SHAKESPEARE'S WORKS.
[ WHITE.]
IN TWELVE VOLUMES.
VOLUME III.
COMEDIES.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.








THE WORKS OF
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
THE PLAYS EDITED FROM THE FOLIO OF MDCXXIII, WITH VARIOUS
READINGS FROM ALL THE EDITIONS AND ALL THE COMMENTATORS,
NOTES, INTRODUCTORY REMARKS, A HISTORICAL SKETCH OF
THE TEXT, AN ACCOUNT OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF
THE ENGLISH DRAMA, A MEMOIR OF THE POET,
AND AN ESSAY UPON HIS GENIUS
BY RICHARD GRANT WHITE
VOL. III.
BOSTON
LITTLE BROWN AND COMPANY
1863




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
RICHARD GRANT WHITE.
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of
New York.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY
STEREOTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.




MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
(3)




Measure for Measure occupies twenty-four pages in the folio of
1623; viz., from p. 61 to p. 84, inclusive, in the division of Comedies. It is there divided into Acts and Scenes and is followed
by a list of the Dramatis Personae under the head, " The names
of all the Actors."  From  this list, however, Varrius and the
Justice are omitted: above it is " The Scene Vienna."
(4)




MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
INTRODUCTION.
HIAKESPEARE  found the plot and the principal characters
of this play made to his hand in the Promos and Cassandra
of George Whetstone which was published in  1578, but never
acted.  Whetstone founded his play upon the fifth Novel of the
eighth Decade of Giraldi Cinthio's Hecatosmmithi, a collection of
tales similar to Boccaccio's Decamerone, and in which also Shakespeare found the tale upon which he constructed his Othello.
The course of the story in Cinthio's novel is indicated with sufficient particularity in its long title, which is as follows: - " Juriste
is sent by the Emperor Maximilian to Inspruch, where he causes
a young man, who has violated a virgin, to be arrested, and condemns him  to death: his sister endeavours to free him: Juriste
holds out hopes to the lady that he will marry her and liberate
her brother: she lies with him, and the same night Juriste causes
the young man's head to be struck off, and sends it to his sister.
She complains to the Emperor, who causes Juriste to marry the
lady; after which he orders him to be put to death: the lady saves
him, and lives with him most lovingly." *
Whetstone himself published in 1582 a book of tales similar to
that of Cinthio, which he called the Heptameron of Civil Discourses, and one of these tales he founded on Cinthio's story of
Juriste. The following argument, prefixed to his play of Promos
and Cassandra,t gives a very good description of the course of its
* C Juriste e mandato da Massimiano, Imperadore, in Ispruchi, ove fa prendere un giovane, violatore di una vergine, e condannalo a morte: la sorella
cerca di liberalrlo: Juriste da speranza alla donna di pigliarla per moglie, e di
darle libero il fratello: ella con lui si giace, e la notte istessa Juriste fQ tagliar
al giovane la testa, e la manda alla sorella. Ella ne fM querela all' Imperadore,
il quale fQa sposare ad Juriste la donna; poscia lo fV. dare ad essere ucciso. La
donna lo libera. e con lui si vive amorevolissimamente."
t " The right excellent and famous Ilistorye of Promos and Cassandra, divided into Commical Discourses: In the fyrste Parte is showne the unsufferable
(5)




6            MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
incidents, but is defective in two or three points important to the
student of Shakespeare:" In the Cytie of Julio (sometime under the dominion of Corvinus, King of Hungarie and Boemia) there was a law, that what
man so ever committed Adultery, should lose his head, and the
woman offender should weare some disguised apparell, during her
life, to make her infamouslye noted.  This severe lawe, by the
favour of some mercifull magistrate, became little regarded, untill
the time of Lord Promos auctority: who, convicting a yong Gentleman named Andrugio of incontinency, condemned both him,
and his minion, to the execution of this statute. Andrugio had
a very vertuous and beawtiful Gentlewoman to his Sister, named
Cassandra: Cassandra, to enlarge her brothers life, submitted an
humble petition to the Lord Promos: Promos regarding her good
behaviours, and fantasying her great beawtie, was much delighted
with the sweete order of her talke: and doying good, that evil
might come thereof, for a time he repryved her brother: but,
wicked man, touring his liking unto unlawfull lust, he set downe
the spoile of her honour raunsome for her Brothers life: chaste
Cassandra, abhorring both him and his sute, by no persuasion
would yeald to this raunsome. But, in fine, wonne with the importunitye of her Brother, (pleading for life,) upon these conditions
she agreede to Promos. First that he should pardon her brother,
and after marry her. Promos as feareless in promisse, as carelesse
in performance, with sollemne vowe, sygned her conditions: but
worse then any Infydel, his will satisfyed, he performed neither
the one nor the other: for to keepe his aucthoritye, unspotted with
favour, and to prevent Cassandrae's clamors, he commaunded the
Gayler secretly to present Cassandra with her brother's head. The
Gayler, [touched] with the outcryes of Andrugio, abhorrying Promos lewdenes, by the providence of God, provyded thus for his
safety. He presented Cassandra with a felons head newlie executed, who (being mangled, knew it not from her brother's, by the
Gaylor, who was set at libertie) was so agreeved at this trecherye,
that at the pointe to kyl herselfe, she spared that stroke to be
avenged of Promos.  And, devisyng a way, she concluded to
make her fortunes knowne unto the kynge. She (executinge this
resolution) was so highly favoured of the king, that forthwith he
abuse of a lewdo Magistrate, the vertuous behaviours of a chaste Ladye, the
uncontrowled leawdeness of a favoured Curtisan, and the undeserved Estimation of a pernicious Parasyte: In the second Parte is discoursed the perfect
Magnanimitye of a noble Kinge, in checking Vice and favouringe Vertue:
Wherein is showne the Ruyne and Overthrowe of dishonest Practises, with the
Advauncement of upright Dealing."
Both Whetstone's tale and Cinthio's are printed in Collier's Shakespeare'.
Library.




INTRODUCTION.                             7
hasted to do justice on Promos: whose judgment was, to marrve
Cassandra, to repaire her erased honour: which donne, for his
hainous offence he should lose his head. This marryage solempnised, Cassandra, tyed in the greatest bondes of affection to her
husband, became an earnest suter for his life: the kinge (tendringe the generall benefit of the common weale, before her special
case, although he favoured her much) would not graunt her sute.
Andrugio (disguised amonge the company) sorrowing the griefe
of his sister, bewrayde his safetye, and craved pardon. The kinge,
to renowne the vertues of Cassandra, pardoned both him and Promos. The circumstances of this rare Historye, in action lyvelye
followeth."
By this it will be seen that Whetstone improved greatly upon
the plot of Cinthio's tale, for dramatic purposes, by causing the
brother to be condemned for a far more venial fault than that laid
to his charge by the Italian author, and by substituting another
prisoner as the victim of the governor's faithless cruelty. Upon
Whetstone's plot, Shakespeare again improved by still further
mitigating the brother's error, by making the monarch himself the
principal agent in working out the denouement, and, above all,
by the introduction of another female character, betrothed (which
in early times was about the same as married) to the deputy, and
whose intervention saves his intended victim from compliance with
his conditions, while he is yet made answerable for the same crimes
of which he is guilty even in the original Italian story. But Shakespeare not only adopted, with these great improvements, Whetstone's variations from Cinthio's novel: he found in Promos and
Cassandra another set of characters, the Bawd, the Fantastic, the
Clown, and the Constable, which he also introduced but re-created.
He followed, too, in some measure, the arrangement of Whetstone's
Scenes, and in certain passages of the earlier play we find the germs
of others in the later. Thus, for instance, in these lines,
" Justice wyll say thou dost no cryme commit,
For in forst faultes is no intent of yll,"
is the origin of these,
" Our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than accompt."
So this passage, in a soliloquy by Promos, after Cassandra has
yielded to him,
"No force for that my might commaundeth right;
Hir privie maime hir open cryes will staye,




8           MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
Or if not so, my frowning will hir fright:
And thus shall rule conceale my filthy deed,"
is plainly but the counterpart of the following, in Angelo's soliloquy,
when he supposes himself to be in a similar position with regard
to Isabella: 
" But that her tender shame
Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
How might she tongue me! Yet Reason dares her on:
For my authority here bears up a credent bulk
That no particular scandal once can touch
But it confounds the breather."
One of Whetstone's comic characters, too, says, "A  holie hood
makes not a frier devoute," which is but a slight metrical paraphrase of the Latin saw, " Cucullus non facit monachum," which
Shakespeare puts in Lucio's mouth. These are but a few out of
many similar instances; and from all that has gone before, the
reader can form his own opinion as to the sort of obligation
under which Shakespeare was to Whetstone. He will probably
not agree with Mr. Collier, that " Shakespeare was not indebted to
Whetstone for a single thought, nor for a casual expression, excepting as far as similarity of situation may be said to have necessarily occasioned corresponding states of feeling and employment
of language," but he may safely rest assured that Promos and
Cassandra is about as much like Measure for Measure, as heaps of
unshaped clay and pits of sand and lime are like an Elizabethan
mansion.
The text of this play is generally well printed in the folio; but
it contains several passages which give more trouble to the editor
and the reader than any others which occur in that volume. To
those not disciplined in the construction of language, and unaccustomed to trace the logical connection of thoughts apparently
remote, the style of all the serious parts of Measure for Measure is
involved and therefore more or less obscure; and hence the necessity
for the explanation of passages which are not in any way corrupted, as well as the difficulty which has been found in restoring
those that are, and the supposition by many intelligent editors and
commentators that corruption existed in many passages, which,
upon a closer and more analytical examination, have been found
pure. The versification is rugged and irregular; but it seems to
be so from design, not carelessness. Conjectural emendation is




INTRODUCTION.                           9
thrown entirely upon its own resources in restoring some extremely difficult and unquestionably corrupted passages in this
play; for it receives no aid from any earlier copy than that of
the first folio.
We have no means of determining with great approach to accuracy the time when Measure for Measure was written. That it
was written in Shakespeare's maturity, its own profound philosophy, strikingly akin to that of Hamlet, is sufficient evidence:
that it had not been produced in 1597, we may feel quite confident, from the omission of it from the enumeration of its author's
works in Meres' Palladis Tamia: that it was produced before 1604,
we know, from an entry in the accounts of the Revels at Court
from October, 1604, to October, 1605, in the following words: --
"By his Matis Plaiers.  On St. Stivens night in the Hall, a
Play caled Mesur for Mesur."
In a column of the account devoted to " The Poets which mayd
the Plaies," the name of a Mr. " Shaxberd," apparently not so
well known then as it is now, is entered. The passage in the
first Scene, which contains a flattering allusion to the disposition
of King James to deny his subjects access to his person, has been,
with some reason, supposed to fix the date of the production of
this play after the accession of that monarch; and although it
might have been inserted for the special occasion of the performance at court in 1604, and afterward retained, the supposition
jumps so well with the character of the play itself and with our
knowledge as to the date of the production of other plays, that
we may safely conclude, with Mr. Collier, that Measure for Measure was written either at the close of 1603, or in the beginning
of 1604.
The period of the action of this play, which has been hitherto
considered, and even pronounced, to be undeterminable, is clearly
defined by the first few lines of the second Scene of the first Act,
and by our knowledge of the source of the plot. Whetstone tells
us, as we have seen, that the incidents took place " in the city of
Julio, sometime under the dominion of Corvinus, King of Hungary and Bohemia," and in his Heptameron the tale begins, " At
what time Corvinus, the scourge of the Turks, rayned as Kinge
of Bohemia, for to well governe the free cities of his realme, he
sent divers worthy magistrates," &c.: in the Scene mentioned,
Lucio says, "If the Duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall
upon the King: " to which the reply is, " Heaven grant us its
2




10           MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
peace, but not the King of Hungary's." Now Corvinus, King of
Hungary, was declared King of Bohemia in 1473, and reigned
until his death in 1490. He was almost continually at war with
the Duke of Austria, Frederic III. (whose court was at Vienna,)
and with the Turks. His expeditions were almost always successful against both; and he usually," conquered a peace " by a very
bloody victory, so that his enemies might well pray for Heav.
en's peace, " but not the King of Hungary's." As he marched
on Vienna and took it in 1485, the apprehensions expressed by
Luczo and his acquaintance enable us to determine almost the very
year of the supposed action, - an accuracy unattainable with regard to any other of these dramas not founded upon a historical
subject. Shakespeare, with his usual tact in adapting his plays
to the understanding of his audience, changed Whetstone's unknown city, Julio, to Vienna, a place almost or quite as well known
in England then as now.  With the place he also changed, of
course, the prince whose delegated authority is abused; but he
scrupulously retained the costume and all the traits and incidents
which marked the period of the story on which he built his comedy, and added two or three allusions not to be found in Whetstone's play or story, as if for the very purpose of giving a local
habitation and a time, as well as an air of reality, to this wonderful and admirable creation.* The costume of the characters is
* The reader who is disposed to examine closely the points considered in this
Introduction will find them discussed with much greater particularity in Shakespeare's Scholar. Mr. Verplanck's excellent Introduction to the play should
also receive his thoughtful attention. The following lines are the principal
part of what passes between the brother and sister in Promos and Cassandra,
in the interview corresponding to that between Claudio and Isabella in Measure
for Measure, Act III. Sc. 1. By comparing them, a correct idea may be formed
of the likeness -and the difference between the two plays.
" Cassandra. If thou dost live, I must my honor lose.
Thy raunsome is, to Promos fleshly wyll
That I do yielde: than which I rather chose
With torments sharpe myselfe he first should kyll.
Thus am I bent: thou seest thy death at hand:
O would my life would satisfie his yre,
Cassandra then would cancell soone thy band!
Andrugio. And may it be a judge of his account
Can spot his minde with lawles love or lust?
But more, may he doome any fault with death,
When in such faute he findes himselfe unjust?
Syster, that wise men love we often see,
And where love rules, gainst thornes doth reason spurne.




INTRODUCTION.                                   11
the Vielmese dress of the close of the fifteenth century, some approach to which, at least, may be found in Vecelli's Habiti Antichi
s Moderni, published at Vienna in 1698.
But who so loves, if he rejected be,
His passing love to peevish hate will turne.
Deare sister then note how my fortune stands:
That Promos love, the like is oft in use;
And sith he crave this kindnesse at your hands,
Think this, if you his pleasure do refuse,
1. in his rage (poor wretch) shall sing Peccavi.
Here are two evyls, the best harde to digest;
But whereas things are driven unto necessity,
There are we byd, of both evyls choose the least.
Cassandra. And of these evils the least, I hold, is death
To shun whose dart we can no meane devise;
Yet honor lives when death hath done his worst;
Thus fame then lyfe is of farre more comprise.
Andrugio. Nay, Cassandra, if thou thy selfe submit,
To save my life, to Promos fleashly wyll,
Justice wyll say thou dost no cryme commit,
For in forst faultes is no intent of yll.
Cassandra. IIow so th' intent is construed in offence,
The Proverbe saies that tenne good turnes lye dead,
And one yll deede tenne tymes beyond pretence
By envious tongues, report abrode doth spread.
Andrugio, so my fame shall vallewed bee;
Dispite will blase my crime, but not the cause;
And thus, although I fayne would set thee free,
Poor wench, I feare the grype of slaunder's pawes.
Andrugio. Nay sweete sister, more slaunder would infame
Your spotles lyfe to reave your brother's breath,
When you have power for to enlarge the same;
Once in your handes doth lye my life and death.
Way that I am the selfe-same flesh you are;
Thiuke, I once gone, our house will goe to wrack:
Knowe, forced faultes for slaunder neede not care:
Looke you for blame, if I guaile through your lack.
Consider well my great extremitie;
If otherwise this doome I could revoke,
I would not spare for any jebardye
To free thee, wench, from this same heavy yoke;
But ah, I see else no way saves my life,
And yet his hope may further thy consent;
He sayde, he maye percase make thee his wyfe,
And'tis likelie he cannot be content
With one night's joye: if love he after seekes;
And I discharg'd, if thou aloofe then be,
Before he lose thy selfe that so he leekes,
No doubt but he to marryage wyll agree."




DRAMATIS PERSONSE.
VINCENTIO, the Duke.
ANGELO, the Deputy.
ESCALUS, an ancient Lord.
CLAUDIO, a young Gentleman.
Lvcio, a Fantastic.
Two other like Gentlemen.
VARRIUS, a Gentleman, Servant to the Duke.
Provost.
THOMAS, Two Friars.
PETER,
A Justice.
ELBOW, a simple Constable.
FROTH, a foolish Gentleman.
Clown, Servant to Mrs. Over-done.
ABHORSON, an Executioner.
BARNARDINE, a dissolute Prisoner.
ISABELLA, sister to Claudio.
MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo.
JULIET, beloved of Claudio.
FRANCISCA, a Nun.
Mistress OVER-DONE, a Bawd.
Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other Attendants
SCENE: Vienna.
(12)




MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.-An Apartment in the DUKE'S Palace.
Enter DUKE, ESCALTUS, Lords, and Attendants.
D KE.
E SCALUS!
Escalus. My lord.
Duke. Of government the properties to unfold,
Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse;
Since I am put to know, that your own science
Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice
My strength can give you; then no more remains
But that, to your sufficiency, — as your worth is
able, -
And let them work. The nature of our people,
Our city's institutions, and the terms
For common justice, y' are as pregnant in
As art and practice hath enriched any
That we remember. There is our commission,
From which we would not have you warp. — Call
hither,
I say, bid come before us Angelo.[Exit an Attendant.
(13)




14       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
What figure of us think you he will bear?
For you must know, we have with special soul
Elected him our absence to supply,
Lent him our terror, drest him with our love,
And given his deputation all the organs
Of our own power. What think you of it?
Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth
To undergo such ample grace and honour,
It is Lord Angelo.
Enter ANGELO.
Duke. Look, where he comes.
Angelo.  Always obedient to your Grace's will,
I come to know your pleasure.
Duke.                        Angelo,
There is a kind of character in thy life,
That, to th' observer, doth thy history
Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings
Are not thine own so proper, as to waste
Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.
Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us,'twere all alike
As if we had them  not.  Spirits are not finely
touch'd,
But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
Herself the glory of a creditorBoth thanks and use. But I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him advertise:
Hold, therefore, Angelo, [our place and power:]
In our remove, be thou at full ourself:
Mortality and mercy in Vienna
Live in thy tongue and heart.  Old Escalus,




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                15
Though first in question, is thy secondary:
Take thy commission.
Ang.               Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my metal,
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamp'd upon it.
Duke.             No more evasion:
We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition,
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd
Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,
As time and our concernings shall importune,
How it goes with us; and do look to know
What doth befall you here. So, fare you well:
To th' hopeful execution do I leave you
Of your commissions.
Ang.               Yet, give leave, my lord,
That we may bring you something on the way.
Duke. My haste may not admit it;
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,
So to enforce or qualify the laws
As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand.
I'll privily away: I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes.
Though it do well, I do not relish well
Their loud applause, and aves vehement;
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion,
That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.
Ang. The Heavens give safety to your purposes!Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in happiness!
Duke. I thank you. Fare you well.       [Exit.
Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave




16       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT 1.
To have free speech with you; and it concerns me
To look into the bottom of my place.
A power I have, but of what strength and nature
I am not yet instructed.
Ang.'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,
And we may soon our satisfaction have
Touching that point.
Escal.             I'll wait upon your honour.
[Exezunt.
SCENE II.
A Street.
Enter LucIO and two Gentlemen.
Lucio. If the Duke, with the other dukes, come
not to composition with the King of Hungary, why
then, all the dukes fall upon the King.
1 Gentleman. Heaven grant us its peace, but not
the King of Hungary's 
2 Gent. Amen.
Lucio. Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten Commandments,
but scrap'd one out of the table.
2 Gent. "Thou shalt not steal?
Lucio. Ay, that he raz'd.
1 Gent. Why,'twas a commandment to command
the captain and all the rest from  their functions:
they put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us
all, that, in the thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the petition well that prays for peace.
2 Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it.
Lucio. I believe thee; for I think thou never
wast where grace was said.
2 Gent. No? a dozen times at least.




EC. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                     17
1 Gent.  What, in metre?
Lucio.  In any proportion, or in any language.
1 Gent.  I think, or in any religion.
Lucio.  Ay; why not?  Grace is grace, despite of
all controversy: as for example; thou thyself art a
wicked villain, despite of all grace.
1 Gent.  Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.
Lucio.  I grant; as there may between the lists
and the velvet: thou art the list.
1 Gent.  And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet: thou'rt a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee. I
had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be pil'd,
as thou art pil'd, for a French velvet.  Do I speak
feelingly now?
Lucio.  I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most
painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own
confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I
live, forget to drink after thee.
1 Gent.  I think I have done myself wrong; have
I not?
2 Gent.  Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art
tainted or free.
Lucio.  Behold, behold, where Madam  Mitigation
comes!
1 Gent.  I have purchas'd as many diseases under
her roof as come to 
2 Gent.  To what, I pray?
Lucio.  Judge.
2 Gent.  To three thousand dolours a-year.
1 Gent.  Ay, and more.
Lucio.  A French crown more.
1 Gent.  Thou art always figuring diseases in me;
but thou art full of error: I am sound.
VOL. III.               B




18       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT T.
Lucio.  Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but
so sound as things that are hollow: thy bones are
hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee.
Enter Bawd.
1 Gent. How now? Which of your hips has the
most profound sciatica;
Bawd. Well, well; there's one yonder arrested
and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of
you all.
2 Gent. Who's that, I pr'ythee?
Bawd. Marry, sir, that's Claudio; Signior Claudio.
1 Gent. Claudio to prison!'tis not so.
Bawd. Nay, but I know,'tis so: I saw him arrested; saw him carried away; and, which is more,
within these three days his head's to be chopp'd
off.
Luciv. But, after all this fooling, I would not have
it so. Art thou sure of this?
Bawd. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting
Madam Julietta with child.
Lucio.  Believe me, this may be: he promis'd to
meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in
promise-keeping.
2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something
near to the speech we had to such a purpose.
1 Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.
Lucio. Away; let's go learn the truth of it.
[Exeunt LuCIO and Gentlemen.
Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with the
sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty,
I am custom-shrunk.  How now? what's the news
with you?




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 19
Enter Clown.
Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison.
Bawd. Well, what has he done?
Clo. A woman.
Bawd.  But what's his offehce?
Clo. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.
Bawd.  What, is there a maid with child by
him?
Clo.  No; but there's a woman with maid by
him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have
you?
Bawd. What proclamation, man?
Clo. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must
be pluck'd down.
Bawd.  And what shall become of those in the
city?
Clo. They shall stand for seed: they had gone
down, too, but that a wise burgher put in for them.
Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the
suburbs be pull'd down?
Clo. To the ground, mistress.
Bawd. Why, here's a change, indeed, in the comnonwealth! What shall become of me?
Clo. Come; fear not you: good counsellors lack
no clients. Though you change your place, you need
not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still.
Courage! there will be pity taken on you; you that
have worn your eyes almost out in the service: you
will be considered.
Bawd. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's
withdraw.
Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provost to prison; and there's Madam Juliet.  [Exeunt.




