thus did I bespeak ; 
 Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy sphere ; 
 This must not be : and then I precepts gave her. 
 That she should lock herself from his resort, 
 Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. 
 Which done, she took the fruits of my advice ; 
 And he, repulsed, { a short tale to make,) 
 Fell into a sadness ; then into a fast; 
 Thence to a watch ; thence into a weakness ; 
 Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension. 
 Into the madness wherein now he raves, 
 And all we mourn for. 
 
 King, Do you think, 'tis this? 
 
 Queen. It may be, very likely. 
 Pol. Hath there been such a time, (I'd (aift know 
 that,) 
 That I have positively said. 'Tis so, 
 When it prov'd otherwise ? 
 King. Not that I know. 
 
 Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise : 
 
 (Pointing to his head and shoulder.) 
 If circumstances lead me, I will find 
 Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
 Within the centre. 
 
 Kitig. How may we try it further? 
 
 Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours 
 Here in the lobby. (together. 
 
 Queen, So he does, indeed. 
 
 Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to hina' 
 Be you and I behind an arras then; 
 Mark the encounter: if he love her not. 
 And be not from his reason fallen thereon 
 Let me be no assistant (or a state. 
 But keep a farm, and carters. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 II 
 
 Kittg. We will try it. 
 
 Enter Hamlet, reading. 
 
 Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch 
 comes reading. 
 
 Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away ; 
 I'll board him presently : — O, give me leave. — 
 
 [Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. 
 How does my good lord Hanilet? 
 
 Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy. 
 
 Pol- Do you know nie, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Excellent well ; you are a fishmonger. 
 
 Pol. Not I, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. 
 
 Pol. Honest, my lord ? 
 
 Hatn, Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, 
 is to be one man picked out often thousand. 
 
 Pol. That's very true, my lord. 
 
 Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, 
 being a god, kissing carrion, — Have you a daughter? 
 
 Pol. I have, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is 
 a blessing; but as your daughter may conceive, — 
 friend, look to't. 
 
 Pol. How say you by that' [Aside.) Still harping 
 on my daughter : — yet he knew me not at first ; he 
 said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone : 
 and, truly, in my youth I sutiered much extremity 
 for love ; very near this. I'll speak to him again. — 
 What do you read, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Words, words, M'ords ! 
 
 Pol. What is the matter, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Between who ? 
 
 Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says 
 here, that old men have grey beards ; that their 
 faces are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick amber, 
 and plum-tree gum; Snd that they have a plentiful 
 lack of wit, together with most weak hams: All of 
 which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently 
 believe, yet f hold it not honesty to have it thus set 
 down ; for yourself, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, 
 like a crab, you could, go backward. 
 
 Pol. Tliough this be madness, yet there's method 
 in it. [Aside.) Will you walkout of the air, ray lord? 
 
 Ham. Into my grave ? 
 
 Pul. Indeed, that is out o'the air. — How preg- 
 nant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that 
 often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could 
 not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave 
 him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting 
 between him and my daughter. — My honourable 
 lord. I will most humbly take my leave of you. 
 
 Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing 
 that I will more willingly part withal ; except my 
 life, except my life, except my life. 
 
 Pol. Fare you well, my lord. 
 
 Ham. These tedious old fools ! 
 
 Enter Rosencr.\ntz ^mc? Guildenstern. 
 
 Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet; there he is. 
 
 Ros. God save you, sir ! ( To Polonius.) 
 
 [Exit Polonius. 
 
 Guil. My honour'd lord ! — 
 
 Ros. My most dear lord ! 
 
 Hatn. My excellent good friends ! How dost thou, 
 I Jnililenstern ? Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads, how 
 ilo ve both ? 
 
 Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. 
 
 Guil. Happy, in that we are not over-happy ; 
 On fortune's cap we are not the very button. 
 
 Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe ? 
 
 Ros. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the 
 middle of her favours ? 
 
 Guil. 'Faith, her privates we. 
 
 Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, most 
 true ; she is a strumpet. What news ? 
 
 Ros. None, my lord ; but that the world's grown 
 Qonest. 
 
 Ham. Then is dooms day near : But your news 
 
 is not true. Let me question more in particular 
 What have you, my good friends, deserved at the 
 hands of fortune, that she sends you to priaun hither? 
 
 Guil. Prison, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Denmark's a prison. 
 
 Ros. Then is the world one. 
 
 Ham. A goodly one ; in which there ar<» many 
 confines, wards, and dungeons ; Denmark being one 
 of the worst. 
 
 Rgs. We think not so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you ; for there is 
 nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so : 
 to me it is a prison. 
 
 Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one ; 'tia 
 too narrow for your mind. 
 
 Ham. O God ! I could be bounded in a nut-shell, 
 and count myself a king of infinite S|)ace ; were it 
 not that I have bad dreams. 
 
 Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition ; for 
 the very substance of the ambitious is merely the 
 shadow of a dream. 
 
 Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. 
 
 Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and 
 light a quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. 
 
 Ham. Then are our beggars, bodies ; and our 
 monarehs, and outstretch'd heroes, the beggars' 
 shadows : Shall we to the court ? for, by my fay, I 
 cannot reason. 
 
 Ros. Guil. We'll wait upon you. 
 
 Ham. No such matter: I will not sort you with 
 the rest of my servants ; for, to speak to you likf» 
 an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, 
 in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at. 
 Elsinore ? 
 
 Ros. To visit yon, my lord ; no other occasion. 
 
 Ham. Beggarthat I am, I anieven poor in thanks; 
 but I tliank you : and sure, dear i'riends, my thanks 
 are too dear, a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? 
 Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? 
 Come, come; deal justly with me: come, come; 
 nay, speak. 
 
 Guil. What should we say, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Anything — but to the purpose. You were 
 sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your 
 looks, which your modesties have not crait enough 
 to colour : I know, the good king and queen have 
 sent for you. 
 
 Ros. To what end, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con- 
 jure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the 
 consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our 
 ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a bet- 
 ter proposer could charge you withal, be even and 
 direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no ? 
 
 Ros. What say you ? ( To Guildenstern.) 
 
 Ham. Nay, then, I have an eye of you ; [Aside.) 
 — if you love me, hold not oft'. 
 
 Guil. My lord, we were .sent for. 
 
 Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipa- 
 tion prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to 
 the king and queen moult no feather. I ha\e of 
 late, ( but, wherefore, I know not, ) lost all my niirth, 
 forgone all custom of exercises : and, indeed, it goes 
 so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly 
 frame, the earth, seems to me a steril promontory ; 
 this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this 
 brave o'er-hanging firmament, this majestical roof 
 fretted witli golden fire, why, it appears no other 
 thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation 
 of vapours. What a piece of work is a man ! How 
 noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties! in form, 
 and moving, how express and admirable ! in action, 
 how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a god .' 
 the beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals ! 
 And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust ? 
 man delights not me, nor woman neither; tiraugh, 
 by your smiling, you seem to say so. 
 
 Ros. My lord, there is no such stuff in my thoughts. 
 
 Ham. VVhy did you laughtthen, when I said, Man 
 delights not me? 
 
752 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Ros. To tliink, my lord, if you delifjht not iu man, 
 wliat lenfen entertainruent the players shall receive 
 from you ; we coled them on t>ie way ; and hither 
 are they coining, to ofier yon service. 
 
 Ham. He that plays the king, shall be welcome ; 
 his maiesty shall have tribute of me : the adven- 
 turous knight shall use his foil, and target: the lover 
 shall nit sigh gratis ; the humorous man shall end 
 his part in peace : the clown shall make those laugh, 
 whose lungs are tickled o'the sere ; and the lady 
 shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall 
 halt for't. — What players are they? 
 
 Hos. Even those yon were wont to take such de- 
 light in, the tragedians of the city. 
 
 Ham. How chances it, they travel ? their resi- 
 dence, both in reputation and profit, was better both 
 ways. 
 
 Ros. I think, their inhibition comes by the means 
 of the late innovation. 
 
 Ham. Do tiiey hold the same estimation they did 
 when 1 was in the city ? Are they so followed r 
 Ros. No, indeed, they are not. 
 Ham. How comes it '! Do they grow rusty ? 
 Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted 
 pace : But there is, sir, an aiery of children, little 
 eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are 
 most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now tlie 
 fashion ; and so berattle the common stages, ( so 
 they call them,) that many, wearing rapiers, are 
 afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither. 
 Ham, What, are they children? who maintains 
 them ? how are they escoted ? Will they pursue 
 the quality no longer than they can sing ? will they 
 not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves 
 to common players, ( as it is most like, if their means 
 are no better, ) their writers do them wrong, to 
 make them exclaim against their own succession? 
 
 Ros. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both 
 sides ; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them 
 on to controversy : there was, for a while, no money 
 bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went 
 to cuffs in. the question. 
 Ham. Is it possible ? 
 Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of 
 
 brains. 
 Ham. Do the boys carry it away ? 
 Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord ; Hercules and 
 his load too. 
 
 Ham. ft is not very strange : for my uncle is king 
 of Denmark ; and those, that would make mouths 
 at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, 
 fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture m 
 little. 'Sbloud, there is something in this more than 
 natural, if philosophy could find it out. 
 
 (Flourish of trumpets ivithin.) 
 Guil. There are the players. 
 
 Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. 
 Your hands. Come then : the appurtenance of 
 welcome is fashion and ceremony : let me comply 
 with you in this garb ; lest my extent to the players, 
 which, I tell you, must shew fairly outward, should 
 more appear like entertainment than yours. \ou 
 are welcome ; but my uncle-father, and aunt-mother, 
 are deceived. 
 
 Ouil. In what, my dear lord ? 
 Ha7n. i am but mad north-north-west: when the 
 wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hand saw. 
 
 Enter Polontus. 
 
 Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen ! 
 
 Ham, Hark you, Guildenstern?— and you, too; 
 — at each ear a hearer : that great baby, you see 
 there, is not yet out of his swaddling-cloiits. 
 
 Ros. Hafipily, he's the second time come to them ; 
 for, they say, an old man, is twice a child. 
 
 Ham. I Mill prophesy, he comes to tell me of the 
 players ; mark it. — Vou say right, sir : o'Monday 
 morning, 'twas then, indeed. 
 
 Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. 
 
 Ham. My lord, 1 have news to tell you. When 
 
 RoKciuR was an actor in Rome, — 
 
 Pol. 'i'he actors are come hither, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Buz, buz I 
 
 Pol. Upon my honour, — 
 
 Ham. Then came each actor on his as»,~- 
 
 Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tra' 
 gedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical 
 historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical- C4 
 mical historical-pastoral, scene individable, orpo%'ib 
 unlimited : Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautiw 
 loo light. For the law of writ, and the liberty, 
 these are tlie only men. 
 
 Ham. Jephthah, judge of Israel, — what a trea- 
 sure hadst thou ! 
 
 Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Why — One fair daughter, and no moret 
 The w/iic/i he loved passing well. 
 
 Pol, Still on my dfsugtiter. (Aside.) 
 
 Ham. Ami not i'the right, old Jephthah ? 
 
 Pul. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a 
 daughter that 1 love passing well. 
 
 Ham. Nay, that follows not. 
 
 Pol. What follows then, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot, and then, you 
 know. It came to pass, As most like it was, — The 
 first row of the pious chanson will shew you more; 
 tor look, my abridgment comes. 
 
 Enter Four or Five Players. 
 
 You are welcome, masters ; welcome, all : — I am 
 glad to see thee well : — welcome, good friends. — 
 O, old friend? Why, thy face is valanced since 1 
 saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me in Den- 
 mark '! — What ! my young lady and mistress ! By-'r- 
 lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven, than when 
 I saw you last, by the altitude of a cliopine. Pray 
 God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be 
 not cracked within the ring. — Masters, you are all 
 welcome. We'll e'en to it like French falconers, lly 
 at any thing we see : We'll have a speech straight : 
 Come, give us a taste of your quality ; come, a pas- 
 sionate speech. 
 
 i Play. What speech, my lord ? 
 Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, — 
 but it was never acted ; or, if it was, not above 
 once : tor the play, I remember, pleased not the 
 million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was 
 ( as I received it, and others, whose judguients, in 
 such matters, cried in the top of mine, ) an excel- 
 lent play ; well digested in the scenes, set down with 
 as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one 
 said, there were no salads in the lines, to make the 
 matter savoury ; nor no matter in the phnise, that 
 might indite the author of afiection : but called it, 
 an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by 
 very much more handsome than fine. One speech 
 in it I chiefly lov'd : 'twas ^Eneas' tale to Dido ; 
 and thereabout of it especially, where he s eaks of 
 Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin 
 at this line ; let me see, let me see ; 
 
 The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian heast, — 
 'tis not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus. 
 
 The rugged Pyrrhus, — he, lohose sable arms, 
 Black as his purpose, did the night resemble, 
 When he lay couched in the ominous horse. 
 Hath now this dread and black complexion 
 
 smear d 
 With heraldry more dismal; head to foot 
 Noiv is he total gules ; horridly trick d 
 With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons; 
 liak'd and impasted ivilh the parching streets. 
 That lend a tyrannous and a damned light 
 To their lord s murder : Roasted in wrath, and 
 
 fire, 
 And thus o'er sized with coagulate gore. 
 With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus 
 Old grandsire Priam seeks; — Sn, proci ed you. 
 Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good 
 accent, and good disi retioii. 
 1 Play. Anon he finds him 
 
Act III. Scene 1. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK 
 
 753 
 
 Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword. 
 Rebellious to his arm. lies where it falls, 
 Repuanant to command : Unequal match' d, 
 Pyrrluis at Priam drives; in rage, sfrilces wide; 
 But with the whiff and ivind of his fell sword 
 The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, 
 Seeming to fell this blow, withflamirtg top 
 Stoops to his base ; and with a hideous crash 
 Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear :for, lo ! his sword 
 Which teas declining on the milky head 
 Of reverend Priam, seem' din the air to stick : 
 So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood; 
 And, like a neutral to his will and matter^ 
 Did nothing. 
 
 But, as we often see, against some storm, 
 A silence in the heavens, the rack standstill, 
 The bold winds speechless, and the orb below 
 As hush as death : anon the dreadful thunder 
 Doth rend the region : So, after Pyrrhus' pause, 
 A roused venrjeance sets him new a tvork ; 
 And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall 
 On Mars' s armour, f org' d for proof eterne, 
 With less remorse man Pyrrhus' bleeding 
 
 sword 
 Now falls on Priam. — 
 
 Out, out, thou strumpet. Fortune! All you gods. 
 In general synod, take away her power; 
 Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel. 
 And bowl the round fiave down the hill of 
 
 heaven. 
 As low as to the fiends ! 
 Pol. This is too ioug. 
 
 Ham. It siiall to the barber's, with your beard. 
 — Pr'ythee, s:fv on : — He's for a ji^, or a tale 
 of bawdry, or he sleeps: — say on : come to He- 
 cuba. 
 I Play. But who, ah woe ! had seen the mobled 
 
 queen — 
 Ham. The mobled queen ? 
 Pol. That's good ; mobled queen is good. 
 1 Play. Run barefoot up and doivn, threat'ning 
 
 the flames 
 With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head. 
 Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe , 
 About her lank and all o'er-ieeming loins, 
 A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up ; 
 Whothishadseen,}oithtonguein venom steep' d, 
 ^Gainst fortune s state ivould treason have pro- 
 
 nounc'd: 
 But if the gods themselves did see her then, 
 When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport, 
 In mincing with his sword her husbands limbs; 
 The instant burst of clamour that she made. 
 (Unless things mortal move them not at all,) 
 Would have made milch the burning eye of 
 
 heaven. 
 And passion in the gods- 
 Pol. Look, whether he has not turned his colour, 
 and has tears in's eyes. — Pr'ythee, no more. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest 
 of this soon. — Good my lord, will you see the players, 
 well bestowed ? Do you hear, let them be well 
 used ; for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles, 
 of the time : After your death you vvere better have 
 a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you live. 
 
 Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their 
 desert. 
 
 Ham. Odd's bodikin, man, much better: Use 
 every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape 
 whipping'? Use them after your own honour and 
 dignity : The less they deserve, the more merit is in 
 your bounty. Take them in, 
 Pol. Come, sirs. 
 
 [Exit Polonius, with some of the Players. 
 Ham. Follow him, triends: we'll hear a play to- 
 morrow. — Dost thou hear me, old friend ; can you 
 play the murder of Gonzago i 
 1 Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. We'll iuive it fo-morrow night You could, 
 for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen 
 
 lines, wliirh 1 would set down, and insert in't ? 
 could you not? 
 
 1 Play. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Hatn. Very well.— Follow that lord; and look 
 you mock him not, [Exit Player.] My good friends, 
 (To Bos. andGuil.) I'll leave you tiU night: you 
 are welcome to Elsinore. 
 
 Ros. Good my lord ! [E.xeunt Ros. and Guild, 
 
 Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : — Now I am alone. 
 O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I 
 Is it not monstrous, that this player here, 
 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion. 
 Could force his soul to his own conceit, 
 That from her working, all his visage wann'd; 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, 
 A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing I 
 For Hecuba ! 
 
 What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
 That he should weep for her? What W9uld he do, 
 Had he the motive, and the cue for passion. 
 That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears, 
 And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; 
 Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, 
 Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed. 
 The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
 Yet I, 
 
 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak. 
 Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
 And can say nothing ; no, not for a king. 
 Upon whose property, and most dear life, 
 A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ? 
 Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? 
 Plucks ofTmy beard, and blows it in my face ? 
 Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i'the 
 
 throat. 
 As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? 
 Ha ! 
 
 Why, I should take it: for it cannot be. 
 But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall 
 To make oppression bitter : or, ere this, 
 I .should have fatted all the region kites 
 With this slave's ofl'al : Bloody, bawdy villain ! 
 Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless vil- 
 lain ! 
 VVhy, what an ass am I? This is most brave; 
 That I, the son of a dear father murder'd. 
 Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell. 
 Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words 
 And fall a cursing, like a very drab, 
 A scullion! 
 Fye upon't! foh ! About my brains! Humph! I have 
 
 heard. 
 That guilty creatures, sifting at a play, 
 Have by the very cunning of the scene 
 Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
 They have proclaim'd their malefactions ; 
 For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
 With most miraculous organ. I'll liave these playen 
 Play something like the murder of my father, 
 Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; 
 I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench, 
 I know my course. The spirit, that I have seeo. 
 May be a devil ; and the devil hath power 
 To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, ijerhaps. 
 Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, 
 (As he is very potent with such spirits,) 
 Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds 
 More relative than this : The play's the tiling, 
 Wherein I'll catch the conscience' of llie king. [Exit 
 
 ACT IH. 
 Scene \.—A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter King. Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosen- 
 CRANTZ. and Guildenstern. 
 King. And can you, by no drift of conference, 
 Get from him, why he puts on this cdnfiisiuu; 
 Grating so harshly all his dajs of quiet 
 With turbulent and djumtmus lunacy"'' 
 
754 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act in. 
 
 Ros. He does confess, he feels himself distracted; 
 But from what cause he will by no means speak. 
 
 GuiL Nor do sve find him forward to be sounded ; 
 But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof. 
 When we would bring him on to some confession 
 Ol' his true state. 
 
 Queen. Did he receive you well ? 
 
 /ios. Most like a gentleman. _ | 
 
 Ouil. But with much forcnig of his disposition. | 
 
 Ihs. Niggard of question; but, of our demands, 
 Most free in his reply. 
 
 Queen. Did you assay him 
 
 To any pastime ? 
 
 Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players 
 We o'er-raught on the way : of these we told him ; 
 And there did seem in him a kind of joy 
 To hear of it: They are about the court; 
 And, as I think, they have already order 
 I'll is night to play before him. 
 
 Pol. 'Tis most true : 
 
 And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties, 
 To hear and see the matter. 
 
 Kitig. With all my heart; and it doth much con- 
 tent me, 
 To hear him so inclin'd. 
 Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, 
 And drive his purpose on to these delights. 
 
 7?o.?. We shall, my lord. lE-xeutit Res. andGuUd. 
 
 King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too: 
 
 For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither; 
 That he, as 'twere by accident, may here 
 Affront Ophelia : 
 
 Her father, and myself (lawful espials,) 
 Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen, 
 We may of their encounter frankly judge ; 
 And gather by him, as he is behav'd, 
 If't be the afUiction of his love, or no, 
 That thus he suUers for. 
 
 Queen. I shall obey you : 
 
 And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish. 
 That your good beauties be the happy cause 
 Of Hamlet's wildness : so shall 1 hope, your virtues 
 Will bring him to his wonted way again, 
 To both your honours. 
 
 Oph. Madam, I wish it may. 
 
 [Exit Queen. 
 
 Pol. Ophelia, walk you here :— Gracious, so 
 please you, 
 We will bestow ourselves : — Read on this book ; 
 
 {To Ophelia.) 
 That shew of such an exercise may colour 
 Your loneliness. — We are oft to blame in this, — 
 'Tis too much proved, — that, with devotion's visage, 
 And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
 The devil himself. 
 
 King. O, 'tis too true ! how smart 
 
 A lash that speech doth give my conscience ! 
 The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art. 
 Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it. 
 Than is my deed to ray most painted word : 
 O heavy burden ! [Aside.) 
 
 Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, mv lord. 
 [Exeunt King and Polonius. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question .' — 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. 
 And, by opposing, end them? — To die, — to sleep, — 
 No more ; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, — to sleep ; — 
 To Bleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the rub ; 
 For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil. 
 Must give us pause : there's the respect, 
 That makes calamity of so long life : 
 V<n wliQ would bear the whips and scorns of time. 
 
 The oppressor's wrong, tlie proud man's contumely, 
 
 'I'he pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 
 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes. 
 
 When he himself might his quietus make 
 
 VVith a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
 
 'J'o grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
 
 But that the dread of something after death,— 
 
 The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns, — puzzles tiie will; 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have. 
 
 Than fly to others that we know not of? 
 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; 
 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment. 
 
 With this regard, their currents turn awry. 
 
 And lose the name of action. — Soft you, now! 
 
 The fair Ophelia:— Nymph, in thy orisons 
 
 Be all my sins remember'd. 
 
 Oph. Good my lord, 
 
 How does your honour for this many a day i 
 Ham. I humbly thank you ; well. 
 Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours. 
 That I have longed long to re-deliver; 
 I pray you, now receive them. 
 
 Ham. No, not I ; 
 
 I never gave yon aught. [did ; 
 
 Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you 
 And, with them, words of so sweet breath compos'd 
 As made the things more rich : their perfume lost. 
 Take these again ; for to the noble nund, 
 Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind. 
 There, my lord. 
 Ham. Ha, ha ! are you honest? 
 Oph. My lord ? 
 Ham. Are you fair? 
 Oph. What means your lordship ? 
 Ham. That if you be honest, and fair, yon should 
 admit no discourse to your beauty. 
 
 Oph. CwfA beauty, my lord, have better com- 
 merce than with honesty ? 
 
 Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will 
 sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, 
 than the force of honesty can translate beauty into 
 his likeness ; this wassonie time a paradox, but now 
 the time gives it proof I did love you once. 
 Oph. Indeed, ray lord, you made me believe so. 
 Ham. You should not have believed me ; for 
 virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall 
 relish of it: 1 lov'd you not. 
 
 Oph. I was the more deceived. 
 Ham. Get thee to a niranery; why would'st thou 
 be a breeder of sinners? 1 am myself indifferent 
 honest; but yet I cotdd accuse me of such things, 
 that it were better, my mother had not borne me : 
 I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious ; with more 
 offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put 
 them in, imagination to give them shape, or time 
 to act them in : What .should such fellows as I do 
 crawling between earth and heaven ! We are arrant 
 knaves, all ; believe none of us : Go thy ways to u 
 nunnery. VVhere's your father? 
 Oph. At home, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him ; that he 
 may play the fool no where but in's own house. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! 
 Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague 
 for thy dowry; Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as 
 snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a 
 nunnery ; farewell : Or, if thou wilt needs marry, 
 marry a fool ; for wise men know well enough, what 
 monsters you make of them. Go a nunnery, go ; and 
 quickly too. Farewell. 
 
 Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him ! 
 
 Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well 
 
 enough ; God hath given you one face, and you make 
 
 yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you 
 
 lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 751 
 
 wantonness youi ignorance : Go to ; I'll no more oft ; 
 it liath made nie mad. I say, we will ha\e no more 
 marriages: those that are married already, all but 
 line, shall live ; the rest shall keep as tiiey are. To 
 H nunnery, go. _ [Exit. 
 
 Op/t. O, wliat a noble mind is here o'erthrown ! 
 The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, 
 
 sword : 
 The expectancy and rose of the fair state. 
 The glass of fashion, and (he mould of form, 
 The observ'd of all observers ! quite, quite down ! 
 And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, 
 That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
 Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
 Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh ; 
 That nnmatch'd form and feature of blown youth. 
 Blasted with ecstasy : O, woe is me ! 
 To have seen what 1 have seen, seen what I see 1 
 
 Re-enter King and Polonius. 
 
 King. Love ! his affections do not that way tend ; 
 Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little. 
 Was not like madness. There's something in his soul. 
 O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; 
 And, I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose. 
 Will be some danger: Which, for to prevent, 
 I have, in quick determination, 
 'J'lius set itdown : He .shall with speed to England, 
 For the demand of our neglected tribute: 
 Haply, the seas, and coimtries different. 
 With variable objects, shall expel 
 This sonitthing-settled matter in his heart; 
 \V'^hereon liis brains still beating, puts him thus 
 From fashion of himself. What think you on't ? 
 
 Pol. It shall do well : but yet I do believe, 
 The origin and cotnmencement of his grief 
 Sprung from neglected love. — How now, Ophelia? 
 1 on need not tell ns what lord Hamlet said ; 
 We heard it all. — My lord, do as you please; 
 Out, if you hold it fit, after the play. 
 Let his queen motlier all alone entreat him 
 To shew his grief; let her lie round witii him; 
 And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear 
 Of all their conference: if she find him not, 
 'l"o England send him : or confine him, where 
 V our wisdom best shall think. 
 
 King. It shall be so : 
 
 Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. 
 
 lExe7i?it. 
 
 Scene II. — A Hall in the same. 
 
 Enter H.4mlet, and certain Players. 
 
 Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pro- 
 nounced it to you, trijjpingly on the tongue : but if 
 you mouth it, as many of our players do, 1 had as lief 
 the tinvn-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw (he 
 air too much with your hand, thus ; but rise al' gently : 
 toy in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) 
 whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and 
 beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O, 
 it oli'ends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig- 
 pnted lelluw tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, 
 to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the 
 most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable 
 dumb shews, and noise : I would have such a fellow 
 whi|)ped for o'er-doing Termagant ; it out-herods 
 Herod: Pray you, a\oid it. 
 
 1 Ploy. I warrant your honour. 
 
 Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
 discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, 
 the word to the action ; with this special observance, 
 that you o'er-stepnot the modesty of nature : for any 
 thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
 whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, ! 
 to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to shew 
 virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and 
 the very age and body of the time, his form and pres- 
 siu-e. Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, though 
 it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the 
 judicious grieve ; the censure of which one must, in 
 
 your allowance, o'erwcigh a whole theatre of others. 
 O, there be jdayers, that I have seen play, — and heard 
 others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it pro- 
 fanely, that, neither having the accent of christians, 
 nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor man, have so 
 strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of 
 nature's journeymen had made men, and not made 
 them well, they imitated humanity so abominablv. 
 
 I Play. I hope, we have reformed that indifferently 
 with us. 
 
 Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those, that 
 play your clowns, speak no more than is set down 
 for them : for there be of them, that will themsehes 
 laugh, to set on. some quantity of barren spectators to 
 laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary 
 question of the play be then to be considered: that's 
 villanous ; and shews a most pitiful ambition in the 
 fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. 
 
 [Exeunt players. 
 
 Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guilden- 
 
 STERN. 
 
 How now, my lord ? will the king hear this piece of 
 work ? 
 
 Pol. And the queen too, and that presently. 
 
 Ham. Bid the players make haste. — 
 
 [Exit Polonius. 
 Will you two help to hasten them ? 
 
 Both. Ay, my lord. [Exeunt Ros. and Guild. 
 
 Ham. What, ho ; Horatio ! 
 
 Enter HoRATio. 
 Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. 
 Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man 
 As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. 
 Hor. O, my dear lord, — 
 
 Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter : 
 
 For what advancement may I hope from thee, 
 That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, 
 'J^o feed, and clothe thee? \Vhy should the poor be 
 
 flatter'd '? 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
 And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, 
 Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ? 
 Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice. 
 And could of men distinguish her election, 
 Slie hath seal'd thee for lierself : for thou hast been 
 As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; 
 A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards 
 Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bles.s'd are those, 
 Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, 
 That they are not a pipe lor fortune's finger 
 To sound what stop she please : Gi\e me that man, 
 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
 In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart. 
 As 1 do thee. — Something too much of this. — 
 There is a play to-night before the king; 
 One scene of it comes near the circumstance. 
 Which I have told thee of my father's death. 
 I pr'ythec, when thou seest that act afoot. 
 Even with the very comment of thy soul 
 Observe my uncle : if his occulted guilt 
 Do not itself unkennel in one speech. 
 It is a damned ghost that we have seen ; 
 And njy imaginations are as foul. 
 As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note: 
 For I mine eyes will ri\ et to his face ; 
 And, alter, we will both our judgments join 
 In censure of his seeming. 
 
 Hor. Well, my lord : 
 
 If he steal aught, the whilst this play is playing, 
 And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. 
 
 Ham. They are coming to the play ; I must be 
 Get you a place. [idle : 
 
 Danish march. A Flourish. Enter King, Queen, 
 Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guilden- 
 STERN, and others. 
 
 King. How fares our cousin Handet? 
 
 Ham. Excellent, iTaith; of (he camelion's didli: 
 
766 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act ITT. 
 
 I eat the air, promise-crammed : Y ou cannot leed 
 capons so. 
 
 King. I have nothing with tliis answer, Hamlet; 
 these words are not mine. 
 
 Ham. No, nor mine now. My lord,— you played 
 once in the university, you say? (To Polonius.) 
 Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted a 
 good actor. 
 Ham. And what did yon enact? 
 Pol. I did enact Julius Ca»sar: I was killed i'the 
 Ca|jitol ; Brutus killed me. 
 
 Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill so capital 
 d call' there.— Be the players ready ? 
 Rus. Ay, my lord ; they stay upon vour patience. 
 Qneon. Come hither, niy dear Hamlet, sit by me. 
 Ham No, ^ood jnother, here's metal more at- 
 rartive. -' ' - •• 
 
 Pol. O ho ! do you mark that ? {To the King.) 
 Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap ? 
 
 [Lying down at Ophelia's feet.) 
 Oph. No, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap ? 
 Oph. Ay, my lord. 
 . Ham. Do you think, I meant country matters ? 
 Oph. I think nothing, my lord. [legs. 
 
 Ham. Tiiafs a fair thought to lie between maids' 
 Oph. What is, my lord ? 
 Ham Nothing. 
 Oph. You are merry, my lord. 
 Ham. Who. I ? 
 Oph. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ham. O ! youV only jig-maker. What should a 
 man do, but be merry ? for, look you, how cheer- 
 fully my mother looks, and my iailier died within 
 these two hours. 
 
 Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. 
 Ha)n. So long? Nay, then let the devil wear 
 black, for I II have a suit of sables. O heavens ! die 
 two months ago, and not forgotten yet ? Then there's 
 hope, a great man's memory may outlive his life 
 half a year: But, b>'r-lady, he must build churches 
 then : or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with 
 the iiobby-horse ; whose epitaph is, For, 0, for, 0, 
 the hobby-horse is forgot. 
 
 Trmnpets sound. The dumb sheiv follows. 
 
 Enter a King and a Queen, very lovingly ; the 
 Queen etnbracing him, and he her. She kneels, 
 and malces shew of protestatio7i unto him. He 
 t(f.lces her up, and declines his head upon her 
 neck : lays him doivn upon a bank of flowers ; 
 she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes 
 in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and 
 pours poison in the King's ear, and exit. The 
 Queen returns; finds the King dead, and 
 makes passionate action. The poisoner, with 
 some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seem- 
 ing to lament with her. The dead body is car- 
 ried away. The poisoner wooes the Queen with 
 gifts ; she seems loath and unwilling awhile, 
 out. in the e7id, accepts his love. [Exeunt. 
 
 Oph. What means this, my lord ? 
 Ham. Marry, this is miching mallecho ; it means 
 
 mischiff. [the play. 
 
 Oph. Belike, this shew imports the argument of 
 
 Enter Prologue. 
 Ham. We shall know by this fellow : the players 
 cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all. 
 
 Oph. Will he tell us what this shew meant? 
 Ham. Ay, ^r any shew that you'll shew him: 
 Be not you ashamed to shew, he'll not shame to 
 tell you what it means. [the play. 
 
 0/ih. Vouare naught, you are naught ;«ril mark 
 Pro. For us, and for our tragedy. 
 
 Here stoojiing to ijour clemency, 
 We beg your hearing patiently. 
 Ham. Is tins a prolngiie, or ttie posy of a ring? 
 0)ih. 'Tis bilel', my lord. 
 Ham. As vvoMiiin'.s line. 
 
 Enter a King and a Queen. 
 P. King. Full tliiity times hath Plioebus' cart 
 gone round 
 Neptune's salt wash, and Telius' orbed ground; 
 And thirty dozen moons, with borrow'd sii>»en, 
 About the world have times twelve thirties been ; 
 Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands. 
 Unite commutual in most sacred bands. 
 
 P. Queen. So many journies may tlie.sunandaiooa 
 Make us again count o'er, ere love be done ] 
 But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, 
 So lar from cheer, and from your former state, 
 'I'liat I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust. 
 Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must: 
 For women fear too much, even as tliey love; 
 And women's fear and love hold quantity ; 
 In neither aught, or in extremity. 
 Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; 
 And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. 
 Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear: 
 Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. 
 P. King. 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and 
 shortly too; 
 My operant powers their functions leave to do: 
 And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, 
 Honour'd, belov'd ; and, haply, one as kind 
 F'or husband shalt thou — 
 
 P. Queen. O, confound the rest ! 
 
 Such love must needs be treason in my breast : 
 In second husband let me be accurst ! 
 None wed the second, but who kill'd the first 
 Ham. That's wormwood. 
 
 P. Queen. The instances, that second marriage 
 move. 
 Are base respects of thrift, but none of love ; 
 A second time I kill my husband dead, 
 When second husband kisses me in bed. 
 P. King. I do believe, you think what now yon 
 speak ; 
 But, what we do determine, oft we break. 
 Purpose is but the slave to memory : 
 Of violent birth, but poor validity : 
 Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree; 
 But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. 
 Most necessary 'tis, that we forget 
 To pay ourselves what to ourselves is d^bt: 
 What to ourselves in passion we propose. 
 The passion ending, dotli the purpose lose. 
 The violence of either grief or joy 
 Their own enactures with themselves destroy : 
 Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; 
 Grief Joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. 
 This world is not for aye ; nor 'tis not strange, 
 7'hat even our loves should with our fortunes change ; 
 For, 'tis a question left ns yet to prove. 
 Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. 
 The great man down, you mark, his favourite flies; 
 The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies. 
 And hitherto doth love on fortune tend : 
 For who not needs, shall never lack a friend; 
 And who in want a hollow friend doth try. 
 Directly seasons him his enemy. 
 But, orderly to end where I begun, 
 Our wills, and fates, do so contrary run. 
 That our devices still are overthrown; 
 Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of onr own : 
 So think thou wilt no second husband wed ; 
 But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead. 
 P. Queen. Nor earth to give me food, nor heaven 
 light! 
 Sport and repose lock from me, day and night! 
 To desperation turn my trust and hope ! 
 .4n anchor's cheer in prison be my scope ! 
 Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy, 
 Meet what I would have well, and it destroy! 
 Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife, 
 II, luice a widow, ever I be wife I 
 
 Ham If she should break it now, — {To Ophelia.) 
 P. Kitig. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me 
 here a while : 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 767 
 
 My spirits grow (lull, and fain 1 would beguile 
 The tedious day with slt;ep. {Sleeps.) 
 
 P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain ; 
 
 And iiexerconie mischance between its twain! [Exit. 
 
 Ham. Madam, how like you this play ? 
 
 Queen. The lady doth protest too niucn, methinks. 
 
 Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. 
 
 King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no 
 offence in"t? 
 
 Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no 
 ofl'ence i'the world. 
 
 King. What do you call the play ? 
 
 Ham. The mousetrap. Marry, how? Tropically. 
 This play is the iiuage of a murder done in Vienna : 
 Gonzatjo is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: 
 you siwil see Hiion ; 'tis a kna\ish piece of work : 
 But wiiai of tiiat? your ni:i.jesty, and we that have 
 free souls, it toiulies >is not: Let the galled jade 
 wiuce,our ivithets ave unwrung. — 
 
 Enter Ll'cianus. 
 Thin is one Luciamis, nephew to the king. 
 Op/i. Von are as jjood as a chorus, uiy lord. 
 Ham. I could interpret between you and your 
 Jove, il' I could see the puppets dallying:. 
 Opk. Vou are keen, my lord, you are keen. 
 Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off 
 wy eilkce. 
 
 Oph Still better, and worse. 
 Ham. So yiiu mistake your husbands. — Begin, 
 murderer; — leave thy damnable faees, and begin. 
 Come ; — 
 
 The croaking raven 
 
 Doth bellow fur re\enge. 
 Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and 
 tiirie agreeing; 
 Confederate season, else no creature seeing ; 
 7')ioii niixttire rank, of midnight weeds collected, 
 With Hecat's ban tJirice blasted, thrice infected, 
 Thy natural magic and dire property. 
 On wholesome life usurp inimediatelv. 
 
 (Pours t/ie puisun into the Sleeper's ears.) 
 Ham. He poisons hini i'the garden for his estate. 
 Mis name's Gonzago ; the story is extant, and 
 written in very choice Italian: You shall see anon, 
 how the mtirderer ^ets the love of Gonzago's wife. 
 Onk. The king rises. 
 Him. What ! frighted with false fire ! 
 Queen, How fares my lord ? 
 Pol. Gi\e o'er the play. 
 King. Give me some light: — away! 
 Pol. Lights, lights, lights ! 
 
 [Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horalio. 
 Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, 
 The hart ungalled play 
 Forsiime must watch, while: some must sleep; 
 Thus nins the world away. — 
 Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the 
 rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me,) with two 
 Provenciul roses on my razed shoes, get me a fel- 
 {owship in a cry of players, sir? 
 Hor. Haifa share. 
 Ham. .\ whole one L 
 
 For tliou dost know, O Damon dear, 
 
 This realm dismantled was 
 Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
 A very, very — peacock. 
 Hor. You might have rhymed. 
 Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word 
 for a thousand |iouod. Didst perceive? 
 Hor. Very \seU, my lord. 
 Ham. Uj)on the talk of the poisoning, — 
 Hor. I did very well note him. 
 Ham. Ah, ha! — Come, some music; come, the 
 recorders. — 
 
 For if the king like not the comedy. 
 Why tiien, belike, — he likes it not, perdy. 
 Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 Come, some music. 
 
 GuU 'iood my lord,vouchsafe me a word with you. 
 
 Ham. Sir, a whole history. 
 Quil. The king, sir, — 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, what of him ? [pere'I 
 
 Hull. Is, in his retirement, marveilons (Us^m 
 
 Cam. With drink, sir? 
 
 Gttil. No, my lord, with choler. 
 
 Ham. Your wisdom should shew itself more 
 richer, to signify this to the doctor ; for, for me to 
 put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge 
 him into more choler. 
 
 Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some 
 frame, and start not so wildly from my affair. 
 
 Ham. I am tame, sir : — pronounce. 
 
 Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great 
 affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. 
 
 Ham. Vou are welcome. 
 
 Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of 
 the right breed. If it shall please you to make me 
 a wholesome answer, 1 will do your mother's com- 
 mandment : if not. your pardon, and my return, shall 
 be the end of my business. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I caimot. 
 
 Guil. What, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Make you a wholesome answer ; my wit's 
 diseased: But, sir, such answer as 1 can make, you 
 shall Command : or, rather, as you say, my mother: 
 therefore no more, but to the matter : My mother, 
 you say. — 
 
 Ros. Then, thus she says : Your behaviour hath 
 struck her into amazement and admiration. 
 
 Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a 
 mother ! — But is there no sequel at the'heels of this 
 mother's admiration ? impart. 
 
 Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, 
 ere you go to bed. 
 
 Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our 
 mother. Have you any further trade with US'* 
 
 Ros. My lord, you once did love me. 
 
 Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers. 
 
 Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of dis- 
 temper? you do, surely, but bar the door upon your 
 own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your t'rieiid. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. 
 
 Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice 
 of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? 
 
 Ham. Ay, sir, but. While the grass grows, — the 
 proverb is something musty. 
 
 Enter the Players, with Recorders. 
 O, the recorders: — let me see one. — To withdraw 
 with you. — Why do you go about to recover tlie 
 wind of me, as it you would drive me into a (oil ? 
 
 Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my 
 love is too unmannerly. 
 
 Ham. I do not well understand (hat. W ill you 
 play upon this pipe ? 
 
 Guil. My lord, I cannot 
 
 Ham. I pray you. 
 
 Guil. Believe me, I cannot. - 
 
 Ham. I do beseech you. 
 
 Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. 
 
 Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying : govern these ven- 
 tages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath 
 with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent 
 music. Look you, these are the stops. 
 
 Guil. But these cannot I command to any utter- 
 ance of harmony ; I have not the skill. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a 
 thing you make of me. You would play upon me; 
 you would seem to know my stops; you would 
 pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would 
 sound me from my lowest note to the top of my 
 compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, 
 in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 
 'Sblood, do you think, I am easier to be played on 
 thati a pipe ? Call iiie what inslruiiient you will, 
 though you can fret me, you cannot play upon lue. 
 
 Enter Polonihs. 
 God bless you, sir I 
 
758 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Pol. My lord, the queen would speak, with you, | 
 and presently. [ 
 
 Ham. Do yoii see yonder cloud, that's almost in 
 shape of a camel ? 
 
 Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. 
 
 Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel. 
 
 Pol. It is backed like a weasel. 
 
 Ham. Or, like a whale ? 
 
 PoL' 'Yery like a whale 
 
 Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by. 
 —They fool me to the top of ray bent. — I will come 
 by and by. 
 
 Pol. I will say so. [Exit Polonius. 
 
 Hatn. By and by is easily said. — Leave me, 
 friends. [Exeunt Ros. Guil. Hor. §Cc, : 
 
 Tis now the very witching time of night ; | 
 
 When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes | 
 out [blood, j 
 
 Contagion to this world : Now could I drink hot i 
 And do such business as the bitter day | 
 
 Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my n)0- i 
 ther.— i 
 
 O, heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever i 
 
 The soul of Nero enter this tirra bosom : ! 
 
 Let me be cruel, not unnatural : j 
 
 1 will speak daggers to her, but use none ; 
 My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites : 
 How iu my words soever she be shent, 
 To give them seals, never, my soul, consent! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ScF.NE III. — A Room in the same. 
 
 Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. 
 
 King. I like him not ; nor stands it safe with us. 
 To let his madness range. Tlierefore, prepare you; 
 I your commission will forthwith despatch, 
 * And he to England shall along with you : 
 The terms of our estate may not enaure 
 Hasard so near us, as doth hourly grow 
 Out of his lanes. 
 
 Guil. VVe will ourselves provide: 
 
 Most holy and religious fear it is. 
 To keep those many many bodies safe. 
 That live, and feed, upon your majesty. 
 
 Rus. The single and peculiar life is bound. 
 With all the strength and armour of the mind. 
 To keep itself from 'noyance ; but much more 
 That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest 
 The lives of many. The cease ol majesty 
 Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
 What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel, 
 Fix'd on the summit of tlie highest mount. 
 To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things 
 Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls. 
 Each small annexment, petty consequence. 
 Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone 
 Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. 
 
 King. Arm you, 1 pray you, to tliis speedy voyage ; 
 For we will fetters put upon this fear. 
 Which now goes too free-footed. 
 
 Ros. Guil. VVe will haste us. 
 
 [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 Enter Polonius. 
 
 Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet : 
 Behind the arras 111 convey myself, 
 To hear the process; I'll warrant, she'll tax him 
 
 home : 
 And, as you said, and w isely was it said, 
 'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother, 
 Since nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear 
 The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my liege : 
 I'll call upon you ere you go to bed. 
 And tell you what I know. 
 
 King. Thanks, dear my lord. 
 
 [Exit Polonius. 
 O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven.; 
 It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, 
 A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not. 
 Though inclination be as sharp as will ; 
 
 My stronger guilt defeats my stroii!^ intent; 
 
 And, like a man to double business bound, 
 
 I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
 
 And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
 
 Were tliicker than itself with brother's blood? 
 
 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, 
 
 To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mWfy, 
 
 But to confront the visage of otfence ? 
 
 And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, — 
 
 To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 
 
 Orpardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; 
 
 My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer 
 
 Can serve ray turn? Forgive me my foul murder!— 
 
 That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 
 
 Of those effects for which I did the murder? 
 
 My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
 
 May one be pardon'd, and retain the oiVence ? 
 
 In the corrupted currents of this world, 
 
 Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; 
 
 And oft 'tis seen, the wicked priae itself 
 
 Buys out the law : But 'tis not so above : 
 
 There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
 
 In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd. 
 
 Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults. 
 
 To give in evidence. What then? what rests ? 
 
 Try what repentance can : What can it not ? 
 
 Yet what can it, when one can not repent ? 
 
 O wretched state ! O bosom, black as death ! 
 
 O limed soul, that, struggling to be free. 
 
 Art more engag'd 1 Help, angels, make assay ! 
 
 Bow, stubborn knees I and, heart, with strings of 
 
 steel. 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! — 
 All may be well! {Retires, and kneels.) 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ha7n. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying; 
 And now I'll do't ; — and so he goes to heaven : 
 And so .am I reveng'd? That would be scannd : 
 A villain kills my father; and, for that, 
 I, his sole son, uo this same villain send 
 To heaven. 
 
 Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge. 
 He took my father grossly, full of bread ; 
 With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May ; 
 And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven ? 
 But, in our circumstance and course of thought, 
 'Tis heavy with him : And am I then reveng'd. 
 To take him in the purging of his soul, 
 When he is fit and season'd for liis passage ? 
 No. 
 
 Up, sword ; and know thon a more honrid hent: 
 When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage; 
 Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ; 
 At gaming, swearing ; or about some act 
 That has no relish of salvation in't: 
 Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven : 
 And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black, , 
 I As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: 
 This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. [Exit. 
 
 T/ie King rises, and advances. 
 
 King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain 
 below: 
 Words, without thought, never to heaven go. [Exii. 
 
 Scene IV. — Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter Queen and Polonius. 
 
 Pol. He will come straight. Look you, lay home 
 to him ; 
 Tell him, bis pranks have been too broad to beai 
 with : [tween 
 
 And that your grace hath screen'd and stood b©- 
 Mucii heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here. 
 Pray you, be round with him. 
 
 Queen. I'll warrant yon; 
 
 Fear me not ; — withdraw, I hear him coming. 
 
 (Polonius hides niuutlf.) 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 759 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Now, mother ; what's the matter ? 
 
 Queen. Hamlet, thoii hast thy father much of- 
 fended. 
 
 Hnm. Mother, you have my father much offended. 
 
 Qu«en. Come, come, you answer with an idle 
 tongue. 
 
 Ham. Go, jco, you question with a wicked tongue. 
 
 Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? 
 
 Ham. What's the matter now? 
 
 Queen. Have you forgot me ? 
 
 Ham. No, by the rood, not so : 
 
 You are the queen, your husband's brother's wile ; 
 And, — 'would it were not so I — jou are my mother. 
 
 Queetu Nay, then I'll set those to you that can 
 speak. [not budge ; 
 
 Ham. Come, come, and sit you down ; you shall 
 Vou go r,ot, till I set you up a glass. 
 Where yoa may see the inmost part of yon. 
 
 Queen. What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not murder 
 Help, help, ho ! [me? 
 
 Pol. {Behind.) What, ho! help! 
 
 Ham. How now! a rat? {Draws.) 
 
 Dead, for a ducat, dead. 
 
 (Ham/el makes a pass throirgh the Arras.] 
 
 Pol. (Behind.) O, I am slain. {Falls and dies.) 
 
 Queen. O me, what hast thou done ? 
 
 Ham. Nay, I know not : 
 
 Esit the king? 
 {Lifts up ike Arras, and draws forth Polonius.) 
 
 Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this ! 
 
 Ham. A bloody deed ; — almost as bad, good 
 mother. 
 As kill a king, and marry with his brother. 
 
 Queen. As kill a king 1 
 
 Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word. — 
 
 Thou wretched, rash, intruding tool, farewell ! 
 
 ( To Polonius.) 
 I took thee for thy better ; take thy fortune: 
 Thou (ind'st, to be too busy, is some danger. — 
 Leave wringing oi your hands : Peace ; sit yoa 
 
 down, 
 And let me wring your heart: for so I shall. 
 If it be made of penetrable stuff; 
 If damned custom hath not braz'd it so, 
 That it be proof and bulwark against sense. 
 
 Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag 
 thy tongue 
 !n noise so rude against me? 
 
 Ham. Such an act, 
 
 That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ; 
 Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
 And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows 
 As false as dicers' oaths : O, such a deed 
 As from the body of contraction plucks 
 The very soul ; and sweet religion makes 
 A rhapsody ol woids : Heaven's face doth glow; 
 Yea, this solidity and compound mass. 
 With tristful visage, as against the dooni. 
 Is thought-sick at the act. 
 
 Quee?i. Ah me, what act. 
 
 That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ? 
 
 Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; 
 The counterfeit presentment ot two brothers. 
 See, what a grace was seated on this brow : 
 Hyperion's cuils ; the front of Jove himself; 
 An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
 A station like the herald Mercury, * 
 New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
 A combination, and a form, indeed, 
 'Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
 To give the world assurance of a man : [follows. 
 This was your husband. — Look you now what 
 Here is your husband; like a mildew'd car. 
 Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
 Could you on this fair moniifain leave to feed, 
 And batten on this moor'' Ha! have you eyes? 
 You cauuol call it, love: for at yuur age, 
 
 was't 
 
 The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble. 
 And waits upon the judgment ; and what judgment 
 Would step from this to this ? Sense, sure, you have. 
 Else could you not have motion : But. sure, that sense 
 Is apoplex'd : for madm-ss would not err; 
 Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd, 
 But it reserv'd some quantity of choice. 
 
 To serve in such a difference. What dev>! 
 
 That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? 
 
 Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight. 
 
 Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all. 
 
 Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
 
 Could not so mope. 
 
 Crshanie ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell. 
 
 If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones. 
 
 To flaming youth let virtue be as wax. 
 
 And melt in her own fire ; proclaim no shame. 
 
 When the compulsive ardour gives the charge; 
 
 Since frost itself as actively doth burn 
 
 And reason panders will. 
 
 Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more : 
 
 Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; 
 And there I see such black and grained spots. 
 As will not leave their tinct. 
 
 Ham. Nay, but to live 
 
 In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed ; 
 Stew'd in corruption ; honeying, and making love 
 Over the nasty stye ; — 
 
 Queen. O, speak to me no more ; 
 
 These words, like daggers, entfer in mine ears ; 
 No more, sweet Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. A murderer, and a villain: 
 
 A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe 
 Of your precedent lord : — a vice of kings : 
 A cutpurse of the empire and the rule ; 
 That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
 And put it in his pocket ! 
 
 Queen. No more. 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 
 Ham. A king 
 
 Of shreds and patches : — 
 Save rae, and hover o'er me with your wings 
 You heavenly guards! — What would your gn 
 figure ? 
 
 Queen. Alas ! he's mad. 
 
 Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide. 
 That, laps'd in time and passion, let's go by 
 The important acting of your dread command? 
 O, say ! 
 
 Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation 
 Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
 Bui, look ! amazement on thy mother sits: 
 O, step between her and her fighting soul ; 
 Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works ; 
 Speak to her, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. How is it with you, lady ? 
 
 Queen. Alas, how is't with you ? 
 That you do bend your eye on vacancy. 
 And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? 
 Forth at your eyes' your spirits wildly peep; 
 And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm. 
 Your bedded hair, like life in excrements. 
 Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son. 
 Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
 Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look ! 
 
 Hatn. On him \ on him ! — Look you, how pale 
 he glares ! 
 His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones. 
 Would m;ike them capable.— Do not look upon me; 
 Lest with this piteous action, you convert 
 My stern eftects: then what I have 'to do 
 
 ill want true colour ; tears, perchance, for blood. 
 
 Queen, To whom do you apeak this ? 
 
 Ham. Do you see nothing there ? 
 
 Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see. 
 
 Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 
 
 Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you there ! look, huw it steals 
 
 • graciotis 
 
 My 
 Wil 
 
 away 
 
V60 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act TV. 
 
 My father, in liis liabit as he liv'd ; 
 Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal ! 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : 
 This bodiless creation ecstasy 
 Is very cunning in. g 
 
 Ham. Ecstasy ! 
 My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, 
 And makes as healthful music : It is not madness, 
 That I have utler'd : bring me to the test, 
 And I the matter will re-word : which madness 
 Wauld gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, 
 Lay not that flattering unction to yolir soul. 
 That not your trespass, but my madness, speaks? 
 It will but skin and fllni the ulcerous place ; 
 Whiles rank corruption, mining all within. 
 Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
 Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; 
 And do not spread the compost on the weeds. 
 To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue : 
 For in the fatness of these pursy times, 
 Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg; 
 Yea, curb and woo, ibr leave to do nim good. 
 
 Queen. O Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in 
 twain. 
 
 Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
 And live the purer with the other half. 
 Good night : but go not to my uncle's bed ; 
 Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
 That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat 
 Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this; 
 That to the use of actions fair and good 
 He likewise gives a frock, or livery, 
 That aptly is put on : Refrain to-night: 
 And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
 To the next abstinence : the next more easy : 
 For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
 And either cuib the devil, or throw him out 
 With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; 
 And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
 I'll blessing beg of you. — For this same lord, 
 
 [Pointina to Polonius.) 
 I do repent : But heaven hath pleas'di it so, — 
 To punish me with this, and this with me. 
 That I must be their scourge and minister. 
 I will bestow him, and will answer well 
 The death I gave him. So, again, good night ! — 
 I must be cruel, only to be kind : 
 Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
 But one word more, good lady. 
 
 Queen. What shall I do ? 
 
 Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do : 
 Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed : 
 Pinch wanton on your cheek : call you, his mouse ; 
 And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, 
 Or paddling in your neck with his daran'd fingers. 
 Make you to ravel all this matter out. 
 That I essentially am not in ntadness. 
 But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know : 
 For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise. 
 Would from a | addock, from a bat, a gib. 
 Such dear concernings hide ? who would do so ? 
 No, in despite of sense and secrecy. 
 Unpeg the basket on the houses top, 
 Let the birds fly ; and, like the famous ape. 
 To fry conclusions, in the basket creep. 
 And break your own neck down. [breath, 
 
 Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of 
 And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
 What thou hast said to me. 
 
 Ham. 1 must to England ; you know that ? 
 
 Queen. Alack, 
 
 I had forgot ; 'tis so concluded on. 
 
 Ham. There's letters seal'd : and my two school- 
 fellows, — 
 Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd, — 
 They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way. 
 And iiiarslial me to knavery; Let it work; 
 For 'tis tlie sport, to have the engineer 
 lioisi with his own petar : and it shall go hard. 
 
 But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
 And blow them at the moon : O, 'tis most swec^ 
 When in one line two crafts directly meet. — 
 This man shall set me packing. 
 I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room : 
 Mother, good night. — Indeed, this counsellor 
 Is now most still, most secret, and most grave. 
 Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 
 Come, sir, to draw toward an end with yjii: 
 Good night, mother. 
 
 [Exeunt severally ; Hamlet dragging isi, 
 Poloniu.i. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 ScENB I. — Tke same. 
 Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, and 
 
 GUILDENSTERN. 
 
 King. There's matter in these sighs ; these pro- 
 found heaves 
 You must translate ; 'tis fit we understand them : 
 Where is your sou :* 
 
 Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. — 
 {To Rosencrantz and Guildenstem, tv/io go out,} 
 Ah. my good lord, what have I seen to-iiiylit ! 
 
 King. What, Gertrude ? How does Hamlet ? 
 
 Queen. Mad as the sea, and wind, when both cob 
 tend 
 Which is the mightier : In his lawless fit, 
 Behind the arras hearing something stir, 
 Whips out bis rapier, cries, A rat! a rat! 
 And, iu thi'j brainish apprehension, kills 
 'I'he unseen good old man. 
 
 King. O heavy deed ! 
 
 It had been so with us, had we been tliere : 
 His liberty is full of threats to all ; 
 To you yourself, to us, to every one. 
 Alas! how shall this bloody deed be ansvver'd? 
 It will be laid to us, whose providence 
 Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt. 
 This mad young man : but, so much wasour love. 
 We would not understand what was ntost fit; 
 But, like the owner of a foul disease. 
 To keep it from divulging, let it feed. 
 Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? 
 
 Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd : 
 O'er whom his very madness, like some ore. 
 Among a mineral of metals base, 
 Shews itself pure ; he weeps for what is done 
 
 King. O, Gertrude, come away ! 
 The sun no sooner shall the mountains tonoh, 
 But we will ship him hence : and this vile deed 
 We must, with all our majesty and skill, 
 Both countenance and excuse. — Ho; Guildenstern! 
 
 Enter ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. 
 
 Friends both, go join you with some further aid : 
 Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain. 
 And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him : 
 Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body 
 Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and Guii. 
 Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends ; 
 .\nd let them know, both what we mean to do. 
 And what's untimely done: so, haply, slander^ 
 Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter. 
 As level as the cannon to his blank, 
 Transports his poison'd shot, — may miss our name. 
 And hit the womidless air. — O come away ! 
 My soul is full of discord, and dismay. [Exeuni, 
 
 Scene II. — AnotherRoom in the House, 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 Ha7n. Safely stowd, — [Ros. ^c. within. Harrj- 
 let! lord Hamlet!) But soit,— what noise? who 
 calls on H. unlet '? O, here they come. 
 
 Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 
 
 Ros. What have you dune, my \ord > "itli *iie 
 dead body '' 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 761 
 
 Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. 
 
 Has. Tell us where 'tis ; that we may take it thence, 
 And bear it to the chapel. 
 
 Ham. Do not believe it. 
 
 }ios. B<'lieve what? 
 
 Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not 
 mine own. Besides, to be demanded ot a sponge ! 
 — what replication should be made by the son of a 
 kin£r :* 
 
 Jtos, Take you me for a sponge, my lord? 
 
 Ham. Av, sir; that soaks up the king's counte- 
 nance, his rewards, his authonties. But such offi- 
 cers do the king best service in the end : He keeps 
 them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw ; first 
 mouthed, to be last swallowed : When he needs 
 what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, 
 spon^fe, vou shall be dry again. 
 
 Ros. I understand you not, my lord. 
 
 Ham, I a.ii glad of it : A knavish speech sleeps 
 in a foolish ear. 
 
 Ro-i. My lord, you must tell us where the body 
 is, and go with us to the king. 
 
 Ham. 'J'he body is with the king, but the king is 
 not with the body. The king is a thing — 
 
 GuiL A thing, my lord V 
 
 Ham. Of nothing : bring me to him. Hide fox, 
 and all after. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Another Room in the same. 
 
 Enter King, attended. 
 
 King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the 
 body. 
 How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose ? 
 Yet must not we put the strong law on him : 
 He's lov'd of the distracted multitude. 
 Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes ; 
 And, where 'tis so, the oftender's scourge is weigh 'd, 
 But never the offence. To bear all .smooth and even, 
 'I'his sudden sending him away must seem 
 Deliberate pause : Diseases, desperate grown. 
 By desperate appliance are reliev'd, 
 
 Enter Rosen CRANTZ. 
 
 Or not at all. — How now ? what hath befallen ? 
 
 Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lords, 
 We cannot get from him. 
 
 King. But where is he ? 
 
 Ros. Without, my lord ; guarded, to know your 
 pleasure. 
 
 King. Bring him before us. 
 
 Ros. Ho, Guildenstern ! bring in my lord. 
 
 Ejiter Hamlet and Guildenstern. 
 
 King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? 
 
 Ham. At supper. 
 
 King. At supper? where ? 
 
 Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten ; 
 a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at 
 him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet : 
 we fat all creatures else, to fat us; and we fat our- 
 selves for maggots : Your fat king, and your lean 
 beggar, is but variable service ; two dishes, but to 
 one table ; that's the end. 
 
 King. Alas ! alas ! 
 
 Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath 
 eat of a king ; and eat of the fish that hath fed of 
 that worm. 
 
 King. What dost thou mean by this? 
 
 Ham. Nothing, but to shew you how a king may 
 go a progress throuah ttie guts of a beggar. 
 
 King. Where is Polonius? 
 
 Ham. In heaven ; send thither to see : if your 
 messenger fiad him not there, seek him i'llie other 
 place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not 
 within tiiis montli, you shall nose him as you go up 
 the stairs into the lobby. 
 
 King. Go seek him there. (To some Attendants.) 
 
 Ham. He will stay till you C'^uie. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial 
 safety, — 
 Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve 
 For that which thou hast done, — mustsend thee hence 
 With fiery quickness : Therefore, prepare thyself; 
 fl'he bark is ready, and the wind at help, 
 I'he associates tend, and every thing is bent 
 For England. 
 
 Ham. For England ? 
 
 King. Ay, Hamlet 
 
 Ham. Goocl. 
 
 King. So is it, if thon knew'st our purposes. 
 
 Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them. — Bat, come ; 
 for England ! — Farewell, dear mother. 
 
 King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. My mother; Father and mother is maD 
 and wife ; man and wife is one flesh ; and so, my 
 mother. Come, for England. [Exit. 
 
 King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed 
 aboard ; 
 Delay it not, I'll have him hence to-night : 
 Away : for every thing is seal'd and done 
 That else leans on the affair: Pray you, make haste. 
 
 [Exeunt Ros. and GuiL 
 And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught, 
 {\s my great power thereof may give thee sense ; 
 Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
 After the Danish sword, and thy free awe 
 Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly set 
 Our sovereign process; which imports at full, 
 By letters conjuring to that effect, 
 The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ; 
 For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
 And thou must cure me : Till I know tis done, 
 Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin. [ExiL 
 
 Scene IV. — A Plain in Demnark. 
 Enter Fortinbras, and Forces, marching. 
 For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king ; 
 Tell him, that, by his licence, Fortinbras 
 Craves the conveyance of a proniis'd march 
 Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. 
 If that his majesty would aught with ns. 
 We shall express our duty in his eye, 
 And let him know so. 
 
 Cap. I will do't, my lord. 
 
 For. Go softly on. 
 
 [Exeunt Fortinbras and Forces. 
 
 Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, 
 Guildenstern, ^c. 
 
 Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these ? 
 
 Cap. They are of Norway, sir. 
 
 Ham. How pnrpos'd, sir, 
 
 I pray you ? 
 
 Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
 
 Ham. Who 
 
 Commands them, sir ? 
 
 Cap. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. 
 
 Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir. 
 Or for some frontier ? 
 
 Cap. Tridy to speak, sir, and with no addition 
 We go to gain a little patch of ground, 
 That hath in it no profit but the name. 
 To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; 
 Nor will it yield to Norway, or the Pole, 
 A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 
 
 Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. 
 
 Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrison'd. [ducats. 
 
 Ham. Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand 
 Will not debate the question of this straw: 
 This is the ii(i|iosthume of nuich wealth and peace; 
 That inward breaks, and shews no canse without 
 Why tiie man dies. — I humbly thank you, sir. 
 
 Cap. God be wi' you, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Ros. VVill't please you go, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. I will be with you straight. Go a little 
 be lore. [Exetint Ros. and GuiL 
 
 How all occasions do inform agamst me. 
 And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man. 
 
762 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 f f his cliief good, and market of his time, 
 
 Be but to sleep, and feed ? a beast, no more. 
 
 Sure, he, that innde us with such large discourse, 
 
 Looking before, and after, gave us not 
 
 That capabihty and godlike reason 
 
 To fust iu us unus'd. Now, vvhether it be . 
 
 Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple 
 
 Of thinking too precisely on the eveut, — 
 
 A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part 
 
 wisdom. 
 And, ever, three parts coward. — I do not know 
 Why yet 1 live to say, This thing's to do; 
 Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means, 
 To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me : 
 Witness, this army of such mass, and charge. 
 Led by a delicate and tender prince; 
 Whose s|)irit, with divine ambition piifF'd, 
 Makes months at the invisible e\ent; 
 Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, 
 To all tiiat fortune, death, nnd danger dare. 
 Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great, 
 Is, not to stir without great argument; 
 But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, 
 When honour's at the stake. How stand I then. 
 That have a father kill'd, a mother sti^iu'd. 
 Excitements of my reason, and my blooi), 
 And let all sleep i* while, to my shame, I see 
 The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
 That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame. 
 Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot 
 Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, 
 Which is not tomb enough, and continent, 
 To hide the slain? — O, from this time forth, 
 My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene V. — Elsinore. A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Queen and Horatio. 
 
 Queen. — I will not speak with her. 
 
 Hor. She is importunate; indeed, distract; 
 Her mood will needs be pitied. 
 
 Queen. What would she have ? 
 
 Hor. She speaks much of her father ; says, she 
 hears, [heart ; 
 
 There's tricks i'the world ; and hems, and beats her 
 Spurns enviously at straws ; speaks things in doubt. 
 That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing. 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection; they aim at it. 
 And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts ; 
 Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield 
 
 them. 
 Indeed wonid make one think, there might be 
 
 thonglit, 
 Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. 
 
 Queen., 'Twere good she were spoken with ; for 
 she may strew 
 Dangeron.s conjectures in ill-breeding minds ; 
 Let her come in. [Exit Horatio. 
 
 To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is. 
 Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss : 
 So full of artless jealousy is guilt. 
 It spills itself in I'earing to be spilt. 
 
 Re-enter Horatio, ivith Ophelia. 
 Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of Den- 
 Queen. How now. Ophelia? (mark? 
 
 Oph. How should I your true love know {Sings.) 
 From mtot/ier one? 
 By his cockle hat andsfnff, 
 And his sandal shoon ! 
 Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song ? 
 Oph. Say yon '> nay, pray you. mark. 
 
 He is dead and gone, lady, (Sings.) 
 
 He is dead and gone ; 
 At his head a grass-green turf, 
 At his heels a stone. 
 O.ho! 
 
 Queen. Nay, but Ophelia,— 
 
 (^ph. Pray yon, mark. 
 
 White his shroud as the mountain snow, [Sings.) 
 
 Enter King. 
 Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
 Oph. Larded all toith sweet JloKsrs ; 
 TVhich beivept to the grave did i/o, 
 With true love shoivers. 
 King. How do you, pretty lady ? 
 Oph. Well, God'ield you ! They say, the owl 
 was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we 
 are, but know not what we may be. God be at 
 your table ! 
 
 King. Conceit upon her father. 
 Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this ; but 
 when they ask you what it means, say you this : 
 
 Good tnorroiv, 'tis Saint Valentine's day, 
 
 All in the morning betime, 
 And la maid at your window 
 To be your Valentine : 
 
 Then up he rose, and don'd his clothes, 
 
 And dupp'd the chamber door ; 
 Let in the maid, that out a maid 
 
 Never departed more. 
 King. Prettv Ophelia ! [on't : 
 
 Oph. Imleed, without an oath, I'll make an end 
 By Gis, and by saint Charity, 
 
 Alack, and fy for shame ! 
 Young men tci/l do't, if they come to't ; 
 
 By cock, they are to blame. 
 
 Quoth she, before you tumhled me, 
 \ ou promis' d me to iced: 
 (He answers.) 
 So ivoidd J ha' done, by yonder sun, 
 An thou hadst not come to my bed. 
 
 King. How long hatii she been thus ? 
 
 Oph. I hope, all will be well. We must be pa- 
 tient: but 1 cannot choose but weep, to tiiink, they 
 should lay him i'the cold ground : My brother sliall 
 know of it, and so I thank you for your good coun- 
 sel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good 
 night, sweet ladies ; good night, good night. [Exit. 
 
 King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I 
 pray you. [Exit Horatio. 
 
 O ! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs 
 All from her father's death : Arid now behold, 
 O Gertrude, Gertrude, 
 
 When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
 But in battalions ! First, her father slain ; 
 Next, your son gone ; and he most violent author 
 Of his own just remove : The people muddied. 
 Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and 
 whispers, (greenly. 
 
 For good Polonius' death ; and we have done but 
 In hugger-mugger to inter him : Poor Ophelia 
 Divided from lierself, and her fair judgment: 
 Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts. 
 Last, and as much containing as all these. 
 Her brother is in secret come from France; 
 Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds. 
 And wants not buzzers to infect his ear 
 With pestilent speeches of his father's death; 
 Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, 
 \Vill nothing stick our person to arraign 
 In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, thi.s. 
 Like to a murdering piece, in many places 
 Gives me superfluous death. [A noise withiji.) 
 
 Queen. Alack I what noise is this .'' 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 King. Attend : 
 Where are my Switzers ? Let them guard the door : 
 What is the matter? 
 
 Gent. Save yourself, /ny lord; 
 
 The ocean, overpeering of his list, 
 Eats not the Hats with more impetuous hasie. 
 Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, 
 O'erbears yourolliceis ! The rabble call him, lord ; 
 And. as the world were now but to begin. 
 Antiquity for;;ot. custom not known, 
 The ratifiers and props of every word, 
 'I'liey cry. Choose we ; Laertes shall be king I 
 Caps, hainis, a, id tongues, applaud it to the clouds. 
 
Scene 6. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 763 
 
 Lrtertes shall be king, Laertes king ! 
 
 (^uei'n. How cheerfully on.tlie false trail they cry I 
 O, ttll^' is counter, you false Danish dos;s. 
 
 Kmg. The doors are broke. [Noise within.) 
 
 Enter Laertes, armed; Danes following. 
 
 Laer. Where is this king ? — Sirs, stand you all 
 
 Dan. No, let's come in. [without. 
 
 Laer. I pray you, give me leave. 
 
 Dan. We will, we will. 
 
 {They retire ivithout the door.) 
 
 Laer. 1 thank you ; — keep the door. — O tiiou vile 
 Give me my father. [king, 
 
 Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. 
 
 Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims 
 me bastard ; 
 Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the harlot 
 Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow 
 Of my true mother. 
 
 King. What is the cause, Laertes, 
 
 That (ny rebellion looks so giant like? — 
 Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ; 
 There's such divinity doth hedse a king 
 That treason can but peep to what it would. 
 Acts little of his will. — Tell me, Lai-rtes, 
 Why thou art thus incens'd ? — Let him go, Ger- 
 Speak, man. [trude • — 
 
 Laer. VVhere is my father? 
 
 King. Dead. 
 
 Queen. But not by him. 
 
 King. Let him demand his fill. [with : 
 
 Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled 
 To hell, allegiance ! ^ows, to the blackest devil ! 
 Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit ! 
 I dare damnation : To this point I stand, — 
 That both the worlds I give to negligence. 
 Let come what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd 
 Most throughly for my father. 
 
 King. Who shall stay you ? 
 
 Laer. My will, not all the world's : 
 And, for my means, I'll husband them so well 
 They shall go far with little. 
 
 King. Good Laertes, 
 
 If you desire to know the certainty 
 Of your dear father's death, it's writ in your revenge, 
 'i'hat, sweepstake, you will draw both iriend and foe. 
 Winner and loser': 
 
 Laer. None but his enemies. 
 
 King. Will you know them then ? 
 
 Laer. To his 'good friends thus wide I'll ope my 
 arms ; 
 And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, 
 Rei ast them with my blood. 
 
 King. VVhy, now you speak 
 
 Like a good child, and a true gentleman. 
 That I am guiltless of your father's death, 
 And am most sensibly in grief for it. 
 It shall as level to your judgment 'pear, 
 As day does to your eye. 
 
 Danes. (Within.) Let her come in. 
 
 Laer. How now ! what noise is that ? 
 
 Enl-erOviVEXAk, fantastically dressed with straws 
 and Jlowers. 
 
 heat, dry up my brains ! tears, seven times salt, 
 Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye ! — 
 By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with weight 
 Till our scale turn the bea-m. O rose of May ! 
 Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! — 
 O htavens ! is't possible, a young maid's wits 
 Should he as mortal as an old man's life? 
 Nature is fine in love : and, where 'tis fine, 
 It sends some precious instance of itself 
 After the thing it loves. 
 
 Oph. They bore him barefaced on the bier ; 
 Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny : 
 And in his grave rain'd many a tear ; — 
 Fare you well, my dove ! [revenge, 
 
 Laer. Hadst thi>ii thy wits, and didst persuade 
 It could not move thus. 
 
 Oph. You must sing, Dotvn a-down, an you call 
 him a-down a. O, how the w heel becomes it ! It 
 is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. 
 Laer. This nothing's more than matter. 
 Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; 
 pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies. 
 -that's for thoughts. 
 
 Laer. A document in madness; thoughts and 
 remembrance fitted. 
 
 Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines : — 
 there's rue for you ; and here's some forme: — we 
 may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays : — you may 
 wear your rue with a diflerence.— There's a daisy,: 
 — I would give you some violets; but they withered 
 all, when my father died : They say, he made a 
 good end, — 
 
 For bonny stveet Robin is all my joy, (Sinqs.) 
 Laer. 'rhought and affliction, passion, hell itse'lf, 
 She turns to favour, and to prettiness. 
 
 Oph. And will he not come again ? [Sings. ) 
 And will he not cotne again ? 
 No, no. he is dead, 
 Go to thy death bed. 
 He 7iever will come again. 
 
 His beard was as white as snow. 
 All flaxen was his poll : 
 He is gone, he is gone, 
 And we cast away moan; 
 God 'a, mercy on his soul ! 
 And of all christian souls! I pray God. God be 
 « i' you ! [Exit Ophelia. 
 
 Laer. Do you see this, O God ! 
 King. Laertes, I mustcomraime with your grief. 
 Or you deny me right. Go but apart, 
 Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will. 
 And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me : 
 If by direct or by collateral hand 
 They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give. 
 Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours. 
 To you in satisfaction ; but, if not. 
 Be you cont(*nt to lend your patience to ns. 
 And vve shall jointly labour with your soul, 
 To give it due content. 
 
 Laer. Let this be so; 
 
 His means of death, his obscure funeral, — 
 No trophy, sword, nor hatchment, o'er his bones, 
 No noble rite, nor formal ostentation, — 
 Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, 
 'I'hat I must call't in question. 
 
 King. So you shall ; 
 
 And, where the oflTence is, let the great axe fall. 
 I pray you, go with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter Horatio, and a Servant. 
 Hor. What are they, that would speak with me ? 
 Serv. Sailors, sir; 
 
 They say, they have letters for you. 
 
 Hor. Let them come in. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 I do not know from what part of the world 
 I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet 
 
 Enter Sailors, 
 
 1 Sail. God bless you, sir. 
 
 Hor. Let him bless thee too. 
 
 1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a 
 letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador 
 that was bound for England ; if your name be Ho- 
 ratio, as I am let to know it is 
 
 Hor. (Reads.) Horatio, lohen thou shall have 
 overlooked this, give these fellows some 7neans to 
 the king ; they have letters for him. Ere tve were 
 two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike ap- 
 pointment t/ave us chase: Finding ourselves too 
 slow of sail, we put on a comjiell'ed valour ; and 
 in the grapple I boarded them : on the instant, theu 
 got clear of our ship ; so I alone became their pri- 
 soner. They have dealt ivith me like thieves "/ 
 mercy ; but they knew what they did; I am to do 
 
764 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters 
 I have sent; and repair thou to me with as much 
 haste as thou woidd'stfly death. I have words to 
 speak in thine ear, tvili make thee dumb ; yet are 
 they much too light for the bore of the matter. 
 These good fellows will bring thee ivhere I am. 
 Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course 
 for England ; of them I have much to tell thee. 
 Farewell. 
 
 He that thou knotvest thine, Hamlet. 
 Come, I will give you way for these your letters ; 
 And do't the speedier, that you may direct me 
 To him, from whom you brought them. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. — Another Room in the same. 
 Enter King and Laertes. 
 
 King. Now must your conscience my acquit- 
 tance seal, 
 And you must put me in your heart for friend ; 
 Sith you have heard, and witli a knowiug ear. 
 That he, which hath your noble father slain, 
 Pursu'd my life. 
 
 Laer. It well appears : — But tell me. 
 
 Why you proceeded not against these feats. 
 So critnefui and so capital in nature, 
 As by your sai'ety, greatness, wisdom, all things 
 You mainly vvere stirr'd up. [else, 
 
 King. O, for two special reasons ; 
 
 Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd. 
 But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his 
 
 mother. 
 Lives almost by his looks ; and for myself, 
 (My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,) 
 She is so conjunctive to my life and soul, 
 That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
 I could not but by her. The other motive, 
 Why to a public count [ might not go. 
 Is, the great love tiie general gender bear him : 
 Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, 
 Work like tlie spring that tunieth wood to stone, 
 Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows, 
 Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, 
 IVoiild have reverted to mv buw again, 
 And not where I had aira'd t'lem. 
 
 Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; 
 A sister driven into desperate terms; 
 Whose worth, if praises may go back again. 
 Stood cliallenger on mount of all the age 
 For her perfections : But my revenge will come. 
 
 King. Break not your sleeps for that : you must 
 not think. 
 That we are made of stuff so flat and dull. 
 That we can let our beard be shook with danger, 
 And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more : 
 I loved your father, and we love ourself j 
 And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine, — 
 How novv? what news ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet : 
 
 This to your majesty ; this to the queen. 
 