20        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
SCENE III.
The Same.
Enter Provost, CLAUTDIO, JULIET, and Officers;
LvcIo, and two Gentlemen.
Claudio.  Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to
th' world?
Bear me to prison, where I am committed.
Provost. I do it not in evil disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by special charge.
Claud.  Thus can the demi-god, Authority,
Make us pay down for our offence by weight.The words of Heaven;- on whom it will, it will;
On whom it will not, so: yet still'tis just.
Lucio.  Why, how now, Claudio? whence comes
this restraint?
Claud.  From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
As surfeit is the father of much fast,
So every scope by the immoderate use
Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,
Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
A thirsty evil, and when we drink, we die.
Lucio.  If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors.  And
yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery
of freedom as the morality of imprisonment.- What's
thy offence, Claudio?
Claud. What, but to speak of, would offend again.
Lucio.  What is it? murther?
Claud. No.
Lucio.  Lechery?
Claud. Call it so.
Prov.  Away, sir: you must go.




sc. III.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 21
Claud.  One word, good friend. - Lucio, a word
with you.                 [Takes him aside.
Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. -
Is lechery so look'd after?
Claud. Thus stands it with me: -Upon a true
contract,
I got possession of Julietta's bed:
You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
Save that we do the denunciation lack
Of outward order: this we came not to,
Only for preservation of a dow'r
Remaining in the coffer of her friends,
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love,
Till time had made them for us. But it chances,
The stealth of our most mutual entertainment,
With character too gross,is writ on Juliet.
Lucio. With child, perhaps?
Claud.                       Unhappily, even so.
And the new deputy now for the Duke, -
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,
Or whether that the body public be
A horse whereon the Governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the tyranny be in his place,
Or in his eminence that fills it up,
I stagger in; — but this new Governor
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties,
Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall
So long, that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
Now puts the drowsy and neglected Act
Freshly on me: —'tis surely, for a name.
Lucio. I warrant it is; and thy head stands so
tickle on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, if she be




22       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
in love, may sigh it off. Send after the Duke, and
appeal to him.
Claud. I have done so, but he's not to be found.
I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service.
This day my sister should the cloister enter,
And there receive her approbation:
Acquaint her with the danger of my state;
Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
To the strict deputy: bid herself assay him:
I have great hope in that; for in her youth
There is a prone and speechless dialect,
Such as moves men: beside, she hath prosperous art,
When she will play with reason and discourse,
And well she can persuade.
Lucio.  I pray she may: as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under
grievous imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life,
which I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost
at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her -
Claud.  I thank you, good friend Lucio,Lucio. -within two hours.
Claud.        Come, Officer; away!   [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Monastery.
Enter DUKE and Friar THOMAS.
Duke. No, holy Father; throw away that thought:
Believe not that the dribbling dart of Love
Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth




sc. IV.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  23
Friar.           May your Grace speak of it?
Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd;
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies,
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is receiv'd. Now, pious sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this?
Fri. Gladly, my lord.
Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting
laws,
(The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,)
Which for this fourteen years we have let sleep,
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave,
That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch
Only to stick it in their children's sight
For terror, not to use, in time the rod
[Becomes] more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose,
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.
Fri.             It rested in your Grace
To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas'd,
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
Than in Lord Angelo.
Duke.                I do fear, too dreadful:
Sith'twas my fault to give the people scope,'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
For what I bid them do.: for we bid this be done,




24        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
When evil deeds have their permissive pass,
And not the punishment.  Therefore, indeed, my Father,
I have on Angelo impos'd the office,
Who may, in th' ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the fight,
To do in slander. And to behold his sway,
I will, as'twere a brother of your order,
Visit both Prince and people: therefore, I pr'ythee,
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person bear
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action,
At our more leisure shall I render you;
Only, this one:- Lord Angelo is precise;
Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
A Nunnery.
Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA.
Isabella. And have you nuns no farther privileges?
Francisca.  Are not these large enough?
Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more,
But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of St. Clare.
Lucio. [Within.] Hoa! Peace be in this place!
Isab.                   Who's that which calls?
Fran.  It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his business of him:
You may; I may not: you are yet unsworn.




sc. V.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE,                  25
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men,
But in the presence of the Prioress:
Then, if you speak, you must not show your face;
Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
He calls again: I pray you, answer him.
[Exit FRANCISCA.
Isab.  Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls?
Enter LuCIo.
Lucio.  Hail, virgin, if you be,- as those cheekroses
Proclaim you are no less: Can you so stead me,
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio?
Isab. Why her unhappy brother? Let me ask,
The rather, for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella, and his sister.
Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets
you.
Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.
Isab. Woe me! for what?
Lucio.  For that, which, if myself might be his
judge,
He should receive his punishment in thanks.
He hath got his friend with child.
Isab.  Sir, make me not your story.
Lucio.'Tis true. I would not (though'tis my familiar sin
With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest,
Tongue far from heart) play with all virgins so:
I hold you as a thing enski'd, and sainted
By your renouncement,- an immortal spirit,
And to be talked with in sincerity,
As with a saint.
B2




26       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
Isab. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.
Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,'tis
thus:
Your brother and his lover have embrac'd:
As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time,
That from the seedness the bare fallow brings
To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb
Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.
isab. Some one with child by him? - My cousin
Juliet?
Lucio. Is she your cousin?
Isab. Adoptedly: as school-maids change their
names
By vain though apt affection.
Lucio.                      She it is.
Isab. 0! let him marry her.
Lucio.                        This is the point.
The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;
-Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn
By those that know the very nerves of state,
His givings-out were of an infinite distance
From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
And with full line of his authority,
Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood
Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
The wanton stings and motions of the sense,
But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
With profits of the mind, study, and fast.
He (to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have, for long, run by the hideous law,
As mice by lions) hath pick'd out an Act,
Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it,
And follows close the rigour of the statute,




sc. v.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 27
To make him an example. All hope is gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo; and that's my pith
Of business'twixt you and your poor brother.
Isab. Doth he so seek his life?
Lucio.                         Has censur'd him
Already; and, as I hear, the Provost hath
A warrant for his execution.
Isab. Alas! what poor ability's in me
To do him good?
Lucio.          Assay the power you have.
Isab. My power! Alas! I doubt, —
Lucio.                  Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,
Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as freely theirs
As they themselves would owe them.
Isab. I'll see what I can do.
Lucio.                         But speedily.
Isab. I will about it straight,
No longer staying but to give the Mother
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:
Commend me to my brother: soon at night
I'll send him certain word of my success.
Lucio.  I take my leave of you.
Isab.                           Good sir, adieu.
[Exeunt.




28       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
ACT II.
SCENE I.-A Hall in ANGELO'S House.
Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, a Justice, Officers, and
other Attendants.
ANGELO.
W     5E must not make a scare-crow of the law,
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.
Escal.                        Ay, but yet
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
Than fall and bruise to death. Alas! this gentleman
Whom I would save had a most noble father.
Let but your honour know,
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,)
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of your blood
Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not, sometime in your life,
Err'd in this point where now you censure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.
Ang.'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny,
The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
Guiltier than him they try; what's open made
To justice, that justice seizes: what knows the law,
That thieves do pass on thieves?'Tis very pregnant,




sc. 1.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 29
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't,
Because we see it; but what we do not see,
We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence
For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
When I that censure him do so offend,
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
Escal.  Be it as your wisdom will.
Ang.                     Where is the Provost?
Enter Provost.
Prov.  Here, if it like your honour.
Ang.                           See that Claudio
Be executed by nine to-morrow morning.
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd,
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.
[Exit Provost.
Escal. Well, Heaven forgive him, and forgive us
all!
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:
Some run from brakes of vice and answer none;
And some condemned for a fault alone.
Enter ELBOW, FROTH, Clown, Officers, 4-c.
Elbow. Come, bring them away. If these be good
people in a common-weal, that do nothing but use
their abuses in common houses, I know  no law:
bring them away.
Ang. How  now, sir! What's your name, and
what's the matter?
Elb. If it please your honour, I am  the poor
Duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean
upon justice, sir; and do bring in here before your
good honour two notorious benefactors.




30        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT II.
Ang.  Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are
they? are they not malefactors?
Elb.  If it please your honour, I know not well
what they are; but precise villains they are, that I
am sure of, and void of all profanation in the world,
that good Christians ought to have.
Escal.  This comes off well: here's a wise officer.
Ang.  Go to: what quality are they of?  Elbow
is your name: why dost thou not speak, Elbow?
Clo.  He cannot, sir: he's out at elbow.
Ang.  What are you, sir?
Elb.  He, sir? a tapster, sir- parcel-bawd; one
that serves a bad woman, whose house, sir, was, as
they say, pluck'd down in the suburbs; and now she
professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill
house too.
Escal.  How know you that?
Elb.  My wife, sir, whom I detest before Heaven
and your honour, 
Escal.  How! thy wife?
Elb.  Ay, sir; whom, I thank Heaven, is an honest woman, -
Escal.  Dost thou detest her therefore?
Elb.  I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well
as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house
it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.
Escal.  How dost thou know that, Constable?
Elb.  Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been
a woman cardinally given, might have been accus'd in
fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.
Escal.  By the woman's means?
Elb.  Ay, sir, by Mistress Over-done's means; but
as she spit in his face, so she defi'd him.
Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.




BC. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  31
Elb.  Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it.
Escal. [To ANGELO.] Do you hear how he misplaces?
Clo.  Sir, she came in great with child, and longing  (saving your honour's reverence) for stew'd
prunes: sir, we had but- two in the house, which
at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruitdish, - a dish of some three pence: your honours
have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes,
but very good dishes.
Escal.  Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.
Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right; but to the point. As I say, this
Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being
great belly'd, and longing, as I said, for prunes, and
having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth
here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said,
and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; — for,
as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you
three pence again.
Froth.  No, indeed.
Clo. Very well: you being then, if you be remember'd, cracking the stones of the'foresaid prunes.
Froth.  Ay, so I did, indeed.
Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you
be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one,
were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they
kept very good diet, as I told you.
Froth.  All this is true.
Clo. Why, very well then.
Escal.  Come; you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. -What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath
cause to complain of?  Come we to what was done
to her.




32        MEASURE  FOR MEASURE.   ACT II.
Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.
Escal.  No, sir, nor I mean it not.
Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master
Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year,
whose father died at Hallowmas.- Was't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth?
Froth.  All-hallownd eve.
Clo. Why, very well: I hope here be truths. He,
sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; —'twas
in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a
delight to sit, have you not?
Froth.  I have so; because it is an open room,
and good for winter.
Clo. Why, very well then: I hope here be truths.
Ang.  This will last out a night in Russia,
When nights are longest there.  I'll take my leave,
And leave you to the hearing of the cause,
Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.
Escal.  I think no less.  Good morrow  to your
lordship.                     [Exit ANGELO.
Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife,
once more?
Clo.  Once, sir? there was nothing done to her
once.
Elb.  I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man
did to my wife.
Clo.  I beseech your honour, ask me.
Escal. Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her?
Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's
face. -Good Master Froth, look upon his honour;'tis for a good purpose.  Doth your honour mark
his face?
Escal. Ay, sir, very well.
Clo.  Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.




SC. I.    MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE.                   33
Escal.  Well, I do so.
Clo.  Doth your honour see any harm in his face?
Escal.  Why, no.
Clo. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the
worst thing about him.  Good then; if his face be
the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth
do the constable's wife any harm?  I would know
that of your honour.
Escal.  He's in the right, Constable; what say you
to it?
Elb.  First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow, and his
mistress is a respected woman.
Clo.  By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.
Elb.  Varlet, thou liest: thou liest, wicked varlet.
The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.
Clo.  Sir, she was respected with him, before he
married with her.
Escal.  Which is the wiser here?  Justice, or Iniquity? - Is this true?
Elb.  0  thou caitiff!  0  thou varlet! 0  thou
wicked Hannibal! I respected with her, before I
was married to her! — If ever I was respected with
her, or she with me, let not your worship think me
the poor Duke's officer. - Prove this, thou wicked
Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.
Escal.  If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might
have your action of slander too.
Elb.  Marry, I thank your good worship for it.
What is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with
this wicked caitiff?
Escal.  Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him  that thou would'st discover if thou
VOL. III.               C




34       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT lI.
could'st, let him continue in his courses, till thou
know'st what they are.
Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it. —Thou
seest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon
thee: thou art to continue; now, thou varlet, thou
art to continue.
Escal. Where were you born, friend?
Froth. Here in Vienna, sir.
Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year?
Froth. Yes, an't please you, sir.
Escal.  So. -What trade are you of, sir?
Clo. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.
Escal. Your mistress' name?
Clo. Mistress Over-done.
Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband?
Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.
Escal. Nine! — Come hither to me, Master Froth.
Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with
tapsters; they will draw you, Master Froth, and you
will hang them: get you gone, and let me hear no
more of you.
Froth. I thank your worship. For mine own part,
I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am
drawn in.
Escal. Well; no more of it, Master Froth: farewell.  [Exit FROTH.] - Come you hither to me, Mr.
Tapster. What's your name, Mr. Tapster?
Clo. Pompey.
Escal. What else?
Clo. Bum, sir.
Escal.'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing
about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are
Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd,
Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster.




SC. I.    MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE.                  35
Are you not? come, tell me true: it shall be the
better for you.
Clo.  Truly, sir, I am  a poor fellow  that would
live.
Escal.  How would you live, Pompey? by being
a bawd?  What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?
Clo.  If the law would allow it, sir.
Escal.  But the law  will not allow it, Pompey;
nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.
Clo.  Does your worship mean to geld and spay
all the youth of the city?
Escal.  No, Pompey.
Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't
then. If your worship will take order for the drabs
and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.
Escal.  There are pretty orders beginning, I can
tell you: it is but heading and hanging.
Clo.  If you head and hang all that offend that
way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give
out a commission for more heads.  If this law hold
in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it
after three pence a day! If you live to see this come
to pass, say Pompey told you so.
Escal.  Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you:    I advise you,
let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you
do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent,
and prove a shrewd Caesar to you. In plain dealing,
Pompey, I shall have you whipp'd.  So, for this
time, Pompey, fare you well.
Clo.  I thank your worship for your good counsel, but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune
shall better determine.




36       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade;
The valiant heart's not whipp'd out of his trade.
[Exit.
Escal.  Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come
hither, Master Constable.  How long have you been
in this place of constable?
Elb.  Seven year and a half, sir.
Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the office,
you had continued in it some time. You say, seven
years together?
Elb.  And a half, sir.
Escal.  Alas! it hath been great pains to you.
They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't.  Are
there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?
Elb.'Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters.
As they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for
them: I do it for some piece of money, and go
through with all.
Escal.  Look you bring me in the names of some
six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.
Elb. To your worship's house, sir?
Escal.  To my house.  Fare you well.
[Exit ELBOW.
What's o'clock, think you?
Justice. Eleven, sir.
Escal.  I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just.  I humbly thank you.
Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio;
But there's no remedy.
Just.  Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal.                        It is but needful:
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.
But yet, poor Claudio! - There is no remedy.
Come, sir.                                [Exeunt.




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 37
SCENE II.
Another Room in the Same.
Enter Provost and a Servant.
Servant.  He's hearing of a cause: he will come
straight.
I'll tell him of you.
Prov.'Pray you, do.  [Exit Servant.]  I'll know
His pleasure; may be, he will relent. Alas!
He hath offended but as in a dream:
All sects, all ages smack of this vice, and he
To die for it!Enter ANGELO.
Ang.           Now, what's the matter, Provost?
Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?
Ang.  Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not
order?
Why dost thou ask again?
Prov.                   Lest I might be too rash.
Under your good correction, I have seen
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.
Ang.                   Go to; let that be mine:
Do you your office, or give up your place;
And you shall well be spar'd.
Prov.               I crave your honour's pardon.
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.
Ang.                    Dispose of her
ro some more fitter place, and that with speed.




38       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd
Desires access to you.
Ang.                 Hath he a sister?
Prov.  Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
If not already.
Ang.         Well, let her be admitted.
[Exit Servant.
See you the fornicatress be remov'd:
Let her have needful but not lavish means;
There shall be order for't.
Enter Lucio and ISABELLA.
Prov.'Save your honour!   [Offering to retire.
Ang.  Stay a little while. — [To ISAB.]  Y' are
welcome: what's your will?
Isab.  I am a woeful suitor to your honour,'Please but your honour hear me.
Ang.                     Well, what's your suit?
Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice,
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war'twixt will and will not.
Ang.                          Well; the matter 
Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.
Prov.  [Aside.]  Heaven give thee moving graces 
Ang.  Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?
Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done.
Mine were the very cipher of a function,
To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 39
Isab.                  O just, but severe law!
I had a brother then.- Heaven keep your honour!
[Retiring.
Lucio.  [To ISAB.]  Give't not o'er so: to him
again, intreat him;
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it.
To him, I say.
Isab. Must he needs die?
Ang.                       Maiden, no remedy.
Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither Heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.
Isab.                But can you, if you would?
Ang. Look; what I will not, that I cannot do.
Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no
wrong,
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him?
Ang. He's sentenc'd:'tis too late.
Lucio.             [To ISAB.]  You are too cold.
Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it [back] again: Well, believe this;
No ceremony that to great ones'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does.
If he had been as you, and you as he,
You would have slipp'd like him; but he like you
Would not have been so stern.
Ang.                         Pray you, begone.
Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?




40       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
No; I would tell what'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.
Lucio. [Aside.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.
Isab.                         Alas! alas!
Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
And he that might the vantage best have took
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment should
But judge you as you are? 0, think on that,
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made!
Ang.                Be you content, fair maid.
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him: he must die to-morrow.
Isab. To-morrow? 0, that's sudden! Spare him,
spare him!
He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve Heaven
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves?  Good, good my lord, bethink
you:
Who is it that hath di'd for this offence?
There's many have committed it.
Lucio.                 [Aside.]  Ay, well said.
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath
slept:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If [but] the first that did th' edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed: now,'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 41
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But ere they live to end.
Isab.                   Yet show some pity.
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice;
For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall,
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied:
Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.
Isab.  So you must be the first that gives this
sentence,
And he that suffers. 0! it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.
Lucio.                [Aside.]  That's well said.
Isab.  Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder;
Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven!
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,His glassy essence, — like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Lucio.  [To ISAB.]  0, to him, to him, wench!
He will relent:
He's coming; I perceive't.
Prov.      [Aside.]'Pray Heaven, she win him!
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
C2




42        MEASURE  FOR MEASURE.   ACT II.
Great men may jest with saints:'tis wit in them,
But in the less, foul profanation.
Lucio.  [To ISAB.]  Thou'rt i' the right, girl:
more o' that.
Isab.  That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio.  [Aside.]  Art avis'd o' that? more on't.
Ang.  Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab, Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bosom;
Knock there, and ask your heart, what it doth know
That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.
Ang.                [Aside.]  She speaks, and'tis
Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.  [To her.]
Fare you well.
Isab.  Gentle my lord, turn back.
Ang. I will bethink me. - Come again to-morrow.
Isab.  Hark, how I'll bribe you.  Good my lord,
turn back.
Ang.  How! bribe me?
Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that Heaven shall share
with you.
Lucio.  [Aside.]  You had marr'd all else.
Isab.  Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at Heaven, and enter there
Ere sun-rise: prayers from preserved souls,
From  fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.
Ang.                Well; come to me to-morrow.




sc. II.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  43
Lucio.  [To ISAB.]  Go to;'tis well: away!
Isab.  Heaven keep your honour safe!
Ang.                           [Aside.]  Amen:
For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers cross.
Isab.               At what hour to-morrow
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.                     At any time'fore noon.
Isab.  Save your honour!
[Exeunt LuCIO, ISABELLA, and Provost.
Ang.        From thee: even from thy virtue! -
What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most?  Ha!
Not she, nor doth she tempt; but it is I,
That lying by the violet in the sun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness?  Having waste ground
enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there?  0, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? 0, let her brother live!
Thieves for their robbery have authority,
When judges steal themselves. What! do I love her,
That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes?  What is't I dream on?
0 cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid




44       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
Subdues me quite. - Ever, till now,
When men were fond, I smil'd and wonder'd how.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
A Room in a Prison.
Enter DUKE, habited like a Friar, and Provost.
Duke. Hail to you, Provost; so I think you are.
Prov. I am the Provost. What's your will, good
friar?
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me see them, and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.
Prov.  I would do more than that, if more were
needful.
Enter JULIET.
Look; here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
Who, falling in the flames of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report. She is with child,
And he that got it, sentenc'd-a young man
More fit to do another such offence
Than die for this.
Duke. When must he die?
Prov.              As I do think, to-morrow. —
[ To JULIET.]  I have provided for you: stay a while,
And you shall be conducted.
Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?.luliet. I do, and bear the shame most patiently.
Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your
conscience,




SC. IV.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  45
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on.
Juliet.            I'll gladly learn.
Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you?
Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.
Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act
Was mutually committed?
Juliet.                  Mutually.
Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.
Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, Father.
Duke.'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do
repent,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame;
Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not Heaven,
Showing we would not spare Heaven as we love it,
But as we stand in fear, -
Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil,
And take the shame with joy.
Duke.                        There rest.
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace go with you! Benedicite!             [Exit.
Juliet.  Must die to-morrow! 0, injurious law,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
Prov.'Tis pity of him.    [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Room in ANGELO's House.
Enter ANGELO.
Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and
pray




46       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
To several subjects: Heaven hath my empty words,
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name,
And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception. The State, whereon I studied,
Is, like a good thing being often read,
Grown sear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume
Which the air beats for vain.  0 place! 0 form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,'Tis not the devil's crest.
Enter Servant.
How now! who's there?
Serv.                  One Isabel, a Sister,
Desires access to you.
Ang.            Teach her the way.  [Exit Serv.
O Heavens!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself,
And dispossessing all my other parts
Of necessary fitness?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even so
The general, subject to a well-wish'd King,
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.




sc. IV.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 47
Enter ISABELLA.
How now, fair maid?
Isab.         I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang.  That you might know it, would much better
please me
Than to demand what'tis. Your brother cannot live.
Isab.  Even so. -Heaven keep your honour!
[Retiring.
Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be,
As long as you, or I: yet he must die.
Isab. Under your sentence?
Ang.  Yea.
Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted,
That his soul sicken not.
Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices!  It were as
good
To pardon him that hath from Nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit
Their saucy sweetness that do coin Heaven's image
In stamps that are forbid.'Tis all as easy
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put metal in restrained means,
To make a false one.
Isab.'Tis set down so in Heaven, but not in Earth.
Ang.  Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most just law
Now took your brother's life, or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness
As she that he hath stain'd?
Isab.                      Sir, believe this:
I had rather give my body than my soul.
Ang. I talk not of your soul. Our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than for accompt.




48        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
Isab.                              How say you?
Ang.  Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say.  Answer to this: —
I (now the voice of the recorded law)
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
Might there not be a charity in sin,
To save this brother's life?
Isab.                      Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul:
It is no sin at all, but charity.
Ang.  Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your soul,
Were equal poise of sin and charity.
Isab.  That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit,
If that be sin, I'll make it my morn-prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.
Ang.                         Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seem so, crafty; and that is not good.
Isab.  Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang.  Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright
When it doth tax itself: as these black masks
Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could, displayed. —But mark me:
To be received plain, I'll speak more gross.
Your brother is to die.
Isab. So.
Ang.  And his offence is so, as it appears
Accountant to the law upon that pain.
Isab. True.
Ang.  Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,)
But - in the loss of question - that you, his sister




sc. Iv.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  49
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-holding law, and that there were
No earthly mean to save him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this suppos'd, or else to let him suffer,
What would you do?
Isab.  As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I've been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.
Ang.                  Then must
Your brother die.
Isab. And'twere the cheaper way.
Better it were, a brother di'd at once,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.
Ang.  Were not you, then, as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd so?
Isab.  Ignomy in ransom and free pardon
Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing akin to foul redemption.
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment, than a vice.
Isab.  0, pardon me, my lord! it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what
we mean.
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab.                   Else let my brother die,
VOL. III.        D




50       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IT.
If not a feodary but only he
Owe and succeed thy weakness.
Ang.                    Nay, women are frail too.
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves,
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women!- Help Heaven! men their creation mar
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.
Ang.                        I think it well;
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger,
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold:
I do arrest your words.  Be that you are,
That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.
Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang.  Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet: and you tell me,
That he shall die for't.
Ang. He shall not. Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab. I know, your virtue hath a license in't,
Which seems a little fouler than it is,
To pluck on others.
Ang.               Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose! - Seeming, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world aloud
What man thou art.




sc. IV.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 51
Ang.               Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the State,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race the rein:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite:
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, -
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.
[Exit
Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths!
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof,
Bidding the law make court'sy to their will,
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow as it draws. I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest.
[ Exit.




52       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT III.
ACT  III.
SCENE I.   A Room in the Prison.
Enter DUKE, as a Friar, CLAUDIO, and Provost.
D KE.
SO  then, you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope.
I've hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.
Duke. Be absolute for death; either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: -
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skyey influences
That dost this habitation where thou keep'st
Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art Death's Fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet run'st toward him still: thou art not noble;
For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness: thou art by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm: thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more: thou art not thyself;
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust: happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get,
And what thou hast, forget'st: thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon: if thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,




SC. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  53
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And Death unloads thee: friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: thou hast nor youth
nor age,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsi'd eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant.  What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Claud.                       I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die,
And seeking death, find life: let it come on.
Isab.  [Without.] What, hoa! Peace here; grace
and good company!
Prov.  Who's there? come in: the wish deserves
a welcome.
Enter ISABELLA.
Duke.  Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud.  Most holy sir, I thank you.
Isab.  My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov.  And very welcome. Look, signior; here's
your sister.
Duke.  Provost, a word with you.
Prov.                    As many as you please.
Duke.  Bring me to hear them speak, where I may
be conceal'd.    [Exeunt DUKE and Provost.
Claud.  Now, sister, what's the comfort?




54        MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III
Isab.  Why, as all comforts are; most good, most
good indeed.
Lord Angelo, having affairs to Heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore, your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.
Claud.                Is there no remedy?
Isab.  None, but such remedy, as to save a head,
To cleave a heart in twain.
Claud.                    But is there any?
Isab.  Yes, brother, you may live:
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.
Claud.                  Perpetual durance?
Isab. Ay, just; perpetual durance: a restraint 
Though all the world's vastidity you hadTo a determin'd scope.
Claud.               But in what nature?
Isab.  In such a one as, you consenting to't,
Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,
And leave you naked.
Claud.               Let me know the point.
Isab.  0! I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect,
Than a perpetual honour.  Dar'st thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.
Claud.             Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  55
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.
Isab.  There spake my brother: there my father's
grave
Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth emmew
As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as Hell.
Claud.                 The priestly Angelo?
Isab. 0,'tis the cunning livery of Hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In priestly guards! Dost thou think, Claudio!
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed.
Claud.                0, Heavens! it cannot be.
Isab.  Yes, he would give't thee from  this rank
offence,
So to offend him still.  This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claud.                      Thou shalt not do't.
Isab.  O! were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.
Claud.             Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
Claud.  Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose,
When he would force it?  Sure, it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab. Which is the least?