 King. From Hamlet ! Who brought them ? 
 
 Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say : I saw them not ; 
 They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them 
 Ot nirn that brought tliem. 
 
 King. Laertes, you shall hear them : 
 
 Leave us. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 {Reads ) High and mighty, you shall know, I am 
 set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall 
 J beg leave to see your kingly eyes : when I shall, 
 first asking your pardo7i thereunto, recount the 
 occasion of my sudden and more strange returti. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 What should this mean ? Are all the rest come 
 
 back? 
 Oris it some ab'ise, and no such thing? 
 
 Laer. Know you the hand ? 
 
 Ring. 'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked, — 
 
 And. in a postscript here, he suyn, alone : 
 Can you advise me ? 
 
 Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let hita come ; 
 It warms the very sickness in my heart. 
 That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 
 Thus diddest thou. 
 
 King. If it be so, Laertes. 
 
 As how should it be so? how otherwise r— 
 Will you be rul'd by me ? 
 
 Laer. Ay, my lord ; 
 
 So y(ui will not o'er-nile me to a peace. 
 
 King. To thine own peace. If he be now »•• 
 turn'd, — 
 As checking at his voyage, and that he meano 
 No more to undertake it, — I will work him 
 To an exploit, now ripe in my device. 
 Under the which he shall not choose hut Aill : 
 And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe; 
 But even his mother shall uncharge the practice , 
 And call it, accident. 
 
 Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd. 
 
 The rather, if you could cfevise it so. 
 That I might be the organ. 
 
 King. It falls right. 
 
 You have been talk'd of since your travel much. 
 And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality 
 Wherein, thev say, you shine : your sum of parts 
 Did not together pluck such envy from him, 
 As did that one ; and that, in my regard. 
 Of the iin worthiest siege. 
 
 Laer. Wliat part is that, my lord ? 
 
 King. A very ribband in the cap of youth, _ 
 Yet needful too ; for youth no less becomes 
 The light and careless li\ ery that it wears. 
 Than settled age his sables, and his weeds, 
 Importing health and graveness. — Two months 
 
 since. 
 Here was a gentleman of Normandy, — 
 I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, 
 And they can well on horseback : but this gallant 
 Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat ; 
 And to such wond'rous doing brougiit his horse. 
 As he had been iiicorps'd and demi-natur'd 
 With the brave beast : so far he topp'd my thought, 
 That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks. 
 Come short of what he did. 
 
 Laer. A Norman, waa't? 
 
 King. A Norman. 
 
 Laer. Upon my life, Lamord. 
 
 King. The very same. 
 
 Laer. I know him well : he is the brooch, in- 
 And gem of all the nation. [deed. 
 
 King. He made confession of you ; 
 And gave you such a masterly report. 
 For art anu exercise in your defence, 
 And for your rapier most esjjecial, 
 That he cried out, 'twould oe a sight indeed. 
 If one could match you : the scrimers of their 
 
 nation. 
 He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye. 
 If you oppos'd tliein : Sir, this report of his 
 Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy, 
 Tliat he could nothing do, but wish anrl beg 
 Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. 
 Now, out of tills, — 
 
 Laer, What out of this, my lord ? 
 
 King. Laertes, was your father dear to you ■* 
 Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, 
 A face without a heart ? 
 
 Laer. Why ask you this ? 
 
 King. Not that I think, you did not love your 
 father; 
 But that I know, love is begun by time ; 
 And that I see, in passages of proof, 
 'I'ime qualities the spark and fire of it. 
 There lives witliiu tlie very flame of love 
 A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it; 
 And notliiiig is at a like goodness still' 
 For goodness, growing to a pleurisy. 
 Dies m his own too irtucli: 'riiat we would do. 
 We should do wlien \'.e would; lor this tcould 
 changes. 
 
Act V. Scene 1. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 76S 
 
 Ami hrith a atements and delays as many, 
 
 As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents ; 
 
 Aud then tins s/iould h like a sriendthrii't sigh, 
 
 That hurts by t- asing. But, to the quick o'the ulcer : 
 
 Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake. 
 
 To shew yourself indeed your fathers' son 
 
 More than in words ? 
 
 Laer. To cut his throat i'the church. 
 
 King. No place, indeed, should murder sanc- 
 tiianze ; 
 Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, 
 Will you do this, keep close witliin your chamber: 
 Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home : 
 We'll put on those shall praise your excellence. 
 And set a double varnish on the fame 
 The Frenchman gave you ; bring you, in fine, to- 
 gether. 
 And wager o'er your heads : he, being remiss. 
 Most generous, and free from all contriving, 
 Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease. 
 Or with a little shuffling, you may choose 
 A sword uubated, and, in a pass of practice. 
 Requite him for your father. 
 
 Laer. I will do't : 
 
 And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. - 
 I bought an unction of a mountebank, 
 So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it. 
 Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare. 
 Collected from all simples that have virtue 
 Under the moon, can save the thing from death. 
 That is but scratch'd withal : I'll touch' my point 
 With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slightly. 
 It may be death. 
 
 King. Let's further think of this ; 
 
 Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means. 
 May fit us to our shape : if this should fail. 
 And that our drift look through our bad performance, 
 'Twere better not assay'd ; therefore this project. 
 Should lia\e a back, of second, that might hold, 
 If this slionld blast in proof. Soft ; — let me see : — 
 We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings, — 
 Iha't: 
 
 When in your motion you are hot and dry, 
 (As make your bouts more violent to that end,) 
 Aud that iie calls for driuk, I'll have preferr'd him 
 A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, 
 If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck. 
 Our purpose may hold tliere. But stay, what noise ? 
 
 Enter Queen. 
 How now, sweet queen "i* 
 
 Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, 
 So fast they follow : — Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. 
 
 Laer. Drown'd ! O where '> 
 
 Queen. I'here is a willow grows ascaunt the brook. 
 That .shews his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
 Therewith fantastic garlands did she make 
 Of crow flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, 
 That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, 
 But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them : 
 There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
 Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
 When down her weedy trophies, and herself. 
 Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; 
 And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: 
 Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes: 
 As one incapable of her own distress, 
 Or like a creature native and indu'd 
 Unto that element: but long it could not be, 
 'i'ill tiiat her garments, heavy with their drink, 
 PulI'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
 To muddy death. 
 
 Lner. A\ah then, she is drown'd ? 
 
 Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. 
 
 £(««/•. I'oo much ol water hast thou, poor Ophelia, 
 Aiid tiierefore I forbid my tears : But yet. 
 It is our trick ; uat'ire her custom holds. 
 Let sliame say what it will : when these are gone. 
 The vvoMian will be out. — Adieu, my lord ! 
 I have a speech of fire, that lain would blaze. 
 
 But that this folly drowns it. [Exit 
 
 „King. Let's follow, Gertrude ; 
 
 How inuch I had to do to calm his rage ! 
 Now iear I, this will give it start again; 
 Therefore, let's follow. {Exeunl 
 
 . ACT V. 
 Scene \.—A Churchyard- 
 Enter Two Clowns, ivith spades, ^fc. 
 
 1 Clo. Is she to be buried in christian burial, that 
 wilfully seeks her own salvation? 
 
 2 C/o. I tell thee, she is ; therefore make her 
 grave straight : the crowner hath set on her, and 
 finds it christian burial. 
 
 1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned her- 
 self in her own defence '? 
 
 2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so. 
 
 1 Clo. It must be se offendeyido ; it cannot be else, 
 Fo- here lies the point: If I drown myself wit- 
 tingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three 
 branches ; it is, to act, to do, and to perform : Argal, 
 she drflwned herself wittingly. 
 
 2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver 
 
 1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: 
 here stands the man ; good : If the man go to the 
 water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he 
 goes ; mark you that : but if the water come to him, 
 and drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he, 
 that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his 
 own life. 
 
 2 Clo. But is this law ? 
 
 1 Clo. Ay, marry is't; crowner's-quest law. 
 
 2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't ? If this had not 
 been gentlewoman, she should have been buried out 
 of christian burial. 
 
 1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st : and the more 
 pity, that great folks shall have countenance in this 
 world to drown or hang themselves, more than their 
 even christian. Come, my spade. There is no an- 
 cient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave- 
 makers ; they hold up Adam's profession. 
 
 2 Clo. Was be a gentleman'? 
 
 1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 
 
 2 Clo, Why, he had none. 
 
 1 Clo. What, art a heathen ? How dost thou un- 
 derstand the scripture? The scripture says, Adam 
 digged : Could he dig without arms? I'll put another 
 question to thee : if thou answerest me not to the pur- 
 pose, confess thyself — 
 
 2 Clo. Go to. 
 
 1 Clo. What is he, that builds stronger than either 
 the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter ? 
 
 2 Clo. The gallows-maker ; for that frame outlives 
 a thousand tenants. 
 
 1 Clo. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the 
 gallows does well : But how does it well? it does 
 well to those that do ill: now than dost ill, to say, the 
 gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, the 
 gallows may do well to thee. To't again ; come. 
 
 2 Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship 
 Wright, or a carpenter ? 
 
 1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and anyoke. 
 
 2 Clo. Marry, now I can telL 
 
 1 Clo. To't. 
 
 2 Clo. Mass, I cannot tell. 
 
 Enter Hajilet and Horatio, at a distance 
 
 1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it ; for your 
 dull ass will not mend his pace with beating : and 
 when you are asked this question next, say, a grave- 
 maker; the houses that he makes, last till doomsday. 
 Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me q stoup of 
 liquor. [Exit 2 Clown. 
 
 (1 Clown digs, and sings.) 
 In youth, ivhen I did love, did luve, 
 
 MelhuiKjht. it was very sweet. 
 To contract. 0, the time, for, nil. my behove, 
 mvthouglit, there was nothing meet. 
 
706 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business ? 
 he sings at grave- making. 
 
 Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of 
 easiness. 
 
 H(7?n. 'Tis e'en so : the hand of little employment 
 
 hath the daintier sense. 
 
 1 Clo. But age, with his stealing steps. {Sings.) 
 
 Hath claiud me in his clutch. 
 
 And huih shipped me into the land, 
 
 As if 1 had never been such. 
 
 [Throios up a skull.) 
 Hain. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing 
 once : How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it 
 were Cain's jsiw-bone, that did the first murder! 
 This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass 
 now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, 
 might it not? 
 
 Hor. It might, my lord. 
 
 Ham. Or of a courtier; which could say, Good- 
 morroiv, srveet lord! How dost tkon, good lord? 
 'I'his might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my 
 lord such-a one's horse, when he meant to beg it; 
 might it not? 
 
 nor. Av, my lord. 
 
 Ham. \Vhv, e'en so : and now my lady Worm's ; 
 chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a 
 sexton's spade : Here's fine revolution, and we had 
 the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the 
 breeding, but to play at loggats with them ? mine 
 ache to thijik on't. 
 
 1 Clo. A pick-a.ve, and a spade, a spade, {Siiigs.) 
 For — and a shrouding sheet : 
 0, a pit of clay for to be tnade. 
 For sicch a guest is meet. 
 
 {Throws up a slndl.) 
 Ham. There's another : Why may not that be the 
 skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddits now, his 
 quillets, his cases, his tenures, and liis tricks :* why 
 does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him 
 about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell 
 him of his action of battery? Humph! This fellow 
 might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his 
 statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vou- 
 chers, his recoveries: Is this the fine of his fines, 
 and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine 
 pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no 
 more of iiis purchases, and double ones too, than the 
 length and breadth of a pair of indentures '^ The 
 very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this 
 bon'; and must the inheritor himself have no more ? 
 ha? 
 Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. 
 Ham. Is not parchment made of .sheep-skins? 
 Hor. Ay, my lord, and calves-skins too. 
 Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek out 
 assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow : — 
 Whose grave's this, sirrah ? 
 1 Clo. Mine, sir.— 
 
 0, a pit of clay for to be made {Sings.) 
 For such a guest is meet. 
 Ham. I think it be thine, indeed ; for thou liest in't. 
 I Clo. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not 
 yours : for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. 
 
 Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is 
 hine : 'tis for the dead, and not for the quick ; there- 
 fore thou liest 
 
 I Clo. "lis a quick lie, sir ; 'twill away again, from 
 me to you. 
 
 Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? 
 ] Clo. For no man, sir. 
 Ham. What woman, then ? 
 ] Clo. For none, neither. 
 Ham. Who is to be buried in't? 
 1 Clo. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her 
 soul , she's dead. 
 
 Ham. How absolute the knave is! we must speak 
 by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the 
 lord, Horat'o, these three years I have taken note of 
 .•t ; the age is grown so picked, that the toe of the 
 peasant conies so near the heel of the courtier, he 
 
 galls his kibe. — How long hast thou been a grais- 
 maker ? 
 
 1 Clo. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that 
 day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbraa. 
 
 Ham. How long's that since ? 
 
 1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell 
 that: It was that very day that young Hamlet was 
 born : he that is mad, and sent into England. 
 
 Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent into England ? 
 
 1 Clo. Why, because he was mad : he shall recover 
 his wits there ; or, if he do not, 'tis no great matter 
 there. 
 
 Ham. Why? 
 
 I Clo. 'Twill not be seen in him there ; there the 
 men are as mad as he. 
 
 Ham. How came he mad ? 
 
 I Clo. Veiy strangely, they say. 
 
 Ham. How strangely? 
 
 1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wits. 
 
 Ham. Upon what ground ? 
 
 1 Clo. Wny, here in Denmark ; I have been sexton 
 here, man and boy, thirty years. 
 
 Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he 
 rot? 
 
 1 Clo 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, (as 
 we have many pocky corses now-a days, that will 
 scarce hold the laying in,) he will last you some 
 eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine 
 year. 
 
 Ham. Why he more than another? 
 
 1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his 
 trade, that he will keep out water a great while ; tind 
 your wafer is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead 
 body. Here's a skull now hath lain you i'the earth 
 three-and-twenty years. 
 
 Ham. Whose was it ? 
 
 1 Clo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was ; Whose 
 do you think it was? 
 
 Ham. Nay, I know not. 
 
 1 Clo. A pes-tilence on him for a mad rogue ! he 
 poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This 
 same skulL sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. 
 
 ifrt-w. This? [Takes the skull.) 
 
 1 Clo. E'en that. 
 
 Ham. .\Ias, poor Yorick • — I knew him, Horatio; 
 a fellow of infinite jest, of niost excellent fancy : he 
 hath borne me on liis back a thousand times ! and 
 now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! niy gorge 
 rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed 
 I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? 
 your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merri- 
 ment, that were wont to set the table on a roar ? 
 Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite 
 chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, 
 and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour 
 she must come ; make her laugh at that. — Pr'ythee, 
 Horatio, tell me one thing. 
 
 Hor. What's that, my lord ? 
 
 Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o'thi» 
 fashion i'the earth? 
 
 Hor. E'en so 
 
 Ham. And smelt so ? pah ! 
 
 {Throws down the skull.) 
 
 Hor. E'en so, my lord. 
 
 Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio? 
 Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of 
 Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung hole ? 
 
 Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiou.sly, to consider 
 so. 
 
 Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither 
 with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As 
 thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, 
 Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of 
 earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto 
 he was converted, might they not stop a beer- 
 barrel ? 
 
 Imperious Caesar, dead, and turn'd to clay. 
 Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : 
 O, that the earth, which kept the world m awe, 
 Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw! 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 767 
 
 But soft ! but soft ! aside ! — Here comes the king. 
 
 Enter Priests, §fc. in procession; the Corpse of 
 Ophelia ; Laektes, ancf Mourners, follotving ; 
 King, Queen, their Trains, §fc. 
 
 The queen, the courtiers: Who is this they follow? 
 And with such maimed rites! This doth betoken, 
 The corse, they follow, did with des|>erate hand 
 Fordo its own life. 'Twas of some estate: 
 Couch we awhile, and mark. 
 
 [Retiring tvith Horatio.) 
 hner. VVhat ceremony else ? 
 Ham. That is Laertes, 
 
 A very noble youth: Mark. 
 Laer. VVhat ceremony else ? 
 ] Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd 
 As we have warranty: Her death was doubtful ; 
 And, but that great comonand o'ersways the order, 
 She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd 
 Till the last trumpet; for charitable prayers, 
 Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her: 
 Yet here she is allowed her virgin crants. 
 Her maiden strewuients, and the bringing home 
 Of bell and burial. 
 
 Laer. Must there no more be done ? 
 1 Priest. No more be done ! 
 
 We should profane the service of the dead. 
 To sing a requiem, and such rest to her 
 As to peace-parted souls. 
 
 Luer. Lay her i'the earth ; — 
 
 And fiom her fair and unpolluted flesh. 
 May violets spring! — I tell thee, churlish priest, 
 A iiiinister'ing angel shall my sister be. 
 When thou liest howling. 
 Ham. What, the fair Ophelia ! 
 
 Queen. Sweets to the sweet : Farewell ! 
 
 {Scattering Jloivers.) 
 I hop'd thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wile ; 
 I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid. 
 And not have strew'd thy grave. 
 
 Laer. O, treble woe 
 
 Fall ten times treble on that cursed head. 
 Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense 
 Dforiv'd thee of! — Hold oft' the earth a while, 
 Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: 
 
 {Leaps into the grave.) 
 Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead ; 
 Till of this flat a mountain you have made. 
 To o'ertoi) old Pelion, or the skyish head 
 Of blue Olympus. 
 
 Ham, (Advancing.) What is he, whose grief 
 Bears sucli an emphasis ? whose phrase of sorrow 
 Conjures the wander'ing stars, and makes them 
 
 stand 
 liike wonder- wounded hearers? this is I, 
 Hamlet the Dane. {Leaps into the grave.) 
 
 Laer. The devil take thy soul ! 
 
 {Grappling with him.) 
 Ham. Thou pray'st not well. 
 I pr'ythee, take thy fiugers from my throat; 
 For, though I am not splenetive and rash, 
 \et have I in me something dangerous. 
 Which let thy wisdom fear: Hold off thy hand. 
 King. Pluck them asunder. 
 Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet ! 
 
 All. Gentlemen, — 
 Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. 
 
 {The Attendants part them, and they come 
 out of the grave.) 
 Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, 
 Until my eyelids vvill no longer wag. 
 Queen. O, my son ! what theme ? 
 Ham. I lov'd Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers 
 Could not, with all their quantity of love, 
 Make up my sum. — What wilt thou do for her? 
 King. O. he is mad, Laertes. 
 Qiieen. For love of God, forbear him. 
 Rem. 'Zounds, shew me what thon'lt do: 
 VVoul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear 
 thyself? 
 
 ! Woul't drink up Esil ? eat a crocodile ? 
 I'll do't. — Dost thou come here to whine? 
 To outface me with leaping in her grave ? 
 
 I Be buried quick with her, and so will I: 
 And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw 
 Millions of acres on us ; till our ground, 
 Singeing his pate against the burning zone, 
 Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an tiiou'It mouth, 
 I'll rant as well as thou. 
 
 Queen. This is mere madness . 
 
 And thus a while the fit will work on him; 
 Anon, as patient as the female dove. 
 When that her golden couplets are disclos'd, 
 His silence will sit drooping. 
 
 Ham. Hear you, sir, 
 
 What is the reason that you use me thus? 
 I lov'd you ever : But it is no matter ; 
 Let Hercnles himself do what he may. 
 The cat will mew, and dog vvill have his day. \Exit 
 King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.— 
 
 [Exit Horatio. 
 Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech : 
 
 {To Laertes.) 
 We'll put the matter to the present push. — 
 Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. — 
 This grave shall have a living monument: 
 An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ; 
 Till then, in patience our proceeding be. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II.— ^ Hall in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Hamlet and Horatio. 
 
 Ham. So much for this, sir : now shall you see the 
 other ; — 
 Yo do remember all the circumstance ? 
 . Hor. Remember it, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting. 
 That would not let me sleep : methought, I lay 
 Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, 
 And prais'd be rashness for it. — Let us knovs 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves ns well. 
 When our deep plots do pall ; and that should teach 
 
 lis. 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends. 
 Rough-hew them how we will. 
 
 Hor. That is most certain. 
 
 Ham. Up from my cabin, 
 My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark 
 Grop'd I to find out them : had my desire ; 
 Finger'd their packet; and, in fine, withdrew 
 To mine own room again : making so bold. 
 My fears forgetting manners, to unseal 
 Their grand commission ; where I found, Horatio, 
 A royal knavery; an exact command, — 
 Larded with many several sorts of reasons. 
 Importing Denmark's health, and England's too. 
 With, ho ! such bugs and goblins in my life. — 
 That, on the supervise, no leisure bated. 
 No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, 
 My head should be struck off. 
 
 Hor. Is't possible ? 
 
 Ham. Here's the commission , read it at mora 
 leisure. 
 But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed ? 
 
 Hor. Ay, 'beseech you. 
 
 Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanieB, 
 Or I could make a prologue to my brains. 
 They had begun the play : — I sat me down ; 
 Devis'd a new commission ; wrote it fair : 
 I once did hold it, as our statists do, 
 A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much 
 How to forget that learning: but, sir, now 
 It did me yeoman's service : Wilt thou know • 
 The effect of what I wrote ? 
 
 Hor. Ay, good my lord. 
 
 Ham. An earnest conjuration from the king, — 
 As England was his faithful tributary ; 
 As love between them like the palm might flourish, 
 As neace should still her wheaten garland wear. 
 And stand a comma 'tween their amities ; 
 
768 
 
 HAMLET, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 And many such like as's of great charge,— 
 That, on tlie view and knowing of these contents, 
 Witiioiit debatemeiit further, more, or less, 
 He should tlie bearers put to sudden death. 
 Not shriviiig-time ailow'd. 
 
 Hor. How was this seal'd ? 
 
 Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant; 
 I had my father's signet in my nurse. 
 Which was the model of that Danish seal : 
 Folded the writ up in form of the other; 
 Siibscrib'd it ; gave't the impression ; plac'd it 
 
 safely. 
 The changehng never known: Now, the next day 
 Was our sea-fijht : and what to tliis was sequent 
 Thou knovv'st already. 
 
 Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. 
 
 Ham. Wliy, man, they did make love to this 
 employ riient; 
 They are not near my conscience ; their defeat 
 Does by their own insinuation grow: 
 'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes 
 Between the pass and fell incensed points 
 Of mighty opposites. 
 
 Hur. Why, what a king is this i 
 
 Ham. Does it not, think thee, iitaod me now 
 upon ? [ther ; 
 
 He, that hath kill'd ray king, and whor'd my mo- 
 Fopp'd in between the election and my hopes ; 
 Thrown out his angle for my proper lil'e. 
 And with such cozenage ; is't not perfect conscience. 
 To quit him with this arm ? and is't not to be damn'd, 
 To let this canker of our nature come 
 In further evil ? 
 
 Hor. It must be shortly known to him from 
 England, 
 What is the issue of the business there. 
 
 Hatn. It will be short: the interim is min« ; 
 And a man's life's no more than to say, one. 
 But I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
 That to Laertes I lorgot myself; 
 For by the image of my cause, I see 
 The portraiture of his : I'll count his favours : 
 But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 
 Into a towering passion. 
 
 Hor. Peace ; who comes here ? 
 
 Enter OsRic. 
 
 Osr. Yotjr lordsliip is right welcome back to 
 Denmark. 
 
 Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. — Dost know this 
 water- tly? 
 
 Hor. No, my good lord. 
 
 Ha7n. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a 
 vice to know him : He hath much land, and fertile ; 
 let a beast be lord of beasts, and bis crib shall stand 
 at the king's mess : 'Tis a chough ; but, as I say, 
 spacious in the possession of dirt. 
 
 Our. Sweet lord, if your lordship were of leisure, 
 I should impart a thing to you from his majesty. 
 
 Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of 
 spirit: Your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the 
 head. 
 
 Osr. 1 thank your lordship, 'tis very hot. 
 
 Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold ; the wind 
 is northerly. 
 
 Osr. It IS indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. 
 
 Ham. But yet, methinks, it is very sultry and 
 hot; or my complexion — 
 
 Osr. Exceedingly, my lord ; it is very sultry, — 
 as 'twere, — I cannot tell how. — My lord, his ma- 
 jesty bade me signify to you, that he lias laid a 
 .great wager on your hfad : Sir, this is the matter, — 
 
 Ham. 1 beseech you, remember — 
 
 [H()miet moves him to put on his hat.) 
 
 Osr. Nay, good my lord ; for my east-, in good 
 faith. Sir, here is newly come to court, Laertes; 
 believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most ex- 
 cellent dilVf-reiices, of veiy suK society, ;\n(l great 
 shewing; Indeed, to speak ffelinjjy oi him, lie is 
 the caid or calendar of gentry, foi you shall find 
 
 in him the continent of what part a gentleman 
 would see. 
 
 Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in 
 you; — though, I know, to divide him inienti.rially, 
 would dizzy the arithmetic of memory; and yet but 
 raw neither, in resp,.'ct of his quick sail. But, in the 
 verity of extolmeiit, 1 take him to be a soul of great 
 article ; and his infusion of sucii dearth and rareness, 
 as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his 
 mirror ; and, who else would trate him, his umbrage, 
 nothing more. 
 
 Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. 
 
 Ham. Tho concernancy, sir? why do we wrap 
 the gentleman in our more rawer breath ? 
 
 Osr. Sir? 
 
 Hor. Is't not possible to understand in another 
 tongue? You will do't, sir, really 
 
 Ham. What imports the nomination of this gen- 
 
 Osr. Of Laertes ? (tieman? 
 
 Hor. His purse is empty already ; all his golden 
 words are spent. 
 
 Ham. 01 him, sir. 
 
 Osr. I know, you are not ignorant — 
 
 Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if yon 
 did, it would not much approve me ; — Well, sir. 
 
 Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence 
 Laertes is — 
 
 Hatn. I dare not confess that, lest I should com- 
 paie with him in excellence ; but, to know a man 
 well, were to know himself. 
 
 Osr. I mean, sir, (or his weapon ; but in the im- 
 putation laid on him by them, in his meed he's 
 cmfellowed. 
 
 Ham. What's his weapon? 
 
 Osr. Rapier and dagger. 
 
 Ham. That's two of his weapons : but, well'. 
 
 Ors. The king, sir, hath wagered with him six 
 Barbary horses : againgt the which he has impawned, 
 as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with 
 their assigns, as girdle, haogers, and so: Three of 
 the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very 
 responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and 
 of very liberal conceit. 
 
 Ham. What call you the carriages ? 
 
 Hor. I knew, you must be edified by the margent, 
 ere you had done. 
 
 Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. 
 
 Ham. The phrase would be more german to the 
 matter, if we could carry a cannon by our sides; I 
 would, it might be hangers till then. But, on: Six 
 Barbary horses against six French swords, their 
 assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages; that's 
 the French bet against the Danish : Why is tliis im- 
 pawned, as you call it? 
 
 Osr. 'J'he king, sir, Iiath laid, that in a dozen 
 p;isses between yourself and him, he shall not ex- 
 ceed you three hits: he hath laid, on twelve for 
 nine ; and it would come to immediate trial, if your 
 lordship would vouchsafe tJie answer. 
 
 Ham. How, if I answer, no? 
 
 Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your 
 person in trial. 
 
 Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall : If it 
 please his majesty, it is the breathing time of day 
 vfhh me : let the foils be brought, tlie gentleman 
 willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win 
 for him, if I can ; if not, I will gain notiiing but my 
 shauie, and the odd hits. 
 
 Osr. Shall I deliver you so? 
 
 Ham. To this effect, sir; after what flourish your 
 nature will. 
 
 Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. [ElxiU 
 
 Ham. Yours, yours. — He does well, to commend 
 it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. 
 
 Hor. This lapwing runs away with tlie shell on 
 his head. 
 
 Ha7n. He did comply with his dug, before he' 
 sucked it. Thus has he (and many more of the 
 same breed, that, I know, the dro.ssy age dotes on, i 
 only got the tune of the time, and outward liabit of 
 
SCENE '2. 
 
 PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 769 
 
 encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which carries 
 theui tiiroiigli and throiigli the most fund and win- 
 nowed opinions; and do but blow them to tlieir 
 trial, the bubbles are out. 
 
 Enter a Lord. 
 
 Lord. My lord, his majesty commended him to 
 yon by yonng Osric, who brings back to him, that 
 you attend nim in the hall : He sends to know, if 
 your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you 
 will take longer time. 
 
 Ham. I am constant to my purposes, they follow the 
 king's pleasure : if his fitness speaks, mine is ready ; 
 now, or whensoever, provided I be so able as now. 
 
 Lord. 'I'he king, and queen, and all are coming 
 
 Ham. In happy time. [down. 
 
 Lord. The queen desires you, to nse some gentle 
 entertainment to Laertes, before you fall to play. 
 
 Ham. She well instructs me. [Exit Lord. 
 
 Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I do not think so ; since he went into 
 France, I have been in continual practice; I shall 
 win at the odds. But thou would'st not think, how 
 ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter. 
 
 Hor. Nay, good my lord, — 
 
 Hatn. It is out foolery.; but it is such a kind of 
 gain-giving, as would, perhaps, trouble a woman. 
 
 Hor, I( your mind dislike any thing, obey it : I 
 will lorestul tlipir repair hither, and say, you are 
 not fit. 
 
 Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury ; there is a 
 special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be 
 now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be 
 now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readi- 
 ness is ail: Since no man, of aught he leaves, 
 knows, what is't to leave betimes ? Let be. 
 
 Enter Klnij, Queen, Laertes, Lords, Osric, and 
 Attendants, with foils, §)'c. 
 
 King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand 
 from me. 
 
 [T/ie King puts the hand of Laertes into 
 that of Hamlet. 
 
 Ha7n. Give me your pardon, sir: I have done 
 you wrong ; 
 But pardon it, as you are a gentleman. 
 This presence knows, and you must needs have 
 
 heard, 
 How I am punish'd with a sore distraction. 
 What I have done. 
 
 That might your nature, honour, and exception. 
 Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. 
 Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never, Hamlet: 
 If Handet from himself be ta'en away. 
 And, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes, 
 Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. 
 Who does it then ? His madness : If't be so, 
 Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd ; 
 His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. 
 Sir, in this audience. 
 Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil 
 Free me so far in your mo.st generous thoughts. 
 That I have shot my arrow o'er the house. 
 And hurt my brother. 
 
 Laer. I am satisfied in nature. 
 
 Whose motive, in this case, should stir nre most 
 To my revenge : but, in my terms of honour, 
 I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement. 
 Till by some elder ma.sters, of known honour, 
 1 have a vo ce and precedent of peace. 
 To keep my name ungor'd: Hut till that time, 
 I do receive your oller'd love like love. 
 And will not wrong it. 
 
 Ham. I- embrace it freely ; 
 
 And will this brother's wager frankly play. — 
 Give us the foils ; come on. 
 
 Laer. Come, one for me. 
 
 Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes ; in mine ignorance 
 Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night, 
 Stick (iery off indeed. 
 
 Laer. You mock me, sir. 
 
 Ha7/i. No, by this hand. 
 
 King. (Jive them the foils, young Osric— Cousin 
 Hamlet, 
 You know the wager? 
 , Hatn. Very well, my lord ; 
 
 Your grace hath laid the odds o'lhe weaker side. 
 
 king. I do not fear it: J have seen you both: — 
 But since he's better'd, we have therelbre odds. 
 
 Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another. 
 
 Ham. This likes me well : These ibils have all a 
 length"? ( They prepare to play.) 
 
 Osr. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that ta- 
 ble ; — 
 If Hamlet give the first or second hit. 
 Or quit in answer of the third exchange. 
 Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; 
 The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath; 
 And in the cup an union shall he throw. 
 Richer than that which four successive kings 
 In Denmark's crown have worn : Give me the cups; 
 And let the kettle to the trumpet speak. 
 The trumpet to the cannoneer without. 
 The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 
 Notv the king drinks to Hamlet. — Come, begin ; — 
 And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. 
 
 Ham. Come on, sir, 
 
 Laer. Come, my lord, {They play.) 
 
 Ham. One. 
 
 Laer. No. 
 
 Ham. Judgment. 
 
 Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. 
 
 Laer. Well,— again. 
 
 King. Stay, give me drink : Hamlet, this pearl is 
 thine ; 
 Here's to thy health. — Give him the cup. 
 
 {Trumpets sound; and cannon shot off tvithin.) 
 
 Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it bv awhile. 
 Come. — Another hit ; What say you ? [They play.] 
 
 Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confess. 
 
 King. Our son shall win. 
 
 Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath.— 
 
 Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows ; 
 The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. Good madam, — 
 
 King. Gertrude, do net drink. 
 
 Queen. 1 will, my lord ;— I pray you, uardon me. 
 
 King. It is the poisou'd cup ; it is too late. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam ; by and by. 
 
 Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. 
 
 Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. 
 
 King. r do not think if. 
 
 Laer. And yet it is almost against my conscience. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 
 Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes; - ou do but 
 dally; 
 I pray yon, pass with your best violence 
 I am afeard, you make a wanton of me. 
 
 Laer. Say you so? come on. {They piay.) 
 
 Osr. Nothing neither way. 
 
 Laer. Have at you now. 
 
 {Laertes wounds Hatnlet ; then, in scvf- 
 Jiing, they change rapiers, and Hamlet 
 ■wounds Laertes.) 
 
 King. Part them, they are incens'd. 
 
 Ham. Nay, come again. {The Queen falls.) 
 
 Osr. Look to the queen there, ho ! 
 
 Hoi; They bleed on both .sides : — How is it, uiy 
 lord? 
 
 Os7. How is't, Laertes? 
 
 Laer. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, 
 Osric ; 
 I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery 
 
 Ham. How does the queen ? 
 
 Kitig. She swoons to see them bleed. 
 
 Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink, — O my dear 
 Hamlet !— 
 The drink, the drink ; — I am poisou'd! {Dies.) 
 
 Ham. O villany!— Ho! let the door be lock'd • 
 
770 
 
 HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 Treachery! seek it out. {Laertes falls.) 
 
 Laer. It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain ; 
 No medicine in the world can do thee good. 
 In th«e there is not half" an hour's life ; 
 riie treacherous instrument is in thy liand, 
 Unbated, and envenom'd : the foul practice 
 Ha'h turn'd itself on me; lo, here 1 lie, 
 Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd ; 
 I can no more; the king, the king's to blame. 
 
 Horn. The point 
 Envenom'd too !— Then, venom to thy work. 
 
 [Stabs the King.) 
 
 Osr. ^ Lords. Treason, treason ! 
 
 Kinrj. O, yet defend me, friends,.! am but hurt. 
 
 Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned 
 Dai.e, 
 Drink off this potion : — Is the union here? 
 Follow my mother. {King dies.) 
 
 Laer. He is justly serv'd ; 
 
 Ft is a poison temper'd by himself. — 
 Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet : 
 Mine and my father's death come not upon thee ; 
 Nor thine on me ! {Dies.) 
 
 Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. 
 I am dead , Horatio : — Wretched queen, adieu -. — 
 You that look pale and tremble at tJiis chance. 
 That are but mutes or audience to this act, 
 Had I bu* time, (as this fell sergeant, death. 
 Is strict in his arrest,) O, I could tell you, — 
 But let it be :— Horatio, I am dead ; 
 Thou liv'st ; report me and my cause aright 
 To the unsatisfied. 
 
 Hor. Never believe it; 
 
 I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. 
 Here's yet some liquor left. 
 
 Ham. As fhou'rt a man, — 
 
 Give me the cup ; let go ; by heaveif I'll have it. — 
 
 God ! — Horatio, what a wounded name, 
 Tilings standing thus unknown, shall live behind me ? 
 If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart. 
 
 Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
 
 t\nd in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, 
 
 i'o tell my story. — 
 
 {March afar off, and shot within.) 
 VVhat warlike noise is this'? 
 
 Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from 
 Poland, 
 T» the ambassadors of England gives 
 This warlike volley. 
 
 Ham. O, I die, Horatio; 
 
 The [lotent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit ; 
 
 1 cannot live to hear the news from England : 
 But J do prophe.«.v, the election lights 
 
 On Fortinbras ; he has my dying voice ; 
 So tell him, with the concurrents, more or less. 
 Which have solicited, — The rest is silence. ( 
 ,Mut. "^ow a heart; — Good night, 
 
 ■ iwe" r'ince 
 
 And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! 
 
 Why does the drum come hither? {March wiihiui 
 
 Enter Fortinbras, the English Ambassadors, 
 and others. 
 
 Fort. Where is this sight ? 
 
 Hor. VVhat is it, you would see? 
 
 If aught of woe, or wonder, cea.se your search. 
 
 Pj/'t. This quarry cries ou havoc '? — O proud 
 death ! 
 What feast is toward In thine eternal cell, 
 Tliat thou so many princes, at a shot. 
 So bloodily hast struck 'i 
 
 1 Atnb. The sight is dismal ; 
 
 And our affairs from England come too late : 
 The ears are senseless, that should gi\e us hearing. 
 To tell him, his commandment is fultill'd. 
 That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead : 
 VVherp should we have our thanks ? 
 
 Hor. Not from his mouth, 
 
 Had it the ability of life to thank you ; 
 He never gave commandment for their death. 
 But since, so jump upon this bloody question. 
 You from the Polack wars, and you from England, 
 Are here arriv'd ; give order, that the.se bodies 
 High on a stage be placed to the view ; 
 And let me speak, to the yet unknowing world. 
 How tliese things come about : So shall you hear 
 Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts ; 
 Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters ; 
 Of deaths put on by cunning, and forc'd cause ; 
 And, in this upshot, purposes mistook 
 Fall'ii on the inventors' heads : all this can I 
 Truly deliver. 
 
 Fort. Let us haste to hear it. 
 
 And call the noblest to the audience. 
 For iiTe, with sorrow I embrace my fortune ; 
 I have some rights of memory in this kingdom. 
 Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. 
 
 Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak. 
 And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. 
 But let this same be presently peri'orm'd, 
 Kven while men's minds are wild ; lest more mis- 
 chance. 
 On plots, and errors, hapi:en. 
 
 Fort. Let four captains 
 
 Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, tc the stage ; 
 For he was likely, had he been put on, 
 To have prov'd most royally : and, for his passage, 
 The soldier's music, and the rites of war, 
 Speak loudly tor him. — 
 Take up the bodies: — Such a sight as this _ 
 Becomes the field, but here shews much amiss. 
 Go, bid the soldi»wS shoot. {A dead march.) 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing off' the dead bodies ; after 
 which, a peal of ordnance is shot ojf. 
 
OTHELLO, MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 The beauties of tin's play impress themselves so strongly upon the attention of (he reader, that they can draw 
 no aid from critical illustration. The fiery openness of Otlieilo, mngnanimoiis, arlless, and credulous, boundless in his 
 ronfidenre, ardent in his affection, inflexible in his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge ; ihe cool malignitv of 
 lago, silent in his resentment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of his interest and his vengeance; the 
 soft simplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perseverance in her suit, 
 and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspecied, are such proofs of Sliakspeare's skill in human nature, as, 
 I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. The gradual progress which lago makes in the Moor's con- 
 viction, and the circumstances which he employs to infliinie him, are so artfully natural, thf^t, though it will, perhaps, 
 not be said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man /lot easi/i/ jealous, yet we cannot but pity him, when 
 tt iHsl we find him perplexed hi the extreme. 
 
 There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities, should steal upon esteem, though it misses of 
 approbation; but the character of lago is so conducted, that he is, from the first scene to the last, hated and despised. 
 
 Even Ihe inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous in any other piece, not only for their justness, 
 but their strength. Cassio is braie, benevolent, and honest, ruined onljr by his want of stubbornness to resist an 
 insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicious credulity, and impatient submission to the cheats which be sees practised 
 npunhiin, and which, by persuasion, he sutlers to be repeated, exhibit a .strong picture of a weak mind betrayed, 
 by unlawful desires, to a false friend; and the virtue of Emilia is such as we often find, worn loosely, but not cast 
 oil'; easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed at atrocious villanies. 
 
 The scenes, from the beginning to the end, are busy, varied by happy interchanges, and regularly promoting the pro- 
 gression of the story; and the narrative in the end, though it tells but what is known already, jet is necessary to 
 produce the death of Othello. ' 
 
 Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been occasionally related, there had been little 
 wanting to a drama of the most exact and scrupulous regularity. Jo-hnuii, 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 DUKE OP VENICE. 
 
 UKABANTIO, a Senator. 
 
 Tiro other Senators. 
 
 OKATIANO, Brother to Brabantio. 
 
 LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio. 
 
 OTHELLO, the Moor. 
 
 CASSIt), his Litutenant. 
 
 I AGO, his Ancient. 
 
 RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman. 
 
 MONTANO, Othello's Predecessor in the Government of 
 
 Cyprus. 
 Clown, Servant to Othello. — Herald. 
 
 DESDEMONA. Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to 
 
 0/ hello. 
 EMILI\, Wife to lago. 
 BIANCA, a Courtezan, Mistress to Cassio. 
 Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors, 
 
 Attendants, etc. 
 
 Scene, fur the First Act, in Venice ; during the rest of the Play, at a Sea-port in Cyprus. 
 
 .4lCT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Roderigo and Iago. 
 
 Rod. TiLsh, never tell nie, I take it much unkindly, 
 That thou, lago, — who hast had my pnrse. 
 As if the strings were thine, — shonld'st know of this. 
 
 Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me : — 
 If ever I did dream ol such a matter, 
 Abhor me. . [hate. 
 
 Rod. Thou told'stme, thou didst hold him in thy 
 
 lago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones 
 of the city, 
 In personal suit to make me his lieutenant. 
 Oft capp'd to him ;— and, by the faith of man, 
 I know my price, I am worth no worse a place : 
 But he, as loving his own pride and purposes. 
 Evades them, with a bomba.st circumstance. 
 Horribly stnff'd with epithets of war; 
 And, in conclusion, nonsuits 
 My mediators ; for, certes, says he, 
 I have already chose my officer. 
 And what was he ? • 
 Forsooth, a great arithmetician. 
 One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 
 A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife ; 
 That never set a .<!<juadron in the field, 
 Nor the division of a battle knows 
 More than a spinster ; unless the bookish theoric. 
 Wherein the toged consids can propose 
 As masterly as he : mere prattle, without practice. 
 Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election : 
 And I, — of whom his eyes had seen the proof, 
 At Rliodes, at Cyprus ; and on other grounds. 
 Christian and heathen,— must be be-lee'd and calm'd 
 By debitor and creditor, |hi.s counter-caster; 
 He, in good time, must liis lieutenant be. 
 And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's 
 ancient. 
 
 Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his 
 hangman. [service; 
 
 lago. But there'* no remedy; 'tis the curse of 
 
 Preferment goes by letter, and aflection. 
 Not by the old gradation, where each second 
 Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself 
 VVhether I in any just term am alfin'd 
 To love the Moor. 
 
 Rod. I would not follow him theoi 
 
 lago. O, sir, content you ; 
 I follow him to serve my turn npon him : ' 
 
 We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
 Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark 
 Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave. 
 That, doting on his own obsequious bondage. 
 Wears out his time, much like his master's ass. 
 For nought but urovender; and, when he's old, 
 
 cashier'a ; 
 Whip me such honest knaves : Others there are, 
 Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty. 
 Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; 
 And, throwing but shews of service on their lords. 
 Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd 
 their coats, [soul; 
 
 Do themselves homage : these fellows have some 
 And such a one do I profess myself. 
 For, sir. 
 
 It is as sure as yon are Roderigo, 
 Were I the Moor, I would not be lago : 
 In following him, I follow but myself; 
 Heaven is my judge, not I for lo\e and duty, 
 But seeming so, for my peculiar end : 
 For when my outward action doth demonstrate 
 The native act and figure of my heart 
 In compliment extern, 'lis not long after 
 But I will wear my heart upon my .sleeve 
 For daws to peck at ; I am not what I am. 
 
 Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe 
 If he can carry't thus ! 
 
 Iago. Call up her father : 
 
 Rouse him : make after him, poison his delight. 
 Proclaim him in the streets ; incense her kiusraeu, 
 And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 
 Plague him with Hies : though that his joy be joy. 
 Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, 
 
772 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act I 
 
 As it may lose some colour. 
 
 Rod. Here is lier fifher's honse ; I'll call alourl. 
 
 la<jo. Do ; with like tinioroiis accent, and dire 
 yell. 
 As wheoj by uight and negligence, the fire 
 Is spied in populous cities. [ho 1 
 
 Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! si>;nior Brabantio, 
 
 latjo. Awake ! what, ho ! Brabantio ! thieves ! 
 thieves ! tliieves ! 
 Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags ! 
 Thieve.-. I thieves! 
 
 Brabantio, above, at a windoio. 
 
 Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons ? 
 What is the matter there ? 
 
 Rod. Signior, is all your family within? 
 
 laijo. Are your diiors look'd ? 
 
 Bra. Why ? wherefore ask you this ? 
 
 lago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robb'd : for shame, 
 put on your gown ; 
 Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul ; 
 Even now, very now, an old black ram 
 Is tupping ynur white ewe. Arise, arise 
 Awake the suorling citizens with the bell, 
 Or else (he devil will make a ^randsire of you : 
 Arise, I say. 
 
 Bra. What, have you lost your wits ? 
 
 Rod. Most reverend sigaior, do you know my 
 voice i 
 
 Bra. Not I ; What are vou ? 
 
 Rod. My name is — Koderigo. 
 
 Bra. 'I'he worse welcome : 
 
 I have charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors : 
 In honest plainness thou hast heard me say, 
 My daughter is not for thee ; and now, in madness. 
 Being full of supper and distempering draughts. 
 Upon malicious bravery, dost tliou come 
 To start my quiet. 
 
 Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir, — 
 
 Bra. But ihou must needs be sure. 
 
 My spirit, and my place, have in them power 
 To make this bitter to thee. 
 
 Rod. Patience, good sir. 
 
 Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing i this is 
 Venice ; 
 My house is not a grange. 
 
 Rod. Most grave Brabantio, 
 
 In simjJe and pure soul I come to you. 
 
 /(7//0. 'Zounils, sir, you are one of those, that 
 will ni.t serve Gnd, if tne devil bid you. Because 
 we come to do you service, you think we are ruf- 
 fians : You'll have your daughter covered with a 
 Barbarv horse; you'll have youi- nephews neigh to 
 you; y'>u'll have coursers for cousins, und geunets 
 for errniaiis. 
 
 Bra What profane wretch art thou? 
 
 lago. I ara one, sir, that comes to tell you, your 
 daughttr and the Moor are now making the beast 
 with two backs. 
 
 Bra. Thou art a villain. 
 
 lago. You are — a senator. 
 
 Bra. This thou shalt answer; 1 know thee, Ro- 
 derigo. [yon, 
 
 Rod. Sir, I ivill answer any thing. But I beseech 
 Ift be your pleasure, and most wise consent 
 (As prutly. I find, it is.) that your fair daughter. 
 At this odd-even and dull watch o'the night. 
 Transported — with no worse nor better guard. 
 But witli a knave of common hire, a gondolier, — 
 To the Rross (-lasps of a lascivious Moor, — 
 If this be known to you, and your allowance, 
 We then ha- e done vou bold and saucy vvrongs; 
 But. if you know nut (his. my manners tell me. 
 We have your wrung rebuke. D() not believe, 
 That, from the sense of all civility, 
 I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : 
 Your daughter. — if yon have not given her leave, — 
 I say again, hath made a gross revolt; 
 Tyiiii; herd uty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, 
 L] an e.\tiaviiganl and wheeling stranger. 
 
 Of here and every where : Straight satisfy y.iuis,; ii.- 
 If she be in her chamber, or your house, 
 Ijet loose on me the justice of the state 
 For thus deluding you. 
 
 Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho 
 
 Give me a taper; — call up all my people : — 
 This accident is not unlike my dream, 
 Belief of it oppresses me already : — 
 Light, I say! light! [Exit from ahovt 
 
 lago. Farewell ; for I must leave you 
 
 It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place. 
 To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall,) 
 Against tlie Moor: For, I do know, the state, — 
 However this may gall him with some check, — 
 Cannot with safety cast him ; for he's embark'd 
 With such loud reason to the Cypnis' wars, 
 (Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls. 
 Another of his fathom they have not. 
 To lead their business : in which regard, 
 Though I do hate him p^I do hell-pains, 
 Yet, for necessity of present life, 
 I must shew out a flag and sign of love, 
 Which is indeed but sign. That you shall sarely 
 
 tind him. 
 Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search; 
 And there will I be with hini. So, farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Enter, below, Brabantio, and Servants, with 
 torches. 
 
 Bra. It is too true an evil • gone she is ; 
 And whafs to come of my despised time. 
 Is nought but bitterness. — Now, Roderigo, 
 Where didst thou see her? — O, unhappy girl ! — 
 With the Moor, say'st thou? — Who would be a 
 
 fathe 
 
 [me 
 
 How didst thou know 'twas she? — O, thou deceiv'st 
 
 Past thought ! — What said she to you ? — Get more 
 
 tapers ; [you ? 
 
 Raise all my kindred. — Are they married, think 
 
 Rod. Truly, I think, they are. 
 
 Bra. O heaven I — How got she out? — O treason 
 of the blood ! — 
 Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds 
 By what you see them act. — Are there not charms. 
 By which the pro|)erty of youth and maidhood 
 May be abus'd ? Have you not read, Roderigo, 
 Of some such thing? 
 
 Rod. Yes, sir; I have indeed. 
 
 Bra. Call up my brother. — O, that you had had 
 her! — 
 Some one way, some another. — Do you know 
 Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? 
 
 Rod. I think, I can discover him ; if you please 
 To get good guard, and go along with me. 
 
 Bra. Pray you, lead on. .At every house I'll call ; 
 I may command at most; — Get weapons, ho! 
 And raise some special oiBcers of night. — 
 On, good Roderigo ; — I'll deserve your pains. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The same. Another Street. 
 Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants. 
 
 lago. Though in the tradp of war I have slain me:.. 
 Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience. 
 To do no contriv'd murder ; I lack iniquity 
 Sometimes to do me service : Nine or ten times 
 I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs 
 
 Oih. 'Tis better as it is. 
 
 lage. Nay, but he prated. 
 
 And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms 
 Agrunst your honour. 
 That, with the little godliness I have, 
 I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, air. 
 Are you fast married':' for, be sure of this,— 
 That the magnifico is much beloved ; 
 And hath, in his effect, a voice potential 
 As double as the duke's; he will divorce you; 
 Or put upon you what restraint and grievance 
 The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,) 
 Will give him cable. 
 
SCKNE .3. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 773 
 
 Otn. Let him do his Sfjite : 
 
 My services, wiiich I have rione the sifjiiiiiry, 
 Xhall out tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know, 
 (VV'liich, uhen I know that hoastinp, is an iionour, 
 i shall pioiniilnate.) I tf-tcli my lite and being 
 From men o( royal siege ; and luy denierils 
 May sjieak, nnbonneted. to as proud a fnrtune 
 As this (hat I ha\e reaclTd : For know, lugo. 
 But tliat I love the gentle Uesdemona, 
 J would not my unhoused free condition 
 Put into circumscription and confine 
 For the sea's worth. But, look ! what lights come 
 yonder ? 
 
 Enter Cassio, at a distance, and certain Officers 
 with torches. 
 
 iayf). These are ihe raised father, and his friends : 
 Vou were best go in. 
 
 0th. Not I : I must be found; 
 
 My parts, my title, and my perfect soul. 
 Shall manifest nie rightly. Is it Uiey ? 
 
 IrKjo. By Janus, I think no. 
 
 Olh. The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. 
 The goodness o( the night ufjon you, friends ! 
 Wliat is (he news ? 
 
 Cfis. The duke does greet you, general ; 
 
 And he requires your haste- [ost-haste appearance, 
 Even on the instant. 
 
 OtL What is the matter, think you ? 
 
 Cas Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; 
 ft is a busiiKess of s(une heat; tlie galleys 
 Have sent a doz-en sequent messengers 
 This xery niiihi at one another's heels; 
 And many of the consuls, rais'd, and met, 
 Are at tlie dulse's already: You have been hotly 
 
 c:ill'd for; 
 When, briui; not ;it your Iodising to he found. 
 The Semite h^tli sent about three several quests. 
 To s^-arch yow out. 
 
 0th. 'Tis well I am found by yon. 
 
 I will but spend a word here iu the house. 
 And go witli you. [Exit. 
 
 Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? 
 
 layo. "Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land 
 carack ; 
 If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 
 
 Vas. I do out uiiderstaufL 
 
 lar/e. 
 Cas. 
 
 He's married. 
 
 To who? 
 
 Re-enter Othello. 
 
 If7r/o. Marry, to — Come, captain, will yon go? 
 Ofh. Hav,e with you. 
 
 Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you. 
 
 f!nter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers of 
 night, with torches and weapo7is. 
 
 lago. It is Brabantio : — General, be advis'd; 
 He comes to bad intent 
 
 Otli. Holla I stand there I 
 
 Rod. Signior, it is the Moor, 
 
 lira. Down with him, thief! 
 
 {Tliey draw on both sides.) 
 
 !n,jo You, Roderigo! come, sir, lam for you. 
 
 Oih. Keep up your bright sword.s, for tlie dew 
 will rust them. — 
 Good sisnior, you shall more command with years, 
 Thau with your weapons. 
 
 lira. O thou foul tliiel^ where hast thou stow'd 
 my daughter? 
 Damn'd as thou art, tliou ha«t enchanted her ; 
 For I'll refer me to all things of sense. 
 If she ill ciiains of magic were not bound. 
 Whether a maid— so tender, fair, and happy; 
 So opposite to marriage, that she shumi'd 
 The wealthy curled darlings of our nation. 
 Would ever have, to iiicur a general mock, 
 Run frou! Iter guardage to the sooty b^som 
 Of such a tliuig as thou : to fear, not to <]elight. 
 Jud;;e me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense, 
 
 That thou hast prac'is'd on her with foul charms; 
 Abus'd her delicate jouth with dniosor minerals, 
 That waken motion : — I'll have it disputed on; 
 'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. 
 I therefore apprehend and do attach thee, 
 For an abuser of the world, a practiser 
 Of arts inhibited and out of warrant : — 
 Lay hold upon him; il' he do resist, 
 Subdue him at his peril. 
 
 0th. Hold your hands. 
 
 Both you of my inclining, and the rest: 
 Were it my cue to fight, I should have knoww it 
 Without a prompter. — Where will yuu uiui m jj.j 
 To answer this your charge ? 
 
 Bra. To prison : till fit time 
 
 Of law, and course of direct session, 
 Crfil thee to answer. 
 
 OtA. What if I do obey ? 
 
 How may the duke be tlierewith satisfied, 
 VVhose messengers are here about my side, 
 Upon some present business of the state, 
 'I'o bring me to him ? 
 
 OJf. 'Tis true, most worthy signior. 
 
 The didie's in council ; and your noble self, 
 I am. sure, is sent for. 
 
 Bra. How ! the duke in cooucUt 
 
 In this time of the night! — Bring him away : 
 Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself, 
 Or any of my brothers of the state. 
 Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own: 
 For if such actions may have passage free, 
 Bond-sla\es, and pagans, shall our statesmen be. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. A Council-Ukamber. 
 
 TJie Duke and Senators, sitting at a table ; 
 Officers attending. 
 Duke. There is no composition in these news, 
 That g^iies them credit. 
 
 1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd ; 
 My letters say, a himdred and seven galleys. 
 
 Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 
 
 2 Sen. And mine, two hundrei : 
 But though they jump not on a just acco'.mt, 
 
 (As in these cases, where the aim reports, 
 'Tis oft with dilierence,) yet do they all confirm 
 A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. 
 
 Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment; 
 I do not so secure me in the error. 
 But the main article I do approve 
 In fearful sense. 
 
 Sailor.,, [Within.) What ho! what ho! what ho! 
 
 Enter an Officer, with a Sailor. 
 
 Off. A messenger from the galleys. 
 
 Duke. Now? the business? 
 
 Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; 
 So was I bid report here to the state. 
 By signior Angelo. 
 
 Duke. How say yon by this change ? 
 
 1 Sen. This cannot be, 
 
 By no assay of reason ; 'tis a pageant, 
 To keep us in fal.se gaze : When we consider 
 The importancy of Cyprus to the Tink; 
 And let ourselves again but understand, 
 That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, 
 So may he with more facile question bear it, 
 For tiiat it stands not in such warlike brace, 
 But altogether lacks the abilities Ithi?, 
 
 That Rhodes is dress"d in : — if we make thought cf 
 We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful, 
 To leave tliat latest which concerns him first; 
 Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain. 
 To wake, and wage, a danger jirofitless. 
 
 Duke, Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. 
 
 Off. Here is more news. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 Itless. The Ottouiites, reverend and gracious, 
 SteeriuK with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, 
 
( /4 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Have there injointed them with au aiter-tteei. 
 
 i Sen. Ay, so I thought: — How many, as you 
 guess ? 
 
 Mess. Of thirty sail : and now do they re-stem 
 Their backward course, bearing with frank ap- 
 pearance 
 Their purposes toward Cyprus.— Signior Montano, 
 Your trusty and most vahant servitor. 
 With his free duty recommends you thus, 
 And prays you to believe him. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus. — 
 Murcus Lucchese, is he not in town? 
 
 1 Sen, He's now in Florence. 
 
 Duke. Write i'rom us ; wish him post-post-haste : 
 despatch. [Moor. 
 
 1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant 
 
 Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderioo, 
 and Officers. 
 
 Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ 
 you 
 As^inst the general enemy Ottoman. 
 1 did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; 
 
 {To Brabantio.) 
 We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. 
 
 Bra So did I yours : good your grace, pardon me ; 
 Nfither my place, nor aught I heard of business, 
 Hath rais'd nie from my bed; nor doth the general 
 
 care 
 Take hold on me ; for my particular grief 
 Is of so flood-gate and o'erdearing nature, 
 'i'hat it engluts and swallows other sorrows. 
 And it is still iiself. 
 
 Duke. Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter! 
 
 Sen. Dead ? 
 
 Bra. Ay, to me ; 
 
 Slie is abus'd, stolen from me, and corrupted 
 By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks : 
 For nature so preposterously to err. 
 Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense. 
 Sans witchcraft could not — [ing, 
 
 Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceed- 
 Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself, 
 ^nd you of her, the bloody book of law 
 iTou shall yourself read in the bitter letter, 
 After your own sense ; yea, though our proper son 
 Stood in your action. 
 
 Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. 
 
 Here is the man, this Moor ; whom now, it seems. 
 Your special mandate, for the state atfairs. 
 Hath hither brought. 
 
 Duke §1" Sen. We are very sorry for it. 
 
 Dake. What, in your own part, can you say to 
 this? _ [To Othello.) 
 
 Bra. Nothing, but this is so, 
 
 0th. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors. 
 My very noble and approv'd good masters, — 
 That I have ta'en away tliis old man's daughter. 
 It is most true ; true, I have married her; 
 The very head and front of my oll'ending 
 Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech. 
 And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace : 
 For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith. 
 Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd 
 Their dearest action in the tented field ; 
 And little of this great world can I speak, 
 More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; 
 And therefore little shall I grace my cause. 
 Id speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa- 
 tience, 
 1 will a round uuvarnish'd tale deliver 
 Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what 
 
 charms, 
 What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 
 
 IFor such proceeding 1 am cliaig'd withal,) 
 won his daughter with. 
 
 Bra. A maiden never bold ; 
 
 0( spirit so still and quiet, that her motion 
 Blush'd at herself; auci sht. — in spite of nature. 
 
 Of years, of country, credit, every thing, — 
 To I'all in love with what she fear'd to look on ? 
 It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect, 
 That will confess — perfection so could err 
 Against all rules of nature ; and must be driven 
 To find out practices of cunning hell. 
 Why this should be. I therefore vouch agair, 
 That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood. 
 Or with some dram conjur'd to this efl'ect, 
 He wrought upon her. 
 
 Duke. To vouch this, is no proof; 
 
 Without more certain and more overt test. 
 Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods 
 Of modern seeming, do prefer against him. 
 
 1 Sen. But, Othello, speak; — 
 Did you, by indirect and forced courses, 
 Subdue and poison this young maid's aii'fcctioBs' 
 Or came it by request, and such fair question 
 As soul to soul ali'ordfeth ? 
 
 0th. I do beseech yoa, 
 
 Send for the lady to the Sagittary, 
 And let her speak of me before her father: 
 If you do find me foul in her report. 
 The trust, the office, I do hold of you. 
 Not only take away, but let your sentence 
 Even fall upon my life. 
 Duke. Fetch Desdemoaa hither. 
 
 0th. Ancient, conduct them ; you best know the 
 
 place. — [Exeunt Iago and Attendants. 
 And, till she come, as truly as to heaven 
 I do confess the vices of my blood. 
 So jiistlj- to your grave ears I'll present 
 How I did thrive in this fair lady's love. 
 And she in mine. 
 Duke. Say it, Othello. 
 Otk. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; 
 Still que.stion'd me the story of my life, 
 From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes. 
 That I have pass'd. 
 
 I rau it through, even from my boyish days, 
 'I'o the very moment that he bade me tell it. 
 Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances. 
 Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 
 Of hair-breadth scapes i'the imminent deadly breach; 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
 And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence. 
 And portance in my travel's history : 
 Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle. 
 Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch 
 
 heaven, 
 It was my hint to speak, such was the process; 
 And of the Cannibals that each other eat. 
 The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
 Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to 
 
 hear. 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline: 
 But still the house atfairs *vould draw her thence; 
 Which ever as she could with haste despatch. 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up my discourse : VVIiich I observing, 
 Took once a pliant hour; and found good means 
 To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 
 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate. 
 Whereof by parcels she had something heard. 
 But not intentively : I did consent; 
 And often did beguile her of her tears. 
 When I did speak of some distressful strote. 
 That my youth sufl'er'd. My story beinit done. 
 She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 
 She swore, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas DasalDg 
 
 strange ; 
 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 
 She wi.sh'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd 
 That heaven bad made her such a man: she thauk'd 
 
 me ; 
 And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 
 I should but teach him how to t<-il my story. 
 And that would woo her. Upon this bmt, I spake : 
 Slie lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd; 
 And 1 lov'd her, that she did pity them. 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 775 
 
 This only is the witchcraft I have us'd ; 
 Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 
 
 Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. 
 
 Duke. I think, this tale would win my daughter 
 Good Brabantio, [too. — 
 
 Take up this mangled matter at the best: 
 Men do their broken weapons rather use, 
 Than their bare hands. 
 
 Bra, I pray you, hear her speak ; 
 
 If she cowfess, that she was naif the wooer, 
 Destruction on my head, if my bad blame 
 Light on the man! — Come hither, gentle mistress : 
 Do you perceive, in all this noble company. 
 Where most you owe obedience? 
 
 Des. My noble father, 
 
 I do perceive here a divided duty: 
 To you, I am bound for life, and education; 
 My life, and education, both do learn me 
 How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty, 
 lam hitherto your daughter: But here's my husband; 
 And so much duty as my mother shew'd 
 To you, preferring you before her father, 
 So much r challeni^e that I may profess 
 Due to the Moor, my lord. 
 
 Bra. God be with you ! — 1 have done : — 
 
 Please il your grace, on to the state affairs ; 
 I had rather to adopt a child, than get it. — 
 Come hither, Moor: 
 
 i here do give thee that with all my heart. 
 Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart 
 I would keep from thee. — For your sake, jewel, 
 I am glad at soul I have no other child ; 
 For thy escape would teach me tyranny, 
 To hang clogs on them. — I have done, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Let rae speak like yourself; and lay a sen- 
 tence, 
 Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers 
 Jnto your favour. 
 
 When remedies are past, the griefs are ended. 
 By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended 
 To mourn a mischief that is past and gone, 
 is the next way to draw new mischief on. 
 What cannot be preserv'd when fortcme takes. 
 Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
 The robb'd,thatsmiles,steals something from the thief; 
 He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief. 
 
 Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile ; 
 We lose it not, so long as we can smile. 
 He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears 
 Hut the free conjfort which from thence he hears: 
 But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow, 
 That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow 
 These sentences, to sugar or to gall. 
 Being strong on both sides, are equivocal : 
 But words are words; I never yet did hear 
 That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear. 
 I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. 
 
 Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation 
 makes for Cyprus : — Othello, the fortitude of the 
 place is best known to you : And though we have 
 there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet 
 opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more 
 safier voice on you : you must therefore be content to 
 slubber the gloss of your new fbrtimes with this more 
 stubborn and boisterous expedition. 
 
 Otk. The tyrant custom, most grave senators. 
 Hath made the Rinty and steel couch of war 
 My thrice-driven bed of down : I do agnize 
 A natural and prompt alacrity. 
 I find in iiardness; and do undertake 
 'J'hese present wars against the Ottomites. 
 Most humbly therefore bending to your state, 
 I crave fit disposition for my wife ; 
 Due reference nf place, and exiiibition; 
 With such iiccominodation, and besort. 
 As levels with her breedmg. 
 
 Duke. If you please, 
 
 Be't at her father's. 
 
 Bra. I'll nat have it so. 
 
 0th. Nor L 
 
 Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside. 
 
 To nut my father in impatient thoughts. 
 By being in his eye. Most gracious duke. 
 To my unfolding lend a gracious ear; 
 And let me find a charter in your voice. 
 To assist my simpleness. 
 
 Duke. What would you, Desdemona ? 
 
 Des. That 1 did love the Moor to live with him. 
 My downright violence and storm of fortunes 
 May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdoed 
 Even to the very quality of my lord : 
 I saw Othello's visage in his mind; 
 And to his honours, and his valiant parts. 
 Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 
 So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, 
 A moth of peace, and he go to the war. 
 The rights, for which 1 love him, are bereft me. 
 And I a heavy interim shall support 
 By his dear absence : Let me go with him. 
 
 0th. Your voices, lords : — 'beseech you, let her 
 Have a free way. [will 
 
 Vouch with me, heaven ; I therefore beg it not. 
 To please the palate of my appetite ; 
 Nor to comply with heat, the young affects. 
 In my distinct and proper satisfaction ; 
 But to be free and bounteous to her mind : 
 And heaven defend your good souls, that you think 
 I will your serious and great business sea; t. 
 For she is with me : No, when light wing'd toys . 
 Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness 
 My speculative and active instruments. 
 That my disports corrupt and taint my business, 
 Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, 
 And all indign and base adversities 
 Make head against my estimation I 
 
 Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine. 
 Either for her stay, or going : the atiair cries — haste. 
 And speed must answer it ; you must hence to-night 
 
 Des. To-night, my lord ? 
 Duke. This night. 
 
 0th. With all my heart. 
 
 Duke. At nine i'the morning here we'll meet again. 
 Othello, leave some officer behind. 
 And he shall our commission bring to you ; 
 With such things else of quality and respect. 
 As doth import you. 
 
 0th. Please your grace, my ancient ; 
 
 A man he is of honesty, and trust ; 
 To his conveyance I assign my wife. 
 With what else needful your good grace shall think 
 To be sent after me. 
 
 Duke. Let it be so. — 
 
 Good night to every one. — And, noble signior, 
 
 {To Brabantio.) 
 If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 
 Vour son-in-law is far more fair than black. 
 
 1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor ! use Desdemona well. 
 
 Bra. Look to her. Moor ; have a quick eye to -see ; 
 She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke. Senators, Officers, §fc. 
 
 0th. My life upon her faith. — Honest Iago, 
 My Desdemona must I leave to thee; 
 I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her ; 
 And bring them after in the best advantage. — 
 Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour 
 Of loxe, of worldly matters and direction. 
 To spend with thee : we must obey the time. 
 
 [Exeunt Othello and De*deatinuu 
 
 Rod. Iago. 
 
 Ia<jo. What sav'st thou, noble heart? 
 
 Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou? 
 
 layo. Why, go to bed, and sleep. 
 
 Rod. I will incontinently drown myself. 
 
 larjo. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee 
 after it. Why, thou silly gentleman ! 
 
 Rod. It is silliness to live, wlien to live is a tor- 
 ment: and then have we a prescription to die, when 
 death is our physician. 
 
 laqo. O villanous ! I have looked upon the world 
 
776 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act TI. 
 
 for four times se-^en years ; and since 1 conld dis- 
 tinguish between a henelit and an injury, I never 
 foiuid a man tliat knew how to love himself. Ere 
 I would say, 1 would drown myself for the love of 
 a Guinea hen, I would change my humanity with a 
 baboon. i 
 
 Rod. \Yliat should I do ? I confess, it is my 
 Bhame to be so fond ; but it is not in virtue to 
 amend it | 
 
 lauo. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we ■■ 
 are tha8, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens ; to 
 the which, our wills are gardeners : so that if we 
 will plant nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, and | 
 weed up thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs, : 
 or distract it with many ; either to have it steril with i 
 idleness, or manured with industry ; why, the power ^ 
 and corrigible authority of this lies in our vvills. If 
 the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason 
 to poise another of sensuality, the blood and base- 
 ness of our natures would conduct us to most pre- 
 posterous conclusions: But we have reason to cool 
 our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted 
 lusts ; whereof I take this, that you call — love, to 
 be a sect, or scion. 
 Rod. It cannot be. 
 
 layo. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a per- 
 mission of the will. Come, be a man: Drown thy- 
 self? drown cats, and blind puppies. I have pro- 
 fessed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy 
 deserving with cables of perdurable toughness ; I 
 could never better stead thee than now. Put money 
 in thy purse; follow these wars ; defeat thy I'avour 
 with an usurped beard ; I say, put money in thy 
 purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long 
 continue her love to the Moor, — put money in thy 
 purse; — nor he his to her: it was a violent com- 
 mencement, and thou shalt see an answerable se- 
 questration ; — i/ut but money in thy purse. — These 
 Muors are changeable in their wills; — fill thy purse 
 with money : the food, that to him now is as luscious 
 as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as colo- 
 quintida. She must change for youth : when she is 
 sated with his body, she will find the error of her 
 choice. — She must have change, she must : there- 
 fore put money in thy purse — If thou wilt needs 
 damu thysi-lf, do it a more delicate way than drown- 
 ing. Make all the money thou canst : if sanctimony 
 and a frail vow, betwixt an erring barbarian and a 
 supersubtle Venetian, be not too hard for my wits, 
 and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her ; there- 
 fore make money. A pox of drowning thyself! it 
 is clean out of the way : seek thou rather to be 
 hanged in compassing thy joy, than to be drowned 
 and go without her. 
 
 Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend 
 on the issue i 
 
 Icigo. Thou art sure of me ; — Go, make money : 
 — I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again 
 and again, I hate the Moor : My cause is hearted ; 
 thine hath no less reason : Let us be conjunctive 
 in our revenge against him : if thou canst cuckold 
 him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. 
 'I'here are many events in the womb of time, which 
 will be delivered. Traverse; go ; provide thy 
 money. We will have more of this to-morrow. 
 Adieu. 
 Rod. Where shall we meet i'the morning? 
 lago. At my lodging. 
 Rod. I'll be with thee betimes. 
 lago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? 
 Rod. What say you ? 
 Ingo. No more of drowning, do you hear. 
 Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all my land. 
 lago. Go to ; iarewell : put money enough in 
 your purse. [Exit Roderigo. 
 
 Thus do I ever make my fool my p\irse : 
 For 1 mine own gain'd knowledge shoidd profane, 
 If I would time expend with such a snipe. 
 But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; 
 And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets 
 
 He has done my ofiice : I know not if it be true ; 
 But I, for mere siis.jiiciou in that kind, 
 Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well ; 
 The better shall my purpose work on him. 
 Cassio's a proper man : Let me see now; 
 To get his place, and to plume up my will; 
 A double knavery, — How? how? — Let me see:— • 
 Alter some time, to abuse Othello's ear, 
 'i'hat he is too familiar with his wife : — 
 He hath a person, and a smooth dispose, 
 To be suspected : fVam'd to make women false. 
 The Moor is of a free and open nature, 
 That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so; 
 And will as tenderly be led by the nose. 
 As asses are. 
 
 I have't; — it is engender'd : — Hell and night 
 Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's liglit. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — A Sea-port Town in Cyprus A Plat- 
 form. 
 
 Enter Montano and Two Gentlemen. 
 
 Mon. What from the cape can you discern at sea.? 
 
 1 Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wro4;gh4 
 Hood ; 
 I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main. 
 Descry a sail. 
 
 Mon. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at 
 land ; 
 A fuller blast tie'er shook our battlements : 
 If it hath ruftian'd so upon the sea. 
 What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on lliem,. 
 Can hold the mortise ? what shall we hear of this? 
 
 '2 Gent. A segregation of the Turkish fleet: 
 For do but stand upon the foaming shore. 
 The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds ; 
 The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstroas 
 
 main. 
 Seems to cast water on the burning bear. 
 And quench the guards of the e\er fixed pole: 
 I never did like molestation view 
 On the enchafed flood. 
 
 Mon. If that the Turkish fleet 
 
 Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; 
 It is impossible they bear it out. 
 
 Enter a Third Gentleman. 
 
 .3 Gent. News, lords ! our wars are done ; 
 The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, 
 That their designment halts : A noble ship of Venice 
 Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufl'erance 
 On most part of their fleet. 
 
 Mo7i. ^ How ! is this true? 
 
 3 Gent. The ship is here put in, 
 A Veronese ; Michael Cassio, 
 Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, 
 Is come on shore : the Moor himsell's at sea. 
 And is in full commission here for Cyprus. 
 
 Mon. I am glad o»rt; 'tis a worthy governor. 
 
 3 Gent. But this same Cassio, — though he speak 
 of comfort. 
 Touching the Turkish loss, — yet he looks sadly, 
 And prays the Moor be safe; for they were jiarted 
 With foul and violent tempest. 
 
 Mon. Pray heaven he be ; 
 
 For I ha\e serv'd him. and the man connnand.s 
 Like a full soldier. Let'.s to the sea-side, ho 
 As well to see the vessel that's cooie in. 
 As throw out our eyes for bra\e Otttello; 
 Even till we make the main, and the aeiiai biuO 
 An indistinct regard. 
 
 3 Gent. Come, let's do so 
 
 For eieiy minute is expectancy 
 Of more arrivance. 
 
 Enter Cassio. 
 Cas. Thanks to the \aliant of this warlike ie?8. 
 That so approve the Moor ; O, let the heavens 
 Gi\e him defence against tiie elements. 
 
Scene 1. 
 
 THE MOOR OP VENICE. 
 
 Y77 
 
 For I ha^e lost liiin on a dangerous sea, 
 
 Moil. Is he well shijjp'd? 
 
 Cos. His bark is stmitly tiiiibpr'd, and his pilot 
 ()r\fry expeitaiid approv'd allowance; 
 Therefore tny liopes, not siirteiled to death, 
 Stand in hold cure. 
 
 {Within.) A sail, a sail, a sail ! 
 
 Enter another Gentleman. 
 
 C(Ts. What noise ? 
 
 4 Gefit. The town is empty ; on the brow o'tiie sea 
 Stand ranks of people, and they cry — a sail. 
 
 Cas. My hopes do siiape him for the fjovernor. 
 
 2 Gent. They do discharge tiieirshot of com tesy ; 
 
 {Guns heard. 
 Oiir friends, at least. 
 
 Cos. I pray yon, sir, go forth, 
 
 And cive ns truth who 'tis that is arriv'd. 
 
 2 Gent. 1 shall. [Exit. 
 
 Mun. But, giiod lieutenant, is yonr general wi\'d? 
 
 Cas. Most fortunately : he hath achiev'd a maid, 
 That paragons description, and wild fame ; 
 One, that excels the quirks of blazoning pens. 
 And in the essential ve.sture of creation, [in : 
 
 Does bear ail excellency.— How now? who has put 
 
 Re-enter Second Gentleman. 
 
 2 Gent. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general. 
 
 Cas. He has had most favourable and happy 
 speed : 
 Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds. 
 The giitter'd rocks, and congregated sands, — 
 Traitors ensteep'd to clog the gniltless keel, — 
 As having sense of beauty, do omit 
 Their mortal natures, letting go safely by 
 The divine Desdemona. 
 
 Mon. What is she ? 
 
 Cas. She, that I spake of, our great captain's 
 captain, 
 Left in the conduct of the bold lago; 
 Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, 
 A se'nni;ilit"s speed. — Great Jove, Othello guard, 
 And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath; 
 Tiiat he may bless this bay with his tall ship. 
 Make lo\ e's quick pants in Desdemona's arms. 
 Give renew'd tire to our extincted spirits. 
 And bring all Cyprus comtiirt I — O, behold, 
 
 Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Rodeiiigo, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 The riches of the ship is come on shore ! 
 Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees: — 
 Hail to thee, lady ! and the grace of heaven, 
 Before, behind thee, and on every hand, 
 Enwheel thee round ! 
 
 Des. I thank yon, valiant Cassio. 
 
 What tidings can you tell me of my lord ? 
 
 Cas. He is not yet arriv'd ; nor know I aught 
 But that he's well, and will be shortly here. 
 
 Des. O, but I fear; — How lost yon company ? 
 
 Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies 
 Parted our fellowship: But, hark ! a sail. 
 
 {Cry tvithin . A sail, a sail! Then guns heard.) 
 
 2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel ; 
 Tliis likewise is a friend. 
 
 Cas. See for the news. 
 
 [Exit Gentleman. 
 Good ancient, you are welcome ; — Welcome, mis- 
 tress : — • [To Emilia.) 
 Let it not gall your patience, good lago. 
 That I extend my manners ; 'tis my breeding 
 That gives me this bold shew of courtesy. 
 
 {Kissing her.) 
 
 Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips, 
 As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, 
 You'd have enough. ■ , 
 
 Ves. Alas, she has no speech. 
 
 Iago. In faith, too much ; 
 I find it still, when I have list to sleep • 
 Marry, belbre your ladyship, I grant. 
 
 She puts her tongue a little in lier heart. 
 And chides with thinking. 
 
 Emil. You have little cause to say so. 
 
 Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out of 
 doors, 
 Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens. 
 Saints in your injuries, devils being olVended, 
 Players in your housewifery, and housewiv°s ia 
 your beds. 
 
 Des. O. fy u[)on thee, slanderer! 
 
 Iago. Nay. it is true, or else 1 am a Turk; 
 You rise to play, and go to bed to work, 
 
 Emil. You sliall not write my praise. 
 
 Iago. No, let me not. 
 
 Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou 
 should'st praise me ? 
 
 Iago. O, gentle lady, do not put me to't; 
 For I am nothing, if not critical. 
 
 Des. Come on. assay : — There's one gone to the 
 harbour? 
 
 Iago. .Ay, madam. 
 
 Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile 
 The thing I aui, by seeming otherwise. — 
 Come, how would'st thoi/ praise me ^ 
 
 Iago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention 
 Conies from my pate, as birdlime does from frize, 
 It plucks out brains and all ; But my muse labours. 
 And thus she is deliver'd. 
 If she be fair and wise, — fairness and wit, 
 'i'lie one's for use, the other usf-th it. fwitty ? 
 
 Des^ VV^ell prais'd ! How if she be black and 
 
 Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit. 
 She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. 
 
 Des. Worse and worse. 
 
 Emil. How, if fair and foolish ? 
 
 Iago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; 
 For even her folly help'd her to an heir. 
 
 Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make fools 
 laugh i'the alehouse. What miserable praise hast 
 thou for her that's foul and foolish ? 
 
 Iago. There's none so foul, and foolish there 
 unto. 
 But does foul pranks, which fair and wise ones do. 
 
 Des. O heavy ignorance! — thou praisestthe worst 
 best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a 
 deserving woman indeed? one, that, in the autho- 
 rity of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very 
 malice itself? 
 
 Iago. Slie that was ever fair, and never proud; 
 Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud; , 
 
 Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay; 
 Fled from her wish, and yet said, — now I may , 
 She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh. 
 Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly ; 
 She that in wisdom never was .so frail, 
 'i'o change the cod's head for the salmon's tail ; 
 She that could tiiink, and ne'er disclose her mind. 
 See suitors following, and not look behind ; 
 She was a wight, — if ever such wight were, — 
 
 Des. To do what ? 
 
 Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer. 
 
 Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion ! — Do 
 not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. 
 — How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane 
 and liberal counsellor? 
 
 Cas. He speaks home, madam ; you may relish 
 him more in the soldier, than in the scholar. 
 
 Iago. {Aside.) He takes her by the palm : .Ay, well 
 
 said, whisper : with as little a v\eb as this, will I 
 
 ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, 
 
 do;! will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You 
 
 say true: 'tis so, indeed : il such tricks as these strip 
 
 I you out of yiMir lieutenantry. it had been better you 
 
 I had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now 
 
 1 again you are most apt to play the sir in. Very good ; 
 
 well kissed ! an excellent courtesv ! 'tis so. indeed. 
 
 Yet a^ain your lingers to your lips':" would, they 
 
 were cKster-pipes lor your sake ! {Trumpet.) The 
 
 Moor, 1 know his tiumpct. 
 
 Cas. ' lis truly so. 
 
V78 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act TL 
 
 Des. Let's meet him, and receive him. 
 Cas. Lo, wiiere he comes I 
 
 "Enter Othello, and Attendants. 
 
 0th. O my fair warrior ! 
 
 Des. My dear Othello! 
 
 0th. It gives me wonder, great as my content. 
 To see you here before me. O my soul's joy J 
 If after every tempest come such calms. 
 May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! 
 And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 
 Olympiis-hiph ; and duck again as low 
 As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 
 'Twere now to be most happy ; for, I fear. 
 My soul hath lier content so absolute, 
 'i'hat n it another comfort like to this 
 Sflcceeds in unkuovvu fate. 
 
 J)es. The heavens forbid. 
 
 But tliatwir loves and comforts should increase, 
 Even as our days do grow ! 
 
 Olh. Amen to that, sweet powers I — 
 
 I cwmot speak enough of this content, 
 It stops me here ; it is too much of joy : 
 And this, and this, the greatest discords be, 
 
 (Kissing her.) 
 That e'er our hearts shall make ! 
 
 lago. O, you are well tun'd now ! 
 
 But 111 set down the pegs that make this music. 
 As honest as I am. {Aside.) 
 
 0th. Come, let's to the castle. — 
 
 News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks are 
 
 drown'd. 
 How do our old acquaintance of this isle? — 
 Honey, yoii shall be well desir'd at Cyprus, 
 I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, 
 I prattle out of fashion, and 1 dote 
 fo mine own comforts. — I pr'ythee, good lago, 
 fJo to the bay, and disembarlt my cotfers : 
 Bring thou ti'ie master to the ciladel ; 
 He is a gOiid one, and his worthiness 
 Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desdemona, 
 Once more well met at Cyprus. 
 
 [Exeunt 0th. Des. and Attend. 
 
 layo. Do thou meet me presently at tiie harbour. 
 Come hither. If thou be'st valiant, as (tliey say) 
 base men, being in lo\e, have then a nobility in their 
 natures \nore than is n itive to them, — list me. The 
 lieutenant to-night watches on the coiu't of guard : — 
 First, i must tell thee this — Desdemona is directly 
 in loie with hiiu. 
 
 Rod. With him! why 'tis not possible. 
 
 Ia</o. Lay thy linger — thus, and let thy soul be 
 instructed. Mark me with what violence she first 
 loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fan- 
 tastical lies: And will she love him still for prating? 
 let not tliy discreet heart think it. Her eye must i 
 be fed ; and what delight shall she ha\e to look on 
 the devil ? When the blood is made dull with the 
 act of sport, tliere sliould be, — again to inHame it, 
 and to give satiety a fresh appetite, — loveliness iu 
 favour; sympathy in years, manners, and beauties ; 
 all which the Moor is defective in: Now, for want of 
 these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness 
 will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, 
 disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will 
 instruct her in it, and compel her to some second 
 choice. Now, sir, this granted, (as it is a most 
 pregnant anil ulkforced positio.i,) who stands so emi- 
 nently in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio dues f 
 a kuave very voluble; no further conscioicable, tuan 
 in putting on the mere form of civil and humane 
 seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and 
 most hidden loose affection? why, none; why, none: 
 A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of oc- 
 casions ; that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit 
 advantages, though true advantage never present 
 itself: A devilish knave ! besides, tlie knave isiiand- 
 sonie, young; and hath all those requisites in him, 
 timi folly and green minds look after : A pestilent 
 
 complete kuave ; and the woman liath found him 
 already. 
 
 Rod. I cannot believe that in her; she is full of 
 most blessed condition. 
 
 lago. Blessed fig's end ! the wine she drinks is 
 made of grapes : if she had been blessed, she would 
 never have loved the Moor : Blessed pudding I Didst 
 thou not see her paddle with tlie palm of his hand ? 
 didst not mark that ? 
 
 Rod. Yea, that I did ; but that was but courtesy. 
 
 lago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index, and ob- 
 scure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. 
 They met so near with their lips, that Uieir breaths 
 embraced together. Villanous thoughta, lloderigo ! 
 when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at 
 hand comes the master and main exercise, the incor- 
 porate conclusion : Fish ! — But, "ir, be yo>i ruled by 
 me : I have brought you from Venice. Watch you 
 to-night; for the command, I'll lay't upon yon: 
 Cassio knows you not; — I'll not be far from you: 
 Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by 
 speaking too loud, or tainting his disci|iline ; or 
 from what other course you please, which the time 
 shall more favourably minister. 
 
 Rod. Well. 
 
 lago. Sir. he is rash, and very sudden in choler ; 
 and, haply, with his truncheon may strike at you: 
 Provoke him, that he may : for, even out of that, will 
 [ cause these of Cyprus to muliny ; whose qiialilization 
 shall coine into no true taste again, but by the 
 displanting ol Cassio. So shall you iiave a shorter 
 journey to your desires, by the means I shall then 
 have to prefer them ; and the impediment most pro- 
 fitably removed, without the which there were in> 
 expectation of our prosperity. 
 
 Rod. I will do this, if I can bring it to any op- 
 portunity. 
 
 lago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at 
 the citadel : I must fetch his necessaries asiiore. 
 Farewell. 
 
 Rod. Adieu. [Exit. 
 
 lago. 'J'hat Cassio loves her, I do well believe it ; 
 That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit: 
 The Moor — howbtit that I endure him not, — 
 Is of a constant, loving, noble nature ; 
 And, I dare think, he'll i>rove to Desdemona 
 A most dear husband. Now I do love her too; 
 Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure, 
 I stand accountant lor as great a siD,j 
 But partly led to diet my revenge. 
 Fur that I do suspect the lusty Moor 
 Hath leap'd into my seat: the thought whereof 
 Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards ; 
 And nothing can or shall content my soul, 
 Till 1 am even with him, wife for wife : 
 Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
 At least into a jealousy so strong. 
 That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,r— 
 If tills poor trash of Venice, whom 1 trash 
 For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
 I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ; 
 Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb, — 
 For I fi'ar Cassio with my night-cap too; 
 Make the Moor thank nie, love me, and reward me. 
 For making him e^regiously an ass. 
 And practising upon liis peace and quiet 
 Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confus'd ; 
 Knavery's plain face is never seen, till us'd. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II.-— .4 Street. 
 
 Enter a Herald, with a proclamation ; People 
 following. 
 Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and va- 
 liant general that, upon certain tidings now arriv ed, 
 importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, 
 every man put liriiiself into triumph ; some to dance, 
 some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and 
 revels his addiction leads hiin ; for, besiiles these 
 beneficial news, it is tlie celebration of his niii)tials : 
 So much was liis pleasure should be proclaimed. All 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 779 
 
 offices are open ; and there is full liberty of feasting, 
 from this present hour of five, till tlie bell hath told 
 eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus, and our 
 noble general, Othello! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — A Hall in the Castle. 
 Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and 
 A ttendants. 
 0th. Good Michael, look you to the guard to- 
 night : 
 L."ts teach ourselves that honourable stop, 
 Niil to out-sport discretion. 
 
 Cas. lago has direction what to do; 
 Rut, notwithstanding, with my personal eye 
 Wi^l I lookto't. 
 
 Otk. I ago is most honest. 
 I'VIichael, good-n-ght: Tomorrow, with our earliest, 
 Lft me have speech with you. — Come, my dear 
 
 love. 
 The purchase made, the fraits are to ensue ; 
 
 {To Desdemona.) 
 That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you. — 
 Good-ni^ht. [Exeunt 0th. Des. and Attend, 
 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 Cas. Welcome, Iago : We must to the watch. 
 Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten 
 o'clock: Our general cast us thus early, for tlie love 
 of his Desdemona ; whom let us not therefore blame ; 
 he hath not yet made wanton the night with her : and 
 she is sport for Jove. 
 
 Cas. She's a most exquisite lady. 
 
 Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game. 
 
 Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate 
 creature. 
 
 Iago. What an eye she has ! methinks it sounds a 
 parley of provocation. 
 
 Ciis. An inviting eye ; and yet, methinks, right 
 modest. [love ? 
 
 Iago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarm to 
 • Cas. She is, indeed, perfection. 
 
 Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets ! Come, 
 tieuteiiiiiit, I ha\e a stoop of vvine : and here without 
 aie a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have 
 a me:ts ire to the health of the black Othello. 
 
 Cas. Not to-night, good Iago ; 1 have very poor 
 and unhappy brains for drinking : I could well 
 wish courtesy would Invent some other custom of 
 entertainment. 
 
 Iago. O, they are our friends ; but one cup : I'll 
 drink for you. 
 
 Cas I have drunk but one cup to-night, and 
 that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what 
 innovafron it makes here : I am unfortunate in the 
 infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any 
 more. 
 
 Iago. What, man! 'tis a night of revels; the gal- 
 lants desire it. 
 
 Cas. Where are they ? 
 
 Iago. Here at the door: I pray you, call them in. 
 
 Cas. I'll do it, but it dislikes me. [Exit. 
 
 Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him. 
 With that which he hath drunk to-night already. 
 He'll be as full of quarrel and ollVnce 
 As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool, 
 Iloderigo, [ward, 
 
 Whom love has tnrn'd almost the wrong side out- 
 To Desdemona hath to night carous'd 
 Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch : 
 Three lads of Cyprus, — noble swelling spirits. 
 That hold their honours in a wary distance, 
 I'he very elements of this warlike isle, — 
 Hive I to-night fliister'd with flowing cups, 
 And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of 
 
 drunkards. 
 Am I to put our Cassio in some action 
 That may otfeiid the isle: — But here they come : 
 If consequence do but appro\e my dream. 
 My boat sails freely bota with wind and stream. 
 
 Be enter Cassio, with him Montano, and Gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 Cas. 'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse 
 already. 
 
 Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint, as 
 I am a soldier. 
 
 Iago. Some wine, ho I 
 
 A)id let me the canakin clinic, clink; {Sings.) 
 And let me the canakin clink : 
 
 A soldier's a man ; 
 
 A life's but a span ; 
 Whij then, let a soldier drink. 
 
 Some wine, boys ! [Wine Iroitght hC 
 
 Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song. 
 
 Iago. I learned it in England, where (indeed) they 
 are most potent in potting : your Dane, your G^'rman, 
 and your swag-bellied Hollander, — Drink, ho ! — are 
 nothing to your English. 
 
 Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking ? 
 
 Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your 
 Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your 
 Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere' the 
 next pottle can be filled. 
 
 Cas. To the health of our general. [justice. 
 
 3Ion. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do yoa 
 
 Iago. O sweet England ! 
 
 King Stephen teas a icorthy peer. 
 His breeches cost him but a crown ; 
 
 He held them sixpe7ice all tou dear 
 With that he call'd the tailor— town. 
 
 He was a tv'ight of high renown. 
 
 And thou art but of low degree : 
 'Tis pride that pulls the country down, 
 Then take thine auld cloak about thee. 
 Some vvine, bo ! 
 
 Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the 
 other. 
 
 Iago. Will you hear it again ? 
 
 Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his 
 place, that does those things. — Well, — Heaven's 
 above all; and there be souls that must be saved, 
 and there be souls must not be saved. 
 
 Iago. It's true, good lieutenant. 
 
 Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the ge- 
 neral, nor any man of quality, — I hope to be saved. 
 
 Iago. And so do 1 too, lieutenant. 
 
 Cas. Ay, but, by your lea\ e, not before me : the 
 lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's 
 have no more of this ; let's to our affairs. — For;;ive 
 us our sins! — Gentlemen, let's look to our business. 
 Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk ; this is my 
 ancient : — this is my light hand, and this is my left 
 hand: — I am not drunk now; I can stand well 
 enough, and speak well enough. 
 
 All. Excellent well. 
 
 Cas. Why, very well, then: you must not think 
 then that I am drunk. [Exit. 
 
 Mon. To the platform, masters; come, lets set 
 the watch. 
 
 Iago. You, see this fellow that is gone before ;— 
 He is a soldier, fit to stand by Caesar 
 And give direction ; and do but see his vice ; 
 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox. 
 The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. 
 I fear, the trust Othello puts him in, 
 On some odd time of his infirmity. 
 Will shake this island. 
 
 Mon. But is he often thus? 
 
 Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep : 
 He'll watch the horologe a double set. 
 If drink rock not his cradle. 
 
 Mon. It were well. 
 
 The general were put in mind of it. 
 Perha a, he sees it not ; or his good nature 
 Prizes the virtue tliat appears in Cassio, 
 And looks not on his ("vils : Is not this true f 
 
780 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IL 
 
 Aside.) 
 
 Enter Roderico. 
 lago. How now, Roderigo ? 
 ( pray you, ai'ter the lieuteuaut ; go. 
 
 {Exit Roderigo.) 
 Man. And 'tis great piiy, that the noble Moor, 
 Should hazard snch a place, as his own second 
 With one of an ingraft inlirmity : 
 It were an honest action, to say 
 •So to the Moor. 
 
 lago. Not 1 , for this fair island : 
 
 I do love Cassio well ; and would do much 
 To cure him of this evil. liut hark ! what noise ? 
 
 [Cry tvithin, — Holp ! help !) 
 
 Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. 
 Cas. You rogue ! you rascal ! 
 Mon What's the matter, lieutenant 
 Cas. A knave ! — teach me my duly ! 
 I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. 
 Rod. Beat me ! 
 Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue ? 
 
 [Striking Roderigo 
 Mon. Nay, good lieutenant; [Staying him, 
 
 I pray you, Sir, hold your hand. 
 
 Cas. Let me go, sir. 
 
 Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. 
 
 Mon. Come, come, you're drunk. 
 
 Cas. Drunk! [They fight.) 
 
 logo Away, I say ! go out, and cry — a uuitiny. 
 [Aside, to Rod. who goes out.) 
 Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen, — 
 Help, ho! — Lieutenant, — sir, Montano, — sir; — 
 tjelp, masters I — Here's a goodly watch, indeed! 
 
 [Bell rings.) 
 Who's that that rings the bell ?— Diable, ho ! 
 The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant! hold; 
 You will be sharn'd for ever. 
 
 E/iier Otiiello, and Attendants. 
 0th. What is the matter here ? 
 
 Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death ; — he 
 
 dies. 
 0th. Hold, for your lives. 
 
 lago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, — sir, Montano, — 
 gentleuK-n, — 
 Have you (orgot all sense of place and duty? 
 Hold, hold I the general speaks to you ; hold, for 
 shame'. [this? 
 
 0th. Why. how now, ho I from whence ariseth 
 Are we tiirn'd Turks; and to ourselves do that, 
 Which henven hath forbid the Otton.ites ? 
 For christian &liame, put by this barbarous brawl : 
 He that stirs next to carve for his own rage, 
 Holds his soul light ; he dies upon his motion. — 
 Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle 
 From her propriety. — What is the matter, mas- 
 ters? — 
 Honest lago, that look'st dead with grieving. 
 Speak, who began this? on thy lo\e I ciiarge thee. 
 la.^o. I do not know ; — friends all but now, even 
 now. 
 In quarter, and iu terms like bride and groom 
 Divesting them for bed : and tlien, but now 
 (As if some planet had unwitted men,) 
 Swordr. out, and tilting one at other's breast, 
 In opposition bloorly. 1 cannot speak 
 Any beginning to this pee\ish odds ; 
 And 'would in action glorious I had lost 
 These U'gs, that brought me to a part of it! 
 
 0th. How comes it Michael, you are thus forgot? 
 Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak._ 
 0th. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil ; 
 The gravity and stillness of your youth 
 The world hath noted, and >our name is great 
 In mouths of wisest censure ; What's the matter. 
 That you unlace your reputation tiius. 
 And spend your rich opmion, for the name 
 Of a niijht-brawler? Give me answer to it. 
 
 Mon. Worthy Othello. I am hurt to danger ; 
 Your (ilficer, lago, can inionn you — [me — 
 
 While I spare speech which somethiagnow oftends 
 
 Of all that I do know : nor know I aught 
 By me that's said or done amiss this night' 
 Unless self-charity be sometime a vice ; 
 And to defend ourselves it be a sin. 
 When violence assails us. 
 
 0th. Now, by heaven^ ■ 
 
 My blood begins my safer guides to rule ; 
 And passion, having my best judgment collied^ 
 Assays to lead the way : if I once stir, 
 Or do but lift this arm, the best of you 
 Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to kuow 
 How this foul rout began, who set it on 
 And he that is approv'd in this otfence. 
 Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birtb, 
 Shall lose me. — What! in a town of war, 
 Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, 
 To manage private and domestic quarrel. 
 In night, and on the court and guard of safety ! 
 'Tis monstrous. — lago, who began it? 
 
 Mon. If partially atfin'd, or leagu'd in office. 
 Thou dost deliver more or less than truth. 
 Thou art no soldier. 
 
 lago. Touch me not so near : 
 
 I had rather hax e this tongue cut from my mouth, 
 Than it should do oU'ence to Michael Cassio; 
 Vet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth 
 Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it is, genera 
 Montano and mvself being in speech. 
 There comes a fellow crying out for help*, 
 And Cassio fiiUowing him with determin'd sword. 
 To execute upon him : Sir, this gentleman 
 Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ; 
 Myself the crying fellow did pursue. 
 Lest, by his clamour, (as it so fell out.) 
 The town might fall in fright ; he, swift of foot, 
 Outran my purpose ; and I return'd, the rather 
 For that I heard the clink and fatl of swords, 
 And Cassio high in oath ; which, till tonight, 
 I ne'er might say before : When I came back, 
 (For this was biief.) I found them close together, • 
 At blow and thrust ; ev(n as again they were. 
 When you yourself did part them. 
 More of this matter can I not report: — 
 But men are men ; the best sometimes forget: — 
 Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, — 
 As men in rage strike those that wish then* best,— 
 Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, receiv'd. 
 From him that fled, some strange indignity, 
 Which patience could not pass. 
 
 0th. I know, lago. 
 
 Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter. 
 Making it light to Cassio : — Cassio, I love thee ; 
 But never more be officer^of mine. — 
 
 Enter Desbemona, attended. 
 
 Look, if my gentle love be not rais'd up ;— 
 I'll make thee an example. 
 
 Des. What's the matter, dear ? 
 
 0th. -Mi's well now, sweeting ; Come away to bed. 
 Sir, for your hurts. 
 Myself will be your surgeon : Lead him off. 
 
 [To Montano, who is led off.) 
 lago, look with care about the town ; 
 And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. — 
 Come, Desdemona ; 'tis the soldiers' lile, 
 To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife. 
 
 I Exeunt all but lago and Cassio. 
 
 lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? 
 
 Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 
 
 lago. Marry, heaven forbid ! 
 
 Cos. Reputation, reputation, reputation ! O, I 
 have lost my reputation ! I have lost tlie immortal 
 part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial. — 
 My reputation, lago, my reputation. 
 
 lago. -A.S I am an honest man, 1 thought you had 
 received some bodily wound; tliere is more otlence 
 in that, than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and 
 most false imposition; oft got without merit, and 
 lost \\ithout deserving : You have lost no reputation 
 at all, uules.s you repute yourself such a kser. 
 
Act hi. Scene 1. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 781 
 
 VVhat, mau ! there are ways to recover the general 
 again : \ on are but now cast in his mood, a punish- 
 ment more in policy tl.an in malice ; even so as 
 one would beat ins ortenceless dog, to aflVight an 
 imperious lion sue to him again, and lie's your's. 
 
 Cas. 1 wil' rather sue to be despised, than to 
 deceive so j<ood a commander, with so slight, so 
 drunken, and so indiscreet an oilicer. Drunk ? and 
 speak parrot ? and squabble;' sungger ? swear ? and 
 discourse fustinn with one"s own shadow ? — O thou 
 invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be 
 known by, let us call thee — devil 1 
 
 lar^'O. What was he that you followed with your 
 sword '.' What had he done to yon ? ■ 
 Ciis, I know not. 
 I"gn. Is it possible V 
 
 Cas. [ remember a mass of things, but nothing 
 distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. — O, 
 that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to' 
 steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, 
 revel, pleasure, and applause, translbrm ourselves 
 into beasts ! 
 
 layo. Why, but you are now well enough : How 
 came you thus recovered ? 
 
 Cas. It hatli pleased the devil, drunkenness, to 
 give place to the devil, wrath : one imperfectness 
 shews me another, to make me frankly despise my- 
 self. 
 
 lago. Come, you are too severe a moraier : 'As 
 the time, the place, and the condition of this coun- 
 try stands, I could heartily wish this had not be- 
 fallen ; but since it is as it is, mend it for your ovvn 
 good. 
 
 Cas. I will ask him for my place again; he shall 
 tell me, I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as 
 Hydra, such an answer would stop tlieui all. To he 
 now a sensible man, by and by a Ibol, and presently 
 a beast ! O slranoe ! — Every inordinate cup is un- 
 blessfd, and the ingredient is a devil. 
 
 Jai/o. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar 
 creature, if it be well used ; exclaim no more against 
 it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think I love 
 you. 
 
 Cas. I have well approved it, sir. — I drunk ! 
 layo. You, or any man living, may be dnmk at 
 some time, man. I II tell you what you shall do. 
 Our general's wife is now the general ; — I may say 
 80 in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given 
 up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denote- 
 ment of her parts and graces; — Confess yourself 
 freely to her ; importune her; she'll help to put you 
 in your place ag;iiu : she is of so free, so kind, so 
 apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice 
 in her goodness, not to do more than she is requested : 
 This broken joint, between you and her husband, 
 entreat her to splinter ; and, my fortinies against any 
 lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow 
 stronger than it was before. 
 Cas. You advise me well. 
 
 layo. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and ho- 
 nest kindness. 
 
 Cas. I think it freely ; and, betimes in the murii- 
 ing, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to un 
 dertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes, if 
 they check me here. 
 
 iayo. V'ou are in the right. Good-night, lieute- 
 nant; I must to the watch. 
 
 Cas. Oood-night, honest lago. [Exit, 
 
 layo. And what's he then, that says,— I play the 
 villain'/ 
 When this advice is free, I give, and honest, 
 Probal to thmking, ami (indeed) the course 
 Tov\in 1,0 Moor again? For 'tis mosl easy 
 The inclining Desdemona to subdue 
 In any honest suit; she's Irain'd as fruitful 
 As the iree elements. And then for her 
 'l\> vviii the iMour, — iveret to renounce his aptism. 
 All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,— 
 li.t', soul is so enf tier'd to her love, 
 TnaV a, it m.iy m.ike, unmake, do wli.it she list, 
 
 Even as her appetite shah ))lay the goti 
 
 VVith his weak function. How am I then a villain 
 
 To counsel Cassiotothis parallel course 
 
 Directly to his good ? Divinity of hell ! 
 
 When devils will their blackest sins put on. 
 
 'I'hey do suggest at tiist with heavenly shews. 
 
 As I do now : For while this hcmest fool 
 
 Plies Desdemona to repair his fortuneo, 
 
 And she for him pleads strons^ly to the Moor, 
 
 I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, — 
 
 That she repeals him for her body's lust ; 
 
 -4nd, by how much she strives to do him good, 
 
 She shall undo her credit with the Moor. 
 
 So will I turn her virtue into pitch; 
 
 And out of her own goodness make the net, 
 
 That shall enmesh them all.— How now, lloderigo? 
 
 Enter Roderigo. 
 
 Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a 
 hound that hunts, but one that tills up the crv. My 
 money is almost spent ; I have been to-night ex- 
 ceedingly well cudgelled ; and, I think, the issue 
 will be — I shall have so much experience fur my 
 pains: and so, with no money at all, and a little 
 more wit, return to Venice. 
 
 layo. How poor are they, that have not patience! — 
 What wound did ever heal, but by degrees '/ 
 Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witch- 
 craft ; 
 .'^nd wit depends on dilatory time. 
 Does't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee. 
 And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio : 
 l^hough other things grow fair against the sun. 
 Yet fruits, that blossom first, will first be ripe ; 
 Content thyself awhile. — By the mass, 'tis morning; 
 Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem short. — 
 Retire thee ; go where thou art billetted : 
 Away, I say ; thou shall know more hereafter. 
 Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Rod.\ Two things are to 
 
 be done, — 
 My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ; 
 I'll set her on ; 
 
 Myself, the while, to draw the Moor apart, 
 And bring him jump when he may Cassio find 
 Soliciting his wife : — Ay, that's the way ; 
 Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene \.~Before the Castle. 
 Enter Cassio, and some Musicians. 
 Cas. Masters, play here, I will content your pains. 
 Something that's brief; and bid — goud-morrow, 
 general. (Music.) 
 
 Enter Clown. 
 
 Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been 
 at Naples, that they speak i'the nose thus? 
 
 1 Mtis. How, sir, how? [ments? 
 
 Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind instru- 
 
 1 Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir. 
 
 Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail. 
 
 1 Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? 
 
 Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that 
 I know. But, masters, here's money for you : and 
 the general so likes your music, that he desires you 
 of all loves, to make no more noise with it. 
 
 1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not. 
 
 Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard, 
 to't again : but, as they say, to hear music, the genera! 
 does not greatly care. 
 
 I Mus. We have none such, sir. 
 
 Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll 
 away : Go; vanish into air ; away. 
 
 [Exetint Musician* 
 
 Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest Iriend ? 
 
 Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend ; [ hear yon. 
 
 Cat. Pr'ythee, keep up thy (piillets. Thfre'a a 
 j)Oor piece of gold ttu" tliee ; it the gentlewomin, that 
 alteii'ls t!;e g^'n^-rr^l's wit'e, be stirring, tell her there'* 
 
782 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act in. 
 
 one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech : 
 Wilt tliou do this? 
 
 Clo. She is stirring-, sir; if she will stir hither, I 
 shall seem to notify unto lier. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 Cos. Do, good my friend. — In happy time, Iago. 
 
 larjo. You have not been a-bed, then? 
 
 Cas. Wliy, no ; the day had broke 
 Before we parted, i have made bold, Iago, 
 'I o stnd in to your wife : My suit to her 
 Is, that she will to virtuolis Desdemona 
 Procure nie some access. 
 
 Iago. I'll send her to you presently; 
 
 And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor 
 Out of the way, that your converse and business 
 May be more free. [Exit. 
 
 Cas. I humbly thank you for't. I never knew 
 A Florentine more kind and honest. 
 
 Enter EmLiA. 
 
 Emil. Good-morrow, goad lieutenant: I am sorry 
 For your displeasure ; but all will soon be well. 
 Tiie general, and his wife, are talkiiig of it; 
 And she speaks for you stoutly : 'J'he Moor replies, 
 'i'hat he, you hurt, is of great fame in Cyprus, 
 And great affinity ; and that, in wholesome wisdom, 
 He might not but refuse you: but, he protests, he 
 
 loves you ; 
 And needs no other suitor, but his likings, 
 To take the safst occasion by the front. 
 To bnng you in again. 
 
 Cas. Yet, I beseech you, — 
 
 If you think fit, or that it may be done, — 
 Give me advantage of some brief discourse 
 With Uesdemona alone. 
 
 Emil. Pray you, come in ; 
 
 I will bestow you where you shall have time 
 To s|jeak your bosom freely. 
 
 Cas. I am much bound to you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter Otiiello, Iago, and Gentlemen. 
 0th. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; 
 And, by him, do my duties to the state: 
 That done, 1 will be walking on the works; 
 Ile|)air there to me. 
 
 layo. Well, my good lord, I'll do't. 
 
 0th. This fortification, gentlemen,— shall we see't? 
 Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Before the Castle. 
 Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilu 
 
 Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do 
 All my abilities in thy behalf [husband, 
 
 Emil. Good madam, do ; I know it grieves my 
 As if the case were his. [Cassio, 
 
 Des. O, that's an honest fellow.— Do not doubt, 
 But 1 will have my lord and you again 
 As friendly as you were. 
 
 Cas. Bounteous madam. 
 
 Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, 
 He's never any thing but your true servant. 
 
 Des. O, sir, I thank you : You do love my lord : 
 You have known him long ; and be you well assur'd. 
 He shall in strangeness stand no further off 
 Than in a politic distance. 
 
 Cas. Ay, but, lady 
 
 That policy may either last so long. 
 Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet. 
 Or breed itself so out of circumstance. 
 That, 1 being absent, and my place supplied, 
 My general will forget my love and service. 
 
 Des. Do not doubt that; before Emilia here, 
 I give thee warrant of thy place : assure thee 
 If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it 
 To the last article: my lord shall never rest; 
 I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience ; 
 His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrilt; 
 I'll intermingle every thing he does 
 
 '[ With Cassio's suit: Therefore be merry, Oassid, 
 For thy solicitor shall rather die. 
 Than give thy cause away. 
 
 Enter Othello and Iago, at a distance, 
 
 Emil. Madam, here comes 
 
 My lord. 
 
 Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave. 
 
 Des. Why, stay. 
 
 And hear me speak. 
 
 Cas. Madam, not now ; I am very ill at ease, 
 Unfit lor mine own purposes. 
 
 Des. Well, well. 
 
 Do your discretion. [Exit Cassio, 
 
 Iago. Ha ! I like not that. 
 
 Otli. What dost thou say ? 
 
 Iago. Nothing, my lord : or if — I know not what. 
 
 Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife ? 
 
 Iago. Cassio, my lord ? No, sure, I cannot think it. 
 That he would steal away so guilty-like. 
 Seeing you coming. 
 
 Otu. I do believe 'twas he. 
 
 Des. How now, my lord .'' 
 I have been talking with a suitor here, 
 A man that languishes in your displeasure. 
 
 Oth. Who is't you mean ? 
 
 Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord. 
 If I have any grace, or power to move you. 
 His present reconciliation take ; 
 For, if he be not one that truly loves you. 
 That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning, 
 I have no judgment in an honest face : 
 I pr'ythee, call him back. 
 
 Oth. Went he hence now? 
 
 Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled. 
 That he hath left part of his grief with me; 
 I suffer with him. Good love, call him back. 
 
 Oth. Not DOW, sweet Desdemona ; some otlier time. 
 
 Des. But shall't be sliortly ? 
 
 Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. 
 
 Des. Shall't be to night at supper ? 
 
 Oth. No, not to-night. 
 
 Des. To-morrow dinner then '' 
 
 Oth. I shall not dine at home; 
 
 I meet the captains at the citadel. [loorn; 
 
 Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or Tui-sday 
 Or Tuesday n ;on, or night; or Wednesday morn ; — 
 I pray thee, name the time ; but let it not 
 Exceed three days: in fiilli, he's penitent; 
 And yet his trespass, in our common reason, 
 (Save that, they say, the wars must make examples 
 Out of their best,) is not almost a fault 
 To incur a private check : When shall he come''* 
 Tell me, Otiiello. 1 wonder in my soul. 
 What you could ask me, that i should deny. 
 Or stand so mauimeriiig on. VVhat ! Michael Cassio, 
 That came a wooing with you; and many a time, 
 When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, 
 Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do 
 To bring him in '. Trust me, I could do much, — 
 
 Oth. Pr'ythee, no more ; let him come when he 
 I will deny thee nothing, [will; 
 
 Des. Why, this is not a boon ; 
 
 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves. 
 Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm; 
 Or sue to you to do peculiar profit 
 To your own person: Nay, when I have a suit. 
 Wherein 1 mean to touch your love indeed. 
 It shall be full of poise and diliiculty. 
 And fearful to be granted. 
 
 Oth. I will deny thee nothing 
 
 Wliereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this. 
 To leave me but a little to myself 
 
 Des. Shall I deny you? no: Farewell, my lord. 
 
 Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona : I will come to 
 thee straight. . ly^u ? 
 
 Des. Emilia, couie : — Be it as your fancies teach 
 Whate'er you be, lam obedient. 
 
 lExit, with Emiha. 
 
 Oth. Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, 
 
 I 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 783 
 
 at I do lo\ e Uit- e ! and, when 1 love tnee not, 
 Chaos is come again. 
 
 Inr/o My noble lord, — 
 
 0th. What dost thou say, lago' 
 
 lago- Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my 
 lady, 
 Know ot your love ? [ask ? 
 
 Otii. He did, from first to last: Why dost tliou 
 
 IfKjo. But for a satisfaction of my thought; 
 No further harm. 
 
 Oth. VVhy of tliy thought, lago ? 
 
 layo. I did not think, he had been acqiiaiuted with 
 her. 
 
 Ol/i. O, yes ; and went between us very oft. 
 
 laijo. Indeed :* [in that ? 
 
 Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed: — Discern'st thou aught 
 Is he not honest? 
 
 Idf/o. HoneBt, my lord ? 
 
 Oth. Ay, honest. 
 
 Intjo. My lord, for aught I know. 
 
 Oth. What dost thou think? 
 
 Icigo Think, my lord ? 
 
 Oth. Think, my lord ' 
 
 By heaven, he echoes me. 
 As if there were some monster in his thought. 
 Too hideous to be shewn.— Thou dost mean some- 
 thing : 
 I heard thee say but now, — Thou lik'dst not that, 
 When Cassio left my wife : VV'hat didst not like ? 
 And, when I told thee — he was of my couusel 
 In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed? 
 And did'st contract and |)urse thy brow together, 
 As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain 
 Some iiorrible conceit: If thou dost love me, 
 Shew me thy thought. 
 
 /iT.'/o. My lord, you know I love you. 
 
 Oth. I think, thou dost; 
 
 And, — for I know thou art full of lo\ e and honesty, 
 And weigh'st thy words belbre thou giv'st them 
 
 breath, — 
 Therefore these siops of thine fright me the more: 
 For such tilings, in a I'alse disloyal knave. 
 Are tricks of custom ; but, in a man that's just, 
 They are close denotements working from the heart. 
 That passion cannot rule. 
 
 I(i(jo. For Michael Cassio. — 
 
 I dare be sworn, I think tliat he is honest. 
 
 Oth. I think so too. 
 
 layo. Men should be what they seem : 
 
 Or. tliose that be not, 'would they might seem none ! 
 
 Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. 
 
 lago. _ _ NVhy, then, 
 
 I think that Cassio is an honest man. 
 
 Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this: 
 1 pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings. 
 As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of 
 The worst of word.s. (thoughts 
 
 lago. Good my lord, pardon me; 
 
 Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
 I am not bound to that all slaves are free to ! 
 Utter my thoughts ! Why, say they are vile and 
 
 false, — • 
 As where 's that palace, whereinto foul things 
 Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure. 
 But some uncleanly apprehensions 
 Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit 
 With meditations lawful ? 
 
 Oth, Thou dost conspire against thy friend, lago. 
 If thou but think'st him wrong 'd, and mak'st his ear 
 A stranger to thy thoughts. 
 
 lago. I do beseech you, — 
 
 Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess. 
 As, I confess, it is my nature's plague 
 To spy into abuses; and oft, my jealousy 
 Shapes faults that are not, — I entreat you then. 
 From one that so imperfectly conjects, 
 You'd take no notice : nor build yourself a trouble 
 Out of his scattering and unsure observance : — 
 It were not for your quiet, nor your good. 
 Nor fur my manhood, honesty, or wisdom. 
 
 To let you know my thoughts. 
 
 Oth. What dost thou mean ? 
 
 lago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my 
 lord. 
 Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 
 Who steals my purse, steals trasli ; 'tis something, 
 
 nothing ; 
 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands : 
 But he, that filches from me my good name. 
 Rubs nie of that which not enriches him. 
 And makes ine poor indeed. 
 
 Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought. 
 lago. \ ou cannot, if my heart were in your hand; 
 Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in mv custody. 
 Oth. Ha! ' _ 
 
 lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; 
 
 It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock 
 The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in bliss, 
 VVho^ certain of his fate, loves not his wronger ; 
 But, 0, what damned minutes tells he o'er, 
 Who dotf s, yet doubts ; suspects, yet strongly loves ! 
 Oth. O misery ! 
 
 lago. Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough ; 
 But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter. 
 To him that ever fears he shall be poor: — 
 Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
 From jealousy ! 
 
 qih. Why? why is this? 
 
 Think'st thon, I'd make a li(e of jealousy. 
 To follow still the changes of the moon 
 With fresh suspicions ? No : to be once in doubt. 
 Is— once to be resolv'd : Exchange me for a goat. 
 When I shall turn the business of my soul 
 To such exsufllicate, and blown surmises, 
 Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous. 
 To say — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, 
 Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; 
 Where virtue is, these aie more virtuous : 
 Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
 The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt; 
 For she had eyes, and chose me : No, la^o;- 
 III see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove 
 And, on the proof, there is no more but this,— 
 Away at once with love, or jealousy. 
 
 lago. lam glad of this; for now I shall have reason 
 To slievv the love and duly that I bear you 
 With franker spirit : therefore, as I am bound. 
 Receive it from me : — I speak not yet of proof. 
 Look to your wife ; observe her well witli Cassio ; 
 Wear your eye — thus, not jealous, nor seci;re : 
 1 woidd not have your free and noble nature. 
 Out of self-bounty, be abus'd ; look to't: 
 I know our country disposition well ; 
 In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks 
 They dare not shew their husbands ; their best con- 
 science 
 Is — not to leave undone, but keep unknown. 
 Oth. Dost thou say so ? 
 
 lago. She did deceive her father, marrying you ; 
 .\nd, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks. 
 She lov'd them most. 
 
 Oth. And so she did. 
 
 ^ lago. Why, go to, then ; 
 
 She tliat, so young, could give out such a seeming. 
 To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak, — 
 He thought, 'twas witchcraft : — But I am much to 
 
 blame ; 
 I humbly do beseech you of your pardon. 
 For too much loving you. 
 Oth. 1 am bound to thee for ever. 
 
 lago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your .spirits. 
 Oth. Not a jot, not a jot 
 
 I(igo. Trust me, I fear it has. 
 
 I hope, you will consider, what is spoke 
 Comes irom my love ; — But I do see you are mov'd ;— 
 I am to pray you, not to strain my speech 
 To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, 
 Than to suspicion. 
 Olh. 1 will not. 
 lago. Should you do so, m.- lord, 
 
784 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act in. 
 
 My speecli should fiill iuto such vile success 
 
 As my thougtits aim not at. Cassio's my worthy 
 
 friend : — 
 My lord, 1 see you are mov'd. 
 
 0th. No, not niucli niov'd : 
 
 I do not think but Desdemoiia's honest. 
 
 lago. Long live she so ! and long live you to 
 think so ! 
 
 Olh. And yet, how nature erring from itself, — 
 
 lacjo. Ay, there's the point: — As, — to be bold 
 with you, — 
 Not to afl'ect many proposed matches, 
 Of her own clime, comulexion, and degree; 
 Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends ; 
 Foh ! one may smell, in such, a will most rank, 
 Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. — 
 But pardon me ; I do not, in position, 
 Distinctly speak of her: though I may fear. 
 Her will, recoiling to better judgment, 
 May fall to match you with her country forms, 
 And (happily) repent. 
 
 Otk. Farewell, farewell : 
 
 If more thou dost perceive, let me know more ; 
 Set on thy wife to observe : Leave me, lago. 
 
 I(i(jo. My lord, I take my leaxe [Going.) 
 
 Olh. Why did I marry ? — This honest creature, 
 doubtless. 
 Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. 
 
 lago. My lord, I would, 1 might entreat your 
 honour 
 To scan this thing no further; leave it to time : 
 And though it be tit, that Cassio have his place, 
 (For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,) 
 Yet, if you please to hold him otf awhile, 
 You shall by that perceive him and his means : 
 Note, if your lady strain his entertainment 
 With any strong or vehement importunity ; 
 Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, 
 Let nie be thought too busy in my fears, 
 (As worthy cause I have, to fear — I am,) 
 And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. 
 
 0th. Fear not my government. 
 
 lago. I once more take my leave. [Exit. 
 
 0th. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, 
 And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit. 
 Of human dealings: If I do prove her haggard. 
 Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, 
 I'd whistle her off, snd let her down the wind, 
 To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ; 
 Ana have not those sol't parts of ron\ersation 
 That chamberers have : Or. lor I am declin'd 
 Into the vale of years ; — yet that's not much ;— 
 She's gone ; I am abus'd ; and my relief 
 Must be — to loath her. O curse of marriage. 
 That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 
 And not their appetites 1 1 had rather be a toad 
 And live upon the vapoui of a dungeon, 
 Than keep a corner in the thing I love. 
 For other."' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; 
 Prerogativ'd are they less than the base : 
 'Tis destiny unshuiinable, like death; 
 Even then this forked plague is fated to us. 
 When we do quicken. Dcsdemona conies: 
 
 Enter Uesdemona and Emilia. 
 
 If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself !- 
 I'll not bcliove it. 
 
 Des. How now, my dear Othello ? 
 
 Your dinner, and the generous islanders 
 By you invited, do attend your presence. 
 
 Oth. I am to blame. [well ? 
 
 Des. Why is your speech so faint ? are you not 
 
 Olh. I have a pain upon my forehead here. 
 
 Des. Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill away 
 again : 
 Let me but bind it hard, within this hour 
 It will be well. 
 
 Olh. Your napkin is too little ; 
 
 {He puts the Juindherchieffrorn lam, and it 
 drops.) 
 
 Let it alone. Come, I'l! go in with you. 
 
 Des. I am very sorry that you are not wrll. 
 
 [Exeunt Olh. and Deg. 
 
 Ejnil. I am glad I have found this napkin ; 
 This was her first remembrance from the Moor; 
 My wayward husband hath a hundred times 
 Woo'd me to steal it ; but she so lo\es the token, 
 (For he conjur'd her she would ever keep it,) 
 That she reserves it evermore about her, 
 To kiss, and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out. 
 And give it lago : 
 
 What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not Ij 
 I nothing, but to please his fantasy. ' 
 
 Enter Iago. 
 
 lago. How now ! what do you here alone? 
 
 Emit. Do not you cliide ; I have a thing for yon. 
 
 Iago. A thing ibr me i — It is a common thing. 
 
 Emil. Ha ! 
 
 Iago. To have a foolish wife. 
 
 Emil. O, is that all ? What will you give me now 
 For that same handkerchief? 
 
 Iago. What handkerchief? 
 
 Emil. What handkerchief ? 
 Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; 
 That which so often you did bid me steal. 
 
 Iago. Hast stolen it from her? 
 
 Emil. No, faith : she let it drop by negligence ; 
 And, to the advantage, I being here, took't up. 
 Look, here it is. 
 
 Iago. A good wench ; give it me. 
 
 Eniil. What will you do with it, that you have 
 been so earnest 
 To have me filch it ? 
 
 Iago. Why, what's that to you ? 
 
 {Snatching it.) 
 
 Emil. If it be not for some purpose of iuipDit, 
 Give it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad. 
 When she shall lack it. 
 
 Iago. Be not you known oft; I have use forit-. 
 Go, leave me. [Exit Eriil, 
 
 I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin. 
 And let him find it : Trifles, light as air. 
 Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
 As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. 
 The Moor already changes with my poison; — 
 Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 
 VV'hich, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ; 
 But, with a little act upon the blood. 
 Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so: — 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora. 
 Nor all the drowsy syrups oi'the world, 
 Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep. 
 Which thou ow'dst yesterdav. 
 
 Oth. 'Ha! ha! false tome? 
 
 To me ? 
 
 Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that 
 
 Oth. A vaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the 
 rack : — 
 I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, 
 Than but to kuow't a little. 
 
 Iago, ' How now, my lord ? 
 
 Oth. What sense had F of her stolen hours of lust? 
 I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me : 
 I slei>t the next mght well, was free and merry; 
 I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: 
 He that is robb'd, not wanting w hat is stolen. 
 Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all. 
 
 Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 
 
 Oth. I had been hai>py, if the general camp. 
 Pioneers and nil, had tasted her sweet body. 
 So I had nothing known ; O now, for ever, 
 Farewell the tra.iquil mind ; farewell content! 
 Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
 'J'hat mak<- anibition virtue! O, farewell! 
 Farewell the nrighing steed, and the shrill (rump 
 'I'lie spirit-sti.riiig driiin, the ear-piercing Hie, 
 The roval b;iiii:tr; iind all qualify, 
 Pritle, puMjp, and circiimsl:iiice ol slurioiis war! 
 
Scene 4. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 785 
 
 And O, yon mortal engines; whose rude throats 
 The immortal Jove's dread rlamoiirs counterfeit, 
 Tarewell ! Othello's occiiiation's gone! 
 
 lago. Is it possible ? — My lord. — 
 
 Olh. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore ; 
 Be sure of it; give nie the ocular proof; 
 
 {Taking him by the throat.) 
 Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, 
 Thou had'st been belter have been born a dog^, 
 I'han answer my wiik'd wrath. 
 
 lago. Is it come to this ? 
 
 Otk. Make nie to see it ; or (at the least) so prove it, 
 That the probation bear uo hinge, nor loop, 
 To liang a doubt on ; or, woe upon thy life! 
 
 lago. My noble lord, — 
 
 Otk. If thou dost slander her, and torture. m«. 
 Never pray more : abandon all remorse 
 On horror's head, horrors accumulate : 
 Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd. 
 For nothing canst thou to damnation add. 
 Greater than that. 
 
 lago. O grace ! O heaven defend me ! 
 
 Are yon a man ? have you a soul or sense ? — 
 God be wi' you ; take mine office. — O wretched fool. 
 That liv'st to make thiue honesty a vice I — 
 
 monstrous world .' Take note, take note, O world, 
 To be di'^'ct and honest, is not safe. — 
 
 1 thank you for this profit ; and, from hence, 
 
 I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence. 
 Otk. Nay, stay : — Thou sliould'st be honest. 
 lago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool. 
 And loses that it works for. 
 
 Olh. By the world, 
 
 I think my wife- be honest, and think she is not; 
 I think that thou art just, and think thou art not; 
 I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh 
 As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
 As mine own face. — If there be cords, or knives. 
 Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 
 I'll not endure it. — Would 1 were satisfied! 
 
 lago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion ; 
 t do rep*nt me, that I put it to you. 
 You would be satisfied ? 
 
 Otk. ■ Would ! nay, 1 will. 
 
 lago. And may : But, how ? how satisfied, my lord? 
 Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on '{ 
 Behold her tupp'd ? 
 
 Otk. Death and damnation ! O I 
 
 lago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, 
 To bring them to that prospect . Damn them then. 
 If ever nwrlal eyes do see them bolster, 
 More than their own ? What then '! how then? 
 What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? 
 It is impossible you should see this. 
 Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys. 
 As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross 
 As ignorance made dniuk. But yet I say. 
 If imputation, and strong circumstances, — 
 Which lead directly to the door of truth, — 
 Will give you satisfaction, you may have it. 
 Otk. Give ";e a living reason she's disloyal. 
 lago. I do .lot like the office : 
 B«it, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, — 
 •Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love, — ' 
 I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately ; 
 And being troubled with a raging tooth, 
 I could not sleep. 
 
 There are a kind of men so loose of soul, ■ 
 That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs ; 
 One of this kind is Cassio : 
 In sleep 1 heard him say, — Sweet Desdemona, 
 Let lis be icnry, let ns hide our toves ! 
 And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand. 
 Cry, — 0, sweet creature ! and then kiss me hard, 
 As if he pluck'd up kisses by the mots. 
 That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg 
 Over my thi^h, and sigh'd, and kiss'd ; and then, 
 Cry'd, Cursed fate ! that gave thee to the Moor ! 
 Otk. O monstrous I monstrous ! 
 lago. Nay, this was but his dream. 
 
 Olh. But this denoted a foregone conclusion ; 
 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. 
 
 lago. And this may help to thicken other proofs,. 
 That do demonstrate thinly. 
 
 Olh. I'll tear her all to pieces 
 
 lago. Nay, but be wise ; yet we see nothing done; 
 She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, — 
 Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief. 
 Spotted with strawberries, in your wile's liand? 
 Otk. I ga\ e her such a one ; 'twas my first gift. 
 lago. 1 know not that: but such a handkerchief, 
 (I am sure it was your wife's,) did I today 
 See Cassio wipe his beard with. 
 
 Otk. If it be that,— 
 
 lago. If it be that, or any that was her's, 
 It speaks against her with the other proofs. 
 
 Otk. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives; 
 One is too poor, too weak for my revenge ! 
 Now do I see 'tis true. — Look here. lago; 
 All my fond love thus I do blow to heaven: 
 'Tis gone. — 
 
 Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell I 
 Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne 
 To tyrannous hate ! swell, bosom, with thy fraught. 
 For 'tis of aspics' tongues ! 
 lago. Pray, be content. 
 
 OtJi. O, blood. lago, blood! 
 
 lago. Patience, I say ; your mind, perhaps, may 
 
 change. 
 Otk. Never. lago. Like to the Pontic sea, 
 Whose icy current and compulsive course 
 Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 
 To the Propontic, and the Hellespont; 
 Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace. 
 Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. 
 Till that a capable and wide revenge 
 Swallow them up. — Now, by yond' marble heaven, 
 In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels.) 
 I here engage my words. 
 
 lago. Do not rise yet. — {Kneels.) 
 
 VVitness, you ever-burning lights above ! 
 \ ou elements that clip us round about ! 
 Witness, that here lago doth give up 
 The execution of his wit, hands, heart. 
 To wrong'd Othello's serxice 1 let him command. 
 And to obey shall be in me remorse. 
 What bloody work soever. 
 
 Otk. I greet thy love. 
 
 Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous. 
 And will upon the instant put thee to"t: 
 V\ ithin these three days let me hear thee say. 
 That Cassio's not alive. [quest: 
 
 lago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done at your re- 
 But let her live. 
 
 Otk, Damn her, lewd minx ! O, damn her ! 
 
 Come, go with me apart : I will witlidraw, 
 To furnish me with some swilt means of death 
 For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. 
 lago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The same. 
 
 Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. 
 
 Dps. Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant 
 Cassio lies ? 
 
 Clo. I dare not say, he lies any where. 
 
 Des. Why, man ^ 
 
 Clo. He is a soldier ; and for rae to say a soldier 
 lies, is stabbing. 
 
 De.i. Go, to ; where lodges he ? 
 
 Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell yon 
 where I lie. 
 
 Des. Can any thing be made of this ? 
 
 Clo. I know not where he lodges ; and for me to 
 devise a iudging, and say — he lies here, or he liet 
 there, were to lie in my own throat. 
 
 Des. Can you enquire him out, and be edified hy 
 report ? 
 
 Clo. 1 will catechise (he world for liim • that is 
 make qu stions, and by them answer, 
 
 Des. .Seek him, bid him come hither : tell jjie, 1 
 
 ^0 
 
786 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IIL 
 
 HH-vf moved my lord in his bolialf, and hope, all 
 will be well. 
 
 f/o. To do this, is witliin the compass of man's 
 wit ; and therefore 1 will attempt the doiug it. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Des. Where should I lose that haudkerchief, 
 Emilia? 
 
 Emil. I know not, madam. 
 
 Des. Believe me, 1 had rather have lost my purse 
 Fi»ll of crusadoes. And, but my noble Moor 
 is true of mind, and made of no such baseness 
 As jealous creatures are, it were enough 
 To put him to ill thinking. 
 
 Emil. is he not jealous ? 
 
 fJes. Who, he ? I think the sun, where he was born. 
 Drew all such humours from him. 
 
 Emil. Look, where he comes. 
 
 Des. I will not lea^* him now, till Cassio 
 13e call'd to him.— How ist with you, my lord? 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 Cth. Well, my good hdy ■.—{Aside.) O, hard- 
 ness to dissemble I — 
 iiow do you r!o, Desdemona? 
 Des. XVeil, my good lord. 
 
 -Otk. Gi\e me your hand: This hand is moist, 
 my lady. [row. 
 
 Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sor- 
 Otk. 'i'iiis argues friiitfulness, and liberal heart ; — 
 Hot, hot, and moist: This hand of yours requires 
 A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer. 
 Much castigation, exercise devout; 
 For here's a young and sweating devil here, 
 That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, 
 A frank one. 
 
 Des. You may, indeed, say so; 
 
 For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. 
 Ot/i. A liberal hand : The hearts, of old, gave 
 hands ; 
 But our new heraldry is — hands, not hearts. 
 Des. I cannot speak of this. Couie now, your 
 
 promise. 
 Otk. What promise, chuck ? [you. 
 
 Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with 
 Ol.'i. I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me ; 
 Lend me thy haudkerchief. 
 Des. Here, my lord. 
 
 Otk. That whicii I gave you. 
 Des. I have it not about me. 
 
 OtL Not? 
 
 Des. No, indeed, my lord. 
 
 ;Ol/i. That is a fault : 
 
 That handkerchief 
 Did an Egyptian to my mother give : 
 .She was a charmer, and could almost read [it, 
 
 The thoughts of people : she told her, while she kept 
 'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father 
 Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, 
 Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 
 .Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt 
 Alter new fancies : She, dying, gave it me : 
 And ',id me, when my fate would have me wive. 
 To giv« it her. I did so : and take heed oft, 
 ■Make it a darling like your precious eye ; 
 To lose or gi-v't away, were such perdition. 
 As nothing else could match. 
 
 Des. Is it possible ? 
 
 0th. 'Tis true : there's magic in the web of it : 
 A sibyl, that had number'd in the world 
 The sun to make two hundred compasses 
 in her prophetic fury sew'd the work : 
 'I'he worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk ; 
 And it was died in mummy, which the skilful 
 Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. 
 Des. Indeed ! is't true ? 
 
 Ol/i, Most veritable ; therefore look to't well. 
 Des. Then would to heaven, tliat I had never 
 
 seen it. 
 0th. Ha! wherefore? 
 Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash V 
 
 0th. Is't lost ? is't gone ? speak, i.s't out of ths 
 
 Des. Heaven bless us ! [way ? 
 
 Otk. Say you ? 
 
 Dt's. If is not lust; but what aa' if it were? 
 
 Oth. Ha'. 
 
 Des. I sav, it is not lost. 
 
 Ol/i. ' Fetch't, let me see it 
 
 Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now ; 
 This is a trick, to put me from ray .suit; 
 I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again. [s^ivea, 
 
 Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief ; mymindmis- 
 
 Des. Come, come ; 
 Vou'll never meet a more sufficient man. 
 
 Oth. The handkerchief! — 
 
 Des. I pray, talk to me of Cassio. 
 
 Oth. The handkerchief!— 
 
 Des. A man that, all his time. 
 
 Hath founded his good fortune on your love; 
 Shar'd dangers with you; — 
 
 Oth. The handkerchief!— 
 
 Des. In .sooth. 
 You are to blame. 
 
 Oth. Away! [Exit. 
 
 Emil. Is not this man jealous ? 
 
 Des. I ne'er s3w this before. 
 Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: 
 I am must unhappy in the loss of it. 
 
 Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shews us a man : 
 They ar€ all but stomachs, and we all biit food; 
 They eat us huni=;rily, and when they are full. 
 They belch u.s. Look you ! Cassio, and my husband. 
 
 Enter Iago and Cassio. 
 
 logo. There is no other way ; 'tis she must do't; 
 And, lo, the happiness ! go, and importune her. 
 
 Des. How now, good Cassio ? w hat's the news 
 with you ? 
 
 Cas. Madam, my former suit. I do beseech yon, 
 That by your virtuous means, I may again 
 Exist, and be a member of his love, 
 Whom I, with all the duty of my heart. 
 Entirely honour; I would not be delay'd; 
 If my offence be of such mortal kind, 
 'I'hat neither service past, nor present sorrows. 
 Nor purpos'd merit in futurity. 
 Can ransome me into his love again. 
 But to know so must be my benefit ; 
 So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content. 
 And shut myself up in some other course, 
 To fortune's alms. 
 
 Des. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio, 
 
 My advocation is not now in tune ; 
 My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him. 
 Were he in favour, as in humour, aller'd. 
 So help me, every spirit sanctified. 
 As I have spoken for you all my best; 
 And stood within the blank of his displeasure, 
 For my free speech ! You must a while be patient ; 
 VVhat I can do, I will ; and more I will. 
 Than for myself T dare : let that sui&ce you. 
 
 Iago. Is my lord angry ? 
 
 Emil. He went hence but now. 
 
 And, certainly, in strange unquietness. 
 
 Iago. Can he be angry ? I have seen the cannon, 
 When it hath blown his ranks into the air; 
 And, like the devil, from his very arm 
 Pnd'd his own brother ; — And can he be angry ? 
 Something of moment, then : I will go meet liim ; 
 There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. 
 
 Des. I pr'ythee, do so. — Something, sure cf 
 state, — [Exit Iago. 
 
 Either from Venice ; or some nnhatch'd practice. 
 Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, — 
 Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases, 
 Men's natures wrangle with inferior things. 
 Though great ones are their objects. 'Tis even so, 
 For let our finger ache, and it endues 
 Our other healfhful members ev'n to that sense 
 Of pain : Nay, we must think, men are not godi : 
 Nor of them look for such observances 
 
Act IV. 
 
 THE MOOR OP VENICE. 
 
 787 
 
 As fit the bridal. — Beslirew me iiuirh, Emilia, 
 I vvas (iinhandsorae warrior as 1 am.) 
 .Xrraii^niiia; his tuikinduess with my soul ; 
 Ijiit now I find, I hqd suborn'd the witness, 
 And he's indited i'alsely. 
 
 Emil. i'ruy heaveu. be state matters, as you 
 think; 
 .\nd no conception, nor no jealous toy, 
 Concerninfj you. 
 
 Dus. Ahis, the day! F never gave him cause. 
 
 Emil. Hut jealous souls will not be answerd so ; 
 They are not ever jealous for the cause, 
 Bat jealous, for they are jealous : 'tis a monster, 
 BetTDt upon itself, born on itself. 
 
 Des. Heaveu keep that monster from Othello's 
 mind ! 
 
 Emil. Lady, amen! [about: 
 
 Des. I will 8:0 seek him. — Cassio, walk here- 
 If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, 
 And .seek to effect it to my uttermost. 
 
 C/is. I iiumbly thank your ladyship. 
 
 [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Bian. Save you, fnend Cassio I 
 
 Cus. What make you from home ? 
 
 How is it with you. ray most fair Bianca ? 
 I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. 
 
 Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio, 
 Wliat! keep a week away ? .seven days and nights? 
 Eight score ei^;llt Imurs ? and lovers' absent hours, 
 }<\xnii tedious tlian the dial eight score times i 
 
 weary reckoning ! 
 
 Cas. Pardon me, Bianca; 
 
 1 have thi.s while witli leaden thoughts been 
 
 |)ress'd ; 
 But I shall, in a more contini'ate time. 
 Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, 
 
 {(riviny her Dusdemona's kandker chief.) 
 Take me this work out. 
 
 Bian. O, Cassio, whence came this ? 
 
 This is some token from a newer friend. 
 To tlie felt absence now I feel a cause : 
 Is it come to this? Well, well. 
 
 Cas. Woman, go to ! 
 
 Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, 
 From wiience you have them. \ oa are jealous 
 
 now, 
 That this is from some mistress, some remembrance : 
 No. in good troth, Bianca. 
 
 Bian. Why, whose is it ? 
 
 Cas. I know not, sweet : 1 tound it in (uy cham- 
 ber. 
 I like the work well ; ere it be demanded, 
 .As like enough it will.) I'd have it co|)ied : 
 Tike it, and do't ; and leave me for this time. 
 
 Bian. Leave you ! wherefore ? 
 
 Cas. I do attend here on the general j 
 And think it no addition, nor my wish. 
 To have him see me vvoman'd. 
 
 Bian. Why, I pray you ? 
 
 Cns. Not that I love you not. 
 
 Bian. But that you do not love me. 
 
 ( pray you, bring me on the way a little ; 
 .A nd say, if I shall see you soon at night. 
 
 Cas. 'TIs but a little way, that I can bring you, 
 Tor I attend here : but I'll see you soon. 
 
 Bian. 'Tis very good ; I must be circumstanc'd. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The same. 
 
 Enter Otiiello and Iago. 
 
 larjo. Will you think so ? 
 Ot/i. Think so, Iago ? 
 
 layo. What, 
 
 To kiss in private? 
 
 Ofh. An unauthoriz'd kiss. 
 
 layo. Or (o be naked with her friend abed 
 
 An hour, or more, not meaning any harm ? 
 
 Otk. Naked abed, Iago, aiid nut mean harm:' 
 It is hypocrisy againsii tiie dtvil : 
 They that mean virtuously, and yet do so. 
 The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt 
 heaven. 
 
 Iago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip: 
 But if 1 give my wife a faandkerctiief, — 
 
 0th. W^hat then? 
 
 layo. Why, then 'tis hers, my lord ; and, being 
 hers, 
 She may, I think, bestow't on any man. 
 
 0th. She is protectress of her honour too , 
 May she gi\e that? 
 
 layo. Her honour is an essence that's not .seen ; 
 They have it very oft, that have it not: 
 But, for the handkerchief, — 
 
 0th. By hea\ en, I would most gladly have for- 
 got it: — 
 Thou said'st, — O, it comes o'er my memory. 
 As doth the raven o'er the infected house, 
 Boding to all,— he had my handkerchief. 
 
 lar/o. Ay, what of that? 
 
 ^^^t- That's not so good, now. 
 
 Iago. What, if I had said, I had seen him do 
 you wrong ? 
 Or heard him say,— As knaves be such abroad. 
 Who having, by tlieir own importunate suit, 
 Or voluntary dotiige of some mistress, 
 Convinc'd or sup[)lied them, cannot choose 
 But they must blab — 
 
 0th. Hatii he said any thing ? 
 
 laffo. He hath, my lord ; but be you well assur'd. 
 No more than he'll unswear. 
 
 Olh. What hath he snid? 
 
 Irryo. 'Faith, that he did,— I know not what he 
 
 0th. What, what? [dH. 
 
 lano. Lie — 
 
 0th. With her? 
 
 lar/o. VVith her, on her; what you will. 
 
 0th. Lie with her! lie on her! — We sav, lie iti 
 her, when they belie her: Lie with her I that's 
 fulsome. — Handkerchief, — confessions, — hanri ker- 
 chief — To confess, and be hanged for hi.s labour. 
 — First, to be hanged, and then to confess:— I 
 tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in 
 such shadowing passion, without some instruction. 
 It is not words, that shake me thus: — Pisli ! — 
 Noses, ears, and lips : — Is it possible '? — Con- 
 fess! — Handkerchief! — O devil ! 
 
 [Falls in a trance.) 
 Iago. Work on, 
 My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are 
 
 caught ; 
 And many worthy and chaste dames, even thus. 
 All guiltless meet reproach. — What, ho ! my lord I 
 
 Enter Cassio. 
 
 My lord, I say ! Othello! — How now, Cassio? 
 
 Cas. What is the matter ? 
 
 Iago. My lord is fiUen into an epilepsy ; 
 This is his second tit; he had one yesterday. 
 
 Cas. Uub him about the temples. 
 
 lano. No, forbear 
 
 The lethargy must have his quiet course : 
 If not, he foams at mouth ; and, by and by, 
 Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs: 
 Do you withdraw yourself a little while. 
 He will recover strai^iht; when he is gone, 
 I would on great occasion speak with you. — 
 
 [Exit Cassio. 
 How is it, general ? ha\ e you not hurt your head ? 
 
 0th. Dost thou mock me ? 
 
 Iago. I mock you ! no, by heaven 
 
 'Woidd, you would bear your fortunes like a man. 
 
 Olh. A horned nwn's a monster, and a beast. 
 
 Iago. Tliere's many a beast then in a populpns 
 city. 
 And many a <Mvil monster. 
 
 Oth. Did he confess it ^ 
 
788 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 lago. Good sir, be a man ; 
 
 Tiiink, every bearded fellow, tlial's but yok'fl, 
 Mny draw with yoii: there's millions now alive, 
 That nightly lie in those nnproper beds, 
 Which they dare swear peculiar; your case is 
 
 better. 
 O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, 
 To lip a wanton in a secure couch, 
 And to suppose her chaste ! No, let me know ; 
 And, knowing what I am, I know vyhat she shall be. 
 
 0th. O, thou art wise ; 'tis certain, 
 
 In(jo. Stand you awhile apart; 
 
 Confine yourself but in a patient list. 
 Whilst you were here, erewhile mad with your 
 
 grief, 
 A passion most nnsuitinp such a man,) 
 
 assio came hither : I shifted him away 
 And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy ; 
 Hade him anon return, and here speak with me; 
 The which he promis'd. Do but encave yourself, 
 .And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns. 
 That dwell in every region of his face ; 
 For I will make him tell the tale anew, — 
 Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when 
 He hath, and is again to cope your wife ; 
 I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience ; 
 Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen. 
 And nothing of a man, 
 
 0th. Dost thou hear, Tago ? 
 
 [ will be found most cunning in my patience ; 
 But (dost thou hear?) most bloody, 
 
 layo. Tlrat's not amiss ; 
 
 But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw .' 
 
 (Othello withdraws.) 
 Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, 
 A housewife, that, by selling her desires. 
 Buys herself bread and clothes ; it is a creature, 
 That dotes on Cas.sio, — as 'tis the strumpet's plague. 
 To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one ; — 
 He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain 
 From the excess of laughter : — Here he comes: 
 
 Re-enter Cassio. 
 
 As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad ; 
 And his unbookish jealousy must construe 
 Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour 
 Quite in the wrong. — How do you now, lieute- 
 nant? 
 Cas. The worser, that you give me the addition, 
 Whose want even kills me. 
 
 lago. Ply Desdeniona well, and you are sure oft. 
 Now, if this suit lay in Bianca's power, 
 
 [Speaking lower.) 
 How quickly should you speed ? 
 Cas. Alas, poor caitiff! 
 
 0th. Look, how he laughs already ! [Aside.) 
 
 lago. I never knew a woman love man so. 
 Cas. Alas, poor rogue ! I think, i'faith, she loves 
 
 me. 
 0th. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. 
 
 {Aside.) 
 lago. Do you hear, Cassio ? 
 0th. Now he importunes him 
 
 To tell it o'er: Goto; well said, well said, 
 
 [Aside.) 
 lago. She gives it ont, that you shall marry her : 
 Do you intend it ? 
 
 Cas. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 0th. Do you tiiumph, Roman ? do you triumph ? 
 
 [Aside.) 
 Cas. I marry her! — what? a customer ! I pr'y- 
 (hee, bear some charity to my wit; do not think it 
 60 iu)wholesome. Ha, ha, ha! 
 Olh. So, so, so, so : They laugh that win. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 lago. 'Faith, the cry goes, that you shall marry 
 
 her. 
 Cas. Pr'ythee, say true. 
 lago. 1 am a very villain else. 
 Olh. Hav- you scoiied me? Well. [Aside.) 
 
 Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out : she 
 is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own lore 
 and flattery, not out of my promise, 
 
 0th. lago beckons me ; now he begins the story. 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Cas. She was here even now; she haunts me in 
 every place. 1 was, the other day, talking on the 
 sea-bank with certain Venetians: and thither comes 
 this bauble ; by this hand, she falls thus about mj 
 neck ; — 
 
 0th. Crying, O dear Cassio ! as it were : his 
 gesture imports it. [Aside.) 
 
 Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me ; so 
 hales, and pulls me : ha, ha, ha! — 
 
 0th. Now he tells, how she plucked him to my 
 chamber : O, I see that nose of yours, but not that 
 dog I shall throw it to. [Aside.) 
 
 Cas. Well, I must leave her company. 
 
 lago. Before me ! look, where she comes. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Cas. 'Tis such another fitchew I marry, a per- 
 fimied one. — What do you mean by this haunting 
 of me? 
 
 Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you ! 
 What did you mean by that same handkerchief, you 
 gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I 
 must take out the whole work? — A likely piece of 
 work, that you should find it in your chamber, and 
 not know who lef't it there ! This is some minx's 
 token, and I must take out the work? Tliere, — give 
 it your hobby-horse : wheresoever you had it, I'll 
 take out no work on't. 
 
 Cas. How. now, my sweet Bianca ? how now ? 
 how now ? 
 
 0th. By beaten, that should be my handkerchief! 
 
 [Aside.) 
 
 Bian. An you'll come to supper to-night, you 
 may: an you will not, come when you are next 
 prepared for, [Exit 
 
 lago. After her, after her. 
 
 Cas. 'Faith I must, she'll rail in the street else. 
 
 lago. Will you sup there ? 
 
 Cas. 'Faith, I intend so. 
 
 lago. Well, I may chance to see you; for 1 would 
 very lain speak with you. 
 
 Cas. Pr'ythee, come ; Will you? 
 
 Jago. Go to ; say no more. [Exit Cassio. 
 
 0th. How shall I murder him, lago? 
 
 lago. Did you perceive how he laughed at his 
 vice? 
 
 0th. O, lago! 
 
 lago. And did you see the handkerchief? 
 
 0th. Was that mine ? 
 
 Jago. Yours, by this hand : and to see hovy he 
 prizes the foolish woman, your wife! she gave it 
 him, and he hath given it his whore. 
 
 0th. I would have him nine years a killing: — 
 A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman I 
 
 lago. Nay, you must forget that. 
 
 0th. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned 
 to-night; for she shall not live : No, my heart is 
 turned to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. 
 O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: .she 
 might lie by an emperor's side, and command him 
 tasks. 
 
 lago. Nay, that's not your way. 
 
 0th. Hang her! 1 do but i.'.y what she is: — So 
 delicate with her needle ! — An admirable musician ! 
 O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear ! — Of 
 so high and plenteous wit and invention ! 
 
 lago. She's the worse for all this. 
 
 0th. 0,a thousand, a thousand times : — And then, 
 of so gentle a condition ! 
 
 Jago. Ay, too gentle. 
 
 0th. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity ofi: 
 lago! — O, lago, the pity of it, Tago! 
 
 Jago. If you are so fond over lier ini(|iiit\ g 
 her patent to offend; for, if it touch not jou, 
 comes nes>r n<]body. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 THE MOOR CF VENICE. 
 
 789 
 
 Otii. I will chop lier into messes: — Cuckold me! 
 
 Ligo. O, 'tis foul in her. 
 
 0th. With mine officer! 
 
 laijo. 'I'hat's fouler. 
 
 Olh. Get nie some poison, lago ; this nisht : — 
 1 11 not expostulate with her, lest her body and 
 beauty unprovide my mind again : — this night, 
 laoo. 
 
 latjo. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her 
 bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. 
 
 Ot/u Good, good: the'justice ol it pleases; very 
 good. 
 
 lago. And, for Cassio, — let me be his undertaker : 
 Vou shall Lear more by midnight, 
 
 [A trumpet within.) 
 
 0th. Excellent good. — What trumpet is tliat 
 same ? 
 
 lago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodo- 
 
 vico, _ [him. 
 
 ' Come from the duke : and, see, your wife is with 
 
 EiUer LoDOVico, Desdemona. and Attendants. 
 
 Lod. 'Save you, worthy general ! 
 
 0th. With all my heart, sir. 
 
 Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you. 
 {Gives him a packet.) 
 
 Olh. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. 
 
 [Opens tlie packet, and reads.) 
 
 Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lodo- 
 vico ';■ 
 
 lago. I am very glad to see yon, signior, 
 Welcome to Cyprus. 
 
 Lod. i tliank. you : How does lieutenant Cassio'/ 
 
 IfKjo. Lives, sir. 
 
 Des. Cousin, tliere's fallen between him and my 
 lord 
 An unkind breach : but you shall make all well. 
 
 0th. \re you sure of that? 
 
 Des. My lord '. 
 
 0th. This fail you not to do, as you will — 
 
 [Reads.) 
 
 Lod. He did not call ; he's busy in the paper. 
 Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? 
 
 Des. A most unh;!ppy one ; I would do much 
 'I'd iiiiiiie them, for the love i bear to Cassio. 
 
 Olh. Fire and brimstone I 
 
 Des. My lord ? 
 
 0th. Are you wise ? 
 
 Des. What, is he angiy ? 
 
 Lod. 'May be, the letter mov'd him ; 
 
 Fni , as I think, they do conmiaiid iiim home, 
 DeiMitiii^ Cassio in his government. 
 
 Des. By my troth, I am glad on't. 
 
 0th. Indeed ? 
 
 Des. My lord ? 
 
 0th. I am glad to see you mad. 
 
 Des. How, sweet Othello ? 
 
 0th. Devil! [Striking her.) 
 
 Des. I have not deserv'd tliis. 
 
 Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Ve- 
 ruce, 
 Tlunish I should swear I saw it: 'Tis very much; 
 M;il;e her amends, she weeps. 
 
 Olh. O devil, devil! 
 
 If tlint the earth could teem witli woman's tears, 
 E.icii dnip she falls would prove a crocodile: — 
 Out of my sight! 
 
 Des I will not stay to offend you. 
 
 (Going.) 
 
 Lod. Truly, an obedient lady ; 
 I do beseech your lordship, call her back. 
 
 Olti. Mistress — 
 
 Des. My lord ? 
 
 0th. What would you with her, sir? 
 
 Lod. Who, I, my lord '? 
 
 Olh. Ay ; you did wish, that I would make her 
 turn : 
 Sir, she cai' turn, and turn, and yet go on, 
 And turn again : and she can weep, sir, weep; 
 And she's obedient, as you say, — obedient, — 
 
 Very obedient ; — Proceed you in your tears.— 
 Concerning this, sir, — O well-painted passion! 
 1 am commanded home : — Get you away; 
 I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate, 
 And will return to Venice ; — Hence, avaiiut! 
 
 [Exit Desdemona. 
 Cassio shall have my place. And, — Sir, to-night, 
 I do entreat that we may sup together. 
 You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats and 
 monkeys ! [Exit. 
 
 Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full se- 
 nate (ture. 
 Call — all-in-all sufficient? — This the noble na- 
 Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtue. 
 The shot of accident, nor dart of chance. 
 Could neitlier graze, nor pierce? 
 
 lagn. He is much clmng'd. 
 
 Ijod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? 
 
 lago. He is that he is ; I may not breathe my 
 censure. 
 What he might be, — if, what he might, he is not, — 
 I would to heaven, he were. 
 
 Lod. What, strike his wife ! 
 
 lago. 'Faith, that was not so well; Yet 'would 
 I knew. 
 That stroke would prove the worst. 
 
 Lod. Ts it his use ? 
 
 Or did the letters work upon his blood, 
 And new-create this fault ? 
 
 lago. Alas, alas! 
 
 It is not honesty in me, to speak (him ; 
 
 What I have seen and known. You shall observ* 
 And his own courses will denote him so. 
 That I may save my speech : Do but go after, 
 And mark how he continues. 
 
 Lod. 1 am sorry, that I am deceiv'd in him. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Othello and Ejmilia. 
 
 0th. You have seen nothing then ? 
 
 Emit. Nor ever heard ; nor ever did suspect, 
 
 0th. Ves, you have seen Cassio and she togetlier. 
 
 Emit. But then I saw no harm; and then I he.ird 
 Each syllable that breath made up between them. 
 