56        MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III
Claud.  If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd? — O Isabel!
Isab.  What says my brother?
Claud.                    Death is a fearful thing.
Isab.  And shamed life a hateful.
Claud.  Ay, but to die, and go we know  not
where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be, worse than worst,
Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine, howling! —'tis too horrible.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
Isab.  Alas! alas!
Claud.              Sweet sister, let me live.
What sin you do to save a brother's life,
Nature dispenses with the deed so far,
That it becomes a virtue.
Isab.                    0, you beast!
0, faithless coward! 0, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest to take life
From  thine own sister's shame?  What should I
think?
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness




8C. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  57
Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance:
Die; perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed.
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.
Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isab.                          0, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:'Tis best that thou diest quickly.         [Going.
Claud.                      O hear me, Isabella!
Enter DUKE.
Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young Sister; but one
word.
Isab. What is your will?
Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I
would by and by have some speech with you: the
satisfaction I would require is likewise your own
benefit.
Isab.  I have no superfluous leisure: my stay must
be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you
a while.
Duke. [ To CLAUDIO.] Son, I have overheard what
hath pass'd between you and your sister. Angelo had
never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made
an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgment with
the disposition of natures. She, having the truth of
honour in her, hath made him  that gracious denial
which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to
Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare
yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with
hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die. Go
to your knees, and make ready.
D2




58       MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT  II.
Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so
out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.
Duke. Hold you there: farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO,
Enter Provost.
Provost, a word with you.
Prov. What's your will, Father?
Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone.
Leave me a while with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my
company.
Prov. In good time.              [Exit Provost.
Duke. The hand that hath made you fair hath
made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being
the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of
it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to
you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and,
but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should
wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this
substitute and to save your brother?
Isab. I am now going to resolve him. I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should
be unlawfully born. But 0, how much is the good
Duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and I
can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or
discover his government.
Duke. That shall not be much amiss; yet, as the
matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation:he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten your ear
on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good,
a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe,
that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged
lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother from the




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                    52
angry law, do no stain to your own gracious person,
and much please the absent Duke, if, peradventure,
he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.
Isab. Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit
to do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of
my spirit.
Duke.  Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of
Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried at sea?
Isab.  I have heard of the lady, and good words
went with her name.
Duke.  She should this Angelo have married; was
affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed:
between which time of the contract and limit of the
solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrack'd at sea,
having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister.  But mark how heavily this befell to the poor
gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned
brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and
natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate
husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
Isab.  Can this be so?  Did Angelo so leave her?
Duke.  Left her in her tears, and dried not one of
them  with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole,
pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few,
bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet
wears for his sake, and he, a marble to her tears, is
washed with them, but relents not.
Isab.  What a merit were it in death to take this
poor maid from the world! What corruption in this
life, that it will let this man live!    But how  out
of this can she avail?
Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal;




60       MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT IIIl
and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but
keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
Isab.  Show me how, good Father.
Duke.  This fore-named maid hath yet in her the
continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love,
hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more
violent and unruly.  Go you to Angelo: answer his
requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his
demands to the point: only refer yourself to this
advantage, -first, that your stay with him may not
be long, that the time may have all shadow and silence
in it, and the place answer to convenience. This being
granted in course, and now follows all: we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment,
go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense;
and here by this is your brother saved, your honour
untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy foiled. The maid will I frame, and make
fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this
- as you may - the doubleness of the benefit defends
the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?
Isab.  The image of it gives me content already,
and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
Duke.  It lies much in your holding up. Haste
you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat
you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I
will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the Moated
Grange, resides this dejected Mariana: at that place
call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may
be quickly.
Isab. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well,
good Father.                     [Exeunt severally.




sc. ll.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                   61
SCENE II.
The Street before the Prison.
Enter DUKE as a Friar; to him ELBOW, Clown,
and Officers.
Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that
you will needs buy and sell men and women like
beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and
white bastard.
Duke.  O Heavens! what stuff is here?
Clo.'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a /furr'd gown to keep him
warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to
signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands
for the facing.
Elb.  Come your way, sir. -'Bless you, good Father friar.
Duke.  And you, good brother father.  What offence hath this man made you, sir?
Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and,
sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have
found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we
have sent to the Deputy.
Duke. Fie, sirrah: a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live.  Do thou but think
What'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending?  Go mend, go mend.




62        MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT TII.
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but
yet, sir, I would proveDuke.  Nay, if the Devil have given thee proofs
for sin,
Thou wilt prove his.  Take him to prison, officer:
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.
Elb. He must before the Deputy, sir; he has given
him  warning.  The Deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before
him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be,
[Free] from our faults, as from faults seeming free!
Enter Lucio.
Elb.  His neck will come to your waist  a cord,
sir.
Clo.  I spy comfort: I cry bail.  Here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine.
Lucio.  How now, noble Pompey!  What, at the
wheels of Caesar?  Art thou led in triumph?  What,
is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made
woman, to be had now, for, putting the hand in the
pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha!
What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method?
Is't not drown'd i' th' last rain? Ha! What say'st
thou, Trot?  Is the world as it was, man?  Which
is the way? Is it sad and few words, or how? The
trick of it?
Duke.  Still thus, and thus: still worse!
Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress?
Procures she still? Ha!
Clo.  Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef,
and she is herself in the tub.
Lucio.  Why,'tis good; it is the right of it; it




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 63
must be so: ever your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd: an unshunn'd consequence; it must be
so. Art going to prison, Pompey?
Clo. Yes, faith, sir.
Lucio. Why,'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell.
Go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey, or
how?
Elb.  For being a bawd, for being a bawd.
Lucio. Well, then imprison him. If imprisonment
be the due of a bawd, why,'tis his right: bawd is
he, doubtless, and of antiquity too — bawd-born.
Farewell, good Pompey; commend me to the prison,
Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey;
you will keep the house.
Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my
bail.
Lucio. No, indeed will I not, Pompey; it is not
the wear.  I will pray, Pompey, to increase your
bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your
mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. - Bless
you, Friar.
Duke. And you.
Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey?  Ha!
Elb.  Come your ways, sir; come.
Clo. You will not bail me then, sir?
Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. - What news
abroad, Friar?  What news?
Elb.  Come your ways, sir; come.
Lucio. Go; to kennel, Pompey, go.
[Exeunt ELBOW, Clown, and Officers.
What news, Friar, of the Duke?
Duke. I know none. Can you tell me of any?
Lucio. Some say, he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he,
think you?




64       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT TIT;
Duke. I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish
him well.
Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to
steal from the State, and usurp the beggary he was
never born to.  Lord Angelo dukes it well in his
absence: he puts transgression to't.
Duke. He does well in't.
Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do
no harm in him: something too crabbed that way,
Friar.
Duke.  It is too general a vice, and severity must
cure it.
Lucio.  Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great
kindred: it is well allied; but it is impossible to
extirp it quite, Friar, till eating and drinking be put
down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man
and woman, after this downright way of creation: is
it true, think you?
Duke.  How should he be made then?
Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him: some,
that he was begot between two stock-fishes; but it is
certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice: that I know to be true; and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.
Duke. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.
Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him,
for the rebellion of a cod-piece to take away the life
of a man?  Would the Duke that is absent have
done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the
getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for
the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the
sport: he knew the service, and that instructed him
to mercy.
Duke. I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women: he was not inclin'd that way.




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  65
Lucio. 0, sir! you are deceiv'd.
Duke.'Tis not possible.
Lucio. Who? not the Duke? yes, your beggar of
fifty; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clackdish.  The Duke had crotchets in him: he would be
drunk too; that let me inform you.
Duke.  You do him wrong, surely.
Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow
was the Duke; and, I believe, I know the cause of
his withdrawing.
Duke.  What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause?
Lucio. No, -pardon: -'tis a secret must be lock'd
within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you
understand, - the greater file of the subject held the
Duke to be wise.
Duke.  Wise? why, no question but he was.
Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.
Duke.  Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life, and the business
he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give
him  a better proclamation.  Let him  be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a
soldier.  Therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if
your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in your
malice.
Lucio. Sir, I know him and I love him.
Duke.  Love talks with better knowledge, and
knowledge with dearer love.
Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know.
Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know
not what you speak.  But, if ever the Duke return,'as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to
make your answer before him: if it be honest you
VOL. III.              E




66       MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III
have spoke, you have courage to maintain it. I am
bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your
name?
Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the
Duke.
Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may
live to report you.
Lucio. I fear you not.
Duke. O! you hope the Duke will return no more,
or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But,
indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this
again.
Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceiv'd in
me, Friar.  But no more of this. Canst thou tell if
Claudio die to-morrow, or no?
Duke. Why should he die, sir?
Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-disb
I would the Duke, we talk of, we'e return'd again.
this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province
with continency; sparrows must not build in his
house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The Duke
yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd; he would
never bring them to light: would he were return'd!
Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing.
Farewell, good Friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The
Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fri
days. He's now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he
would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown
bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell.
[Exit
Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure'scape: back-wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes. What King so strong
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
But who comes here?




SC. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                   67
Enter ESCALUS, Provost, Bawd, and Officers.
Escal.  Go: away with her to prison!
Bawd.  Good my lord, be good to me; your honour
is accounted a merciful man, good my lord.
Escal.  Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear,
and play the tyrant.
Prov.  A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may
it please your honour.
Bawd.  My lord, this is one Lucio's information
against me. Mistress Kate Keep-down was with child
by him in the Duke's time: he promised her marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, come
Philip and Jacob.  I have kept it myself, and see
how he goes about to abuse me!
Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license:
— let him be call'd before us. - Away with her to
prison! Go to; no more words.  [Exeunt Bawd and
Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be
alter'd; Claudio must die to-morrow.  Let him  be
furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable preparation: if my brother wrought by my pity, it should
not be so with him.
Prov.  So please you, this friar hath been with
him, and advis'd him for th' entertainment of death.
Escal. Good even, good Father.
Duke.  Bliss and goodness on you.
Escal. Of whence are you?
Duke.  Not of this country, though my chance is now
To use it for my time: I am a Brother
Of gracious order, late come from the See,
In special business from his Holiness.
Escal. What news abroad i' th' world?




68       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT III.
Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on
goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it:
novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous
to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous
to be constant in any undertaking.  There is scarce
truth enough alive to make societies secure, but
security enough to make fellowships accurs'd. Much
upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This
news is old enough, yet it is every day's news.  I
pray you, sir, of what disposition was the Duke?
Escal.  One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.
Duke. What pleasure was he given to?
Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than
merry at any thing which profess'd to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we
him  to his events, with a prayer they may prove
prosperous, and let me desire to know how you find
Claudio prepar'd.  I am  made to understand that
you have lent him visitation.
Duke.  He professes to have received no sinister
measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles
himself to the determination of justice; yet had he
framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty,
many deceiving promises of life, which I, by my good
leisure, have discredited to him; and now is he resolv'd to die.
Escal.  You have paid the Heavens your function,
and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I
have labour'd for the poor gentleman to the extremest
shore of my modesty; but my brother justice have
I found so severe, that he hath forc'd me to tell
him, he is indeed - Justice.
Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                69
proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he
chance to fail, he hath sentenc'd himself.
Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare
you well.
Duke. Peace be with you!
[Exeunt EscALus and Provost.
He, who the sword of Heaven will bear,
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
More nor less to others paying,
Than by self offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice, and let his grow!
0, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!
How may likeness wade in crimes,
Making practice on the times,
To draw with idle spiders' strings
Most pond'rous and substantial things!
Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to-night shall lie
His old betrothed, but despised:
So disguise shall, by th' disguised,
Pay with falsehood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting.           [Exit.




70       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. —A Room at the Moated Grange.
MARIANA discovered sitting: a Boy singing.
SONG.
TFAKE, 0! take those lips away,
1    That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,
seal'd in vain.
Mari.  Break off thy song, and haste thee quick
away:
Here comes- a man of comfort, whose advice
Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. -
[Exit Boy.
Enter DUKE.
I cry you, mercy, sir, and well could wish
You had not found me here so musical:
Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe.
Duke.'Tis good: though music oft hath such a
charm,
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me
here to-day? Much upon this time have I promis'd
here to meet.
Mari. You have not been inquired after: I have
sat here all day.




8C. 1.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 71
Enter ISABELLA.
Duke. I do constantly believe you. - The time is
come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a
little: may be, I will call upon you anon for some
advantage to yourself.
Mari. I am always bound to you.          [Exit.
Duke. Very well met, and welcome.
What is the news from this good Deputy?
Isab. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick,
Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;
And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger key:
This other doth command a little door,
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;
There have I made my promise upon the heavy middle
of the night to call upon him.
Duke. But shall you on your knowledge find this
way?
Isab. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't:
With whispering and most guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice o'er.
Duke.             Are there no other tokens
Between you'greed, concerning her observance?
Isab. No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark;
And that I have possess'd him my most stay
Can be but brief: for I have made him know,
I have a servant comes with me along,
That stays upon me, whose persuasion is,
I come about my brother.
Duke.'Tis well borne up.
I have not yet made known to Mariana
A. word of this. - What, hoa! within! come forth.




72       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
Enter MARIANA.
I pray you, be acquainted with this maid:
She comes to do you good.
Isab.                     I do desire the like.
Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect
you?
Mari.  Good friar, I know  you do, and have
found it.
Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand,
Who hath a story ready for your ear.
I shall attend your leisure: but make haste;
The vaporous night approaches.
Mari.               Will't please you walk aside?
[Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA.
Duke. O place and greatness! millions of false eyes
Are stuck upon thee. Volumes of report
Run with these false and most contrarious quests
Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dream,
And rack thee in their fancies!
Enter MARIANA and ISABELLA.
Welcome! How agreed?
Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, Father,
If you advise it.
Duke.          It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too.
Isab.               Little have you to say,
When you depart from him, but, soft and low,'Remember now my brother.'
Mari.                     Fear me not.
Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all,
He is your husband on a pre-contract:




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                    73
To bring you thus together,'tis no sin,
Sith that the justice of your title to him
Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go:
Our corn's to reap, for yet our tilth's to sow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in the Prison.
Enter Provost and Clown.
Prov.  Come hither, sirrah.  Can you cut off a
man's head?
Clo. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if
he be a married man, he is his wife's head, and I
can never cut off a woman's head.
Prov.  Come, sir; leave me your snatches, and
yield me a direct answer.  To-morrow morning are
to die Claudio and Barnardine: here is in our prison
a common executioner, who in his office lacks a
helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it
shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall
have your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have
been a notorious bawd.
Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out
of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful
hangman.  I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow-partner.
Prov.  What hoa, Abhorson! Where's Abhorson,
there?
Enter ABHORS )x.
Abhorson.  Do you call, sir?
Prov.  Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you tomnorrow in your execution.  If you think it meet,
E2




X74      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT Tv.
compound with him by the year, and let him  abide
here with you; if not, use him for the present, and
dismiss him.  He cannot plead his estimation with
you: he hath been a bawd.
Abhor. A bawd, sir?  Fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery.
Prov.  Go to, sir; you weigh equally: a feather
will turn the scale.                         [Exit.
Clo. Pray, sir, by your good favour, (for, surely,
sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a
hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation a
mystery?
Abhor.  Ay, sir; a mystery.
Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my
occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation
a mystery; but what mystery there should be in
hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine.
Abhor.  Sir, it is a mystery.
Clo. Proof?
Abhor.  Every true man's apparel fits your thief.
Clo. If it be too little for your thief, your true
man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your
thief, your thief thinks it little enough; so, every
true man's apparel fits your thief.
Enter Provost.
Prov.  Are you agreed?
Clo.  Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your
hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd:
he doth oftener ask forgiveness.
Prov.  You, sirrah, provide your block and your
axe to-morrow, - four o'clock.
Abhor.  Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in
my trade: follow.




SC. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 75
Clo. I do desire to learn, sir; and, I hope, if you
have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall
find me yare; for, truly, sir, for your kindness I owe
you a good turn.
Prov.  Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:
[Exeunt Clown and ABHORSON.
Th' one has my pity; not a jot the other,
Being a murtherer, though he were my brother.
Enter CLAUDIO.
Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?
Claud.  As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour,
When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones:
He will not wake.
Prov.            Who can do good on him?
Well, go; prepare yourself. But hark, what noise?
[Knocking within.
Heaven give your spirits comfort!  By and by:[Exit CLAUDIO.
I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve,
For the most gentle Claudio.- Welcome, Father.
Enter DUKE.
Duke. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the
night
Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late?
Prov.  None, since the curfew rung.
Duke.                               Not Isabel?
Prov. No.
Duke.       They will, then, ere't be long.
Prov. What comfort is for Claudio?
Duke.                     There's some in hope.




76        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
Prov.  It is a bitter Deputy.
Duke.  Not so, not so: his life is parallel'd
Even with the stroke and line of his great justice.
He doth with holy abstinence subdue
That in himself which he spurs on his power
To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that
Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;
[Knocking within.
But this being so, he's just.- Now are they come. -
[Exit Provost.
This is a gentle Provost: seldom, when
The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.   [Knocking.
How now! What noise? That spirit's possess'd with
haste,
That wounds th' unlisting postern with these strokes.
Enter Provost.
Prov.  [Speaking to one at the door.]  There he
must stay, until the officer
Arise to let him in: he is call'd up.
Duke.  Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
But he must die to-morrow?
Prov.                       None, sir, none.
Duke.  As near the dawning, Provost, as it is,
You shall hear more ere morning.
Prov.                             Happely,
You something know; yet, I believe, there comes
No countermand: no such example have we.
Besides, upon the very siege of justice,
Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
Profess'd the contrary.
Enter a Messenger.
This is his lordship's man.
Duke.  And here comes Claudio's pardon.




sc. II.   MEASURE  FOR MEASURE.                    77
Messenger.  My lord hath sent you this note; and
by me this further charge, that you swerve not from
the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or
other circumstance.  Good morrow; for, as I take it,
it is almost day.
Prov.  I shall obey him.         [Exit Messenger.
Duke.  This is his pardon; purchas'd by such sin,
[Aside.
For which the pardoner himself is in:
Hence hath offence his quick celerity,
When it is borne in high authority.
When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended,
That for the fault's love is th' offender friended.
Now, sir, what news?
Prov.  I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking
me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath
not used it before.
Duke.  Pray you, let's hear.
Prov.  [Reads.]  " Whatsoever you may hear to
the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the
clock; and, in the afternoon, Barnardine.  For my
better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me
by five. Let this be duly perform'd; with a thought,
that more depends on it than we must yet deliver.  Thus
fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your
peril." -What say you to this, sir?
Duke.  What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in th' afternoon?
Prov.  A Bohemian born; but here nurs'd up and
bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.
Duke.  How came it that the absent Duke had
not either deliver'd him to his liberty, or executed
him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so.
Prov.  His friends still wrought reprieves for him:




78        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT Iv.
and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of
Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof:
Duke.  It is now apparent?
Prov.  Most manifest, and not denied by himself.
Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison?
How seems he to be touch'd?
Prov.  A  man  that apprehends death no  more
dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come:
insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.
Duke.  He wants advice.
Prov.  He will hear none. He hath evermore had
the liberty of the prison: give him leave to escape
hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if
not many days entirely drunk.  We have very oft
awak'd him, as if to carry him  to execution, and
show'd him  a seeming warrant for it: it hath not
moved him at all.
Duke. More of him  anon.  There is written in
your brow, Provost, honesty and constancy: if I read
it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but in
the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself in hazard.  Claudio, whom  here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo,
who hath sentenced him.  To make you understand
this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite, for the which you are to do me both a present
and a dangerous courtesy.
Prov.  Pray, sir, in what?
Duke.  In the delaying death.
Prov.  Alack! how may I do it, having the hour
limited, and an express command, under penalty, to
deliver his head in the view of Angelo? 1 may make
my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest.
Duke.  By the vow of mine order, I warrant you:




sc. II.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                79
if my instructions may be your guide, let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne
to Angelo.
Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.
Duke. 0! death's a great disguiser, and you may
add to it. Shave the head, and dye the beard; and
say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared
before his death: you know the course is common.
If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks
and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will
plead against it with my life.
Prov.  Pardon me, good Father: it is against my
oath.
Duke. Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the
Deputy?
Prov. To him and to his substitutes.
Duke. You will think you have made no offence,
if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing.
Prov. But what likelihood is in that?
Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet
since I see you fearful that neither my coat, integrity, nor my persuasion, can with ease attempt you,
I will go farther than I meant, to pluck all fears out
of you. Look you, sir; here is the hand and seal
of the Duke: you know the character, I doubt not,
and the signet is not strange to you.
Prov. I know them both.
Duke. The contents of this is the return of the
Duke: you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure,
where you shall find, within these two days he will
be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not,
for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor;
perchance, of the Duke's death; perchance, entering
into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of




80       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
what is [here] writ. Look, th' unfolding star calls
up the shepherd.  Put not yourself into amazement
how these things should be: all difficulties are but
easy when they are known.  Call your executioner,
and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a
present shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet
you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you.
Come away; it is almost clear dawn.       [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another Room in the Same.
Enter Clown.
Clo.  I am as well acquainted here, as I was in
our house of profession: one would think it were
Mistress Over-done's own house; for here be many of
her old customers.  First, here's young Master Rash;
he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds, of which he made
five marks, ready money: marry, then, ginger was not
much in request, for the old women were all dead.
Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of
Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of
peach-colour'd satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizzy, and young
Master Deep-vow, and  Master Copper-spur, and
Master Starve-lackey, the rapier-and-dagger-man, and
young Drop-heir that kill'd Lusty Pudding, and
Master Forthright the tilter, and brave Master Shoetie the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabb'd
Pots, and, I think, forty more, all great doers in our
trade, and are now for the Lord's sake.




SC. III.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                   81
Enter ABHORSON.
Abhor.  Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
Clo. Mr. Barnardine! you must rise and be hang'd,
Mr. Barnardine.
Abhor.  What, hoa, Barnardine!
Barnar.  [Within.] A pox o' your throats! Who
makes that noise there?  What are you?
Clo.  Your friends, sir; the hangman.  You must
be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.
Barnar.  [Within.]  Away, you rogue, away!  I
am sleepy.
Abhor.  Tell him, he must awake, and that quickly too.
Clo. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are
executed, and sleep afterwards.
Abhor.  Go in to him, and fetch him  out.
Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming: I hear his
straw rustle.
Enter BARNARDINE.
Abhor.  Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Clo.  Very ready, sir.
Barnar.  How now, Abhorson? what's the news
with you?
Abhor.  Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into
your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come.
Barnar.  You rogue, I have been drinking all
night: I am not fitted for't.
Clo.  0, the better, sir; for he that drinks all
night, and is hang'd betimes in the morning, may
sleep the sounder all the next day.
Enter DUKE.
Abhor.  Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly
father. Do we jest now, think you?
VOL. III.           F




82       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
Duke.  Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing
how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise
you, comfort you, and pray with you.
Barnar.  Friar, not I: I have been drinking hard
all night, and I will have more time to prepare me,
or they shall beat out my brains with billets. I will
not consent to die this day, that's certain.
Duke.  0, sir, you must; and therefore, I beseech
you,
Look forward on the journey you shall go.
Barnar.  I swear, I will not die to-day for any
man's persuasion.
Duke.  But hear you,Barnar.  Not a word: if you have any thing to
say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I
to-day.                                     [Exit.
Enter Provost.
Duke. Unfit to live, or die. 0, grovelling beast! -
After him, fellows: bring him to the block.
[Exeunt ABHORSON and Clown.
Prov.  Now, sir; how do you find the prisoner?
Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death;
And to transport him, in the mind he is,
Were damnable.'Prov.         Here in the prison, Father,
There died this morning of a cruel fever
One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head
Just of his colour. What if we do omit
This reprobate, till he were well inclin'd,
And satisfy the Deputy with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
Duke. O,'tis an accident that Heaven provides!
Dispatch it presently: the hour draws on
Prefix'd by Angelo. See this be done,




sc. III.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 83
And sent according to command, whiles I
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.
Prov.  This shall be done, good Father, presently.
But Barnardine must die this afternoon;
And how shall we continue Claudio,
To save me from the danger that might come,
If he were known alive?
Duke. Let this be done. - Put them in secret holds,
Both Barnardine and Claudio:
Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
To th' under generation, you shall find
Your safety manifested.
Prov.  I am your free dependant.
Duke.  Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.                        [Exit Provost.
Now will I write letters to Angelo,
(The Provost, he shall bear them) whose contents
Shall witness to him, I am near at home,
And that, by great injunctions, I am bound
To enter publicly. Him I'll desire
To meet me at the consecrated fount,
A league below the city; and from thence,
By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form,
We shall proceed with Angelo.
Enter Provost.
Prov.  Here is the head; I'll carry it myself.
Duke.  Convenient is it. Make a swift return,
For I would commune with you of such things,
That want no ear but yours.
Prov.                 I'll make all speed. [Exit.
Isab.  [Within.]  Peace, hoa, be here!
Duke. The tongue of Isabel. - She's come to know,
If yet her brother's pardon be come hither;
But I will keep her ignorant of her good,




84       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
To make her heavenly comforts of despair,
When it is least expected.
Enter ISABELLA.
Isab. Hoa! by your leave.
Duke.  Good morning to you, fair and gracious
daughter.
Isab. The better, given me by so holy a man.
Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother's pardon?
Duke. He hath releas'd him, Isabel, from the world.
His head is off, and sent to Angelo.
Isab. Nay, but it is not so.
Duke.                        It is no other.
Shew your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience.
Isab. 0, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes!
Duke. You shall not be admitted to his sight.
Isab. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel!
Injurious world! Most damned Angelo!
Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot:
Forbear it therefore; give your cause to Heaven.
Mark what I say, which you shall find
By every syllable a faithful verity.
The Duke comes home to-morrow; -nay, dry your
eyes:
One of our convent, and his confessor,
Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried
Notice to Escalus and Angelo
Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,
There to give up their power. If you can, pace your
wisdom
In that good path that I would wish it go;
And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,
Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart,
And general honour.
Isab.              I am directed by you.




AcC. III.  MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 85
Duke.  This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;'Tis that he sent me of the Duke's return:
Say, by this token, I desire his company
At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours
I'll perfect him withal; and he shall bring you
Before the Duke, and to the head of Angelo
Accuse him home, and home.  For my poor self,
I am combined by a sacred vow,
And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter.
Command these fretting waters from your eyes
With a light heart: trust not my holy order,
If I pervert your course. - Who's here?
Enter Lucio.
Lucio.                               Good even.
Friar, where is the Provost?
Duke.                       Not within, sir.
Lucio. 0, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart,
to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient.  I
am fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare
not, for my head, fill my belly: one fruitful meal would
set me to't. But they say the Duke will be here tomorrow.  By my troth, Isabel, I lov'd thy brother:
if the old fantastical Duke of dark corners had been
at home, he had lived.            [Exit ISABELLA.
Duke.  Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in
them.
Lucio.  Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well
as I do: he's a better woodman than thou tak'st
him for.
Duke.  Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare
ye well.
Lucio. Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee  I
can tell thee pretty tales of the Duke.




86        MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT Iv.
Duke.  You have told me too many of him already,
sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough.
Lucio. I was once before him for getting a wench
with child.
Duke.  Did you such a thing?
Lucio. Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it: they would else have married me to the
rotten medlar.
Duke.  Sir, your company is fairer than honest.
Rest you well.
Lucio.  By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's
end. If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little
of it. Nay, Friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A  Room  in ANGELO's House.
Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS.
Escal.  Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd
[the] other.
Ang.  In most uneven and distracted manner. His
actions show much like to madness: pray Heaven,
his wisdom be not tainted! And why meet him at
the gates, and re-deliver our authorities there?
Escal.  I guess not.
Ang.  And why should we proclaim it in an hour
before his ent'ring, that if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the
street?
Escal.  He shows his reason for that: to have a
dispatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to
stand against us.




sc. V.   MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                   87
Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim'd 
betimes i' th' morn, I'll call you at your house. Give
notice to such men of sort and suit, as are to meet
him.
Escal.  I shall, sir: fare you well.      [Exit.
Ang.  Good night. 
This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant,
And dull to all proceedings. A deflowered maid,
And by an eminent body, that enforc'd
The law against it! -But that her tender shame
Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her on;
For my authority bears up a credent bulk
That no particular scandal once can touch,
But it confounds the breather. He should have liv'd,
Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense,
Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge,
By so receiving a dishonour'd life
With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had liv'd!
Alack! when once our grace we have forgot,
Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Fields without the Town.
Enter DUKE, in his own habit, and Friar PETER.
Duke.  These letters at fit time deliver me.
The Provost knows our purpose, and our plot.
The matter being afoot, keep your instruction,
And hold you ever to our special drift,
Though sometimes you do blench from this to that,
As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius' house,
And tell him where I stay: give the like notice




88       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT IV.
To Valentius, Rowland, and to Crassus,
And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate;
But send me Flavius first.
Friar Peter.             It shall be speeded well.
[Exit Friar.
Enter VARRIUS.
Duke. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good
haste.
Come, we will walk: there's other of our friends
Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Street near the City Gate.
Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA.
Isab.  To speak so indirectly, I am loath:
I would say the truth; but to accuse him so,
That is your part; yet I'm  advis'd to do it,
He says, to veil full purpose.
Mari.                       Be rul'd by him.
Isab. Besides, he tells me, that if peradventure
He speak against me on the adverse side,
I should not think it strange; for'tis a physic,
That's bitter to sweet end.
Mari.  I would, Friar PeterIsab.                0, peace! the Friar is come.
Enter Friar PETER.
F. Peter.  Come; I have found you out a stand
most fit,
Where you may have such vantage on the Duke,
He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets
sounded:




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 89
The generous and gravest citizens
Have hent the gates, and very near upon
The Duke is ent'ring: therefore hence, away.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. —A public Place near the City Gate.
Enter, severally, DUKE, VARRIUS, and  Attendant
Lords, ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and Citizens. During their interview, enter
MARIANA, (veiled,) ISABELLA, and Friar PETER,
at a distance.
DUKE.
I/[Y very worthy cousin, fairly met: —
Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see
you.
Ang. and Escal. Happy return be to your Royal
Grace!
Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both.
We have made inquiry of you; and we hear
Such goodness of your justice, that our soul
Cannot but yield forth to you public thanks,
Forerunning more requital.
Ang.            You make my bonds still greater.
Duke.  0, your desert speaks loud; and I should
wrong it,
To lock it in the wards of covert bosom,
When it deserves with characters of brass
A forted residence'gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
F2




90       MEASURE }OR MEASURE.   ACT V.
And let the subject see, to make them know
That outward courtesies would fain proclaim
Favours that keep within. - Come, Escalus,
You must walk by us on our other hand;
And good supporters are you.
Friar Peter and ISABELLA come forward.
F. Peter.  Now  is your time.  Speak loud, and
kneel before him.
Isab.  Justice, 0 Royal Duke! Vail your regard
Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid!
O worthy Prince! dishonour not your eye
By throwing it on any other object,
Till you have heard me in my true complaint,
And given me justice.  Justice! justice! justice!
Duke. Relate your wrongs: in what? by whom?
Be brief.
Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice:
Reveal yourself to him.
Isab.                 0, worthy Duke!
You bid me seek redemption of the Devil.
Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak
Must either punish me, not being believ'd,
Or wring redress from you. Hear me, 0, hear me, here!
Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm:
She hath been a suitor to me for her brother,
Cut off by course of justice.
Isab.                      By course of justice!
Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange.
Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak.
That Angelo's forsworn; -is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murtherer; —is't not strange?
That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
An hypocrite, a virgin-violator;Is it not strange, and strange?




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                    91
Duke.                Nay, it is ten times strange.
Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Than this is all as true as it is strange:
Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To th' end of reck'ning.
Duke.               Away with her. - Poor soul!
She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense.
Isab.  O Prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st
There is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me hot, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madness: make not impossible.
That which but seems unlike.'Tis not impossible,
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,
In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain. Believe it, Royal Prince:
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.
Duke.                         By mine honesty,
If she be mad, as I believe no other,
Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,Such a dependency of thing on thing,As e'er I heard in madness.
Isab.                       0, gracious Duke!
Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reason serve
To make the truth appear, where it seems hid,
And hide the false seems true.
Duke.                    Many that are not mad,
Have, sure, more lack of reason. -What would you
say?
Isab.  I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication




92       MEASURE FOR MEASURE    ACT v.
To lose his head; condemned by Angelo.
T, in probation of a Sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother, -one Lucio
As then the messengerLucio.            That's I, an't like your Grace.
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.
Isab.                     That's he, indeed.
Duke. You were not bid to speak.
Lucio.                      No, my good lord,
Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
Duke.                    I wish you now, then:
Pray you, take note of it; and when you have
A business for yourself, pray Heaven you then
Be perfect.
Lucio. I warrant your honour.
Duke. The warrant's for yourself: take heed to it.
Isab.  This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.
Lucio. Right.
Duke. It may be right; but you are i' the wrong
To speak before your time. —Proceed.
Isab.                               I went
To this pernicious, caitiff Deputy.
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Isab.                                Pardon it:
The phrase is to the matter.
Duke. Mended again: the matter? — Proceed.
Isab. In brief, -to set the needless process by,
How I persuaded, how I pray'd and kneel'd;
How he refell'd me, and how I repli'd,
(For this was of much length,) - the vile conclusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust,




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 93
Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him.  But the next morn betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.
Duke.                      This is most likely.
Isab.  0, that it were as like as it is true!
Duke.  By Heaven, fond wretch! thou know'st not
what thou speak'st,
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour,
In hateful practice. First, his integrity
Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off.  Some one hath set you
on:
Confess the truth, and say by whose' advice
Thou cam'st here to complain.
Isab.                        And is this all?
Then, 0! you blessed ministers above,
Keep me in patience; and, with ripened time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrapp'd up
In countenance! — Heaven shield your Grace from
woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!
Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone.- An officer!To prison with her! - Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.
Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?
Isab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.
Duke. A  ghostly Father, belike. - Who knows
that Lodowick?
Lucio. My lord, I know him:'tis a meddling friar;




94       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT V.
I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord,
For certain words he spake against your Grace
In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.
Duke. Words against me?  This' a good friar, belike!
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our substitute! — Let this friar be found.
Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friarI saw them at the prison. A saucy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.
F. Peter.         Blessed be your Royal Grace!
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute,
Who is as free from touch or soil with her,
As she from one ungot.
Duke.                 We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick, that she speaks of?
F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy;
Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,
As he's reported by this gentleman;
And, on my trust, a man that never yet
Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace.
Lucio. My lord, most villainously: believe it.
F. Peter.  Well, he in time may come to clear
himself,
But at this instant he is sick, my lord,
Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,
Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither,
To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false; and what he with his oath,
And all probation, will make up full clear,
Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman:
To justify this worthy nobleman,




SC. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                  95
So vulgarly and personally accus'd,
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
Till she herself confess it.
Duke.                  Good Friar, let's hear it.
[ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and
MARIANA comes forward.
Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? —
0 Heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!Give us some seats. —Come, cousin Angelo;
In this I'll be impartial: be you judge
Of your own cause. -Is this the witness, Friar?
First let her shew her face, and after speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord, I will not shew my face
Until my husband bid me.
Duke.                    What, are you married?
Mari.  No, my lord.
Duke.                 Are you a maid?
Mari.                              No, my lord.
Duke. A widow, then?
Mari.                    Neither, my lord.
Duke.                                 Why, you
Are nothing, then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?
Lucio.  My lord, she may be a punk; for many
of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.
Duke.  Silence that fellow: I would he had some
cause
To prattle for himself.
Lucio.  Well, my lord.
Mari.  My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married;
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid:
I have known my husband, yet my husband knows
not
That ever he knew me.
Lucio.  He was drunk, then, my lord: it can be
no better.




96       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT V.
Duke. For the benefit of silence,'would thou wert
so too!
Lucio.  Well, my lord.
Duke.  This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to't, my lord.
She that accuses him of fornication,
In self-same manner doth accuse my husband;
And charges him, my lord, with such a time
When, I'll depose, I had him in mine arms
With all th' effect of love.
Ang.                Charges she more than me?
Mari. Not that I know.
Duke.             No?  you say your husband?
Mari.  Why, just, my lord; and that is Angelo,
Who thinks, he knows that he ne'er knew my body,
But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's.
Ang. This is a strange abuse.- Let's see thy
face.
Mari.  My husband bids me: now I will unmask.
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
Which once, thou swor'st, was worth the looking on:
This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract,
Was fast belock'd in thine: this is the body
That took away the match from Isabel,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house
In her imagin'd person.
Duke.                 Know you this woman?
Lucio. Carnally, she says.
Duke.                      Sirrah, no more.
Lucio. Enough, my lord.
Ang. My lord, I must confess I know this woman;
And, five years since, there was some speech of marriage
Betwixt myself and her, which was broke off,
Partly, for that her promised proportions




SC. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 97
Came short of composition; but, in chief,
For that her reputation was disvalued
In levity: since which time of five years
I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
Upon my faith and honour.
Mari.                     Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heaven, and words from
breath,
As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue,
I am affianc'd this man's wife, as strongly
As words could make up vows: and, my good lord
But Tuesday night last gone, in's garden-house,
He knew me as a wife. As this is true
Let me in safety raise me from my knees,
Or else for ever be confixed here,
A marble monument.
Ang.               I did but smile till now:
Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice;
My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive
These poor informal women are no more
But instruments of some more mightier member,
That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord,
To find this practice out.
Duke.                  Ay, with my heart;
And punish them [un]to your height of pleasure. 
Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy
oaths,
Though they would swear down each particular saint,
Were testimonies against his worth and credit,
That's sealed in approbation? - You, Lord Escalus,
Sit with my cousin: lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence'tis deriv'd. —
There is another friar that set them on;
Let him be sent for.
VOI. III.        G




98       MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT v.
F. Peter.  Would he were here, my lord; for he,
indeed,
Hath set the women on to this complaint.
Your Provost knows the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him.
Duke. Go, do it instantly.        [ Exit Provost.
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best,
In any chastisement: I, for a while,
Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have well
Determined upon these slanderers.
Escal.  My lord, we'll do it throughly. -  [Exit
DUKE.]  Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew
that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?
Lucio.  Cucuilus non facit monachum: honest in
nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke
most villainous speeches of the Duke.
Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he
come, and enforce them against him. We shall find
this friar a notable fellow.
Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.
Escal.  Call that same Isabel here once again: [To
an Attendant.]  I would speak with her. Pray you,
my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see
how I'll handle her.
Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal.  Say you?
Lucio. Marry, sir, I think if you handled her
privately she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly she'll be asham'd.
Enter Officers, with ISABELLA, the DUKE, in a
Friar's habit, and Provost.
Escal.  I will go darkly to work with her.




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                 99
Lucio.  That's the way; for women are light at
midnight.
Escal.  Come on, mistress. [To ISABELLA.] Here's
a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.
Lucio.  My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke
of; here, with the Provost.
Escal.  In very good time: — speak not you to
him, till we call upon you.
Lucio. Mum.
Escal.  Come, sir. Did you set these women on
to slander Lord Angelo? they have confess'd you did.
Duke.'Tis false.
Escal. How! know you where you are?
Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the
Devil
Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne.Where is the Duke?'tis he should hear me speak.
Escal.  The Duke's in us, and we will hear you
speak:
Look you speak justly.
Duke.       Boldly, at least.- But, 0, poor souls!
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox?
Good night to your redress.  Is the Duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too. The Duke's unjust,
Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain's mouth
Which here you come to accuse.
Lucio.  This is the rascal: this is he I spoke of.
Escal. Why, thou  unreverend and unhallow'd
friar!
Is't not enough, thou hast suborn'd these women
To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth,
And in the witness of his proper ear,
To call him villain? and then to glance from him
To th' Duke himself, to tax him with injustice?




100      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT v.
Take him hence; to the rack with him: - We'll
touze you
Joint by joint but we will know his purpose. -
What! unjust?
Duke.          Be not so hot; the Duke dare
No more stretch this finger of mine than he
Dare rack his own: his subject am I not,
Nor here provincial. My business in this State
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Where 1 have seen corruption boil and bubble
Till it o'er-run the stew: laws for all faults,
But faults so countenanc'd that the strong statutes
Stand, like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.
Escal.  Slander to the State! Away with him to
prison.
Ang. What can you vouch against him, Signior
Lucio?
Is this the man that you did tell us of?
Lucio.'Tis he, my lord. - Come hither, goodman
bald-pate: do you know me?
Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your
voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the
Duke.
Lucio.  0! did you so? And do you remember
what you said of the Duke?
Duke. Most notedly, sir.
Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported
him to be?
Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere
you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of
him; and much more, much worse.
Lucio.  0, thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck
thee by the nose, for thy speeches?




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.               101
Duke. I protest, I love the Duke as I love myself.
Ang. Hark how the villain would glose now, after
his treasonable abuses.
Escal.  Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal:
Away with him to prison.- Where is the Provost? 
Away with him to prison. Lay bolts enough upon
him; let him speak no more.- Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion.
[The Provost lays hand on the DUKE.
Duke. Stay, sir; stay a while.
Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio.
Lucio.  Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh! sir.
Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? Shew your knave's visage with a pox
to you! shew your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd
an hour. Will't not off?
[Pulls of the Friar's hood.
Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e'er mad'st
a duke.First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three.Sneak not away, sir; [To LucIO.] for the Friar and
you
Must have a word anon. - Lay hold on him.
Lucio.  This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you
down.                        [ To EscALUS.
We'll borrow place of him:- Sir, by your leave.
[The DUKE takes ANGELO's seat.
Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,
Rely upon it till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out.
Ang.                   0, my dread lord!
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,
To think I can be undiscernible,




102      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT V.
When I perceive your Grace, like power divine,
Hath look'd upon my passes: Then, good Prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession:
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.
Duke.                Come hither, Mariana.- 
Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was, my lord.
Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. 
Do you the office, Friar; which consummate,
Return him here again.- Go with him, Provost.
[Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, Friar PETER,
and Provost.
Escal.  My lord, I am  more amaz'd at his dishonour,
Than at the strangeness of it.
Duke.                       Come hither, Isabel.
Your Friar is now your Prince: as I was then
Advertising and holy to your business,
Not changing heart with habit, I am still
Attorney'd at your service.
Isab.                    0, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown sovereignty!
Duke.                  You are pardon'd, Isabel:
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself,
Labouring to save his life, and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power,
Than let him so be lost.  0, most kind maid!
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                103
That brain'd my purpose: but, peace be with him!
That life is better life, past fearing death,
Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort,
So happy is your brother.
Enter ANGELO, MARIANA, PETER, and Provost.
Isab.                    I do, my lord.
Duke.  For this new-married man, approaching
here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's sake.  But, as he adjudg'd  your
brother,
(Being criminal, in double violation
Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,)
The very mercy of the law cries out,
Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!'
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure,
Like doth quit like, and Measure, still, for Measure.
Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested,
Which, though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage.
We do condemn thee to the very block
Where Claudio  stoop'd  to  death, and with  like
haste. 
Away with him.
Mari.         0, my most gracious lord!
I hope you will not mock me with a husband.
Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband.
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
1 thought your marriage fit; else imputation,




104      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT V.
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choke your good to come. For his possessions,
Although by confiscation they are ours,
We do instate and widow you withal,
To buy you a better husband.
Mari.                       0, my dear lord!
I crave no other, nor no better man.
Duke. Never crave him: we are definitive.
Mari. Gentle my liege, —             Kneeling.
Duke.             You do but lose your labour.
Away with him  to death. -Now, sir, [to LucIo.]
to you.
Mari.  0, my good lord! - Sweet Isabel, take my
part:
Lend me your knees; and, all my life to come,
I'll lend you all my life to do you service.
Duke. Against all sense you do importune her:
Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror.
Mari.                       Isabel,
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me:
Hold up your hands: say nothing; I'll speak all.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: so may my husband.
O Isabel! will you not lend a knee?
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Isab.                       Most bounteous sir,
[Kneeling.
Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my brother liv'd. I partly think
A due sincerity govern'd his deeds
Till he did look on me: since it is so,




sc. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.                105
Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
In that he did the thing for which he di'd:
For Angelo,
His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;
And must be buried but as an intent
That perish'd by the way. Thoughts are no subjects -
Intents but merely thoughts.
Mari.                          Merely, my lord.
Duke. Your suit's unprofitable: stand up, I say. -
I have bethought me of another fault. -
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour?
Prov.               It was commanded so.
Duke.  Had you a special warrant for the deed?
Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private message.
Duke. For which I do discharge you of your
office:
Give up your keys.
Prov.             Pardon me, noble Lord:
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not,
Yet did repent me, after more advice;
For testimony whereof, one in the prison,
That should by private order else have di'd,
I have reserv'd alive.
Duke.               What's he?
Prov.                   His' name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. 
Go, fetch him hither: let me look upon him.
[Exit Provost.
Escal.  I am sorry one so learned and so wise
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
G2




106      MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT V.
Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure;
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
Enter Provost, BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO, and JULIET.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
Prov.                            This, my lord.
Duke. There was a friar told me of this man. -
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,
That apprehends no farther than this world,
And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd;
But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee, take this mercy to provide
For better times to come. -Friar, advise him:
I leave him to your hand. - What muffled fellow's
that?
Prov.  This is another prisoner that I sav'd,
That should have di'd when Claudio lost his head,
As like almost to Claudio as himself.
[Unmuffles CLAUDIO.
Duke. If he be like your brother, [to ISABELLA.]
for his sake
Is he pardon'd; and for your lovely sake
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine:
He is my brother too.-But fitter time for that.
By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe:
Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye. -
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:
Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth
yours. -
I find an apt remission in myself,
And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.You, sirrah, [to LucIO.] that knew me for a fool,
a coward,




SC. I.    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.               107
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman:
Wherein have I so deserved of you,
That you extol me thus?
Lucio.'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according
to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may;
but I had rather it would please you, I might be
whipp'd.
Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. —
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city,
If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
(As I have heard him swear himself there's one
Whom he begot with child,) let her appear,
And he shall marry her: the nuptial finished,
Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.
Lucio. I beseech your Highness, do not marry me
to a whore! Your Highness said even now I made
you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me
in making me a cuckold.
Duke. Upon mine honour thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits.    Take him to prison,
And see our pleasure herein executed.
Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to
death, whipping, and hanging.
Duke. Slandering a Prince deserves it.She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.Joy to you, Mariana! — love her, Angelo:
I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue. -
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
There's more behind that is more gratulate.
Thanks, Provost, for thy care, and secrecy;
We shall employ thee in a worthier place. —
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home




108      MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT V.
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's:
Th' offence pardons itself. - Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good;
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show
What's yet behind that's meet you all should know.
[Exeunt.




NOTES ON MEASURE FOR
MEASURE.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE I.
p. 13.  "Since I am put to know ":- Since I am constrained
to know - must needs know. So, in this play, Act III.
Sc. 2: "I am made to understand: " also,
" Though for possession put to try once more."
Paradise Lost, IV. 942.
The expression can hardly need explanation or illustration.
"-    then no more remains
But that, to your sufficiency, - as your worth is able, -
And let them work."
This is the original text, with the mere substitution of
the dash, which we now use for the comma in quasi parenthetical passages; and it plainly means,- merely putting
the words in their conversational order, and remembering
" that," as a relative, to be the emphatic word; -~ "then,
as your worth is able, no more remains to your sufficiency
but that;" &c. A paraphrase will remove any difficulty
which may yet possibly be found in the sentence: - "then,
as your worth is able [i. e., your high character rendering
you competent,] no more remains to your sufficiency [i. e.,
no more is wanting to complete your capacity for the fulfilment of your trust,] but that [i. e., that knowledge of
government of which I have just spoken;] and let them
[i. e. that knowledge and your worth] work [together]."
This passage has been thought very obscure by most editors and commentators, and by many has been pronounced
corrupt; and it must be confessed that the latter supposition would be favored by the redundancy of the second
line, were not the versification of this play so exceedingly
irregular. But had it not been for confusing changes and
comments, the supposed obscurity of the passage would
(109)




110    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT I.
doubtless have long since disappeared; and it would have
been seen that the original folio, which has hitherto been
departed from by all editors without exception, is correct
in placing no point after "remains" and a comma after
" that."  For the phrase "no more remains to your sufficiency," as meaning'no more is wanting to, or for, your
completeness,' could not have presented the slightest difficulty to any intelligent person acquainted with the English
idiom; and as to what the relative " that " refers, there can
of course be no dispute.
Rowe, with whom the present editor was inclined to concur before he had carefully examined the original, read, -
" then no more remains:
Put that to your sufficiency," &c.
He was followed by Pope, Theobald, and Warburton. But
Theobald thought that a line had been omitted, and proposed to complete the sense, thus: —
"then no more remains
But that to your sufficiency you add
Due diligency, as your worth is able," &c.
Hanmer attempted to do the same, in this manner, in his
text: -
" then no more remains
But that to your sufficiency you join
A will to serve us, as your worth," &c.
Johnson restored " But " of the original, for Rowe's " Put,"
but left his mischief-making colon; and, still thinking the
passage corrupt, "suspected" that Shakespeare wrote,
"then no more remains
But that to your sufficiencies your worth is abled," &c.
Capell did not change the words of the original, but helped
to fix the prevailing misconception, by removing the comma after "that" and placing one after "remains."  In the
Variorum Edition (Boswell's Malone, 21 vols., 1821,) the
original text is given, but in seeming despair, as it is left to
be obscured for the reader by the comments variorum, --
the decision of Malone, Steevens, and Tyrwhitt, that two
half lines are lost, being added to the conjectures already
enumerated. Mr. Singer reads, "But thereto your sufficiency;" Mr. Halliwell, on the authority of an old MS.
note, "But task to your sufficience;" and various other
futile attempts, which need not be particularly referred to,
have been made, to amend or explain what, after all, needs
no emendation, and little, if any, explanation.
p. 13.   "       the terms:" - The " terms for common justice"
were the forms and technical phrases of the law. Shakespeare may possibly have had the Termes de la Ley, written




sc. I.                    NOTES.                          111
in Henry VIII.'s time, in his mind, as Blackstone suggests;
but that is a mere book of definitions, 438 in number, in
English and that distracting hodgepodge, Law French.
p. 14.     "There is a kind of character in thy life,
That, to th' observer, doth thy history
Fully unfold."
Notes incomprehensibly from the purpose having been
written upon this simple passage by such men as Johnson,
Steevens, Mason, &c., one may be pardoned for pointing out
that the Duke merely says to Angelo,' the character of your
present life shows what your past life must have been.'
" -     as to waste
Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee."
This is the original text, which has been hitherto changed
by reading " them on thee." But the original is an ellipsis
for "they [to waste themselves] on thee."  The passage is
far from being strictly grammatical.
t"           nor Nature never lends":-  Shakespeare very
frequently uses two negatives with the force of one, in spite
of the grammatical laws which prevailed no less in his day
than in ours; as we learn, for instance, from Sidney's Sonnet upon his mistress saying " No, no," to him.
" But Grammars force with sweet success confirm,
For Grammar sayes (0, this dear Stella say!)
For Grammar sayes (to Grammar who sayes nay?)
That in one speech two Negatives affirm."
Astrophel and Stella, 63.
Was Shakespeare consciously following classical precedent?
I    " Hold therefore, Angelo, [our place and power:] "
The original has only "Hold, therefore, Angelo:" the
efforts to explain which imperfect line have been equally
various and futile. Johnson would have it mean' Continue
to be Azngelo,' an exegesis too absurd to merit further attention.  Hanmer and Steevens suppose the Duke to tell Angelo to take hold of his commission, the former introducing
a corresponding stage direction: a conjecture how ludicrous,
let every reader determine for himself by imagining the
Duke to extend a roll of parchment to Angelo, crying'Hold!'- for these plays were written to be played. Tyrwhitt thinks that the Duke addresses' Hold' to himself,
and that there should be a full point after' therefore,' and
none after' Angelo;' but it will be generally admitted that
there is no occasion for what the elder Mr. Weller would
call such a very' sudden pull up" on the Duke's part. Mr.
Halliwell would sustain Hanmer and Steevens by quoting
Falstaff's "Hold, sirrah," when he gives his letters to




112         MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT I.
Robin (Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. 3.) But Falstaff uses the word there merely as an equivalent to'stay,'
as not only appears by the context, but by the corresponding line in the quarto, where he says, " Stay, sirrah." This
intransitive sense (if we except that of' keep your appointment,' which is hardly an exception) being the only one
which the word ever has when used in the imperative mood
absolutely and alone, the words to which "Hold" refers
have, without a doubt, been lost, as we know is the case with
others in both the first and second folios. The sense which
those words conveyed is shown by the context; but by the
Duke's remark to Friar Thomas, when, in the next Scene
but one, he speaks of the very act performed in this, we may
be said to learn what they actually were, from Shakespeare
himself. The Duke says,
" I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute power and place here in Vienna."
It has been necessary in several instances for previous editors to supply lost words, which have been received into the
text; but it is submitted that there was never greater need
of such emendation than the present, and that there could
not be better warrant for the words supplied than there is
for those which appear within brackets in the present text.
p. 15.   " -     shall importune ": - In this line "importune,"
like "advertise" a little before, and "contract" shortly
after, is accented on the second syllable. It would be
tedious and superfluous to point out all similar licenses and
variations from modern custom: the reader's ear will detect, and his judgment account for or excuse, them.
SCENE II.
p. 17.   " - there went but a pair of shears between us": -
i. e., we were both of a piece.
"     ", -     as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French velvet ":
- This is a quibbling allusion to the pile of velvet and
losing the hair, or being pil'd, - one of the results of what
was in Shakespeare's day called' the French disease.'
"   I have purchas'd as many diseases," &c.:- This appears as part of Lucio's speech in the original, owing to the
neglect of the compositor, or perhaps the author or copyist,
to prefix the proper name to it. The subsequent dialogue
shows plainly both that it does not belong to Lucio and that
it does belong to the 1st Gentleman.'"   "s -~  three thousand dolours":-Thus the original,