 Olh. What, did they never whisper? 
 
 Emil. Never, my lord. 
 
 0th. Nor send you out o'the way ? 
 
 Emil. Ne\er. 
 
 Otk. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor 
 nothing ? 
 
 Emil. Never, my lord. 
 
 Ofh. That's strange. 
 
 Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, 
 Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other. 
 Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. 
 If any wretch hath put this in your head. 
 Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! 
 For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true. 
 There's no man happy ; the purest of their vvi\ es 
 Is foul as slander. 
 
 OtA. Bid her come hither : — g<>. — 
 
 [Exit Emilia. 
 She says enough ; — yet she's a simple bawd. 
 That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, 
 A closet-lock-and-key of villanous secrets . 
 And yet she'll kneel, and pray ; I've seen her do'L 
 
 Re-enter Emilia, with Desdemona. 
 
 Des. My lord, what is your will ? 
 
 Olh. Pray, chuck, come hither. 
 
 Des. What is your pleasure ? 
 
 0th. Let me see your eyes ; 
 
 Look in my face. 
 
 Des. What horrible fancy's this? 
 
 Olh. Some of your function, mistress ; 
 
 f To Emilia.) 
 Leave procreants alone, and shut the door ; 
 Cough, or cry — hem, if any body come : 
 
790 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act TV 
 
 Your mystery, your mysterj- ; — nay, despatch. 
 
 [Exit EmiUa. 
 Des. Upoa my knees, what doth your si eech 
 import ? 
 I understand a fury in your words. 
 But not-the words. 
 0th. Why, what art thou ? 
 Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true 
 
 And loyal wife. 
 
 0th. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 
 
 Lest, being like oneof heaven, the devils themselves 
 Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double- 
 
 damn'd, 
 Swear— thou art honest. 
 Des. Heaven doth truly know it. 
 
 0th. Heaven truly knows, tiiat thou art false as 
 
 hell. 
 Des. To whom, my lord ? with whom ? How am 
 
 I false ? 
 0th. O Desdemona! — away! away! away! 
 Des. Alas, the heavy day!— Why do you weep? 
 Am 1 the occasion ofthe.se tears, uiy lord? 
 If, haply, you my father do suspect 
 An instrument of this your calling back. 
 Lay not your blame on me ! if you have lost him, 
 Why, I have lost him too. 
 
 0th. Had it pleas'd heaven 
 
 To ti-y me with affliction ; had he rain'd 
 All kmd of sores, and shames, on my bare head ; 
 Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ; 
 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 
 I should have' found in some part of my soul 
 A drop of patience : but (alas !) to make me 
 A fixed figure, for the time of scorn 
 To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 
 O! O! 
 
 Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : 
 Bat there, where 1 have garner'd up niy heart; 
 Where either I must live, or bear no lite ; 
 The fountain, from the which my current runs. 
 Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence I 
 Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 
 To knot and gender in ! — turn tiiy complexion there! 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ; 
 Ay, there, look grim as hell I 
 Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest. 
 0th. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles. 
 That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed. 
 Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet. 
 That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would, thou hadst 
 ne'er been born ! 
 Des. .Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ? 
 0th. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book. 
 Made to write whore upon? What committed? 
 Committed ! — O thou public commoner! 
 I should make very forges of my cheeks. 
 That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
 Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed! 
 Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ; 
 The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
 Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, 
 And will not hear it: — What committed ! 
 Impudent strumpet ! 
 Des. By heaven, you do me wrong, 
 
 0th. Are not you a strumpet? 
 Des. , No, as I am a christian : 
 
 If to preserve this vessel for my lord, 
 .From any other foul unlawful touch, 
 Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none. ^ 
 
 0th. What, not a whore ? 
 
 Des. No, as I shall be saved. 
 
 0th. Is it possible ? 
 Des. O, heaven forgive us ! 
 0th. I cry you mercy, then ; 
 
 I took y»u for that cunning whore of Venice, 
 That married with Othello. — You, mistress, 
 
 Re-enter Emilia. 
 
 That have the office opposite to St. Peter, 
 And keep the gate of hell; You ! you! ay, you .' 
 
 We have done our course; there's money for yom 
 
 pains ; 
 I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Emil. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive '! — 
 How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? 
 
 Des. 'r'ailh, half asleep. [lord i 
 
 Emil. Good madam, what's the m^ttter with my 
 
 Dus. With who ? 
 
 Emil. Why, with tay lord, madauk, 
 
 Dts. Who is thy lord ? 
 
 Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady 
 
 Des. I have noi:e : Do not talk to me, Emiliu ; 
 1 cannot weep ; nor answer I have none. 
 But what should go by water. Pr'ythee, to-night. 
 Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, — remember, — 
 And call thy husband hitlier. 
 
 Emil. Here is a change, indeed I 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Des. 'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet. 
 How have I been behav'd, that he might stjtk 
 The small'st opinion on my great'st abuse i 
 
 Re-enter Emilia, tvith Iago. 
 
 lago. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is 
 it with you ? (babes, 
 
 Des. I cannot tell. Those, that do teach young 
 Do it with gentle means, and easy tasks : . 
 He might have chid me so; for, in good faitli, 
 I am a child to chiding. 
 
 Ia(jo. • What's the nwtter, huly ? 
 
 Emit. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so iievvhor'd lier. 
 Thrown such despite and heavy terms u|)on her. 
 As true hearts cannot bear. 
 
 Des. Am I that name, Iago? 
 
 laijo. What nan>e, fair lady ? 
 
 Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was. 
 
 Emil. He call'd her, whore ; a beggar, in his 
 drink. 
 Could not have laid such terras upon his callet. 
 
 layo. Why did he so ? [such. 
 
 Des. I do not know; I am sure, I am none 
 
 layo. Do not weep, do not weep : Alas, the day ! 
 
 Emil. Has she forsook so many noble matches. 
 Her lather, and her country, and her friends. 
 To be called — whore ? would it not make one weep? 
 
 Des. It is my wretched fortune. 
 
 layo. Beshrew him for it ! 
 
 How conies this trick upon him? 
 
 Des. Nay, heaven doth know. 
 
 Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, 
 Some busy and insinuating rogue, 
 Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office. 
 Have not devis'd this slander: I'll be hang'd else. 
 
 Iago. Fy, there is no such man: it is impossible. 
 
 Des. II' any such there be, heaven pardon him J 
 
 Emil. A halter pardon him ! and hell gnaw his 
 
 bones ! [company ? 
 
 Why should he call her whore? who keeps her 
 
 What place ? what time ? what form ? what likelS. 
 
 hood ? 
 The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave 
 Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow :— 
 
 heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold ; 
 And put in every honest hand a whip. 
 
 To lash the rascal naked through the world. 
 Even from the east to the west! 
 
 Iago. Speak within door. 
 
 Emil. O, fy upon him ! some such sfjiiire he was, 
 That turn'd your wit the seamy side without. 
 And made you to suspect me with the Muor. 
 
 Iago. You are a fool ; go to. 
 
 Des. O good Iago, 
 
 What shall I do to win my lord again ? 
 Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of hea\eti, 
 
 1 know not how 1 lost him. Here I ku<"el: — 
 If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love. 
 Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed ; 
 Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense. 
 Delighted them io an- other form ; 
 
Scene 3. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 791 
 
 Or (hat I do not yet, riud ever did, 
 
 And ever will, — though he do ahake nie oft' 
 
 To beggarly divorcetiie.nt, — love him dearly, 
 
 Comfort fdrsvvear me ! Unkiiulness may do much ; 
 
 And his (iiikindness may defeat my life, 
 
 But never taint my love. I cannot say whore ; 
 
 It dues abhor me, now I speak tiie word ; 
 
 To do the acttliat might the addition earn. 
 
 Not the world's mass of vanity could make me. 
 
 layo. I pray you, be content ; 'tis but his humour ; 
 The business of the state does him ottence, 
 And he does chide with you. 
 Des. If twere no other, — 
 
 Ingo. It is but so, I warrant you. [Trumpets.) 
 Hark, how these instruments summon to supper ! 
 And the great messengers o( Venice stay : 
 Go in, and weep not ; all things shall be well. 
 
 [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
 
 Enter Roderico. 
 
 How now, Roderigo ? [me. 
 
 Rod. I do not tind, that thou deai'st justly with 
 
 logo. What in the contrary i 
 
 Rod. Every day thou doti"'st me with some device, 
 lago; and r.ither (as it seems to me now,) keep'st 
 <rom me all conveniency, tiian siippliest nie with the 
 least advantage of ho|)e. I will, indeed, no longer 
 endure it: Nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in 
 j>eace what already I have foolishly sutl'ered. 
 
 lago. Will you hear me, Roderigo? 
 
 Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much ; for your 
 words, and performance, are no kin together. 
 
 lago. Yi)u charge me most unjustly. 
 
 Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted my- 
 self out of uiy means. 'I'he .jewels you have had 
 from me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have 
 corrupted a votaiist: You liave told me — she has 
 received them, and returned me expectations and 
 comforts of sudden respect and acquittance; but 1 
 find none. 
 
 lago, Weil; goto; very we!'. 
 
 Rod. Very well! go to ! I cannot go to, man; 
 nor 'tis not very well : By this hand, I say, it is very 
 sc«rvy ; and begin to find myself fobbed in it. 
 
 lago. V^ery well. 
 
 Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make 
 myself known to Desdemona: If she will return me 
 my jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my 
 unlawful solicitation : If not, assure yourself, I will 
 seek satisfaction of you. 
 
 lago. Vou' have said now. 
 
 Rod- Ay, and I have said nothing, but what I 
 protest intendment of doing. 
 
 lago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; 
 and even, from this instant, do build on thee a bet- 
 ter opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, 
 Roderigo ; Thou hast taken ngamst me a most just 
 exception; but, yet, I protest, I have dealt most 
 directly in thy affair. 
 
 Rod. It hath not appeared. 
 
 lago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared ; and 
 your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. 
 But, Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, 
 which I have greater reason to believe now than 
 ever, — I mean, pur ose, courage, and valour, — 
 this night shew it; iftiiou the next night following 
 enjoyest not Desdemona, take me Iron, this world 
 with treachery, and devise engines for my lile. 
 
 Rod. Well, what is it i is it witnin reason, and 
 compass '' 
 
 Jago. Sir. there is especial commission come fron' 
 Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place. 
 
 Rod. Is that true? Why, then Othelio and Des- 
 demona return again to Venice. 
 
 lago. O, no; lie goes into Mauiitania, and takes 
 iway with lum the fair Desdemona, unless his 
 abode be lingered here by sonic accident ; wherein 
 none can be so determinate as the removing of 
 Cassio. 
 
 Rod. How do you mean— removing of him . 
 
 lago. Why, by making him incapable of Othello's 
 place; knocking out his brains. 
 
 Rod. And that you would nave me do? 
 
 lago. Ay ; if you dare do yourself a profit, and "a 
 right. He sups to night with a harlot, and thither 
 will I go to him ; — he knows not yet of his honour- 
 able fortune : if you will watch his going thence, 
 (which I shall fashion to fall out between twehe 
 and one,) you may take him at your pleasure ; I 
 will be near to second your attempt, and he shrdi 
 M'all between us. Come, .stand not amazed at it, but 
 go along with me ; I will shew you such a necessity 
 in his death, that you shall think yourself bound to 
 put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the 
 night grows to waste : about it. 
 
 Rod. I will hear further reason for this. 
 
 lago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Another Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no 
 
 further. 
 Otk. O pardon me ; 'twill do me good to walii. 
 Lod. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your 
 
 ladyship 
 Des. Your honour is most welcome. 
 0th. Will you walk, sir?— 
 
 O, — Desdemona, — 
 Des. My lord? 
 
 Ot/i. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be 
 returned fojthwith: dismiss your attendant there; 
 look, it be done. 
 Des. I will, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt 0th. Lod. and Attendants. 
 Emil. How goes it now ? he looks gentler than 
 
 he did. 
 Des. He says he will return incontinent; 
 He hath commanded me to go to bed, 
 And jade me to dismiss you. 
 
 Emil. 
 
 Di 
 
 ismiss me ; 
 
 Des. It was his bidding ; therefore, good Emilia, 
 Give me my niyhtly wearing, and adieu : 
 We must not now displease him. 
 
 Emil. I would, you iiad never seen him ! 
 
 Des. So would not I ; my love doth so approve 
 
 him, [frowns, — 
 
 That even his stubbornness, his checks, and 
 
 Pr'ythee, unpin me, — have grace and favour in 
 
 them. [bed. 
 
 Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the 
 
 Des. All's one: — Good father! how foolish are 
 our minds ! 
 If I lo die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me 
 In one of those same sheets. 
 
 Emil. Come, come, you talk 
 
 Des. My mother had a maid calld — Barbara ; 
 She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad. 
 And did forsake her: she had a song of— willow; 
 An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune 
 And she died singing it: That song, to-night, 
 \V ill not go from my mind ; 1 have much to do. 
 Hut to go hang my head all at one side, 
 And sing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch. 
 
 Emil. ShaW I go fetch your night-gown? 
 
 Des. No, unpin lue here. — 
 
 This Lodovico is a proper man. 
 
 Emil. A very handsome man. 
 
 Des. And he speaks we'd. 
 
 Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have 
 walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his 
 nether lip. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oes. The poor sotd sat sighing by <t sycamore 
 tree. 
 Sing all a green unlloiv; [Singing.) 
 
 Her luind on her bosom, her head on her knee, 
 Sing willow, ivilluiv. willow : 
 
792 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur d 
 her moans; 
 Shtg willow, etc 
 Her salt tears fell from her, and soflen'd 
 the stones ; 
 Lay by these : 
 
 Sinrj willow, willow, willow; 
 Pr'j thee, hie thee ; he'll come anon. — 
 
 Sing all a green willow must be my gar- 
 land. 
 
 II 
 Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve, — 
 Nay, that's not next. — Hark! who is it that knocks? 
 Emil. It is the wind. 
 
 Des. I call' d my love, false love; but what said 
 
 Sing ivillow , etc. _ [he then ? 
 
 If I court mo tvomen, you'll couch with mo men. 
 
 So, get thee gone ; good night. Mine eyes do itch ; 
 
 Doth that bode weeping? 
 
 Emil. 'Tis neitlier here nor there. 
 
 Des. I have heard it said so. — O, these men, 
 these men ! 
 Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me. Emilia, — 
 That there be women do abuse their husoands 
 In such gross kind ? 
 Emil. There be some such, no question. 
 
 Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for ail the 
 
 World? 
 Emil. Why, would not you? 
 Des. No, by this heavenly light ! 
 
 Emil. Nor I neither, by this heavenly light; 
 I might do't as well i'the dark. [world "? 
 
 Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the 
 Emil. The world is a huge thing : 'Tis a great 
 price 
 For a small vice. 
 Des. Good troth, I think thou would'st not. 
 
 Emil. By my troth, I think I should; and un- 
 do't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do 
 such a thing for a joint-ring ; nor for measures of 
 lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor 
 any petty exiiibition : but, for the whole world, — 
 Why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, 
 to make him a monarch? I should venture purga- 
 tory for't. 
 
 Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a vfrong 
 for the whole world. 
 
 Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the 
 world ; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis 
 a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly 
 make it right. 
 Des. I do not think there is any such woman. 
 Emil. Yes, a dozen ; and as many [for. 
 
 To the vantage, as would store the world they play'd 
 But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults, 
 If wives do fall : Say, that they slack their duties, 
 And pour our treasures into foreign laps ; 
 Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 
 Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us, 
 Or scant our former having in despite ; 
 Why, we have galls ; and, though wc have some 
 
 grace, 
 Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know. 
 Their wives have sense like them: they see, and 
 
 smell, 
 And have their palates both for sweet and sour, 
 As husbands have. What is it that they do. 
 When they change us for others ? Is it sport ? 
 I think it is ; And doth affection breed it ; 
 I think it doth ; Is't frailty that thus errs ? 
 it is so ti)o : And have not we affections ? 
 Desires for sport? and frailty, as men have ? 
 Then, let them use us well : else, let them know. 
 The ills we do, their ills instruct us to, 
 
 Des. Good niglif, good night : Heaven me such 
 u.sage send, 
 Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend ! 
 
 [Exeu7it. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — A Street. 
 Enter Iago and lloDERiGO. 
 
 lago. Here, stand behind this bulk ; straight 
 will he come : 
 Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home ; 
 Quick, quick; fear nothing : I'll be at thy elbow : 
 It makes us, or it'mars us ; think on that, 
 And fix most'lirin thy resolution. 
 
 Rod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't. 
 
 Iago. Here, at thy hand ; be bold, and take thj 
 sword. {Retires to a little distance.} 
 
 Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed ; 
 And vet he has given me satisfying reasons : — 
 'Tis out a man gone : — forth, my svvoi d ; he dies. 
 
 {Goes to his stand.) 
 
 Iago. I have rnbb'd this young quat almost to 
 the sense, 
 And he grovvs angry. Now, whether he kill CitSMO 
 Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, _ 
 Every way makes my gain : Live Roderigo, 
 He calls me to a restitution large 
 Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd from him. 
 As gilts to Desdemona; 
 It must not be : if Cassio do remain, 
 He hath a daily beauty in his life, 
 'I'hat makes me ugly ; and, besides, the Moor 
 May unfold me to him ; there stand I in much periS: 
 No, he must die : — But so, I hear him coming. 
 
 Enter Cassio. 
 Rod. I know his gait, 'tis he :— Villain, thou diest. 
 {Rushes from his post, and makes a pass at 
 Cassio. 
 Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed. 
 But that my coat is better than thou think'st ; 
 1 will make proof of thine. 
 
 {Draws, andtvounds Roderigo.) 
 Rod. O, I am slain ! 
 
 {Iago rushes from his post, cuts Cassio behind 
 
 in the leg. and exit.) 
 Cas. I am maim'd for ever : — Help, oh ! mur- 
 
 ler; mu 
 
 rder I 
 
 {Falls.) 
 
 Enter Othello, at a distance. 
 
 0th. The voice of Cassio: — Iago keeps his 
 
 word. 
 Rod. O, villain that I am ! 
 0th. Hark .' 'tis even so 
 
 Cas. O, help! oh! light! a surgeon! 
 0th. 'Tis he ; — O brave lago, honest, and just, 
 That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong.' 
 Thou tearhest me, — Minion, your dear lie.s dead. 
 And your fate hies apace : — Strumpet, 1 come : 
 Forth of my heart those charms, thine oyes, are 
 
 blotted; 
 Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust'.3 blood be 
 spotted. [Exit Othelia. 
 
 Enter LoDOVico and Gratiano, at a distance. 
 
 Cas, What, ho ! no watch ? no passage ': mur- 
 der i murder! 
 
 Gra. 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very dire 
 ful. 
 
 Cas. O help ! 
 
 Lod. Hark! 
 
 Rod. O wretched villain ! 
 
 Lod. Two or three groans; — it is a heavy night: 
 These may be counterfeits ; let's think 't unsafe 
 To come in to the cry, without more help. 
 
 Rod. Nobody comes? then shall I bleed to deatk 
 
 Enter Iago, with a light. 
 
 Lod, Hark ! 
 
 Gra, Here's one comes in his shirt, with light 
 
 and weapons. 
 lago. Who's ilit-e? whose noise is this, that 
 
 cries on murdt-r? 
 Lod. We 'do not know. 
 
Scene 2. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 793 
 
 Ingo- Did yoii not hear a cry ? 
 
 Cos. Here, here ; for heaven's sake, help tne. 
 
 Ifigo. What's the matter ? 
 
 lira. This is Othello's ancient, as 1 take it. 
 
 Lod. The same, indeed ; a very valiant fellow. 
 
 laijo. What are you here that cry so grievously '! 
 
 Cas. lago ? O, f am spoil' d, undone by villains! 
 Give me home help. [this ? 
 
 lago. O me, lieutenant! wiiat ^ illains have done 
 
 Cas. 1 think that one of them is hereabout, 
 And cannot make away. 
 
 /'^•fo. O treacherous villains ! — 
 
 W hat are you there? rome in. and give some help. 
 { To Lodovico and Gratiano.) 
 
 Rod. O, help me here I 
 
 Cas. Tliat's one of them. 
 
 lago. O murderous slave ! O villain ! 
 
 {layo stabs Rod&rigo.) 
 
 Rod. O damn'd lago ! O iuhumuu dog ! — 
 0!0!0! 
 
 latjo. Kill men i'the dark! — Where be the.se 
 bloody thieves ! — 
 How silent is this town! — Ho ! murder! murder! 
 What may you be';" are you of good, or evil? 
 
 Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us. 
 
 lago. _ Signior Lodovico ? 
 
 Lod. He, sir. 
 
 lago. I cry you raercy : Here's Cassio hurt 
 
 By villains. 
 ■ Gra. Cassio '! 
 
 lago. How is it, brother ? 
 
 Cas. My leg is cut in two. 
 
 lago. Marry, heaven forbid I — 
 
 Light, gentlemen ; I'll bind it with my shirt. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Bian, What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry'd? 
 
 lago. Who is't that cry'd ? 
 
 Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! 
 
 Cassio! Cassio ! Cassio! [suspect 
 lago. O notable strumpet! — Cassio, may you 
 
 Who they should be, that have thus mangled you ? 
 
 Cas. No. 
 
 Gra. 1 am sorry to find you thus : I have been 
 to seek you. 
 
 lago. Lend me a garter: So. — O, for a chair. 
 To bear him easily lience ! 
 
 Bian. Alas, he faints : — O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio! 
 
 lago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash 
 To be a party in this injury. — 
 Patience a while, good Cassio. — Come, come ; 
 Lend me a light. — Know we this face, or no? 
 Alas ! my friend, and my dear countryman, 
 Roderigo ? no ; — Y^es, sure ; O heaven I Hoderigo. 
 
 Gra. What, of Venice ? 
 
 lago. Even he, sir; did you know him? 
 
 Cm. Know him? ay. 
 
 lago, Signior Gratiano ? 1 cry you gentle par- 
 don ; 
 These bloody accidents must excuse my manners. 
 That so neglected you. 
 
 Gra. I am glad to see you. 
 
 lago. How do you, Cassio? — O, a chair, a chair ! 
 
 Gra. Roderigo! 
 
 lago. He, he, 'tis he: — O, that's well said: — 
 the chair : — {A chair brought tn.) 
 
 Some good man bear him carefully from hence ; 
 
 1 II fetch the general's surgeon. — For you, mis- 
 
 tress, [To Bianca.) 
 
 Save you your labour. — He that lies slain here, 
 
 Cassio, 
 Was my dear friend : What malice was between 
 you ? 
 Cas. None in the world; nor do I know the man. 
 lago. {To Bian.) W^iiat, look you psle? — O, 
 bear him out o' the air. — 
 
 [Cassio and Rod. are borne off.) 
 Stay you, good gentlemen: — Look you pale, mis- 
 tress ? ( To, Bianca.) 
 Do you perceive the ghastness of her eye?— 
 
 Nay, if yon stare, we shall hear more anon : — 
 Behold her well ; I pray you, look upon her; 
 Do you see, gentlemen ? nay, guiltiness will speak. 
 Though tongues were out of use. 
 
 Enter Emilia. 
 
 Emit. 'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, 
 husband? 
 
 lago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark. 
 By Koderigo, and fellows that are scap'd ; 
 He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. 
 
 Emii. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! 
 
 lago. This is the fruit of whoring. — Pr'y thee, 
 Emilia, 
 
 Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night : 
 
 What, do you shake at that ? fsliake.noL 
 
 Bian. He supp'd at my house ; but I therefore 
 
 lago. O, did he so? I charge you go with me. 
 
 Emil. Fy, fy upon thee, strumpet! 
 
 Bian. 1 am no strumpet ; but of life as honest. 
 As you tiiat thus abuse me. 
 
 -K""'^- As I? fob ! fy npon thee ! 
 
 lago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio 
 dress'd : — 
 Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale.— 
 Emilia, run you to the citadel. 
 And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd.— 
 Will you go on, I pray? 'J'his is the night, [Aside.) 
 That either makes me, or fordoes me quite. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene II. — A Bedchamber: Desdemona in bed, 
 asleep. A light burning. 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 0th. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,— 
 Let me not name it to yon, you chaste stars ! — 
 It is the cause. — Yet I'll not shed her blood 
 Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow. 
 And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
 
 .Takes ojjf his sivord.) 
 I et she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
 Put out the light, and then put out the light: 
 If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
 I can again thy former light restore, 
 Should I repent me : — but once put out thine. 
 Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
 I know not where is that Promethean heat, 
 'Ithat can thy light relume. When I have plucl'd 
 
 thy rose, 
 I cannot give it vital growth again, 
 It needs must witiier ; — I'll smell it on the tree. — 
 
 [Kissing her.) 
 
 balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
 Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one 
 
 more. — 
 Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, 
 And love thee after:— One more, and this the last: 
 So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
 But they are cruel tears : This sorrow's heavenly 
 It strikes, where it doth love. — She wakes — 
 
 Ves. Who's there? Othello? 
 
 Oih. Ay, Desdemona. 
 
 Des. Will you come to bed, my lord ? 
 
 Of A. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? 
 
 l^es. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Oih. If you bethink yourself of any crime, 
 Unreconcif'd as yet to heaven and grace, 
 Solicit for it straight. 
 
 Des. Alas, my lord, what may yon mean by that? 
 
 0th. Well, do it, and be brief; 1 will walk by. 
 
 1 would not kill thy unprepared spirit ; 
 
 No, — Heaven forefend !— I would not kill thy son! 
 
 Des. Talk you of killing ? 
 
 0th. Ay, I do. 
 
 L>es. Then, heaven 
 
 Have raercy on me! 
 
 Ofh. Amen, with all my heart! 
 
 Des. If you say so, 1 hope yoO will not kill me. 
 
 0th. Humph! 
 
 Des. And yet I fear you ; for you are fatal then. 
 
794 
 
 OTHELLO, 
 
 Act V. 
 
 \7heii yimr eyes roll «o ; Why 5 should fear, I 
 
 know noL. 
 i>jij«;c <i;iltiiie>s I know not, but yet, i leel, I fear. 
 
 Gtti. Think on tliy sins, 
 
 tjes. They are loves 1 bear to yon. 
 
 (Hh. Ay, and for that thou diest. [in;,'. — 
 
 Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for lov- 
 A las, why ijnaw you so your nether lip ? 
 ''<ome bloody passion shakes your very irame: 
 T hese are portents ; but yet I hope, 1 hope, 
 They did not point on me. 
 
 0th. Peace, and be still ! 
 
 Des. I will so ; What's the matter i 
 
 0th. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd, and 
 gave thee, 
 Thou gav'st to Cassio. 
 
 Des. No, by my life and soul : 
 
 Send for the man, and ask him. 
 
 0th. Sweet soul, take heed. 
 
 Take heed of perjury; tiiou'rt on tiiy death-bed. 
 
 Des. Ay, but not yet to die. 
 
 0th. Yes, presently : 
 
 Therefore confess thee free'.y of thy sin; 
 For to deny each article with oath. 
 Cannot remove, nor choke, the stronp; conception. 
 That 1 do groan withal. Thou art to die. 
 
 Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me ! 
 
 Olh, I say, amen. 
 
 Des. And have you mercy too ! — I never did 
 Oftend you in my life : never lov'd Cassio, 
 Bui with such general warranty of heaven 
 As I mi^ht love: I never gave him token. 
 
 0th. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his 
 hand. 
 
 perjur'd woman ! thou dost stone my heart. 
 And mak'st me call, what I intend to do, — 
 A murder, which 1 thought a sacrifice : 
 
 i saw the handkerchief. 
 Des. He found it then ; 
 
 1 never gave it him : — Send for him hither, 
 And let him confess a truth. 
 
 Olh. He hath confess'd. 
 
 Des. What, my lord ? 
 
 0th. That he hath— iis'd thee. 
 
 Des. How ? unlawfully ? 
 
 0th. Ay. 
 
 Des. He'll not say so. 
 
 0th. No, his mouth is stopp'd : 
 
 Honest lago hath ta'en order for't. [dead i 
 
 Des. iVly fear interprets then, — What, is he 
 
 Olh. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge 
 Had stomach for them all. 
 
 Des. Alas ! he is betray'd, and I undone. 
 
 0th. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to 
 my lace ? 
 
 Oes. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not. 
 
 Olh. Down, strumpet ! 
 
 Des. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-uight. 
 
 0th. Nay, if you strive, — 
 
 Des. But half an hour. 
 
 Olh. Being done. 
 
 There is no pause. 
 
 Des. But while I say one prayer. 
 
 Olh. It is too late. [tie smothers her.) 
 
 Emit. {Within.) JMy lord! my lord! what ho! 
 my lord! my lord ! [quite dead t 
 
 Oth. Wliit noise is this? — Not dead? not yet 
 I, that am ctuel, am yet merciful; 
 J would not have thee linger in thy pain. — 
 So, so. 
 
 Emil. {Within.) What ho ! my lord ! my lord ! 
 
 Oth. Who's there? 
 
 Emil. { Within.) O, good my lord, I would speak 
 a word with you. 
 
 Oth. Yes; — 't!S Emilia: — by and by. — She's dead. 
 'Tis like sue comes to s eak of Ci-sio's death ; 
 The noise was high. — Ha! no nior*' moving? 
 Still as tile gra\e. Snail she come in :" Were't good ? 
 1 think, shf stirs af^aiu : — No. — What's t'le best? 
 ifshe come in, she'll sure speak, to tiv wife : 
 
 My wife! my wife^. what wife? — I hnve uo wife: 
 
 O, insupportable! O heavy hour! 
 
 Methinks it should be now'a huge eclipse 
 
 Of sun and moon ; and that the atfrighted globe 
 
 Should yawn at alteration. [with you. 
 
 Emit. {Withiti.) 1 do beseech you, I may speak 
 0, good my lord I 
 
 Oth. I had forgot thee : O, come in, Emilia : — 
 Soft, — by and by : — Let me the curtains draw. — 
 Where art thou ? What's the matter with thee 
 now? {Unlocks the door.) 
 
 Enter Emilu. 
 
 Emil. O, good my lord, yondei-'s foul nmrder 
 
 Olh. What? now? [done. 
 
 Emil. But now, my lord ! 
 
 Olh. It is the very error of the moon ; 
 She comes more near the earth than she was wont, 
 And makes men mad. [netian, 
 
 Emil. Cassio, my lord,, has kill'd a young Ve- 
 Call'd — Roderigo. 
 
 Olh. Roderigo kill'd ! 
 
 And Cassio kill'd? 
 
 Emil, No, Cassio is not kill'd. 
 
 Oth. Not Cassio kill'd ? Then murder's out of 
 And sweet revenge grows harsh. [tune 
 
 Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd ! 
 
 Emil. Alas ! what cry is that ? 
 
 Olh. That! what? 
 
 Emil. Out, and alas ! that was my lady's voice : — 
 Help! help! ho! help! — O lady, speak again! 
 Sweet Desdemona ! O, sweet mistress, speak ! 
 
 Des. A guiltless death 1 die. 
 
 Emil. O, who hath done 
 
 This deed ? 
 
 Des. Nobody, I myself; farewell: 
 
 Comnrend me to my kind lord ; O, farewell . [Dies.) 
 
 Oth. Why, how slioidd she be nuirder'd ? 
 
 Emil. Alas, who knows ? 
 
 Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. 
 
 Emil. She said so ; I must needs report the truth. 
 
 Olh. She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell • 
 'Twas I that kill'd her. 
 
 Emil, O, the more angel she, 
 
 And you the blacker devil ! 
 
 Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. 
 
 Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. 
 
 Oth. She was false as water. 
 
 Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say 
 
 That she was false ; O, she was heavenly true ! 
 
 Oth, Cassio did tup her: ask thy husband else. 
 O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, 
 But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
 To this extremity : Thy husband knew it all. 
 
 Emil. My husband ? 
 
 Olh. Thy husband. 
 
 Emil. That she was false to wedlock ? 
 
 Oth. Ay, with Cassio. 
 
 Nay, had she been true, 
 If heaven would make me such another world 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
 1 d not have sold her for iL 
 
 Emil. My husband ? 
 
 Olh. Ay, 'twas he that told me first ; 
 
 An honest man he is, and hates the slime 
 That sticks on filthy deeds. 
 
 Emil. My husband ? 
 
 Oth, What needs this iterance, W(mian ? I say, 
 thy husband. [love ! — 
 
 Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with 
 My husband say, that she was false ? 
 
 Oth, He, woman; 
 
 I say, thy husband : Dost understand the word ? 
 My friend, thy husband, honest, honest lago. 
 
 Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious .soul 
 Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart; 
 She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. 
 
 Oth. Ha! 
 
 Emil. Do thy worst ; 
 
 This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven. 
 
^CENB 2. 
 
 THE MOOR OF VENICE. 
 
 795 
 
 Than thou wast worthy her. 
 
 0th. Peace, you were best. 
 
 Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me 
 harm. 
 As I have to be hurt. O gull ! O dolt ! 
 
 As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed, 
 
 I care not for thy sword ; III make thee known. 
 Though I lost twenty lives ;— Help ! help, ho ! help ! 
 The Moor has kill'd my mistress ; Murder ! murder ! 
 
 Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago. 
 
 Mon. What is the matter? — How now, general? 
 
 Emil. O, are you come, Iago ? you have done well. 
 That men must lay their murders on your neck. 
 
 Gra. What is the matter^ 
 
 Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man: 
 He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false : 
 
 know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain; 
 Speak, for my heart is full. [more 
 
 Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no 
 Than what he found himself was apt and true. 
 
 Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false ? 
 
 Iago. I did. 
 
 Emil. You told a lie ; an odious, damned lie ; 
 Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie : — 
 She false with Cassio !— Did you say with Cassio ? 
 
 Iago. Witli Cassio, mistress : Go to, charm your 
 tongue. [to speak: 
 
 Emil. I will not charm my tongue ; I am bound 
 My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. 
 
 All. O heavens forefend! 
 
 Emil. And your reports have set the murder on. 
 
 Otii. Nay, stare not, masters ; it is true, indeed. 
 
 Gra, 'Tis a strange truth. 
 
 Mon. O monstrous act ! 
 , tlmil. Villany, villany, villany !— 
 
 I thmk upon't,— I think,— I smell't;— O villany!— 
 I thought so then;— I'll kill myself for grief.— 
 
 villany, villany! 
 
 Iago. What, are you mad ? I charge you get 
 you home. [speak ; 
 
 Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to 
 'Tis proper I obey hiin. but not now;— 
 Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. 
 
 Otk. O ! O ! O ! {Hanging over his wife.) 
 
 Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ; 
 
 For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, 
 That e'er did lift up eye. 
 
 0th. O, she was foul ! — 
 
 [Rising.) 
 
 1 scarce did know you, uncle : There lies your 
 
 niece, [stopp'd: 
 
 W hose breath, indeed, these hands have newly 
 I know, this act shews horrible and grim. 
 
 Gra, Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's 
 dead ; 
 Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 
 Shore his old thread in twain : did he live now. 
 This sight would make him do a desperate turn. 
 Yea, curse his better angel from his side. 
 And fall to reprobation. 
 
 0th. 'Tis pitiful ; but yet Iago knows. 
 That she with Cassio hath the act of shame 
 A thousand times committed : Cassio confess'd it : 
 And she did gratify his amorous works 
 VVith that recognizance and pledge of love 
 Which I first gave her ; I saw it in his hand ; 
 It was a handkerchief, an antique token 
 My father gave my motlier. 
 
 Emil, O heavens ! O heavenly powers ! 
 
 Iago. Come, hold your peace. 
 
 Emii. 'Twill out, 'twill out;— I hold my peace, 
 sir ? no ; 
 No, I will speak as liberal as the air; 
 Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all. 
 All. ail, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. 
 
 kuijo. Be wise, and get you home. 
 
 Emil I will not. 
 
 {Iago offers to stab his wife.) 
 
 Gra. Fy 1 
 
 Your sword upon a woman ? 
 
 Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thoa 
 speak'st of, 
 I found by fortune, and did give my husband ; 
 For often, with a solenm earnestness, 
 (More than, indeed, belon^'d to such a trifle,) 
 He begg'd of me to steal it. 
 
 I^yo- Villanous whore ! 
 
 Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it, 
 And I did give't my husband. 
 
 M?; „ Filth, thou best. 
 
 Emil. By heaven, I do not ; I do not, gentlemen 
 
 murderous coxcou)b! what should such a fool 
 Do with so good a wife ? 
 
 ' [Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out. 
 
 0th. Are there no stunes iu heaven. 
 
 But what^ serve for the thunder ?— Precious villain .' 
 
 Gra. The woman falls ; sure, he has kiU'd his 
 wife. 
 
 Emil. Ay, ay; O, lay me by my mistress' side I 
 
 Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. 
 
 Mon, 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this 
 weapon, 
 Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: 
 Come, guard the door without ; let liim not pass. 
 But kill him rather; I'll after that same villain, 
 For 'tis a damned slave. 
 
 [Exeunt Montana and Gratiano. 
 
 0th. I am not valiant neither. 
 
 But every puny whipster gets my sword :— 
 But why should honour outlive honesty ? 
 Let it go all. 
 
 Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ? 
 
 Hark, can'st tliou hear me ? I will play the swan. 
 
 And die in music ; — Willoiv, ivilloiv, willow. 
 
 Moor, she was chaste; she loy'd thee, cruel Moor; 
 
 So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ; 
 
 So speaking as I think, I die,— I die. {Dies.) 
 
 0th, I have another weapon iu this chamber. 
 It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper; — 
 O, here it is :— Uncle, I must come forth. 
 
 Gra. {Within.) If thou attempt it, it will cost thea 
 dear; 
 Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. 
 
 0th. Look in upon me then, and speak with me 
 Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. 
 
 Re-enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. What is the matter ? 
 
 0th. Behold ! i have a weapon; 
 
 A better never did itself sust;iin 
 Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day. 
 That, with this little arm, and tiiis good sword, 
 
 1 have made my way through more impediments 
 Than twenty times your stop:— But, O vain boast.' 
 Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. 
 
 Be not afraid, though you do .see me weapon'd ; 
 
 Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
 
 And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
 
 Do you go back dismay 'd ? 'tis a lost fear; 
 
 Man but a rush against Othello's breast. 
 
 And he retires :— Where should Othello 70?— 
 
 Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill starr d wench! 
 
 Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt. 
 
 This look of thine will hurl my soid from heaven. 
 
 And fiends will snatch at it Cold, cold, my girl ? 
 
 Even like thy chastity. — 
 
 O cursed, cursed slave !— Whip me, ye devils, 
 
 From the possession of this heavenly sight ! 
 
 Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! 
 
 Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire !— 
 
 O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead? 
 
 Dead i" O ! O ! O ! 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio, carried in 1 
 chair, and Officers, ivith Iago, pr/so7ter. 
 
 Lod. Where is this rash and mobt uufortunat 
 
 man ? 
 0th. That's he, that was Othello; here I am 
 Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. 
 
79C 
 
 OTHELLO, THE MOOR OP VENICE. 
 
 Act V. 
 
 0th. 1 look d)wn towards his feet; — but that's 
 a fable : 
 If that thou be'sl a devil, I cannot kill thee. 
 
 {Othello wounds lago.) 
 
 IjocI. Wrench his swo*d from him. 
 
 ln(]o. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. 
 
 Jth. I am not sorry neithei ; I'd have thee live ; 
 Por, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. 
 
 Lod. d thou Othello, that was once so good, 
 Fall'n in the practice of a cursed slave. 
 What shall be said io thee ? 
 
 0th. Why, any thing : 
 
 An honourable murderer, if you vvill ; 
 For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. 
 
 Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany : 
 Did vou and he consent in Cassio's death ? 
 
 Oih. Ay. 
 
 Cos. Dear general, I never gave you cause. 
 
 Ot/i. 1 do believe it, and I ask your pardon. 
 Will you, I pray you, demand that demi devil. 
 Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body ? 
 
 lago. Demand me nothing : What you know, you 
 know : 
 From this time forth I never will speak word. 
 
 Lod. What? not to pray ? 
 
 (ira. Torments will ope your lips. 
 
 0th. Well, thou dost best. 
 
 Ijod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n. 
 Which, as 1 think, you know not : Here is a letter, 
 Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; 
 And iiere, another: the one of theni imports 
 The death of Cassio to be undertook 
 By Roderigo. 
 
 0th. O villain .' 
 
 Cos. Most heathenish, and most gross ! 
 
 Lod. Now here's another discontented paper. 
 Found ill his pocket too ; and this, it seems, 
 Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; 
 But that, belike, Fago in the interim 
 Came in and satisfied him. 
 
 OtL O the pernicious caitiff! — 
 
 How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief 
 Tiiat was my wife's'/ 
 
 Cos. I found it in my chamber : 
 
 And he himself confess'd, but even now. 
 That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose, 
 ^V hich wrought to his desire. 
 
 Otk. _ O fool! fool '.fool! 
 
 Vas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter.— 
 Hew he raiils (ago, that he made him 
 
 Brave me upon tne watch ; whereon it came 
 That I was cast: And even but now he spake, 
 After long seeming dead, — lago hurt him, 
 lago set him on. 
 
 Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with ni; 
 Your power and your command is taken otf. 
 And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, — 
 If there be any cunning cruelty, 
 That can torment him much, and hold him long. 
 It shall be his: You shall close prisoner rest, 
 Till that the nature of your fault be known 
 To the Venetian state : — Come, bring him away. 
 
 0th. Soft you ; a word or two, before you go. 
 I have done the state some service, and they know it; 
 No more of that: — I pray you, in your letters. 
 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate. 
 Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate. 
 Nor set down aught in malice : then must you spea* 
 Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well ; 
 Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 
 Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,. 
 Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away. 
 Richer than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdu'd eyes, 
 Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
 Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
 Their medicinal gum : Set you down this ; 
 And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, 
 Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk 
 Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, 
 I took by the throat the circumcised dog. 
 And smote him — thus. [Stabs himself.) 
 
 Lod. O bloody period ! 
 
 Gra. All, that's spoke, is marrd. 
 
 0th. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee :— No way 
 
 but this, {Falling upon Desdeonona.) 
 
 Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies.] 
 
 Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no 
 weapon ; 
 For he was great of heart. 
 
 Lod. O Spartan dog. 
 
 More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea ! 
 Look on the tragic loading of this bed ; {To lago.) 
 This is thy work . the object poisons sight • — 
 Let it be hid. — Gratiano, keep the house, 
 And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor. 
 For they succeed to you. — To you, lord governor. 
 Remains the censure of this hellish villain; 
 The time, the place, the torture, — O enl'oice it! 
 Myself will straiglit aboard ; and, to tlie state, 
 Tliis heavy act with heavy heait relate. [&X 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 OF OUSOLETE V OKPS, AND OF WORDS VAKYING FROM THEIR ORDINARY SIGNIFICATUJ?:, 
 
 ^ImtB, to depress, sink, subdue. 
 
 A B C, a c^Urchism. 
 
 A.bhor,to protest asainst. 
 
 Abjects, debased servile persons. 
 
 Abe, to qualify or upbold. 
 
 Abortive, is>ii>ng before its time. 
 
 Absolute, lomplcle, perfect. 
 
 Ab'isc, deception. 
 
 Abused, deceived. 
 
 Abv, to pay dear for, to rue, to suSer. 
 
 Abvsin, abyss. 
 
 Accitc, to lite or summon. 
 
 Acruse, accusation. 
 
 Arbieve, to obtain. 
 
 Acoiiitiiin, wolf's bane. 
 
 Acfluittance, reciuital. 
 
 Action, direction by mute signs, cliarge 
 
 or aiTusalion. 
 Actiou taking, litigious. 
 Actures, actions. 
 Addiiions, titles or characters. 
 Address, to prepare, to make ready. 
 Addressed, oraddreil, ready. 
 Admittance, favour 
 Advance, to preler. 
 Advertising, attentive. 
 Adversity, contrariety. 
 Advertisement, admonition. 
 Advice, consideration, discretion, 
 
 thought. 
 Advise, to consider, to recollect. 
 .4ery or Aiery. a hawk's or eagle's nesf 
 Affect the letter, to practise alteration. 
 Affect, hue. 
 
 Affection, affectation, imagination. 
 Affectioned, affected. 
 Affects, alVections. 
 Affeered. confirmed. 
 Allied, betrothed. 
 Alfined,, joined by affinity. 
 Affront, lo ci'iifrout. 
 Affy, to betrrth. 
 
 Aglet haby, a liiminutive being, not 
 exceediiis ihe tag of a point, from 
 aiffiiilie'les. 
 Agnize, acknowledge, confess, vow. 
 A-good, in guild earoeit. 
 Aim, guess, suspicion. 
 Airy famf , mere verbal eulogy. 
 Aider liefest, best beloved. 
 Ale. a merrv-meirtii.g. 
 A'life, at life. 
 Allow, to Mpprove. 
 .Allowance, aiiprobatioft. 
 .4maze, to perplex. 
 Amazonian chin, a beardless chin. 
 Ames ace, the lowest chaace of the 
 
 dice. 
 Amiss, misfortune. 
 Amort, dispirited. 
 An, as if. ., 
 
 Anchor, a hermit. 
 
 Ancient, an eQsign,or standard-bearer. 
 Angle, a ti.shing-rod. 
 Anight, in :he nif^ht. 
 Answer, reiHliHtion. 
 Anthropophagi, cainibals. 
 Antick, the foo! of the old play. 
 Antiquity, old age. 
 Antres, caves and dens. 
 Appeach, lo miueach. 
 Appeal, to acciise. 
 Appeared, made apparent. 
 Apple .John, an apple that will keep 
 
 for two years. 
 Apply, to attend to, consider. 
 Appointment, preparation. 
 Apprehensio'i. opinion. 
 Apprehensive, quick of com prehension 
 Approbaiioii, entry or probation. 
 Approof, approbation prool'. 
 Approve, to jusiify, prove, establish. 
 Approved, e\perienced. 
 Approvers, those who try. 
 Aqua vita!, strong waters, probably 
 
 usquebaugh. 
 Arabian bird, (he phoenix. 
 Arch, chief. 
 Argentine, silver. 
 Argei^tiiie, the goddess Diana. 
 Argier, Alg ers. 
 
 .Irgosies. si. ins laden with great wealth 
 Argument, sub ect for conversation, 
 
 evideiici-, proof. 
 Arm, to t ike uji in (he arms. 
 Aroint, avannt, begone. 
 A row, sui< essively. 
 Art, proline as distinguished from 
 
 iheor* a;io, theory. 
 Articiilaie, i.- fit er in o adicle.s. 
 riviina! '< lenious. artful. 
 
 As, as if. 
 
 Ascaunt, askew, sideways. 
 
 Aspi-ct, countenance. 
 
 Aspersion, sprinkling. 
 
 As point, completely armed. 
 
 Assay, test. 
 
 Ascapart, a giant. 
 
 Assinego, a male a.ss. 
 
 -Astriuger, a gentleman falconer. 
 
 Assurance, conveyance or deed. 
 
 Assured, aliianced. 
 
 Ales, instigate from .\.te, the goddess 
 
 ol bloodshed. 
 Atomics, minute particles vsible in 
 
 tlie sun's rays. 
 Attasked, taken to task. 
 Attended, waited for. 
 Attent, attentive. 
 Aione, to reconcile. 
 At' ^st, attestation. 
 Attorney, deputation. 
 Attorneyship, the discretional agency 
 
 of another. 
 Attornied, supplied by substitution of 
 
 embassies. 
 Audacious, spirited, animated. 
 Audrey, a corruption ol h^lhelrea. 
 Augurs prognostications. 
 Aiikuard. adverse. 
 Anns, strumpets. 
 Authentic, learned. 
 Awful, reverend. 
 Awlrss, failing to produce awe. 
 
 B. 
 
 Baccare, stand back, give place. 
 
 Bairn, brushwood. 
 
 IS.iliirick, a belt. 
 
 Bale, misery. 
 
 Baleful, baneful. 
 
 Balked, bathed or piled up. 
 
 Ballase, ballast. 
 
 Balm, the oil of consecration. 
 
 Ban. curse. 
 
 Band, bond. 
 
 Bandog, village dog. 
 
 Bandy, to extiiange smartly. 
 
 Bank, to sail along bank.s. 
 
 Banning, cursing. 
 
 Banquet, a slight repast. 
 
 Bar, barrier. 
 
 Barbason, the name of a demon. 
 
 Barbe. a kind of veil. 
 
 Barbed, warlikely caparisoned. 
 
 Baiber-nionger,an associate of bailbers. 
 
 Bare, to shave. 
 
 Bare, mere. 
 
 Bai.'ul, full of impediments. 
 
 Barm, yeast. 
 
 Barn, or bairn, a child. 
 
 Barnacles, h shell tish. 
 
 Barns, ki eps in a barn. 
 
 Barren, ignorant. 
 
 Base, dishonoured. 
 
 Base, a rustic game called prison base. 
 
 Bases, a kind of loose breeches worn 
 by equestrian knifthts. 
 
 Basilisks, a species ol cannon. 
 
 Basta, 'tis enough. 
 
 Ba.stard, raisin wine. 
 
 Bat, a club. 
 
 Bate, strife. 
 
 Bate, to flutter as a hawk. 
 
 Batlet,an instrument with which wash- 
 ers used to beat clothes. 
 
 Batten, to grow fat. 
 
 Battle, army. 
 
 Bawcock, a jolly fellow. 
 
 Bay, tiie s'(. tee between the |main 
 lieams of a house. 
 
 Bay curtal, a bay docked horse 
 
 Bay window, a bow-window. 
 
 Beadsmen, religious persons, main 
 taiiicit to praj for their benefactor. 
 
 Be?k, tiie forecastle. 
 
 Beaf a brain, perfectly resemble. 
 
 Beard, to defy. 
 
 Bearing, demeanour. 
 
 Bearing dotii, a mantle used at christ- 
 eiiii'gs. 
 
 Beat, (in falconry) to liufter. 
 
 Beating, liamuuring, duelling upon. 
 
 Beaver, helmet in gi:neral. 
 
 Beck, a silntetion made with the head. 
 
 Becomed, Irccoiiiiiig, 
 
 Beetle, to bans over the base. 
 
 Behave, to manage. 
 
 Beliests, ciinmands. 
 
 Brliolding, viewing with regard. 
 
 Beliovl, to bowl at. 
 
 He nu, ;-l"iile. 
 
 Beldame, uacient mother. 
 
 Be lee'd, becalmed. 
 
 Belongings, endowments. 
 
 Be mete, be measure. 
 
 Be moiled, bedraggled, bemired 
 
 Bending, nneqiialto the weight. 
 
 Benetit, beneficiary. 
 
 Bent, utmost degree of any pesslon. 
 
 Benumbed, inflexible. 
 
 Beshrew, may ill beiall. 
 
 Besmirch, to foul or dirty. 
 
 Best, hiavest. 
 
 Bestowed, stowed away, lodged 
 
 Bestraught, distracted. 
 
 Beteem, to give, pour out. peroiit, 
 
 suffer. 
 Bewray, betray. 
 Bezunnim, a mean fellow. 
 Bias cheek, swelling out like 'bs biai 
 
 of a bowl. 
 Bid, lo invite. 
 
 Bid the base to challenge in a contest 
 Bifold, two fold 
 Biggin, a cap 
 Bilberry, the hortleberiy. 
 Bilbo, a Sj;anish blade, made at Bilboa 
 Bilboes, fetters. 
 Bill, articles of aecu.sati n. 
 Bill, a weapon, formerly carried by 
 
 watchmen. 
 Bin, is. 
 Bird-bolt, an arrow shot at birds from 
 
 a cross-bow. 
 Bisson, blind. 
 
 Blank, the white mark in a target. 
 Blank and level, mark and aim (terms 
 
 of gunntry). 
 Blaze of youth, the spring of early life. 
 Blear, to deceive. 
 Blench, to start off, to fly off. 
 Blent, blended 
 
 Blind -worms, the ca;cilia, or slow- 
 worm. 
 
 Blood b iltered, daubed with blood. 
 Blown, puffed up, swollen. 
 
 Blows, syvells. 
 
 Bloody, sanguine. 
 
 Blue caps, the Scotch. 
 
 Blunt .stupid, insensible. 
 
 Blurt, blurted, au expression of con- 
 tempt. 
 
 Board, to accost. 
 
 Bobb, to trick. 
 
 Bodged, boggled clumsy. 
 
 Bodkin, a small dagger. 
 
 Boiled, silted. 
 
 Bolting hutch, the receptacle in which 
 the meal is bolted. 
 
 Bombard, i^r bumbard, a barrel. 
 
 Bombast, the stiittiiii; of cloihes. 
 
 Bona robas, strumpets. 
 
 Bond, bounden duty. 
 
 Bonv or benny, handsome. 
 
 Book, paper of conditions. 
 
 Boot, profit, sonielhipg over and aijovs 
 
 Bore, demeaned. 
 
 Bore, the calibre of a g-i;u. 
 
 Bore.^, stabs. 
 
 Bosky, woody. 
 
 Bosom, wish, heart's desire. 
 
 Bots, worms i,i a horse's .<>tomac!i. 
 
 Bourn, boundary, rivulet. 
 
 Bow, yoke. 
 
 Bolds, emboldens 
 
 Bollered, bedaubed. 
 
 Borne in hand, deceived. 
 
 Bottled spidc.', a large bloated spider. 
 
 Boulled, sifeu. 
 
 liowlins, or bowlines, tacUe of a ship. 
 
 Bollen, swollen. 
 
 Bordered, restrained. 
 
 Bower, a chamber. 
 
 Brace, armour for the arm. 
 
 Brach, a hound. 
 
 Brack, lo salt. 
 
 Braid, crafiy, deceitful. 
 
 Brain's flow', tears. 
 
 Brake, an insiruinent of torture : also 
 a thicket. 
 
 Brands, a part of the andirons om which 
 tlie woi'd for the lire was supported. 
 
 Brasier, a manufaciurerof brass ; also, 
 H vessel in which jharcoal is burned. 
 
 Brave, to defy, also to make fine. 
 
 Bravely, splendidly, gallantly. 
 
 Bravery, finery. 
 
 Brawl, a kind of dance. 
 
 Braying, harsh, gialing. 
 
 Break , to begin. 
 
 Break un, to carve. 
 
 Break with, to break (he matter to. 
 
 Breast, voice, x 
 
 Breath, speccb, 
 
im 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Brea'bina courtesy, more veibal com- 
 pliineiit. 
 
 KretchcQ, fiiuliy sheathtd, mirecl. 
 
 ISieerhing, liiiljli^ to be flosged. 
 
 Breailird. inured by constant practice. 
 
 Breatlie, to irtler. 
 
 Brerd-'oule, an exciter of quarrels. 
 
 Bribe buck, a bucic sent as a bribe. 
 
 Hrid^il, tue nuptial feast. 
 
 Ijriag, to aitPiid or accompany. 
 
 Brize, the gad, or horse fly. 
 
 Broach, to put on tlie spit, to transfix. 
 
 Brock, the l)ailger. 
 
 Brogues, a l^iuii of shoes. 
 
 Broken, coniinunifated. 
 
 Broker, a inatcli-nialLer, a procuress. 
 
 BroocI.ed, adorned. 
 
 Brought , atlendeil. 
 
 Brow of voiitli, theheiglit of youlli. 
 
 Brown bill, a battle axe. 
 
 Browiiist, a foilower of Brown, sec- 
 tarian. 
 
 Bruising irons, an allusion to the au- 
 oieiit mace. 
 
 Bruil, report with clamour. 
 
 Brush of time, decay of time. 
 
 Bug, bugbears, false terrors. 
 
 Bumbanl, a large drinking vessel. 
 
 Bung, a cut purse. 
 
 Bunting, a bird. 
 
 BurgiMiet, a helmet. 
 
 Husky, woody. 
 
 Billt-^h;^ll, an arrow to ghootat shafts 
 with. 
 
 Buxoiri, obedient. 
 
 By'riakeu, by our lady. 
 
 C. 
 
 Caddis, worsted lace. 
 
 Cade, a baiTel. 
 
 Caileut, falling. 
 
 Cage, a orison. 
 
 Caio-c oloured, yellow. 
 
 Caitiff, a scoundrel. 
 
 ('alcuiate, to forctoll. 
 
 ("ali \rj', a nuisket. 
 
 (-'all, to visit. 
 
 Callet, a woman, a witch. 
 
 Calling, ap ellation. 
 
 Calm, i|ualin. 
 
 Ch.'nelot, a |ilace where King Arthur is 
 
 su(ii)ose(l to have kept 'jis court. 
 Cauar *'. a dance. 
 Cuncl'.a waiters, tho';8 who sit up all 
 
 nigiit to diink. 
 Cr.nker. the dog rose. 
 Ca.,<tick, candlestick. 
 Caiilons, cantos. 
 Canvas, to sift. 
 Ca.ivas climber, a sailor. 
 Cap, ihe lop. the chief 
 Cap, to salute by takins off the cap. 
 Capable impressure, hollow mark. 
 Capitulate, to make head against. 
 Caporchia, a sot. 
 Capon, metaphor for a letter. 
 Capricious, lascivious. 
 Captions, capacious. 
 Carack, a ship of great bulk. 
 Caracts, characters. 
 Carbonado, a piece of meat cut cross- 
 ways for the gridiron. 
 Cari, a sea chart, perhaps also the 
 
 compass. 
 Carded, mixed. 
 Care, inclination. 
 Careires, the iimtion of a horse; to 
 
 pass thecareires, means tooverstep 
 
 the ho\inds of decorum. 
 Carkanet, a necklace. 
 Carl, clown, boor. 
 Carlot. peasant. 
 Carnal, sanguinary, 
 f'arow ses, drinks. 
 Carriage, import. 
 Ca— led, conducted. 
 Carry, to prevail over. 
 Cart, a chariot. 
 Case, skin, iintward garb. 
 Case of lives, a set of lives. 
 Casfjues, helmets. 
 Cassock, a horseman's loose coat. 
 Oasf, to empty : also dismiss, reject. 
 Cast, reckooetl. 
 
 .'aiiiliau, an ojiprobrioiis terra. 
 Castiliano vulgo, a cant terro of con- 
 
 'einijt . 
 Cast ii,,s. l.-ft off lip.s. 
 'ast tiie water, to hnd out disorders by 
 _ Inspectnig the urine. 
 
 atHiau, a liar 
 C'.linig, a small lulestring, made of 
 
 calgut. 
 Cavaiero justice, a cant term. 
 Cav.aierues. gay fellows. 
 Caxiare, too good lor, or above the 
 
 L'o.nprehension of: so called' frcun 
 
 a'delicacr made of tbe roe of stur- 
 
 geons, eaten by the quality. 
 
 (laiilei, subtlety. 
 
 Cautel or cantle, (he comer, or piece 
 of anything. 
 
 Cautelous, insidious, cautious. 
 
 Cearment. the wrapping of an em- 
 balmed body. 
 
 Cease, decease. 
 
 Censure, to give an opinion. 
 
 Centuries, compauies of an hundred 
 men each. 
 
 Ceremonious, superstitious. 
 
 Certes, certainly. 
 
 Cess, measuie, tax or subsidv. 
 
 Chair, throne. 
 
 Chaliced, i. e. flowers, with cup.s, from 
 catix 
 
 Challenge, the right of refusing a iwy- 
 man. 
 
 Chamber, ancient name fo London; 
 also, a piece of orduauce. 
 
 Chamberers, intriguers. 
 
 Champiau, an open country. 
 
 Chantry, a small chapel in a cathedral. 
 
 Character, hand-wnting. 
 
 Charactery, the matter with which let- 
 ters are made. 
 
 Chares, task- work. 
 
 Charge-house, free school. 
 
 Chariest, most cautious. 
 
 Chariness, caution. 
 
 Charitable, dear, endearing. 
 
 Charles-wain, the constellation caMed 
 the bear. 
 
 Charm your tongue, he silent. 
 
 Charmer, one who deals in magic. 
 
 Cliarueco, a sweet wine. 
 
 Chance, fortune. 
 
 Chary, cautious. 
 
 Chases, a term in tennis. 
 
 Chaudron, entrails 
 
 Cheater, for escheatour, an officer in 
 the Exchequer. 
 
 Checks, probably for ethics. 
 
 Cheer, cuuuteuauce. 
 
 Cherry pit, a game with cherry stones. 
 
 Clieveril,soft leather; also. conscience. 
 
 Chew, to ruminate, consider. 
 
 Chewct, a chattering bird. 
 
 Chide, to resound, to echo; also, to 
 scold, he clamourous. 
 
 Chifjing, sound; noisy. 
 
 Chrld, a knight, a hero. 
 
 Child, a female infant. 
 
 Childing, unseasonably pregnant. 
 
 Chopine, a high shoe. 
 
 Chough, a bird of the daw species 
 
 Chrislom or chrisom, the white cloth 
 put on a new baptized child. 
 
 Chuck, chicken, a terra of endearment. 
 
 Chirtt>rich, avaricious. 
 
 Chopping, jabbe.'-ing. 
 
 Cicatrice, the scar of a wound. 
 
 Circummured, walled round. 
 
 Circumstance, conduct, detail, circum- 
 locution. 
 
 Cite, incite. 
 
 Cital, recital. 
 
 Civil, grave, solemn. 
 
 Civil, human 
 
 Cittern, a musical instrument. 
 
 Clack dish, a beggar's dish. 
 
 Camour, a term in bell-ringing 
 
 Clap-in, fall to. 
 
 Clapped i'l he clout , hit the white mark. 
 
 Clap, to join hands. 
 
 Claw, 10 flatter. 
 
 Clean, completely. 
 
 Clean kam, awry. 
 
 Clear, pure. 
 
 Clearest, purest. 
 
 Clepe, to call. 
 
 Clerkly, learned, scliolar like 
 
 Cling, todry, oi- shrink up. 
 
 Clinquanl, glittering. 
 
 Clipt, embraced. 
 
 Clout, the white mark at which archers 
 shoot. 
 
 Clouted, hobnailed. 
 
 Coach fellow, one who draws with a 
 confederate. 
 
 Coasting, conciliatory. 
 
 Codling, an unripe apple. 
 
 Cob loaf, a crusty, uneven loaf. 
 
 Cock, cock boat. 
 
 Cock and pye, a vulgar oath. 
 
 Corksliut tiine, twilight. 
 
 Cockle, a corn-weed. 
 
 Co( kle hat, a pilgrim's hat. 
 
 Codding, amorous. 
 
 Codpiece, a part of the dress. 
 
 Collin, (he cavity of a raised pie. 
 
 Cog, to cheat with dice, to lie. 
 
 Cognizance, badge or token. 
 
 Copging, lying. 
 
 tjoigne of vauiage, convenient comer. 
 
 Coi^nes. corners. 
 
 Coil, bustle, stir. 
 
 Cold, naked " 
 
 Collection, ronsequeace, WOoUary 
 
 Collied, black, smutteu. 
 
 Colt, to triok. 
 
 Co-mart, a. joint bargWH. 
 
 Come of, to pay. 
 
 Come of will, to succeetj. 
 
 Co meddled, rainglftl 
 
 Comhinate, betrothed. 
 
 Comfort, to aid, 
 
 Co.nfortiug, abetting. 
 
 Comma, connection. 
 
 Commission. aulhoritT. 
 
 Commend, commit. 
 
 Committed, lain with. 
 
 Commodity, self intereti 
 
 Commonly, a comedy. 
 
 Compact, made up of. 
 
 Companies, companions. 
 
 Com(iare, comparison. 
 
 Comparative, a dealer in coropari'on^. 
 
 Compassed, round. 
 
 Compassed cape, a round cape. 
 
 Compassed window, a bow w indow. 
 
 Compassionate, plaintive. 
 
 Compose, to come to a composition. 
 
 Coniposture, composiliou. 
 
 Composition, bargain; also, coQ»J> 
 tency. 
 
 Competitors, confederates. 
 
 Ccmiplemeuts, accomplishmeu's. 
 
 Complexi<ni, humour. 
 
 Comply, to compliment. 
 
 Comptible, submissive. 
 
 Conceit, imagination, wit, idea. 
 
 Conceited, ingenious. 
 
 Concent, connected Imrmony. 
 
 Conclusions, experiments. 
 
 Concupy, coticupiscence. 
 
 Condole'ment, sorrow. 
 
 Conduct, conductor. 
 
 Coney catched, tricked. 
 
 Coney-caleher, a cheat. 
 
 Confession, profession. 
 
 Contineless, boundless. 
 
 Confound, to destroy. 
 
 Conjecl, conjecture. 
 
 Consent, will, conspiracy. 
 
 Consider, reward. 
 
 Consigned, .sealed. 
 
 Consist stand. 
 
 Consort, company. 
 
 Couspectuity, sight. 
 
 Conslancy, con.sistcncy. 
 
 Constant. y, certainly. 
 
 Conlenipfible, contempt aatss, 
 
 Contmuate, uriinlerrupted. 
 
 Continue, to sjiend. 
 
 Continent, containing. 
 
 Contraction, marriage-contract- 
 
 Contrarious, ditlereiit. 
 
 Contrary to contradict 
 
 Contrive, to spend, to wear out. 
 
 ConU'ol. confute 
 
 Convents, agrees, is convenient. 
 
 Couvented, summoned. 
 
 Conversion, change of condition. 
 
 Converse, associate, interchange 
 
 Convertite, a convert. 
 
 Convey, to steal. 
 
 Conveyance, slight of hand, theft 
 
 Conveyers, thieves. 
 
 Conveyed himself, derived his title. 
 
 Convicted, overpowered, baffled. 
 
 Convince, to convict, to subdue. 
 
 Convive, to feast. 
 
 Copalain hat, a hat with a conical 
 crown. 
 
 Cope, encounter, covering 
 
 Copped, rising to a top or head. 
 
 Copy, theme. 
 
 Coragio, courage, be of good cheer. 
 
 Corinth, a brothel. 
 
 Corinthian, a wencher. 
 
 Corky, dry, withered. 
 
 Corollary, sui-plus. 
 
 Corporal, corjioreal. 
 
 Corrigible, corrected 
 
 Costara-nioiiger, a dealer in costers o» 
 apides. 
 
 Cote, to OT i-rtake. 
 
 Coted, quoted, regarded. 
 
 Cot-ale, Cotswood in Gloucst 
 
 Coucli, to lie with. 
 
 Count, to reckon upon. 
 
 Countenance favour; also, false ap- 
 pearance, hypocrisy. 
 
 Counter, a hunting term. 
 
 Counter-caster, one who reckons 
 counters. 
 
 Counter-check, a term in chess. 
 
 Counieiftit, a portrait. 
 
 Counterpointa, counterpanes. 
 
 Country, count, earl. 
 
 Coiiplement, a couple. 
 
 Courses the m^tinsail and foNVaU. 
 
 Court -Clipboard sideboard. 
 
 Court r.oufe asyiu'ious nob 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 799 
 
 Oocrt holy-water, flattery. 
 
 Ccyered. hollow. 
 
 Cov^ed, awtfd. 
 
 Oower. to sink down. 
 
 CowIst;;tl', a stait" used in carrj'mg a 
 liatket. 
 
 Coy, to soothe. 
 
 Coyed. yielded relnctanlly. 
 
 Coystril, a coward cock, a poltroon. 
 
 Cozier, a lailor, a botcher. 
 
 Crack, dissolution ; also a boy-child. 
 
 Cranks, windings. 
 
 Crankinij or craukling, the rush of a 
 river. 
 
 Grants, garlands. 
 
 Crare, a small trading vessel. 
 
 Crash, to be merry o\er. 
 
 Craven, a cowardly cock, mean, cow- 
 ardly. 
 
 Create, toinpounded, made up of. 
 
 Credent, credible. 
 
 Credit, account, information, credu- 
 lity. 
 
 Cressets, lights set upon a beacon. 
 
 C«es3ive, increasing. 
 
 Crest, the summit. 
 
 Crestless, llio.se who have no right to 
 armorial bearings. 
 
 Crewel, worsted. 
 
 Crisp, curled, winding. 
 
 Critic, cynic. 
 
 Critical, censorious. 
 
 Crone, a very old woman. 
 
 Crosses, money stamped with a cross, 
 
 Crow-keeuer, a scarecrow. 
 
 Crownet, last purpose. 
 
 Crulentious cruel. 
 
 Crusado, a Portuguese coin. 
 
 Crush, to driiik. 
 
 Crush a ciip, to crack a bottle. 
 
 Cry, a pack of hounds. 
 
 Cry aim, to encourage. 
 
 Crystals, the eyes. 
 
 Cub drawn, alluding to a bear who»e 
 dugs are dry. 
 
 Cue. a iheauical term, the last word 
 of (he preceding speech. 
 
 Cuisses. armour for the thighs. 
 
 Cullion, a paltry fellow. 
 
 Cunnmg, knowledge. 
 
 Curb, to bend or li^^ckle. 
 
 Curiosiiy, curioiisness, linical delicacy. 
 
 Curious, scrupulous. 
 
 Curled, ostentatiously dressed. 
 
 Currents, occurrences. 
 
 Cursed, under the inlluence of a male- 
 diction 
 
 Curst, pptulant, ill-tempered, crabbed, 
 harsli. 
 
 Curstness, ill-hutnour. 
 
 Curtail, a little cur. 
 
 Curtal, a docked horse, 
 
 Curtle-axe, a cutlass, broad-sword. 
 
 Customer, a strumpet. 
 
 Cut, a horse. 
 
 Cut and Inngtail, poor and rich. 
 
 Cuttle, a knife used by siitirpers. 
 
 Cyprus, a transparent stulf. 
 
 OafT, or doff, to put off. 
 
 Daily, to tride. 
 
 JJamn, to condemn. 
 
 Danger, ciintroul. 
 
 Dank. wet. rotten. 
 
 Danskers, natives of Denmark. 
 
 Darkling^ in the dark. 
 
 Darraing. to arrange. 
 
 Daub, to disguise. 
 
 Daubery falsehood, counterfeit. 
 
 Day bed, a couch. 
 
 Day-light, broad day. 
 
 Day-wiiman, dairymaid. 
 
 Dealt, fought by proxy. 
 
 Dear, immediate, consequential. 
 
 Dearn, direful, lonely, solitary. 
 
 Deah tokens, spots on those infected 
 with the plague. 
 
 Death's man, executioner. 
 
 Debitor, .lebtor. 
 
 Deboshed, debauched. 
 
 Decay, poverty, misfortunes. 
 
 l^e^k of cards, a pack. 
 
 Decked, sprinkled. 
 
 Decline, to run through (as in gram- 
 mar) from first to last 
 
 Declined, the fallen. 
 
 Deem, opinion, surmise. 
 
 Deer, animals in general. 
 
 Default (in the), at a need. 
 
 Defeat, to free, to disembarass. 
 
 Defeature, alteration of features 
 
 Defence, art of fencing. 
 
 Defend, to forbid. 
 
 Deftly, adroitly, dexterously. 
 
 Defy, to reject. 
 
 Degrees, stf ps. 
 t>elay, to let slip 
 
 Demerits, merits 
 
 J>emurely, solemnly. 
 
 Denay, denial. 
 
 Denayed, denied. 
 
 Denier, a coin. 
 
 Deniidc, lo strip, divest 
 
 Deny, to refu.-.e. 
 
 Dejiart, to part. 
 
 Departing, separation. 
 
 Depend, i» be (ii service. 
 
 Deprive, to disinherit. 
 
 Deracinate, to root up. 
 
 Derogate, degraded. 
 
 Descant, to harangue upon; also, a 
 
 term in music. 
 Deserved, deserving. 
 Design, to mark out. 
 Despatched, bereft. 
 Detected, suspected. 
 Dich, do it. 
 Dickon, Richard. 
 Die, gaming. 
 Diet, to compel to fast. 
 Ditiu-^ed, wild, irregular. 
 Digress, to deviate from what is right. 
 Digression, transgression. 
 DiuJos, the burthen of a song. 
 Dint, impression. 
 Disable, to undervalue. 
 Disappiiinted, unprepared. 
 Discandy, to dissolve. 
 Disclose, to hatch. 
 Discontentents, malcontents. 
 Discourse, reason. 
 Disease, uneasiness, discontent. 
 Diseases, sayings. 
 Disgrace, hardTship, injury. 
 Dishabited, disloiiged. 
 Dislike, di.splease. 
 Dislima, lo unpaint, obliterate. 
 Dismc, tenth, or tithe. 
 D,<snatured, wanting natnral afTection. 
 Dispark, to destroy a park or iiiclo- 
 
 sure. 
 Disperge, to sprinkle. 
 Disponge, to discharge as a sponge. 
 Dispose, disposal, command. 
 Dispose, to make terms. 
 Disposition, frame. 
 Disseat, displace, depose. 
 Dis.semiile, to glossover, disguise. 
 Dissembling, putting dissimilar things 
 
 together. 
 Distained, unstained. 
 Distaste, to corrupt. 
 Distemper, intoxication. 
 Distemperature, perturbation. 
 Distempered, out of humour. 
 Distraught, distracted. 
 Distractions, detachments, separate 
 
 bodies. 
 Divert, to turn aside. 
 Division, a term in music. 
 D.Xf, to put otf. 
 Dole, alms, distribution, lot. 
 Dolphin, the dauphin. 
 Don, to put on, to do on. 
 Done to death, killed. 
 Done, expended, consumed. 
 Done upon the gad, sudo'eniy. ' 
 
 Dotant, dotard. 
 Double, full of duplicity. 
 Double vouchers, a law term. 
 Doubt, to fear. 
 Dout, to do out, extinguish. 
 Dowle, a feather. 
 Down gyved, hanging down, like what 
 
 conlines the fetters round the 
 
 ancles. 
 Draught, the jakes. 
 Draw, to withdraw. 
 Drawn, embowelled. 
 Drawn fox, one which is trailed over 
 
 the ground, to deceive the hounds. 
 Drachmas, a Greek coin. 
 Dressings, appearances of virtue. 
 Drew, assembled. 
 Drive, to Hy with impetuosity. 
 Drollery, a puppet-shew. 
 Drugs, drudges. 
 Drumble, to act lazily. 
 Ducdame, (due ad me) bring him to 
 
 me, the burthen of a song. 
 Dudgeon, the handle of a dagger. 
 Jlne, to endue, to deck. 
 Dullard, a stupid person. 
 Dump, a mournful elegy. 
 Dup, to do up, to lift up. 
 Dull, gentle soothing. 
 Dumb, to make silent. 
 Duke, a leader. 
 Durance, some lasting kind of stuff. 
 
 E, 
 Eager, (from aigrf, Fr.) sonr, harsh. 
 Etinlings, lambs. 
 Ear, to plough. 
 Eai tisuag, whi.speriii£. 
 
 Easy, ntlght, inconsideraMO, 
 
 Eclie, (orke out. 
 
 Ecstasy, madness. 
 
 Eliects, alicctions ; also, actiou!, deeds 
 et^tc'ed. 
 
 Efleal, rcndiest. 
 
 Eijypt, a gipsy. 
 
 Kid. Old tin. e; also, aged r.ev»ona. 
 
 Uement, initiation. 
 
 Elf, done by elven. or fairie« 
 
 Elvi.sh marked, marked by elves 
 
 Einlhilling, di!;tingui.shed by the hall 
 the emblem ot royalty. 
 
 Etjihare, to expose. 
 
 Kiuliuiquements, impediments. 
 
 Embossed, inclosed, swollen, pufiV. 
 
 Embowelled, exhausted. 
 
 Embraced, indulged in. 
 
 Empericutick, empirical. 
 
 Empery, sovereign power. 
 
 Emulous, envious, jealous. 
 
 Emulation, envy. 
 
 Encave, to hide. 
 
 Endart, to dart forth. 
 
 Enfeotr, to invest with possessiotj 
 
 Engross, lo fatten 
 
 Engaged, delivered a.s an hnsfaga. 
 
 Engro.ssments, accumnlation. 
 
 Enkindle, tostimu.ate. 
 
 Enmesh, to inclose, as in meshes. 
 
 Enmew, (in falconry) to foice to lie in 
 cover. 
 
 Enridged, bordered. 
 
 Ensconce, to secure in a safe place, lo 
 toitify. 
 
 Ensi-ameil, greasy. 
 
 Knseer, to dry np. 
 
 Enshield. concealed. 
 
 Knstei-ped, immersed. 
 
 Entertainment, pay; also, being re- 
 ceived into service. 
 
 Entreatments, favours ; also, objects ot 
 entreaty. 
 
 En.vy, aver>ion, malice. 
 
 Enviously, angrily. 
 
 Ephesian, a caul term. 
 
 Erring, errant, wandering. 
 
 Escape, illegitimate child. 
 
 Escoted, paid. 
 
 Esil, or Eisel, a river. 
 
 Esperaiice, motto of the Percy familji 
 
 Espiais, spies. 
 
 Essential, ccistent, real. 
 
 Estimate, price. 
 
 Estimation, cotijectiire. 
 
 Estridges, ostriches. 
 
 Eterne, eternal. 
 
 E-veu, to make even, or evident. 
 
 Even christian, fel.ow christian. 
 
 Evils, jakes. 
 
 Examined, doubted. 
 
 Excellent dilfcrences, distinguished ex- 
 cellencies. 
 
 Excrement, the beard. 
 
 Execute, to use or employ. 
 
 Executors, executioners. 
 
 Exercise, exhortation. 
 
 Exhale, to breathe one's last. 
 
 Exhaust, to draw forth. 
 
 Exhibition, allowance. 
 
 Exigent, end, exigency. 
 
 Exorcism, the raising of spirita. 
 
 Expect, expectation. 
 
 Expedience, expedition. 
 
 Expedient, expeditious. 
 
 Expediently, expeditiously. 
 
 Expostulate, to discuss. 
 
 Exsufflicale, bubble-like. 
 