SC. III.                  NOTES.                           113
which it has been the practice to change to'dollars,' and
thus make explanation necessary for an otherwise patent
pun.
p. 17.   "A French crown more":- Another of those allusions
so common with Shakespeare and all our old dramatists, to
the effect of that' French disease' which was yet supposed to
have been brought to Europe from the Indians of America.
p 18.   " -     the sweat":- The sweating sickness, - a pestilence which prevailed about the time when this play was
written.
p 1 C    "All houses in the suburbs":  So, "trust that little
stock of money thou hast gathered to set up a house of
Carnality ith' suburbs."  The Noble Stranger. 1640. I. 2.
" —   Thomas Tapster ":- A tapster was called' Thomas,' as an ostler was called' John.'
SCENE III.
20.  There is, strictly speaking, no new Scene here.  One
party merely goes off as the other comes on, which is plain
enough from the Clown's last speech. But as the division
is made in the original and has been preserved for nearly
two hundred and fifty years, and as the stage is left vacant
and an entirely new interest supervenes, it is better that no
change should be made.
"         the morality of imprisonment ": -  The original
has "mortality" by a palpable misprint which was corrected by Davenant, in his Law for Lovers, - an adaptation
of this play.
p. 21.   " -     the denunciation lack": - Mr. Collier's folio of
1632 substitutes'pronunciation,' which, though seeming
plausible at first, cannot be received, and shows the incompetence and the want of authority of the corrector, and,
perhaps, the lateness of his labors. Minsheu, 1617, defines
"To denounce or declare,- indicere, con-dicere, indicare.
Cooper, 1578, has "Denuntiare, - to shew or tell to another, to give knowledge, to signifie, to denounce," &c. Littleton gives the same definition.  The word seems to have
been used rather in the sense of'declaring beforehand,'
which is well suited to this place.
--   for preservation of a dower ": - The original has
propogation, which has hitherto been naturally, but too
readily, assumed to be'propagation' with the slight misprint of a letter. But it is impossible to find any appropriate signification for that word in this place. It means' increasing,' and nothing more or less - its sense of' begetting,'
VOL. III.                  H




114         MEASURE FOR MEASURE.   ACT I.
even, being entirely derivative or accidental, because increase is a concomitant of begetting. But in no way would
the secrecy of Claudio and Juliet increase her dower which
was " remaining in the coffer of her friends;" and the intention was, as Claudio says, only to keep it there, or to
preserve it for her, " until time had made them for," instead
of against the lovers. These considerations dispose of Malone's suggestion, "prorogation," and the "procuration"
proposed by Jackson, and found in Mr. Collier's folio of
1632. There were few easier misprints than propogations
for preservation in Shakespeare's time; for the e and the o
were so much alike that they could hardly be distinguished,
(see, for instance,'blooding' or' bleeding' - nobody can
tell which - in the facsimile of a part of Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632, published in his Notes and Emendations, &c.,) and
the p and the long s might be almost as easily mistaken for
each other. Further confirmation of this reading is to be
found in the word' assurance,' substituted for it by Davenant.  The object sought was, the safety of the dower till
time had worked a favorable change of opinion in those
who had it in their possession.
p. 22.   "-     receive her approbation ":- i. e., enter upon her
probationary term - her noviciate.
". -    a prone and speechless dialect":-Johnson took
"prone" in its sense of' prompt,'' quick,''ready;' but
the suggestion of Steevens, that it has its almost primitive
meaning' humble,' is far happier.,"      --    the enjoying of thy life, which I would be sorry,"
&c.:- The original has' who,' which Collier and Knight,
as well as most of the earlier editors, retain; but it is plainly a misprint for' which.' Shakespeare would not write
"' the like which " and " the life who " in the same sentence.
l'    "-        a game of tick-tack ":- This was played with
the backgammon board, and was sometimes called' tricktrack.' As to his meaning, Lucio is his own commentator.
SCENE IV.
p. 23.   "-   to headstrong steeds ":- The original has'weeds,'
which, although retained by Mr. Collier, it were a waste of
words to show must be a misprint for' steeds,' to which it
was changed by Theobald.  The change of'slip' of the
original to sleep in the next line, first made by Davenant, is
of the same nature.
"     " [Becomes] more mocked," &c.:- The word in brackets, which, or a not easily discovered equivalent, is required
by the sense, is not in the original, and was first supplied
by Davenant.




sc. v.                   NOTES.                           115
p. 24.       " And yet my nature never in thefight
To do in slander."
This is the original reading, which the preceding line
both explains and shows to be correct; but Hanmer changed
" fight " to' sight' and " in " to' it.'  " To do in slander "
is, of course,' to perform this office in the face of slander.'
SCENE V.
p. 25.   "Sir, make me not your story ": - Malone most needlessly reads, "mock me not:- your story," Davenant,
" make me not your scorn."  But this use of'me' is the
commonest of all archaisms. For instance, " - he steps me
to her trencher and steals her capon's leg," (Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act IV. Sc. 4;)   A good sherris sack hath
a two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the brain,
dries me there all the foolish, and dull and crudy vapours," &c. (Henry IV. Part 2, Act IV. Sc. 3.) A
p. 26.' That from the seedness ": - Mr. Verplanck, with much
reason, suggests that this word is a misprint for' seeding;'
but although unique in this place, it has a plain and appropriate meaning, and must not be disturbed.
"   His givings-out": - In the original the word is " giving," the s having accidentally dropped. But Mr. Collier strangely retains this word, and changes " were" to'was.'
p. 27.   "Of business": - In the folio these words are printed
at the end of the preceding line, - a palpable error, which
destroys the rhythm by two superfluous feet. The arrangement of the original is here very irregular.
ACT SECOND.
SCENE I.
p. 28.    --  the resolute acting of your blood": - The original has " our blood," - a palpable misprint.
" -     where now you censure him ":- The folio has
" which now," &c., and the editors have retained it, some adding and some understanding the' for,' which both Malone
and Steevens pronounced to be necessary to the sense at
the end of the line. But this does not avoid the difficulty.
Angelo did not censure Claudio for a point: that is not
English, and never was. He might censure him  on a
point; but there has been plainly a misprint, easily made,
of' which' for' where.'
"     " -    what knows the law ":-  The original has,




116        MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE.    ACT II.
"what knowes the Lawes;" and "To justice," belonging
to this line, to which it was restored by Steevens, appears
at the end of the previous line.
p. 29.  " For I have had:" - because I have had, or, on account of my having.  See Note on " for catching cold."
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I. Sc. 2.
" Some run from brakes of vice ":- In the original,
"brakes of Ice."  As Mr. Dyce has remarked upon another passage, the old printers were very apt to blunder on
words beginning with v; and as in this case a capital would
be used, the mistake would be the easier. Rowe made
the correction.  "Brake" has its common meaning,'a
thicket,' in contradistinction to the solitary fault spoken of
in the next line; and " answer" has the equally common
sense of'answer for.'  Steevens, however, understood
"brake " to mean an instrument of torture, a signification
w-hich it undoubtedly had; in which case " and answer
none" would mean that the torture failed to elicit any
reply. But this is from the purpose: Escalus is contrasting the impunity of some great criminals with the rigid
accountability to which petty offenders are held. Somebody proposed to read " breaks of ice "!
p. 30.  "-    a tapster, sir - parcel bawd":-part tapster,
part bawd:' parcel' being from pars.," --    a hot-house ":- a bagnio, which used generally
to be about the same thing as the sort of house actually
kept by the Clown's mistress.
p. 31.  " Come we to what was done ": - The folio has " Come
me," which has been hitherto retained and even quoted as
an instance of that use of the pronoun, noticed above in
Isabella's " make me" and Falstaff's " ascends me." But' come' was not so used, and could not be: " comes me the
Prince and Claudio," in Much Ado about Nothing, Act I.
Sc. 3, is not at all a parallel case. Escalus means,' Let
us come to what was done,''Let us get at what was
done.'
p. 32.     -  in a lower chair ": - an easy chair.
"   "- ~ the Bunch of Grapes ": - In Shakespeare's time
the larger rooms of inns were named.
p. 33.   " Justice, or Iniquity ": - referring to allegorical characters commonly found in the old Mysteries and Moralities.
p. 34.  " — no more of it, Master Froth.... Come you
hither to me, lMr. Tapster": - Upon.Mr. Collier's supposition that in Act IV. Sc. 3, Shakespeare makes the Clown
distinguish between those who had and those who had not




sc. II.                   NOTES.                          117
the rank of gentlemen, by calling the first' Mr.' and the
last' Master,' Mr. DIyce well remarks that " no such distinction was ever dreamed of by Shakespeare," and that
" Mir. and Master were put indiscriminately by transcribers
and printers."  But Mr. Collier's error was even greater
than Mr. Dyce shows it to be; for  Mr.' -pronounced
Mister - was at first a degradation of the more formal' Master,' as' Mrs.' - pronounced M3issis - was of' Mistress;' and neither was used in addressing persons'of
worship' until long after they had been applied to common
folk. At last, however, (with' Miss,' which originally
had a very derogatory meaning,) they were raised to their
present position. Therefore, although the abbreviated form
was used in writing, even as the title of persons of consideration, the distinction of the original text between
Master Froth and Mister Tapster is worthy of respect.
p. 34.  " -     your bum is the greatest thing about you ": -
This refers to the fashion of stuffing out the dress around
and behind the hips with horse hair or some like material,
which prevailed in the time of Elizabeth and the early
years of James:- a fashion too fair-ly and openly followed in our own days to need further explanation.
p. 35.   " -     after three pence a day ":- The original has " a
bay," by the most palpable and easiest of misprints. The
fact that the distance between certain beams in a house was
called' a bay' has caused that word to be retained in most,
if not all, editions. But this is one of those instances in
which the meaning of the word in the original excludes it
from the text, as inconsistent both with the context and
the character of the person who uses it. And suppose we
admit'bay':-  three pence a bay for how long? The
Clown means to say he could get houses very cheap; and
three pence a day would give us the " fairest house in Vienna" at ~4  1s. 3d., or, at the present value of money,
about one hundred and forty dollars a year.' Day,'
which had been suggested by Mr. Halliwell and by the
present editor, was found in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
p 36.   "        by your readiness in the office ":- The original
has, " by the readiness," &c.: the result of mistaking y'
for ye.
SCENE II.
p. 37.   " He hath offended but as in a dream "  - The original
has " He hath but as offended," &c., - a transposition fatal
to the sense of the line, but which has hitherto remained
uncorrected.
p. 40.  "If [but] the first":- The word in brackets is not in




118         MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT II.
the original; and, as one is necessary, Pope read, "If the
first man," and was followed by Theobald, Malone, and
others. This reading, however, has a prosaic particularity;
which is also in a measure true of that adopted by Capell
and Tyrwhitt- "If he, the first."  Angelo means to say
that if but the first had been punished, the many would
have been deterred.
p. 41.  " But ere they live":- The original has " here," which
Malone changed to' where,' and this is supported by Mr.
Dyce. Hanmer first read' ere,' which is the only word
applicable to evils " in progress to be hatched and born."
Mr. Collier retained "here"! but the corrector of his folio
of 1632 changed it to'ere.'
p. 42.   " -     fond shekels ":- The word is spelled "sickles"
in the original - a not uncommon orthography of old.
p. 43.   " Where prayers cross ": - Were it not that every
editor, from Johnson down, had found obscurity in this
expression, and made it more obscure by his explanation,
it would have been passed here without comment. Angelo,
distracted between his passion and his sense of duty, is in
that way of temptation in which his prayers for preservation from wrong-doing cross those which he utters for the
enjoyment of Isabella. If explanation be needed, Shakespeare himself puts it into Angeli's mouth in the first lines
of the next Scene but one:"When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects: Heaven hath my empty words,
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel," &c.
SCENE III.
p. 44.  "       in the flames of her own youth ": - The original has ".flaws." The error was corrected by Davenant.
p.. 45.    -     but lest you  do repent ":- The folio has
"least;" but the two words used to be pronounced, and
so were often written, alike. There are yet people in New
England - not ignorant persons - who pronounce' lest'
thus.
"     "-    we would not spare Heaven ": -- we would not
spare Heaven our sins. Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 has
"serve Heaven."
it      O0, injurious law":  The original has "love," which
is undeniably wrong, as Monck Mason pointed out, though
not clearly. Neither her love nor its consequences had any
effect upon her life; but the law in question, declaring, as we
learn in the old tale on which the play is founded, that the




sc. IV.                   NOTES.                           119
man who broke it, should lose his head, and the woman
offender should ever after be infamously noted," thus did
respite her " a life whose very comfort" was " a dying
misery."  Hanmer made the slight though important correction; but most modern editors, including Mr. Collier
and Mr. Knight, retain the senseless' love.'
SCENE IV.
p. 46.   "Whilst my invention ": - Warburton was more than
probably right in reading' intention.' But as' invention' is
used by Shakespeare in other places for'imagination,' which
gives a consistent sense, the original word must stand.
p. 46.   " Grown sear'd and tedious ":- Most copies of the first
folio have "feard;" but the Earl of Ellesmere's, as Mr.
Collier tells us, has seard, " as if the letter s had been substituted for f as the sheet was going through the press."
Warburton proposed the obvious correction, which needs
no authority to sustain it.
"     Blood, thou art blood "  - The pause after the exclamation fills out the line with a rhetorical effect, which,
with a finer sense, Pope destroyed, by reading " thou art
but blood," and Malone, by reading " thou still art blood."
t    "The general":- The general public.  So in Hamlet,
(Act II. Sc. 2,) "'twas caviare to the general."
p. 48.   "Let me be ignorant ":- The first folio omits "me,"
which is supplied in the second.
"       "( Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,)
But- in the loss of question- that you," &c.
There is a certain obscurity in this sentence, owing partly
to its interwoven parentheses, and partly to the obsolete sense in which " question" is used.  " In the loss of
question " means' in the very waste of words,'' supposing
an unsupposable case,' or, as Steevens says,'in idle supposition.'' Question' is continually used by Shakespeare
in the sense of'discussion.' In the folio the parenthesis
begins at "As" and extends to "question," inclusively,
thus making confusion. For, excluding all parenthetical
matter, the sentence is, " Admit no other way to save his
life, but that you, his sister, finding," &c.; and the "but"
must not be shut out of the direct construction. Hanmer
saw this, and so enclosed " in the loss of question " within
marks of parenthesis, by itself. But in his day our useful,
but too much and too vaguely used, dash had not taken
its present place in punctuation. All of this speech is in
a manner parenthetical, except the first and last lines. The




120         MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III.
reader will find it analyzed with particularity in Shakespeare's Scholar, where, however, a needless change of a
word in the text is proposed. Dr. Johnson proposed to
read " toss of question "!
p. 49.   "Of the all-holding law": —The folio has "all-building," by an evident typographical error, which Rowe corrected.  The generally received reading, " all-binding," is
attributed by Johnson; Steevens, Knight, and Collier to
Theobald; but it is to be found neither in his edition of
1733 nor in that of 1740, and he died in 1744. It first appears in Johnson's edition, 1765. Theobald would have
been obliged to set at naught his own admirable canon of
conjectural criticism in substituting' all-binding' for' allholding,' which is its equivalent in sense and much nearer
to the form of the word in the original.
p. 49.   " -     I've been sick for":-The folio has " That longing have been sick for," omitting the pronoun, which some
editors have merely inserted.  But "have" was a misprint, and a very easy one, for " I've."
"     " Ignomy in ransom ":- An old form of'ignominy,'
which occurs again in Troilus and Cressida, Act. V. Sc. 3.
I"                      " Else let my brother die,
If not a feodary but only he
Owe and succeed thy weakness."
This speech is found somewhat obscure, but only on account of the obsolete or peculiar sense in which the three
important words in it are used.  "Feodary" means'an
associate,''a fellow': as in Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. 2:" Senseless bauble,
Art thou a feodary for this act? " &c.
"Owe" means'to possess,' as is seen by scores of instances in these plays; and " succeed" means' to follow,'' to take after,' as in All's Well That Ends Well, Act 1.
Sc. 1:"Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father
In manners, as in shape."
Isabella's reply is therefore - in the clumsiness of paraphrase -' Otherwise let my brother die, if no companion
but he alone be possessed of and take after thy weakness.'
ACT THIRD.
SCENE I.
p. 52.   "The miserable have," &c.:- The metrical arrangement of this passage is, with a slight variation, that of the




SC. I.                    NOTES.                           121
original, which was needlessly much changed by Steevens,
who has hitherto been inconsiderately followed, except by
Knight and Singer.
p. 52.      " Servile to all the skyey influences
That dost this habitation where thou keep'st
Hourly afflict."
This is the original text, which Hanmer changed by
reading " that do."  Upon this emendation, Porson is represented in the Variorum edition as remarking, " The construction is not'the skiey influences that do,' but' a
breath thou art that dost,' &c. If' Servile thou art to all
the skiey influences' be enclosed in a parenthesis, all the
difficulty will vanish." It is not surprising that this suggestion has since been followed; for a critical decision by
Porson is to be received with as much deference as is due
to one in morals by Dr. Johnson.  But still it must be
remarked that this construction would, in the words of the
text, make the breath hourly afflict its habitation, the body,
- an absurd result of his suggestion, which, of course,
entirely escaped the attention of Porson. Plainly it is
"all the skyey influences" that afflict the body.  Yet
Hanmer's change is inadmissible; for such disagreements
of verbs with nominatives are not uncommon in Shakespeare's writings and those of his contemporaries. It is
more than probable, too, that he wrote "influence," both
here and in The Winter's Tale, Act I. Sc. 2, as the rhythm
in both instances would seem to require. For' influence'
in Shakespeare's time was a word without a plural, and
was used, especially when applied to the heavenly bodies,
(to which service it was then almost set apart, - see Cotgrave's Dictionary, also Richardson's,) in its radical sense
of' in-flowing,' and then in the singular form, even when
all those bodies are spoken of. See Milton, who frequently
uses the word, but never the plural.
"And happie Constellations on that houre
Shed their selectest influence." Par. Lost, VIII. 512.
" and taught the fixt [i. e. stars]
Their influence malignant when to shed." Ib. X. 663.
" Unmuffle ye faint stars, and thou fair Moon
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black usurping mists." Comus, 330, 335.
"       thou art Death's Fool": - The reference here, as
Steevens and Douce have heretofore pointed out, is to the
introduction of Death and a Fool in the rude old plays and
dumb shows; - the sport being made by Death's endeavH2




122         MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III.
ors to surprise the Merry Andrew and the finally unsuccessful efforts of the latter to elude them.
p. 53.   " What ho! " - In this form the exclamation constantly appears in the original, and also with sufficiently rare
exceptions in contemporary authors to show that' ho,' to
which it is universally changed by modern editors, although
it gives the sense, does not represent the sound of the word
as used between two hundred and fifty and three hundred
years ago.
"     " Bring me to hear them speak": - The folio has " Bring
them to hear me speak." Strangely enough, it was left for
Steevens to make the required transposition of the pronouns.
p. 54.   " -       most good, most good indeed ":   The second
"most good" has been generally omitted; and it is more
than possible that the repetition is due to copyist or compositor. But the emphasis is in place, and Alexandrines
are too common in this play to make the redundant foot a
sufficient reason for the omission of the words.
"   "  ~ - an everlasting leiger":- A leiger was a resident
ambassador.
I  " Though all the world's vastidity":-The folio has
" through."
p. 55.  "The priestly Angelo?" - The folio has "prenzie " both
here and three lines below, - a combination of letters, but
not a word. It was changed in the second folio to'princely,' a word singularly out of relation to the context, and
deserving of no particular attention because it is in that
edition.  Tieck conjectured that'precise' might be the
word; and in spite of its destruction of the rhythm of two
lines and of its meagre sense, it has been adopted by Knight
and Hudson.  Mr. Singer reads'primzie,' which he says is
used by Burns for'formal,'' demure,' and quotes an old
proverb,'a primzie damsel makes a laidlie dame.'  But
Shakespeare was not writing Scotch saws. Is it not plain
from Isabella's phrases in her previous speech, " this outward
sainted deputy " who " is yet a devil," that priestly guards,
i. e., priestly ornaments or facings, were the marks of the
livery with which she says Hell invests such as he? Pollok's description of a hypocrite, as
" one who stole the livery of Heaven
To serve the Devil in,"
is the very converse, the counter-proof, of Isabella's thought.
Warburton first suggested'priestly,' and it was discovered
in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
p. 56.  " -     the delighted spirit ": - The obvious sense of this




SC. II.                   NOTES.                           123
much discussed expression is the proper one. Claudio says
that the body which is sensible and warm is to become a
clod, and that the spirit which is delighted [i. e., enjoys what
John Bunyan calls the delight of life] is to suffer the torment of fire or ice, or imprisonment in the winds. Warburton first made the passage the subject of comment, and
gave an explanation somewhat like this.  Hanmer read'dilated;' Johnson proposed'delinquent,' and approved'benighted.'
p. 56.   "-  age, ache, penury "  - The first folio has "perjury," which was corrected in the second.
I     "  slip of wilderness "  - a wild slip, not from the
true stock: often so used by Shakespeare's contemporaries
and immediate successors.
p. 59.   " -    was affianced to her by oath ": - The first folio
omits " by," which was supplied in the second.
"-~  her combinate husband" - contracted husband.
So in Act IV. Sc. 3, "I am combined by a sacred vow."
p. 60.  " -    the corrupt deputyfoiled ":- The first folio has
" faled," spelled of course with a long s, - a very easy
misprint.  This word has been hitherto retained: Warburton supposed it to mean' weighed;' but Angelo had been
already weighed and found wanting, and the Duke's proposition involved no further test: others are driven to the
fish-market for a definition even less disgusting than ridiculous. The only object of the Friar-Duke, as far as Isabella,
Claudio, and.2lMariana were concerned, was to foil the corrupt Deputy.
I"  -    the Moated Grange":-A grange was originally a farm house attached to a monastery: this one was, or
had been, attached to that of St. Luke, mentioned just before by the Duke. The word finally came to be applied to
a country house less pretentious than a Hall, and more so
than a cottage.
SCENE II.
p. 61.   "The Street before the Prison."  No change of Scene is
indicated in the folio, but Elbow and the rest join the Duke;
- an arrangement plainly the result of the want of scenery on Shakespeare's stage.
"        -  brown and white bastard ":  a kind of sweet
wine, made of raisins.
"f    1-       good brother father"  - Elbow  calls the Duke
father brother (frere), and the Duke in return calls him'brother father.'




124         MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT III.
p. 61.  "-     I eat, array myself":- The folio has "away
myself," which to a London exquisite would be hardly
even a misprint.
p. 62.  " [Free] from our faults, as from faults seeming free! "
In the original folio this line is printed without the first
word, without an initial capital, and with a transposition,
thus: -
" from our faults asfaults from seeming free."
"Free," demanded both by sense and rhythm, was supplied
in the second folio; but the other equally needed emendation has not hitherto been made. The Duke speaks not of
faults, but of men. Elbow's eulogy of" the precise Angelo"
causes his better informed hearer to wish that all men were
as free from faults as some seem to be free from them.
The line evidently broke down, as the printers say, and in
attempting to set it up again, two words were transposed as
well as one omitted.'     --   extracting it clutch'd'" - The folio omits " it."
It can hardly be necessary to point out that Lucio asks the
bawd if there are any women to be had for money.
"/     What say'st thou, Trot?" - Gray suggested " What
say'st thou to't?" and Collier, " What say'st thou troth?"
But the word in the original begins with a capital; and
there surely could be no name given to a Bawd's assistant
more appropriate than Trot.
" —  she is herself in the tub ":   The allusion is to
the powdering tub in which beef was powdered, i. e. salted,
in order to preserve it from corruption.
p. 64.  "-     he is a motion ungenerative ":  The original
has, " a motion generative."  Theobald made the change,
the necessity of which will be apparent to any one who
considers Angelo's character and what Lucio has just said
and soon after says of him. Yet Steevens, Knight, and
Collier retain' generative,' which the former explains as'a
masculine puppet.'
p. 65.  "       a ducat in her clack-dish ":-Beggars used to
have a dish for the receipt of alms with a hinged cover
which they clacked to attract attention. It is almost needless to say that Lucio makes a very poor pun for the sake
of a very indecent jest.
"!   -    an inward of his": -an intimate.
"     -    with dearer love": - The folio has " deare," the
r having dropped out.
p. 66.   "    would eat mutton on Fridays ":- Lucio's charge
of the violation of a fast day involves also an innuendo,
from the application of' mutton' to prostitutes.




SC. II.                 NOTES.                        125
p. 68.  "      and it is as dangerous," &c.:-The folio has
" and as it is as dangerous," the sentence nevertheless
being closed at "undertaking" with a full point, and
the next word beginning with a capital. Mr. Collier
retained the' as' and made one sentence of the two, to
which the objection is, not only that it is not logical, as
Mr. Knight says, but that a semblance of logic is not in
place. The Duke himself calls what he says a "riddle,"
i. e., a paradox.
" You have paid the Heavens your function " -Mr.
Collier's folio of 1632 has, " You have paid the Heavens
the due of your function," the corrector having failed to
see that'to pay a function' and' to discharge a duty'
are synonymous.
p. 69.  "He, who the sword," &c.: —I more than doubt
that this and the following lines are Shakespeare's; and,
briefly, for these reasons.- They are not interwoven
with the Scene or evolved from it, but appended to it,' tacked on' it:- they are entirely superfluous, having
no dramatic purpose, and uttering no moral truth that
has not had infinitely better utterance before; and, so,
being sheer surplusage, like all surplusage, might be
stricken out with advantage: - their rhythmical expression is entirely inconsistent with their sentiment and
with the diction of the serious parts of this play; it was
not in Shakespeare to stop the Dtuke and set him off in
this octosyllabic canter upon the same road over which
he had paced before with such severe and stately dignity: - the lines are a mere succession of couplets, each
containing a perfect if not an isolated thought, which
is not Shakespeare's manner under any circumstances,
and above all in such a soliloquy as the Duke's; "non
color, non vultus."  If we will, we must believe that this
soliloquy was written by Shakespeare after those in Hamlet. Let who will believe it! —I am quite sure that
Shakespeare closed the Act with the Duke's " Peace be
with you! " and that these lines were added by some
one of the versifiers that it was common to have about
theatres, and often among the actors, in those days, and
one who wrote in the old style. The lines may have
been added with Shakespeare's consent; for gentle Will
had the kindest heart in the world; and while working,
himself, up to the highest requirements of his art, was
well content, so long as the audience was pleased and
the theatre prosperous, to do any thing to serve or gratify a friend; and the play not having been published
until twenty years after it was written, the circumstance




126    MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT Iv.
of the introduction of such a speech would more than
probably be forgotten by Heminge and Condell, even if
they thought of the subject. But as this is merely an
opinion, unsupported by any authority, no marks implying doubt of the authenticity of the speech are allowed
to appear in the text.
p. 69.          " Grace to stand, and virtue go;"
Various and futile have been the attempts to make
better English of this line without rewriting it: —the
reason being that the fault is not in the printer but the
author. Coleridge and Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 have
suggested,
" Grace to stand, virtue to go;"
" How may likeness wade in crimes."
The folio has " made."  Malone suggested the word in
the text, which removes all the " great obscurity " which
commentators have found in this passage, except that resulting from the writer's own confused notion of what
he wanted to say.  " Likeness" has been taken to mean' comeliness.' Mr. Collier's folio has " Masking practice"
in the next line: Malone read " Mocking practice;" and
various other ineffectual and supererogatory labor has
been expended upon the passage.
ACT FOURTH.
SCENE I.
p. 70.          " Take, 0! take those lips away."
This most exquisite of love songs reappears in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, first published surreptitiously at London, 1639, an authorized edition having
appeared at Oxford, 1640. In the latter play this stanza
is accompanied by the following: -
"Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears;
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee."
Both stanzas were published as Shakespeare's in the spurious
edition of his Poems, London, 1640, and, from that time to
the present, both have been attributed to him, except by some
of the critics and commentators who were in doubt to whom




sc. II.                  NOTES.                          127
to assign them. But this stanza alone is Shakespeare's;
the other, almost surely, Fletcher's. The two stanzas in
fact will not make one song, except at great violence to both
the form and spirit of the first. For that is written so that
the music shall repeat the last three syllables of each of
the last two lines, which is impossible with the other: they
can both be sung to the same music only by suppressing
the beautiful n tin rttn n th rt and touching repetition in the first: and this
was done when it was introduced in The Bloody Brother.
Besides, the stanza added in that play is palpably addressed
to a woman, while this is just as certainly and as clearly,
though not just as palpably, addressed to a man.  See
Shakespeare's Scholar, where this is shown and the subject
examined in detail. The command to the Boy, to break
off his song, is but a dramatic contrivance to produce the
effect of an intrusion upon Mariana's solitude.
p. 71.  " -    planched gate ": - a planked gate. The French
plancher with the ch hard.
"   There have I made my promise," &c.: -These lines
are prose, although printed as verse in the folio. By no
efforts have they been made to assume more than the mere
form of verse. The folio has,
"There have I made my promise, upon the
Heavy middle of the night to call upon him."
Capell and Malone make this bold transposition: -
"There have I made my promise to call on him
Upon the heavy middle of the night."
Mr. Collier gives,
" There have I made my promise upon the heavy
Middle of the night to call upon him."
No one will regret such verse; and we have many instances
of the first part of a speech in verse with the last in prose;
of which, indeed, in the third speech of the Duke above,
there is- one at hand.
p. 73   " -     our tilth's to sow "  - The folio has " tithe's," a
typographical error which was corrected by Warburton and
in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
SCENE II.
p. 76.  "      were he meal'd ":- This word is taken by Johnson to mean' sprinkled,' as meat is, with the dredging box;
Blackstone derives it from' mesler,''to mingle,' which is
better; but there is probably a misprint, though for what,
I cannot conjecture.
It    "  -  th' unlisting postern":- the unregarding postern. The folio has " vnsisting." The emendation is Monck




128         MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT IV.
Mason's; and as both s's are long in the original, it involves
only the correction of the easiest possible misprint. Rowe
gave' unresisting,' Hanmer' unresting,' Steevens suggested'unlist'ning,' or'unshifting,' Mr. Collier's folio of 1632
has' resisting,' - a very plausible correction, - and Blackstone says that'unsisting' "may mean   never at rest,'' always opening.' "
p. 76.   " Happely":- That is,'hap-ly,''by hap,' formerly
spelled'happe.' This is the word as it stands in the
original, - the old orthography and pronunciation being
retained on account of the rhythm, which requires a word
of three syllables.
" This is his lordship's man ":-In the original folio
this speech is assigned to the Duke, and the next to the
Provost; but there can be no doubt that Tyrwhitt was
right in suggesting the transposition of the prefixes; for
the Duke would not know, or, at least, seem to know, his
lordship's man; and the Provost was far from expecting
Claudio's pardon, which the Duke, on the contrary, looked
for every moment. Just before, when the knocking is first
heard, he says to himself, " Now are they come," and while
the Provost reads the letter, " This is his pardon."
p. 78.  "-     his fact ":- his deed: the radical sense of the
word.
p. 79.  " —    dye the beard": - The folio has " tie the beard."
Heath is the author of this emendation, which (' dye' and'die' having been in Shakespeare's day without any distinction of orthography) is not only justified but required
by what the Provost says in the next Scene about Ragozine,
"his beard and head just of his colour." As it was customary for men to dye the beard and women the hair, materials
could easily be procured.
p. 80.   " -       nothing of what is [here] writ ":- The folio
omits "here," which is necessary to the sense, and was
supplied by Warburton.
SCENE III.
" -   Master Rash ":- The original has the abbreviated form " Mr." throughout this speech, except in the
case of Three-pile. See Note on " Master Froth," Act II.
Sc. I.
" —       a commodity of brown paper and old ginger":Usurers in Shakespeare's day, as they do now, made their
unfortunate clients take part of their loan in rubbish of
some sort or other, which must needs be sold at a great sacrifice. Ginger was then, oddly enough, one of the commodities so used.




SC. IV.                   NOTES.                           129
p. 80.   "-   and are now for the Lord's sake ":- This is an
allusion to the practice of permitting prisoners for debt to
ask alms of visitors and passers. It obtained until recently
at the Fleet in London. Malone quotes the following pertinent passage from Nashe's Apologyfor Pierce Pennilesse,
1593: "At that time that thy joys were in the fleet-ing,
and thus crying' for the Lord's sake' out at an iron window."  Singer also gives the following from Baret's Alvearie, 1573:- "then will he turn him [the debtor] to commons into Ludgate; where for his ablative case he shall
have a dative cage, craving and crying at the gate'your
worship's charitie for the Lord's sake.' "
p. 81.   " Master Barnardine ":- The Clown who has just said'"Mlr. Barnardine, you must rise and be hanged," now,
when he coaxes, says, " Pray, Master Barnardine."  See
Note on "Master Froth," Act II. Sc. 1. This mav be accidental; but if so, it is to be classed among " Gli Inganni
Fortunati."
p. 82.  "0, grovelling beast " - The folio has "   gravell heart,"
which means nothing, although many have tried to persuade themselves and others to receive it for' 0 stony heart.'
The correction is from Mr. Collier's folio of 1632: the misprint which it supposes is an easy one, and the sense which
it gives, most appropriate.
p. 83.  " Ere twice the sun ": - The metrical arrangement here
is that of the original, which was needlessly changed by
Steevens, who was followed unthinkingly by almost every
subsequent editor. The purpose of Steevens was to accommodate the rhythm to a necessary change in the original
text, which has " To yond generation." Steevens read,
" Ere twice
The sun has made his journal greeting to
The under generation."
The error resulted from the compositor's mistaking'ye
undr' (abbreviated for' the under') for' yond;' and' th'
under' does not destroy the rhythm of the line, as' generation' was used sometimes as a word of four, sometimes
of five, syllables. The emendation has been rejected of
late years, and indeed was never properly established;
but an examination of the meaning of the passage will
show that we must read " th' under generation," i. e., the
antipodes, and not " yond generation," i. e., the world outside the prison. For, just before, we are told, with some
particularity, that it is almost day break; and the Provost's
justification, if made before the sun had twice greeted the
people of Vienna, must have been made that day; but if
made before the sun had twice greeted the antipodes, that
is, before the second ensuing night, it of course must take
VOL. III.                  I




130         MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ACT IV.
place on or before the day after; and so it did, and so
the Duke declared it would to Isabella as well as to the
Provost.
p. 83.'          well balanc'd form ":   The folio has " wealbalanc'd:" a palpable misprint for "well-balanc'd," as
Heath and Mason pointed out.
p. 85.  "   -he's a better woodman":- a hunter after deer,
and so after dears. Falstaff asks Mrs. Ford, with a similar
double meaning, "Am I a woodman? "
SCENE IV.
p. 86.  "-  hath disvouch'd [the] other": - The article,
necessary to the sense, is omitted in the folio.
p. 87.  "Yet reason dares her on," &c.:- That is, of course.' Reason is on my side, and dares her to denounce me; for
should she do so, my mere reputation and authority would
at once confound her.' The folio has "Yet reason dares
her no," by the most obvious and easy of typographical errors, which yet has hitherto remained uncorrected, while
vain efforts have been made to extract sense from the passage. Theobald dropped'no:' Steevens changed it to' not': Malone read " Yet reason dares her? - no."'"   s  ~  bears up a credent bulk": - This needs no explanation. It is the correction of an easy typographical
error in the folio, -" bears of a credent bulk," - which
has hitherto been endured, or cured by reading " bears off
a credent bulk" or "here's of a credent bulk," or by boldly dropping the particle altogether. Angelo's thought is
plainly, that his position and reputation will sustain his
denial of any scandalous story.
SCENE V.
p. 87.   Dr. Johnson thought, not without some appearance of
reason, that this Act should end with Scene IV., " for here
is properly a cessation of action, and a night intervenes,
and the place is changed, between the passages of this Scene
(IV.) and those of the next. The next Act, beginning
with the following Scene, (V.,) proceeds without any interruption of time or place." But Shakespeare cared comparatively little for such considerations. By the original
division of the Acts, which has been preserved, with Act V.
begins a grand and entirely new dramatic interest - that attaching to the exposure of Angelo. Up to the conclusion of
the next and last Scene of the present Act (IV.) we see the
toils of the Friar-Duke closing round his victim: after that
there is no further plotting, and no disguise, except the
momentary one necessary to the complete working out of




SC. I.                    NOTES.                           131
former designs.  A clock and a good memory will preserve
the unities of time and place, or detect their violation; but
for the preservation of the far more important unity of
dramatic interest, it is better to trust to Shakespeare.
SCENE VI.
p. 89.   "Have hent ":  taken possession of: from the A. S.'hentan,'  to seize.'
ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.
p. 89.   "Enter, severally ": - The folio directs, " Enter at several doors," all entrances being made from doors on Shakespeare's stage, from want of scenery. In the folio, too,
Friar Peter and Isabella are not directed to enter until just
as the former says " Now is your time; " but though the
play-wright was obliged thus to conform to the limited
space on which his characters appeared, we know, from the
foregoing Scene, that the poet had in his mind's eye the
arrangement indicated in this stage direction.
"         --   yieldforth to you public thanks":- The folio has
" yield you forth to " -an evident transposition.  The
Duke yielded Angelo forth to no public thanks; but he
gave him his own thanks publicly.  See the first two lines
of his next speech.
p. 91.   "-     characts":- characters, outward seeming.
t    "IAs e'er I heard":-'As' for'that': the construction being, -' Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense
that e'er I heard in madness' - the intervening line being
interjectional.
"       a'   for inequality "  - for apparent inconsistency; as
we say that one part of a story does not square with another.
t"   "*<-  the false seems true ": -' Which' is understood;
but some suppose that "seems true " is a compound word
for vraisemblable,' true-seeming.'
p. 92.   "How he refell'd me ": - refuted me.
p. 93.   "0, that it were as like, as it is true ": - That is,' as
likely to be believed.' The Duke, throwing doubt upon
her assertion, says, ironically, " This is most likely [to be
true]; " and she, knowing it to be virtually true, and wishing it to be so received, replies, " 0, that it were as like,
[to be believed] as it is true!" Of course, whether it were
all actually true or not, she could not wish that it were at all' likely to be true.'




132    MEASURE FOR MEASURE.  ACT V.
p. 93.   "       with ripened time ": - The last syllable of this
word is not contracted in the folio: it was pronounced ripened, not ri-pen-ed: hitherto the editors have contracted it.
p. 94.   " This' a good friar ":- The apostrophe marks the
elision of' is;' as in " What' fool" for' what a fool.'
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I. Sc. 2.
p. 95.   " -     let her shew her face ":- The folio has " your,"
an easy misprint for' her,' when h had a bow below the
line like y, and o could scarcely be distinguished from e.
p. 97.   " -        informal women " -  ill regulated, distracted
women. See Note on " make of him a formal man again."
Comedy of Errors, Act V. Sc. 1.
" And punish them [un]to your height of pleasure."
The folio has " to " - an error, as the rhythm shows.
p. 98.   " Cucullus non facit monachum ": - The cowl does not
make the monk.
p. 100.  "Nor here provincial":-of this province, and subject to its civil or ecclesiastical authorities.
"     " -     forfeits in a barber's shop": - It is only of late
in America, that the fashion of lounging in a barber's
shop has entirely gone out; and Dr. Kenrick states, in
his Suffolk Words, that, in 1750, he saw a metrical list of
forfeits in a barber's shop to be enforced against those who
meddled with the razors or surgical instruments; for barbers were surgeons of old. We may well believe that these
forfeits were " as much in mock as mark."
p. 101.  " Hark how the villain would glose now":-how he
would smooth over his treasonable abuses. The folio has
", close," an evident misprint, as the Duke shows no intention to close the discussion,- yet hitherto retained.
"'    "-   giglots": - loose girls.
-    that e'er mad'st a duke ":- So the original;
generally changed to' made.'
p. 102.  "-     rash remonstrance ":- used in its radical sense
of  showing again.' It is only of comparatively late years
that this word has come to mean'expostulation.'
p. 104.  "       by confiscation":- The folio has " confutation,"
which was corrected in the second folio - a change that
hardly merits notice.
p. 107.  " If any woman's wrong'd":-  In the folio, " any
woman."
p. 108.  " -     that's meet you all should know::- The origi.
nal has "that meet."




THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
(i3.)




The Comedie of Errors occupies sixteen pages in the folio of
1623, viz., from p. 85 to p. 100 inclusive, in the division of
Comedies. It is there divided into Acts, but not into Scenes.
At the head of the first, third, fourth, and fifth Acts, however,
" Scena Prima" appears.  There is no list of Dramatis Personae, which was first supplied by Rowe.
(134)




THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.
INTRODUCTION.
TIERE  is no doubt that The Comedy of Errors is an imitation of the Mencechmi of Plautus; but the question whether
the imitation was direct or indirect has not been decided.  We
know, from the Record of the Revels at Court, that a play called
The History of Error was in existence in the year 1576-7; for
among the entries for that year is the following: -
The Historie of Error, shewn at Hampton Court on New
yeres daie at night, enacted by the children of Pawles."
Malone, who first directed attention to this memorandum, also
pointed out a passage in the Gesta Grayorum -  a contemporary
record of the festivities at Gray's Inn, published in 1688 - which
shows that " a Comedy of Errors, like to Plautus his Menechmus, was played by the players" during the Christmas Revels
at that venerable Inn of Court in December, 1594.  In 1595
there was published in London a free translation of the Menechmi.*  Finally, Meres gives us evidence that Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors was written at least as early as 1597.  These are
all the facts on record from which we can determine the origin
of this comedy or the date of its production; but as the old
History of Error is entirely lost, and as we do not know whether
the play at Gray's Inn was Shakespeare's Comedy or the older
History, we are unable to decide from these data whether Shake* " A pleasant and fine Conceited Comoedie, taken out of the most excellent
wittie Poet Plautus: Chosen purposely from out the rest, as least harmefull,
and yet most delightfull. Written in English by W. W. - London, Printed by
Tho. Creede, and are to be sold by William Barley, at his shop in Gratious
streete. 1595." 4to.
This W. W. is supposed by Anthony Wood, in his Athence Oxonienses, to have
been William Warner, the author of Albion's England, a sort of chronicle in
verse, first published at London in 1586. 4to.
(135)




136            COMEDY OF ERRORS.
speare's play existed il any form before the publication of the
translation from Plautus.
Of internal evidence upon this subject there is very little, and
that not of much weight. Dromio's reply to Antipholus, Act III.
Sc. 2, that he found France in the forehead of the globe-like dame
who asserted uxorial rights over him, " armed and re —erted,*
making war against her heir," is, however, so plainly a punning allusion to the war of the League, which was closed by
Henry IV.'s apostasy in 1593, that there can hardly be a doubt
as to the existence of the passage before that date. For although
it is true that' heire' might be a misprint or loose spelling of' haire,' to which it is changed in the folio of 1632, the allusion yet exists in as full force, in the otherwise senseless words
" armed and reverted, making war," and the pun remains with
a different spelling. The likeness between the phraseology of
the translated Mencechmi and The Comedy of Errors is very
slight indeed; and all other similarity is due, of course, to the
original.  Adriana says, Act II. Sc. 1, " poor I am  but his
stale," and the Wife in the translated Menachmi says, " He
makes me a stale and a laughing stock": W. W. translates,
-        nunc ibo in tabernam: vasa et argentum tibi
Referam,"
Ile go strait to the Inne, and deliver up my accounts, and all
your stuffe," and Antipholus of Syracuse says, " Come to the
Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence;" and although' stuff'
and' stale' were generally used in Shakespeare's time as they
are here used, in these speeches they have somewhat the air of
reminiscences.
That the author of The Comedy of Errors knew the story of
the Menechmi, needs, of course, no setting forth; but that he
had studied it closely, either in the original or in a translation,
is evident from similarity in minor points between the plays. In
both the resident brother is married; in both the wife is shrewish; in both she has brought her husband a large dowry; in both
the Courtesan appears; and in both the resident brother seeks
refuge at her table from the jealous clamors of his wife; the
incident of the chain is common to both, and is used by each
dramatist, though with a difference, for the same purpose; in
* A misprint, left uncorrected here, will be noticed hereafter.




INTRODUCTION.                          137
both the wandering brother gives his purse to his servant to be
carried to the inn; in both the wife, on account of the behavior of his double, finally supposes her husband to be lunatic,
and in the one case sends and in the other brings a leech to take
him in charge, who in both encounters the husband himself. It
is also noteworthy that in the first stage directions of the original, one Antipholus is called " Errotis " and the other " Sereptus,"
— misprints, doubtless, for' Erraticus' and' Surreptus,' -meaning' wandering' and' stolen.' Now, in The Comedy of Errors
the resident brother is not stolen, but in the Mencchmi he is, and
is designated as Surreptus; and the traveller, who is not called
Erraticus in Plautus' Dramatis Personee, but Sosicles, is, however,
called' the Traveller' in W. W.'s translation. This translation, although not published until 1595, had then been made
and handed about for some time, as we know by the address of
"' The Printer to the Readers " which introduces it. In this he
says, or, without doubt, the author for him, - " The writer
hereof (loving Readers) having diverse of this Poettes Comedies
Englished, for the use and delight of his private friends, who in
Plautus owne words are not able to understand them: I have
prevailed so far with him as to let this one go farther abroad," &c.
In the absence of evidence which amounts to proof, we may
yet form  an opinion; and my own, based upon a consideration
of the facts just stated and of the play itself, is, that Shakespeare, at the very beginning of his dramatic career, wishing to
supply his theatre with an amusing comedy to take the place of
a rude imitation of the Mencechmi, already somewhat known to
the public, read that play in the original as thoroughly as his
", small Latin" (small in the estimation of so complete a scholar
as Jonson) enabled him to read it; that he also read W. W.'s
translation in manuscript; and that then, using for the more
comic parts the doggerel verse in which the elder play was written, for the passages of sentiment the alternate rhymes of which
Venus and Adonis and Romeo and Juliet show his early preference
and his mastery, and for the serious Scenes the blank verse which
he was the first to bring to perfection, and which appears in
great though not yet matured beauty in The Two Gentlemen of
Verona, he wrote The Comedy of Errors: that, in the extravagant Scenes, he deliberately imitated, populo ut placeret, the
versification of the old play, and perhaps adopted some of it
with improvement; that this was done about 1589-90; and that
1 2




138            COMEDY OF ERRORS.
the play thus produced may have been somewhat rewritten by
him in its first and last Scenes in the long period during which
it remained unprinted in the possession of the theatre.
It is to be observed that although the poetical value of The
Two Gentlemen of Verona is much greater than that of The
Comedy of Errors, the dramatic arrangement of the latter is
much more skilful, and indicates longer theatrical experience
on the part of the author.
The difference between the comedy of the Latin and that of
the English dramatist is very wide, both in the way of addition
and alteration; the most important addition being that of another pair of twins as attendants upon those who figure in the
Latin play. The introduction of these tends greatly to complicate the confusion out of which the fun of this extravaganza
arises. Whether the thought was original with Shakespeare or
was takei from the old play, we have no means of ascertaining;
but in the use made of the bondsmen we recognize the younger
hand of him in whose maturer works his perception of the ridiculous and enjoyment of the broadest humor are no less apparent than his delight in all that is grand and beautiful in Man
and Nature. Yet the very passages in which the Dromios are
most prominent are those which seem most unmistakably the
production of an inferior and more ancient writer. How difficult is it to believe that the rhyming part of Act III. Sc. 1, for
instance, was written, at any time or for any purpose, by the
author of the fine blank verse which precedes and follows it!
It is more than possible that the two slaves were added in the
older play to doubly supply the clown or buffoon, without which,
on our ancient stage, a comedy was not a comedy. In the substitution of Luciana, the sister of Adriana, for the Father of the
Latin comedy, we very surely have an indication of Shakespeare's
dramatic' skill; the expostulations which he puts into the mouth
of the young woman are far more convincing and to the purpose
than the reproaches which Plautus makes the old man deal out
to both husband and wife. The introduction of Luciana also
enabled the author to establish, in the relations between her
and Antipholus of Syracuse, a new interest entirely wanting to
the Latin play.  The Parasite, who figures so largely in the
Menaechmi, as in all Latin comedies, is omitted, as a character
altogether foreign to the taste of an English audience, and needless to the production of that confusion which is the only motive




INTRODUCTION.                          13'
of Shakespeare's play; in which, too, the action is more intricate than in its model, the movement more rapid, and the spirit
much more lively, light, and humorous.
Concerning the place and the period of the action of this play,
it seems that Shakespeare did not trouble himself to form a very
accurate idea.  The Ephesus of The Comedy of Errors is much
like the Bohemia of The Winter's Tale —  a remote, unknown
place, yet with a familiar and imposing name, and therefore
well suited to the purposes of one who as poet and dramatist
cared much for men and little for things, and to whose perception the accidental was entirely eclipsed by the essential. Anachronisms are scattered through it with a profusion which could
only be the result of entire indifference - in fact, of an absolute
want of thought upon the subject.  The existence of an abbey
in Ephesus, however, is not to be considered as among them.
For Christianity was established there about the middle of the
fourth century; and Ephesus remained a Greek and Christian
city till about A. D. 1313. The action of the play may, perhaps, be referred to about the middle of this period.
The choice of costume is in a great measure arbitrary. The
twins must of course be attired in pairs alike, else they could
not be mistaken for each other; and the improbability, extending to impossibility, that one master and servant should arrive
in Ephesus dressed just as their doubles were on the day of their
arrival, is a postulate permitted in the construction of a farce
like this.  Any ancient Natolian costume is admissible for the
principal characters; and dramatic propriety will not be violated by giving to Balthasar and the friend of Antipholus of
Syracuse the dress of Italian merchants, and to Pinch that of
an English schoolmaster, or leech, or conjurer of Shakespeare's
day.  But an entirely conventional costume may be adopted;
the only object being to remove the action out of the present
and the actual.
The text, the only source of which is the first folio, exists
there in a state approaching purity, the errors being altogether
due to the accidents of the printing office, and, generally, easy
of correction. Some were, however, left to be for the first time
rectified in this edition.