 Extend, to seize. 
 
 Extent, violence, seizure. 
 
 Extern, external. 
 
 Extremity, calamity. 
 
 Expiate, to end. 
 
 Ex posture, exposure. 
 
 Express, to reveal. 
 
 Expulsed, expelled. 
 
 Extracting, distracting. 
 
 Extiavagant, wandering. 
 
 Evas musket, ayouughawL 
 
 Eyases, nestlings. 
 
 Eyliads, eyes. 
 
 Eyne, eyes. 
 
 Eyry, a nest of hawks. 
 
 Eysel, vinegar. 
 
 Face, to carry a foolish appeanince. 
 
 Face royal, a privileged face. 
 
 Facinorous, wicked. 
 
 Fact, guilt. 
 
 Factious, active. 
 
 Faculty, exercise of poWer. 
 
 Failge, to suit. 
 
 Fadings, a ilance. 
 
 Failh, fidelity. 
 
 Faithfully, lenently. 
 
 Fain, fond. 
 
 Fair, for fairnesi. 
 
800 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Paitors, traittirs. 
 
 KaUiiig. (klsifving. 
 
 Falsely, ilUgally, dishonestly. 
 
 Familiar, a rtemou. 
 
 Fancies and guod uights, little poems 
 
 so called. 
 Fancy, loie. 
 Fancy free, clear of love. 
 Fang, to seize 
 Fans, anfieut. 
 Fiintaslital imaginative. 
 Fantaslicoes, nfffctiil persons. 
 Fap, beaten, drunk. 
 Farced, stulled. 
 Fiirdel or Fanhel, a burflien. 
 Fa.shions,tlii- t'arceus,a disease ofiiorses. 
 Fat, dull. 
 
 Favour, tnuntpnance. 
 Favours, fcatiires. 
 Fear, to iiiiiniidate, danger. 
 Feaj'ed, al'r.iid 
 
 Fearfai, timorous ; also, formidable. 
 Feat, de\ttr(iu3. 
 Feated, maile neat. 
 Feature, beauty. 
 Federacy, conft derate. 
 Fee grief, a peculiar sorrow. 
 Feeder, a depeiidaut. 
 Feeding, m-unteuance. 
 Feere, or pheerc, a companion. 
 Feet, footing. 
 Fell, skin. 
 
 Fell of liair, capilitium, any part co- 
 vered with Imir. 
 Fell feats, siivage actions. 
 Pence, the art of self defence. 
 Feodary, a eonlederate. 
 Festiuateiy, lla^!ily. 
 Fesliva! terms, elegant phrase. 
 Fet, fetched. 
 Few, in brii f. 
 Fico, a term of contempt. 
 Fielded, in tlie lieUl of buttle. 
 Fight3, clothes hung rcunJ a ship to 
 
 conceal tlie men from ihe enemy. 
 File, a list. 
 Filed, defiled 
 
 Filed, gone an equal pace nitb. 
 Fills, the shafis. 
 Filths, common sewers. 
 Finch egg, a gaudy fellow. 
 Fine, the coaclusiou, to make shewy, 
 
 artful. 
 Fine issues, great consequences. 
 Fineless, boiiudles.s, endless. 
 Finer, tiial. 
 
 Fira?o for Virago. 
 
 lire drake, wiil-u'-the wi-fp. or a fire- 
 work. 
 
 Fire-new, quite new. 
 
 Firk, to chrt>tise. 
 
 I'irst liouse, chiel'branch of the family. 
 
 Firstlings, fir.^t produce. 
 
 Fit, a diviiiion of a song. 
 
 Fitchew, a polecat 
 
 Fit o' the face, a grimace. 
 
 Fits 0' the ica^oii, disorders of the 
 season. 
 , Fives, a distemper in horses. 
 
 Frxure, pnsition. 
 
 Flap-dragon, iuHammable stulf swal- 
 lowed by t'vpers 
 
 Flapjack, a pancake. 
 
 Flaw, a sudden gust uf wind. 
 
 Flecked, spoiled, streaked. 
 
 Fleet, lor tlnat. 
 
 Fleshment, performance. 
 
 Flewed, de-p mouthed. 
 
 Flibbertigibliet. a fienfl. 
 
 Flickering, flittering. 
 
 Flight, a sort oi shooting. 
 
 Flote, wave. 
 
 Flourish, to ornament ; also, to sanc- 
 tion. 
 
 Flont, to wave in mockery. 
 
 Flush, mature. 
 
 Foemau, an enemy in war. 
 
 Foin, to thrust in fencing. 
 
 Foizon, plenty. 
 
 Folly, depravity. 
 
 Fond, foolish. 
 
 Fools' y.anies, baubles surmounted with 
 afirol's head. 
 
 Foot-cloth hoi'se covering. 
 
 For. because. 
 
 Force, to stulf. 
 
 Forced, false. 
 
 Forbiil, accursed. 
 
 Fordid, destroyed. 
 
 Fordo, to undo. 
 
 Fore done, overcome. 
 
 Forfended, O'^iidden. 
 
 ForepasI, hireaijf had. 
 
 Fore-slow . to ioiicr. 
 
 Forgetiie, iuv utrve. 
 
 Forked, hornc-i. 
 
 Formal, in I'-nn. 
 
 I'ormer. f.ir- ti^otft. 
 
 Forspent, extausted. 
 
 Forspoke, contradicted. 
 
 Forslow, delay. 
 
 Forwcaiied, worn out. 
 
 Fox, a sword. 
 
 Foxship, mean, cuuuing. 
 
 Frampdld, peevish. 
 
 Frank, a .sty. 
 
 Fran^^fin, a small freeholder. 
 
 Frayed, frightened. 
 
 Free, artless. 
 
 Fret, the stop of a musical instrument. 
 
 Friend, a luver. 
 
 Friend, for friendship, to befriend. 
 
 Frippery, an old clothes shop. 
 
 Frize, a Welch cloth. 
 
 From, in opposition to. 
 
 Fronted, opposed. 
 
 Frontier, lorrhead. 
 
 Frontlet, a forehead cloth. 
 
 Frush, to break or bruise. 
 
 Fulhara, false dice. 
 
 Fulsome, obscene. 
 
 Funiisiiinss, colours, pretences. 
 
 Fustilariau^ fusty fellovv. 
 
 Fulfilling, tilling to the brim. 
 
 Full, complete. 
 
 Fumiter, fumitory. 
 
 Furnished, dressed. 
 
 G. 
 
 I Gabardine, a loose cloak. 
 
 Gad, a sharp-pointed instrument. 
 
 Gain giving, misgiving. 
 
 Gamester, a wanton. 
 I Gait, passage. 
 I Gallinid, a dance. 
 
 Galliasses, ships. ' 
 
 Gallimaufry, a medley. 
 
 Gallow, to scare. 
 
 Galiow-glasses, Irish foot-soldiers. 
 
 Garboils, comrnolious. 
 
 Gaping, shouting. 
 
 Garish, gaudy. 
 
 Garnered, treasured up. 
 
 Gasted, frighted. 
 
 Gaudy, a festival. 
 
 Gaunt, meagre. 
 
 Gawd, a bauble. 
 
 Gaze, attention. 
 
 Gear, things or matters. 
 
 Geek, a fool. 
 
 General, generality. 
 
 Generosity, high birth. 
 : Genernus, nobly born. 
 I Gennets, Spanish horses. 
 I Gentle, iiobie, higli born. 
 ' Gentry, complaisance. 
 i German, akin 
 
 ! Germins, seeds begun to sprout. 
 1 Gest, a stage or journey. 
 
 Gib, a cat. 
 
 Giglot, a wanton. 
 ' Gilder, a coin, value 2i. 
 I Gilt, gold money. 
 
 Giminal, a ring or engine. 
 
 Ging, a gang. 
 
 Gild, a sarcasm. 
 
 Glaire, a sword. 
 
 Gleek, to joke. 
 
 Glib, to geld. 
 
 Glooming, gloomy. 
 
 Gloze, to expound. 
 
 Glut, to swallow. 
 I Gnarled, knotlv. 
 I God 'ield you, God yield you. 
 : Goiigariah, Hungarian. 
 ' Good deed, indeed. 
 
 Good-den, good evening. 
 
 Good jer, the venereal disease. 
 
 Gorbellied, corpulent. 
 
 Gospelleil, puritanic. 
 
 Goss, furze. 
 
 Gossamer, atoms that float in the sun 
 lieains. 
 
 Gourds, dice. 
 
 Gouts, drops. 
 
 Go your gail, go away. 
 
 Grained, furrowed, like the grain of 
 wo.-xl ; also, died ingrain. 
 
 Graniercy, great thaidis 
 
 Oiaiige, "a lone fann-house. 
 
 Gratillity. gratuity. 
 
 Grats, pleases. 
 
 Gratulale, toberejoicedin. 
 ! Grave, to entomb. 
 i Grave man a man in his grave. 
 i Graves or Greaves, leg armour. 
 I Greasily, grossly. 
 t Gieefc, a bawd. 
 I Greenly, unskilfully 
 I Green sleeves, an old song. 
 ! Grise or Grrze, a step. 
 ! Groisly, palpably. 
 
 Groundlings, those who sat or stood on 
 the gnnind in Ihe old theatr«;s; Ihi- 
 cninrnnn piople. 
 
 Gnara. to friniic 
 
 Guarded, omaroeti 
 Guerdon, a reward. 
 Gules, (in heraldry) rsd. 
 Gulf, the swallow, tl»e hawk. 
 Guiled, treacherous. 
 Guinea-hen, a prostit«i;>> 
 Gun stones, cannon biiUS. 
 Gurnet, a tish. 
 Gust, to taste. 
 Gyve, to shackle. 
 Gyves, shackles. 
 
 H. 
 Hack, to become cheap. 
 Haggard, wild; also, vHd throat 
 Hair, complexion, or character. 
 Hall ! make mom. 
 Happily, accidentally. 
 Happy, accomplishes. 
 Hardiiiient, bravery. , 
 
 Harlocks, wild mustard- 
 Harlot, a male cheat. 
 Harness, armour 
 Hanows, subdues. 
 Harry, to harrass. 
 Having, possessions. 
 Haviour, benav our. 
 Haught, hanglity. 
 Haughty, elevated. 
 Halcyon, a bird. 
 
 Hallidon, doom at judgment day. 
 Handsaw, hernsiiaw, (a hawk.; 
 Hangers, that wliich suspends the 
 sword. 
 
 Harlotry, vulgar, filthy. 
 
 Hatch, to engrave. 
 
 Haunt, company. 
 
 Hay, a fencing term. 
 
 Heat, heated, 
 
 Hebvnon, henbane. 
 
 Heft;d, heaved, agitated. 
 
 Hell, a duugeini in a prison. 
 
 Helmed, steered through. 
 
 Hence, hencelbi ward. 
 
 Henchman, a page of honour, 
 
 UenI, to seize. 
 
 Herb of grace, rue. 
 
 Hermits, beadsmen. 
 
 Hest, command. 
 
 Hight, called. 
 
 Hilding, a poltroon. 
 
 Hirtn, a hailot. 
 
 His, ofien used foists. 
 
 Hoar, hoary, mouldy. 
 
 Hob nob, as it may happen 
 
 Hoist, hoisted. 
 
 Hold, to esteem. 
 
 Hold taking, bear handling. 
 
 Holla I a term of the manege. 
 
 Holy, faithful. 
 
 Hoodmaii blind, blindinan's huff. 
 
 Horologe, clcck. 
 
 Hot house, a bagnio. 
 
 Hox, to ham string. 
 
 Huggermugger, secretly.^ 
 
 Hull, to floai witl.ori' guidance. 
 
 Humming, o'erwheliuiug. 
 
 Humorous, humid. 
 
 Hungry, unprolilic. 
 
 Hunt counter, worthless dog. 
 
 Hunts up. a hunting tune. 
 
 Hurly, noise. 
 
 Hurtle, to dash assinst. 
 
 Hurtling, boisterous merrimeat. 
 
 Husbandry, Ihriltiuess. 
 
 Huswife, ajilt. 
 
 Hyen, hyteua. 
 
 I. 
 
 Icebrook, temper. 
 
 Iille, barren 
 
 Ifecks, in faith. 
 
 [guoinv, ignominy. 
 
 Ill inhaliitid. ill lodged. 
 
 Illustrious, withcut lustre. 
 
 Image.s, children, representatlvai, 
 
 Imbare, to expose. 
 
 Immaniiy, barbarity. 
 
 Immediacy, close connexion. 
 
 Imp, progeny. 
 
 Impair, unsuitable, unequal. 
 
 linpaitia'l. partial. 
 
 Impawned, w-:igered« 
 
 Imperious, imperial, 
 
 Impetticos, to inrpetticoat, W ia 
 
 pocket. 
 Importance, importunity. 
 Important, importunate. 
 Impose, injunction. 
 iKiposiliuns, ciiiimands. 
 Impossible, iiicrrdible. 
 Imp out to sriiiply the d63conc> . 
 Impress, a device nr motto. 
 Iricapaldc uninelligeiil. 
 Incaruaiiiue, to ilyc rejJ. 
 Incensed, incited. 
 Iiu.liii, tir einhrace 
 liicliidr-. Ill co.'ic'iide. 
 Inclusive. • iic.lo.sed. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 801 
 
 Incompt, sntiiect to account. 
 
 Inccuiy oiKijiiy. fielicate, pretty. 
 
 Incorrect, 11 rcsrulatpd. 
 
 Ind'Hl, li> simi an indenlure. 
 
 Inilex. sdinciliiiig preparatory. 
 
 IndittVrcnl. iinpartial. 
 
 Indigesl, sliHpeless. 
 
 Indi e. to ciiiivict. 
 
 Indurtiiin, preface, prelude. 
 
 Induraiir e, delay. 
 
 Inlnrinsl, drran^ed. 
 
 Infinite, exient or power. 
 
 Ingaged, unengaged. 
 
 Ingraft, rooted 
 
 Inhabitable, not habitable. 
 
 Inherit, lo posses.'*. 
 
 Inhibit, to forbid, decline. 
 
 In hi.s eye, in bis presence. 
 
 Inhooped, iiiclosed. 
 
 Ink-liorn mate, a book-mate. 
 
 Inkle. w<irsiid l.ape. 
 
 Initiate, young. 
 
 Inland, civilized. 
 
 Innocent, a fool. 
 
 In place, i)re.sent. 
 
 Insane, ihat u hich makes insane. 
 
 Insanie, in-sauity. 
 
 Insonce, to fortify. 
 Insculped, Engraven. 
 
 Inseparate, inseparable. 
 Instances, motives. 
 Insuit, solicitation. 
 Integrity, consistency. 
 Intend, to pretend. 
 Intending, regarding. 
 Intendment, intention. 
 Intention, t ager desire. 
 Inteutively, aitenti\ely. 
 luteressed. inteiestt-d. 
 Intergalories, interrogatories. 
 In that, because. 
 
 Intrfiichant, which cannot be cut. 
 Intrinse, intricate. 
 Inwardness, intimacy, 
 iron, clad in aiinour. 
 Irregulous, licentious. 
 Issues, consequences. 
 Iteration, repetition. 
 Itinatiou, recitation. 
 J. 
 Jack-a-Lent, a puppet thrown at in 
 
 Lent. 
 Jack-guardanf, a jack in oflice. 
 Jack sauce, a saucy fellow. 
 Jaded, worthless. 
 Jar, the noise made by the pendulum of 
 
 a clock. 
 Jaunce launt. 
 Jauncing, jaunting. 
 Jay, a wanton. 
 Jesses, straps of leather, fastened round 
 
 hawk's legs. 
 Jest, to play a part in a mask. 
 Jet, to strut. 
 
 Jig, a ludicrous dialogue in verse. 
 Journal, daily. 
 Jovial, belunging to Jove. 
 Jump, to suit, just. 
 Justicer, a.ludge. 
 Jut, to encroach. 
 Jutty, to project. 
 Juvenal, a youth. 
 
 Kam. awry. 
 
 Keech, a lump of tallow. 
 
 Keel to coo) 
 
 Keisar, Cajsar. 
 
 Kernes, light armed soldiers. 
 
 Key cold, cold as iron. 
 
 Kicksy-wick.sy, term of endearment for 
 
 a wife. 
 Kindly, natural. 
 Kinged, ruled. 
 Kirile, a wcnnan's garment. 
 Knap, to break short. 
 Knave, servant. 
 Knots, figures planted in box. 
 Know, to acknowledge. 
 Know of, to consider. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lnbras, lips. 
 
 Laced mutton , a prostitute. 
 
 Lackeying, moving like a lackey. 
 
 Lag . 'he rabble. 
 
 Lakiu, ladykiu, or little lady. 
 
 Lances lance men. 
 
 Lanil.5. laii'liiig places. 
 
 Land-rakers, wanderers on foot. 
 
 Large, licciiiioiis. 
 
 Lass lorn, forsaken by his mistress. 
 
 Latch, lo lav bold of. 
 
 Latcheil or fetched, licked over. 
 
 Lated. bemgiiied 
 
 Latti-n. thin m a lath. 
 
 Launch, lance. 
 
 Laiind. lawn. 
 
 l-oundcring. wetting. 
 
 Lavoltas, a kind of dances. 
 
 Lay, a wager. 
 
 L( auuer, a camp. 
 
 Leasing falsehood. 
 
 Leather-coats, apples. 
 
 Leavened, matured. 
 
 Leech, a physician. 
 
 Leer, feature, complexion. 
 
 Lcet, petty court of Justice. 
 
 Leg, obeisance. 
 
 Legerity, nimbleness. 
 
 Leges, alleges. 
 
 Leiger, lesideut. 
 
 Lenian.a lover or mistress. 
 
 Lenn, a pander. 
 
 Lenten, spare. 
 
 Let, to hinder. 
 
 Lithe, death. 
 
 L'Kiivoy, end of a poem. 
 
 Lewd, idle. 
 
 Libbanl, or Lubbard, a leopard. 
 
 Libel al, licentious iu speech. 
 
 L beriy, libeninism. 
 
 License, licentiousness. 
 
 Liefest, darest. 
 
 Li( ger, an ambassador. 
 
 Lificr, a ttuef. 
 
 Light o'love, a dance tunc. 
 
 Lightly, ceinnionly. 
 
 Like, to compare. 
 
 Liking, condition of body 
 
 Likelihood, similitude. 
 
 Likeness, .vpeciousness. 
 
 Limbeck, a vessel used in distilling. 
 
 Limbo, a iilace supposed near hell. 
 
 Lime, bird lime; to cement. 
 
 Limited, appointed. 
 
 Limits, estimates. 
 
 Lined, delineated. 
 
 Linstock, the stall' to which the match 
 
 is fi.Med wheu ordnance is tired. 
 List, liiuil. 
 Lillier, tltxible. 
 Little, miniature. 
 Livelihood, appearance of life. 
 Livery, a law phrase. 
 Living, estate, property. 
 Living, speaking, manifest 
 Loach, ;• small prolific fish. 
 Lob, a dullard, a looby. 
 Lockram, a kind of linen. 
 Lode star, the polar star. 
 Loire, to laugh. 
 Loggats, a game. 
 Long purp.cs, a (lower. 
 Longing, belonging. 
 i Longly, longingly. . 
 
 I Looted, brought close to the wind. 
 I Loon, a base fellow. 
 I Looped, full of apertures. 
 I Lop, the branches. 
 I Lordling, a little lord. 
 I Lot, a prr/,e. 
 I Lottery, allolmeiit. 
 I Love in idleness, a flower. 
 Lover, sometimes for mistress. 
 Lowt,a clown. 
 
 Lowted, treated with contempt. 
 Lozel, a worthless fellow 
 Lubbar, a leopard. 
 Lullaby, cradle. 
 Lunes, lunacy. 
 Lurch, to will, to purloin. 
 Lure, a decoy for a hawk. 
 Lush, rank, luscious 
 Lust, inclination, will. 
 Luslic, lusty, cheerful. 
 Lusty, saucy. 
 Luxurious, lascivious. 
 Luxury, lust. 
 Lym, or Lyme, a bloodhound. 
 
 M. 
 
 Mace, a sceptre. 
 Mad, wild, inconstant. 
 Magot pie. a magpie. 
 Magnilico, r. Venetian potentate. 
 Magnitiient, hoastlul. 
 Mailed, wrapt in armour. 
 Make, to bar, to shut. 
 Makeless. mateless, widowed, 
 Male, a bag. 
 Malkiii, a trull. 
 MaHeclio, m .schief. 
 Maltwonns, tipplers, 
 Maramei iiig, stammering. 
 Mainmels, puppets. 
 Mammock lo tear. 
 Man, to tame a hawk ; the devil. 
 Mandragora, a soporilic |>iant. 
 Mandiake, a root. 
 Mankiml.a wizard. 
 Manacle, a handcuff. 
 Manner, in ilie fact. 
 Man queller, a man killer. 
 Marches, conliiies. 
 Marchpane, a .sweetmeat. 
 Margeni, n.Higiu. 
 
 Martial hand, a careless scrawl. 
 
 Martlemas, tlie latter spring. 
 
 Mated, confounded. 
 
 Material, full of matter 
 
 Maugre.in suite of, notwithstanding 
 
 Haund, a basket. 
 
 Meacorl. , a dastard. 
 
 Mealed mingled. 
 
 Mean, the muMIe, the tenor in music. 
 
 M'-ans, in'erest. 
 
 Measure, the reach; a solemn dance: 
 means. 
 
 Meazels, lepers. 
 
 Medal, portrait. 
 
 Meddle, to mingle. 
 
 Medicine, a sbe-physician. 
 
 Meet, a match 
 
 Meiney, domestics. 
 
 Memories, memorials. 
 
 Memory, memorial. 
 
 Mends, the means. 
 
 Mephistopliilus. a familiar spirit. 
 
 Mercataiile. a merchant. 
 
 Merchant, a low fellow. 
 
 Mere, entire, absolute. 
 
 Mered question, the sole question. 
 
 Merely, entirely. 
 
 Merit, a reward. 
 
 Mermaid, a syren. 
 
 Metaphysical, supernatural. 
 
 Mete yard, measuring yard. 
 
 Mewed, conlined. 
 
 Micher, a truant. 
 
 Miching Mai. echo, asccretminttief 
 
 Mince, to walk atfectedly. 
 
 Minding, reminding. 
 
 Minnow, a very small tish. 
 
 Minstrelsy, olhce of minstrel. 
 
 MinuteJack.Jack-'o-laniern. 
 
 Miscreate. illegitimate, spurieVAL 
 
 Misdoubt, to suspect. 
 
 Miser, a miserable being. 
 
 Misery, avarice. 
 
 Misprised, mistaken. 
 
 Misprising, despising. 
 
 Missives, messengers. 
 
 M is temjiered, angry. 
 
 Mistliil, ready to weep, 
 
 Misthink, toiliinkill. 
 
 Mistress, the jack in bowliug. 
 
 Mo, more. 
 
 Mobled, veiled, muffled. 
 
 Model, mould. 
 
 Modern, newfangled. 
 
 iModesty, moderation. 
 
 Module, model. 
 
 Moe, to make mouths. 
 
 Moiety, a portion. 
 
 Moist star, the moop.. 
 
 Jlollilication, softening. 
 
 Mume, a blockhead. 
 
 Moinentany, moincnlary. 
 
 Monster, lo make monstrous. 
 
 Month's mind, a popish annivers6i7. 
 Mood, anger, manner. 
 
 Moody, melancholy. 
 
 Moonish, variable. 
 
 Mops and Moes, ludicrous anticks. 
 
 Moral, secret meaning. 
 
 Morisco Moorish. 
 
 Morris pike Moorish pike. 
 
 Mort of ihedcer, a tune on the de*t)i » 
 
 the deer. 
 Mortal, murderous, fatal. 
 Morial, abounding. 
 Mortal staring, kilting by a look 
 Mortified, ascetic. 
 Most greatest. 
 Mot a moito. 
 
 Mother, the hysteric passion. 
 Moiion, diviuatoiy agitation. 
 Motion, desires. 
 Motion, a puppet. 
 Motions, inuigiiation. 
 Motive, a mover. 
 Mouldwarp. the mole 
 Mouse, to tear lo pieces. 
 Mouse, a term of endearment. 
 Mouse hunt, a weasel. 
 Moy, a piece of money; also a m-iisoee 
 
 of corn. 
 iMiicli. strange, wonderful. 
 Muck water, drain of a dunghill. 
 Muiner , a wrapper for the Ihwer part 
 
 of the face 
 Miileters, muleteers. 
 Mulled, soli'ened. 
 Multiplied multitudinous. 
 Multiplying, multiplied. 
 Multitudinous, full of raultitudss. 
 Mure, a wail. 
 Murky, dark. 
 Must, a scramble. 
 
 N. 
 Napkin, handkerchieC 
 Napless, threadbare. 
 Native, naturally. 
 
802 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Nnttire, natiiral pareut. 
 
 Naui'litv, uTiit. 
 
 jNbv «rinl.a by word. 
 
 h>l), tlie iiiOMin. 
 
 Nee'ds, nr.-'il'js. 
 
 7>i'f-(;!c<'.U(m, iifjlect. 
 
 Nfif, the list. 
 
 Nephew, any lineal descenclaat. 
 
 Nefiier-"'ti>''K-.'<, stiir.kiugs. 
 
 Newuess. iimovatiou 
 
 Newt, t!ie eft. 
 
 Neut, ne;ire»t,. 
 
 Nice, trifliug. 
 
 Nick, ti) set the mark of folly eu; 
 
 reckoni:i_^. 
 Nig',", ml", t'rnlic of the niglit. 
 NiKiitril, iiiaile darli as uight. 
 Nill, shall nut. 
 Nine men's morris, a game. 
 Noble, a com. 
 Nohless, nobleness. 
 Noble-touch, unalloyed metal. 
 Notldy, foul, agar.ie at tarda. 
 Noise, muaic. 
 None*, on purpose. 
 Noucoiii, Uiiuphis. 
 Nooksbolter, that which shoots into 
 
 capes. 
 Northern man, a clown. 
 Note, notices. 
 
 Nott jjaieci, rouml-headed. 
 Nourish, to nurse. 
 Noiisie, fo fondle as a nurse. 
 Novum, a s.une at dice. 
 Nowl, a luad. 
 Nut-hook, a thief. 
 
 O. 
 
 OJ i even, the interval between, twelve 
 at nlsht and one in the mo.uing. 
 
 Oil's iiitikins, God me pity. 
 
 Oellans, glances of the eye. 
 
 O's, cii'cles, pockmarks. 
 
 Obligations, lionds. 
 
 Ohseq\iiou3, funereal. 
 
 Ob.se rvation. celebration. 
 
 Obstacle, obstinate. 
 
 Occurrenis, incidents. 
 
 Occupation, mechanics. 
 
 O'er-r-iughl, over -reached. 
 
 O'ercrow, cverconie. 
 
 O'erlnoked, fascinated. 
 
 Of, through. 
 
 Olfering, tne assailant. 
 
 Office, service. 
 
 Olllces, culinary apartments 
 
 Of all lo\ es, by all means. 
 
 Old, frequent. 
 
 Old age, agesi)ast. 
 
 Once, sometime. 
 
 Oneyers, bankers. 
 
 Opal, a preciou" stone. 
 
 Operant, active 
 
 Opinion, otxtinacy, conceit 
 
 Oppo.sile, adverse. 
 
 Opposition, combat. 
 
 Or e'er, belore. 
 
 Orbs, fairj' circles. 
 
 Orchard, a g:irdeu. 
 
 Ordinance, rank. 
 
 Order, nteosures. 
 
 Onotous, haughty. 
 
 08|Weiy,i.n eagle. 
 
 Oatent, ostentation, appearance. 
 
 Osteiilation, ai)pearnuce. 
 
 Overblow, to dnve away. 
 
 Overacntched. whippeil at a cart's tail. 
 
 Overture, o[)ening, discovery 
 
 Ounce, a tiger-cat. 
 
 Ouph, fairy. 
 
 Ou.iiel COCK, the cock blackbird. 
 
 Out, full, complete. 
 
 Outvied, defeated, a term at the game 
 of gleek. 
 
 Outwiird, uot in the secret. 
 
 Owe, to po.s.sess, to own. 
 
 OUip, the great cowslip. 
 P. 
 
 Pack, tobirgain with. 
 
 Pack, an accomplice. 
 
 Packing, plotting, fraud. 
 
 P^dilock, a toad. 
 
 Pagan, a dissolute person. 
 
 Pagf-ant. a dumb shew. 
 
 Paid, punished. 
 
 Palabras, words. 
 
 Paie, dominions. 
 
 Pale, to encircle with a crown. 
 
 Pall, to wrap to invest. 
 
 Palled, vapid. 
 
 Palmwrs, pilgrims. 
 
 Palmy, victorious. 
 
 Paly, pale. 
 
 Palter, to iuggle, to cheat. 
 
 Panz. to afflict. 
 
 Paper, to commit to writing. 
 
 Parcel, part, to reckon up. 
 
 ■Parcel, bawd, half bawd. 
 
 Parce1-|?ilt partially gilt. 
 
 Parish tup, a large top, formerly kent 
 ill every village, lo be whii'pcd 1<t 
 exercise. 
 
 Parle, parley. 
 
 Parlous, perilous, shiewil. 
 
 Pan, to depart. 
 
 Parted, endowed, shared. 
 
 Particular, private. 
 
 Partizan, a pike. 
 
 Parts, party. 
 
 Pash, to strike; ahead. 
 
 Pashed, crush'Sd. 
 
 I'a^s, lo decide, assure, convey. 
 
 Pass on, to decide. 
 
 Pas.'<ed, eminent. 
 
 Passing, surpassing. 
 
 Pa.<sion, suliering. 
 
 Passionate, grieving. 
 
 Passioning, being in a passion. 
 
 Pasty Measure, a dance. 
 
 Paritnr, an apparitor, or officer of the 
 bi.shop's court. 
 
 Pastry, the paotry room. 
 
 Patch, a tool. 
 
 Patchi d, in a fool's coat. 
 
 Path, lo walk. 
 
 Pathetical, prcmisebriaker. 
 
 Patient, to soothe. 
 
 Patine, a dish uskI with the chalice in 
 administering the Kucharist. 
 
 Paucas, few. 
 
 Pavin, a dance. 
 
 Pay, to beat. 
 
 Peat, pet, darling. 
 
 Pedascule, a pcd.int. 
 
 Peer-out, to peep out. 
 
 Peevish, foolish. 
 
 Peize, to weigh, keep in s'jspense. 
 
 Penihesilia, Amazon. 
 
 Pelting, paltry. 
 
 Pennons, small Hags. 
 
 Perdu, one of the lorloruhope. 
 
 Perdurable, lasting. 
 
 Perdy. (Par DieiO a French oalh. 
 
 Perfect, certain; well iulormed. 
 
 Perfections, liver, brain, and heart. " 
 
 Periapts, chaniis worn about the neck. 
 
 Perjure, a pei'jurer. 
 
 Person, parson. 
 
 Perspeclives, spy-glasses 
 
 Perveit, to avert. 
 
 F stilence, poison. 
 
 P V follow, a companion 
 
 Pheere, companion. 
 
 Phi-,ni'my, physiognomy. 
 
 Pheeze, to tease, to currycomb 
 
 PhiM-horse, shaft-horse. 
 
 Pick, to pitch. 
 
 Picka-xes, lingers. 
 
 Picked, fop|iish. 
 
 Pickers, the hands. 
 
 Picking, insigiiilicant. 
 
 Pickt-hatch, a plate noted for Brothels. 
 
 Pick-thank, a parasite. 
 
 Piece, a contemptuous term for a w o- 
 nian. 
 
 Pied ninny, a fool. 
 
 Pieled, shaven. 
 
 Pight, pilched, fixed. 
 
 Pilcher, the scabbard. 
 
 Pileil. deprived of hair. 
 
 Pilled, pillaged. 
 
 Pin, a (ern>m archery. 
 
 Pin iind web, disorder of the eye. 
 
 Pinfold, a pound. 
 
 Pi.x., the box that contains the host 
 
 Place, a mansion. 
 
 Placket, a pellicoat. 
 
 Plague, punish. 
 
 I'lainly, openly. 
 
 Plaited, complicated. 
 
 Plautage. plantain. 
 
 Planched. made of planks 
 
 Plant, the foot. 
 
 Plates, silver money. 
 
 Platfonn.s, schemes. 
 
 Plausive, gracious, applauded. 
 
 Pluerisy, plethory. 
 
 Ple"cbcd, folded. 
 
 Plot, portion. 
 
 Point, negative. 
 
 Point, hooks used to fasten up bree- 
 ches 
 
 Point-de-vice, exactly 
 
 Points, tags (o laces 
 
 Poize, weight. 
 
 Polack, a Polander 
 
 Polled, bared. 
 
 Pomander, a perfume ball. 
 
 Pomewnfer. an apple. 
 
 Poor j I'hn, salted tisli. 
 
 Popinjay, a jiarrot. 
 
 Popularity, lutercourse with the vul- 
 gar. 
 
 Porpentine, porcupine. 
 
 Port, deportment. 
 
 Port, a gate. 
 
 Portable, bearable. 
 I Poriance, behaviour. 
 I Possess, to inform. 
 ! Polch, to push. 
 
 Potenls, potentates. 
 
 Poulter, poulterer. 
 
 Pouncet box, a perfume-b iS. 
 
 Power, an army. 
 
 Practise, stratagems. 
 
 Prank, to adorn. 
 
 I'erccpt, a ju.stice's warrant 
 
 Percisian. a puritan. 
 
 Pieeches, Hogged. 
 
 Prt-lcr, to otier. 
 
 Pregnant, ready. 
 
 Pr'iinminale, fore-named. 
 
 Frest. ready. 
 
 Pretend, to iniend. 
 
 I'revent, to anticipate v 
 
 Pricket, a buck of the second •"■»» 
 
 Prig, '.o pilfers 
 
 Prime, sprightliness of yct;th. 
 I Primer, of more consequence, 
 i Piimero, a game at cards. 
 I Priucox, a coxcomb. 
 j Probul, probable. 
 I Prodigious, portentous. 
 I Prolate, much good may it do yow 
 ; Prolane, gros.sly talkative.. 
 
 Progress, a royal journej of statB. 
 { Progniislicalion, almanack. 
 I Project, to shape. 
 I Prolixious, c. y, delaying. 
 I Proof, pubciriy. 
 j Prorapture, suggestion. 
 
 Prone bumble, aiso prompt. 
 I Pri pagate, to advance, to improf^. 
 1 Proper, handsome. 
 ] Proper- false, deccilful. 
 
 Propertied, possessed. 
 
 ■ Properiies, incidental nece-ssaries to 
 
 theatre. 
 Property, due performance. 
 I'ropose, to imagine, to cuiiverse. 
 I'ruposing, converjing. 
 Pnn and, provender. 
 Provost, siieriff or gaoler. 
 Prime, to plume. 
 Pugging, tli.evi.sh. 
 l*uke , a sort of russet colour. 
 Purchase, stolen goods. 
 
 ■ iurchased, unjustly acquired. 
 
 ■ purl, to curl. 
 Purlieu, border. 
 Pursuivants, heralds. 
 
 ; llis-sel, a low \s encii. 
 Pill t\i know, forced to acknowledge 
 Putter-oul, one who lends money OB 
 
 interest. 
 Pufting-cn, incitement. 
 I'uttock, a hawk. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quail, to sink, to faint, to be van- 
 quished. 
 
 Quaint, fantastical, also graceful. 
 
 Quaintly, skilfully. 
 
 Quaint mazes, a game 
 
 Quaked, terrified. 
 
 (Quality, confederates; condition. 
 
 tjuarrel, a quarrtller. 
 
 Quarry, the game af er it is killed. 
 
 Quart d'icu, the fourth of a Prencli 
 cruwn. 
 
 Quat, a scab. 
 
 Queasy, squeamish. 
 
 (Juell, to murder. 
 
 (Quench, to grow coo). 
 
 (Juern, a hand-mill. 
 
 Quesi, pursuit. 
 
 (Juestion. conversation. 
 
 Questrist, one who seeks another. 
 
 Quests, reports. 
 
 Quiddits, subtleties. 
 
 Quietus, discharge. 
 
 Quillets, law chicane. 
 
 Quxnlairi, a post set up for rariiiW 
 exercises. 
 
 Quips, scotl's. 
 
 Quire, to play in concert 
 
 Quiver, uimbie, active. 
 
 Quote, to observe. 
 
 R. 
 
 R, dog's letter. 
 
 Rabato, a neck ornament. 
 
 Race.originaldispositiou.alsofiHVOIir. 
 
 Rark, wreck. 
 
 Rack, to exaggerate. 
 
 Kack", to harass by exactions. 
 
 Rack, the fleeting away of the cloudi 
 
 Racking, in rapid motion. 
 
 Rag, an opprobrious epithet. 
 
 Ragged, ru.ged. 
 
 Kake, to cover 
 
 Ram, rain. 
 
 Rampallion, a strumpet. 
 
 Rank, rate o\ pace. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 803 
 
 Kr]K. rapidly Krnwii. 
 Ka'>t. ciimp urcJ- 
 liHpliire. a tit. 
 Kail ly, ciirinnsly. 
 Rascal, lean ilei-v 
 
 Sash, remonstrance, premahire dis- 
 covery. 
 Ran^ht, reached. 
 
 Ravin, to devour eagerly. 
 
 Kavined. glutted with prey. 
 Kmvly. siiddenlv. 
 
 Kaved, betrayed. 
 
 Kazed slashed. 
 
 Raze, a bale. 
 
 Reiir mouse, a hat. 
 
 Reason, discourse. 
 
 Rebeck, a musical instrutnent. 
 
 Uecheat. a horn, a tune to CKlUIie 
 dogs back. 
 
 Receipt, receptacle. 
 
 Receiving, ready apprehension. 
 
 Receate, a hunting tenn. 
 
 R( ck, to care for. 
 
 Reckless, careless. 
 
 Record, to sing 
 
 Recorders, a kind of flute. 
 
 Recure, to recover. 
 
 Red lailice phrases, alehouse talk. 
 
 Red plague, the St. Antony's fire. 
 
 Reecuy, discoloured with smoke. 
 
 iteels, wheels 
 
 Relel, loccnfule. 
 
 Refer, to reserve to. 
 
 Rcg.nd, look. 
 
 Rrgimeut. gnvernment. 
 
 Ket:reet, excliange of salutation. 
 
 ReKuerdon, recomjjense. 
 
 Rhi-uinatic, capriciou.s. 
 
 Rehiine. to reiiglit. 
 
 Remorse, pity. 
 
 Remotion, removal. 
 
 Removes, journies. 
 
 Render, to tiescrihe. 
 
 Ken^ ge, to renounce. 
 
 Reports, reporters. 
 
 Reproof, confutation. 
 
 Repugn, to resist. 
 
 Reputing, boasting. 
 
 Reserve, to pre.seive. 
 
 Resolve, lo i>e assured. 
 
 Resolve, to dissoUe. 
 
 Respective, respectful. 
 
 Respectively, respectfully. 
 
 Resiy, monidy. 
 
 Retailed, hamled down. 
 
 Retort, to refer back. 
 
 Reverb, to reverberate. 
 
 Revolt of mien, change of complexion. 
 
 itevolts, rebels. 
 
 Kib to enclose. 
 
 Riba d, a lewd fellow. 
 
 Rid, to destroy. 
 
 Rift, spilt. 
 
 Ri?gisli, wanton. 
 
 Rigol, a ci cle. 
 
 Itiin, money. 
 
 Ringed, encircled. 
 
 Rivage, ilie bank or .shore. 
 
 Uivality, equal raf.k. 
 
 Rivals, parfners. 
 
 Ri\e, to burst, to fire. 
 
 Rdinage, rummage, bustle. 
 
 Ronyon. a drab. 
 
 Rood, the cross. 
 
 Rook, to squat. 
 
 Ropery roguery. 
 
 Rope tricks, abiisiveness. 
 
 Round a diadem. 
 
 Round, rooth. 
 
 Rounded, whispered. 
 
 Roundel, a country dance. 
 
 Rounding, wh spering. 
 
 Roundure, a circle. 
 
 Rouse, carousal. 
 
 Roynish, mangy. 
 
 Royal, a coin. 
 
 Ruddock, red-breast. 
 
 Roll', the folding of the tops of boots. 
 
 Ruffle, to be no .sy. 
 
 Ruffling, rus ling. 
 
 Rump-fed, fed with oSals. 
 
 Ruth, pity. 
 
 Sacarson, the name of a beal. 
 
 Sacred, accursed. 
 
 Sacrificial, worshipping. 
 
 Sucrlug hell, the bell announcing the 
 
 approach of the host. 
 Sad osteni, grave appearance. 
 Sneg. or SunKi;, to siiilL down, 
 Siillet. a helmet. 
 Niil. tears. 
 SftMiers, «atyrs. 
 S>iraingo, .St. Domingo. 
 S«ndied. sandy colour 
 Sads. without. 
 Saury, lascivious. 
 Savage, sylvan. 
 
 Savageness, wildness. 
 
 Saw, tenor of a discourse. 
 
 Say, silk. 
 
 Say, a .sample. 
 
 Scatfoldage, the gallery of a theatre. 
 
 Scald, beggarly. 
 
 Scale, to disperse. 
 
 Scaled, overreached. 
 
 Scaling, weighiug. 
 
 Scall, scab. 
 
 Scamble, to scramble. 
 
 Scan, to examine nicely. 
 
 Scantling, proportion. 
 
 Scarfed, decorated with flags. 
 
 Scath. destruction 
 
 Scathful, niLscliievous. 
 
 Sconce, the head. 
 
 Sconce, a fortification. 
 
 Scotch, to bruise. 
 
 Scrimers, fencers. 
 
 Scrip, a writing, a list. 
 
 Scniyles, scurvy fellows. 
 
 Scrubbed, sluiiied. 
 
 Sculls, shoals of lish. 
 
 Scutched, whipped. 
 
 Seat, to strcngibeu, or complete. 
 
 Seam, lard. 
 
 Seamels, a bird. 
 
 Sear, lo stigmatize, to close. 
 
 Season, to temper, to infix, to impress. 
 
 Seat, throne. 
 
 Sect, a cutting in gardening. 
 
 Seel, to close up. 
 
 Seeling, blinding. 
 
 Seeming, seemly. 
 
 Seen, versed, practised. 
 
 Sold, seldom. 
 
 Semblably, resemhlingly. 
 
 Senioiy, neniority. 
 
 Srnuet, a fiourish on cornets. 
 
 Sense, .sensual desires. 
 
 Septentrion, the north. 
 
 Seriucstration, separation. 
 
 Sere, or sear, dry. 
 
 Serpigo, a tetter. 
 
 Ser\e, to fulfil. 
 
 Setebos, a demon. 
 
 Set of wit, a term at tennis. 
 
 Sessa, be quiet. 
 
 Several, separated. 
 
 Several, or severell, a field set apart 
 
 for corn and grass. 
 Sewer, the placer of the dishes. 
 Shame, modesty. 
 
 Shard-biirue, borne on scaly wings. 
 Shards, beetle's wings. 
 Shards, broken pots or tiles. 
 Shark up, to p,ck up. 
 Shaven Hercules, Samson. 
 Sheen, shining, gay. 
 Sheer, transparent. 
 Sbent, to scold, rebuke 
 Sherris, sherry. 
 Shive, a slice. 
 Shog, to go otf. 
 Sliotlen, projected. 
 Shotlen herring, a herring that has 
 
 spawned. 
 Shoulder-cbipper, a bailiff. 
 Shoughs, shocks, a species cf dog. 
 Shove groat, a game. 
 Shovel boards, shillings used at (he 
 
 game of shovel board. 
 Shrewd, shrewish. 
 Shrift, auricular confession. 
 Shrive, to call to confession. 
 Side, purpose. 
 Side-sleeves, long sleeves 
 Siege, a stool. 
 Sieve, a common voider. 
 Sightless, unsightly. 
 Sights, the pel torated parts of a helmet. 
 Sinew, streigth. 
 Single, weak. 
 
 Sink-a pace, ciHiiue pate, a dance. 
 Sir, the tit'e of a parson. 
 Sister, to imitate or re-echo. 
 Sithence, thence. 
 Sizes, allowances of victuals. 
 I Skain's-mates, kiu's-mates. 
 Skill, reason. 
 
 Skills not, is of no importance. 
 Skinker, a tapster. 
 Skirr, to scour. 
 Slaie, to treat with indignity. 
 i Sleave, the knotty part of silk. 
 
 S edded, cair.ed on a sltdge. 
 I S eided, untwisted. 
 Slighis. tricks. 
 Slip, coiiiilerfeit coin. 
 Slips, a contrivance in leather, to start 
 
 two diiirs at the same lime. 
 Sl.'ver, to slice. 
 Slops, louse bi*eches. 
 Sloujh the skin which the serpent an 
 
 nually iliro«s ort'. 
 SIf.ner, more sernMis. 
 Slubber •« do carelessly, lo obscure. 
 
 SUiggnbed. .sliiegar.l. 
 
 Smirched, sinled. 
 
 Sneapt, rebuke. 
 
 Sneaping, nipping. 
 
 Sii- ckup. go hang yourself. 
 
 Snipe, a poltroon 
 
 Snuff, anser. 
 
 Snuffs, dislikes. 
 
 Soil, spot, turpitude, reproach. 
 
 Solicit, courtship. 
 
 Soliciting, inforiiiulion. 
 
 Solidares. a coin. 
 
 .Snmetiines, formerly. 
 
 Sooth, truth. 
 
 Sootli, s.weetness. 
 
 Sore 1. a deer during his third year. 
 
 Sort, to happen, to agree. 
 
 .Sort and suit, figure and ranV . 
 
 Sot, a fool. 
 
 Solid, sweet. 
 
 Soul-feariug, soul aiipaliii;;. 
 
 Sound, to publish. 
 
 Soused gurnet, a gudgeou. 
 
 Sowl, to pull by the ears. 
 
 Sow le, to drag do« n. 
 
 Sowter, the name of a houai. 
 
 Spanielled, dogsed. 
 
 Specialty, particular rigbti. \ 
 
 Speculation, sight. 
 
 Speculative, seeing. 
 
 Sped, the fate decided. 
 
 Speed, event. 
 
 Sperr, to shut up, defend by tai*. 
 
 Spill, to desiroy. 
 
 Spitted, wicked. 
 
 Spiag. apt to learn, alert. 
 
 Sprighted, haunted. 
 
 S|iriglits, spirits. 
 
 Springhalt, a disease of borsei. 
 
 Spurs, the greater roots of trees. 
 
 Scpiare, lo quarrel. 
 
 Squarer, a quarrelier. 
 
 Squash an inimatnre peascod, 
 
 Squiney, to look asquint. 
 
 Squire, a rule, or square. 
 
 Stage, to place conspicuously 
 
 Stale, a decoy for biids. 
 
 Siannyel, a hawk, or slallion. 
 
 Star, a sear. 
 
 Stark, still'. 
 
 Starred, destined. 
 
 Statists, statesmen 
 
 Statue, a iiortrait. 
 
 Stay, a hiiiderer. a supporter. 
 
 Si icking-plaee, the stop in a machine. 
 
 Sticklers, urbitralors, judges, parti- 
 sans, umpires. 
 
 Stigmatic, marked with deformity, 
 
 Stigniatical, stifiinatised. 
 
 Stilly, gladly, lowly. 
 
 Stinied, stopped. 
 
 Stith, an anvil. 
 
 Slithied, forged at the furnace. 
 
 Stithy, a smith's shop. 
 
 Stoccata, a slab. 
 
 Slock, a siiicking. 
 
 Stomach, pride. 
 
 Stone-bow, a crossbow. 
 
 S(o\er, thatch. 
 
 Strain, descent, lia Bge. 
 
 Strain, diflicnity, doubt. 
 
 Strait, narrow, avaricious. 
 
 Strange, shy. 
 
 Stratagem, great or dreadful event. 
 
 Strawy, slra\ing. 
 
 Striker, a borrower. 
 
 Stuck or Stock, a term in fenciDK. 
 
 Stuff, baggage, substance or es.seoec 
 
 Stuttied, suthciency, ample abilities. 
 
 Subscription, obedience. 
 
 Success, succession. 
 
 SulBciency, abilities. 
 
 Siiggesi, lo tempt. 
 
 Suggestion, temptation. 
 
 Suited, dressed. 
 
 Sumpter, a horse that carries necessa- 
 ries on a journey. 
 
 Superfluous, over clothed. 
 
 Supposed, counterfeit. 
 
 Sur reined, over ridden. 
 
 Suspire, to breathe. 
 
 Sui cease, an end. 
 
 Swart, daik brown. 
 
 Swashing, bullying. 
 
 Swath, grass cut at one stroke. 
 
 Sway, weight. 
 
 Sweeting, an a|ip!c. 
 
 Sweliered, weltered. 
 
 Sw inge-biicklers, riotous fellow-. 
 
 Swounded, swooned. 
 
 Su oup, the descent of a bird of pr9V« 
 T 
 
 Tnble, lb'' palm of the hand. 
 
 Tiible, a picture. 
 
 Tables, iHlibts. memorandiitB bOo!(S. 
 
 TidionriiH . a smal drum. 
 
 Take, lo strike wnb di»r;«uie, (o Mast, 
 
 Ti\ke in, to coiiuuer 
 
804 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Take-iip, to contradic' 
 Talent, laloii. 
 Tall, courageou?. 
 Tallcnv kf-eth, luhof talinw. 
 Tame, iiipfiecdiHl. 
 Tami?-siiake. a poltroon. 
 Tarrc. to excite, provoke. 
 Tartar, Tartarus. 
 
 Task, to keep busind witli scniple.s. 
 Tassel Gentle, or Tercel Gentle, a spe- 
 cies of hawk. 
 Tasked, taxed. 
 Taurus, sides and heart in medical 
 
 astrology. 
 Tawdry, nccklacca worn by country 
 
 girls. 
 Taw 11 y coat, the dress of an apparitor. 
 Taxation, censure, satire. 
 Tear a cat, to hlus er. 
 Teen, grief, trouble. 
 Temperance, temperature. 
 Tender, to regard with ailection, 
 Teut, to take up re.sidence, to search. 
 Tercel, the male hawk. 
 Teriu.s, the phraseology ofcounj. 
 Tested, attested, brought to the test. 
 Testerned, gratified with a tester, or 
 
 sixpence. 
 Tetchy, touchy, peevish. 
 Tether, a string by which any animal is 
 
 fastened. 
 Tharborough, a constable. 
 Theorick, theory. 
 Tliewes, muscu.ar strength. 
 Thick, pleached, thicky interwoven. 
 Thill, theshaltsofacart. 
 Thill helm, thin covering of hair. 
 Thrasonical, boasting. 
 Thread, to pass. 
 Three man-beeile, an implement for 
 
 driving piles. 
 Three pile, rich velvet. 
 Thrift, prosperity, economy. 
 Thrum, the extremity of a weaver's 
 
 warp 
 Thrummed, made of coarse woollen. 
 Tib, a strumpet. 
 Tickle, ticklish. 
 Tickle biain, a strong drink. 
 Tilly-vally, pooh! 
 Tilth, tillage. 
 Timeless, nntimely. 
 Tire, to fasten. 
 Tire, to lie idly employed on. 
 Tired, adorned. 
 Tire valiant, a head-dress. 
 Tirra-liria, the song of the lark. 
 Toged, habited. 
 Tokened, spotted. 
 Topless, .supreme. 
 Touches, features. 
 Toward, in readiness. 
 Toys, whims, rumours. 
 Toze. to unravel. 
 Trade, established custom. 
 Trail, scent left by game. 
 Tra tress, a term of endearment. 
 Trammel, to catch. 
 Trailed, a ferry or sluice. 
 Translate, to transform. 
 Trash, to check. 
 Traversed, across. 
 Tray trip, a game at draffs. 
 Treachers, traitors. 
 Trcnclied, carved. 
 Trick, peculiarity of feature. 
 Trick, to dress out. 
 Tricksy, adroit. 
 Trigon, Aries, Leo, andSagittanu3 in 
 
 the Zodiac. 
 Trip, to defeat. 
 Triple, one of three. 
 Triumphs, revels. 
 Troiau, cant term for thief. 
 Trol-my-dames, the game ol nine ho. es. 
 Troll, to sing trippingly. 
 Trossers, trousers. 
 Trot, a term of contempt. 
 Trow, to imagine. 
 Truly good, or turlupin, a gipsy. 
 Trundle tail, a dog. 
 Trusted, thrusled. 
 Try conclusions, trv experiments. 
 Tub fast . the sweating process in the 
 
 venereal disease. 
 Tucket, or tucket sonnuance. a flou- 
 rish on a trumpet. 
 Torre, to whisper 
 Turhgond.or Turlupin, a gipsy. 
 Twang ing jack a scurvy musician. 
 Twicken bottle, a wickered bottle. 
 Twiigiig, wickered. 
 Tything, a district. 
 
 V. 
 Umr,"r. a dnaky colourei) eirlh. 
 LFiianel>-d wilhnul extreme nnilion 
 Unavoided, uiiavoididile 
 
 Dnbiirbed, beardless, unshareu. 
 Utibaied, not blunied. 
 
 tiiliitttii, unliridied. 
 Unbolt toi-.\p!ain. 
 
 Unbolted, coarse. 
 
 Unbuuelted, witliout dignities. 
 
 Unboukish, unlearned. 
 
 Uiibreathed, unpractised. 
 
 Uncape, to dig out, a term in fox-bunt- 
 ing- 
 
 Uncharged, uiiattacked. 
 
 Uuclew. to unwind. 
 
 Uncoined, uiireiiiied, unadorned. 
 
 Uucoiihrmed, unpractised iu wordly 
 craft. 
 
 Uncurl ent, irregular. 
 
 Undeicraft, to wear beneath the crest. 
 
 Under skiiiker, a tajisler. 
 
 Understand, sand under. 
 
 Uiideruiker, ihe defender of another's 
 q,;airel. 
 
 Underwrite, to subscribe, to obey. 
 
 Uueatli, scarcely. 
 
 Uncxpressive, inexpressible. 
 
 Unfair, to deprive of beauty. 
 
 Uu-enilured, wiihuut genilal.s. 
 
 Unhaired, youihlul. 
 
 Unhappy, unlucky, mischievous. 
 
 Unlioused, free from domestic cares. 
 
 Unhousellcd, without having the sacra- 
 ment. 
 
 Union, a suecies cf pearl. 
 
 Uinlived, lifeless. 
 
 Unlustrous, without lustre. 
 
 Unmanned, a term iu faiconry. 
 
 Unmastered, licentious. 
 
 Uiiowcd, unowned. 
 
 Unpregnant, not quickened. 
 
 Unproiier, common. 
 
 Unquaiitied, iininaiiiied. 
 
 Uiuiue uionable, as erse to conversation, 
 
 Unready, undrest. 
 
 Unre.spective, inconsiderate. 
 
 Unrough, beardless. 
 
 Unsisting, unresisting, unfeeling. 
 
 Ciismirched, undefiled. 
 
 Unsquared, uiiadapted. 
 
 Unsianched, incontinent. 
 
 Untcmpering, not softening. 
 
 Unienied, not probed, \iru;ent. 
 
 UulraJed, not incomniou use. 
 
 Untriinmed, undrest. 
 
 Upspring, a dauce. 
 
 Vail, to bow, to sink, to condescend 'o 
 
 look. 
 Vailing, loweiing. 
 Van, vanity. 
 Vain, lying. 
 
 Valance, fringed with a beard. 
 Vanity, illusion. 
 
 Vantage, opportunity, advantage. 
 Van brace, armour for the arm. 
 Varlet, a servant. 
 Vast, waste, dreary. 
 Vaniit, Iheavant, the fore-part. 
 Vawaid, the fore pan. 
 Velure, velvet. 
 Venetian, admittance. 
 Vent, rumour. 
 Ventiges, holes cf a flute. 
 Verbal, verbose. 
 Verify, to bear witness. 
 Veiiew, a bout (iu fencing.) 
 Vengeance, mischief. 
 Veneys, hits. 
 
 Veronese, a ship from Verona. 
 Versing, writing verses. 
 Very, immediate. 
 Via, a cant phrase of exultation. 
 Vice, the fool of the old moralities. 
 Vice, grasp. 
 Vie, to biag. 
 Viewless, invisible. 
 Villain, a worllUess fellow, a servant. 
 Vild, vile. 
 Violeuteth, ragelh. 
 Virginal, a kind of spinnct. 
 Virtue, valour. 
 Viriuous, healthy. 
 Virtuous, well- bred. 
 Vixen, or Kixen, a female fox. 
 Vizamcnt, advLsenient. 
 Vox, tone or voice. 
 Vulgar, common. 
 Vulgarly, commonly. 
 
 W. 
 
 Waft, to beckon. 
 
 V/age, to com at. 
 
 Wages, rs equal to. 
 
 Waist, that part of a ship between Iho 
 
 quarterdeck and the IbrecasUe. 
 Waist, the middle. 
 Walk, a district in a forest. 
 Wanned, pale. 
 
 Wannion, vengeance. 
 
 Ward, posture, of deference. 
 
 Ward, guardianship. 
 
 Warden, a pear. 
 
 Warn, suiiiinnn. 
 
 Wasselscandle.catidleuscd at festivalf 
 
 Wassels, rustic re>elry. 
 
 Watch, a watihliglit 
 
 Water work, water-colours. 
 
 Wax, to grow . 
 
 Wa^ien. increase. 
 
 Waxen, soft, yielding 
 
 ^Vallton, a feeble or effeminate ir.an. 
 
 Wappened decayed, diseased. 
 
 Warder, a sentinel. 
 
 Warp.to change from thenafural siate 
 
 Wee, very little. 
 
 Weeds clothing. 
 
 \S eeii, to iniHgine. 
 
 Weigh, to \uiue or esteem. 
 
 Weird, prophetic. 
 
 Welkin, the sky. 
 
 Welkin eye, blue eye. 
 
 Well-a near! lack-a-day! 
 
 Well likirig, plump. 
 
 Wend, to go. 
 
 Westward hoe, the name of a pJsj 
 
 acted in Shakspeare's time. 
 Wether, used for a ram. 
 Wear, the fashion. 
 
 Whelked, varied with protuberances, 
 Wlic'r. whether. 
 Wliere, whereas. 
 
 Wliiffler. an officer in processions. 
 Whiles, unl.l. 
 Whinidst, mouldy. 
 Whip, he crack, the best. 
 Wliipstock, the carter's whip. 
 Whirring, hurrying. 
 Wliist being silent. 
 White, the white mark in the target. 
 Wliite death, the greensickness. 
 Whiting time, bleaching time. 
 Whitbters, linen bleachers. 
 Whittle, a pocket knife. 
 Whooping, measure and reckoniniL 
 Wide, remote from. 
 Wilderness, wilduess. 
 Will, wilfulness. 
 Wimple, a hood or veil. 
 Winchester goo.^e, a strumpet. 
 Winking gates, gates hastily closed 
 
 from fear of d.mger. 
 Winnowed, examined. 
 Winter ground, to protect againsl 
 
 winter. 
 Wis, to know. 
 
 Wi.se woman, a witch, a fortune-teller. 
 Wish, to recommend. 
 Wit, to know. 
 Witch, lo bewitch. 
 Witliy, judicious, cunning. 
 Wiis, senses. 
 Wittol, knowing, conscious of, 
 
 Wittol a contented cuckold, i. 
 
 Woe, to be sorry. 
 
 Woman, to alVect deeply. 
 
 Woman lired, henpecked. 
 
 Wondered, able to perforin woaders. 
 
 Woed, crazy, frantic 
 
 Woiiden thing, awkward business. 
 
 World lo see, wonderful. 
 
 Woodman, au attendant on the forester. 
 
 Woolward, wearing wool. 
 
 Work, fortification. 
 
 Workings, thoughts. 
 
 Worm, a serpent. 
 
 Worth, wealth 
 
 M'orship, dignity. 
 
 Wreak, to revenge ; resentment. 
 
 Wrest, an instrument for tunlDS *' '' 
 harp. 
 
 Wrested, obtained by force. 
 
 Wretch, a term of fondness. 
 
 Writ, writing. 
 
 Write, lo pronounce confidently. 
 
 Writhled. wrinkled. 
 
 Wry, lo deviate- 
 Wrong, hurt. 
 
 Wroth, misfortune. 
 
 Wrought, asitalcd. 
 
 Wrung, pressed, strained. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Vare, nimble, bandy. 
 Yarely. i.imbly. adroitly. 
 Yearn, to grieve <ir vex. 
 Veild, lo inform of. 
 Yellowne.ss jealousy. 
 Yeoman, a bailifT's follower. 
 Yerk, to kick, 
 Yesty foaming, frothy. 
 Young, early. 
 
 Z. 
 Zanv,ahulioon. 
 Zealous, pious. 
 Zed, a term of contempt. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 " A rot/en circass of a boat. "—Act I. Sc. 2. 
 Shaksppare inijlit li&ve read the followiiis in Hdlinshed : 
 — « After (Iiis. was Edwin, (lie kind's brother, accused of 
 some coiispiiflcie by liiin heeiin against tlie k-r.f: : where 
 upon he was banislitd the land ; and sent out in an o/d 
 fut/fti Vfssfl, witliout rowers or mariner, oiilie accnm- 
 (lanied with one esquier, so that being launched forth 
 i\ cm the shore, throngh despaire, Edwin leapt info the sea, 
 and drowned himself." 
 
 " S.'tehcs.'—S.H I. Sc 2. 
 We learn from 'M:><'e|ln-:'s V'.iynn.-s, '\n< .'ipf->f>ni viasfhe 
 supreme god of the !'«trt.f/<!«.t. This fabulaos deity is also 
 snentioned in Hackluyt's Voyages, 1698. Barbet says, 
 " The Palaijons are reported todr«ad a great horned devil, 
 called Sflrbos." And, in Eden's Historye of Travayle, 
 1577, we are told, that the iiianles, when they found them- 
 selves fettered, roared like bulls, and cried upon Setebos to 
 iielp tbein. 
 
 " For nu Und of traffic 
 
 Would 1 ai'Diit, no name of taagistrate." — Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 Shakxpeare has here followed a passage in Montaigne, 
 as translHt'd by John Florio, 1603: — "It is a nation that 
 hath no kiml of trafficke, ko knowledge of letters, no in- 
 telligence of numbers, ko ttame of magistrate, no, ofpolitic 
 enperioriiie ; no use of service, q) rickes or of pwerlie ; 
 no contracts, no successions, no partitions, no occupation, 
 itutidle^ no respect of kiodred but common; no apparel but 
 natural; iie use of wiue, corn, or metal. The very words 
 that import lying, falsehood, treason, dissimulations, cove- 
 tousncss, envie, detraction, and pardon, were never heard 
 iimongst them." 
 
 " Sometime like apes, that moto and cfiatter at me, 
 And after bale me; then like hedge hogs, which 
 Lie tumbling in viy bare foot way." — Act U. Sc. 2. 
 
 Perhaps taken from a passage in Harsnet's Declaration 
 ■of I'opisli Impostures. " They make antikc faces, grin, 
 mow an i mop, lite an ape i tumble like an hedge-hog,'' — 
 OOUCE. 
 
 « A dead Indian."- \cl II. Sc 2. 
 
 Sir Martin Frobislier, when be returned from his voyage 
 of discovery, biduglit with him some native Indians. In 
 ills History of the First Voyage for the Discoverie of Ca- 
 taya, we have the following account of a savage taken by 
 Jiim: — " Wliereupon, when he founde himself in capiivitie, 
 for very choler and disdain, he bit his torig in twaine, 
 nithin his mouth : notwithstanding, he died not thereof, 
 tout tired untitl he came in Etyjlande. and then he died 
 ofcohle, which he had taken at sea."— STEEVENS. 
 "Nor scrape trenchering," — Act III. Sc. I. 
 
 In onr author's time, trenchi-rs were in general use, and 
 male domestics were employed in cleansing ihem. " I have 
 ielped, (says Lyly in his History of his Life and Times, 
 IC20,) to carry eighteen tubs of water in one morning ; all 
 manner of drudgery, 1 willingly performed; scrape- 
 4re)iclters,'' ^c— MALONE. 
 
 " He were a brave monster indeed, if theg were set in his 
 ^ai/."— Act III. Sc.2. 
 
 Probably in allusion to Stowe. It seems in the year 
 ?u74 a whale was thrown ashore near Ramsgate, « a mons- 
 '.roiis fish, but not so monstrous as some reported, for 
 ils et/i-s were in his head, and not in his back." 
 
 "This is the tKue of our catch, piayed by the picture of 
 Nobody."— \c\. III. Sc.2. 
 A ridiculous figure, sometimes painted on signs. West- 
 
 waid for Smelts, a book which our poets seems to have read, 
 was printed fur John Trundle, in Barbican, at the sign of 
 the No bod !/ ; <ir the allusion may be to the print vf No- 
 body, as prefixed (o the anonymous comedv of No-body 
 and Sii'tie body, without date, but printed before the year 
 ICOO — MALONE. 
 
 " One tree, the Vhtenix^ throne."— Act III. Sc. 3. 
 
 In Holland's Pliny, the following passage occurs : " { 
 myselfe Verily have heard stiauiige things of this kind of 
 tree : and namely, in regard of the bird Phoenix, which is 
 supposed to have taken that name of this Dnte Tree ; for 
 it was assured unto me, thai the said bird died with that 
 tree, and revived of ilselfe as the tree sprung again." 
 
 -" Mountaineers, 
 
 Dew -lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them 
 Wallets ofjlesh ?»— Act IH. Sc. ?.. 
 
 Wlioeveris curious to know the particulars relative to 
 these mountniuerrs, may consult Mnundeville's Travels, 
 printed in l.i03 : but it is yet a xnown truth, that the inha- 
 bitants of the Al!)3 have been long accustomed to such 
 excrescences or tumours.— STEEVENS. 
 
 "Each putter-out of one for five. "—Act III. Sc. 3. 
 
 The custom here alluded to was as follows :— It was a 
 practice of those who engaged in long and hazardous ex- 
 peditions, to place out a sum of money, on condition o/ 
 receiving great interest for it at their return home. So in 
 Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour :— ' I do intend 
 this year of jubilee coming on, to travel; and (because I 
 will not altogether go upon expence) I am determimed to 
 put somc/iv thou.sand pounds, to be paid me fire for one, 
 upon the return of my wife, myself, aud my dog, from the 
 Turk's court, in Constantinople." 
 
 " Like poison, given to work a great time (xfler." 
 Act III. Sc. 3. 
 
 Tlie native.? of Africa were supposed to be possessed of 
 the secret how to temper poisons with such art, as not to 
 o|)erate till several years after they were administered. 
 Italian travellers relate similar effects of the aqua tofana, 
 a subtle, colourless and tasteless poison, which ladies carry 
 about them, and have at their toilets, among their perfumed 
 waters, for the purpose of administering in the drink of 
 faithless lovers. In the chapel at Arundel, is the effigy of 
 a nobleman of the Howard family, who, having incurred 
 the jealousy of an Italian lady during his travels, was poi- 
 soned in this manner, and die<l after lingering many years. 
 The eltigy represents him nearly naked, his lioues scarcely 
 covered by his skin, and presenting altogether a most de- 
 plorable spectacle. 
 
 "And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes. — Act IV. Sc. 1, 
 
 Caliban's barnacle is the clakis or tree-gonse. CoITms 
 very simply tells us, that the barnacle wuich glows on 
 ships was meant; and quotes the following passage to 
 support his opinion; — "There are, in the north oarfs of 
 Scotland, certainc trees, whereon do grow sljill fishes, 
 which, falling in the water, do become fowls, whom we call 
 barnacles; in the north of England, brant-^eese ; audio 
 Lancashire, treegeese, " — DOUCE. 
 
 " Some subtatis o' the isfe."—.\.cl V. Sc. I. 
 
 This is a phrase adopted from ancient cookery and con- 
 fectionery. When a dish was so contrived as lo appear 
 unlike what it really was, they called H a subiilly Dra- 
 gons, castles, trees. SiC. made out of sugar, had the like 
 denomination.— STEEVENS. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 « Nay, slve we not the boots."— Act. I. Sc. I. 
 
 Tne boot was an instrument of torture used only in 
 Scotland. Bishop Burnet mentions one Maccael, a preai her, 
 :vho being SHvpec/frf of treason, underwent the punishment 
 so late as IfVJO. " He was put to the torture, which, in Scot- 
 land, they ci>l\ ibe boots; for they put a pair of iron 6of//i 
 riose on (he Jig, and drive wedges between these and the 
 leg. The cnmmon torture was only to drive these on the 
 caUid't'ie leg, but I have been told they were sometimes 
 driven upon the ihin bone."— KEFD. 
 
 " A lacd mutton "—Act I- Sc. I. 
 
 A laced r,ii't:on was in inr author's time, so usual a term 
 joracourfezan.lhat a street in Clerkenwell much frequent- 
 ed by iiroslitule-i. was called Mutton Lane. — MALONE. 
 
 " I see i/'iu have a month's mind to them." — .Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 A month's mind was an anniversary in times of po- 
 pery; or a less solemnity direct<d by will. There was 
 also a year's mind, and a week's mind. So in .Strype's 
 )>iemorials, "July ITiSt). was the mouth's mind fit' Sir Wil- 
 iiam Saxton, who died the last rauuth, his hearse burning 
 
 witli wax, and the m.irrow mass celebrated, aud a sermon 
 preached."— O It EY. 
 
 « Sir Valentine and servant." — Act li. Sc. 1. 
 Here Silvia calls her lover servant, and again below, 
 her gentle servant. This was the langnage of ladies ta 
 their lovers when Shakspeare wrote. — HAVVKINS. 
 
 "A waxen image 'gainst a Jlre.i— Act II. Sc. 4. 
 Alluding to the figures made by witches, as rep'-esenfa- 
 (ives of ihose whom ihey designed to toiinent or destroy. 
 King James ascribes these images to (he devii, in his Trea- 
 tise of Daemonologie : " (o some (dhers a( these limes he 
 teacheth kow lo make (lirtures n{ wiixe or claye, that by 
 the roasting tlu'reof, the persons (hat (liey bear (he name 
 if'may be continUHllv melted, aud dried away by continual 
 sickncsse."— W ESTON. 
 
 " With a cod piece.."— Act II. Sc. 7. 
 
 MHioever wishes to be informed respecting this iinr'if ular 
 relative to dress, may consult Bnliver's Artificial Change- 
 ling. It is mentioned, too, iu Tyro's Roaring Megge, Ijby . 
 
«)6 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 " Tyro's round breeches hare a cliffe behind. 
 And that same perking lunijiliide before ; 
 nhich, for apin case, aiiliqiie plowmen uore." 
 Ocular instruction may be liad from the armour shewn as 
 Joho of Gaunt's, in the Tower of London. The custom of 
 sticking pins in this ostentations piece of indecency was con- 
 tinued by the Tower-wardens, till forbidden by autbority. 
 —STEVENS. 
 
 " Sai?it Nicliolas be thy speed!"— Act HI, Sc. 1. 
 
 Thut this saint presided over young scholars, may be 
 gathered from Knight's Life of Dean Collett; for by the 
 stnl\ites of I'aul's School there inserled, Ihe children are 
 required to attend divine service at the cathedral on his 
 annivcrsk.ry. The reason, probably, was, that the legend 
 of tliis saint makes him to have been a bishop, while he was 
 a boy.— HAWKINS. 
 
 " The cover of the salt hides the salL'—Act III. Sc. 1. 
 
 The ancient English sa/t-cellar was very dilferent from 
 the modem, being a large piece of plate, generally much 
 ornamented, with a cover to keep the salt cltan. 
 
 * Upon whose grace thon vow'd'st pure chastity. " 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 It was common informer ages for widowers and widow.s 
 to make vowsof chastity, in honour of their deceased wives 
 or husbands. In Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire, 
 there is the form of a commission by the bishop of the dio- 
 cese for taking -> vow of chastity by a widow. It seems that 
 besides observing the vow, the widow was for life to wear a 
 veil, and a muuniing habit. The same distinction wc iii«, 
 supposp to have been made in respect of male votarist.*. 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 * But since she did neglect her looking glass. 
 And threw her sun-expelling mask away." — Act IV. Se, 4. 
 
 "When they use to ride abroad, they liave masks or vi- 
 zors, made ot velvet, wherewith (hey cover all their faces, 
 having holes made in (hem again.st their eyes, whereout 
 they look ; so that if a man that knew not their guise be- 
 fore, should chance to meet one of them, he would think he 
 met a monster or a devil, for face he can shew (see) none, 
 but two broad holes again.st their eves, with gla».ses in 
 I them."— ANATOWIE OF ABUSES, 1595. 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 " ttow does your fallov! greyhound, sir? I heard soy he 
 was out-run OH Colsa/e."—Ac\ I. Sc. 1. 
 
 He means Cotswnld, in Gloucestershire. In the be- 
 ginning of James the Firit's reign, by (lerinission of the 
 king, one Dover, a public-spirited attorney of Barton-on 
 the-Hcath, in Warwickshire, instituted on the hills of 
 Culswuld an annual celebration of games, consisting of 
 rural sports and exercises. These he constantly conducted 
 in person, well mounted and accoutred in a suit of his ma- 
 iesly's old clothes ; and they were frequented above forty 
 vears by the nobility and gentry for sixty miles round, till 
 the grand rebellion abolished every liberal establishment. 
 T. WAKTON. 
 
 " Mill' sixpences." — Act I. Sc. 1. 
 It appears from a pa.ssage iq Sir William D'Avenant's 
 News from Plirainith, that these villi sixpences were used 
 by way of counters to cast up money : 
 
 « , a few mill'd sixpences, with which 
 
 My purser casts acconipt. STEEVENS. 
 
 " Edivanl s/iovel-hoards."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 "Edward shovel boards" were the broad shillings of 
 Edward VI. Taylor, the water-poet, in his Travel of 
 Twelve-pence, makes him complain : 
 
 « the unlhrift every day 
 
 With my face doumwards do at shoave-buard play ; 
 
 That had 1 had a beard, you viay suppose, 
 
 They had wurne it nff', as they have dune my nose " 
 
 FARMER. 
 
 * Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my 
 cousin Shallow." — Act I. Sc. 1. 
 
 niis passage shews that it was formerly the custom in 
 Euglan'J, as it is now in France, for persons to be attended 
 at dinner by their own servants, wherever ihey diutd. 
 MASUN. 
 
 "A master of fence." — .Vet I. Sc. I. 
 
 FenciJig WHS taught as a regular science. Three degrees 
 were usually taken in this art, a tnnsier's, a provost's, and 
 a scholar's. For each of these a prize was played, as exer- 
 cises are kept in Universities for similar purposes. The 
 wetipons they used were the axe, the pike, rapier and tar- 
 get, rapier and cloalc, two swords, the two hand sword, 
 the bastard sword, the dagger and slatf, the sword and 
 buckler, tlie rapier and digger, &c. 1 he places where 
 they exercised were, coinnwiijly, theatres, halls, or other 
 .'uclosures sulnciciit to contain a number of spectators , as 
 Ely place, iiiHolborn; the Belle Sauvage, onLudgate hill; 
 Hampton-court, the Artillery-garden, (Sc.—Sl'EEVENS. 
 
 " Sackerson »— ?vct I. Sc. 2. 
 Saikerson or Sitcar.'.oii was the name of a bear, exhibited 
 in our author's time, at l^aris Garden. See an old book of 
 Epigrams by Sir John Daves ; 
 
 * Fid'/iiis, a student of the common law. 
 To faris Garden duth himself withdraw ; 
 heaviny old Vtuydrn, liyer, unit Broke, alone, 
 'io see old Harry Hunkes, and A'ac-rtrio/i."- MALONE. 
 " S'te discourses, she carves, she gives the leer ofiuvita^ 
 c« -"'— Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 Anciently, the young of both sexes were instructed in 
 carving, as a necessary accomplishment. It seems to have 
 been fiiiisideved a ma k of kindness when a lady cnrvi'd[i\ 
 n gentleman. So in Vittoria Corombona : " Your husband 
 is Wondrous discnntenled. I did nothing to displease hrm; 
 1 cringed to him at supper-time."— STEEVENS and BOS- 
 WELL. 
 
 " far gourd andfullam holds. 
 
 And high and low beguile the rich and poor." 
 
 Actl.Sc. 3. 
 Gourds were, probably, dice in which a secret cavity hnd 
 been made: Fullams. (so called beiaiise chieily made at 
 Vulham,) those which had been loadeil wi h a small bit of 
 lead. High men and liiwmen. which are also cant terms, 
 explain themselves. Hii/h numbers on the dice, at hazard, 
 are from five to twelve inclusive ; tow, from aces to four — 
 MALONE. 
 
 "Flemish drunkard." Act II. Sc 1. 
 It is not without cause that this reproachful phrase is 
 
 u^ed. .'ir Jihii .Sniylhe. in Certain Discourses, 4to. 1590 
 say.s, li.at the hiihit of drinking to excess was introduced 
 into England fmin tlie Low Countries, "by some of cur 
 such men of warre within these verie few years: whereol! 
 it is come to passe that now- a dajes there are very few 
 feast es where our said men of warre are present, but they 
 do invite and procure all the companie, of what calling 
 soever they be, to carowsing and quaffing ; and because 
 they will not be denied their challenges, they, with manie 
 new conges, ceremonies, and reverences, drinke to the 
 healthe and prosperitie of princes; tothehealthe of coun- 
 sellors, and unto the healthe of their greatest friends, botb 
 at home and abroad : in which exercise they never cease tilt 
 they be deade drunke, or, as the Flemings say, duo! 
 dronken." He adds, "and this aforesaid detestable vice 
 hath, within these six or seven years, taken wonderful 
 roote amongst cur English nation, that in times past w«8 
 wont to be of all other nations inChristendoine cue of the 
 soberest. "— RKED. 
 
 " My long sword."— Act 11. Sc. 1. 
 
 Before the introduction of rapiers, the swords in use 
 were of an enormous length, and soineiimes raised with 
 both hands. Shallow, wi;h an old man's vanity, censure.s 
 the innovation by wh ch lighter weapons were introduced, 
 tells what he could once have done with h's long sword, 
 and ridicules (he terms and rules of (he rapie.r. Shak^peare 
 commits a great anachronism in making Shallow talk of the 
 rapier in Henry IV. 's reign, an Imiulred and seventy years 
 before it was used in England. — JOHNSON. 
 
 " When Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan," 
 
 Act II. Sc.2 
 
 It should be remembered ihai fans, in our author's lime 
 were more costly th.Vn Ihey are at present, as well as of a 
 ditlerent construction. They consisted of ostrich feathcr.s, 
 (or others of equal leiig h and lleiiibi.ity,) which were stuck 
 into handles. The richer sort of these w ere conT|)osed ot 
 gold, silver or ivory, of curious workaianship, and fre- 
 quently ornamenteJ wi(h pi-eeious sumes. Mention is 
 made in the Sydney Papers, of a Jnn presented to Qneea 
 Elizabeth, for a new year's gii't, (he handle of which wa.i 
 studded with diamonds. It was not uncommon among the 
 (oppish young noblemen of that age, to carrv fnns ot this 
 sjilendid description; a singular piece of eticminncy for 
 that early jieriod— STEEVENS, &c. 
 
 " Red lattice phrases."— Act II. Sc. ?. 
 
 Red lattice at the doors and windows were formerly the 
 i^xternal denotements of an ale-house. Hence the present 
 chequers. In one of Shackerley Warmion's plays we reaij 
 "a waterman's widow at the signe of the Brd Lattice in 
 Southwark," It is a curious circumstance, that 'the si^n oj 
 the Chequers was common among the Romans. It was 
 found iu several of the streets excavated at I'ompeii. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 "AmaimoH — Barbason". —Act II. Sc.2. 
 
 Reginald Scott informs ns, that "the demon Amaimotf 
 was king of the East, and Burbatvs a great countie 07 
 earle." Randle Holme, however, in bis Academy of Ar- 
 mory any Blazon, tells us that, " Amaymun is the chiel 
 whose dominion is on Ihe north side of the infernal gelph ; 
 and tJiat Barbatos is like a Sagittarius, and hsth thirty 
 legions under him."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " That becomes the ship-tire, the tiretjaliant, or any lire 
 of Veiiilian admittance."— .\.ct HI. Sc. 3 
 
 The extravagance of female dress is here satir'zed. We 
 shall give an extract or two on this subject from contem- 
 jiorarv authors : 
 
 " Their heads, with their top and top gallant lawne baby 
 caps, and snow-resembled silver curlings, they make a 
 plain puppet stage of. Their breasts embushe up on 
 hie, and (heir round rosea(e buds they imniodi-slly lay 
 forth, to shew at their hands there is fri'iit to he hoped. ' 
 Nashe's Christ's Teares, lf91 — "Oh, what a wonder it is to 
 see a ship under saile wiih her tackliiigs and her masts, 
 and her tops and her tip gallnnts, wilh her upper d cks 
 ami nelher decks, and so bedeckt, with her streamers, flags 
 and ensigne.s, and I know not what ; >ea, but a world oi 
 wonders it is to see a won an created in God's image, so 
 miscreale oft times and deformed with her French, her 
 Spanish, and her foolish fasl.ions, tliai he who made her 
 
EX'PLAN\TORV NOTES. 
 
 807 
 
 when lie looks upon her, sliall hanllv know her witli lier 
 tiliimei, lier fans, imil lier silken vizard, with a rult'e Oke a 
 miile i y fit, a ruffe like a raiahuif, wiih a J'e'tllirr in her 
 cap. like a flag in her top, lu leil (I tliiiike) vhii_h way the 
 wind vAll htuw. It is proverbially said, that far-feK htaiid 
 dear bought is fittest for ladies : as now a-daies what 
 growetb at home is base and homely ; and what evirit- one 
 eates ismeate for dogs; and wee must have breade Irom 
 another; and uee must have meale tVom Spaine, and sauce 
 out of Italy ; and if \>ef weare anything, it must be pure 
 Veniiian. Koman, or barberian : but the la-ihion of all 
 must he Fiencli." The ilmhaHi Royall, a sermon preacbed 
 at While hall, before the kings maieslie. at the nuptialls 
 of Lord Hay and his lady, Twelfth day, 1607 —KEED. 
 " And smell like Bucklersbiiry, in simple time" 
 
 Act HI Se. 3. 
 ISitrklershitry, in the time of Shakspeare, waschiefly in- 
 hulii <<1 by drnsgists, who sold all kinds of herbs, green as 
 v-ii as </ij/.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Let th' sky rain potatoes ; hall kissina-cowfits, and 
 snow erir.yoes; let there come a tempest uj pniiocution," 
 
 Act V. Sc. 5. 
 
 Potatoes, when they were first introduced in England 
 were snpposed to be strong provocatives. Kissing com/its 
 were sngai-plunis, perfumed to make the biealli sw. et 
 hringiies. like potatoes, were esteemed to be stimulalires' 
 But Shakspeare, probably, had the lollowiiig arlijhial 
 teinvest in his thoughts, when he wrote ihe abo\ e passage 
 Holinshed informs us that in the year 15S3, for the enterl 
 taiiiment of Prini e Alasco, was p-rfoimed " a \erie statelie 
 tragcdie, nainrd Dido, wht-rein'ihe queen's banket (with 
 y*,iieas's description of the destruction of Troie,) was lively 
 described in a maiclipane pattcrne ;" the tempest wherein 
 it haiUd small cunjects, rained rose-irater, <ind sniv< un 
 artificial kind ol snow, all strange, marvellous, and abun- 
 dant."— STEEVENS. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 ' Than shall present Me as an eunuch to him. — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 When the practise of castration wns adopted first, soleiy 
 to improve the voice, is uncertain. Tlie first regular opera 
 was performed at Florence, in 1600. Till about 16ri3, musical 
 dramas were only occasionally performed in the palaces 
 of princes, and consf-quently before that period eunuchs 
 could not abound. The first eunuch that was suffered to 
 sing in the Pope's chapel was in ItiOO. .So early, however, as 
 tt)04, eunuchs are mentioned hy Marston in Ihe Malcontent, 
 as excelling in singing. "Yes, I can s ng, fool, if you'll 
 bear the burden ; aiM lean play upon instruments scurvily, 
 as gentlenien do. O that I had been gelded ! I should then 
 have been a fat fool for a chamber, a stiueaking fool for a 
 tavern, and a private fool for all the ladies."— MA LONE. 
 " Like a parish top.'— A.v,l I. Sc. 3. 
 A large top was Jormerly kept in et'ery village to be 
 whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants might be kept 
 warm by exercise and out of mischiief when they could not 
 work.-STEEVENS. 
 
 "Mistress UTall's picture." — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 The real name of the woman here alluded to was Mary 
 Frith. The title she was coinoionly known by was .Mall 
 Culpurse. She was at once an hermaphrodite, a prostitute, 
 a bawd, ajhuily, a thief, a receiver of stolen goods. &c. 
 On the books of the Stationer's Company, August, 1010, is 
 entered, "A Booke called Ihe Madde Prancks of W' rry 
 Mail of the Bankside, with her walkes in Men's Apparel, 
 and to what purpose. \Vrilten by John Day " Midilleton 
 andDecker wrote a play called the Roaring Girl, of which 
 she is the heroine, and the frontispiece of this drama, 
 published in 1611, contains a full length portrait of her in 
 man's cloihes, smoking tobacco. There is a MS. in the 
 British Museinn, in which an account is given of Mall's 
 doing penance at St. Paul's Cross. Her extravagant con- 
 duct and shameless vices seera to have rendered her infa- 
 mously public. 
 
 " A most weak pia-mater." — Act L Sc. 5. 
 The »ifl! mater is the membrane which immediately covers 
 the substance of the brain.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Stand at your door like a sheriff's post." — Act I. Sc.5. 
 It was the custom for that officer to have large posts set 
 up at bis door as an indication of his oltice, tlie original of 
 which was. that the king's proclamations ami other public 
 acts might be alixed thereto.— WAIIBLUITO.V. 
 '^ Did you never see Ihe pictnre of we three?" — Act II. Sc. 3. 
 An allusion to an old print frequently pasted on country 
 ale house walls, representing two, but under which the 
 spectator reads, IIV three are asses.— ^IXLO'SE. 
 
 " Dost thon thi/ik, because thou art virtuous, there shall 
 he no 7Hure cakes and ale?" — .\ctll. Sc. 3. 
 
 It was the custom on saint's days and holidays, to make 
 crtjirei in honour of the d<y. The Purilans th(Might this a 
 superstition, and Maiia .says, that "Malvolio is sometimes a 
 kind of Puritan. "-LETHiiRLAND. 
 
 "Rub your chain with crums."—S.ct 11. Sc. 3. 
 
 Stewards in great families were formerly ilistingui.shpd by 
 wra'itig a golil chain. The usual mode of cleaning this or- 
 nament was fay rubbing it with bread crumbs. See VVch 
 filer's Duchess ofiUalfy, I6'J3. "Yea, and the chippings of 
 the buttery fly after him, to scouer his gold chain." — STEE- 
 VENS. 
 
 " Having come from a day bed." — Act II. Sc. 5. 
 It was usual in Shakspeare's time, for the rich to have 
 day-l)eds or couches. Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, has 
 dropped a stroke of satire on this lazy fashion : 
 " So was that chamber clad in rjuodly wize 
 
 And round ahoiit it many hrds were dight,, 
 As wldlome was Ihe antique wiirldes gu'ize, 
 Svmefor untimely ease, some for'd.'light," 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 * Wind up'my watch."— Act II. Sc.5. 
 Pocket watches were first brouuhl from Germany about 
 the year I'lSO, so that in Shakspeare's time they were very 
 uncommon When Guy Faux was taken, it was urged as 
 B circuinstf.nce of suspicion, that a watch was fouiia upon 
 him-JOHNSON. 
 
 " fellow slocki?t'!s."—.\ct II. Sc. 5. 
 Before the civil wars, yellow stockings were much worn. 
 We quote two passages to prove ihis : — 
 
 " sitlce she cannot 
 
 Wear her uwn linen yellow, yet she shoto* 
 
 Her love to't, and makes him meare vellvw hme." 
 
 IHE WORLD TOSS'b AT TENNIS. 
 And in the Honest Whore, by Decker : " What stockings 
 have yon put on this morning, madam? if they benotve/- 
 low, change them."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Clown with a tabor."— \cl III. Sc. 1. 
 
 Tarleton, the celebrated fool or clown of Ihe .sfage before 
 
 Shakspeare's time, is exhibited in a print pielixed to his 
 
 jests, 1611, witha (aiur. Perhaps, in imitation of him, the 
 
 subsequent dramatic clowns usually appeared with one. 
 
 aiAL NE. 
 
 "If thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss » 
 
 j Act IH. Sc. 2. 
 
 ' Alluding to a passage in (he speech of the attorney general 
 
 Coke, at the trial of Sir Waller Raleigh. "All that he did 
 
 was by thy insliaation, thou viper; lor I thou thte, thou 
 
 traytor, "—THEOBALD. 
 
 ' //-" dues smile his face into mure lines, than are in the 
 
 I }iew map, with the augmenlaiion of the Indies. " 
 
 Act III. Sc. 3. 
 < A clear al usion to a map engraved for Liiischoten'a 
 , Voyages, an Engli,sh translation of which was published in 
 1 1'9S. This map is mnltilineal in the exlienic, and is the 
 I first in which the Eastern Islands are included. 
 1 STEEVENS. 
 
 " Why dost tkuu smile so, andkiss thy hand so olt ?•' 
 
 Act, III, Sc, 4. 
 This fantastical custom is taken notice of ny linrnabt 
 Rae, in Faults, and Nothing but Faults, 160(i,— ' Anil these 
 Flowers of Courtesie, as they are full of aH'ectation, so are 
 they no less formal in their speeches, lull of fustian phra- 
 ses, many times delivering such ,sentences as do betray 
 and lay open their masters' ignorance ; and they are sufre- 
 guent with the ki.ss on the hand, that v,'or<l shall not passe 
 their mouthes. till they have clapt their fingers over their 
 lippes."— REED. 
 
 " He is a knight, duhb'd vithvnhatch'd rapier, and (W 
 carpet consideration."— Aci III. Sc, 4. 
 
 That is, he rs no soldier by profession, not a knight ban- 
 neret, dubbed on the field ot battle, but on carpel conside- 
 ration, at a feslii ity, or on sinne peaceable occasion, whett 
 knights receive llieir dignity kneeling; not in war, but on 
 a carpet. This is, I believe, the orig.nal of the contemp- 
 tuous term, « carpet knight, whc vas naturally held in 
 
 scorn by the men of war JOHNSON 
 
 " Are empty trunks, o'erjlourished f>y the devil.'' 
 
 Act III. Sc. 4. 
 In the time cf Shakspeare, trunks, which are now depo- 
 sited in lumber rooms, were part of ihe furniture in apart- 
 ments where company was n ci ived. They were richly or- 
 namented on the lop and sides wiih scrollwork and emble- 
 matical devices, and were elevated on feet.— STEEVENS. 
 " Why should I not, had I the heart to do it. 
 Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death. 
 Kill what Hove."— Act V. Sc. I. 
 This Egyptiin thief was Thyamis, who was a native of 
 Meinphis, and at the head of a band of robbers. Thengenes 
 and Chariclea falling into their hands, Thyamis fell despe- 
 rately in love witli the lady, and would have married her. 
 Soon after, a strong body of robbers coming down upon 
 Thvamis's forty, he was in such fears for his mistress, tnat 
 he had her shut in a cave with his treasures. It was cue- 
 tomary with Ihose barbarians, " when they despaired of 
 their own safety, first to make away with those whom they 
 held dear," and desired for companions in the next life 
 Thvainis. therefore, henetled round with his enemies', 
 raging with love, jealousv, and anger, went to ihe cave, 
 and calling aloud in the Egyptian tongue, as soon as he 
 h< ant him>:elf answered towards the cave's month by a 
 Grecian, making I o the person by the direction id'the voice 
 lie caught her by the hair witli Ins left hand, and (supposing 
 herto be Chariclea.) wih the right hand plunged his sword 
 into her breast. This story is taken from Heliodorus's 
 ^Ihiopics, of which a translation by Thomas Unde'dov/ne 
 appeared in 15S7,— THEOBALD. 
 
 " AJter a passy measure, or a pavin.— Act V. Sc. I. 
 The pavan, from pavoa peacocK, is a grave Modinaiestic 
 dance. The metliod of dancing it was by gentlemen dressed 
 with can and sword, by tllo^e ol Ihe long robe in their 
 govvns, by princ-siu Iheir mantles, and by'ladies in gowns 
 wilh long trains, the nitlion whereof, jn tln> dance re- 
 sembled that (sl'.Trr -.••>'■'• '« i-,:i— "UK J. HAWKINS. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 " Some run from brakes of vine."— Kd II. Sc I 
 The brake was an eTigine of torture : we fimi the following 
 passage in Holins-lied :— " The saiil Ha«kii gs was cast 
 into the Tower and al lei g'h brought to the brake, ral eJ 
 in derision tlie Duke of Exeter's daughter ;" that noble- 
 man having invented it. A part of ihis horrid engine still 
 remains in the Tower. It consists of a strong iron frame 
 about six feet long, with three tollers of wood wilhin it; 
 the iniddleone of these, which has iron teeth at each end, 
 is governed by two stops of iron, and was, probably, that 
 (lart of (he machine which suspended the powers of the 
 rest, when the unhappy sufferer was sufficiently strained 
 by the cords, &c. to begin confession.— STEEVE.NS. 
 " Greatest thing ah, tut f/oii."— Act II. Sc I. 
 Harrison, in his description of Britain, condemns the ex- 
 cess of apparel among liis counlryuien, and thus proceeds : 
 — " Neither can we be more justly burdened with any re- 
 proche than inordinate l)eha\iour in apparell, for which 
 most nations deride us ; as also for that we men doe seeme 
 to bestow most cost iipou our arses, sind much more iifton 
 all the rest of our bodies, as women do likewise upon their 
 heads and shoulders." Wide breeches were extremely fa- 
 shionable in Sliakspeare's days, as we may learu from this 
 stanza in an old Lallad: 
 
 " As novt, of late, in lesser thinges. 
 
 To furnyshe fortke theare pryde ; 
 yVilh woole, viithflaxe, with hare also, 
 
 To make theare bryches wit/e."— DOUCE. 
 
 -merely. Ihov art death's fool. 
 
 Por him thou labotires' by thy flight to shun. 
 
 And yet rn/is't toward him slill." — Act III. Sc. I. 
 
 In the Old Momtities the Joni of the piece, in order to 
 
 shew the inevitable approaches of death, is made to em- 
 
 |)loy all his stratagems to avoid him ; which, as the matter 
 
 13 ordered, bring the fool at every turn into his very jaws. 
 
 VVARBURTON. 
 And his use was to put a ducat in her rlack-dish." 
 
 Act III. Sec. 2. 
 The beggars, two or three centuries ago, used to pro- 
 claim their wants by a wooden di.sh with a moveable co- 
 ver, which they clacked, to shew that their vessel was 
 empty.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " And tie the beard."— Act TV. Sec. 2. 
 The Revival recommends Simpson's emendation, die the 
 beard, but the present reading may stand. Perhaps it was 
 usual to tie up the bi-ard before decollation. It .-.hould, 
 however, be remembeied, that it was usual to rfi'e beards. 
 So in the old comedy of Kam Alley, lOH : 
 
 " What colonr'd brardccmes next by the -jiindov 7 
 
 A black man's, 1 think. 
 
 I think, a red ; for that is most in fashion.'' 
 
 AikI in the ,Si ent Woman : " I liave fitted my divine and 
 canuni-t, uied their beards and a/^."— ST£E\ ENS. 
 " 1 ou know the course is cuni})! on.' — .Act IV. Sec. 2. 
 
 P. Maihiou, in his HeroykeLife and Oeplorable Death ot 
 Henry the Fouri he of France, says, that Ravaill;ic. in the 
 midst of his tortures, lifted up his head and shoi;k a suark 
 ot file from his heard " This unprofitable care (he a<lds) to 
 sa\e it, being noted, afforded matter to divrrs to praise tlie 
 cu.\lome in Germany. Switzerland, and divers other 
 places, ro share off, and then to burn all Ihi- hairr from all 
 parts of the bodies of those who are coiiviete.il for any no- 
 torious crimes." — REED. 
 
 " First, here's yottng master Rash ; he's in .for a com- 
 modity of brown paper and old ginger, nineacvre and Sf- 
 vriiirrn pounils." — Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 An allusion is here made to the abominable practices of 
 money-lenders in our poet 'sage, of which an iiccuunt is given 
 by N'Hshe in a pamphlet called Christ's Tears (i\rr Jerusa- 
 lem, I5U4. " He (a usurer) falls acquainteil with senliemen, 
 frequents ordinaries and dancing houses dny y, where 
 when snme of them at play have lost all llieiv money, he ii 
 very diligent at hand, on their chaines, bracelets, or jewels, 
 to lend them half the .value. Now this is the nature ot 
 young gentlemen, fhat where they have broke the ice. anii 
 borrowed once Ihey will come againe the second time ; and 
 that these young foxes know as well as the beggar knows 
 his dish. But at the second time of their cinmig, it i» 
 doubtful to say whether they shall have inonev or no Th? 
 worlil goes hard, and wee all are mortal ; let him make nny 
 assuiance before a judge, and they shall have some hundred 
 pound per consequence, in silks and velvets. The thirtJ 
 time if they come, they shall have baser commodities ; the 
 fourth time, lute strings and gray paper." — MALONE. 
 
 " Shew your shtci) biting face , and be hang'd an hour." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 1. 
 The poet evidently refers fo the ancient mode of pT»- 
 nishing by collistrigium, or the original pilloiy, made like 
 that part of the pillory at present, which receives the 
 neck, only it was placed horizonlally, so that Iheculpritt 
 hung suspended .in it by his chin, and the back of his head. 
 
 HENLEY. 
 " Stand like the fofeils in a barber's shop. 
 As mnch in mock as inark." — Act V. Sc. I. 
 Barbers' shops were at all times the r- sort of idle peo- 
 ple ; formerly with us the better sort of folks went to th« 
 barber's to be trimmed, who then practised tbf under parts 
 of surgery, so tliat he had occasion for nuniernus inslriv- 
 raents, which lay there ready for use ; and the idle per- 
 sons, wiih whom his shop was crowded, would be perpe- 
 tually laiidliiig and misusing them. To remeily which, 
 there was placed up against the wall a table of forfeitures, 
 aiiapled to eiery oft'ence of this sort; which it is not 
 lik'^iy woulil long preserve its authority.— WARBIJRTON. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 " At the bird-bolt."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 
 T\ie bird-bolt is a short thick arrow wihout a point, and 
 spreading at the extremity so much as to leave a dat sur- 
 face about the breadth of a shilling.— STEEV ENS. 
 
 " And he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder, 
 and called Adam." — Act I. Sc. 1. 
 
 Why should he be called Adam ? A quotation or two may 
 explain : In Law Tricks, or, Who Would have Thought It ? 
 we find this speech : " Adam Hell, a substantial outlaw, 
 and a passing good archer, yel no tobacconist." Adam 
 Bell, Clyme of the Cloughe, and Wyllyain of Cloudesle, 
 were, says Dr. Percy, three noted outlaws, whose .skill in 
 archery rendered them is famous iu the north of England, 
 as Robin Hood and his fellows were in the midland coun- 
 ties — STEEVE.VS and THEOBALD. 
 
 " If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat."— Act I. Sc. I. 
 
 In some counties of England, a cat was formerly closed 
 up with a quantity ofsoot iiia wooden 6a<^/e, (suchas fhat in 
 which shepherds cany their liquor) and was suspended on 
 a line. He who beat out the bottom as he ran under it, 
 ami was nimble enough to escape its contents, was re- 
 garded as the hero of this inhuman diversion. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Smoking a musty room." — Act. I. Sc. 3. 
 
 The neglect of cleanliness among our ancestors ren- 
 dered such precautions too often necessary. In a paper of 
 directions drawn by Sir John Pickering's steward relative 
 to Suti'olk Place, before Elizabeth's visits to it in Ib'ii, the 
 fifteenth article is, " The swetynyun- of the house in all 
 places by any meanes." Again, in Burton's Anatoinie of 
 Melaocliolie, 1632 : " The swiua** ()/\7«/i(ppr is in great re- 
 quast with us at Oxford, to sweeteti our chambers " 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Hundred merry tales.'-'— Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 In the London Chaunticleres. Iti'-O, this work, among 
 others, is cried for sale by a ballad man. — " I'he Seven 
 wi.se Men of Golham ; a Hundred Merry Tales; Scog 
 gin's Jests, Stc." Of this collection there are frequent en- 
 tries in the register of the Stationers' Companv. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Carving the fashion of a tieie doublet." — Act II Sc. 3. 
 
 " We are almost as fantastic as the EngliOi gentleman, 
 that isnaimeil naked, with apairc of slieares in hshand, 
 as not b<'ing rpsoUed after wh^l fashion to have his coat 
 out."— FAREWELL TO FOLLY. 1(317. 
 
 " Her hair shall be of what colour it please Ood." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 3. 
 
 The practice of dying the hair was so common a fashion 
 in Elizabeth's reign, as to be thought a tit subject of ani- 
 madversion from the pulpit. In a homilj; against gaudy ap- 
 parel. 1547, the preacher breakes out into the follnwing 
 invective : " Who can paynt her face, and curie her heere, 
 and ( hange it into an unnatural colour, but there n doth 
 work nprofe to lier Maker who made lier? as thoughe she 
 could make herselfe more comelye than Gi d liath ap- 
 pointed the measure of her beautie. What do these wo- 
 men, but go about to reforme that which God hath made ? 
 not knowinge that all things natura II isthe workt- of God; 
 and things dispiiysed and unnatural be the workes of the 
 dtvyl."— REED. 
 
 " Press me to death."— AiiUX. Sc. I. 
 
 The allusion is to an ancient punishment of onr law, 
 called peine forte et dure, which w as formerly inflicted on 
 those persons, who, being indicted, refused to plead, lu 
 consequence of their silence, they were iiressed to death by 
 a heavy weight laid on the stomach— MALONE. 
 " Or in the shape of two countries at once "-Ait III. Sc.2, 
 
 "For an Englishman's suit is like a traitor's bodie flint 
 hath been hanged, drawne, and quartered, and is set up in 
 several places ; his codpiece is in Denmarke the collor of 
 his dublet and the bfUy in France, the wing mid narrow 
 sleeve in Italy, the short waste hangs o'rr a Dutch boi- 
 cher's stall in Utrich, his huge sloppes sppak.i Spanisi;; 
 Polonia gives him the boote.s; and tliiis we mrcke eurie 
 nation for keeping one fashion, yet steale r'atches frcm 
 eurie one of tliem. to pecce out our pride, and are n9w 
 laughing-stocks to Ihem, because their cut so sciirvily be- 
 comes us "—SEVEN l>EADLIE SINNi^S OF LONDON, 
 160u. 
 
 " Have a care that your bills be not stolen * 
 Act HI. Sc. 3. 
 
 A bill is still carried by ihe watchmen at Lichfield It was 
 the aUweajion of Ihe English infantry, which, s;ivs Temple, 
 
 cuve the most gastly and deplorable wounds JOHNSON. 
 
 " Side-sleeves."— Act HI. Sc. 4. 
 
 " This time was used exceeding pr'de in garments, 
 gowns with dcepe and broad sleeves, comnionlv called poke 
 sleeves; the servants ware them as werl as their masters, 
 which might well have been i, ailed lh(- receptacles of the 
 devil, for what Ihey stole they hid in their sleeves, 
 whereof some hung downe to the feete, and at least to the 
 
rXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 800 
 
 knees, fu'' of cufs and jaffges, wliercupon were made these 
 verses (l)y Tlii). Hoccif ve) ; 
 
 " jV<i|/' halli 1,'iis laiidf little needf ofbronmes, 
 7',i sirefpe ovmy the filth f uitt itf the streete ; 
 Sen riilf sUei^fS i)f pennyless grontes 
 Wiie it u)> licke be it ilrie or vjeete." 
 • He wears a ket/ in his ear, and a lock hanging by it." 
 
 Art. V. Sc. I. 
 
 In Shakspeare's age, fashicnahle persons of tlie male 
 
 sex wore ear riii?s ; llicre was also a silly custom of wear 
 
 iag a single /wet of liair [iireposteronsly long, wljich was 
 
 called a love-lock. Fynes Morvson. in his account of Lord 
 Montjoy's dress, says. " Tliat his liairi- was ihiijne on (be 
 lieade, wlieie he wore il .-iliort, exiept a Ivcke vnder his 
 left (!flrr, which lie mmrished tlie lime of (he warrc, and 
 being woyen np. hid i( in his iiecke iiiiiler his ruffe." 
 When lie was not on service, he probiihly wore it in a 
 dilTerent fashion. The por(niit of Sir Edward Sackville. 
 Eail of Dorset, paiiKed by Vandyke, e\hibi(s this lock, 
 wi(h a large knotted riband at (tie end of it ; it hangs 
 under (he ear on (he lef( side, and repches as low as 
 where (he s(ar is now worn by the kuigh(s of (he gar(er. — 
 M ALONE. 
 
 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 " Your eyes are lode-sturs."— Act !. Sc. I. 
 This was a complimen( nut uiifrer|uen( among (he old 
 poets. The lode-slur is (he /endinr/ -.tr guiding star, that 
 is, the pvles^nr. The mHgne( is for (lie same reason called 
 the lode stone, either beiRiise it leads iron, or because 
 it guides the sailor. — Johnson. 
 
 " Oawds." Act I, Sc. I. 
 
 In th^ nonh, a gntud'.s a chihJ's p'aytning, and a baby- 
 house is called a gawdy house. 
 
 'Or to her aealh ; according to our lav>. " — 
 
 Act I. Sc. 1. 
 By a law of Solon's, parents had an absolute power of 
 life and death over (heir children. 
 
 "Robin Goodfellow.'—Kcin. Sc. I. 
 •Your grandaine's maids were wont to set a bowl 
 of milk for h-m. for his pains in grinding mal( and mus- 
 tard, and sweeping the house a' midt ight ; this white 
 bread and bread acid milk was his standing fee." — DIS- 
 COVERIE OF WirCHCllAFT, 15S4. 
 " P;/c*.''— Act n. Sc. I, 
 Tn the Fairy My(hology, Puck, or Hobgoblin, was the 
 trusty servant of Oberoii. and always employed to watch 
 or de(ect he intrigues of queen Mab. Blab has an amour 
 with Pigwiggen : Obernn being jealous, sends Puck to 
 catch them, and one of Mab's nymplu opposes him by 
 a spell. In Drnyton's Nymphiilia, we find a tlose re- 
 semblance (o much of the fair.v machinery employed by 
 Shakspeare in this play. — JOHNSON. 
 
 * In maiden meditation fancy free." — .4ct. II. Sc. 2. 
 Thus in Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment in Suffoike 
 and Norfolke, written by Churchyard Cnastity deprives 
 Cupid of his bow, and presents it to her majesty : — " and 
 bycause (hat (he queeiie had chosen the best life, she 
 gave (he queene Cupid's bow, to learne to shoote at 
 whome she pleased ; since none could wound her high- 
 neisse hart, it was mee(e (said Chas(itie) (lia( she should 
 do with Cupid's bowe and arrowes what she pleased." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 ' God shield us ! a lion among ladies is a most dreadful 
 thing."— Act. III. Sc. I. 
 There is an odd coincidence between what our au(hor 
 has here wi i((en for Bo(tom, and a leal occurrence a( (he 
 Scouish court, iu 1591.— Prince Henry, (he eldest son of 
 James I., was christened in August in that year. Wliile 
 the king and queen were t.t dinner, a triumphant chariot, 
 with several allegorical personages on it, was diawne ill 
 by " a black moore. This chariot should have been drawne 
 in by a lyun, hut because his presence might have brought 
 some feare tn the nearest, or (hat (he sight of the lighted 
 torches might have rommoved his lameness, it was (bought 
 meete (ha( ( e moore should supply (hat room." — A true 
 Account nl the most triumphal and loyal Accomplishment 
 of the Bnptism of (he most excellent righi high, and 
 mighty Prince. Henrv Frederick, 8cc. asit was solemnizeil- 
 tlie30(h of August. 1594. 8vo. 1()03.— MALONE. 
 
 " Of hind'ring knot-grass made."— Xct III. Sc. S- 
 It appears (hat knot grass was anciently suppo.sed to 
 prevent (he grow(h of any animal or ci ild. lieaumont 
 and Fletcher mention this property of it m (he Knight of 
 the Burning Pestle ; — " Should (hey put him in a straight 
 pair of gaskins, 'twere worse than knot grass; he would 
 never grow aiter it."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " T'lou painted 7nity pole." — Act III. Sc. 2. | 
 
 So in St abbe's Anptomie of Abuses, I5S3 : — "But their i 
 chiefest iewell thei hryng from (hence is Iheir 3/«i-po/e, [ 
 whiche thei hryng home with great veneration, as thus : 
 Thei havi- tuentie or fourtie yoke of oxen, everie oxe 
 hauying a sweete nosegaie of flowers placed on the tippes 
 of his hemes ; and these oxen drawe home this Maie-pole . 
 
 (this sdnckyng idol ra(her), which is couered all oner 
 wi(h flowers and heaibes, bounde rounde aboule with 
 s'rjnges, from (he top fo the bo((ome. and some tyms 
 painted v ilh variable colours." — STEEVENS. 
 
 " Two of the first, like coats in heraldry. 
 
 Due but to one and cro'cned with one crest." 
 
 T V ,j . *f* iri- Sc. 3. 
 
 In heraldry, every branch oi a family is called a house 
 and none bu( the >j< of (he first hon.se can bear the amj 
 pi the family without some distinction. Ttvo of the flrcJ 
 therefore, means two coats of the first /-0!w, which ans 
 properly due 6('< <o on«."_IHASON. *™ 
 
 " The rite of May."— Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 The rite of this month was once so universally observer? 
 that even authors thought their works would oblaina mor^ 
 favourable reception, if published on May day The foi 
 lowing is (he tide page (o a me(riral p'rformance'hv a 
 ouce celebra(ed poet, Thomas Churchyard :— = "J a 
 
 " Come bring in Maye with nie, 
 My Maye is fre:h and gre^ne ; 
 A si/hiecfs haste, an hutnble mind. 
 To seme a mayden queene. "v. 
 " A Discourse of Rebellion, drawne forthe for to warne 
 the wanton wi((es how (o keepe their heads on (heir 
 shoulders. Imprin(ed at London, in Fie(estree( hvWil 
 liam Griffith, Anno Domini 1570. The first of Maye " 
 
 ''r..r<.«....'-Activ.sc...'^^^^^^«- 
 
 The old rustic music of the tonas and key The folic 
 
 ''■"l ' M ' c^i'^&^f j^x-'i'"" •— " ^^''*''<^*^ 'tongs, Rtirall Mu- 
 S!c*e."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Dian's had, o'er Cupid's fiower."—Act IV. Sc. I. 
 
 Dian's bud is (he bud of the annus castus o>- chaste 
 tree. Thus in Maeer's Herball, " The vertue ofthisherbe 
 is, that he wy II keepe man and woman chaste." Cupid's 
 flofier is the viola tricolor, or love in idleness 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Good strings to your beards."— Act IV. Sc. 2. 
 
 As no false besird could be worn wi(linu( a ligature to 
 faslen it Jn, Bottom's caution must mean more than the 
 mere .security of his comrade's beards. The good strinns 
 he recommends, were probaJitv ornamental, and employed 
 to give an air of noveUy to the coun(enances of the per- 
 formers. Thus, in Measure for Measure, (where (he natu- 
 ral beard is spoken of,) the Duke, in(eii( on disfiguriiig the 
 head of Ragozine, says, " O, dea(h's a grea( disguiser ■ 
 and you may add fo it Shave (he head, and tie the beard.'- 
 
 ' To the best bride-bed itill ve, 
 
 Which by us shall blessed be." — ,\rt V. Sc. 2. 
 
 We learn from artiiles ordained by Henry VIII. forthe 
 regulation of^ his household, (hut (heceremonv of blessing 
 the bridal lied was thus observed at (he m'arriaae of a 
 princess: "All men a( her coming in (o bee voided, except 
 woemen, (ill s!iee bee brought to her bedd ; and the man 
 both, he si((ing in his bedd in his shir(e, with a gowne 
 cast about him. Then the bishoppe, with (he ckaplaines 
 to come in and bless the bedd ; then eveiie man (o avoide 
 without any drinke, save the (woe estates if they liste, 
 privilie." A similar ceremony w-is performed a( all mar- 
 riages in (hat age —STEEVENS, 
 
 « Harelip:'— Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 Tliis defect in children seems to have been so mncb 
 dreailed, that numerous were (he charms applied for its 
 prevention. The Ibllowiiig might be as ifficacious as any 
 of the rest: "If a woman wilh chyMehave her smocke 
 slyt at the neather ende or skyrt thereof, ftc. (he .same 
 rhylde (hat she then goeth wiihall, shall be safe from 
 having a cloven rr hare lippe " Thomas Lapton's Fourth 
 Book of Notable Things.-STEEVENS. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 " The dancing horse." — Act !. Sc. 2. 
 
 A horse (aught by one Bankes, tn play many singular 
 (ricks. Sir Walter Raleigh, in his Hislory of (he World, 
 says, " If Baiikes had lived in older limes, he would have 
 shamed all tlie enchanters in (he world,- for whosoever 
 was mos( famous amongst them could never master or in- 
 struct any beast as he did his horse." And Sir Kenelm 
 Digby obseives. " Thai his horse would restore a glove to 
 the due owner, after the m s er bad whispered the man's 
 name in hi^ ear ; wi uld t -ll (he jus( nnmher ■ f pence in 
 any piece :if silver coin newly showed him by his inas(er; 
 and even obey p:-e.sen(ly his command, in dischaigiiig him- 
 self of his exonments, whensoever he had bade him." 
 Among odier exjiloils of (his celebrated b' ast, it is >a d, 
 Uiat he went up to the top of St. Paur.s. H;s end and his 
 
 master's was (ragical ; Travelling in France, Bankes ex- 
 ci(rd the aiger o( the priests, and only escajied i(s effecls, 
 il! the mnnner following; — " Bankes came ii (n suspition 
 of niagirke, because of Ihe sdange feates wliich his horse 
 ftloidcco plaied at Orleance; where he. to redeem his 
 credit, promised fo manifest (o (he world (hat his horse 
 was no(hing lesse (l;an a decill. To this ei;ri, he com- 
 manded his horse to seeke out one in (he prea.sse of Ihe 
 people who had a crucifix in his hat ; which done, he bade 
 I'iin kneele down unto it : and not this olily, but also (o 
 ri.se np againe, and kisse it. And now, genileinen (quo(h 
 he), I Ihinke my horse hath acquit (ed both me and himstlfe; 
 and so his adveisarics reslKil sadslied; conceiving (as it 
 might seeme.) (hat the di^ell had no power lociine neare 
 Ihe crosse." In Italy, however (hej were less fortunate, 
 since at Home, to the disgrace of the age, of the country. 
 
810 
 
 EXPL kNATORY NOTES. 
 
 and of Immvinity, they were burnt by order of tt 5 Pope, 
 for maeiciaiis. 
 
 " The hi'bhy horse is forgot ''—Act Iff. Sc. 1. 
 
 In tlje celebralinn of May-day, besides llie sports now 
 used of liangiijg a pole viilh garlands, and dancing round 
 it, formt-rly a hoy was dressed up, reiirest-niing Maid 
 Marian; another like a friar; and another rode on a 
 hobby harse, with bells jingling; and painted streamers. 
 Alter the Reformation took place, and precisians multi- 
 plied, these lalter rites were looked upon to savour of 
 paganism, and .Maic .Marian, the triar, and the poor hobby- 
 horse, were turned out of the games.— THKOBALD. 
 " A woivan that is like a German c/ock."— Act III. Sc, I. 
 
 In a book called the Artificial Clockmaker, 1714, we find 
 tbe followirjg remarks: "Clock inakiii:: ivas supposed to 
 bavehaii its" beginning in Germany wilhin less tliau these 
 two hundred vears. It is very probable tirat our balance 
 clocks or watches, and some other automata, might have 
 had their beginning tliere." Liltle worth remaric is to be 
 found till towards tlic Ifith century, and then clock-work 
 was revived or wholly invented anew in Germany, as is 
 generally thonaht, because the ancient pieces are of Ger- 
 man woi-k. The mechanism of these clocks was extremely 
 complicated, and consequently they frequently wanted re- 
 pairing.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " whfre is the hush 
 
 That me must stiiid and play the murderer in .'" 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 
 How familiar the amusement of deer-shnoliixj once was 
 to ladies rif cpuility. m^y be known from a letter addressed 
 by Lord Wliartori to the earl t^f Shrewsbury . dated from 
 Alnewick, Aug. 14, Wn. " 1 besi( he yor lordesliipp to 
 tayke some sporte of my litell grminde there, and to com- 
 mand the same even as yor lordshippes owne. My lady 
 may shote with her cross how," &o. — STEEVENS. 
 " Hern, good my glass." — Act. IV. Sc. I. 
 
 To understanil how the princess h^is her glass so ready at 
 band m a common conversation, it must he rcmembereil, 
 that in those .lays it was the fashion anmng the French 
 ladies to wear alovkiiig glass, as Bayle coarsely represents 
 it, on Ih' ir brilirs ; that is, to have a small mirror set in 
 gold hanging ai their girdle, by wliich they occasionally 
 viewed their faces, or adjusted tlie.r hair — JOHNSON. 
 
 ' But, sir, I assure ye, it tras a buck of the first head, 
 'twas a pricket." — Act IV. Sc. 2. 
 
 In the Reluiii f. om Parnassus, 101)6, we find the. follow- 
 ing account of the different aiipellations of deer, at their 
 different age.s :— " I caused the keeper to sever the rascal 
 deer from the bucks of the first head. Now. sir, a buck 
 is, the first ytar, a fawn; the second year, a pricket; 
 the third year, a sorrell ; the fourth year, a soar ; the 
 fi/ih year, a buck of the first head; the sixth year, a 
 compleate buck. Likewise your. An/I is, the first year, a 
 calf; the second year, a brochel ; the third year, a 
 spade ; the fourth year, a stag; the sixth year, a hurt. 
 .A roebuck is. the first year, a kid ; the secondyear, a 
 gird; the third year, a hemuse ; and these are your 
 special beasts for the chase."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " He comes in like a perjure " — Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 Perjury was punished by affixing a paper to the breast, 
 expressing the crime. Holmshed says ot Wolsey, " he so 
 punished a pernirie with open punishment, and open 
 paper iri'arinfi that in his time it was less used." Again, 
 in Leicester's Comnionwealth : " The gentlemen were all 
 taken and cast into prison, and afterwards were sent down 
 to Ludlow, there to wear papers of perjury." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 " Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess." 
 
 Act V. Sc.a 
 
 A Mask of Muscovites was no uncommon recreation al 
 ciurt, long before Shakspeaie's time. In the first year 
 of king Henry Vlll. at a banquet made for tlie foi'eigu 
 ambassadors in the parliament chamber at Wesi minster : — 
 ' came the lorde Henry, earlc of Wiltshire, and the lorde 
 Fitzwater, in twoo long gounes of yelbw satin traversed 
 with white satin, and ni every ben of white was abend 
 of crimson satin, aficr the fasi ion of Kussia or Uuslande, 
 with (urred hattes of grey on their hides, eitler of tliera 
 havyng an hatchet in their handes, nnd bnotes with pykes 
 turned up,» Hall's Henry VUI— KIISON 
 
 " Better wits have vjurn plain statute caps." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 3. 
 
 Woollen caps were enjoined by act of parliament, in 
 the year 1571, the Ifjlh of queen Elizabeth. " Besides the 
 bills passed into acts this parliament, there was one which 
 I judge not amiss to be taken notice of; it concerned 
 the queen's care for employment for her poor sorts of 
 subjects. It was for continuance of making and wearing 
 woollen caps, in behalfe of the trade of cappers; provid- 
 ing that all above the age of six yeares, (excrpt the 
 nol)ility and some others,) sliould, on sal'bath days and 
 holy days, wear caps of wool, knit, thicked, and drest 
 in England, upon penaltv of ten groats." — STRYPK'S 
 ANNALS OF ELIZABETH. 
 
 " Lord have mercy on us." — Act V. ,Sc. 2. 
 
 This was the inscription pot on the doors of houses 
 infected with the plague. So ni Sir Thomas Overbury's 
 Characters, \6'i2: — Lvril hare iuercy on us miy well stand 
 over their d'ors, for debt is a most dangerous city pesti- 
 letice.— JOHNSON. 
 
 " And if these four u'orthii-s in their first shnui thrive, 
 These four will change habits, and present the other five." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 Shakspeare here alludes to the shifts to which Ihe actors 
 were reduced in the old theatres, one nersini often per- 
 forming two or three parts. — MALONE. 
 
 " Some Dick.— Act V. Sc. 2. 
 Out roaring Dick was a celebrated singer, who with 
 AVilliam Wimbars, is said by Henry Chettle, in his Kind 
 Harts Dreame, to have got twenty shillincs a day by 
 singing at Braiutree fair, in Essex.— MALONE. 
 
 " Pageant of the nine worthies."— Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 Among the Harleian MSS. we find the fullowing: "The 
 order of a Sho^e intended to be made Aug. I, 1621. 
 First, Two woodmen, &c. St. George figlitiiig with the 
 Dragon. The nine Worthies in complete armor with 
 crouncs of gould on their heads, evi-ry one having his 
 esquires to beare before him his sliield and penon of 
 armes, dressed according as these lords were accustomed 
 to be. 3 Assaralits. 3 Infidels. 3 Christians. After them, 
 a Fame, to declare the rare virtues and noble deedes of 
 the 9 worthye women— STEEVENS. 
 
 " It was enjoined in Rome for want of lineti." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 A Spaniard fell in a duel. As he lay exiiiring, a friend 
 approached, and offered his services. The dying man made 
 but one request, which was, not to sul!>r his body to be 
 stript, but to burv hint in the habit he had on. The friend 
 promised compliance, the Spaniard expired in peace.; bat 
 curiosity prevailed over good faith : the bodv was stript, 
 and found to be without a sAir/.-WARBUilTON. 
 
 3IERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 * Tie lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice." 
 
 Act I. Sc. 3. 
 •It is almost incredyhle what gaine the Venetians re- 
 ceive by the usury of the Jewes, both privately and in 
 common. For in everie cilie the Jewes kepe open shops 
 of usurie, taking gaiges of ordiiiarie for xv in the hun- 
 dred by the yere; and if at the yere's end the gaige be 
 not redeemed, it is forleite, or at the least doocn away 
 to a greai disidvaalage, by reason whereof the Jewes are 
 out of measure weai'hie ih those parts." 
 
 THviMASS HISTORY OF ITALY, li36I. 
 
 * But let us tuake incision for your love. 
 
 To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine." 
 
 Act 11. Sc. 1. 
 
 Red blood has been considered a proof of courage. 
 Bartholmnew Glanville says, " Rer-d clothes ben lavd upon 
 deed men, in renn-mbrauce of their hurilyuess and bold 
 ness, whyle Ih' y were in thevr blouihle." On which, his 
 <j.omnientaior. Batman, remarks; — "It appeareth in the 
 time of the Saxons, that the manner over their <lead was 
 a red cUi»{\\, as we now use blacke. The reil ui valiauncie, 
 »nd that was oyi-r kings, lords, knights and valjant soul- 
 diours "—DOUCE. 
 
 « Nay more ; while grace is saying, noodmine eyes. 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, Amen." 
 
 Act M. Sc. 2. 
 
 it should be remembered, that in .Shikspeare's lime, they 
 wore ihi-ir hals on during the lime of dinner.— .UALONE. 
 " My nose fell a bleeding on Black- Monday lust." 
 
 Acl II. Sc. f>. 
 
 " Black Monday is Easter Monday, and was sn called 
 on this occasion. In the 34th of Jidward III. {|3C0; the 
 
 14th of April, and the morrow after Faster day, king Ed- 
 ward, with his host, lay before the city of Paris; which 
 day was full dirk of mist and hail, and so bitter cold, 
 that many men riled on their horses' hacks with the cold 
 ^V'herefiire, unto this day, it hath been called the Blacke 
 Monday."— STOWK. 
 
 " It was my turquoise."— Act III. Sc. I. 
 
 A turquoise is a precious stime found in the veins of the 
 mountains on the confines of Persia 'to the east, siibject 
 to the Tartars. It was said of this stone, that it faded 
 or brightened in its colour, as the health of the wearer 
 increased or grew less. SoEdwanl Fenlon, in his Secret 
 Wonders of Nature, 151)9, says, " The Turkey.-: doth move 
 when there is any perill prepared to him that weareth it." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Snaky golden locks."— Act III. Sc. 2. 
 
 Periwigs were universally worn in Sliakspeare's age. 
 This will be best shewn by an extract fnun an old pam- 
 phlet, entitled The Honestie ot this Age, by liarnabe 
 Riche ; Uil.i. — " My lady hohleth on her way, perhaps to 
 the tire maker's .shop, wlieie she shakelh her crownes to 
 bestow upon some new fashioned attire, upon such arti- 
 ficial detbriiied periwigs, that they were lifter to furnish 
 a theatre, or for her that in a stage play sliould repre- 
 sent some hag of hell, than to be use i by a Christian 
 woman. Thee aflire m:ikers. within the c forlie yeares, 
 were not knnwne by that name : and but now very lately 
 they kepi (heir lowsie comiiiodily of periwiirs, and their 
 monstrnns attires closed in boxes; and those women 
 th:it used to weare them would nol buy them but in .secret. 
 Rut now they are not ashamed to se't them lorlh upon 
 their stalls, such monstrous m:ip powles of haire, so pro- 
 portioned and deformed, that but wiibiii these twenty 
 
EXPLANATOKY NOTES. 
 
 or (hirly yrares wouM have drawiie tlie passers by to 
 stand and gaze, and to wonder at tlicm — MALONE. 
 " Like ciit/rr's poelri/ "—Act V Sc 1. 
 Knives wcie formerly inscribed, by means cf acqna 
 /or/is, with sliort sentences iu rhyme. In Decker's Sati- 
 
 romastlx, we have the following allusion to this custom: 
 — " You shall swear by Phoebus, who is your poet's good 
 lord and n. aster, that hereafter you will not hire Horace 
 to give you pot-sies for rings, or handkerchiefs, o' knives, 
 which J on understand uol."— KEED 
 
 AS YOU LIRE IT. 
 
 -" III the forest Arden.''—\e{ I Sc. I. 
 
 Ardeiiiie is a forest of considerable exieiii in French 
 Flanders, lying near the Meuse, and between Charlemont 
 and Kocr.iy.— MALONE. 
 
 " Is hut a quintain, a mere lif'less block" — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 The uuiiitain was a stake driven into a field, upon which 
 were hung a shield and other trophies of war. at which 
 they shot, d.irled, or rode, with a lance. When the tro- 
 phies ami shield were ali thrown down, the quintain re- 
 mained -GUTHRIE. 
 
 " Which, like the load, iinly and vencntovs. 
 Wears j/ft a precious jeivcl in his head." — Act II. Sc. 1. 
 " There is found in tlie hendes of old and great toades, 
 a stone, which they call borax or stelon : it is most com- 
 monly .'bund in the head of a hee toade, of power to re- 
 pulse poysons, and that it i."! a most soveraigiie medicine 
 ibr the stone. "—WONDERS OK N.ATURE, 1509. 
 
 " You shall know whether the tnde stone be the right 
 and perfect stone or not. Hold the stone before a toad, 
 so thai he may see it ; and if it be a ryght and true stone, 
 the tode will leape towarde it, ami make as though he 
 would snatch it. He envielb so much that man should 
 have that stone."— LUf TON'S NOTABLE THINGS. 
 " To the which place a poor sequestered stag 
 
 Did come to languish — 
 
 — and the iiy round fears, 
 Coifrs'd one another doirn his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase." — .Act II. Sc. 1. 
 Tlie stag is said to possess a very large secretion of tears. 
 " \\ hen the hart isarered, he fleethe to a river or poiide, 
 and roreth, cryeth. and v>erprth when he is taken." — 
 "When the hart is sick, andliath eaten many serpents for 
 his recoverie, he is brought into so great a heat that he 
 hasteth to the water, and there covereth his body unto 
 the very eares and eyes, at which time distilleth mantj 
 tearcs, from which the bezoar atone is engendered." — 
 
 B.ATEMAN, and DOUCE. 
 ' I was never so berhymed since Pythar/oras' lime, that 
 I was an Irish rat." — Act III. Sc. ?. 
 Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the 
 Kjihagorean doctrine, which teaches that souls transmi- 
 grate from one animal to another, and relates that in his 
 time she was aa Irish rat. and, by some metrical charm, 
 was rhymed to death. The powrr of killing rats with 
 rhymes, Donne mentions in his Satires, and Temple in 
 his Treatises. Dr. Grey produces a like passage from Ran- 
 dolph : — 
 
 * tny poets 
 
 Shall with a satire, steeped in gdl and vine yar. 
 Rhyme them to death us they do rats in Ireland." 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 " Qaranantua's mo'lr" — .\ct HI. Sc. 2. 
 Garagantua is the yiant of Rabelais JOHNSON. 
 
 " But I answer you rifiht painted cloth." — Actli'I. Sc S. 
 
 This alliiiies to the fashion in eld taptstiy hangincs, of 
 motros and moral sentences from the mouths li the tif,ure3 
 worked or painted in ihem— THEOBALD. 
 
 " Then your hose should be ungarter'd.'— Act HI. Sc 2. 
 
 Inattention to personf,! appearances was one of the 
 established symptoms of being in love. So in the Fair 
 Maid of the Exchange by Hey wood, 16W :— « Shall I that 
 have iesled at love's sighs, now raise whirlwinds ? Shall 1, 
 that have fioutrd ah tiie's once a quarter now practice aA 
 me's every minute ? Shall 1 drjy hatbands, anil tread 
 garters and shoe strings under my feet ? Shall I fall to 
 "falling bands, and be a ruflian no loncer' I must : I am 
 now Cupid's liegeman, and have read all these informations 
 in the book of his statutes."— MALONE. 
 
 " Something browner than Judas's." — Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 Judas was ciMistnntly re- prise:iled in idd Pointings or 
 tapestry, with red hair and heard. So in the In.saliate 
 Counle<s, ItJKS: — 'I ever fhcng.ht by bis red beard he 
 would prove a Judas." — STEEVENS. 
 " The common executioner 
 
 Falls nut the axe vpon the humbled neck." 
 
 Act III. Sc. 5. 
 There is reason to believe, that during E izabeth's reign 
 the punishment of decapitation was occasioniiUv iiiiiirttd 
 by an instrument resembling th» French guillitiiie. The 
 Earl of Morton, when condemned as an accomplice in the 
 murder of Darnley, seems to have suliered in this way. 
 The criminal's head and neck being laid en n block, the 
 axe, which was suspended over him, was released from the 
 cord which confined it, by the executioner, ami fell witii 
 sutlicient force to separate the head from the bodv. 
 
 " Iwillweep for nothing, like Diana In the fountain." 
 
 At't IV. Se. 1. 
 An allusion to the Cross in Cheapside : the religious 
 iirvges, with which it was ornaiiipntcd, being defaced, (as 
 we learn from Stow) in l5lXi: — "' Tin re was then set up a 
 curious wrought tabernacle of gray marble, and in ihe 
 same an alabaster imaee of Diana, and water conveyed 
 from the Tliames, prilling from her naked breast " 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 " Good wine needs no bush." — .Act V. .Sc. 4. 
 
 It appears formerly to have b'-en the custom to hanpi ^ 
 
 tuft of ivy at the door of a vintner: jry was rather usftS 
 
 than any i;t erp'ant, because it had relation to Bacchus. 
 
 The subjoined j)assages prove the custom. 
 
 " 'Tis like the try bush unto a tavern " 
 
 Rival Friends, KiS. 
 " Green ivy-bushes at the vintners' doores." 
 
 Summer's Last Will and Teslnment. IfiflO. 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 " Tib's rush for Tom's fiire'ingtr."—\c\\l. Sc. 2. 
 
 In France there was furmcrlv a custom of placing a m.sh 
 ring on the lady's hnger, when a marriage w.is finally 
 agreed upon. But in England, ru>.h rings were employed 
 to abuse the simplicity of youiis- girls, by deluding them 
 into a state of coi.cabinaee with a pretended marriage. 
 Richard Pnore, Bisliop of Salisbury, in his Constitutions, 
 1217. forbids the imtting of r/i*/; ri/);;.';, or any of the like 
 matters, on women's lingers, in order to the debauching 
 them more readily, and be insinuates, as a reason for the 
 prohibition, that there were some people weak enough 
 to believe, that what was thus done in jest, was a real mar- 
 riage. 
 
 " Like him that leaped into the custard. — Act II. Sc. 5. 
 
 It was a foolery practised at city entertainments, whilst 
 the jester or zany was in vogue, fcr him to .jump into a 
 large deep custard, prepared for the purpose. 
 
 THEOBALD. 
 •• Palmers."— .\ctUl. Sc. .5. 
 
 Pilgrims that visited holy places, so called from a staff, 
 or housh of palm, they were w out to carry, especially such 
 E3 had visited Jerusalem. " A pilgrim and a palmer dif- 
 fered thus : a pilgrim had some dwelling, the palmer, none ; 
 the pi grim travelled to some certain place, the palmer 
 to all, not one in particular; ihe pilgrim might bear his 
 own charges, the palmer must profess wilful poverty ; the 
 pilgrim might relinquish his vocatroa, the valmer must 
 be constiiiit till he won (h'' palm, that is, victory over his 
 ghostly enemies, and life b d 
 
 BLOUNT'S GSOGRAPHY. 
 
 " Juhn Drum's entertainment."— >ict HI. Sc. 6. 
 
 Ilolinsbeil. in his History of Ireland, speaking of Patrick 
 
 Sarseli'-ld, a nmynr of Dublin, and of his extravagant l:os- 
 
 pilality. says, that "no guest had ever a cold orforbiddiig 
 
 ooke from any part o! his family: sn that his porter, cr 
 any other officer, durst not fur biith his eares, give Ihe 
 simplest man thai lesurled lo his house, Tom Drum his 
 e7ltertnynrvieut , which is to hate a man in In/ Ihe hea<ie, 
 and thrust him out by both the s/ioiaV/os. "-THLOB-ALD. 
 
 '• The sheriff 's fool."— Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 We are not to suiipose that this w as a fool, kept by the 
 sheriff for his diversion. The custody of all idiots pos- 
 ses.sed of land, belonged to the king, who was entitled to 
 their income, but was obliged to provide Ihem necessaries. 
 A\ hen the property was large, ibis, prerogalive w.ts ge 
 uerally given to some favourite, or other person, who mad*: 
 suit for and liad interest enongh to obtain it, which \\as 
 called begging a fool. But where the land va* of small 
 value, the natural was supported out of the proliis, by lbs 
 sheriff, who arconnteil for them to the crown — As for those 
 unhappy creatures, who had neither possessions nor reia- 
 lions. they seem to have been considered as a species oi 
 properly, being said or given, with as liltle ceremony, 
 treated as capriciously, and very often, it is to be feared, 
 left to perish as miserably, as dogs or cats. — KITSON. 
 '" Villainous saffron.'' — Act IV. Sc. 5. 
 
 Tills alludes to a fantastic fashion, of using yellow stai^'/i 
 for bands and rurts. Yellow star h was invented by one 
 Turner, a lire-woman, a court bawd, and in all respects o/ 
 so infamous a chaiacier, that her invention desmc' /he 
 name of " vil/ninons saffron." This woman was allcr- 
 wards among the miscreants concerned in the inunler of 
 Sir Thomas Overbc.ry, for which she was hanged at Tybtirh, 
 and would die in a yellow ruff of her own invention ; which 
 made yellow starch so oiliotis, that it immediately went out 
 of fashion." Slacii was used of vaiioiis colours, and ij 
 declaimeil against most bitterly by Stnbbes iu bis Anaioinie 
 of .^bnse.s. 
 
 „ . * Plutu* himself , 
 
 ThattHotet tie Unci and wultiplying medicine." 
 
 .\ct\'.Sc.Z. 
 
 In the reign of Henry IV. n law was made lo forbid 
 ihericfforth u> mnliipiy ^(M. or use any cTitl'l cf mtntipli- 
 cotion,ct which law, Bo\le. when be was wai in with the 
 hope of transmutalinn. procured a repeal— JCHN.-iON. 
 ' Fxorcist."— Act V. Sc 3. 
 
 By an exorcist we now mean one w ho can lay spirila. 
 
t5I« 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 but in Shakspeare's ajre, exorcist implied a person who 
 «ouIil rthe spirits The diHerence between 2t conjuror, a 
 witch, ami an itichanter. is as follows :—" Tlie conjuror 
 seemeth by praiers and invocations of God's pmverful 
 names tocoinpell the devil! to say or doe what he com- 
 maiideth him. The witch dealeth r il!>pr In h 1: lend ie h;i(I 
 voluntary conference or agreement l>e(«v<-n him < r her 
 
 and the devill or familiar, to have his or her turne serrerf, 
 in lieu or stead of blood or other Rift unto him ; especially 
 of his or her soule. 4nilbolh these differ from inchnuters 
 or so^C'Ters, because the fmmer two have personal con- 
 fi-reiicp with the devill, and the oilier medilles but with 
 m"dicines and ceremonial formt-s of word< called charmrs. 
 without appariiim "— MINSHEl 'S DICT. 1017. 
 
 TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 
 •• Take them to the butle,. -Induction 
 " The top of the profession were then mere players, not 
 eetitlemen of the slage; they were led into the hutlert/ by 
 rhe steward: not placed at the lord's table, or the lady's 
 «ollc(te"-ROVVE. 
 
 " Marian Racket, the fat ale-wife of Winrot." 
 
 Induction. 
 
 Wilnerolte is a village in Warwickshire, near Strafford, 
 
 with which ShaksiK-are was well acquainted. The hnuse 
 
 kept bv our penial hostess still remains, but is at present a 
 
 mill.— War ro.v. 
 
 " De she as foul as was Florenlius' love."—\ct I. So. 2 
 
 " A Florentine young jfentleman was so deceived by the 
 lustre and orientness of her jewels, pearles, rings, lawns, 
 Bcarfes. laces, gold, spangles, and oilier devices, ihat he 
 was ravished overnight, and w as mad i ill the marriage was 
 Bolemnized. But next morning by lieht viewing her before 
 she was gorgeously trimmed up, she was such a leane, 
 yellow, riveled, deformed creature, that he never lay with 
 tier, nor lived with her afterwards; and would not say that 
 he had married himself to a stinking house of office, painted 
 over, and set out wilh fine garments ; and .so for grief con 
 sumedaway in melancholy and at last poysoned himself." 
 Gomesius lib. III. de Sal. Gen. cap. 2-2.— FARMER. 
 '* And for your love to her, tecul apes in hell." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 1 . 
 
 To lead Apes, was anciently, as at present, one of the 
 beanvard's employments, who" often carries one of those 
 animals about wiln his bear; but it dues not appear how 
 this phrase came lo be applied to old maids. Tliere is a 
 similar pasvage in Much Ado about Nothing. " Therefore, 
 (says Beatrice) I will even take sixpence in earnest of the 
 bearu-ard, and lead nis apes in hell."— 3I.\L0NE. 
 
 " This small packet of Greek and Latin book':." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 A strange present from a lover! It might be thought so 
 now, but in Elizabeth's time the young ladies of quality 
 were usually instructed in the learned languages, if any 
 attention was paid to their minds at all. Lady Jane Grey 
 and her sisters. Queen Elizabeth, &c. are trite instances. 
 
 PERCY. 
 " Counterpoints."— Pici II. Sc. I. 
 
 Counterpoints, or, as we now say. Cminterpirnes, were 
 inancient times extremely costly. In Wat Tyler's rebel 
 lion, Stowe informs us, when the insurgents broke into 
 the wardrobe in the Savoy, they destroyed a coverlet worth 
 a thousand marks — M.VLONE. 
 
 " Pewter."— \ct II. Sc. 1. 
 
 We may suppose Ihat pevjter was. even in the reign of 
 Elizabfth, too costly to be used in common. It appears 
 from the regulations and establishment of the household 
 of Henry Aigernon Percy, the tilth Earl of Nonhumber- 
 land; that vessels of pewter were hired by the year. This 
 household book was begun in the year 15r2.— STEEVENS. 
 •' Quaffed off the niuscadel"—Xct III. Sc 2. 
 
 The fashion of introducing a howl of wine at church at 
 a wedding, lo be drunk by the bride and bridi-gronm and 
 persons present, was very anciently a co'isfant ceremony ; 
 □or was it abolished in the poet's time. We find ii practised 
 
 at the magnificent marriage of Queen M»ry and Philip, 
 in Winchester Cathedral, 1554. "The trumpets sounded, 
 and they both returned to their traverse.s in the quire, and 
 there remayued untill masse 'vas done, at which typie, 
 wi/ne and ■<:opes were hallowed and delyvered to then; 
 both."— T. WARTON. 
 
 " An old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick't in''! 
 for a feather."— Act III. Sc 2. 
 Fnr«cv appears to have been some ornament worn for- 
 merly in the hat. So, Peacham, in his Worth of a Penny. 
 describing "an indigent and discontented snidat," .says, " he 
 walks with his arms folded, his belt without a sword or 
 rapier, that perhaps being somewhere iii trouble: a hat 
 w ithout a band, hanging over his eyes, only ii bears a 
 weatherbeaten/irr;icy for fashion sake."— MALONE. 
 
 "Their blue coats brush'd."— Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 Bine was commonly worn by .servants at the time. .So 
 in Dicker's Beilman; "The other act thei. parts in blew 
 coair'S, as they were their se^iinq men, though indeed they 
 be a'l fellows";" and in The Curtain Drawer of the World : 
 " Not a serriiiri man dare aiipeare in a lilero coat, not 
 because it is the livery of charity, but I'st he should be 
 thought a retainer to their eueiny."— REED. 
 " The carpet's laid."— Act IV. Sc. I. 
 In our anlhor's time, it v,ns customary to cover rabies 
 w ith carpets. Floors were commonly strewed w if h rusies. 
 
 M.^LtTrfE. 
 " At/, but the mustard is too hot, a lillh." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 3 
 This is agreeable to the doctrine of th3 times. In The 
 Glass ef Humours, it is said: " But note here, (hat the 
 first diet is not only in avoiding superfluity of meat, and 
 surfeits of diinks, but also in eschewing such as are most 
 obnoxious, and least agreeable with our ha(ipy temperate 
 state; as for a cholerick man to abstain from all salt, 
 scorched, dry meats, from miistird, and such like things 
 as will afgra^ate his malignant humours."— REED. 
 " Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 Formerly women's gowns were made by men. So in Tht 
 Epistle to the La lies, prclixed to Eupliues and his England, 
 bv John Lyiy. I.5S0 ; " If a lailur make i/our f/own too 
 little, you cover his fault with a bread stomacher; if too 
 great, with a number of pleights ; if too short, w ith a fair 
 guard; if too long, with a false gathering,"— MALONE. 
 " Custard-coffin."- Aci IV. Sc. ."5. 
 
 A coffin was the ancient cnlinarv term for t'lc raised crust 
 of a pie or cH«/rtrr/.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Censer."— .\.(t IV. Sc.3. 
 
 We learn from an old print, that bese censers resembled 
 in shape our modern bnisieres. They had pierced convex 
 covers, and stood on feet. They not only served to sweeten 
 a barber's shop, but to keep his water warm, and dry his 
 clothes on.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " My banquet."— ActV. Sc. 2 
 
 Abanqiiet, or «?i afterpast, was a slight refection, like 
 our modern desert, consisting of cakes, sweetmeats, and 
 fruit.— STEEVENS. 
 
 WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 " Happy man be his dole." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 Tlie alms immemorially given to the po ir by the arch- 
 bishops of Canterbury, is still called the rfo/(?— NICHOLS. 
 " Lower messes." — Act I. Sc.2. 
 Formerly, at the tables of the great, a large salt cellar 
 was placed in the middle, the noble guests sat above it ; 
 the retainers and persons of low rank, below it. At the 
 upper end of the board, the viands were delicate and costly; 
 •t the lower, plain and substantial. Wine wasdrank above 
 the Ka!t ; beer only, below it An allusion is made to this 
 custom m Tiie Honest Whore, by Decker, lliM. ' Plague 
 him, set him beneath tlie salt, Hi.d let him not touch a bit 
 till every one has had his full cut. 
 
 " Still viryinalling. — Act I. So. 2. 
 A »'tr<)r!«nr/ is a very small kind of spinet. Queen Eliz 
 obeth's 'virainiil book is st 11 in being, and many of the 
 iB3sons in it have proved so ditlicult, as tn hj;llie our most 
 expert players on the harpsichord —STF.KVENS 
 " Like his medal."— Act I. Sc. 2. 
 It should be remembered, that it was cuslomary for^en- 
 tfemen, in our author's age. to wenr jewels appended to a 
 ribbon round the neck. So in Hiuiour in Perieclion, or 
 a Treatise in Commend itiiii ofHenrie. F.arl ofOxenforde, 
 Heurie, Earl of .loulliainipton, 8cc. by Gervais Nashham, 
 l(i'24 ; " He liiith hinni ahiiut the neck of his noble kins- 
 man, Sir Horace Vere, like a rich jfwel." Th • knights 
 of the E-arier wore the George, in this inauner till the 
 lime of Charles I. —MALONE. 
 
 ' Thfre may be in the cup, 
 
 A .<c/'i,/''r steep d, anil one may drink."— fici II. Sc 1. 
 That spiders were thought venomous appears by the 
 
 evidence of a person who was examined in Sir Tliomai 
 Overbury's alfnir. " TheConntesse wished me to get the 
 .•strongest poy^on I could . accordi giv. I bought seven great 
 spiders, and canlharides."— HENDERSON. 
 
 " A hoy, or a child."— Act III. Sc 3. 
 
 In some of our inland counties, a .female infant, in 
 contradistinction to a male one. is still termed among the 
 peasantry, a cAi/rf— STEEVENS. 
 
 " With trol my dames."— Act IV. Sc 2. 
 
 In Dr. Jones's old treatise on Uuckstone Brr/hes. he says, 
 " (lieladves, gentle women, wvves, ninydes. if the wefllher 
 be not agreeable, may have in ihe endenfa benclie, eUveu 
 holes made, intoo the which to troule (Uimmits. either wy- 
 nlent or solte. afier their own discretion: the pastime 
 troule in madnme is termed."— FARMER. 
 " Fading.'^."— Act IV. Sc 3. 
 
 A rural Irish dance. This dance is still practised on re- 
 joicing occasions in many parts of Ireland A king and 
 queen are chosen from amongst the young persons who 
 dance best ; the queen earn, s ■ garland, composed of two 
 hoops placed at rght ang es, and fastened to a handle; 
 the hoops are covered w ith liowers and ribbons. Fiequeiit- 
 ly, in Ihe con se i f the daiu e. the king and queen lift up 
 their jiiined hands as liigh as they can, sue still linlding the 
 garland in Ihe other. The mo^t remote coup e from the 
 king and qurrii first pass under: a I the rest i.f the line, 
 linked toKfiher, follow in succession; when the last has 
 passed, the king and qmen suddenly face ab;iut and front 
 their cnnipanii'iis: this is nfie < repeated in the <<:urse of 
 the duice. and the various niidnlal ions are pietty eiiongli, 
 rese!"ti.ing Ihe ninveiiients id" a .serpent. The diiucirs, on 
 the lirst of May, visit such ncly marr.cii sairsof a certaio 
 
KXin.ANATORY NOTES. 
 
 813 
 
 rank, as havebeen married sirce lii-it May day in the neigh- 
 bimiiinod, who commonly bt-slow on them a stuffed hall, 
 rlclily iii( ked witli ^..d and silver lace, and ai-C(>iri|iaiiied 
 Willi a pvisi'iii 111' iiii'iii'V to regale tlieinselves after the 
 dance, Tliis dance is practised wlien the bonfires are 
 lighted lip, the queen hailitig the return of summer, in a 
 populir Irish song, beginning : 
 
 ■' Il'e lead on Summer — see .' she. folloiBS in our train. " 
 
 BOSWELL. 
 
 " Lawn as w/iile as driven snow, etc." — Act. IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 Antnlvcus here enumerates, in his assumed character of 
 H pedliir, such articles as being on sale as were likely to 
 attract customers. What these were we can only guess at. 
 He has" unliraided wares. " This probably means of the 
 best inanulacture undamaged. " Points more l-liati all the 
 lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle. " These were 
 laces with metal tags to them. " Caddices :" Caddis, ac- 
 cording to Mahine, is a narrow worsten ferret. " Inkle : " 
 Inkle, as we learn from the .same authority, is a kind of 
 tave. "Poking sticks of steel:" Slowe informs us, tliat 
 •' ahotit the sixiceuthe yeare of the (^ueen Klizabeth. l.c 
 gr.ii tlie iiiiikiiigo steel poking sticks, and until that time 
 all laundiesses used setting sticks made of wood or hone." 
 These poking slicks were hea-led in t!ie lire, and made use 
 of to adjnsl tne plaitsof rutls. " Pomander:" a Pomander 
 was a little hall made of perfumes, and worn in the pocket, 
 or about the neck, to prevent infection when the plague 
 was prevalent. 
 
 " A pair of sweet yluees "—Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 Sfowes' continuitor, Edmund Howes, intiirms us. that 
 th«£iiglisi) could not" make any costly waslie or pci fume. 
 
 until ahoule the fourteenth or fifteenth of (h* Qiiecne Eliza- 
 beth, the Kiglit Honnurabie Edward \ ere, Eirl of Ox- 
 f-rde, came from Italy, and brought wiih him gloves, 
 sweet bagges, a i-crliimed bather jerkin, and other plea- 
 sant Ihinss ; and that the (Jueene had a ptn/re o/'per/i'med 
 ff/yyes trimmed only with foure tufts or fuses' of ciilleied 
 silke. The Queene tooke such pleasure in those gloves, 
 tn,xt she was pictured with ihose gloves upon her hands : 
 and for many years after it was called the Er/e of Oxjurdei 
 perfume."— WXWVOT^. 
 
 •' Here's another ballad; Of a fish. "—Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 Whoever was hanged or burnt a merrv or lamentable 
 ballad was immediaiely entered on the books ot the Sta- 
 tioners' Company : among the enlries for KiDl, we llnd the 
 following, to wh ch, no doubt, Aiilolycus allmles : '" A 
 strange reporte of a monstrous fish thiit ajipruied in the 
 shape of a woman, from her waiste upward, seene in the 
 Si^a. " 
 
 " All men ofkair."~Act IV. Sc. 3, 
 ifen of hair, are hairy men, or satyrs. A dance of 
 satyrs was no unusual enlertainment in ihe imdille ages. 
 At a great festival celebrated in Fiance, the king and 
 some of the nobles personated satyrs dressed in close habits, 
 tutttd or shagged all over, to imitate hair. They began a 
 wild dance; and in the tumult of their merriment, one of 
 them went too near a candle and set fire to his satyr's garb, 
 Ihe flame ran instantly over the loose tufts, and spread 
 itself to Ihe dress of those who were next to him ; a great 
 number of the dancers were cruelly scorched, being neither 
 able to throw oif their coats, nor extinguish ihfui. The 
 King had set himself in the lap of the Ouchess of Burgundy, 
 who threw her robe over him and saved him. — JOHNSON, 
 
 C031EDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 " Carlca>iet."—.Kct III. Sc, 1. 
 Kcarkanct .seems to have been a necklace set with stones, 
 or strung wiih pearls. Thas, in Parlhenria S.«ra, !l),33: 
 " Seeke not vermillion or ceruse in the face, bracelets of 
 oriental pearls on the wrists, ruble carkmiets on the neck, 
 and a most exouisite fan of feathers in the hand." 
 
 STEEVEXS. 
 " An everlasting qarmenl." — Act IV. Sc.2. 
 The sergeants or sheriffs' olHcers. in Sliakspeare's time, 
 were clad in hutf, Buti'isalsoa cant expression foramans 
 skin, a covering which lasts him as long as his life. 
 
 iMASON. 
 " One that before the judgment carries poor souls to hell:" 
 
 Act IV, Sc, 2. 
 S*" Aire judgment ; that is, on what is called 7«>'i;He pro- 
 cess : when a man is arrested after judgment, he is said 
 to Ir; taken 111 execution. Hell was t lie cnt name for an 
 ttiscure liungeoii in any of our prisons, — .MALONK. 
 ■ What, hare you got the picture of old Adam new appa- 
 re/fd?'-Act IV. Sc.3. 
 Here seems to be an allusion to some well known con 
 
 temporary painting, perhaps of a sign, " Adam, whom 
 God dyd fyrsl create, made the fyrst lethrr cimles for him- 
 self- and his wyl'e Eve, our old mother; leavyng thereby 
 a patron to al his posieritie of Ihnt crafte." Puli/dore Vir- 
 gil, trauslaled by Langley,— DOUCE. 
 
 « Thou peevish officer."— Kcl IV, Sc. 4. 
 
 Peevish, ashexe used, is synonimous io Joutish, and tbe 
 word was frequently so employed by our old uiitirs: so, 
 in The Curse of Corn Holders, by Chailes I'itz Oeofi'ry, 
 IC.13 : " The Egyptians relieved Ihe Israelites in Ihe famine, 
 though it were an abomination to the Egyptians, in their 
 peevish superstition, to eate breade with the Hebrewes." 
 " His man with scissors nicks him like a fool." — .Act V.Sc.l. 
 
 There is a penalty often shillings in one of king Alfred's 
 ecclesiastical laws if one opprobriou.sly shave a common 
 man like ajool. Fools were certainly shaved or nicked in 
 a peculiar manner in Shakspeare's time, as we learn from 
 The Choice of Change, isys, " Three things used by monks, 
 « liicli provoke other men to laugh at their follies : 1. They 
 HIV .'■hr/veii and notched on tlie head Uktjoo/es." — TOIXET 
 iMil MAEONE. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 " A'enies a?id Gallowglasses." — Act I Sc, 2 
 We have the following account of Kernes and Cnllov)- 
 {//(Tiie.s, iiiBarnahy Kiche's new Irish Progiiosticatiuu : 
 'Thr <7,r//u(y/«,v siicceedeth the horseman, and he i.s com- 
 monh arme i \vitb a scull; a shiite of m:iile, and a Giiho- 
 glas ii.xi'. Hiss' rvice in the field is neither good against 
 Jiorscmen, nor able to endure an encounter of pikes: yet 
 Ihe Irish to make great account of them. The Kerne of 
 Ireland are ne,\l in request, the very dross and scum of the 
 «;ountry,a generation of villaines not fit to live : these be 
 they that live by robbing and spoyling the poor countrey- 
 mau,lhnt maketn him many times to buye bread (o give 
 unto them, tiiouge he want for himselle and his poore 
 children. These are they that arc reaily to run out with 
 everie rebell, and these are the verie hags of hell, tit for 
 nothing but for the gallows, "—BOSWELL. 
 