DRAMATIS PERSONSE.
SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus.
~EGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse.
ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus,  Twin Brothers, Sons to
ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse,   tEgeon and ~Emilia.
DROMIO of Ephesus,  Twin Brothers, Attendants on
DROMIO of Syracuse,  the two Antipholuses.
BALTHAZAR, a Merchant.
ANGELO, a Goldsmith.
A Merchant, Friend to Antipholus of Syracuse.
A Merchant, Creditor of Angelo.
PINCH, a Schoolmaster.
LEMILIA, Wife to JEgeon.
ADRIANA, Wife to Antipholus of Ephesus.
LUCIANA, her Sister.
LUCE, Servant to Adriana.
A Courtezan.
Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants.
SCENE: Ephesus.
(140)




THE COMEDY OF ERRORS
ACT I.
SCENE I.  A Hall in the DUKE'S Palace.
Enter DUKE of Ephesus, A2EEON, Gaoler, Officers,
and other Attendants.
E GEON.
PROCEED, Solinus, to procure my fall.
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more.
I am not partial, to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord, which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, —
Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives,
Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods, -
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
For, since the mortal and intestine jars'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusians and ourselves,
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns:
Nay, more, if any, born at Ephesus,
(141)




142         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.             ACT I
Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs,
Again, if any Syracusian born
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies;
His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose,
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.
~ge. Yet this my comfort; when your words are,done,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke. Well, Syracusian; say, in brief, the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home,
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
ZEge. A heavier task could not have been impos'd,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable;
Yet, that the world may witness, that my end
Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence,
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born, and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me [too], had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy: our wealth increas'd,
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, till my factor's death,
And the great care of goods at random left,
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting under
The pleasing punishment that women bear)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.
There had she not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons;




sc. 1.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                143
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A meaner woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike.
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling, I agreed. Alas, too soon we came aboard!
A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;
Which, though myself would gladly have embrac'd,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was, —for other means was none. —
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us.
My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms:
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast,
And, floating straight, obedient to the stream,




144        COMEDY  OF ERRORS.             ACT 1.
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us,
And by the benefit of his wish'd light
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships, from far making amain to us;
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came, - 0, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by that went before.
Duke. Nay, forward, old man: do not break off so;
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
lEge.  0, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!
For, ere the ships could meet, by twice five leagues,
We were encounter'd by a mighty rock,
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst;
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length another ship had seiz'd on us;
And knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave healthful welcome to their shipwrack'd guests,
And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail;
And therefore homeward did they bend their course. -
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss,
That by misfortunes was my life prolonged,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,




sc. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                145
Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother, and importun'd me,
That his attendant (so his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name)
Might bear him company in the quest of him;
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece,
Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia;
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus,
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless 2Egeon, whom  the Fates have
mark'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall'd
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can:
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy [life] by beneficial help.
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die.Gaoler, take him to thy custody.
VOL. III.          J




146        COMEDY OF ERRORS.              ACT 1.
Gaoler. I will, my lord.
ZEge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth AEgeon wend,
But to procrastinate his liveless end.  [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A public Place.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS  and DROMIO of Syracuse, and
a Merchant.
Merchant. Therefore, give out you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusian merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
Antipholus of Syracuse. Go, bear it to the Centaur, where we host,
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time:
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return and sleep within mine inn,
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.
Dromio of Syracuse. Many a man would take you
at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a mean.      [Exit.
Ant. S. A trusty villain, sir; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.




SC. II.    COMEDY OF ERRORS.                  147
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to my inn, and dine with me?
Mer. I am invited, sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit;
I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock,
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,
And afterwards consort you till bed-time:
My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. S. Farewell till then. I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down to view the city.
Mer.  Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I, to the world, am like a drop of water
That, in the ocean, seeks another drop;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanack of my true date.What now? -How chance thou art return'd so soon?
Dromio of Ephesus. Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too late.
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;




148         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               ACT I.
But we, that know what'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
Ant. S.  Stop in your wind, sir.  Tell me this, I
pray;
Where have you left the money that I gave you?
Dro. E.  0! sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday
last
To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper.
The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not.
Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now.
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody?
Dro. E.  I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at dinner.
I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed,
For she will score your fault upon my pate.
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
Ant. S.  Come, Dromio, come; these jests are out
of season:
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this.
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee?
Dro. E. To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to
me.
Ant. S.  Come on, sir knave; have done your foolishness,
And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E.  My charge was but to fetch you from the
mart
Home to your hoase, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner.
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S.  Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my m6ney,
Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours,




so. II.     COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                  149
That stands on tricks when I am undispos'd.
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?
Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate;
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both.
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave,
hast thou?
Dro. E.  Your worship's wife, my mistress at the
Phoenix;
She that doth fast till you come home to dinner,
And prays that you will hie you home to dinner.
Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my
face,
Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
[Strikes him.
Dro. E. What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold
your hands.
Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other
The villain is o'er-raught of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches that deform the body,
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin:
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur to go seek this slave:
I greatly fear my money is not safe.          [Exit.




150          COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               ACT II.
ACT II.
SCENE I. - Court in the House of ANTIPHOLUS.
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.
ADRIANA.
N EITHER my husband, nor the slave return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seek his master?
Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.
Luciana.  Perhaps, some merchant hath  invited
him,
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner.
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret.
A man is master of his liberty:
Time is their master; and, when they see time,
They'll go, or come: if so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more?
Luc.  Because their business still lies out o' door.
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it [ill].
Luc.! know he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so.
Luc.  Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe
There's nothing, situate under Heaven's eye,
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subjects, and at their controls.
Men, more divine, the masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then, let your will attend on their accords.




sc. I.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                 151
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed.
Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some
sway.
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she
pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;
But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain;
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me:
But if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. —
Here comes your man: now is your husband nigh.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.
Adr.  Say, is your tardy master now at hand?
Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and
that my two ears can witness.
Adr.  Say, didst thou speak with him?  Know'st
thou his mind?
Dro. E. Ay, ay; he told his mind upon mine
ear.
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou could'st not feel
his meaning?
Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too
well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully, that
I could scarce understand them.




152         COMEDY OF ERRORS.             ACT II.
Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home?
It seems, he hath great care to please his wife.
Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is hornmad.
Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain!
Dro. E.               I mean not cuckold-mad;
But, sure, he is stark mad.
When I desir'd him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold:'Tis dinner-time, quoth I; my gold, quoth he:
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; my gold, quoth he:
Will you come [home], quoth I? my gold, quoth he:
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd; my gold, quoth he:
My mistress, sir, quoth I; hang up thy mistress;
I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who?
Dro. E. Quoth my master:
I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress.
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him
home.
Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home?
For God's sake, send some other messenger.
Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other
beating.
Between you, I shall have a holy head.
Adr. Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master
home.
Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a foot-ball you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither:




sc. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                153
If I last in this service, you must case me in
leather.                             [Exit.
Luc. Fie, how impatience low'reth in your face!
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it:
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait?
That's not my fault; he's master of my state.
What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair;
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home: poor I am but his stale.
Luc. Self-harming jealousy! —fie! beat it hence.
Adr.  Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage other where,
Or else, what lets it but he would be here?
Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain:
Would that alone, [alone] he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed!
I see, the jewel best enamelled
Will lose his beauty: yet though gold'bides still,
That others touch, an often touching will
Wear gold; and no man that hath a name,
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.
Luc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
[Exeunt.
J2




154         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.             ACT II.
SCENE II.
A public Place.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart.  See, here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
How now, sir? is your merry humour alter'd?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur?  You receiv'd no gold?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner?
My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me?
Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I such a
word?
Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an hour
since.
Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me
hence,
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt,
And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd.
Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein.
What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me.
Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the
teeth?
Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that.
[Beats him.




SC. II.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                 155
Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake! now your jest
is earnest:
Upon what bargain do you give it me?
Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your sauciness will jest upon my love,
And make a common of my serious hours.
When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport,
But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
If you will jest with me, know my aspect,
And fashion your demeanour to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.
Dro. S. Sconce, call you it? so you would leave
battering, I had rather have it a head: An you use
these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head,
and insconce it too; or else I shall seek my wit in
my shoulders. But, I pray, sir, why am I beaten?
Ant. S. Dost thou not know?
Dro. S. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten.
Ant. S. Shall I tell you why?
Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore; for, they say,
every why hath a wherefore.
Ant. S. Why, first, —for flouting me; and then,
wherefore,- for urging it the second time to me.
Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out
of season,
When in the why and the wherefore is neither
rhyme nor reason?Well, sir, I thank you.
Ant. S. Thank me, sir? for what?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, for this something that you
gave me for nothing.
Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you
nothing for something.  But say, sir, is it dinnertime?




156         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               ACT II.
Dro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that I
have.
Ant. S.  In good time, sir; what's that?
Dro. S. Basting.
Ant. S.  Well, sir, then'twill be dry.
Dro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. S.  Your reason?
Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase
me another dry basting.
Ant. S.  Well, sir, learn to jest in good time:
there's a time for all things.
Dro. S. I durst have denied that before you were
so choleric.
Ant. S.  By what rule, sir?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain
bald pate of Father Time himself.
Ant. S. Let's hear it.
Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his
hair that grows bald by nature.
Ant. S.  May he not do it by fine and recovery?
Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig, and recover the lost hair of another man.
Ant. S.  Why is Time such a niggard of hair,
being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?
Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows
on beasts: and what he hath scanted men in hair,
he hath given them in wit.
Ant. S.  Why, but there's many a man hath more
hair than wit.
Dro. S. Not a man of those but he hath the wit
to lose his hair.
Ant. S.  Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain
dealers, without wit.
Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet
he loseth it in a kind of jollity.




SC. II.     COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 157
Ant. S. For what reason?
Dro. S. For two; and sound ones too.
Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you.
Dro. S. Sure ones then.
Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falling.
Dro. S. Certain ones then.
Ant. S. Name them.
Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends
in trimming; the other, that at dinner they should not
drop in his porridge.
Ant. S. You would all this time have prov'd there
is no time for all things.
Dro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, is no time
to recover hair lost by nature.
Ant. S.  But your reason was not substantial why
there is no time to recover.
Dro. S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald,
and therefore, to the world's end, will have bald followers.
Ant. S. I knew'twould be a bald conclusion.
But soft! who wafts us yonder?
Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA.
Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown:
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects:
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou, unurg'd, would'st vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to
thee.
How comes it now, my husband, 0! how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thyself?




158         COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT II.
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me;
For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Should'st thou but hear I were licentious,
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!
Would'st thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring,
And break it with a deep divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore, see thou do it.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:
For, if we two be-one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep, then, fair league and truce with thy true
bed;
I live distain'd, thou one dishonoured.
Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you
not.
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town as to your talk;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all, one word to understand.
Luc. Fie, brother: how the world is chang'd with
you!




SC. II.     COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                159
When were you wont to use my sister thus?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio?
Dro. S. By me?
Adr.  By thee; and this thou didst return from
him, 
That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows,
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.
Ant. S. Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman?
What is the course and drift of your compact?
Dro. S. I, sir?  I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest; for even her very
words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our
names,
Unless it be by inspiration?
Adr.  How ill agrees it with your gravity
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood!
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine;
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate:
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks; she moves me for her
theme!
What, was I married to her in my dream,




160          COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               ACT II.
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the forced fallacy.
Luc.  Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
Dro. S.  0, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land: 0, spite of spites!
We talk with goblins, owles, [elves,] and sprites.
If we obey them not, this will ensue,
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc.  Why prat'st thou to thyself, and answer'st
not?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot!
Dro. S. I am  transformed, master, am  I not?
Ant. S.  I think thou art, in mind, and so am  I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind and in my
shape.
Ant. S.  Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S.                       No, I am  an ape.
Luc.  If thou art chang'd to aught,'tis to an ass.
Dro. S.'Tis true; she rides me, and I long for
grass.'Tis so, I am  an ass; else it could never be,
But I should know her as well as she knows me.
Adr.  Come, come; no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep,
Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn.
Come, sir, to dinner.- Dromio, keep the gate.Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks.Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter.Come, sister. — Dromio, play the porter well.
Ant. S.  Am  I in Earth, in Heaven, or in Hell?




sc. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                161
Sleeping or waking? mad, or well-advis'd?
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd?
I'll say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist, at all adventures, go.
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate?
Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your
pate.
Luc.  Come, come, Antipholus; we dine too late.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. -Before the House of ANTIPHOLUS.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus,
ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR.
ANTI'IIOLUS OF EPHESUS.
G   OOD Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all;
My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours.
Say that I linger'd with you at your shop,
To see the making of her carcanet,
And that to-morrow you will bring it home;
But here's a villain that would face me down
He met me on the mart, and that I beat him,
And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold;
And that I did deny my wife and house. -
Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this?
Dro. E.  Say what you will, sir, but I know what
I know.
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to
show:
VOL. III.           K




162         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.    ACT III.
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave
were ink,
Your own hand-writing would tell you what I think.
Ant. E.  I think thou art an ass.
Dro. E.                 Marry, so it doth appear,
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.
I should kick, being kick'd; and being at that pass,
You would keep from  my heels, and beware of an
ass.
Ant. E. Y' are sad, Signior Balthazar: pray God
our cheer
May answer my good-will, and your good welcome
here.
Bal.  I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your
welcome dear.
Ant. E.  0, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or
fish,
A table-full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.
Bal.  Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl
affords.
Ant. E.  And welcome more common, for that's
nothing but words.
Bal. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
Ant. E.  Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing
guest:
But though my cates be mean, take them  in good
part;
Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.
But soft! my door is lock'd.  Go bid them let us in.
Dro. E.  Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian,
Gin'!
Dro. S. [Within.] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch!
Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the
hatch.




sc. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 163
Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for
such store,
When one is one too many?  Go, get thee from the
door.
Dro. E.  What patch is made our porter? - My
master stays in the street.
Dro. S.  Let him walk from whence he came, lest
he catch cold on's feet.
Ant. E.  Who talks within there? hoa! open the
door.
Dro. S. Right, sir: I'll tell you when, an you'll
tell me wherefore.
Ant. E.  Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not
din'd to-day.
Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not, come again
when you may.
Ant. E.  What art thou, that keep'st me out from
the house I owe?
Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir; and my
name is Dromio.
Dro. E.  0 villain! thou hast stolen both mine
office and my name:
The one ne'er got me credit, the  other mickle
blame.
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou would'st have chang'd thy face for a name, or
thy name for a face.
Luce.  [Within.]  What a coil is there, Dromio:
who are those at the gate?
Dro. E.  Let my master in, Luce.
Luce.             Faith, no; he comes too late;
And so tell your master.
Dro. E.              0 Lord! I must laugh: -
Have at you with a proverb. -- Shall I set in my
staff?




164         COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT III.
Luce. Have at you with another: that's - when?
can you tell?
Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, Luce, thou
hast answer'd him well.
Ant. E.  Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us
in, I hope?
[                                             ]
Luce. I thought to have ask'd you.
Dro. S.                       And you said, no.
Dro. E.  So; come, help! well struck; there was
blow for blow.
Ant. E.  Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce.              Can you tell for whose sake?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Luce.                Let him knock till it ache.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the
door down.
Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks
in the town?
Adr.  [Within.]  Who is that at the door, that
keeps all this noise?
Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with
unruly boys.
Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might have
come before.
Adr. Your wife, sir knave? go, get you from the
door.
Dro. E.  If you went in pain, master, this knave
would go sore.
Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome:
we would fain have either.
Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part
with neither.
Dro. E. They stand at the door, master: bid them
welcome hither.




sC. I.       COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 165
Ant. E.  There is something in the wind, that we
cannot get in.
Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin.
Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in
the cold:
It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought
and sold.
Ant. E.  Go, fetch me something: I'll break ope
the gate.
Dro. S.  Break any breaking here, and I'll break
your knave's pate.
Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir,
and words are but wind;
Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not
behind.
Dro. S. It seems, thou want'st breaking.  Out
upon thee, hind!
Dro. E. Here's too much out upon thee! I pray
thee, let me in.
Dro. S.  Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish
have no fin.
Ant. E. Well, I'll break in. Go, borrow me a crow.
Dro. E.  A  crow without feather? master, mean
you so?
For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a
feather.
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together.
Ant. E. Go, get thee gone: fetch me an iron crow.
Bal.  Have patience, sir; 0! let it not be so:
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
Th' unviolated honour of your wife.
Once this, —Your long experience of her wisdom,




166         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.    ACT III.
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown;
And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are made against you.
Be rul'd by me: depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner;
And, about evening, come yourself alone
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in,
Now, in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made of it;
And that supposed by the common rout,
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead:
For slander lives upon succession,
For ever housed, where it gets possession.
Ant. E. You have prevail'd: I will depart in quiet,
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse,
Pretty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle:
There will we dine. This woman that I mean,
My wife (but, I protest, without desert,)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal:
To her will we to dinner. -Get you home,
And fetch the chain; by this, I know,'tis made:
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine;
For there's the house. That chain will I bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife)
Upon mine hostess there.  Good sir, make haste.
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour hence.
Ant. E.  Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense.                             [Exeunt.




so. II.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                  167
SCENE II.
Court in the House of ANTIPHOLUS.
Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse.
Luc.  And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring, of love, thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness;
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth:
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness;
Let not my sister read it in your eye:
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger:
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint:
Be secret-false; what need she be acquainted?
What simple thief brags of his own attaint?'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy looks at board.
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed;
Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit, that you love us;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve,
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again:
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife.
Tis holy sport to be a little vain,
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.




168         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.    ACT III.
Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else,
I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,)
Less in your knowledge, and your grace you shew not,
Than our Earth's wonder; more than Earth divine.
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak:
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words' deceit.
Against my soul's pure truth, why labour you
To make it wander in an unknown field?
Are you a god? would you create me new?
Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe:
Far more, far more, to you do I decline.
0, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,
To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears.
Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote:
Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bride I'll take thee, and there lie;
And, in that glorious supposition, think
He gains by death, that hath such means to die:
Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!
Luc. What! are you mad, that you do reason so?
Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know.
Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will clear
your sight.
Ant. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on
night.
Luc. Why call you me love? call my sister so.




SC. II.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                  169
Ant. S. Thy sister's sister.
Luc.                        That's my sister.
Ant. S.                                       No;
It is thyself, mine own self's better part;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,
My sole Earth's-heaven, and my Heaven's claim.
Luc.  All this my sister is, or else should be.
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee.
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life:
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife.
Give me thy hand.
Luc.               0, soft, sir! hold you still:
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good-will.    [Exit.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse, hastily.
Ant. S.  Why, how  now, Dromio! where run'st
thou so fast?
Dro. S.  Do you know  me, sir? am  I Dromio?
am I your man? am I myself?
Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou
art thyself.
Dro. S.  I am an ass; I am a woman's man, and
besides myself.
Ant. S. What woman's man? and how besides
thyself?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to
a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me,
one that will have me.
Ant. S.  What claim lays she to thee?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay
to your horse; and she would have me as a beast:
not that, I being a beast, she would have me; but
that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim
to me.
K2




170         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.    ACT  II.
Ant. S.  What is she?
Dro. S.  A  very reverend body; ay, such a one
as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir-reverence. I have but lean luck in the match, and yet
she is a wondrous fat marriage.
Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and
all grease; and I know not what use to put her to,
but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her
own light.  I warrant, her rags and the tallow  in
them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till
doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole
world.
Ant. S. What complexion is she of?
Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing
like so clean kept: for why? she sweats, a man may
go over shoes in the grime of it.
Ant. S. That's a fault that water will mend.
Dro. S. No, sir;'tis in grain: Noah's flood could
not do it.
Ant. S. What's her name?
Dro. S. Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip.
Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth?
Dro. S. No longer from  head to foot, than from
hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could
find out countries in her.
Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland?
Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks: I found it
out by the bogs.
Ant. S. Where Scotland?
Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness, hard, in the
palm of the hand.
Ant. S. Where France?




SC. II.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                  171
Dro. S. In her forehead; arm'd and revolted, making war against her heir.
Ant. S.  Where England?
Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could
find no whiteness in them: but I guess, it stood in
her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France
and it.
Ant. S.  Where Spain?
Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in
her breath.
Ant. S.  Where America, the Indies?
Dro. S. 0! sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining
their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain, who sent
whole armadoes of carracks to be ballast at her nose.
Ant. S.  Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands?
Dro. S. 0! sir, I did not look so low.  To conclude, this drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me; call'd
me Dromio; swore I was assur'd to her: told me
what privy marks I had about me, as the mark of
my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart
on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from  her as a
witch: and, I think, if my breast had not been made
of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transform'd
me to a curtall-dog, and made me turn i' th' wheel.
Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently post to the road,
And if the wind blow any way from  shore,
I will not harbour in this town to-night.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If every one knows us, and we know none,'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and begone.
Dro. S.  As from a bear a man would run for life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife.   [Exit.
Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here,




172         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.    ACT IIl.
And therefore'tis high time that I were hence.
She that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor; but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself:
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter ANGELO.
Ang.  Master Antipholus?
Ant. S.  Ay, that's my name.
Ang.  I know it well, sir. Lo, here is the chain.
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine;
The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do with this?
Ang.  What please yourself, sir: I have made it
for you.
Ant. S.  Made it for me, sir? I bespoke it not.
Ang.  Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you
have.
Go home with it, and please your wife withal;
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you,
And then receive my money for the chain.
Ant. S.  I pray you, sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
Ang.  You are a merry man, sir.  Fare you well.
[Exit.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell;
But this I think, there's no man is so vain,
That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay:
If any ship put out, then straight away.     [Exit.




SC. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               173
ACT IV.
SCENE I.- A public Place.
Enter a Merchant, ANGELO, and an Officer.
MERCHANlT.
Y OU know, since Pentecost the sum is due,
And, since, I have not much importun'd you;
Nor now I had not, but that I am bound
To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage:
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or I'll attach you by this officer.
Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to
you,
Is growing to me by Antipholus;
And, in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a chain: at five o'clock,
I shall receive the money for the same.
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and DROMIO of
Ephesus, from the Courtezan's.
Officer. That labour may you save: see where he
comes.
Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go
thou
knd buy a rope's-end; that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day. -
But soft, I see the goldsmith. - Get thee gone;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me.




174        COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT IV.
Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a-year?  I buy
a rope?                              [Exit.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up that trusts to you:
I promised your presence, and the chain;
But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me.
Belike, you thought our love would last.too long,
If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note
How much your chain weighs to the utmost caract,
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion,
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
Than I stand debted to this gentleman:
I pray you, see him presently discharg'd,
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present money;
Besides, I have some business in the town.
Good signior, take the stranger to my house,
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof:
Perchance, I will be there as soon as you.
Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself?
Ant. E. No; bear it with you, lest I come not
time enough.
Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about
you?
Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you have,
Or else you may return without your money.
Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the
chain:
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
Ant. E. Good lord! you use this dalliance, to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine.




SC. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 175
I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
Mer.  The hour steals on: I pray you, sir, dispatch.
Ang.  You hear how  he importunes me: —the
chain.
Ant. E.  Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your
money.
Ang.  Come, come; you know, I gave it you even
now.
Either send the chain, or send me by some token.
Ant. E.  Fie! now you run this humour out of
breath.
Come, where's the chain? I pray you, let me see it.
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance.
Good sir, say whe'r you'll answer me, or no?
If not, I'll leave him to the officer.
Ant. E.  I answer you! what should I answer
you?
Ang.  The money that you owe me for the chain.
Ant. E.  I owe you none, till I receive the chain.
Ang.  You know, I gave it you half an hour since.
Ant. E.  You gave me none: you wrong me much
to say so.
Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it:
Consider how it stands upon my credit.
Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit.
Off. I do, and charge you in the Duke's name to
obey me.
Ang.  This touches me in reputation. -
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this officer.
Ant. E.  Consent to pay thee that I never had?
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.
Ang. Here is thy fee: arrest him, officer. —




176         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.              ACT IV.
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorn me so apparently.
Of.  I do arrest you, sir: you hear the suit.
Ant. E.  I do obey thee, till I give thee bail. —
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear,
As all the metal in your shop will answer.
Ang.  Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum,
That stays but till her owner comes aboard,
And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir,
I have convey'd aboard, and I have bought
The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae.
The ship is in her trim: the merry wind
Blows fair from land; they stay for nought at all,
But for their owner, master, and yourself.
Ant. E.  How now? a madman? Why, thou peevish sheep,
What ship of Epidamnum  stays for me?
Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.
Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a
rope;
And told thee to what purpose, and what end.
Dro. S.  You sent me for a rope's-end as soon.
You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark.
Ant. E.  I will debate this matter at more leisure,
And teach your ears to list me with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight;
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry,
There is a purse of ducats: let her send it.
Tell her, I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me.  Hie thee, slave, be gone.




SC. II.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                 177
On, officer, to prison till it come.
[Exeunt Merchant, ANGELO, Officer,
and ANT. E.
Dro. S. To Adriana? that is where we din'd,
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband:
She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.
Thither I must, although against my will,
For servants must their masters' minds fulfil.  [Exit.
SCENE II.
Court in the House of ANTIPHOLUS.
Enter ADRIANA and LTcCIANA.
Adr. Ah! Luciana, did he tempt thee so?
Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest? yea or no?
Look'd he or red, or pale? or sad, or merrily?
What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face?
Luc. First he deni'd you had in him no right.
Adr. He meant, he did me none: the more my spite.
Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger here.
Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he
were.
Luc. Then pleaded I for you.
Adr.                         And what said he?
Luc. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me.
Adr. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love?
Luc. With words that in an honest suit might
move.
First, he did praise my beauty; then, my speech.
Adr. Didst speak him fair?
Luc.                  Have patience, I beseech.
VOL. III.           L




178         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.              ACT IV.
Adr.  I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still:
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere,
Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapeless every where;
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind,
Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
Luc.  Who would be jealous, then, of such a one?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.
Adr.  Ah! but I think him better than I say,
And yet would herein others' eyes were worse.
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away:
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do
curse.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S.  Here, go: the desk! the purse! sweet,
now make haste.
Luc.  How hast thou lost thy breath?
Dro. S.                          By running fast.
Adr.  Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well?
Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than Hell:
A devil in an everlasting garment hath him,
One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel;
A fiend, a fairy pitiless and rough;
A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;
A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands
The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands:
A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot
well;
One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to
Hell.
Adr.  Why, man, what is the matter?
Dro. S. I do not know the matter: he is'rested
on the case.




sC. II.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                   179
Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at whose suit.
Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested,
well;
But is in a suit of buff which'rested him, that can
I tell.
Will you send him, mistress, redemption? the money
in his desk?
Adr.  Go fetch it, sister. — This I wonder at;
[Exit LUCIANA.
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt: -
Tell me, was he arrested on a band?
Dro. S.  Not on a band, but on a stronger thing;
A chain, a chain: do you not hear it ring?
Adr.  What, the chain?
Dro. S. No, no, the bell.'Tis time that I were
gone:
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.
Adr.  The hours come back! that did I never hear.
Dro. S.  0, yes; if any hour meet a serjeant, a'
turns back for very fear.
Adr.  As if Time were in debt! how fondly dost
thou reason!
Dro. S.  Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more
than he's worth to season.
Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say
That Time comes stealing on by night and day?
If he be in debt and theft, and a serjeant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day?
Enter LUCIANA.
Adr.  Go, Dromio: there's the money, bear it
straight,
And bring thy master home immediately.Come, sister; I am press'd down with conceit,
Conceit, my comfort, and my injury.    [Exeunt.