 " Saint Colmes' Inch."—A.ct. I. Sc. 2. 
 
 Colmes' Inch, now called Inckcomh, is a small island in 
 the Firth of Edinburgh, with an abbey upon it, dedicated 
 to Saint C'domb, called by Camden 1/ich Colm, or the Isle 
 of St. Columha. Holinshed thus relates the circumstance 
 alluded to in Ihe play : " The Danes that escaped, and got 
 once to their ships, obtained of Makbefh for a great summe 
 of gold, that sucli of their friends as were slaine, might be 
 buried in Saint Colmes' inch. In memorie whereof many 
 old sepultures are yet in the said inch, there to be seene, 
 graven with the arnus of the Danes." 
 
 " The rump fed ronyon." ActI, So 3. 
 
 The chief cooks, in noblemeiCs families, colleges, and 
 hospitals, anciently claimcu the emoluments or kitchen 
 fees of kidneys, fat trotters, rumps, &c. which tliey sold to 
 the poor. The weird sister, in this scene, as an insult on 
 the poverty of Ihe woman who had called her ivitch, re- 
 proaches her poor abject state, at not being able to procure 
 better provision than oflals.— COLEPEPEK. 
 
 " /;( a sii-re I'll thither sail." Act I. Sc. 3. 
 Reginald Scott says, it was believed that witches " could 
 sail in an egg shell, a cockle or muscle .shell, through and 
 und -r the t^ mpestuous seas," And in a book, " declaring 
 ihe diinnable life of DociorFian," is the following passage: 
 "All they (Ihe witches) togetlser went to sea, each one in a 
 riddle "r loe.and went in the siime very substantially with 
 fiagguQs of wine, making merric and drinking by the way, 
 la tho i»me riddles or civet.' 
 
 " And like a rat without a tail— Acl I, Sc. 3. 
 I( was imagined, that though a witch could assume the 
 foiin of any animal she pleased, the tail would still be 
 wanting. This deficiency has been thus accounled for; 
 though the hanils and feet, by an easy change, might be 
 converted into ihe four paws of a beast, still there was no 
 part about a woman which corresponded to the length of 
 tail common to almost all our four fooled animals. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 " I'll give, thee a wind."— Act I. Sc. 3. 
 This gift of a wind must be looked upon as an act of sis- 
 terly friendship, for witches were supposed to sell tbem. 
 So in Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1800. 
 
 " in Ireland and in Denmark both. 
 
 Witches for gold will sell a man a winde ; 
 Which in the corner of a napkin wrap'd. 
 Shall blow him safe unto what caast he will." 
 It may be hoped that our witches behaved more hand- 
 somely than one of their relations, as described in an ap- 
 pendix to the old translation of Marco Paulo, Vj'i : " they 
 demanded that he should give them a winde ; and lie 
 sheweil, setting his hands bekinde, from whence the winde 
 should coMf."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " The insane root." — Act. I. Sc. 3. 
 
 " Yon gaz'd against the sun, and so blemished your sight; 
 
 or else you have eaten of the roots of hemlock, that makes 
 
 men's eves conceit unseen ohjects."— GllEENE'S NEVEH 
 
 TOO LATE, IClfi. 
 
 •' The prince of Cumberland."— Aci 1. S", . 4. 
 " Duncan having two sonnes, he made thee'der of them, 
 called Malcolm, prince of Cumberla'nd, as it was thereby 
 lo appoint him successor in his kingdome immediatelie 
 after his decease. Mackbelh. sorely troubled herewith, for 
 that he saw by this means his hope sore hindered (where 
 by the old laws of Ihe realme the ordinance was, that if 
 he that should succeed was not able of age to take the 
 charge upon himselfe, he that was next of blood unto him 
 should be admitted) he began lo tak^ counsel how he 
 might usurp the kingdom by force, h."i'^g a lusl quarrel 
 so to doe {as he loote the matter,) for tl.al Duncane did 
 what in him lav tooefraude him of all n.anner of title a;id 
 claime, which iie niichi, in tymelo come, oretend to the 
 crowne.'-HOLlNSiatD. 
 
811: 
 
 EXPL \NATORY NOTES. 
 
 •■ I havf rvgg'd their possets."— '■^ Aaill. Sc. 2. 
 
 it 'A-a5 a general custom to eat possets just before hetl 
 tini^. K.iudle Holmes in liis Academy of Armory, says: 
 "■ I^'issyf '= hot miiK poured on ale or sack, having sugar, 
 p^ted bisket, and eggs, with other ingredients boiled iuit, 
 whicUgoes ail to a curj."— MALONE. 
 
 " Culme-ki/L"— Act II. Sc. 3. • ' 
 
 Colme-Jcill is the famous /uh'i, thn burying plareofthe 
 emieiit Scultish kings, one of the Western Isles, described 
 by Joluison in his Tour.— STEEVEJNS. 
 
 " The pit of Acherun.'—Kci HI. Sc. 5. 
 
 Shakspeare seems to have thouglit it allowable to give 
 Ihe name ui Arheron to any fountain, hike, or pit. through 
 wuioh there was vulfarly supuosed to be any communica- 
 tion between this aud the infernal world. The true origi- 
 nal Aclieron was a river in Greece, and yet Virgil giies 
 this name to his lake in the valley of Amsaiwliis, in Italy. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 « Enter the Three Witches.'— kc\. IV. Sc. I. 
 
 Shakspeare has chosen every circumstance of his infer- 
 Dil ceremonies with great judgment. A cat was the usual 
 interlocutor between witches and familiar .spirits. .4 
 witch, who was tried about fifly years befire the bard's 
 time, was said to have had a cat named Riitterkin. and 
 when any mischief was to he done she would bid Rutterkin 
 go and fly. Thecoma on alilictious attributed toihe malice 
 of witches, were melancholy, tits, and loss of flesh. They 
 likewise destroyed the cattle of their neighbours, and the 
 farmers have, to thi'i day, many ceremonies lo secure their 
 herds from witchcraft. Tney were very malicious to 
 swine; one of Shaksptare's bags, says, she has been kil- 
 ling swine; and Dr. Harsnet observes, (hat in histiine "a 
 sow could not be ill of the measles, nor a girl of the sul- 
 iens. but some old woman was charged with witchcraft. 
 Toads have long been rcpniacbed a? tlie abettors of witch 
 ciaft. When Vaninus was siezed at Thuiouse, there was 
 found in his lodgings, « greal touU shut in a i hiul upon 
 whicii. those that prosecuted him, denounced him as a 
 wi/aid. '1 he ingredients ol'.SIiaksi'eare's cauldron are se- 
 lected according to the lorniniaries prescribed in books 
 c.fmagick. Witches were supposed to take up bodislo 
 use ia eichantinents, whicli was coiilessed by the woman 
 whom king James examined, and who had of a dead body 
 that was divided in one of tii-ir assemblies, two fingers lor 
 her share. A passage from Camden explains anJ.justities 
 our author in some other |i.irticulais : " Wlien any one 
 gets a fall, he stamls up, and tiirniiiy three times lo the 
 right, digs a hole in (he earlli ; for they imagine that there 
 is a spirit in the ground, ai:d if he falls sick in two or three 
 liays, they send one of their women that is skilled in tliat 
 way, to (he place, where .she says. ' I call tliee from the 
 east, west, north, and soulh, from the groves, the wooils, 
 the rivers, and the fens, Jro/ii the Jairies, rtd blai.k, and 
 ttVii/f.'— JOHN.SON. &c. 
 
 And i/c4 the ei-ihlh appea'is, who hears a glass. 
 
 A-^tlV.Scl. 
 
 Magicians, in the superstitious age of our aiithori P'o- 
 fessed to have the power of shewing future c\ cuts by 
 YweuUi y>{ a charmed glass or mirror. So, in an exrtaot 
 from the Penal Laws against Witches, it is said, "They 
 do answer either by voice, or else do set before thei' eyes 
 ill (7/n4'.c(?s, crystal stones. &c. the pictures or imajes o? 
 persons or things sought for." Spenser has given a very 
 circumstantial account of the glass which Merlin made for 
 king Ryeiice. A mirror of the same kind was presented to 
 Cambuscan in The Squire's Tale of Chaucer; and in .loha 
 Alday's translation of Pierre Boistean's Theatruin Mundi. 
 " A certain pliiiosopher did the like to Pompey, the whitll 
 shewed him iu a glass the order of his eiicinies' inarih.' 
 
 STE EVENS. 
 
 " The mere despair of surgery he cures."— Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 The power of curing the king's evil was claimed by n.auy , 
 ofthe Plantagenets. Or. Horde, who wrote in the time 
 of Henry VIU. says: "The kynges of England, by the 
 powerthatCod hath given unto ihem, dojth make syeh 
 men whole of a syckiiess called the kyog's evyil." In 
 I.auehain's aa|-.oiiiit of (he Etitertainmeuts of Keiieiworth, 
 it is said: " And also by her uighiies.se (i|uee:i Elizabeth) 
 accuslemed mercy and charitee, nyiie cured of (he payn- 
 ful and dangerous deseaz called the king's evil, for 
 that kings and queens of this realme without oother 
 medsin (save only by liandling and prayer) onl> doo it." 
 This (iractice was continued so late as queen Anne's 
 time : Dr. Johnson, when a child, was touched lor the aril 
 by that princess. 
 
 " English epicures."— .\ct V. Sc. 3. 
 Of (he ancient poverty of Scotland, the following men- 
 tion is made by Froissart :— ■' They be like wylde and 
 savage people — they dought ever to lese that they have, 
 for it is a poore countrey. And when the Eiiglishnien 
 maketh any rood or voyage into the countrey, if tliey 
 thynke to lyve, they must cause their provysion anil 
 vitayle to follow them at their backe, for luey shall Hiid 
 nothing in that counlrey." Such a people, who made hut 
 one meal a dav, envying the " English likerous delicats," 
 would be ready enough to brand their ancient enemies 
 with (he namcoff/;icKr« STEEVENS. 
 
 " Henceforth he earls, the first that ever Scotland 
 III such an hujiuiir iiaM'd:"—\ct V. Sc. 7. 
 
 "Malcolm, immediately after his coronation, called a 
 Iiariement at Fnrfair, iu (he vvhic h he rewarded ihein with 
 lands and livings that had assisted him against Macbeth. 
 Wanie of tiicm that were before thanes, were at this time 
 made (^i-rr/e.T, as Fife, Menteith, .\tholl, Levenox. Mur'-ey, 
 <_'aihnoss. Ros.se. and Angus."— HOLINSHED'S HIS- 
 TOlfY OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 * ^Vith that half-face."— .\cl. I. Sc. I. 
 
 Tlie poet sneers at the meagre sharp vi.sage of the elder 
 brother, by comparing him (o a silver groai that bore ;lie 
 king's face in priilile. so .shewing but half the J ace ; the 
 groats 01' all our English kings, and indeed all (heir other 
 silver cidns, \v;(h one or two exceptions, hr.d a full face 
 crowned: till Henry Vil, coined groats and half groats, as 
 also some shillings with half face's, as all our coin has now. 
 The first groats of Henry VI II. were like his father's, 
 though he aftenvards returned to (he broad faces again. 
 These groats, w ith the impression in profile, are here al- 
 luded to; though (he author is guilty of an anachronism; 
 for in John's time there were no groats at all, they being 
 first coined in (he reign of Edward III.— THEOBALD. 
 
 " ^ Mij face so thin , 
 
 That in mine ear 1 durst nut slick a rose. 
 
 Lest men should say, look where three fartfl'ntgs goes." 
 
 Act I. Sc. I. 
 
 In Elizabeth's time there were three farthing silver 
 nieces ; ihey were impressed with her head, with a full 
 blown ro.ie behind it; these pieces were of course ex- 
 tremely thin. In this age, fashionables of both sexes wore 
 llnwtis, especially roses, behind their ears. Combine 
 these circumstances, and the allusion is obvioii.s. 
 
 THEOBALD. 
 « Plantagenst."—Kct I. Sc. 1. 
 
 Plnntagenet was not a family name, but u nick-name, by 
 which a grandson of GertVey, the first earl of Anjou was 
 distinguished, from his wearing a broom stalk in his bonnet. 
 " Now your traveller."— XcV. I. Sc. 1. 
 
 Travelling, in Elizabeth's time, was the fashionabVe re- 
 fource of those who had no fixed occupafion; as to have 
 seen foreign ctmntries enabled a man to assume airs of 
 suiieriority over his untravelled companions. " A (ra- 
 veller was a good thing after dinner ;" a constant occasion 
 pt wonder and amusement. Yet travellers fell into strange 
 impel (inences. Sir Thomas Overbury, speaking of one, 
 says ;— « He censures all things by countenances and 
 shiugs, and speaks his own language with shame and lisp- 
 Jiig; he will choke rather than confess beere good driuke, 
 and his tooth jnck is a main part of his behaviour " 'Tra- 
 Tcilcrs bronght home many ridiculous fashions. Gascoigne 
 ;n nis Poems, 1572, describes some of .hese :— 
 ■_ Now. .lir, if I shall see your mastership 
 Come h,jme disgiiis'd, and clad in quaint array : 
 A wtih a pike tooth hyiiwj on yi/ur tijipe ; 
 four brave mustachius turu'd the Turkic way ; 
 
 A coptankt hat madtr on a Flemish llocke ; 
 A night- gowne cloake doivn tray,ing to your toes ; 
 A slender slop close couched to your doik, 
 A curtolde slipper, and a short silk hose." 
 " Colbrand. "—h.ci I. Sc. 1. 
 Colbrand v,ns a Danish giant, whom Guy of Warwick 
 discomfited in the presence of king .\thelstan. Tiie com- 
 bat is very pompously described by Dray ton in his Folyol- 
 bion.-JOHNSON. 
 
 " Richard, that robh'd the lion of his heart."— .S.c\. U. Sc. I. 
 So Rastal in his Chronicle : " It is sayd (hat a lynn was 
 put to kynge Richard, beynge in prison, to have devoured 
 him, and when the lyon was gapyiige he (lut his arme into 
 his mouth, and pulled \\\i: lytin by the harte so hard (hat 
 he slew tiie lyon, and therefore some say he is called 
 Richard Cure de Lyon ; but some say he is called Cure 
 de Lyon, because oi' his boldness and hardy stomake." 
 
 GREY. 
 " By this brave duke came early to his grave." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 1. 
 Richard was not killed by the duke of Austria ; he lost 
 his life at (he siege of Chilnz, king after he had been ran- 
 somed out ofthe hands of this petty potentate. The pro- 
 ducing Austria on the scene is also contrary to the truth 
 of history. Leopold, duke of Austria, bv whom Richard I. 
 had been thrown into prison in 1193, died in consequence 
 of a fall from his horse, in 1195, some years before the 
 commencement of the present play. The original cause 
 of quarrel between Austria and Richard is variously re- 
 lated. Harding in his Chronicle says, that the source vf 
 enmity was Richard's taking down the duke of Austria'.i 
 arms and banner, which be had set up above those of the 
 king of France and (he king of Jerusalem. The aft'ront 
 •«as given when they lay before Acre in Palestine. 
 
 MALONE. 
 " That thou may'st be a queen, and check the world." 
 
 Act. U.Sc 1. 
 " Surely queen Eleanor, the kyng's mother, was sore 
 against her nephew Arthur, rather moved thereto by envye 
 conceyved against his mother, than upon any just occa- 
 sion, given in the beha'fe of the childe ; for that she saw, 
 if he were kynge, how his mother Constance vjould /ooke 
 to beare Ike most ruie within the realme of Engtande. till 
 her Sonne should come to a lawful age to goverue bimselfe. 
 So hard a thing it is to bringe women to agree in one 
 minde, their natures commonly t>eing so contrary." 
 
 HOLJNSIIED 
 
fc:XPLA>«ATORY NOTES. 
 
 R)5 
 
 " The lady Blanch.-— Act U. Sc. 2. 
 The lady Blanch was claii^hter to Alphonso IX. king of 
 Castile, and whs uiece to kiug John, by bis sistm- Ele rinor." 
 
 STEEV'EISS. 
 
 " A widow."— Kci HI. Sc. 1. 
 
 This was not the fact. Constan(^e was. at Ihistime, mar- 
 
 rieil to a (hinl hushani, Guido, brother to llie viicoviat cf 
 
 Touars. Slie bad lieen divorced from her 4ec.-e«(^ husband, 
 
 Kaiiulph, earl ofChesier.— MALONE. 
 
 " Some airy devil ksvers in Ike sky." — Act III. Sc. 2. 
 
 " he spirits of the aire wifl mixe themselves with 
 thunder and lightning, and so infi-ct the cb me wliere they 
 raise any temiiest, that soilainely great inortalitie sliall 
 ensue to tl'.e inhabitauts, Tlie spirits of lire have tlieir 
 mansions undf-r the regions of the mooiie."— I'lERCE 
 PEN.MLESSE. HIS SUPPLICATION , 15U2. 
 
 Btll, book, and candle, shall not drive me back." 
 
 Act III. Sc. 3 
 
 Im .Archbishop Winchelsea's Sentences of Excnmfnuni- 
 ra!io:i. aiiiii f.'.is, it is directed, that the sentence against 
 tile inlViiigers <d certain articles should be "throughout 
 explained i/i order in Eiiplish, with bells lolling and can- 
 dies lii/liled, that it may cause the greafer dread ; for lay- 
 men have greater regard to this solemnity, than to ihe 
 eftisct of such sentences."— KEED. 
 
 " Young 'jenllemen v:ould be as sad as niglit. 
 Only fur wunlonness." Act IV. Sc. I. 
 
 It vas once fashionable to affect melancholy in company. 
 Ben Jonson ridicules Ibis folly in Every i^laninhis Hu- 
 mour; again, in Questions concernyng Conie hood, and 
 (he Nature of the Couie: — "That conie hood which pro- 
 ceeds of melancholy, is, when in feastings appointed for 
 incrrinicnl, this kind of conie man sits like Wnpsus or 
 Cnry<lon. blockish, never laugliing, never speaking, but so 
 bearislilie as if he would devour all the compame, v.li ch 
 he doth to this end, that the guests might nuitler how 
 
 this his deep melancholt/ argueth great learning in him, 
 and an iniendinent lomost weighlv alfaires and heavenly 
 
 .■ipeeulations." Again in Lyiy's jlidas. Mm-. ••Melan- 
 choly ? IS melaiuhuiy a word tor a b rber's mouth ' Thou 
 sbonld'st say, heavy, dull, and doltish : melanch-ily 'k the 
 crest ot conrtjers. and now evrvv bnse t( lopanion says, 
 \\c'\smel(tiuhoii/." And in the life and Death of the Lord 
 Cromwell, t(il3 ^— 
 
 " My iii.bilily is wonderful melancholy. 
 
 Is it not most genlieman like to be meianchoh/ '" 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " And here's a prnphel " — .Act IV. Sc.2. 
 This man was a hermit in great repute.wiih Ihe common 
 p;ople. Niitw itlist:uiding ihe event is said in liave f.illen 
 oul as lie proi^liecied. the poor fellow was inliumanly 
 d aggtd at horses' lails Ibrcugh the streets of Warliam, 
 and together with his son, who appears to have been e\e 
 more innocent than his father, hauged afterwards ucon ' 
 gibbet.— DOUCE. '' 
 
 " The wall is high, and yet I will leap dowr." 
 
 Act i\ . r,c. 3 
 In what manner Arthur was deprived of lile is uncertnia 
 it seems that Jehu conducted the assassination with ira- 
 penclrable secrecy. The French writers, however, sa^ 
 that John coming in a boat, during ihe night time, to t!ia 
 castle of Rouen, where the young prince was contined, 
 ordered him to be brought forth, and having slabbed him, 
 while supplicating for mercy, the king fastened a stone to 
 the dead body, and ihrew it into the Seine, in orderto give 
 some colour, whicb he al'lerwards caused to be spread, 
 that the prince, attempting to escape out of a window 
 of the tower of ihe castle, fell into llie river and was 
 drowned.— MALONE. 
 
 " At Worcester must his body be interr'd." — .\ct V. Sc. 7. 
 A slone coHin, containing the body of king John, was 
 discover-d in the cathedral church of Worcester. July 17, 
 17y7.-STEEVENS ' 
 
 RING RICHARD II. 
 
 " Old John of Gaunt tinie-honour'd Lancaster." 
 
 Act I. Sc.l. 
 John of Gaunt, who is here supposea to he extremely 
 old, was at lliis time only litly-eiglit years of age. ISut it 
 was usual v.ilh our old authors to atlribute seuiliiy lo per- 
 sons whom we slunild only think in their middle ag". 
 King iienry is represeu'ed by U iniel as extremely o.d, 
 when he had a child by the lady Rosamond. This monarch, 
 at his death, was only lifly six. The earl of Leicester is 
 called an old man, by Sjienser. when he was not lifty ; 
 and the French ailiniral Coligny, is repre-euled by^ his 
 biographer as a very old man." though at Ihe time of his 
 death he was but lii'ly-three. This might arise, in some 
 measure, from its being usual to enter life much earlier 
 than we do at present ; those who were married at filteen. 
 had been, at lifty, masiers of a house and family far tliirty- 
 five years.— W.VLONE. 
 
 " The duke of Closter's death."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 Thomas of WoodstorJc, the youngest son of Edward III. 
 who was murdered at CaUiis, in lo'.l7 —.MALONE. 
 
 " Since last 1 went to France to fetch his giieen." 
 
 Act I Sc. !. 
 
 Isabel, the daughter of ChirlesVI. was, at the lime of 
 
 her marriage with Richard II. not more than eight years 
 
 old. Consequently, the part ^he is made to take in this 
 
 play, is a palpable deviaticni from historical truth, as she 
 
 was still a mere child at her husband's death. — M.ALONE. 
 
 " Lions make leopards tante " — .Act I. Sc. 1. 
 
 The Norfolk crest was a golden leopard.— MALONE. 
 
 " Dnchess of Closter."—A.cl I. Sc.2. 
 The duchess of Gloster, was Eleanor Bohun, widow of 
 duke Thomas, son of Ed«ard HI — WALPOLE. 
 " Anmerle." — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 Edward, duke of Aumerle, so created by his cousin- 
 frerma-i, Richard II. in I.S'JT. He was the eldest son of 
 Edward of L^nglcy, duke of York, lifih scui (f king Ed- 
 ward III. ; and was killed in Ulfi, at the battle of .\gin- 
 court. He otficialed at the lists of Coventry, as high con- 
 stable cf England.— MAI..ONE. 
 
 " Xowbray's waxen coat.'' — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 Tliebriganiilnes, or coats of mail, then in use, were com- 
 posed of small pieces of steel quilted over one another, 
 and yet so flexible as to accommodate the dress they form 
 to every motion of the body ; of these many are still to be 
 
 seen iu the Tower of London STEEVENS. 
 
 " lV«>-rf«r."— Act. I. Sc. 3. 
 A xvarder appears to have been a kind of truncheon, 
 carried by the person who presided at these pingle cond)at3, 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 « The duke of rork.'-Act II. Sc. 1. 
 Edmond. duke of York, was the fifth .son of Edward III. 
 and was born in 1441, at Langley, near St. Albans in 
 Hertford, from whence he had his surname. This prince, 
 as bishop Lowth has observed, « was ot an indolent dispo- 
 sition, a lover of pleasure, and averse to business; easi y 
 prevailed upon to lie slill, and consult his own quiet; 
 and never acting with spirit upon any occasion." 
 
 « — This land 
 
 Is now teas'd out (I die pronouncing it,) 
 Like to a tenement, or pelting farm." ,„ „ , 
 
 Act II. So J. 
 
 " In this twenty-second year of King Richard' the 
 co'iiuum fame r.inne that Ihe king had Uttten lo .tarme 
 the reaime unto Sir W'lilam Scroope, earle of Wiltshire, 
 ami iben treasiuvr of England, to Sir Jehu Bushev, Sir 
 Joiia Jiagot, and Sir Henry Greue knightes."— I'WBLVN. 
 
 *' Norlh'prerenlion of poor Baling broke. 
 About his imirriaye." Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 Wlien the duke of Herelord, after his banishment, went 
 into Frame, he was honourably entertained at that court, 
 and would have obtained in marriage the only child of the 
 duke of Berry, unc e to the French king, had not Ricuaid 
 prevented the match.- STEEVENS. 
 
 " to sue 
 
 His livery." Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 On the death cf every person who held by knights' ser- 
 vice, the eschealor of ilie court in which he d e<l, suin- 
 tnoned a jury, who enquired what estate he died seized of, 
 and of what age his next heir was. If he was underage, 
 he became a ward ol the king's; but if he was fund to be 
 of full age. he then had a right to sue out a writ of ouster- 
 le-main, that is, his livery, that th.e king's hand might he 
 taken off, and the land delivered to him. — .MALON E. 
 " As blanks, benevolences, and I wot 7iot what." 
 
 Act H. Sc. 1. 
 Slowe records, that Richard II. " compelled all Ihe re- 
 ligious, gentlemen, and commons, to set Ih-ir S' ales to 
 blaukes. to the end he might, if it pleased him. oppress 
 them severally, or all at once : some of the commons paid 
 a thousand marks, some a thousand pounds.' &c — HtJLT 
 ami WHITE. 
 
 " Archbishop late of Canterbury." — Act II. Sc. 1. 
 Thomas .\rundel. archbishop of Canterbury, broiher to 
 the earl of Avumlel, who was beheaded during this reign, 
 had been banished by the parliament, and was afterwards 
 deprived by the pope of his see, at the request of the king ; 
 whence he is here called 'late of Canterburi/." 
 
 STEEVEKS. 
 tiike perspectives, which, rightli/ gaz'd upon. 
 Shew nothing but coMfusion ; ey'd awry. 
 Distinguish farm." Act (I. Sc. 2 
 
 Amongst mathematical ipctmt'ior.s, Q\ere is one in op 
 tics, in which a figure if drawn, wherein all the rules ol 
 perspective are inverted, so that if held in the siime posi- 
 tion with those pictures which hre drawn aci:ording (o 
 the rules of peripec/i!/'^, it can present nothing but con- 
 Jusion : and to be seen in form and under a regular »f> 
 pearance, it must be looked upon from a contrary station; 
 or, as Shakspeare says, " eyed awry."— WARBURTON 
 ' The bay trees in eur country all are wither'd." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 4 
 "In this yeare, in a manner throughout all Ihe realme 
 of England," old baietrees withered."— HOLIN.-HED. 
 « From my own windows torn my household coat." 
 
 Act III. Sc. I 
 
 It was the practice, when coloured^ glass was in use, o' 
 
 which there are still some remains in old seats and 
 
 churches, to anneal Ihe arms of the family in the windows 
 
 of Ihe house,— JOHNSON. 
 
 " My gay apparel." — .\cX HI. Sc. 3. 
 Kiag Richard's expense iu dress was very extraordi- 
 
816 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 nary : Holiiished says, " he had one cote, which be caused 
 to be made for him (if gold aud stone, valued at 30,000 
 marks."_aTJiEVKNS. 
 
 '• Wes/niin.iter hall."—Kci IV. Sc. 1. 
 The re hiiiidiiiK oC Westminster hall, which Richard 
 had begun in 1307, being tinislied in 1390, the first meeting 
 of parliament in the new editice was for the purpose of de- 
 posing him."— MALONE. 
 
 ".Ill God's name, I'U ascend the regal throne." 
 
 Act. IV. Sc. I. 
 The words actually spoken by Henry, on this occasion, 
 were as follows, standing upright, that every one might 
 see him ; after he had crossed himseli' on the forehead and 
 breast, and called on llie name of Christ he said: "In 
 the nam« of Fiidher,- Son, and Holy Ghost, I, Henry of 
 Ijancaster, challenge the rew'me of YnglaTide, and the 
 croun, with all tite niembres and the nppurtenances, and 
 als I, that am de-cendit by right line of the bloiie, coining 
 from tliegoode king lienry Tiierde, an'l throge that right 
 that Gild (if his grace halh sent me, %vith help of kyn, and 
 of my friendes to recover it, the which rewme was in poyiit 
 to be nndmie, by del'aut of governaunce, and ondoyug of 
 the gude lawes. "—MALONE. 
 
 " Did keep ten lliousiind men." — Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 Kicbard II. was very magnificent in his household. The 
 
 old chronjcles say, " that to his household came eve»» . 
 day to meate ten thousand men." 
 
 " To Julius Casar's ill-erected tower."— Kci V. Sc. 1. 
 
 The Towffr of London is traditionally said to have been 
 the work of Julius Cj-'.sar. Ste yens says, ill-erected means 
 erectedjor bud purposes.— iOUT^^O^. 
 " Thus play I, in one person, many people." — Act V. Sc. 5. 
 
 This alludes to the necessities of our early theatres. The 
 title-pages cf some of our Molalities, shew, that three or 
 fo>tr characters were [requenl\y represented by one per- 
 son.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Here to die."— Act V. Sc. 5. 
 
 King Richard's body was publicly exposed in St. Paul's, 
 and a.s no marks of violence appeared, he cimld not have 
 been assassinated, as represented in ihe drama; thcuah 
 a similar account U given in Hall's Chmnicli-, and Sir 
 Pierce Exton's Narrative was to the same etltxt. Slow's 
 account seems the most probable, and is con'iiraed by 
 many other authors. He says, "he was empiisoned in 
 Pomfract castle, where fifteen days and nightes tliey vexed 
 him with continual hunger, thirst, and cold, and finally 
 bereft him of his life with such a kind of death as never 
 before that time was knowen in England." 
 
 RING HENRY IV. Part I. 
 
 " The gallant Hotspur there, 
 
 Young Harry fercy." Act I. Sc 1. 
 
 " Tliis Harry Percy was surnamed, for his often prick 
 fng. Henry Hotspur ; as one that seldom times rested, 
 if "there were auie service to be done abroad." 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 " The prisoners.".— \ct. I. Sc. 1. 
 
 By the law of arms, every man who had taken any cap- 
 tive, whose ransom did not exceed ten thousand crowns, 
 had him clearly for himself, either to redeem or retain at 
 his pleasure.— TOLL ET. 
 
 •' A hare."— kci I. Sc 2. 
 
 A hare mav be considered as melancholy, because she 
 is upon her form, always solitary; and according to the 
 physic of the times, the ftesliofthe hare was supposed to 
 generate melancholy. The Egyptians, in their hierogly- 
 phics, expressed a melancholy man by a hare sitting in 
 her form.— lOH.NSON, and STEEVENS 
 
 " The melamhttly of Moor-dilch."—Kcl I. Sc. 2. 
 
 It appears from Stow's Survey, that a broad ditch called 
 Deep-ditch, once parted the hospital from Moorfields ; 
 and what has a more melancholy aspect than stagnant 
 water? It is mentioned in Taylor's Pennylesse Pilgrim, 
 lOIS. " My hiidy being tired with travel, and my mind 
 altered with moudy, muddy, Mooreditch melancholy." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Lincolnshire bagpipe."— Xcl I. Sc.2. 
 
 " At a Christmas time, when great logs furnish the hall 
 fire ; when brawne is in season, aud indeed all revelling 
 is regarded, this gallant knight kept open house for all 
 conimers, where beefe, beere, and bread was no niggard. 
 Amongst all the pleasures provided, a noyse of minstrells 
 and a Lincolnshire bagpipe was preiiared ; the minstrells 
 for the great chamber, ihe bagpipe for the hall; the min- 
 strells to serve up the kniglites meate, and the bagpipe for 
 the rommnn ilaucing."-A NEST OF NINNIES, BV R. 
 ARMIN, 1G08. 
 
 " Sir John Snckand- Sugar. "—KcX I. Sc. 2. 
 
 There has been much discussion as to what wine or 
 liquor Falstalf has immortalized by the name of sack. The 
 commentators, as u-ud when they ditfer, have left the 
 affair more obscure than they found it. Yet it seems pro- 
 bable that Sherrv, Canary, and Mountain M'llnga, were 
 drank inditferentl'v uiiderthat appellation — The fat knight 
 mixed sugar with liis sack, but this will not be thought ex- 
 traordinary, since we know that in our poet's time, it was 
 a common practice to put sugar in all wines. " Clownes 
 and vulgar men (says Fynes M(n-yson) only use large 
 drinking of beere or ale, but gentlemen garrawse only in 
 wine, with «'Ai( A they mix sugar, vi\w\\ I never observed 
 in any other place orkingdum to be used fur that purpo.se." 
 It was customary for the waiters in taverns, to have small 
 parcels of white sugar about them, in order to supply those 
 who took sack. So in The Guls' Horn Booke, 1009. " En- 
 quire what gallants sup in the next roome, and if they be 
 any of your acquaintance, do not yoa( after the city fash- 
 ion,) send them in a bottle of wine, and your name sweet- 
 ened in two pitiful pavers of sugar, with some filthy 
 apology crammed into the mouth of'^a drawer." Falstalf 
 complains that there was lime in his sack. This was a 
 common mode of adulterating this almost national drink. 
 Allot, in his Orthoeapia, speaking of sack and rhenish, 
 says. "The vinters in London put in lime, and thence 
 proceed infinite malidies, specially the gouttes." It was 
 usual, as a token of kindliness, in Shakspeare's day, for 
 the guests in taverns, to send presents of sac*, which was 
 sometimes mulled, from one to the other. An anachronism 
 is committed, by furnishing the hosts of Henry IV's retgn 
 with this wine, as the following extract from Taylor's Life 
 of Pair will sh-nv ; " The vintners sold no other sacks, 
 muscadels, malmsies, bastards, alicaiils, nor any other 
 wines, bn-t white, and claret, till the 33d year of Henry 
 VUI. 1543, and then was old Parr ftt >ears (f age. All 
 those sweet wines were sold till that time at the apothe 
 cary's, for no other tise but for medicines, " Two gallons 
 of sack cost Fa'-statf 5s Sd.;" aud from the annexed pas- 
 
 saee, our iioet's computation will be found very accurate, 
 " Claret wine, red and white, is sold for fire pence tliB 
 quart, and sack (or six pence : muscadel and malmsej; for 
 eight." Fliirio's First Fruiles, 1578. — Twenly years after- 
 wards, sack hud probably risen to eight-pence or eight- 
 pence half penny a i|Uirt, at whch rate two gallons would 
 cost 5s. 8d. What Sir John says of the excellent etfect of 
 sack on the intellect, was seriously believed. " These 
 wines arc goode for men of cold and tt gmaticke com- 
 plexion ; for suche wines rediesse and amende the cold- 
 ntsse of complexion." Regiment of Heaitli, 1034. 
 
 "All hallown summer." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 All hallotrsis All-halluwn-tide. or All saints-day, wh'icii 
 is the first of Nuremher. All-hallmrn summer is that .short 
 period of line, brigiit weather, which freejuently occurs 
 about the commencement of November. 
 
 " A pouncet box." — .\ct I. Sc. 3. 
 A small box for musk or other perfutnes then in fashion; 
 Ihe lid of wliirh. being cut with open work, gave it its 
 name, from poinsoner, to prick, pierce, or eiigrnre. 
 
 WARBURTON. 
 
 " Heir to the crown."— kct I. Sc. 3. 
 Roger Mortimer, earl of March, who was born in 1371, 
 was (leclared In ir apparent to the crown in Ihe ninth ve.ar 
 of king Richard II. He was killed in Ireland. 1.308. The 
 person, who was proclaimed by Richard heir apparent, 
 previous to his last voyage to Ireland, was Edmund Mor- 
 timer, (the son of Roger,) who was then but seven years 
 old; but he was not Percy's wife's brother, but her nepheiv. 
 
 MALOWE. 
 " Stvord-and-huckler." — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 The fidlowing extract from Stowe is worth notice; 
 "'This field, commonly called West .Smithfield, was (or 
 many years called Ruffian's hall, by reason itwas the usuai 
 place of frayes and common fighting, during the time that 
 swords and bucklers were in use. When everi/ serving- 
 man, from the base to the best, carried a buckler at hi.s 
 back, which hung by the hilt or pomel of his sword." 
 
 HENLY. 
 
 " We have the receipt of fern seed, we walk invisible." 
 
 Act H. Sc. I. 
 
 Frrn is one of those plants which have their seed on 
 (he back of the leaf so small as to escape Ihe sight. Those 
 who perceived that yVrw was propagated by semination, 
 and yet could never see the seed, were much at a less for 
 a solution of the difficulty; and as wonder always endea- 
 vours to augment itself they ascribed to /i»r?i seed many 
 strange pioprrties, some of which the rustic virgins have 
 not yet forgotten or exploded. — JOHNSON. 
 
 " Out of all cess. "—Act II. Sc. I. 
 That is, out of all measure ; the phrase being taken 
 from a cess or tax; which being by regular and moderate 
 rates, when anything via.s exorbitant it was said to be 
 out of all CMS.- WARBURTON. 
 
 " Cadshill."— Act 11. Sc. 2. 
 Gadshill, the scene of the robbery in this play, is on the 
 Kentish mad. Sleevens informs us, thai as early as 1558, 
 a ballad, entitled. The Robbery at Gadshill, was entered on 
 the books of the Stationers' Company. The poet, however, 
 on whom the more noted facts ot^ his time were never lost, 
 probably alluded to ihe conduct of a particular gang, who 
 appear, in 1.590, to have infested Gadshill and its neighbour- 
 hood with more than common boldness, and who, like our 
 author's robbers, were mounted and wore vizori. 
 
 BOSWELL. 
 
 " Look down into ihe Pomegranate."— .^.ct II Sc. i. 
 
 To have windows or loopholes looking- into the rooms 
 
 beneath them was, anciently, a general '^"*""i'™n;vENS 
 
 " Crystal-button."— .\ct II. Sc.4. 
 
 Pawnbrokers formerly v\ ore a peculiar dress, the buttons 
 
 of wh'ch were of crystal. '< A black tartata doublet, and a 
 
 spruce leather jerkin with crystal buttons. I inquired ol 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 817 
 
 what occupKHon : marry, sir, quotb he, a broker." — Grene's 
 Qoip for an Upstart Courtier. 
 
 " Caddis garter."— Act II. Sc. 4. 
 Caddis was a k.nd of coarse ferrett. In Shakspeare's 
 time, the fsr eri were worn in sight, and were often very 
 costly. He who wore a plainer sort was probably called 
 
 • caddis garter" in contempt. " At this day, (about 1625J 
 says the continuator of Slew's Chronicle, me/i of meune 
 ranke weare garters and shoe roses of more than five 
 pound pt ice." In a memorandum book kept by Henslowe, 
 step-father to thewifeof Alle\n the pla>er, is the following 
 item: "Lent unto Thomas Hewode, (the dramatic writer) 
 the I of September, 101)2, to bye him a payre of silver gar- 
 ters, a s. VI d."— MALONE, and STEEVENS. 
 
 * The slrappado.7— Act II. Sc. 4. 
 ' The strappado is when the person is drawn up to his 
 height, and then suddenly to let him fall half way with a 
 jerk, which not only breaketh his arms to pieces, but also 
 shakethall his joints out of joint, which punishment is bet- 
 ter for a man to be hanged than to undergo. — HANDLE 
 HOLME'S ACADEMY OF AllMES AND BLAZON. 
 
 • / could have crept into any alderman's thumb ring. " 
 
 Act II. Sc. 4. 
 An alderman's thumb ring is mentioned by Broome, in 
 The Antipodes, 1641. " Item, a distich graven in bis thumb 
 rinjr.* Again, in The Northern Lass, 1632. " A good man 
 in ine city, &c. wears nothing rich about him, but the gout 
 orathumb ring;" and in The Wit's Constable, 1640, "No 
 more wit than the rest of the bench ; what lies in his thumb 
 riny.'-SrEEVENS. 
 
 'A Welsh hook."— Actn.Sc. 4. 
 The Welsh hook was pointed like a spear, to push or 
 thrust with; and, below, had a hook to .seize the enemy, if 
 he should attempt to escape by flight.— WHALLEY. 
 
 ' Manningtree ox." — Actll. Sc. 4. 
 
 Manningtree in Essex, and its neighbourhood, are famous 
 for rich pastures. The farms are chiefly tenanted by 
 graziers. .Some ox of an unusual size was probably roasted 
 there on some occasion of public festivity, or exposed for 
 money to public show.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Hide thee behind the arras." — Act II. Sc. 4. 
 
 When arras was first used iu England, it vias suspended 
 on hooks driven into the bare walls ; this practice was soon 
 changed ; for after the damp of the wall had been found to 
 rot the tapestry, it was fixed on wooden frames, at such a 
 distance from the wall, as to prevent its being injured. In 
 old mansions, therefore, sulficient space could have been 
 easily found, to conceal even one of Faistafl's bulk. — 
 JtALONE. 
 
 • As if thou never walked'st further than Finsbury." 
 
 Act III. Sc. 1. 
 
 Open walks and fields near Chiswell-street, London- 
 wall, by Moorgate, the common resort of the citizens, as 
 appears f^om mauyof our ancient comedies. — STEEVENS. 
 
 « Holland of eight shillings an ell."~\ct III. Sc. 3. 
 Falstajps shirts, according to this calculali.jn, would 
 come to about 22s. each, and we l^aru from Stulib's Anato- 
 raie of Abuses, that the shirt of the meanest man cost st 
 least &s. He thus concludes his invective on this subject • 
 " Insomuch as I have heard of shirts that have cost some 
 tin shillings, some twenlie, some forlie, some/ltw pound, 
 some iwentie nobles, and (whiche is horrible to lieare) some 
 teti pound a piece, yeu the meanest shirt that commonly ia 
 worn of any doest cost a crovme. or a noble at the leasts 
 and yet this is scarcely thought fine enough for the simplest 
 personthat is. "—.VJ ALONE. . "^ 
 
 « Maid Marian."— Act III. Sc. 3. 
 It appears from the old play of Robert, Earl of Hunting- 
 don, 1601, that Maid Marian was originally a name assumed 
 by Matilda, the daughter of Robert, Lord Fitzwater, while 
 Robin Hood remained in a state of outlawry ; 
 
 " Next 'tis agreed (if thereto shee agree) 
 That f aire Matilda henceforth change her name i 
 And while il is the chance of Robin Huode 
 To live in Sherewodde a poore outlawes life, 
 She by maide Marian's name be only cali'd. 
 
 MAT. I am contented ; reade on. Utile John : 
 
 He7iceforth let me be nam'd maide Marian." 
 
 This lady was poisoned by king John, at Dunmow priory, 
 after he had made several fruitless attempts on her chastity. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 ' I saw young Harry vjith his beaver on."— Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 
 The beaver of a helmet is the lower part of it, adapted to 
 the purpose of giving the wearer an opportunity of taking 
 breath when oppressed with heat ; or, without putting off 
 the helmet, of taking his repast.— DOUCE. 
 " They'll find linen enough onevery hedge."— Act IV. Sc. 8. 
 
 This propensity of soldiers on a march to purloin, is no. 
 ticed by a writer contemporary with Shakspeare, Baroaby 
 Richesays: "Fyrsteby the way as they travayle through 
 the countrey where th--y chance to lye all night, the good 
 wyfe hath spedde well if she fynde hyr sheets in the morn- 
 ing, or if this happe to layle, yet a coverlet or curtena 
 from the bed, or a carpet from the table, some bed clothes, 
 or table napkins, or some other thing, must needs packe 
 away with them ; there comes nothing ajuisse if it will 
 serve to by drinke." — REED. 
 
 " Turk Gregory never did suck deeds inxirms." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 3. 
 Meaning Gregory VII , called Hililebrand. This furious 
 friar surmounted almost invincible obstacles to deprive the 
 emperor of his right of investiture of bishops, which his pre- 
 decessors had long attempted in vain.— WARBURTON. 
 " Jf Percy be alive, I'll pierce him."— Act. V. Sc. 3. 
 The name of Percy, according to Boetius. was derived 
 from piercinn the king's eye : a most extraordinary etymo- 
 logy.— SKINNER. ' ■* 
 
 RING HENRY IV. Part II. 
 
 • Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf. 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume." — Act I. Sc 1. 
 
 It may not be amiss to observe, that in the time of our 
 , poet, the title page to an elegy, as well as every interme- 
 diate leaf, was totally black, i have several in my posses 
 sion, written by Chapman, the translator of Homer, which 
 are ornamented in this manner. — STEEVENS. 
 
 • Fillip me with a three-man beetle." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 A diversion is common with boys iu Warwickshire, on 
 finding a toad, to lay a board, about two feet long, over a 
 stick about three inches in diameter, at right angles; then 
 placing the toad on the lower end of the board, the upper 
 end is struck by a bat or large stick, wliich throws the 
 reptile forty orlifty feet perpendicular from the earth, and 
 the violence of the fall usually kills it : thisiscalled^//i>;«^ 
 the toad. A three-man beetle was an implement used for 
 driving piles ; it was made of a log of wood about twenty 
 inches in diameter, and fifteen in thickness, with one short 
 and two long handles. A man at each of the long handles 
 manages the fall of the beetle, and a third man at the short 
 handle assists in raising it to strike the blow. Such an im- 
 plement was very suitable for filliping so corpulent a 
 •abject as Falstaff."—STEEVESS. 
 
 * A parcel gilt goblet ."-Act II. Sc. 1. 
 
 A 'parcel gill goblet" is a goblet gilt only on such parts 
 of it as are embossed. On the books of the Stationers' 
 Company, among their plate 1500, is the following entry: 
 " Item, nine spoynes of silver, whereof viigylte andiipar- 
 celgylte. "—STEEVENS. 
 
 * / must be fain to patvn my plate." 
 
 " Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking." — Act II. Sc. 2. 
 
 Mrs. Quickly is here in the same state as the carl of 
 Shrewsbury, who, not having been paid for the diet of 
 Mary, quetn of Scots, while she was in his custody in l.'jSO, 
 writes as follows to Thomas Bawdewyn : — " I wold have 
 you bye me glasses to drink in. Send me word what old 
 plat yelds the ounce, for I will not leve me « cuppe of 
 sylvare to drink in, but I wylle see the next terme my 
 creditors payde."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Boar's Head tavern in Eastcheap." — Act II. Sc. 4. 
 Tlie historical Sir John Fastolf was a considerable bene- 
 bictor to Magdalen College, Oxford, for which he is cele- 
 
 brated in an annual speech, and though we cannot obtain 
 the particulars at large, the Boar's Head, in Southwark 
 which still retains that name, though divided into tene- 
 ments, yielding .f 150 per annum; and Culdecct Manor, in 
 Suffolk, were jiart of the lands he bestowed. The Boar's 
 Head was very properly selected as the scene of Prince 
 Henry's revellings, as it was clo.se to his residence. Rymer 
 says: "A mansion called Cold Harbour, (near Allhallows 
 church. Upper Thames street,) was granted to the Prince 
 of Wales, 11th Henry IV. 1410" Shakspeare must have 
 passed this tavern daily, in his way to the Globe Theatre. 
 
 " Thou whorson little tidy Bartholomew boar pig " 
 
 Act II. Sc. 4. 
 From Ben Jonson's play of Bartholomew Fair, we learo 
 that it was the custom formerly to have booths in Bartho- 
 lomew fair, in which pigs were roasted, and to these, it is 
 probable, an allusion is here made STEEVENS. 
 
 « Do not speak like a death's head."— Act II. Sc. 4. 
 It appears from a passage in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, 
 1605, that it was the custom fur the bawds of that age to 
 wear a death's head in a ring, very probably with the com- 
 mon motto. Memento Mori. Cocledemoy speaking of some 
 of these, says: "As tor their death, how can it he had, since 
 their wickedness is always before their eyes, and h death's 
 head most commonly on their middle finger'" 
 
 STEEVENS 
 
 "Skogan's head."— Act III. Sc.2. 
 
 There has been much dispute about a John Scogan,vrho 
 
 lived in the reign of Edward IV., and a Henry Scogan, who 
 
 wrote some poetical trifles during the time of Heniv IV. In 
 
 a masque by Ben Johnson, 1620, we find the following : 
 
 " .... methinks you should enquire now after Skellon, 
 
 And master Scogan. 
 
 .... Scogan ? what was he ? 
 
 Oh, a fine gentleman, and a master of arts 
 
 Of Henry the Fourth's times, that made disguise* 
 
 For the king's sons, and writ in ballad royal 
 
 Daintily well." 
 
 Scogan's Jests were published bv Andrew Borde, a phy- 
 sician in the reign of Henry VIH. Shakspeare had prolnbly 
 met with this book ; and as he was careless about anachro- 
 
 ri2 
 
818 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 numts. this person might have been in his thoughts. Cer- 
 tainty, however, cannot be arrived at on such a subject. 
 " Harry ten shillbii/s."— Act III. Sc. 2. 
 
 This is an anachronism ; there were no coins of ten 
 shillin;>s value in the rerga of H-'iiry IV. Slinkspeare's 
 Harry ten skiUinfjs were those of Henry VII. or VIII : hut 
 he thought tho-ie might do foi any oiher Henry.— DOUCE. 
 " 7 was then SirDagnnet iiiArlhur's show." — Act III.Sc.2. 
 
 The story of Sir Dagonet is to be found in La Morte 
 d'Aithure, an old romance, much read in our author's time, 
 or a iitt;e before it. " When paiiistrv, (says Aschain,) as a 
 standing pool, overflowed all Eng'aud, few books weie read 
 incur tongue, saving certain books of chivalry, as they said, 
 for pastime and p'easnrc; which books, as some say, were 
 made in monasteries bv idle monks. As one for examjjle, 
 JLia Mor'e d'.\rthnre." in this roniiinceSir Dagonet is king 
 Arthur's fool. Sliak.speare would not have shewn hi< Jus- 
 tice capable of taking any higher charactcr.-^IOflNSON. 
 " Tiirnhull street."— Aft HI. Sc. 2. 
 
 TiirnbuU or Tiirmill-street, is near Cow Cross. West 
 Smithfield : it was infamous on account of the debauched 
 characters, of both sexes, with which it abounded. 
 
 " Philosopher's two stones." — Act III. Sc. 2. 
 
 One of which (says Warburton) was an universal medi- 
 cine, and the other a transmuter of base metals into gold. 
 This inteijprelation has been ridiculed, and various others 
 olfered. \Ve shall content ourselves with giving an extract 
 from a letter on the subject of the Grand Klixir, written by 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, to James I. " I confesse, so 
 long as he conseleil the meanes he wrought by, I despised 
 all he said : but when he told me that which he hath given 
 your soverainship to preserve you from all sicknes ever 
 hereafter, was extracted out of a I— d, I admired the fellow, 
 and for theis reasons : that being a stranger to you, yett he 
 hath found out the kind you are come of, and your natural 
 alfections and apetis : and so, like a skilful man, hath given 
 you natural fisicke, which is the onlie means to preserve 
 ihe ralical humours; and thus I conclude : My sow is 
 healthfiill, mydiviU's luckie, myself is happie, and needs 
 no mure than your blessing, which is my trcvi felosoph^^r's 
 stone, upon which I build as upon a rorke. Your maiesties 
 most humble slave and doge, — Sliiiie." — STEEVENS. 
 
 " }Vhose white investments figitre innocence." — Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 Formerly, nil bishops v^-nre while, even when they tra- 
 velled; hut ihe ivhile investment here meant must be the 
 episcopal rochet, which sho\ild be worn by the theatric 
 archbiahop.— GtlEY, and TOLLET. 
 
 " Ki-pl by a devil."— Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 It was anciently supposed, and is still a vulg.ir super- 
 stition of the east, that mines, containing precious metals, 
 ■were guarded by evil spirits. So, in certaine Secrete 
 Wonders of Nature, by Edward Fenton, 1509, " There 
 appears at tliis day many strange virions and wicked spirites 
 in the metal mines of the Create Turke. In the mine at 
 Annebu g was a metal sprite which killed twelve workmen ; 
 the same causing the test to forsake the myne, albeit it 
 wasi very riche."— STEEVENS. 
 
 '■' Therefore, thou bestofgokl, art worst of gold ; 
 Other, less fine in carat, is more precious. 
 Preserving life in med'cine potable."— Act IV. Sc. 4. 
 There has long prevailed an opinion, that a solution of 
 
 §old has great medicinal virtues, and that the incorrupti- 
 ilily of gold might l)e communicated to the body impreg- 
 nated with it. Some h ve pretended to make potable guid, 
 among other frauds practised on credulity. — JOHNSON. 
 " Laud be to God ! even there my life must. end." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 4. 
 " At length he recovered his speech, and nnderstanding 
 and perceiving himself to be in a strange place, which he 
 knew not, he willed to know if the chamber had any par- 
 ticular name, whereunto answer was mads that it was 
 called Jer^isatem. Then said the kins, Lauds be given to Ihe 
 Father of heaven, for now I know I shall die here in this 
 chamber, according to the prophesie of me declared, that 
 I should depart this life in J«frKs«/e;;i.-— HOLINSHED. 
 
 " If I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave 
 against an honest matt, I have very little credit with your 
 lordship."— Act V. Sc. I. 
 
 This is no exaggerated picture of the course of justice in 
 those days. The lord keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon, in his 
 
 speech to both honses of parliament, 1559, says : ■' la it no* 
 a monstrous disguising, to have a justice a maintaiuer, 
 acquitting some tor gain, enditing others lor malice, 6e«r- 
 iiiy with him as his serrani, overthrawiiig the other as bis 
 enemy?" A member of the house of commons in itiOl, 
 savs : "A justice of peace is a living creature, that for 
 half a dozen of chickens will dispense with half a dozen iif 
 penal statutes. If a warrant cnmes from the lord of the 
 council to levy a humlred men. he will evy two hundreu. 
 and wliat witli chnpi^ng in ami chusing out, he'll gain n 
 hundred pounds by the bargain: nay. he will write the 
 warrant himself, and you must put two shillings in his 
 pocket as his.clerk's fee, (when God knows he keeps but two 
 or three hiudes) for his better raainteuauce." 
 
 BLAKEWAY. 
 
 " With a dish of carraviays, and so forth." — Act V. Sc. .^. 
 
 It seems to have been usual to serve up carraway seedi 
 in sugar, as a part of the dessert. This custom is < vident 
 from a passage in CoRan's Ha\en of Health ; " This is a 
 contivmation of our use in England, for the serving of 
 apples and other fruites last after meals. How be it we are 
 wont to eat carrawies or biskets, or some other kind of 
 coTofits or seeds, together with apples, thereby to breake 
 winde engendered by them : and surely it is a very good 
 way for students."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " And welcome merry Shrovetide." — Act 5. Sc. 3. 
 
 Shrorelide was formerly a season of extraordinary sport 
 and fea.sting In the Romish church there was a (east 
 immediate y previous to Lent, which lasted many days. 
 In some cities of France, an officer was ani\ually chosen to 
 preside over the sports for six days before Ash Wednesday. 
 Some traces of these festivities may be still found in our 
 universities. In the Percy Household Bonk, lnl2. it appears, 
 "that the clergy and officers of Lord Percy's chapel per- 
 formed a plav befo-e his lordship upon Shrofwtewesday at 
 Bight."— T. WARTON. 
 
 " Vig me like 
 
 The bragging Spaniard." — .\ct V. Sc. 3. 
 
 To tig, in Spani.sh, higas dar, is to insult bti putting the 
 thumb helween the fore and middle finger. This phrase is 
 of Italian origin. Wlien the Milanese revolted against the 
 Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, they placed the Empress, 
 his wife, upon a mule, with her head towards the tail, and 
 ignotniniously expelled her their city. Frederick after- 
 wards besieged and took the place, and compelled every 
 one of his prisoners, on pain ot^ death, to take with his teelk 
 a fig from the posteriors of a mule. The parly was at the 
 same time obliged to repeat to the executioner the words, 
 " Ecco la flea! " (Behold the fig!) From this circumstance, 
 " /nr /« ./Sen" became a term ot derision, and was adoplei! 
 
 by other nations JOHNSON, and DOUCE. 
 
 " Censers." — Act V. Sc. 4. 
 
 Tlie sluttery of ancient houses rendered cmsers or nre 
 pans, in which coarse perfumes were burnt, most necessary 
 utensils. Lodge tells us, that Lord Paget's house w.is so 
 small, that " alter one month it would wax unsarernS'nr 
 hym to contj-nue in it." In a letter of the earl of Shreivs 
 bury's, respecting his prisoner Mary queen of Scots, we 
 read, " that her majesty was to be removed for fyve or 
 sixe dayes. to klense her chamber, being kept very un- 
 klenly." And in the Memoirs of Anne, Countess of Dorset, 
 we are informed of a party of lords and ladies, who " we-re 
 all Ifrwsv by sitting in Sir Thomas Erskin's chamber."— 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 " To pray for the 9K«^n."— EPILOGUE. 
 
 It was usual, at the end of a play, for the actors to pray 
 for their patrons. We will an give instance or two : 
 "Preserve ournoble queenElizabeth, and her councell all .' 
 
 New Custom. 
 
 " This shows like kneeling after the play ; I praying for 
 my lord Owemuch and his good countess, our honourable 
 lady and mistress." Middleton's Mad World my Masters. 
 " Asduty bids ns,for our noble gueene let us pray. 
 And for her honourable councel, the truth that they may 
 use, 
 To practtte justice, and defend her grace eche day ; 
 
 To maintaine God's word they may not refuse. 
 To correct all those that would her grace and grace's laws 
 
 abuse, 
 Beseeching God over us she may reign long, 
 To be guided by tnieth and defended from wrong. 
 
 Amen, q. Thomas Preston." Cambyses, 
 
 RING HENRY V. 
 
 " Gun-stones."—Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 When ordnance was tirst u.sed, they ilischarged balls, not 
 of iron, hut of stone. So, Holiiished: '* About seven of the 
 clocke, marched forward the light pieces of ordnance, with 
 stone and powder." In the Brut of England, it is said, that 
 when Henry V. before Hare flete, receued a taunting mes- 
 sage ffoin the dauphine of France, and a ton of tennis balls 
 by wny of contempt, " he aiione lette make tenes balles for 
 Ihfc Dol&ii tHenry's ship), in all the hayste that they 
 myghf.and (hey were great gonnestones for the Doltin (o 
 playe with alle. But this game of tennis was too rough for 
 the besieged, when Henry played at the tennis with his 
 hard ^on«ei/o/ie.t."— STEEVtNS. 
 
 "The man that was his heiifetlow." — Act II. Sc. 2. 
 
 Holinshed says: 'The said lord Scroop was in such 
 favour with Ihe king, that he admitted him sometime to be 
 bis bedretlvw." The familiar name of beiU'ellow, which 
 seems strange to us, was common with the ancient uobiiitr. 
 
 ' There is a letter from the sixth earl!of Northumberland, 
 (still preserved in the collection of the present duke,) ad- 
 dressed " To his beloved cousyn, Thomas Arundel." which 
 begins, "Bprf/eZ/ot/', after my mosthart6 reccmimendacion." 
 This unseemly custom continued common till the middle 
 of last centui-y, if not later. Cromwell obtained much of 
 his intelligence during t'.ie civil wars from the mean men 
 with whom he slept.— SI EEVENS, and MALONE. 
 
 " I saw him fumble with the sheets."— Act II. Sc..3. 
 Catching and pulling at the bedclothes has always been 
 considered as a sign o( approaching dissolution. Pliny in 
 his Chapter on the Signs bt Death, mentions, " afumbiing 
 and pleiting of the bed clothes." So also rn the Ninth Book 
 of Notable Things, by Thomas Lupton : " If the foreheade of 
 the sicke wax redde, and his nose waxe shatpe; if he puU» 
 straws, or the eJoathes of his hedde, these are most certain 
 tokens of death."— STEEVENS. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 819 
 
 " At hcrni/tff of the «rfe."— Act 11. Sc. 3. 
 ft has bcpn a very old npiiiion, whicli Mi-ad, de imperio 
 «o/ij, giH'ies, as if lie l)f licve'i it, that nobo ly dies but in the 
 time (;f ebl) : h ilf the deaths in Lcindnn confute the notion ; 
 •lut it was common in Shakspeaie's age — JOHNSON. 
 
 "/Ipix."— Act IIl.Sc.6. 
 In Henry \7I[ih's will, we read; " Forasmoch as we 
 have often and mnny tyiues to our inwarde regrete and 
 displeasure, seen at our Jcu, in diverse inmiie churches of 
 our reainp.the holie sacrament of the aulter kept in full 
 simple and inhonest pixes, specially pixes of copre and 
 tynibre : «■'• have appointed and cnramaunded the treasurer 
 of car chambre, and inaistre of nur juell houss, to cause to 
 be made furthwifh. pixes of silver and Rilt, in a great 
 nombre, furthekeepii g rf the bolie sacrnment ofthe aulter, 
 afer the faction of a pixe which w have caused to be de- 
 livered lo theim. Every of the said pixes to be of the value 
 of liiil. garnished with ourarraes, and rede roses and poart- 
 colis crowned."— RKED. 
 
 " A bfard of the general's cut."— Act III. Sc. 6. 
 It appears from an old ballad, inserted in a miscellany, 
 entitled Le Prince d'Amour, 8vo. I()60, ihat our ancestors 
 were very curious in the fashion of their beards, and that 
 a certain cnt or form was appropriated to the soldier, the 
 bishop, the judge, the clown. &c. The «pnrf«-beHrd and the 
 stiletto beard belonged to the military profession. The carl 
 of Southampton, our author's patron, who passed much 
 of his time in camps, is drawn with the latter of these 
 beards, and his haniess frieml, lord Essex, is represented 
 with the former. The ballad is worth transcribing ; 
 
 " Now of beards there be 
 Such a companie, 
 
 Ot fashions such a throng ; 
 That it is very hard. 
 To treat ofthe beard. 
 
 Though it be ne'er so long. 
 
 " The steeletto beard, 
 0, it makes me afeard. 
 
 It is so sharp beneath; 
 For he that duth place, 
 A dagger in his face. 
 
 What vjears he in his sheath ? 
 
 " The soldiers beard 
 Duth match in this herd. 
 In figure like a spade ; 
 With which he u-ill tnake 
 His enemies quake, 
 
 To think their grave is made." 
 
 Mj^LONE. 
 
 " The feast of Crispian."—A.ct IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 The battle ofAgincourt was fought upon the 25th ofOcto- 
 
 ber (1-115), St. Crispin's day. The legend upon \*hich this 
 
 il founded, follows: — " Crispinus and Crispianiis were 
 
 brethren, born at Rome; from wrieiice they travelled to 
 Soissons in France, about the year 303, to propagate the 
 Christian religion; but because tliey wouM not he charge- 
 able to othi rs f'lr their maintenance, thev exerci.sed the 
 trade of shoemakers ; hut the governor of the town dis- 
 covering them to be Christians, ordered them to be be- 
 headed. From which time, the shoemakers made choice of 
 them for their tutelar saints."— GKEY. 
 
 * This day shall gentle his condition."— Kct IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 King Henry V. inhibited any person but such as had 
 right by inheritance, or grant, to assume coats of arms, 
 except those who fought with him at the battle of Agin- 
 court, and these last were allowed the chief seats of honour 
 at all feasts and public meetings.— TOLLET. 
 
 " Thou hast unwish'd five thousand men." — .Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 The numbers engaged at the battle of Aaincourt are 
 variously stated ; Holinshed makes the English army consist 
 of 15,000, and the French of 00,000 horse, besides foot, in all 
 100,000; while Walsingham and Hardiiue represent the 
 English but as 9,000; and other authors say thai ihe number 
 of the French amounted to 150,000.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Monmouth caps."— Act IV. Sc. 7. 
 Monmouth caps were formerly much worn. " The best 
 caps (says Fuller, in his Worthies of Wales,) were former- 
 ly made at Monmouth, where the Cupper's chapel dofh 
 still remain. If (he adds) at this day, (1060) the phrase of 
 ' wearing a Monmouth rap,' be taken in a bad acception, I 
 hope the inhabitants of that town will endeavour to dis- 
 prove the occasion thereof." — MALONE. 
 
 " When Alencon and myself were down together." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 7. 
 This circumstance is not an invention of Shakspeare's. 
 Henry was felled to the ground at the battle of Agincourt, 
 by the duke of Alen9on, but recovered and slew two of the 
 duke's attendants. Afterwards, Alencon was killed by the 
 king's guard, contrary to Henry's inteiition, who wished to 
 have saved him.— MALON E. 
 
 " Davy Gam, esquire."— \ct IV. Sc. 8. 
 
 This gentleman being sent by Henry, before the battle, 
 to reconnoitre the enemy, and to find out their strength, 
 made this report :— ' May it please you, my liege, there are 
 enough to be killed, enough to be taken prisoners, and 
 enough to run awav." He also saved the king's life during 
 the engagement. — MALONE. 
 
 " Do we all holy rites."— Act IV. Sc. 8. 
 
 " Tlie king, when he saw no appearance of enemies, 
 caused the retreat to be blowen, and gathering his army 
 together, gave thanks to Almighty God tor so happy a vic- 
 tory, cau.sing his prela es and chapclines to sing this psalme, 
 In exifu Israel de Er/ypto ; and coinmaunding every man 
 to kneel downe at this verse, — Nun nobis, dumine, nun no- 
 bis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam ; which done, he caused Te 
 Deum and certain anthems to be sung, giving laud and 
 praise to God, and not boasting of his owne force, or au» 
 huinaine iiovver." — HOLINSHED. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. Part I. 
 
 " Hung be the heavens with black."— .\ct I. Sc. 1. 
 
 Alluding to our ancient stage practice, when a tragedy 
 was to be performed. So in Sydney's .Arcadia: "There 
 arose even with the sunne, a vaiie of darke clourles, before 
 his face ; which shorUy hid blackened over all the face of 
 heaven, preparing (as it were) a mournfull stage for a tra- 
 gedie to be played upon."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Sir John Fastolfe."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 
 The historical Fastolfe, here introduced, was a lieutenant- 
 general, deputy regent lo Ihe l)uke of Bedford, in Nor- 
 mandy, and a knight of the garter. Hall and Holinshed 
 say that he was degraded for cowardice ; but Heylin, in his 
 Saint George for England, tells, that " He was afterwards, 
 upon good reason by him alledged in his defence, restored 
 to his honour." "This Sir John Fastolfe," continues he, 
 "was, without doubt, a valiant and wise captain." 
 
 FARMER. 
 " England all Olivers and Rowlands bred "—Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 These were two of the most famous in the list of Charle 
 magne's twelve peers ; and such an extravagant detail of 
 their exploits is given by the old romancers, Ihat from 
 thence arose the saying, of ' giving one a Rowland for his 
 Oliver,' to signify Ihe -matching one incredible lie with 
 another."— WARBUKTON. 
 
 " Enter the Bastard of Orleans."— Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 Bastard, in former times, was not a term of reproach. 
 Bishop Hurd, speaking of the agreement between the 
 heroic and Gothic manner, says, that " Bastardy was in 
 credit with both;" and one of William the Conqueror's 
 charters begins," Ego Gulielmus. ci gnomento Bastardus." 
 (I, William, surnamcd the Bastard.)-VAILLANT. 
 
 " Here is my keen edg'd sword, 
 
 Derk'd lUith five flower de-luces on each side." Act [.Sc.2. 
 
 " lu a secret place t ere among old iron, appointed .she 
 hir sword to oe sought out and brought her, that with five 
 ftoure de luces was graven on both sides."— HOLINSHED. 
 
 " iVas Miihnmel inspired with a dove ?" — Act I Sc. 2. 
 
 Mah-imet had a dove, '' which he iiseil to feed with wheat 
 cut of his ear; whi h dove when it was hungry, lighted on 
 his shouiiler. and thrust its bill in to find its breakfast ; 
 Mahomet nersualed Ihe rude and simple Arabians, that it 
 was the Holy Ghost that gave him advice." — LIFE OF 
 MAHOMET, by Dr. PRIDiiAUX. 
 
 " This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, 
 Tu slay thy brother Abel, if' thou wilt."— Act I. Sc. \ 
 About four miles from Damascus is a high hill, reported 
 to be the same on which Cain slew his brother .<16e/ "— 
 
 POPE. 
 
 " The terror ofthe French, 
 
 The scare-crow that affrights our children so." 
 
 Act I. Sc. 4. 
 "This man (Talbot) was to the French people a very 
 scourge, and a daily terror, insomueh, that as his person 
 was fearful, and terrible to his adversaries, so his name and 
 fame was spiteful and dreadful to the common people ab- 
 sent ; insomuch that women in France to feare their yong 
 children, would crye. The Talbot commeth, the Talbot 
 commeth."-HALL'S CHRONICLE. 
 " Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens."— Act I.Sc. 6. 
 
 The gardens of Adonis, so frequently mentioned by Greek 
 writers, Plato, Plutarch, &c. were nothing but portable 
 earthen pots, with some lettuce or fennel growing in them. 
 On his yearly festival, every woman carried one of them for 
 Adonis's worship, because Venus had dree laid him in a 
 lettuce bed. The next day they were thrown away. It whI 
 be seen hv the text, that the pr.et has totally misapplied this 
 circumstance.- BENTLEY, &c. 
 
 " Rhodope."— Act I. Sc. 6. 
 
 Rhodope was a famous strumpet, who acquired immense 
 riches by her trade. The least, but most tinished of th« 
 Eeyi'tian pyramids, was built at her cost. She is said after- 
 wards to have married Psammeticbus, king of Egypt. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Coffer of Darius."— Act I. Sc. 6. 
 
 Wlien Alexander the Great took the city of Gaza, the 
 metropolis of Syria, amidst the other sports" and wealth of 
 Darius, treasured up there, he found an exceeding rich and 
 beautiful little chest or caske, and asked tho.se about him 
 what (hey thought lit est lo be laid up in it. When they 
 had severally delivered their opinions, he told them, he 
 es'eemed nothing so worthy to be preserved in it as Ho- 
 mer'sUiad —THEOBALD. 
 
 « The Parliament house."— Act III. Sc. I. 
 This parliament was held in MQ6, at Leicester, though 
 the author of this play has represented it to have been held 
 in London. King H«jiry was now in the fifth year of hi* 
 
830 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 age. In the first parliament which was held in London, 
 sfiortlj' Iter hisfnther's death, his mother Queen Katherine 
 brought (lie young kins from Windsor to the metropolis, 
 and sat on the ihroue of the parliament house with the 
 infant in her lap— MaLONE. 
 
 " 'thoti bastard uf my grandfathfr I'—Kcl III. Sc. 1. 
 The Bishop of Winchester was an illegitimate son of John 
 
 of Gaunt , Duke of Lancaster, by Katherinc Swynford, whon 
 the duke aftei wards married. — MALONE. 
 
 « Ye charming spells and periapts." — Act V, Sc. 3. 
 P«rjap<.« were portions of sciipture enclosed in baps of 
 silk or velvet, a-nd worn round the neck; tliey were some- 
 times quilted on parts uf the dress. They were esteemed 
 preservatives from disease. — STEiiVENS, &c. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. Part II. 
 
 "Margery Jottrdam.'—A.ct I. Sc. 2. 
 
 It appears from Rymer, that in the tenth year of Henry 
 VI. ilarfiery Jourdemayn. John Virley. clerk, and fnar 
 Jolin Asliweil. were, on the 9th of Way, 1433, brought from 
 Windsor by the constable of the castle, to which they were 
 committed for sorcery, before the counsel at Westminster, 
 and afterwards, by aii order of council, delivered into the 
 custody of the lord chancellor. The same day it was order- 
 ed by the lords of council, that whenever the said Virley and 
 Ashwell should find security for their good behaviour, they 
 should be si;t at liberty ; and in like manner, that Jourde- 
 mayn .should be discharged, on her husband's finding secu- 
 rity. Tins woman was afterwards burned in Smithfield. 
 
 DOUCE. 
 'A sand bag.'— A.ct 11. Sc. 3. 
 
 As, according to the old laws of duel, knights were to 
 fight with the laiioe and sword, so those of an inferior rank 
 fought with an ebon statfor battoon, to the farther end of 
 Which was fixed a bag crammed hard with sand. 
 
 WAtlBURTON. 
 
 "A cup of charneco." — Act It. Sc. 3, 
 
 »Some drinking the neatwiue of Orleance, some the Gas- 
 cony, some the Bordeaux. There wanted neither sherry, 
 sack, nor charner.o, maligo, nor amber coloured candy, 
 nor liquorice ipocras, brown beloved bastard, fat Alicant, 
 or anv quick spirited liquor." — THE BL.iCK DOG OF 
 NEWGATE, 1612. 
 
 " This knave's tongue begins to double." — Act. II. Sc. 3. 
 
 Hoiinshed's account of this combat between the armourer 
 and his man is curious : " In the same yeare also, a cerleine 
 armourer was appeached cf treason by a servant of his 
 owne. For preofc vvhi^reof a daie was giuen them to fight 
 , in Smithfield, insomuch that in conflict the said armourer 
 was overcome and slaine ; but yet by misgouerning of him- 
 self. For on the morrow when he should have come to the 
 field fresh and fisting, his neighbours came to him. and gaue 
 him wine and strong drinke in such excessive sort, that he 
 was therewith distempered, and reeled as be went ; and so 
 was slaine without guilte. As for the false servant, he liued 
 not lou3.» The original exchequer record of expenses at- 
 tending the combat has been preserved, from whence it 
 appears, that the armourer was not killed by his opponent, 
 but conquered, and immediately afterwards hanged. The 
 following is the last article in the account, and was struck 
 off by the barons of the exchequer, because it contained 
 charges unauthorised by the sherifl's ; — 
 
 "Also paid to officers for watching of ye 
 ded man ia Smith feUle ye same day and ye 
 nyghte after yt ye battail was doon, and (xjr 
 hors hyre for the officers at the cxecucioa 
 doyng.and for ye hangman's labour vjs. vid. 
 
 "Also paid for ye cloth yat lay upon ye ded 
 men in Smyth felde, \'n}d. 
 
 "AJso paid for 1 pole and naylis, and for 
 settyng up of ye said manuys bed on Lon- 
 don Bi-igge, V(/. 
 
 The sum lotal of expence incurred on this occasion was 
 ;eiO. I8s. arf.— STEEVENS. 
 
 * Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan." 
 
 Act HI. Sc. 2. 
 Bulleine, in his Bulwarke of Defence against Sicknesse, 
 speaking of mandragora, says,— "They doe affyrnie that this 
 herbe cometh of the seede of some convicted dead men, and 
 also without the death of some lyvinge thinge it cannot he 
 drawne out of the earthe toman's use. Therefore they did 
 tye somme dogge or other lyvinge beast unto the roote 
 thereof with a corde, and digged the earth in compasse round 
 about, and in the meane tyme stopped their own cares for 
 feare of the terreble shriek and cry of this mandrack. In 
 whych cry it dothc not only dye itselfe, but the feare thereof 
 kyllethtbe dogge or beast which pulleth it out of the parth.» 
 
 REED. 
 
 s. d. 
 SuniiXij.vii. 
 
 " IJ'tkou be'st death, I'll give thee England' » treasure." 
 
 Act HI. Sc. 3. 
 
 In Hall's Chronicle, Beaufort's last moments are thus 
 described : "During these doyngs, Henry Beauford, Uyshop 
 of Winchester, and called the riche cardynall, departed out 
 of thisworlde. This man was haunt in stomach and hygh in 
 countenance, ryche above measure of all men and to fewe 
 li'neral ; disdaynful to his kynne, and dreadful to his lovers. 
 His covetous insaciable and hope of lon^ lyfe made him bothe 
 to forget God, his prvuce, and hymselfe,in his latter dayes; 
 for Doctor John Baker his privie counsatler and his chnpel- 
 layn, wrote, that lying on his clerith bed he said these words : 
 ' Why should I dye, having so muche rychcs ? If the whole 
 realme would save my lyfe, I am abell either by policie to 
 get it, or by riches to buy it. Fje, will not death I)e hired, 
 nor will money do nothing ? When my nephew of Beilforde 
 died, I thought myself half up the whele, but when I saw 
 mine other nephew of Gloucester disceased, then I thought 
 myselfe able to be equal with kinges, and so thought to in- 
 crease my treasure, in hope to have worn a trypple croune. 
 But I see now the world tayleth me, and so I am decejrred; 
 praying you all to pray for me."— MALONE. 
 
 « The sea-shore near Dover."— \ct IV. Sc. 1. 
 
 "But fortune would not that this flagitious person (the 
 duke of Sufl'olk,) should so escape; for whenhe shipped into 
 Sufl"olk, entendynge to he tran.sported into France, he was 
 encountered with a shippe of warre aiipertaining to the 
 duke of Excester, the constable of the Towre of London, 
 called.the Nicholas of the Towre. The captain of the same 
 bark, with small fight, entered into the duke's shyppe, and 
 perceyying his person present, brought liim to Dover rode, 
 and there, on the one syde of a cocke-bote, caused his bead 
 to be stryken off, and left his body, with the head, upon the 
 sandes of Dover ; which corse was there found by a chape- 
 layne of his, and conveyed to Wyngfielde college in Sufiblke, 
 and there buried.'- HALLS CHRONICLE. 
 
 * This monument of the victory will I bear." — Act IV. Sc. 5. 
 
 " Jack Cade, upon his victory against the Staffords, ap- 
 parelled himself in Sir Humphrey's brigandine, set full of 
 gilt nails, and .so in some glory returned again towards 
 London."— HOLIiN SHED. 
 
 * The pissing-conduit run nothing but claret." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 
 This pissing-conduit was the standardf in Cheape, 
 which, as Stowe relates, " John Wels, grocer, niaior, 1430, 
 caused to be made with a small cesteme for fresh water, 
 having one cock continually running." — RiTsON. 
 
 " Set London bridge on fire." — Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 At that time, London bridge was made of wood. " After 
 that," says Hall, "he entered London, and cut the ropes 
 of the </r«tt'-bridge." In this rebellion, the houses on Lon- 
 don bridge were borut, audumuy of the inhabitants perished. 
 
 MALONE. 
 " That the laws of England may come out of your 
 mouth."— \ct.lV.Sc. 7. 
 
 Holinshed says of Wat Tyler, " It was reported, indeed, 
 that he should sale with great pride, putting his hand to his 
 lips, that within four days aW the laws of England should 
 comefoorth of his mouth." 
 
 " Matthew Gough."—kc.X IV. c. 7. 
 
 " A man of great wit and much experience in feats of 
 chivalrie, the which in continuallwarres had spent his time 
 in serving of the king and of his father."— HOLINSHED. 
 
 " Kent. Jden's garden.— \ct IV. Sc. 10. 
 
 " A gentleman of A'^nt, named Alexander £</eM, awaited 
 so his time, that he took the said Cade, in a garden in Sus- 
 sex, so that there he was slaine at Hothfield.'* 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 
 KING HENRY VI. Part III. 
 
 " stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas." 
 
 Actl. Sc. I. 
 The person here meant was Thomas Nevil, bastard son 
 to the Lord Faulconbridge ; " a man, "says Hall, "of no less 
 courage then audacitie, who for his euel condicions was 
 such an apt person, that a more meter could not be chosen 
 to set all the worlde in a broyle, and to put the estate of the 
 realm on an yl hazard." He was appointed by Warwick 
 vice admiral, and had in charge to keep the passage between 
 Dover and Calais. On Warwick's death he fell into poverty, 
 and robbed, both by sea and land, from friends and foes. He 
 once brouglit his ships up the Thames, and made a spirited 
 attack on the city. After a roving life, he ventured to land 
 at Southampton, where he was taken and beheaded. 
 
 RITSON. 
 Is he dead already ? Or is it fear 
 That makes him close his eyes ?" — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 " Whilst this battail was fighting, a priest called Sir Ro- 
 
 bert Aspall, chappcUaine and schole jnaster fo the Jonge 
 earle of Kutlande,ii sone to the above-named duke ofVoik, 
 .scarce of the age of xiiyeres, a fair gentleman, and a may- 
 denlike person, percyving that flyght was more sale gard 
 than tarrying both for hym and Ins master, secretly con- 
 veyed the crieout of the felde, by the lordCliffordi-'sbande, 
 toward the towne ; but or he could entre into a house, he 
 was by the sayd lord Cliftord espied, followed, and taken, 
 and by reason of his apparell, demanded what he was The 
 young gentleman, dismayed, had not a word to speke, but 
 kneled on his knees, imploring mercy, and desiring grace, 
 both with holding up his hands, and making dolorous coun- 
 tenance, /or his speache was gone for feare. 
 
 HALL'S CHRONICLE. 
 
 " Putting a paper crown on his head." — Act. I. Sc. 4. 
 
 " Some write that the duke was taken aliTe, and, in deri- 
 sion, caused to stand upon amvle hill; on whose bead they 
 put a garlande instead of a crowue, which they had fa- 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 891 
 
 shioned and made of seegcs or bulrushes ; and having so 
 crowned him with that garlande, they kneeled downe afore 
 him, as tlie Jews did to Chrisie in scorne, sayin? to him, 
 ' hdyle king without rule, haylr king without heritage, 
 hayle duke and prince without people or possessions.' And, 
 at length, having thus sconifd him with these and dyverse 
 other the like despiteful woordcs, they striioke oft' his head, 
 which (as ye have heard) they presented to the queen." 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 " Ofunth kis head, and set it on York gales ; 
 So York may overlook the town of J'orjt."— Act I. So. 4. 
 
 This gallant prince fell by his own imprudence, in conse- 
 quence of leading an army of only five thousand men to 
 engage with twenty thousand. He and Cecily his wife., with 
 his son Edmond.earl of Rutland, were originally burii'd in 
 the chancel of Foderingay church, ! nd (asl'eaiham informs 
 us in his Complete Gentleman, 1627), ' when the chancel, 
 in that furie of knocking churches and sacred monuments 
 in the head, was also felied to the ground," they were re- 
 moved into the church yard ; and afterwards " lapped in 
 lead; they were buried in the church, by the command- 
 ment of queen Elizabeth, and a mean monument of plais- 
 ter, wrought wi(h the trowel, erected over them, very 
 homely, and far unfitting so noble princes. I remember," 
 adds (lie same author, " master Creuse, a gentleman and 
 my worthy friend, who dwelt at the college at i he same time, 
 (old me, that their cottins being opened, their bodies ap- 
 peared very plainly to be discerned, and withal, that the 
 duchess of Cicely had about her ne<.ke, hanging in a silken 
 ribbande,a pardon from Rome, which, penned in a very line 
 Roman hand, was as faire and frcshe to be reade, as it had 
 been written yesterday." — MALON E. 
 
 " Do I see three suns ?" — Act II. Sc. I. 
 " At which tyme the son (as some write) appeared to the 
 erle of Marche'/jie three sunnes, and sodainely joyned al- 
 
 togither in one ; upon whiche sight liee took such courage, 
 that he, fiercely setting on his enemyes. put them to flight { 
 and for ihis cause mene yinagioed that he gave the sun in 
 his full brightness for his badge or cosuisance ' 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 " Sir John Gray."— Acl. III. Sc. 2. 
 Sir John Gray is here stated to have died fighting for the 
 house of York, than which nothing can be more opposed to 
 truth He fell in the second bat'tle of St. Albans, which was 
 fought on Shrove Tuesday Feb. 17, 1J60, fighting on the 
 side of king Henri/. In Richard HI. the manner of his 
 death is truly stated.— MALONE. 
 
 " I was not ignoble of descent." — Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 Lady Elizabeth. Edward IV. 's queen, was the daughter of 
 Sir Richard Widville aflerwardstarl of Rivers ; her mother 
 was Jaqueline, duchess dowager of Bedl'crd, who was 
 daughter to Peter of Luxer.iburgh earl of St. Paul, and 
 widow of John, duke of Bedford, the brother of Henry V. 
 
 MALONE. 
 " This pretty lad will prove our country's b/iss." 
 
 Act IV. Sc.6. 
 When Richmond, whose future grandeur is here prophe- 
 cied, became king, hisgratitiide to Henry VI. for his early 
 presage in his favour, made him solicit pope Julius to ca- 
 nonize him as a saint ; hut either Henry Vll. would not pay 
 the money demanded, or, as Bacon supposes, the pope re- 
 fused, lest " as Henry was reputed in the world abroad 
 but asa simple man, the estimation of that kind of honour 
 might be diminished, if there were not a distance kept be- 
 tween innocents ai,d snoj/i."— M.\LONE. 
 
 During the contest between the houses of York and Lan- 
 caster, sixteen battles were fought, and upwards of ninety 
 thousand persons were slain. This carnage, though con- 
 siderable, sinks into insignificance when we remember the 
 battles of Moskwa, Leipsic, and Waterloo. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 " He hearkens after prophecies and dreams."— \c,t I. Sc. 1. 
 
 " Some have reported, that the cause of this nobleman's 
 d'-ath (the duke ofCIarencf ,) rose of a foolish prophecie, 
 which was, that after king Edward, should raigne one 
 whose first letter of his name should bt- a G ; wherewith the 
 king and queen were sore troubled, and began to conceive 
 a gnevous grudge against this duke, and ciuiid not be quiet 
 till Ihey had brought him to his end "—HOLINSHED. 
 
 Some historians say, that when Clarence endeavoured to 
 obtain ill marriage Blary, the daughter and heiress of the 
 duke of Burgundy, his brother, king Edward, was dis- 
 pleased, because he wished to unite that laly with Rivers, 
 the queen's brother; and in this' way the breach between 
 the brothers has been explained. — MALONE. 
 
 " See ! dead Henry's wounds. 
 
 Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh." 
 
 Act I. Sc.2. 
 
 It is a tradition very generally received, that the mur- 
 dered boily bleeds on the touch of the murderer. This was 
 so much believed by Sir Kenelm Digby, that he has en- 
 deavoured to explain the cause. — JOHNSON. 
 
 " Pattern of thy butcheries." — .Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 " Tlie dead corps, on the A.scension even, was conveied 
 with bills and glaives, pompouslie, (if you will call that 
 a funeral pornpe) from the Tower of the church of Saint 
 Paule, and there laid on a beire or coffin b ire-facced; the 
 same in the presence of the beholders, did bleed, where it 
 rested the space of one whole dale. From thence he was 
 carried to Blackfriars, and bled theie likewise. 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 " Crosby place." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 Crosby-place is now Crosby square, in Bishopsgate- 
 street ; part of the house is yet remaining, and is a meet- 
 ing-place fot a presb\teiiaii congregation. This magnifi- 
 cent ni ision was built in theyear 14P6, by sir John Crosby, 
 grocer and wonlman. Sir J. Crosby's tomb is in the neigh- 
 bouring church of St. Helen the Great —STEEVENS. 
 " The Countess Richmond." — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 Margaret, daughter to John Beaufort, first duke of So- 
 merset, after the death of her first husband. Edmund 
 Tudor, earl of Richmond, half brother to king Henry VI, 
 by whom she had only one son, afterwards king Heniy VII.; 
 site married first sir Henry Stafford, uncle to Humphrey, 
 duke of Buckingham.— MALONE. 
 " yVerl thou not banished on pain of death .'" — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 Margaret fled into France after the battle of Hexham, in 
 1464, and Edward thereupim issued a proclamation, pro- 
 hibiting any of his subjects from aiding her (o return, or 
 harbouring her, should she revisit England. On the I4th ot 
 April, 1471, she landed at Weymouth. After the battle of 
 Tewsklniry.in thesaineyear, she was confined in the Tower, 
 where she continued till 1475, when .she was ransomed by 
 her father Regnier, and removed to France, where she 
 died in I4S2. Ifhc present scene is in 1477. so that her ap- 
 pearance here is a mere poetical fiction. — MALONE. 
 
 " Your brother Gloster hates you." — Act I. Sc. 4. 
 Gloster hated Clarence, becau.se he would not share with 
 him that moiety of the e.state of the great earl of Warwick, 
 to which Gloster was entitled on his marriage with the 
 younger sister of the duchess of Clarence, lady Ann Neville 
 who had htjen b-trotlied to Edward, prince of Wales. This 
 seems proved by a lettei' from Sir John Paston to his bro- 
 ther, dated Ft-b. 14, 1471: " Yesterday, the king, the 
 queene, my hirdsof Clarence and Gloster, went toShene 
 to pardon; men say, not all in charity. The kiug en- 
 
 treatelh my lord of Clarence for my lord of Gloster; and 
 as it is said, he answerelh, that he may well have my lady 
 his sister in law, but ihey shall part no livelihood, as he 
 saith ; so what will fall can I not say. "—MALONE. 
 " Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber ." 
 
 Act III. Sc. 1. 
 
 London was anciently cal'ed Camera Regis. So in Key- 
 word's If you know not Me, you know Nobody, 1633 : 
 " This city, our great chamber."— VOVE. 
 
 " Enter Buckingham."— Act III. Sc. 2. 
 
 The festing remarks here given to Buckingham were 
 It-ally made by Sir Thomas Howard, afterwards intro- 
 duced in this play as earl of Surry. " The same morning 
 ere he (Hastings) were up from his bed, where Shore's 
 wife lay with him all night, there came to him sir Thomat 
 Haward, [Howard] sonne to the lord Howard, as itwfr* 
 of courtesie, to accompaignie him to Um counsaill; but 
 furasmuche as he the lord Hastings ^nM not readie, he 
 taried awhile for him, and hasted him away. This sir 
 Thomas, while the lord Hastings stayed awhile com- 
 munyng with a priest whom he met in the Tower strete, 
 broke the lord's tale, saying to him merrily, 'What, my 
 lord, I pray you come on, wherefore talk you so long with 
 the priest? you have no need of a priest yet; and laughed 
 upon him, as though he would saye, you shall'have nede of 
 one soone." Continuation of Harding's Chronicle. 
 « Bishop if Ely."— Acl III. Sc. 4. 
 
 Dr. John Morton, elected bishop of Ely in 1478, advanced 
 to the see of Canterbury in 1486, appointed lord chancellor 
 in 1487, died in I5IM). He deserves the gratitude of pos- 
 terity as having first suggested a marriage between Henry 
 VII. and Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of Edward IV., 
 which union terminated the long and bloody contest be- 
 tween the hou.ses of York and Lancaster.— MALONE. 
 ' Put to death a citizen."— Acllll. Sc. 5. 
 
 This person was one Walker, a substantial citiaen and 
 grocer, at the Crown, in Cheapside. — GREY. 
 
 " Baynard's Castle."— Acl III. Sc. 5. 
 
 It was originally built by Baynard, a nobleman, who, 
 according to Stowe, came in with the Conqueror. This 
 edifice, which stood in Thames street, has long been pulled 
 down, though part of its strong foundations are still visible 
 at low water. The site of it is now a timb' r vard. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Doctor Shaw."— Act II. Sc. 5. 
 
 Shaw and Penker were two popular preachers. Instead 
 of a pamphlet being published to furnish the advocates of 
 the administration with plausible arguments on great po- 
 litical mea.sures it was formerly usual to publish the 
 court-creed from the pulpit of Saint Paul's cross. As 
 Richard now employed doctor Shaw to support his claim 
 to the crow n, so about fifteen years before, the great earl 
 of Warwick employed his chaplain, doctor Godard, to 
 convince the people that Henry VI. ought to be restored, 
 and that Edward IV. was an usurper. — MALONE. 
 " The brats of Clarence."— Act III. Sc. 5. 
 
 Edward, earl of Warwick, who, after the battle of Bos- 
 worth, was sent, by Richmond, to the Tower, without even 
 the sliadnw of an allegation against him, and executed, 
 with equal injustice, on Tower-hill. Nov. 21, 14119; and 
 Margaret, afterw ards married to sii Richard Pole, the last 
 princess of the house of Lancaster, who was restored to her 
 honours in the fifth year of Henry VIII. and in the thirty- 
 first year ofhis reign, (l.')40,) at the age of seventy, was put 
 to death by that sanguinary tyrant . The immediate cuose 
 
■sn 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 of Warwick's being put to death was, that the king of 
 Spain woulil not marry his daughter Katherine to Arthur, 
 prince of Wales, during his life tiire. Tliis murder (for it 
 fleserves no other name,) made such an impression on Ka- 
 Iheriiie, that when she was informed of Henry's intention 
 to repudiate her, she exclaimed, " I have not oft'ended.but 
 it isa just judgment of God, for my tirst marriage was made 
 iu blood."— MALONE. 
 
 " Withhis contract with Lady Lucy."— Act III. Sc. 7. 
 
 I'he king had been familiar with this lady before his mar- 
 riage, to obstruct which, his mother alleged a prccuutract 
 between tliem : Whereupon dame Elizabeth Lucy was sent 
 for, and albeit she was by the kyng his mother, and many 
 other, put in goode comfort to athrme that she was assured 
 to the kynge, yet when she was solemnly sworn to saye the 
 truth, she confessed she was never eusured. Howbeit, she 
 sayed his grace spake such lovyinge wordcs to her, that she 
 verily hopedhe woulde have married her, and that yf suche 
 1 ii;de wordes had not bene, she would never have shewed 
 such kindiiesse to hym to h t hym so kyudely gette her with 
 cbylde."— HALL'S CHRONICLE. 
 " 0, would to God, that the iiiclnsivf verge 
 Of golden metal, that must round my brow, 
 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 Were red hot-steel, to sear me to the bt ain.' 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 1. 
 
 An allusion to the ancient mode of puni.'>hii!g a regicide, 
 or any other egregious criminal, by placing a crown o/ 
 iron, hfatrd red hot, upon his head.— MALONE. 
 
 " The earldom of Hereford."— Act IV. Sc. 2. 
 
 ^hakes^)eare makes Richard refuse to grant the Hereford 
 estate lo Buckingham, and their quarrel is the consequence 
 in (he tragi iy. This is contrary to the truth of history. 
 Burkingliam actually obtained from Rirha d III. when lie 
 usuiped the throne, the earldom of Hereford, and the 
 office of constable of England, which had long been an 
 nexcd by inheritance to that earldom — MALONE. 
 
 " Lest, beiny seen, thy brother, tender George, 
 Be executed.'' Act V. Sc. 3. 
 
 " The lord S'anley lodged in the same town, (Stafford) 
 and hearing that the earle of Richmond was marching thi- 
 therward, gave to him place, dislodging him and his to 
 avoide all suspicion, being afraide least being seen openly 
 to be a factor or ayder to the earle, his son in-law, before 
 the dayof battyle, that king Richard, which yet not utterly 
 put him in diilitlence and mistrust, would put to some evil 
 death his son and heir apparent." — UOLINSHED. 
 
 " Butcher's cur."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 When the duke of Buckingham's death was reported to 
 the emperor Charles V. he said. " The first buck of England 
 WHS worried to death by a butcher's dag." — STEEVENS. 
 " The duke beiny at tkerose." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 niis house was purchased about the year 15t)l, by Richard 
 It. II, sometime master of the Merchant- Tailors' Comi>»ny, 
 and is now the Merchant-Tailors' School, in Suffolk lane. 
 
 WHALLEY 
 
 " Leave these remnants 
 
 Of fool, and feather." Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 "At that time (in the court of Henry VIII.) I was no 
 common squire, no under trodden torch bearer ; I had my 
 leather in my cap as big as a flag in the foretop, my 
 I'rench doublet gelt iu the belly, as though (lik.^ a pig 
 leadie to be spilled ) all my guts had been plucked out ; 
 R paire of side-iianed hose that hung down like two scales 
 tilled with Hollaiid cheeses ; my long stock Ihat sate close 
 Id mv dock, my rapier pendent like a round slicke, &c. ; 
 my blacke cloake of black cloth, ouerspreadi.ig my backe, 
 lyke a thornbacke on an elephant's eare ; and in con 
 summation of niy curiositie, my handes without gloves, 
 ail a more Frem h." 
 
 NASHE'S LIFE OF JACKE WITTON, 1594. 
 
 " Enter the King, and twelve others, as maskers." 
 
 Act I. Sc. 4. 
 
 "Before the king began to dance, they requested leave 
 to accompany the ladies at mumchance. Leave being 
 granted, i hen went the masquers and tirst saluted all the 
 dames, and then returned to the most worthiest, and then 
 opened the great cup of gold, filled with crowiies and 
 other pieces, to cast at. Thus perusing all the genile- 
 women, of some Ihey wonne, and to some they lost. And 
 having viewed all the ladies, they returned to the cardinal 
 with great reverence, pouring downe all their gold, which 
 was above two hundred crowns. At all. quoth the car- 
 dinal, and casting the liie, he won it: whereat was made 
 great joy.'— CAV ENUISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY. 
 
 " 1 viere unmannerly to take you out, 
 And not to kiss you." Act 1. Sc.4 
 
 A kiss WPS iinciently the established fee of a lady's 
 partner. So, in A Dialogue beuveeu Custom and Veritie, 
 OTi the Use and Abuse of Dauncing and Minslrelsie, no 
 date, "imprinted at London, at the long .shop, adjoining 
 unto Saint Mildr'eds church in the I'ultrie, by John Allde," 
 we lind ilie following stanza; 
 
 " But some reply, what foole would daunce, 
 
 IJ' that when daiince is dooii. 
 He may not have at ladi/'S lippes 
 
 That which in daunce he ifO(//< .?»— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Your grace, 
 
 I fear, with dancing is a little heated.— Act I. Sc. 4. 
 The king, on being discovered, and desired by Wolsey to 
 tale his place, said that he would" tirst go and shift him; 
 and. thereupon, went into the cardinal's bed chamber, 
 where was a great fire prepared for him, and there he new 
 appareled himself with riche and princelie garments. And 
 in the king's absence the di.shes of the banquet were cleaue 
 taken away, and the tables covered with new and perfumed 
 Clothes. "Then the king took his seat under the cloath of 
 estate, command ng every person lo sit still as before, and 
 men lame in a new banquet before his majestie of /i«o 
 hundred dishes, and so ihey passed the night in banqueting 
 and dancing till moi-ning." 
 
 CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY. 
 
 " Norfolk opens a folding duor : the king is discovered 
 tilting, and reading pensirely. .\ct H. Sc. 2. 
 
 ^ The stage direction in the o'd copy is a singular one. 
 " Exit lord Chumberlain , and the king drmis the curtain, 
 and tils readin,! iien>.i>'ely ;" and it will enable us to as- 
 certain prrci.sely the slate if the Ihealie in Shiikspeare's 
 lime. V\ hei> a person was to be discovered in a ditterent 
 apartmeut from that in which the original speakers in the 
 •cene are exhibited, the method was tn place such person 
 iu the hack part of the stage, behind the curtains which 
 were, occasionally, suspended acros.s it These the person 
 
 who was to be discovered (as Henry in the present case,) 
 drew back just at the tit moment. Rowe, looking no fur- 
 ther than the modern stage, changed the directii n thus: 
 " The scene opens, and discovers th-' king " &c. hut besides 
 the folly of iiitrodiiriiig scenes when there were none, such 
 an exhibition would be improper, for Norfolk has just said 
 "Let'sin," and, therefore, should himself do some act in 
 order to visit the king. This indeed, in the simple state of 
 the old stage, was not attended to; the king, very civilly, 
 discovering himself— MAhO'SE. ■• 
 
 " That he ran mad and died."— Act II. Sc. 2. 
 " Aboute this time the king received into favour Dr. Ste- 
 phen Gardiner, whose service housed in matters of great 
 secrecieand weighte, admitting him iu ilie roi me o{ doctor 
 Pace, thewhicli, being contiuually nbrcde in ambassades, 
 and the same oflentymes not much necessaiie, by the car- 
 dinalle's appointment, at lengthe he toeke such greefc 
 therewithe, that he fell out of his right w iltes." 
 
 UOLINSHED. 
 " Two gentlemen, bearing two great si ver pillars. 
 
 AciII. Sc.4. 
 Wolsey had one pillar borne before him as cardinal, and 
 another as legate. So in The Treatous, an ancient satyrical 
 poem, by William Roy : 
 
 " With worldly pompe incredible. 
 Before him rydeth two prestes strange ; 
 And they bear Itvu crosses right lonye, 
 
 Gapynge in every man'sface : 
 After them folowe two laye men secular. 
 And each ol'theym holdyn a pilliir. 
 In their hondes sleade of a matr."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " The queen, and some of her women, at work " 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Sc.l. 
 
 
 Her majesty, (says Cavendish,) on being informed that 
 the Cardinals were coming to visit her, " rose up, having a 
 skein of red silke about her necke, being at work with Iter 
 maidens." Cavendish attended Wol.sey, on this visit, ami 
 the Queen's answer in the play is exactly conformable to 
 that w liich he has recorded, and v( hich he appears to have 
 heard her pronounce." — MALONE. 
 
 " 0, good my Lord, no Latin." — Act III. Sc. 1. 
 " Til en begane the cardinall to speake to her in latine. 
 Naie, goodmy lord, (quuthshe,) speak tome in English." 
 
 HOLINSHED. 
 " Worse than the sacring bell."— Act III. Sc. 2. 
 T\\e little bell which is rung to give notice of the host ap- 
 proaching, when it is carried in procession, as also in other 
 offices oflhe Romi.sh church, is called till- .■.rrcring, or con- 
 secration bell ; from the French word, sacrer " 
 
 THEOBALD. 
 
 " Ipswich. '•- Act W. Sc.2. 
 
 * Tlie foundation-stone of the college, which the cardinal 
 founded in this place, was discovered a feiv \ ears sgo. It 
 is now in the chapter house of Christ church, Oxf- rd." 
 
 SEWARD'S ANECDOTES. 
 
 " You'd spare your spoons "—ActV. Sc. 2. 
 
 It was the custom, 'ong before Shakspeare's time, for (he 
 sponsfirs at christenings t" otter giit spoons as a present to 
 tne child. These spoons were called apostle sfooiis, because 
 the figures of (he apostles were carved on (he handles Such 
 as were opulent and generoiisgave the wh de tireive ; (hose 
 who were less rich or libeiai escaped at the expense of the 
 four evangelists- and some ga\e one sjioon only, which 
 ei.hibited the *igure id' tie saint in honour of whom the 
 child was named -STEEVENS. 
 
 " Paris garden." — Act V. Sr. 3. 
 
 This celebrated /Jenr (?«rrfen. on the Fankside, was sc 
 callsd from Robert de Paris, who had a hut lionse and 
 garden tV.er- in the time of Richard II. The globe theatre, 
 jn whith Shakspeare was an actor, slot d on the srutbern 
 side of (he Thames, and was configui us to (his noted 
 place of tumult. [See the Account of the Theatres in 
 SUakst eare s Time, in the former part of this vuiumej 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 OILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 
 823 
 
 • Thou stool for a witch."— Act II. Sc. I. 
 
 In one Why of in'i'iR *» wilch, they used tojiliice lier on 
 ncii«iror si (ml. wiihlii^r legs tied across, that all the wciglit 
 if tier t>odv might rest upiin her seat, and by that means, 
 a.'ifr some tiine, the circulation of the blood would be iimch 
 siui'iied, iiid her aittiiig would be as painful as the wooden 
 li.irse.— OkfiY. 
 
 •■' T/ie elephant."— Xct II. Sc. 3. 
 
 ft was ati old opinion that f/Vy'/fiTH/.t had no joints. Hence, 
 in The Dialogues of Cri-aturesMijral>^ed, mi-ntioii is made 
 ij" the olefawnte that bowyih 'it't the kiii-vs;" a curiou.s 
 specimen of our earlj natural history. — STfiEV'ENS. 
 
 " the rieath-lokens of it 
 
 Cry, Nil recovery." Act II. Sc. 3. 
 
 Dr. Hodges, in his Treatise on the Plagne, says, " Spots 
 "fa dark coniplexinn, usually lalled lukens, and lookrd on 
 ksthe pledges nrforewarningsofi/p^M. are minute and dist- 
 inctblasts, which have tluir original tromwithin. and rise up 
 with a lillle pyramidal protuhcrarice, the pestilential poi- 
 son chiefly coUfCied at their liases, tainting the neigh- 
 bouring parts, and reaching to the surface.'" — REblD. 
 
 " AV/-P this sleeve."— Act V, Sc. 8. 
 
 The custom ofwearing a lady's sleeve fora favotirisaen- 
 tioned in Hall's Chronicle : '^ One ware on his head-pieco 
 his lady's .t/f«;f, and another hare on his heline the RJnv» 
 of his deareling.''-STEEVENS. 
 
 " The dreadful sagillary.'—Aci V. Sc. 5. 
 
 " Beyonde tlie royalme of Amasonne came an auncyent 
 kynge, wyse and dyscreete, named Epystrophis. ami 
 brought a » knyghtes, and a mervallouse besle thn was 
 called sugUlayre, that behynde the middes was an horse, 
 and 10 fore a man; this beste was hecry like an horse, 
 and liad his eyn rede as a cole, and sholte well with a 
 bowe: this beste made the Grekes sore aferde, and slew 
 many of them with his biwe." 
 
 THE THREE DESTRUCTIONS OF TROIE, 
 " Some galled goose of Winchester."— Ad V. Sc. II. 
 
 As the public stews were under the controul of the6i«Ao/> 
 of Winchester, a strumpet was called a Winchester laose, 
 and A galled Winchester goose may mean, either a strumpet 
 afflicted wilh disease, or one that felt oft'enUed by the re- 
 marks of Fandaius in the play MASON. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 " In a tcide sea of wax." — Act I. Sc. 1. 
 Anciently thoy wrote upon waxen tables with an iron 
 siyle.-HANMhMl. 
 
 " Methinhs they should invite them without knives." 
 
 Act I. Sc. 2. 
 It was the custom in our atithor's time for every guest to 
 bring his own knife, whicli he occasionally whetted on a 
 stone that huus behind the door. Om- of Ihe.se whetstones 
 may be seen iu Pui kinson's Museum. They were strangers, 
 at tliflt period, to the use of forks. — RIX'SON. 
 
 "So soon as dinner's done we'll forth again." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 2. 
 
 It may here be noticed, that in Shakspeare's day, it was 
 usual Lo liuut as mcII iifrer dinner, as before. Thus, in 
 Laneham's Account nf the Enterlaiumi.nt at Kenelworth 
 Castle, we find that Queen Elizabeth always, while there, 
 hunteU in the afternoon. '" iMomiay «as hot, and tlierelore 
 hor highness kept in till fire o'clock in lite evening, what 
 time it pleased her to ryd for h into the chase ; to hunt the 
 b.irte 01 fors ; which found anoue, and after sore chased, 
 &,c.— REED. 
 
 " I dreamt of a silver bason ami ewer to-jiigkt." 
 
 Act HI Sc. 1. 
 
 A basin and ewer Mere things of impnrinnce fonnerlv. 
 They were usually of silver, and probably very costly, 
 workmanship was bestowed upon th>-m, as they were exhi 
 bited to ihe guests br-fore and after dinner, it being the 
 faiihion to wash at both those time*. In The Retiirne from 
 Parnassus, we have the following passage ;— " Immerito 
 
 his gifts have appeared in as many cnlotirs as (heravnbow; 
 tiisi, to mais'.er Amoretio, in colours of the s.-tti'iie suit 
 he weares ; to my lady in the similitude of a loose gowne ; 
 to my maister in the likeness of a silver bason and ncrr •' 
 
 MA LONE. 
 
 " L?.t molten coin be thy damnation." — Act III. Sc. 1. 
 
 In Tlie Shepherd's Calendar, Lazarus declares himself 
 to have seen in hell " a great number of wide caaMron.^ 
 and kettles, full of boyliug lead aid ovle. wilh other hot 
 metals molten, in the which were plunged and dipped the 
 covetous men aud women, for to In lili and replenish them 
 of their insatiate covetise." — STEEVEN:S. 
 " Enter — Phrynia." 
 
 Phrynia was an Athenian courtezan, so exqui'iitely 
 beautiful, that when her judres were proceeding to con- 
 demn her for numerous and enormous offences, a sight of 
 her bosom (which, as we learn from yuintilian, had been 
 artfully denud. d by her advocate,} disarmed the court of 
 its severily, and secured her life from the sentence of the 
 law.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " The unicorn ."—kct IV. Sc.3. 
 
 Tlie account of Ihe uniconi is this : That he and the lion 
 being enemifs by nature, as soon as the lion sees the 
 unicorn, he betakes himself to a tree ; the unicorn in his 
 fury, aud with all the swiftness of his course, running at 
 him, shcks his born last in the tree, aud then the linn tails 
 upon him a)id kills him.— GESNER'S HISTOR'ir OP 
 ANliVLVLS. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 " Brovis bcmnd with oak." — Act I. Sc. 3 
 The crown given by tho Romans to him who saved the 
 life of a citizen, which was accounted more honourable 
 than any other, was composed of oak leaves. — JOHNSON. 
 
 " Those centuries." — .\.ct I. Sc. 7. 
 Centuries were companies, each consisting of a hui^dred 
 men.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Towards the napes of your yiecks." — Act II. Sc. 1. 
 In allusion to the fable, which savs, that every man has 
 a bag hanging before him in which lie puts his m izhbour's 
 fiiults, and another behind him, in which he stows ins own. 
 
 JOHNSON. 
 " The kitchen malkln.— Act 11. Sc. 1. 
 A maukin, or malkiu, is a kind of mop made of clouts for 
 
 tlie use of .sweeping ovens; thence a frightful figure of 
 clouts dressed up ; thence a dirty wench —H.iNMER. 
 " The breath of garlick eaters."— Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 To smell of garlick was once such a brand of vu garity, 
 that garlick was a food foibiddrn to an anciAnl order ol 
 Spanish knights, menlioned by Guevara.— JOHNSON. 
 " As is the os/>rey." — Act IV. Sc. 7. 
 The osprey is a rare, large, blackish hawk, with a long 
 neck and blue legs. It commonly feeds on lish. 
 
 STEKVENS 
 " To have a temple built you." — Act V. Sc. 3. 
 Plutarch informs us, that a temple dedicated to the For- 
 tune of lire Ladies, was built on this occasion by order 
 of the srnate.— STEEVENS. 
 
 JULIUS CiESAR. 
 
 " That unicorns may be betrayed with trees. 
 And bears with glasses, etrphctuts wilh holes." 
 
 Act II. Sc. I. 
 
 Unicorns are said to have been taken by one, who, 
 runnin; behind a tree, eluded the violent push the animal 
 was making ai him, so that his honi spent its force on the 
 trunk, and stuck fast, detaining the lieasl till he was dis 
 patched by Ihe hunter. Be us were suipriseil by me.iiii of 
 a mirro'', which they would gize on, ad.irding their pur 
 Buers an opportunity of taking a surer aim. Elephants 
 were seduced into pilfulls, lightly covered with hurdles 
 
 and turf, on which a proper bait to tempt them '^as ex- 
 posed.— STE LVENS. 
 
 ■■ When beggars die, there are no comets seen ; 
 Tlie heavens themselves blaze forth the death or princes " 
 
 Act I'. Sc.2. 
 This misjht have been suggested by what Suetonius says 
 of (he blazing star, which api eared for .seven days t'u-ether, 
 during Uie celeb;T,tion of games instituted bv Augusrus 
 in hi'Uoiir of Julius. The common (le.ple b-'lievcd thst 
 the comet indicated his reception ainoiig the gods. 
 
 DOCCE. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 " Like the courser's hair." — Act I. Sc. 2. , 
 
 Holin.shed says, " a. horse haire laid in a full [isle of the 
 like water will in a short time stirre and become a living 
 creature. But siili the certalntie of the^e things is rather 
 proved by few."— STKEVENS. 
 
 •' Gilded puddle."— kci I. Sc. 2. 
 There is frequently observable on the sulfate of stagnant 
 pools, that have remained long undisturbed, a reudish 
 gold coloured slime : to this appearance the poet heie 
 ceforsv-sHENLEV. 
 
 " .Uandragora."— Act I. Sc. 5. 
 Gerard, in hi.s Herbal, says of Ihe mandragoras ;— 
 " D oscorides dothe parliculariy set downe many farultie 
 hereof, of which notwithstanding there be none proper 
 iinio it, sa\e Iho.se that depend upon the drowsie and 
 sleeping po'.\er thereof." — PERCY. 
 
 " T/l'i! areal medicine halh 
 With his linct yiJded Ihee."— Act I. Sc. 5. 
 Alluditig to the philosopher's stone, wh;ch, bv its lotirb, 
 converts ba.se metal into gold. The aiciu mists call the 
 
824 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 matter, whatever it be, by which they perform transmuta- 
 tion, a ?»«■(/(«?(«.— JOHNSON. 
 
 " /'// set thee in a shower of gold, and hail 
 Rich pearls upon lAee.—Act II. Sc. 5. 
 Xt is an eastern rereiiiony, at the coronation of their 
 k)£S3, to powder them with gold dust and seed pearl. 
 
 WARBURTON. 
 " A certain queen to Casar in a mattress." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 6. 
 
 " Cleopatra trussed up in a matlrasse, and so brought 
 (0 Caesar, upon Avollodorus backe." 
 
 NORTHS PLUTARCH, 1579. 
 
 " The goddess /sis."— Act HI. Sc. 6. 
 " Now for Cleopatra, she did not only weare at that time 
 (but al other times els, when she came abi oad) the apparell 
 of the yoddesse Uis, and so gaue audience vuto all her 
 suluects, as a new Isis."— NORTHS Pi^UTARCtl. 
 
 " Whom leprosy overtake.' — Act IH. Sc. 8. 
 Pliny, who says, the xcUite leprosy, or elephantiasis , was 
 
 not seen in Italy before the time of Pompey the Cretit, 
 adds, it is " a peculiar maladie, and natural/ to the Egyp- 
 tians ; but looke when any of their kiugs fell into it, woe 
 wortli the subjects and poor people: for then were l he 
 tubs and bathing vessels wherein ihey sale in the baine, 
 tilled >vith men's bloud for their cure."— REED. 
 
 * Jt was a king's."— \ct IV. Sc. 8. 
 * Then came Antony again to the palace greatly boastini; 
 of this victory, and sweetly kissed Cleopatra, armed as he 
 was when he came from the fight, recommending one of his 
 men of arms unto her, that had valiantly fought 'n this 
 skirmish. Cleopatra, to reward his miinliiiess, gave him au 
 armour and head piece of clean gold.''—NORTH'S PLIJ- 
 TARCH. 
 
 « The pretty worm of Nile."— Act V. Sc. 2. 
 Worm is the Teutonirk word for serpent ; we have the 
 blind worm and s/uu;'U>or»i still in our language, and the 
 Norwegians call an enormous monster, sometimes seeu 
 in the Northern ocean, the sea-uform.— JOHNSON. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 " Tenantius."—\ct I. Sc. 1, 
 Tenantius was the father of Cyrabeline, and nephew of 
 Cassibelau, being the younger son of his elder brother 
 Lud, king of the southern part of Britain ; on whose death, 
 Cassibelan was admitted king. Cassibelan repulsed the 
 Romans on their first attack, but being vanquished by 
 Julius Csesar, lie agreed to pay an annual tribute to Rome. 
 After his decease, Tenantius was established on the throne. 
 According to some writers, he quietly paid this tribute, 
 others saj he refused it, and warred with the Romans. 
 Shak.speare supposes the latter to be true, and lollows 
 Holinsht-d, from whom he got the name of Sicilius. Leo- 
 natus is a name which occurs in Sydney's Arcadia. 
 
 M ALONE. 
 
 ' All sworn and honourable." — ^Act II. Sc. 4. 
 
 It was anciently the custom for the attendants on our 
 nobility, and other great personages, (as it is now fur the 
 
 servants of the king) to take an oath of fidelity on their 
 entering into oliite— PERCY. 
 
 " The ruddock would 
 
 With charitable bill, — bring thee all this; 
 
 Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none. 
 
 To winterijriiund thy corse."— kcl IV. Sc. 2. 
 
 Tlie ruddock is the redbreast, and is so called by Spenser 
 and Chaucer. Ti e office of covering the dead is ascribed 
 to this bird by Drayton : 
 
 " Covering with moss the dead's unclosed eye. 
 The little redbreast teacheth charitie." 
 And in an old book called Cornucopia, it is said: "The 
 Robin Redbreast, if he find a man or woman dead, will 
 cover all his face with mosse, taud some thiuke that if the 
 bodye should remaine unburied, that he would cover the 
 w hole boilye also." We all remember " The Children in 
 the Wood." 
 
 TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 
 " Ay, come, Semiramis." — Act. II. Sc. 3. 
 " Queen Semiramis loved a great horse that she had. so 
 farre forth, that she was content he should doe his kind 
 with her. "—PLINY'S NAT. HIST. 
 
 " A precious ring." — Act. 11. Sc.4. 
 There is supposed to be a gem called a carbuncle, which 
 emits not reflected, but native light. Boyle believed in its 
 existeuce.-JOHNSON. 
 
 " As far from help as limbo is from bliss." 
 
 Act. III. Sc. 1. 
 
 The limbus patrum, as it was called, is a place that the 
 
 schoolmen fancied to be in the viciiiity of hell, where the 
 
 souls of the pRtriarchs, and of (hose good men who died 
 
 before our Saviour's resurrection, were detained. 
 
 " Honey-stalks to sheep."— A.ct IV. Sc. 1. 
 Honey stalks are cloi'er flowers, which contain a sweet 
 juice. It is common for catUe to overcharge themselves 
 with clover, and die."— JOHNSON. 
 
 " Bring down the devil." — Act, V. Sc. 1. 
 It appears from these words, (hat the audience were 
 amused with part of the apparatus of an execution, and 
 that Aaron was mounted on a ladder, as ready to be turned 
 •ff.— ST£EVEiNS. 
 
 "Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.'— \ct.V. Se.3. 
 
 The additions made by Ravenscroft to this scene, are so 
 much of a piece with it, that we cannot omit shewing the 
 reader how he continues the speech before us ; — 
 
 " Thus cramm'd, thou'rt bravely fatten'd up for hell. 
 And thus to Pluto J do serve thee up." 
 
 [Stabs the Emperess.'i 
 
 And then — * A curtain drawn discovers tlie heads and hands 
 of Chiron and Demetrius hanging up against tlie wall ; their 
 bodies in chains in bloody linen." — STEEVENS. 
 
 "Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth." 
 
 Act V. Sc. 3. 
 
 That justice and cookery may go hand in hand to the 
 conclusion of this play, in Ravenscroft's alteration of it, 
 Aaron is at once racked uni roasted on the stage. 
 
 We have already given specimens of the changes made 
 in this piece by Ravenscroft, who revised it successfully 
 in the year 1G87; and may add, that when the empress stabs 
 her child, he has supplied the Moor with the following lines : 
 
 " She has outdone me, ev'n in mine own art. 
 
 Outdone me in murder, kill'dher own child ; 
 
 Give it me, I'll eut tt." STEEVENS. 
 
 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 
 
 That the reader may know through how many regions the 
 scene of this drama is dispersed, it is necessary to observe, 
 that Antioch was the metropolis of Syria ; Tyre, a city of 
 Phoenicia in Asia ; Tarsus, the metropolis of Cicilia, a 
 country of Asi^i-ininor ; Mitylene, the capilal of Lesbos, an 
 island in the yJ'.gean sea; and Ephesus, the capital of Ionia, 
 a country of tne Lesser Asia. — STEEVEN.-). 
 
 • When I saw the porpus, how he bou7ided and tumhted." 
 
 Act II. Sc. 1. 
 Captain Cook, in his second voyage to the South Seas, 
 menllous the yilaying of porpusses round the ship as a cer 
 tain sign of a violent gale of wind. MASON. 
 
 " A pair of bases."— Act II. Sc. 1, 
 Wliat bases mean is quite uncertain, but from a passage 
 in Sydney's Arcadia we may suppose they were a Kind of 
 breeches. " His bases (which he ware so long as they almost 
 came to his ankles) were embrodiered onley w.th blacke 
 wormes, which seemed to crawle up and downe, as readie 
 alreadie to devour him.''— .STEEVENS. 
 
 " Till the ship be cleared of the dead,"— Act HI. Sc. 1. 
 There was an ancient superstition, that a ship at sea 
 would "ink if a corpse remained on board. So Fuller's 
 Historie of-the Holy Warre : — "His body was carried into 
 France, there to be buried, and was most miserably tossed; 
 it being observed, that the sea cannot digest the cnidili/ of 
 a dead corpse beinfr a due debt to be interred where it 
 dieth; and a ship cannot abide to be made a bier of." 
 •_, STEEVENS. 
 
 • These royuing thieves serve the great pirate Viiides." 
 
 Act IV. Sc 2. 
 The SpBnish.A'rmada probably furnished the author with 
 
 this name. Don Pedro de Valdes was an admiral in that 
 fleet, and had the command of the great galleon of Anda- 
 lusia. His sliip being disabled, he was taken by Sir Francis 
 Drake, on the'J2d of July, 158S, and sent to Dartmouth The 
 making one of this Spaniard's ancestors a pirate, was pro- 
 bably relished by the audience in those days. — M ALONE. 
 
 « To keep our door hatched."— Act IV. Sc. 2. 
 
 The doors or hatches of brothels seem to have had some 
 distinguishing mark. So in Cupid's Whirligig, lf)07 : "Set 
 some picks upon your hatch, aud, I pray, profess to keep a 
 bawdy house." 
 
 " And cry, he that will give most, shall have her first. " 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 The prices of first and second prostitution were exactly 
 settled ,■ so in an old prose romance : — "Go thou and make 
 a crye through the citie, that of all men that shall enhnbyte 
 with her carnally, the fyrst shall give me a pounde of g'olde, 
 and after that echone a peny of golde." — STEEVENS. 
 " / have drawn her picture with my voice."— Act IV. Sc . 3. 
 
 It was formerly the custom at Naples to hang up the 
 picturesoftelebialed courtesans in the public parts of the 
 town, to serve as directions where ihcy livfed— IVIASON. 
 
 " Crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest mal- 
 leable."— Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 
 A skilful workman, who had discovered the rrl if making 
 glass mailenhle, carried a S|iecimcn of it to Tiberius, who 
 asked him if he alone was in posse.ssion of ll>e .stciet. He 
 replied in the athrmative ; ou which the tyrant onlered liis 
 head to be struck oH' instantly, lest the Miventinn should 
 iujure the woikers in precious metals.— DION CASSIUS. 
 
EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 8-25 
 
 KING LEAR 
 
 * And to eat HO fish. "—Xct I. Sc.4. 
 
 /n Kli/^Vth's time, the papists were thought, and with 
 reason, enemies to the goveruraent. Hence the proverbial 
 expression of, hes an honest man, and eats no fish, to 
 signify he's a friend to the government, and a protestant ; 
 the eating offish being considered such a badge of popery, 
 that when it was enjoined by iwrliament to encourage the 
 fish towns, it was held proper to declare the reason; hence 
 it was called Cecils fast— WARBVRTON. 
 
 " That frontlet. "—Act I. Sc.4. 
 A frontlet was a forehead cloth, used formerly by ladies 
 at night, to render that part smooth.— MALONE. 
 " That's a shealed peascod."— Act I. Sc. 4. 
 The roheing of Richard II. 's effigy in Westminster Ahbey, 
 Is wrought with peaseorfs op^n, aa([ the peas out; perhaps 
 an allusion to his once being in possession of full sovereignty, 
 but soon reduced to an empty title.— TOLLET. 
 « Stocks brought out.'— Act II. Ac. 2. 
 This was not the first time of introducing stocks on the 
 stage. In Hick Scoruer, which was printed early in the 
 reign of Henry VIII., Pitt/ is put into them, and left there 
 till he is freed by Perseverance and Conte/nviaci/oii. 
 
 STEKVENS. 
 
 « Of Bedlam beggars.'— Act II. Sc. 3. 
 
 In the Bell man of London . by Decker, 1040. is an account 
 of one of these characters, under the name of an Abraliam 
 Man. " He sweares he hath been in Bedlam, an I will talke 
 frantickly of purpose ; you see pinnes stuck in sundry places 
 of his naked uesh; especially in bis amies, which paine he 
 gladly puts himself to, only to make you believe he is out 
 of his wits. He calls himself by the name o[ Puore Tom, 
 and coming near any body crys out, Ponre Tom is a-cohl ; 
 of these Abraham Men, some be exceeding merry, and doe 
 nothing but sing songs fashioned out of their own braines : 
 some will dance, some will doe nothing but either laugh or 
 weepe ; others are dogged, and so sullen both in looke and 
 speech, that spying but a small company in a house, they 
 boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the servants, through 
 fear, to give them what they demand."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " Then he wears uwoden nether-stocks." — .\ct II. Sc. 4. 
 
 Nether-stocks is the old word for stockings. Breeches 
 being at that time called overstocks.— STEEVESS. 
 
 " Whq gires anything to Poor Tom ? whom the foul fiend 
 hath led through fire and through flame." — Act III. Sc.4. 
 
 Edgar's ravings may be explained by reference to a pas- 
 sage in Harsnet's book :— " This Examt. further sayeth.that 
 one Alexander, an apothecary, having brought with him 
 from London to Denham, on a time, a new halter, and two 
 blades of knives, did leave the same upon the gallerie floore, 
 in her master's house : a great search was made in the house 
 to know how the said halter and knife-blades came thither, 
 till Ma. Mainy, in his next tit said, it was reported that the 
 devii lay'd them in the uullerie, that some of those that 
 were possessed might either hang themselves with the hal- 
 ter, or kill themselves with the blades." — MALONE. 
 " Were gloves in my cap." — Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 It was anciently the custom to wear gloves in the hat, on 
 three different occasions, viz ; as the favour of a mistre.ss ; 
 the memorial of a friend ; and as a mark to be challenged by 
 an enemy. A passage or two may be given to prove the 
 usage. 
 
 In the play called Campaspe : "Thy men turned to wo- 
 men, thy soldiers to lovers, gloves worn in velvet caps, 
 instead of plumes in graven helmets. » 
 
 And in Decker's Satiromastix : "Thou shall wear her 
 glove in thy worshipful hat, like to a leather brooch.-" 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Web and the pin.'— Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 Tbe Lapland ir.ethod of cure for "a disease of the eyes 
 called the pin aniweb, which is an imperfect stage of a 
 cataract," is given by Acerbi.in his travels. — ULAKEWAY. 
 " WIdpped from ty thing to tything." — .\ct HI. Sc. 4. 
 
 A tything isa division of a place, a district ; (he same in 
 the country, as a ward in the city. In the Saxon times, 
 every hundred was divided into tythings. By a statute of 
 Elizabeth, it is enacted, that every vagabond shall be 
 piililicl'/ whipped, and sent from parish to parish." — 
 SI'EEVENS. 
 
 "Peace, Smolkin, peace." — Act HI. Sc. 4. 
 
 The demons here mentioned by Edgar, were the popular 
 fiends of the poet's age, and were well known ammig the 
 superstitious of every class. Even the learned and noble 
 fell into the same grovelling delusion ; King James was a 
 
 staunch believer, not merely in their existence, but in £J.e 
 every day agency which was ascribed to them by the Tulf^sr. 
 Shakspeare has made Edgar, in his feigned madness, alliitie 
 to an imposture of some English Jesuits. 'I'he trick was ia 
 substance as fo:lows : — While the Spaniards were preparing 
 their armada against England, the Jesuits were busy to 
 promote it, by making converts : one method they em- 
 ployed was to dispossess pretended demoniacks, by which 
 artifice they made several hundred converts among the 
 common people. The principal scene of this farce was 
 laid in the family of one Peckham, a catholic; where Mar- 
 wood, (aservaut of Anthony Babington, who was afterwards 
 executed for treason,) Trayford, an attendant on Peckham, 
 and three chamber tnaids, in that family, came into the 
 priest's hands to be cured.; but the discipline of the patients 
 was so long and severe, and the priests were so elate anrt 
 careless with success, that the plot was discovered on tlnj 
 confession of the parties, and the contrivers of it deservedly 
 punished. The devils mentioned by Edgar, arc those who 
 were made to act in this farce upon the chambermaids, 
 and they w. re generally so ridiculously nick-named, that 
 Harsnet has one chapter " On the strange names of their 
 devils; lest, (says he) meeting them otheiwi.se by chance, 
 you mistake them for names ol tapsters or jugglers." 
 
 WARBURTON. 
 " Hopdance cries in Tom's belly."— Act III. Sc. 6. 
 In Harsnet's book, one of the pretended demoniacs de- 
 poseth — "that if at anytime she did belch, as often times 
 .she did by reason that shee was troubled with a wind in her 
 stomacke, the priests would say at such times, that then 
 (he .spirit b gan to rise in her, and that the wind was the 
 devil;" and, "as she sailh, if they heard any croaking in 
 her belly, then they would make a wonderful matter of that." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 " Poor Tom, thy horn is dry."— Act HI. Sc. 6. 
 
 A horn was usually carried about by every Tom of Bed- 
 lam, to receive such drink as the charitable might all'ord 
 him. See A Pleasant Dispute between a Coach and a he- 
 dan, 1630. "I have observed when a coach is appendant 
 but two or three hundred pounds a yrere, maike it, the 
 dogges are as leane as rakf s ; you may tell all their ribbes 
 lying by the tire : and a Tom-a-Bedlam may sooner eat his 
 home, than get it fi\\e<iv,ilh small drinke ; and for his old 
 alms of hacoii there is no hope in the world." — M.\LONE. 
 'Upon these eyes of thine. III set my foot." — Act HI. Sc. 7. 
 
 In helimus. Emperor of the Turks, one of the sons of 
 Bajazet pulls out the eyes of an Aya on the stage, and says, 
 " Ves. thou shalt live, but never see that day. 
 Wanting the tapers that should give thee light." 
 
 Immediately after, his hands are cut off. In Marston's 
 Antonio's Revenge, 1602, Piero's tongue is torn out upon 
 the stage. We give these instances of depraved taste, to 
 prove that Shakspeare's drama was not more sanguinary 
 than that of his contemporaries. "— STBEVENS and MA- 
 LONE. 
 
 " Half u>ay down 
 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade !" 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 " Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea 
 cliffs in this country : it is terrible to see how the people 
 gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom fri'm the top of 
 the impending rocks, as it were in the air."— SMITH'S 
 HISTtJRV OF WATERFORD, 1774. 
 
 * That fellow handles his bow like a crow keeper." 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 6. 
 In several counties, to this day, they call a stuffed figure, 
 representing a man, and armed with a bow and arrow, set 
 up to fright the crows from the fruit and corn, a crow- 
 keeper, as well as a icare-croij).— THEOBALD. 
 " It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
 A troop of horse with felt." — Act IV .Sc. 6. 
 
 This "delicate stratagem" had actually Wen put in prao- 
 fice about fifty vears before Shakspeare was born, as we 
 learn from Lnrd Herbert's Life of Henry VIII.; "And now," 
 says that historian, "having feasted the ladies royally for 
 divers days, he (Henry) departed from Tournay to Lisle, 
 Oct. 13, 1513; whither he was invited by the Lady Marga- 
 ret, who caused there a juste to be held in an extraordinary 
 manner; the place being a fore room, raised high from the 
 ground by many steps, and paved with black square stones, 
 like marble; while the horses, to prevent sliiling, were 
 shod with felt or ffocks; afier which the ladies dauced all 
 night."— MALONii. * 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 'We'll not carry coals."— Act I. Sc. 1. 
 One that would carry coals, formerly meant a mean- 
 spirited fellow, who would submit to any indignity without 
 resentment. A passage or two from old plays will abun- 
 dantly prove this. 
 " Now my ancient being a man of an nn coal carrying 
 
 spirit."— Chapman's May-Day, 1610. 
 " Here comes one that trill carry coals, ergo, will hold my 
 
 dog."— Every if an out of his Humour. 
 ' Be has had wrong, and if I were he, I would beare no 
 
 voaiet, "'-Antonio and Mellida, ICO'J. 
 
 " / v>ilt bite my thumb at them."— Act I. Sc. I. 
 
 Tlii.5 mode of quarrelling appears to have been common 
 in our author's time. " What swearing is there, (.says Dec- 
 ker, describing the various groups that daily frequented the 
 walks ofSt. Paul's Church) what .shouldering, what ju.stlin?, 
 what leering, what bylinn of ;humbs to beget quarrelst*— 
 The Dead Term, 1608.— MALON E. 
 
 'Yonr plantain leaf is excellent for that." 
 
 Act I. Sc. 8. 
 
 Tachins tells ns, that a toad, before she engages with tt 
 spider, will fortify herself with some of this plant ; and thjii 
 
81(i 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES, 
 
 if she comes offwouniled, she cures herself afterwards with 
 it.— Dr. GREY. 
 
 " Court cupboard. — Act I. Sc. 5. 
 h. conrt-ciiphuard wiis a moveable, a boufet, a fixture. 
 The I'onner was ojien, and made of plain uak; the latter 
 had folding doors, find was both painted and gilded on the 
 iuside,— STEEVENS. 
 
 « Turn the tables up."— Act I. Sc. 5. 
 It should be observed, that ancient tables were fiat leaves, 
 joined by hinges and placed on tressels. When they were 
 to be removed, they were therefore turned up. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 "Like powder in a skill-less snldier'sjlask" — Act III. Sc. 3. 
 To understand tliis allusinn, it shciuld be remembered, 
 that the ancient English soldiers, using ?/ialrhlocks, instead 
 of locks with flints as at present, were obliged to carry a 
 lighted match hansing at their belts very near to the 
 wooden flask in which they kept their powder. 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 "iie thou there."— kri IV. Sc. 3. 
 It appears from several passages in our old plays, that 
 
 knives were formerly part of the bride's accoutrements, 
 and every thing behovejid for Juliet's state had been just 
 left with her. So in Decker's Match We in Loudon, 1631. 
 
 " See at my girdle hang my wedding knives.' 
 And in King Edward III. 1599 : 
 
 " Here by my side do hang my wedding knives.' 
 " And shrieks like mandrakes drawn out of the earth.' 
 
 Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 The mandrake (says Thomas Newton, in his Herball to 
 (he Bible, 8vo. 1587) has been idly represented as "acrea 
 ture having life, and engen ered under the earth of the- 
 seed of some deade person that hath been convicted and put 
 lo deathe for some felonie or muriher; and that they had 
 the same in such dampishe and fuiierall places where the 
 saide convicted persons were buried."— STEKVENS. 
 
 " One of our order, to associate me." — Act V. 3c. 2. 
 Each friar has alw ays a companion assigned him by his 
 superior, when he asks leave to go out ; and thus they aro 
 a check upon each other.— STEEVENS. 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 ■ The morning cock crew loud." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 Bourne, of Newcastle, in his Antiquities of the Common 
 People, informs us,— "It is a received tradition among the 
 vulgar, that at the lime of cock crowing, the tuidniglit 
 spirits forsake these lower regions, and go to'their proper 
 places. Hence it is, (says he) that in country places, where 
 the way of life requires more early labour, they always go 
 cheerfully to wo.rk at that lime ; whereas, if ihey are called 
 abroad sooner, they imagine every thing they see a wander- 
 ing ghost."— FARMER. 
 
 " They clepe'ns, drunkards." — Act I. Sc. 4. 
 
 And well our Englishmen might ; for in Elizabeth's time, 
 there was a Dane in London, who is thus mentioned in a 
 collection of characters, entitled Looke to It, for lie Stab 
 Ye: 
 
 * You that will drink Reynaldo unto deth. 
 The Dane that would carowse out o.f'his boote." 
 
 And it appears from one of Howell's Letters, dated at 
 Hamburgh, in the year 1632, that the then king of Denmark 
 had not degenerated from his jovial predecessors. In his 
 account of an entertainment given by his majesty to the earl 
 of Leicester, he tells us, that the king, after beginning 
 thirty-five toasts, was carried away in his chair, and that 
 all the oflicers of the court were druuk.— STEEVENS. 
 " Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, 
 And, fur the day, confin'd to fast in fires." 
 
 Act I. Sc. V. 
 
 Among the other pnnishmenfs of hell and purgatory, con- 
 tinual hunger and thirst were enumerated. Chaucer says, 
 —"And moreover the misese of hell shall be in defaut of 
 meat and drinke." Nashe, in his Fierce Penniless, has the 
 same idia : " V/hether it be a place of horror, stench, and 
 darkness, where men see meat, but can get none, and are 
 ever thirsty." So, likewise, at tlie conclusion of an ancient 
 pamphlet, called 'The VVyll of the Devyil : 
 
 " Thou shall lye in frost and fire 
 With sicknes.se atid hunger." 
 " In her excellent white bosom, these." — Act II. Sc. 2. 
 
 It was customary for ladies to have a pocket at the bosom 
 of their dn'ss, in which they kept tellers, or any other va- 
 Wbte which they dcsirtd to have constantly about them. 
 "An eyry of children." — Act II. Sc. 2. 
 
 This relates to the young singing men of Uie Chapel- 
 Royal, or St. Paul's, of the former of whom mention occurs 
 in a piirit-auical pamphlet so early as K09 : " Plais will 
 never be supprest, while her Majesties unfledged minions 
 flaunt it in silkes and satteus. They had as well be at their 
 popish service in the devill's garments. Even in her Ma- 
 lestie's chapel do these pretly upstart you thes profane the 
 liOrde's day by the lascivious writhings of their tender 
 limbes, and gorgeous di eking of their a+iparell, in feigning 
 bawdie fables gathered from the idolatrous heathen poets." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 * By the altitude of a chopine."—A.ct II. Sc. 2. 
 
 "A thing made of wood, and covered with leather of 
 sundry colours, some with white, some with redde, some 
 yellow. It is called a chapiney, which they wear under 
 tlieir shoes. Many of Ihem are curiously painted, some also 
 of them have I seen fairly gilte. There are many oflhese 
 chapineys of great height, even half a yardehighe, whiche 
 maketh many of their women, whiche are very short, st-eme 
 much taller than the tallest woman we have.iu England- 
 Also, I have heard it observed among them, that by how 
 much the nobler a woman is, by so much the higher are her 
 chapineys. All their gentlewomen, and most of their 
 wives and widows that are of any wealth, are assisted and 
 supported, eyther by men or women, when they walke 
 ftbroade, to the end they may not fall. They are borne up 
 most commonly by the left anno, otherwise they might 
 quickly take a fall."— CORYATS CRUDITES, 1611. 
 
 "Like French falconers."— Act II. Sc. 2. 
 The amusement of falconry was much cultivated in 
 France, lu Sir Thomas IJrowne's Tracts, we are told, that 
 "tlie Fre?tch seem to have been the first and noblest fal- 
 coners in the western piirt of Europe." And, that " the 
 French kmg sent over his falconers to shew that sport to 
 ting James the First."— STEEVENS. 
 
 " / have heard of your paintings, too, well enough.' 
 
 ActHI.Sc. 1. 
 Painting the skin was very common anciently, and was 
 frequently alluded to by Shakspearc's contemporaries. So, 
 in Drayton's Mooncalf : 
 
 " No sooner got the teens. 
 
 But her own natural beauty she disdains ; 
 With oyls and broths most ):enomous and base. 
 She ptaisters over her well favour'd place ; 
 And those sweet veins hy nature right y plac'd. 
 Wherewith she seems that white skin tu have lac'd. 
 She soon doth alter, and, uilhfadiiig blue. 
 Blanching her bosom, she makes others nev>." 
 
 STEEVENS. 
 
 * Out-herods Herod."— Act III. Sc. 2. 
 The character of Herod in the ancient mysteries was al- 
 ways a violent one. The following language is put into his 
 mouth in an old play. 
 
 "Now I reign lyk a king array'' d full rych, 
 Ruilyd in rynggs and robys of array . 
 Dukus vJith Dentys I drive into the dych. 
 My dedys befnltiluwly demyd be day." 
 " Of be^ute and ofboldnes I ber evermore the belle. 
 Of mayn and of myght I master every man ; 
 J dynge with my duwtiness the deryl down to helle. 
 Fur buthe ofhevyn andof earth lam kynge certann." 
 STEEVENS and MALONE. 
 
 " hying down at Ophelia's feet." — Act III. Sc. 2. 
 To lie at the fret of a mistress, during any dramatic re- 
 presentation, seems to have been a common act of gal- 
 lantry. So in the Queen of Corinth, by Beaumont and 
 Fletcher : 
 
 " Ushers her to her coach, lies at her feet 
 At solemn masques, applauding what she Imiqhs at.' 
 
 STEEVENS, 
 
 * Behind the arras I'll coyivey myself." — Act III. Sc. 3. 
 
 The arras hangings, in the poet's time, were hung at 
 such a distance from (he wall, tnat a person might easily 
 stand behind them unperceived. — MALONE. 
 
 "Look here, upon this picture, and on this." — Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 The introduction of miniatures in this place is a modern 
 innovation. A print prefixed to Rowe's edition of Ham- 
 let, 1709, proves (his. There the two royal portraits are 
 exhibited as half lengths, hanging in the queen's closet; 
 and either thus, or as whole lengths, tliey were probably 
 exhibited from the time of the original performance of this 
 tragedy, to the death of Betlerton. We may also learn, 
 from this print, that the trick of throwing down the chair, 
 on the appearance of tlie ghost, was adopted by modem 
 Hamlets, from the practise of their predecessors. 
 
 MALONE, and STEEVENS. 
 
 " Thunders in the index."— Act HI. Sc. 4. 
 In many old books we find the index inserted at the be- 
 ginning instead of the end, as is now usual. 
 
 "Hide fox, and all afler."—ActlV. Sc. 3. 
 
 There is a play among children, called, hide fox and all 
 after, which Decker seems to allude to in his Satiromas- 
 tix : — "Our unhandsome-laced poet does play at bo-peep 
 with your grace, and cries,— 'All hid, as boys do." 
 
 lUNMER. 
 
 « By his cockle hat and slajf. 
 
 And his scandal shuon." — Act IV. Sc. 5. 
 
 Tliis is the description of a pilgrim While (his kind of 
 devotion was in favour, love intrigues were carried ou 
 under (hat mask. Tlie cockle-shell hat was one of the es- 
 sential badges of this vocation ; for the chief places of 
 devotion being beyond sea, or on the C(ias(.s, the pilgrims 
 were accustomed to put cockle-shells in heirbats, to denote 
 the due performance of their vows.— WARBURf ON. 
 
 " The owl was a baker's daughter." — Act IV. Sc. 5. 
 This is a common story amons the vulgar in Glouces- 
 tershire, and is thus related: " Our Savinur went into 8 
 baker's shop, where they were bflking. and iisked for some 
 bread to eat. The mistress of the shop immediately put 
 
EXPLANATORY WOTES. 
 
 827 
 
 « piece of Soueh info the oven to bake for him; but was 
 reprimanded by her daughter, who insisted that tlie piece 
 of dou«;h was too large, and reiluced it to a very small size. 
 The douRli, imwever, iinmedialely afterwards began to 
 swell, and i)r«^seatly became of a most enormous size. 
 Wiieieupon, Ibe baker's daughter cried out.— " Heugh, 
 heugh, heugh!" which owl-like uoise probably inducinl 
 our Saviour, for her wickedness, to transform her into 
 that bird."— DOCCE. 
 
 « By Saint Charity."— Kc^ IV. So. 5. 
 
 lu the scene between the bastard Faulcoiibridge and the 
 friars and nun, in The First Part of the Troublesome 
 Raigne of King John, — " the nunne swears by (lis. and the 
 friars prays to Saint Wilhold, (anotlier obsolete saint 
 mentioned in King Lear) and adjure him by Saint Cha- 
 rilie to hear them."— BLACKSTONE. 
 
 " There's rosemary, that's for remembrance." — Act IV.Sc. 5, 
 
 Rosemary was anciently supposed to strengthen the me- 
 mory, and was not only carried at funerals, but worn at 
 weddings. Thus, in the Noble Spanish Soldier, 1631: "I 
 meet few but are stuck with rosemary : every one asked 
 me who was to be married." Pansies is for thoughts, 
 because of its name pensees ; so, in All Fools, a comedy 
 by Chapman, 1605 : 
 
 " What flowers are these ? 
 
 The pitnsie this. 
 
 O, that's Jor lovers' thomjhts .'" 
 
 Greene, in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier, 16?0, calls 
 fennel, women's xceetls, "tit generally for that sex, silh 
 while they are maidens, Ihey wish wantonly." Columbines 
 are thus mentioned by Chapman in his All Fools : 
 
 " What's that ?—u columbine ? 
 
 No : that luankless flower grows not in my garden." 
 
 Ophelia calls rue, the herb of grace : the following passage 
 from a Quip for an Upstart Courtier, is much to (he pur- 
 pose : — .Some of them smiled and said, rue was called AerAe 
 Qrace, which, though they scorned in their youth, they 
 might weare in their age, and that it was never too late to 
 say miserere." In the same work, the emblematical cha- 
 racter of the daisy is thus given : " Next them grew the 
 Uissemhling daisy, to warue suchlight-of love wenches not 
 to trust every I'aire promise that such aiuorous bachelors 
 make them." The violet is thus characterised iu an old 
 collection of sonnets, printed 15S4. 
 
 " Violet is .for failh.fulnesse , 
 
 Which in me shall abide ; 
 Uiipiny likewise that from ycur heart 
 
 You will not let it slidi." 
 
 " To play at loggats with Mem."— Act V. Sc. 1. 
 
 This is a game still played in several parts uf Eiiglnnd. A 
 
 stake is fixed into the ground ; those who play, tbrow log- 
 gats at it, a- d he that is nearest the slake wins : we have 
 seen it played at sheep shearing leasts, where the winner 
 was entitled to a black lleece, which he afterward.s pre- 
 sented to the farmer's maid to spin, fur the purpose of mak- 
 ing a petticoat, and on condition that she kuelt down on th9 
 fleece, to be kissed by all the rustics present.— STEEV ENS. 
 
 ' The age is grown so picked."— Act V. Sc. I. 
 
 This alludes to a very absurd fashion. Shoes with pointed 
 toes, of a monstrous length, were so generally worn in 
 EiigJand, that it was restrained at last by proclamation, so 
 long ago »s the 5th of Edward IV. when it was ordcrec), 
 'that the beaks or pykes of shoes and boots should not pass 
 two inches, upon pain of cursing by the clergy, and for- 
 feiting twenty shillings, to be paid, one noble to the king, 
 another to the Cordwainers of London, and the third to the 
 chamber of London : and for other countries and towns, 
 the like order was taken. Before this time, and since the 
 year I4S2, thi- pykes of shoes and boots were of such length, 
 that they were fain to be tied up to the knee with chains of 
 silver, and gilt, oi at least silken laces.— StEEVENS. 
 
 'In the bilboes."— \ct V. Sc. 2. 
 
 The bilboes is a bar of iron with fetters annexed to it, by 
 which disorderly or mutinous sailors were anciently linked 
 together. The word is derived from Bilbao, a Jjlace in 
 Spain, famous for its steel manufactures. The legs of per- 
 sons surtering the punishment were connected so closely, 
 that it w as impossible for one to move without distressing 
 the other; so that any attempt to rest under such circum- 
 stances was wholly tniitless. The bilboes are still shewn in 
 the Tower of London, among the other spoils of the Spanish 
 /.rmarfa.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " / once did hold it, as our statists do, 
 A baseness to write fair."— Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 " I have in my time (says Montaigne), seene some, who, by 
 writing, did earnestly get both their titles and living, to 
 disavow their apprentissage, marre their pen, and affect the 
 ignorance of so vulgar a qualitie." So, in Fletcher's 
 Woman-Hatei : " 'Tis well, and you have learned to write 
 a bad hand, that the readers may take pains for it. Your 
 lordship hath a secretary that can write fair when you pur- 
 pose to be understood. "— BOSWELL. 
 
 « Hangers. "—Act V. Sc. 2. 
 
 Under this term were comprehended four graduated 
 straps, &c. that hung down in a belt on each side of its 
 receptacle for the sword. I have seen a most gorgeous belt 
 of this description, at least as old as the time ol James I. 
 It was of common velvet, embroidered with gold, and had 
 belonged to the Sommerset family. Pope mistook the 
 meaning of this term, conceiving it to signify "short pen- 
 dulous broadswords."— STEEVENS. 
 
 OTHELLO. 
 
 " Special officers of night." — Act I. Sc. 2. 
 
 ■Shakspcare must have read the Commonwealth and Co- 
 veriiiiient of Venice, translated by Lewkenor; in which the 
 ftillowing passage occurs: "For the greater expedition 
 thereof, of these kinds ofiudgements, the heads or chieftains 
 of the officers by night do ibtain the authority of which the 
 advocators are deprived. These officers of the night are six, 
 and six likewise are those meane otTicers, that have only 
 power to correct base vagabonds and trifling offences." — 
 
 MALONE. 
 
 " Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you, 
 Against the general entmy Ottoman." — Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 It was part of ihe policy of the Venetian state, never to 
 entrust the command of an army to a native. To exclude 
 tlierefore (says Contareno, as translated by Lewkenor, 
 I'-iW), from the Venetian state, the danger or occasion of 
 ambitious enterprises, our ancestors held it a better course 
 to defend the dominions on (he continent with foreign mer- 
 cenary soldiers, than with the home bred citizens. Their 
 charges and yearly occasions of disbursement are likewise 
 very great ; for alwaise they do entertain in honorable sort 
 Willi great provision a captaine gencralle, who alwaise is 
 a stranger borne. — MALONE, 
 
 * The Anlropophagi, and men whose heads 
 Do grow beneath their shoulders— Act. 1. Sc. 3. 
 
 The Cannibals and Anthropophagi were known to an 
 English audience before Shakspeare introduced tliem. In 
 The History of Orlando Forioso. played before Elizabeth, 
 they are mentioned; and Raleigh speaks of. people whose 
 heads appear not ahore their shoulders. Histories, says 
 tJilpin, in a sennon before Edward IV. notice a "people 
 called Antropophagi, eaters of mtn." In Hackinyfs 
 Voyages, IfVflS, we (ind this passage:— "On (hat branch 
 which is called Caora, area nation of people whose heades 
 appear net above their .shoulders : they are reported to have 
 their eyes in their shoulders, and their nioutlies iu the 
 middle of their breastes."— REED, and STEEVENS, 
 
 • Thrice .^rtven bed of down. "—Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
 A driven bed is a bed for which the feathers are selected, 
 by drirJTtff with a fan, which separates tu- light from the 
 Iipavy.-J0H>S0N. 
 
 • At btscious as locusts. "—Act I. .Sc. 3. 
 
 Tbe ttnlt of tbe locust tree is a long black pod, I'ist con- 
 
 tains the seeds, among which there is a very sweet luscious 
 juice, of much the same consistency as fresh honev — 
 
 STEEVEKS. 
 
 ' Though that her Jesses were my dear heart stritigs." 
 
 Act III. Sc. 3. 
 Jesses are short straps of leather tied about the foot of a 
 hawk, by which she is held on the fist U.A.NMEU. 
 
 if the general camp, 
 
 Pioneers and all. "—Act HI. Sc. 3. 
 
 Pioneers were generally degraded soldiers, appointed to 
 the office of pioneer as a punishment for misbehaviour. 
 " A soldier ought ever to relaine and keepe his amies in 
 sat\ie and fortlicoming, for he is more to be detested than a 
 coward, that will lose or play away any part thereof, or 
 refuse it for his ease, or to avoid panics ; wherefore such a 
 one is to be demissed with puni.sliinent,or to be made somft 
 abject pioneer." The Art of War, by E. Davies. 1619. 
 
 GROSE. 
 « CrK.sa(/oes.»— Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 The crusado is so called from the cross which is stamped 
 upon it ; it is a Portuguese coin, iu value about three 
 shillings of our money.— GREY. 
 
 " A7id it was died in mummy."— Act III. Sc. 4. 
 
 The balsamic liquor running from mummies, was formerly 
 celebrated fur its and epileptic virtues. We are now wise 
 enough to know that the qualities ascrihtd to it are all 
 imaginary. IHummy, however, is still much coveted by 
 painters, as a transparent brown colour which throws u 
 warmth into their shadows.— STEEVENS. 
 
 " If that the earth could teem with ivoman's tears, 
 Each drop she falls, would prove a crocodile." 
 
 Act IV.Sc. I. 
 Siiasspeare here alludes to the fabulous accounts of cro- 
 codiles. " It 13 written (says Uullukar), that he shall weep 
 over a man's head, when he hath di-voured the bo.iy, and 
 then will eat up the head too. Wherefore, in Latin there is 
 a pvowtrh, crocodili lacri/jme, crocodile's tears to signify 
 such tears as are faiiied." It appiars, that a dead crocodile, 
 "hut in perfect forme," of about nine feet "(w.-r,, had been 
 exhibited in Loudon in our poet's time —MALONE. 
 
 " For a joint ring."— Act IV. Sc. 3. 
 
 Th"^ nature of a joint ring will be best esplained by a 
 psscage in Drydeu's Don Seiiastiau: 
 
828 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 ".......... « curious artist wrought them, 
 
 Vjrtifl joints so dose as not to be perceiv'd ,• 
 
 Yet are they both each other's counterpart : 
 
 Her part had Juan inscribed, and his had Zayda, 
 
 V ?" """ ' "■'* "<"««'S are theirs) and in the midst, 
 
 A heart divided in two halves was plac'd. 
 
 Aow if the rivets of those rinys inclosed, 
 
 tit not each other, 1 have forg'd this lye • 
 
 But if they join, you must for ever part. ^ 
 ' Chrysolite.'— Act V. Sc. 1. 
 Pliny informs us, that Ptolemy PhiladelphM had a statue 
 ot bis wife, Arsinoe, made of one tvpas, four cubits in 
 length, ropaz anA chrvstolite were once tut^ as syno- 
 nymous terms.— PLUMTREE. «!. sjiio- 
 
 1 
 
 JUL 151949 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Jfiographical Memoir of Sliakspeare 
 Chronological Order of Sliakspeare's Dramas 
 Tempest. 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 Twelfth Night ; or, What you Will 
 Measuie for Measure. 
 Much Ado About Noliiing. 
 Midsummer Night's Dream 
 Love's Labour's Lost. . 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 As Vou Like It. . 
 All's Well chat Ends Well, 
 Taming of the Shrew. . 
 Winter's Tale. 
 Comedy of Errors. 
 Macbeth. 
 King John. 
 
 — Richard II. . 
 
 — Henry IV.— Part. 1. 
 
 — Henry IV.— Part. II 
 
 — Henry V. . . 
 
 — Henry VI.— Part. I. 
 
 — Henry VI.— Part. II. 
 
 — Henry VI.— Part. III. 
 
 — Richard III. 
 
 — Henry Vlil. 
 Tioilus and Cressida 
 Timon of Athens. 
 Corioianus. . 
 Julius Cassar. 
 Antony and Cleopatra. 
 Cymbeline. 
 Titus .Andronicus. 
 Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 
 King Lear. . . . 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 Hamlet, prince of Denmark. 
 Othello, Moor of Venice. 
 Glossary. 
 Explanatory Notei. 
 
 Pa^c 
 
 V 
 XIV 
 
 1 
 
 17 
 33 
 53 
 71 
 92 
 111 
 127 
 148 
 167 
 187 
 208 
 228 
 251 
 2o5 
 283 
 302 
 323 
 346 
 370 
 393 
 414 
 438 
 461 
 4S9 
 513 
 539 
 558 
 585 
 604 
 630 
 656 
 675 
 693 
 719 
 742 
 771 
 797 
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