180         COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT IV.
SCENE III.
A public Place.
Enter ANTIPHOLsS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. There's not a man I meet but doth salute me,
As if I were their well acquainted friend;
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me, some invite me;
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses;
Some offer me commodities to buy:
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop,
And show'd me silks that he had bought for me,
And, therewithal, took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles,
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.
Enter DRoMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for.
What have you got the picture of old Adam new
appareli'd?
Ant. S. What gold is this?  What Adam  dost
thou mean?
Dro. S. Not that Adam  that kept the Paradise,
but that Adam that keeps the prison: he that goes
in the calf's-skin that was kill'd for the prodigal: he
that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and
bid you forsake your liberty.
Ant. S. I understand thee not.
Dro. S. No? why,'tis a plain case: he that went,
like a base-viol, in a case of leather: the man, sir,
that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a stop,
and'rests them: he, sir, that takes pity on decayed




sc. III.     COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 181
men, and gives them suits of durance; he that sets
up his rest to do more exploits with his mace than
a morris-pike.
Ant. S.  What, thou mean'st an officer?
Dro. S. Ay, sir, the Serjeant of the Band; he
that brings any man to answer it that breaks his
band: one that thinks a man always going to bed,
and says,' God give you good rest!'
Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is
there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone?
Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour
since that the bark Expedition put forth to-night;
and then were you hindered by the Serjeant to tarry
for the hoy Delay.  Here are the angels that you
sent for to deliver you.
Ant. S.  The fellow is distract, and so am I;
And here we wander in illusions.
Some blessed power deliver us from hence!
Enter Courtezan.
Courtezan. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus.
I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now:
Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day?
Ant. S.  Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me
not!
Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan?
Ant. S. It is the Devil.
Dro. S. Nay, she is worse; she is the Devil's
dam; and here she comes in the habit of a light
wench: and thereof comes that the wenches say,
" God damn me," that's as much as to say,' God
make me a light wench.' It is written, they appear
to men like angels of light: light is an effect of
fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will
burn.  Come not near her.




182        COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT IV.
Cour. Your man and you are marvellous merry,
sir.
Will you go with me? we'll mend our dinner here.
Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat, and
bespeak a long spoon.
Ant. S. Why, Dromio?
Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon that
must eat with the Devil.
Ant. S. Avoid, thou fiend! what tell'st thou me
of supping?
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress:
I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or for my diamond the chain you promis'd,
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Dro. S.  Some devils ask but the parings of one's
nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone;
But she, more covetous, would have a chain.
Master, be wise: an if you give it her,
The Devil will shake her chain, and fright us with it.
Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain.
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.
Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let
us go.
Dro. S.' Fly pride,' says the peacock: Mistress,
that you know.    [Exeunt ANT. and DRO.
Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad,
Else would he never so demean himself.
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats;
And for the same he promis'd me a chain:
Both one and other he denies me now.
The reason that I gather he is mad,




sc. IV.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                  183
Besides this present instance of his rage,
Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner
Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits,
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now, to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatic,
He rush'd into my house, and took perforce
My ring away.  This course I fittest choose,
For forty ducats is too much to lose.         [Exit.
SCENE IV.
The Same.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, and an Officer.
Ant. E. Fear me not, man; I will not break away:
I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money,
To warrant thee, as I am'rested for.
My wife is in a wayward mood to-day,
And will not lightly trust the messenger:
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus,
I tell you,'twill sound harshly in her ears.
Enter DROMIO of Ephesus with a rope's-end.
Here comes my man: I think he brings the money. 
How now, sir? have you that I sent you for?
Dro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them
all.
Ant. E.  But where's the money?
Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope.
Ant. E.  Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope?
Dro. E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate.
Ant. E.  To what end did I bid thee hie thee home?




184         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.            ACT IV.
Dro. E. To a rope's-end, sir; and to that end am
I return'd.
Ant. E.  And to that end, sir, I will welcome you.
[Beats him.
Off. Good sir, be patient.
Dro. E.  Nay,'tis for me to be patient; I am in
adversity.
Off. Good now, hold thy tongue.
Dro. E.  Nay, rather persuade him  to hold his
hands.
Ant. E.  Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir; that I
might not feel your blows.
Ant. E.  Thou art sensible in nothing but blows,
and so is an ass.
Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed: you may prove it
by my long ears. I have serv'd him from the hour
of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at
his hands for my service, but blows. When I am
cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm,
he cools me with beating: I am wak'd with it when
I sleep, rais'd with it when I sit, driven out of
doors with it when I go from home, welcom'd home
with it when I return: nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when
he hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door to
door.
Ant. E. Come, go along: my wife is coming yonder.
Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the Courtezan, PINCH,
and others.
Dro. E. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end;
or rather the prophecy, like the parrot,' Beware the
rope's-end.'
Ant. E.  Wilt thou still talk?       Beats him.




SC. IV.     COMEDY OF ERRORS.                185
Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad?
Adr. His incivility confirms no less. 
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer;
Establish him in his true sense again,
And I will please you what you will demand.
Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks!
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy!
Pinch.  Give me your hand, and let me feel your
pulse.
Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.
Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight:
I conjure thee by all the saints in Heaven.
Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am not mad.
Adr.  0, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul!
Ant. E. You minion, you; are these your customers?
Did this companion with the saffron face
Revel and feast it at my house to-day,
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house?
Adr.  0, husband, God doth know, you din'd at
home;
Where'would you had remain'd until this time,
Free from these slanders and this open shame!
Ant. E. Din'd at home! Thou, villain, what say'st
thou?
Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at
home.
Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I
shut out?
Dro. E.  Perdy, your doors were lock'd, and you
shut out.
Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there?
L2




186         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.            ACT iv.
Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you there.
Ant. E.  Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and
scorn me?
Dro. E. Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd
you.
Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from thence?
Dro. E. In verity, you did: - my bones bear witness,
That since have felt the vigour of his rage.
Adr.  Is't good to soothe him in these contraries?
Pinch.  It is no shame: the fellow finds his vein,
And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.
Ant. E.  Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me.
Adr.  Alas, I sent you money to redeem you,
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.
Dro. E.  Money by me! heart and good-will you
might;
But, surely, master, not a rag of money.
Ant. E.  Went'st not thou to her for a purse of
ducats?
Adr. He came to me, and I deliver'd it.
Luc. And I am witness with her that she did.
Dro. E.  God and the rope-maker bear me witness,
That I was sent for nothing but a rope!
Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is possess'd:
I know it by their pale and deadly looks.
They must be bound, and laid in some dark room.
Ant. E.  Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth
to-day,
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold?
Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.
Dro. E.  And, gentle master, I receiv'd no gold;
But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out.
Adr. Dissembling villain! thou speak'st false in
both.




SC. IV.     COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                187
Ant. E.  Dissembling harlot! thou art false in all,
And art confederate with a damned pack
To make a loathsome, abject scorn of me;
But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes,
That would behold in me this shameful sport.
Enter three or four, and offer to bind ANTIPHOLUS
and DROMIO.
Adr.  O bind him, bind him! let him not come
near me.
Pinch.  More company! - the fiend is strong within him.
Luc. Ah me! poor man, how pale and wan he
looks!
Ant. E.  What, will you murther me? Thou gaoler, thou,
I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them
To make a rescue?
fl.               Masters, let him go:
He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.
Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too.
Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himself?
Off. He is my prisoner: if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be requir'd of me.
Adr.  I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee.
Bear me forthwith unto his creditor,
And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Good Master Doctor, see him safe convey'd
Home to my house. - 0, most unhappy day!
Ant. E.  0, most unhappy strumpet!
Dro. E. Master, I am here enter'd in bond for you.
Ant. E.  Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost thou
mad me?




188        COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT IV.
Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing? be mad,
good master;
Cry, The Devil!Luc. God help, poor souls! how idlely do they talk.
Adr. Go bear him hence. -Sister, go you with
me. -
[Exeunt PINCH and assistants with ANTIPHOITUS and DROMIO.
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at?
Of. One Angelo, a goldsmith; do you know him?
Adr. I know the man. What is the sum he owes?
Of. Two hundred ducats.
Adr.                    Say, how grows it due?
Off. Due for a chain your husband had of him.
Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had
it not.
Cour. When as your husband, all in rage, to-day
Came to my house and took away my ring,
(The ring I saw upon his finger now)
Straight after did I meet him with a chain.
Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it.Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is:
I long to know the truth hereof at large.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, with his rapier
drawn, and DROMIO of Syracuse.
Luc. God, for thy mercy! they are loose again.
Adr. And come with naked swords.  Let's call
more help,
To have them bound again.
Off.                     Away! they'll kill us.
[Exeunt ADRIANA, LIUCIANA, and Officer.
Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords.
Dro. S. She that would be your wife now ran
from you.




SC. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                189
Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from
thence:
I long that we were safe and sound aboard.
Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm: you saw they speak us fair, give
us gold. Methinks they are such a gentle nation,
that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims
marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here
still, and turn witch.
Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town;
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard.  [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — The Same. Before an Abbey.
Enter Merchant and ANGELO.
ANGELO.
I AM sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you;
But, I protest, he had the chain of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.
Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city?
Ang. Of very reverend reputation, sir,
Of credit infinite, highly belov'd,
Second to none that lives here in the city:
His word might bear my wealth at any time.
Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse.
Ang.'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck,




190         COMEDY OF ERRORS.              ACT V.
Which he forswore, most monstrously, to have.
Good sir, draw near to me; I'll speak to him.Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
And not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance and oaths so to deny
This chain which now you wear so openly:
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend;
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day.
This chain you had of me: can you deny it?
Ant. S. I think I had: I never did deny it.
Mer. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore it
too.
Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it?
Mer. These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear
thee.
Fie on thee, wretch!'tis pity that thou liv'st
To walk where any honest men resort.
Ant. S. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus.
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain.
[They draw.
Enter ADRIANA, LTUCIANA, Courtezan, and others.
Adr.  Hold! hurt him not, for God's sake! he is
mad. -
Some get within him; take his sword away.
Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house.
Dro. S. Run, master, run; for God's sake take
a house!
This is some priory:- in, or we are spoil'd.
[Exeunt ANTIPHOLUS and DRoMIO to the Abbey.




SC. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                191
Enter the Lady Abbess.
Abbess. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you
hither?
Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence.
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast
And bear him home for his recovery.
Ang.  I knew he was not in his perfect wits.
Mer. I am sorry, now, that I did draw on him.
Abb. How long hath this possession held the man?
Adr.  This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad:
And much different from the man he was;
But, till this afternoon, his passion
Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.
Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea?
Buried some dear friend?  Hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
A sin prevailing much in youthful men
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows is he subject to?
Adr. To none of these, except it be the last;
Namely, some love, that drew him oft from home.
Abb. You should for that have reprehended him.
Adr. Why, so I did.
Abb.                 Ay, but not rough enough.
Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me.
Abb. Haply, in private.
Adr.                     And in assemblies too
Abb. Ay, but not enough.
Adr. It was the copy of our conference.
In bed, he slept not for my urging it;
At board, he fed not for my urging it;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
In company, I often glanc'd [at] it:
Still did I tell him it was vile and bad.




192         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.               ACT V.
Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad:
The venom  clamours of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing,
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings:
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred:
And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls:
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair,
And at her heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast.
The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits
Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits.
Luc.  She never reprehended him but mildly,
When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly. -
Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not?
Adr.  She did betray me to my own reproof. -
Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.
Abb.  No; not a creature enters in my house.
Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband
forth.
Abb.  Neither: he took this place for sanctuary,
And it shall privilege him from your hands,
Till I have brought him to his wits again,
Or lose my labour in essaying it.
Adr.  I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sickness; for it is my office,
And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.




sc. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                193
Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir,
Till I have us'd the approved means I have,
With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal man again.
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order;
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.
Adr.  I will not hence, and leave my husband
here;
And ill it doth beseem your holiness
To separate the husband and the wife.
Abb. Be quiet, and depart: thou shalt not have
him.                         [Exit Abbess.
Luc. Complain unto the Duke of this indignity.
Adr. Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet,
And never rise until my tears and prayers
Have won his Grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the Abbess.
Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five:
Anon, I'm sure, the Duke himself in person
Comes this way to the melancholy vale,
The place of death and sorry execution,
Behind the ditches of the Abbey here.
Ang. Upon what cause?
Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay
Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.
Ang. See, where they come: we will behold his
death.
Luc. Kneel to the Duke before he pass the Abbey.
Enter DUKE attended: EEGEON bare-headed; with
the Headsman and other Officers.
Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly,
VOL. III.        M




194        COMEDY OF ERRORS.              ACT V.
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die: so much we tender him.
Adr. Justice, most sacred Duke, against the Abbess!
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady:
It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong.
Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus, my
husband,
Who I made lord of me, and all I had,
At your important letters, this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him,
That desp'rately he hurried through the street,
(With him his bondman, all as mad as he)
Doing displeasure to the citizens
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him,
And with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chas'd us away: till, raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them. Then they fled
Into this Abbey, whither we pursu'd them;
And here the Abbess shuts the gates on us,
And will not suffer us to fetch him out,
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious Duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.
Duke. Long since thy husband serv'd me in my
wars,
And I to thee engag'd a prince's word,




SC. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                 195
When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
To do him all the grace and good I could.Go, some of you, knock at the Abbey gate,
And bid the Lady Abbess come to me.
I will determine this before I stir.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.  O mistress, mistress! shift and save yourself.
My master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the maids a-row, and bound the doctor,
Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands of
fire;
And ever, as it blaz'd, they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair.
My master preaches patience to him; and, the while,
His man with scissors nicks him like a fool;
And, sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.
Adr.  Peace, fool! thy master and his man are
here:
And that is false thou dost report to us.
Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true;
I have not breath'd, almost, since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you.
L Cry within
Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress: fly, be gone.
Duke.  Come, stand by me; fear nothing.  Guard
with halberds!
Adr.  Ah me, it is my husband! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible:
Even now we hous'd him in the Abbey here,
And now he's there, past thought of human reason.




196        COMEDY OF ERRORS.              ACT V.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DRoMIO of Ephesus.
Ant. E. Justice, most gracious Duke! O! grant
me justice,
Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
~ge. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio!
Ant. E.  Justice, sweet Prince, against that woman
there!
She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife,
That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
Even in the strength and height of injury.
Beyond imagination is the wrong
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
Ant. E. This day, great Duke, she shut the doors
upon me,
While she with harlots feasted in my house.
Duke. A grievous fault. Say, woman, didst thou
so?
Adr. No, my good lord: myself, he, and my sister,
To-day did dine together. So befall my soul,
As this is false he burthens me withal.
Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your highness simple truth.'Ang. 0, perjur'd woman! They are both forsworn:
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say;
Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash provok'd with raging ire,




sc. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                197
Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner:
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it, for he was with me then;
Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him: in the street I met him,
And in his company, that gentleman.
There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down,
That I this day of him receiv'd the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not; for the which
He did arrest me with an officer.
I did obey, and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats: he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
To go in person with me to my house.
B' th' way we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble
more
Of vile confederates: along with them
They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man. This pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer,
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as'twere, out-facing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd. Then, altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence,
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together;
Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately




198         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.            ACT V.
Ran hither to your Grace, whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep shames and great indignities.
Ang.  My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with
him,
That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out.
Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no?
Ang.  He had, my lord; and when he ran in here,
These people saw the chain about his neck.
Mer.  Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine
Heard you confess you had the chain of him,
After you first forswore it on the mart,
And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you;
And then you fled into this Abbey here,
From whence, I think, you are come by miracle.
Ant. E.  I never came within these Abbey walls,
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me.
I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven!
And this is false you burthen me withal.
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup.
If here you hous'd him, here he would have been;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly:You say he din'd at home; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying. - Sirrah, what say you?
Dro. E.  Sir, he din'd with her, there, at the Porpentine.
Cour. He did, and from my finger snatch'd that
ring.
Ant. E.'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of
her.
Duke.  Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey here?
Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your Grace.
Duke. Why, this is strange. - Go call the Abbess
hither. -




so. I.      COMEDY OF ERRORS.                 199
I think you are all mated, or stark mad.
[Exit an Attendant.
Ege.  Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a
word.
Haply, I see a friend will save my life,
And pay the sum that may deliver me.
Duke.  Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt.
ZEge. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus,
And is not that your bondman Dromio?
Dro. E.  Within this hour I was his bondman,
sir;
But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords:
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound.
ZEge. I am sure you both of you remember me.
Dro. E.  Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you;
For lately we were bound, as you are now.
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir?
ZEge. Why look you strange on me? you know
me well.
Ant. E.  I never saw you in my life till now.:Ege. O! grief hath chang'd me since you saw
me last;
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face:
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
Ant. E. Neither.
lEge.             Dromio, nor thou?
Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I.
ZEge.                      I am sure thou dost.
Dro. E.  Ay, sir; but I am sure I do not; and
whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
~Ege. Not know my voice? 0, time's extremity!
Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue
In seven short years that here my only son




200         COMEDY  OF ERRORS.             ACT V.
Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares?
Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory,
My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,
My dull, deaf ears a little use to hear:
All these old witnesses (I cannot err)
Tell me thou art my son Antipholus.
Ant. E.  I never saw my father in my life.
-Bge. But seven years since, in Syracusa. boy,
Thou know'st we parted. But, perhaps, my son,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.
Ant. E.  The Duke, and all that know me in the
city,
Can witness with me that it is not so.
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years
Have I been patron to Antipholus,
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa.
I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Enter Abbess, with ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and
DROMIO of Syracuse.
Abb. Most mighty Duke, behold a man much
wrong'd.            [All gather to see them.
Adr.  I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive
me!
Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other;
And so of these: which is the natural man,
And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?
Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio: command him away.
Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio: pray let me stay.
Ant. S. 2Egeon, art thou not? - or else his ghost.
Dro. S.  0, my old master! Who hath bound him
here?




sc. I.      COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                201
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,
And gain a husband by his liberty. -
Speak, old 2Egeon, if thou be'st the man
That hadst a wife once call'd AEmilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons.
0! if thou be'st the same iEgeon, speak,
And speak unto the same 2Emilia!
kEge.  If I dream not, thou art Emilia.
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son
That floated with thee on the fatal raft?
Abb.  By men of Epidamnum, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up;
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth
By force took Dromio and my son from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamnum.
What then became of them, I cannot tell;
I, to this fortune that you see me in.
Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right.
These two Antipholus', these two so like,
And these two Dromios, one in semblance, —Besides her urging of her wrack at sea; —
These are the parents to these children,
Which accidentally are met together.
Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first.
Ant. S. No, sir, not I: I came from Syracuse.
Duke. Stay, stand apart: I know not which is
which.
Ant. E.  I came from Corinth, my most gracious
lord.
Dro. E. And I with him.
Ant. E.  Brought to this town by that most famous warrior,
Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day?
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.
M2




202        COMEDY OF ERRORS.              ACT V.
Adr. And are not you my husband?
Ant. E. No; I say nay to that.
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so;
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
Did call me brother. - What I told you then,
I hope I shall have leisure to make good,
If this be not a dream I see and hear.
Ang. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. I think it be, sir: I deny it not.
Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me.
Ang. I think I did, sir: I deny it not.
Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio; but I think, he brought it not.
Dro. E. No, none by me.
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you,
And Dromio, my man, did bring them me.
I see, we still did meet each other's man,
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these errors all arose.
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here.
Duke. It shall not need: thy father hath his life.
Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you.
Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks for my
good cheer.
Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
To go with us into the Abbey here,
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes;
4nd all that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathized one day's error
Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company,
And we shall make full satisfaction.
Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons; and till this present hour
My heavy burthen here delivered. 
The Duke, my husband, and my children both,




sc. I.       COMEDY  OF ERRORS.                 203
And you the calendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossips' feast, and joy with me:
After so long grief, such nativity!
Duke.  With all my heart: I'll gossip at this feast.
[Exeunt Duke, Abbess, AEGEON, Courtezan,
Merchant, ANGELO, and Attendants.
Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard?
Ant. E.  Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd?
Dro. S.  Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the
Centaur.
Ant. S.  He speaks to me. — I am  your master,
Dromio:
Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon.
Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him.
[Exeunt ANT. S. and E., ADR., and Luc.
Dro. S.  There is a fat friend at your master's
house,
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner:
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.
Dro. E.  Methinks, you are my glass, and not my
brother:
I see by you I am a sweet-fac'd youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping?
Dro. S.  Not I, sir: you are my elder.
Dro. E. That's a question: how shall we try it?
Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then,
lead thou first.
Dro. E. Nay, then thus:
We came into the world like brother and brother;
And now, let's go hand in hand, not one before another.                               [Exeunt.








NOTES ON THE COMEDY OF
ERRORS.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE I.
p. 141.  "-  wanting guilders":- The guilder is both a
Flemish and a German coin; the former being about
thirty-eight cents in value, the latter about eighty-seven.
"    " Both by the Syracusians ": - This is the uniform orthography of the folio, showing plainly that the presence
of the i is not accidental, and indicating the pronunciation of the word. Therefore, and not because Bentley
approved of it, it is retained. Bentley was at the needless trouble of deriving Syracusians from Zvax'ioi,. t; but
a similar introduction of i is a very common error in
classic neology.
p. 142.  " And by me [too] ": -' Too,' omitted in the first, was
added in the second folio.'"     --  voyages I often made ":-A merchant was said
to make a voyage when he sent a ship on one. It is evident, from the context, that JEgeon did not go to Epi.
damnum until after the death of his factor there.
I"    " To Epidamnum ":- This word is uniformly spelled
", Epidamium " in the first folio; but being a proper name,
it is corrected, although an English adjective formed from
it, like " Syracusian," above, should not be. The case
differs, too, from that of'Argier' in The Tempest; that
being a different word from'Algiers,' not an improper
spelling of it. Epidamnum  is the town at which the
travelling brother in the Mennechmi arrives.
t    " A meaner woman," &c.: —The folio has " A meane
woman," - the r having dropped out. This slight error
not having been perceived, the interpolation of' poor,' -
A poor mean woman," - made in the second folio, has,
(205)




206           COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT I.
of necessity, been hitherto retained, in spite of the disagreeable repetition of the word in the next line but one.
That the use of the comparative implied no positive meanness of condition in JEgeon's wife, the whole literature of
Shakespeare's day, and these two instances out of several
in his own plays, may be brought to prove.
" Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
Did worthily perform."  Tempest, Act IV. Sc. 1.
"Qu. Eliz. And meaner than myself have had like
fortune." 3 Henry VI., Act IV. Sc. 1.
p. 144.  " Were carried towards Corinth":- The original has
" Was carried," a disagreement which is of very frequent
occurrence in the original text of this comedy. It may
possibly be the result of carelessness, but seems rather to
be indicative of the early period at which parts of the
play were written.  See the Preface, Vol. I.  Perhaps
this antique rudeness should not be polished away; but
the text has been for so many years regulated according
to established usage, and an adherence to the original
would so deform the language and annoy the general
reader, that previous custom has been conformed to. In
all editions hitherto the change has been made silently.
"  -  violently borne upon ":- The original has
"up," the second folio "up upon."  The correction required is obvious.
"     " Gave healthful welcome ": - The second folio needlessly substituted "helpful," which many editors adopted.
p. 145. " What hath befall'n of them, and thee ": - The original has " have" and " they."  The correction was made
in the second folio., Roaming clean through," &c.:-This word, in its
sense of' entirely,''perfectly,' is so commonly used in
America, that Steevens' remark, made seventy-five years
ago, that it is " still used in the northern parts of England," is valuable on this side the water only because it
is one of the many evidences that the English of the Bible
and of Shakespeare exists in greater purity here than there.
"    "To seek thy [life] ":- The original has, "To seek
thy help by beneficial help." This part of the play was
surely written by Shakespeare, and although Mr. Dyce
says, in the words of Malone, that the jingle is quite in
Shakespeare's manner, let who will believe that he wrote,
at any time, such tautological nonsense. Shakespeare
often repeats a word, or uses one which sounds much like
another which has just preceded it, in a manner seeming
to indicate that he sought the'jingle,' or, rather, I think,




8C. I.                   NOTES.                          207
that the similarity of sound suggested the second word;
but he never sacrifices sense to sound, as he would
have done by saying that a man sought help by help.
Mr. Singer proposed to read * fine;' Mr. Collier suggested' hope,' which was afterward found in his folio of 1632;
but it was _Egeon's life that he was to seek by beneficial
help.  The Duke says, " though thou art adjudged to the
death, yet will I favour thee;... therefore I'll limit
thee this day to seek thy "        what? With what other
word than'life' could he fitly close his sentence? The
error did not result from a mistake of one word for the
other, but almost surely from a confusion of memory in
the mind of the compositor, who set the whole line at
once. Pope read   life.'
p. 146.  "-    doth 2Egeon wend ":   Steevens and others,
writing for our great grandfathers, and Halliwell, writing
for us, call this word obsolete. In America it is not as
commonly used as' coilie' or' go,' only because there is
less frequent occasion for it.
"     "  his liveless end ": - So the first folio: not by a
typographical error or careless writing, or from unsettled
orthography, but because that was a form of the word
in use when the line was written.
SCENE II.
" Enter ANTIPHOLUS ": - The old stage direction here
is, " Enter ANTIPHOLUS Erotes," afterward ANTIPHOLUS
Errotis, - corruptions of Erraticus.  See Introduction.
"     "A trusty villain": - a faithful bondsman: the original signification of the word. So lago speaks of " honest
knaves," -'knave' meaning' servant.' See Notes on
Othello, Act I. Sc. 1.
p. 147.  "And afterwards consort you," &c.: -It is more than
probable that'with' has dropped, or was omitted, between " consort" and "you;" but   consort' was used
without the preposition; and the rhythm of the line may
be preserved by making I" bed time" a spondee.
p. 148. " I shall be post indeed ": - Scores were kept on posts.
"Kate she keeps the schore, syr,
And schores yt on the post."
See the third of Three Curious Ballads, published by the
Shakespeare Society. But the post thus scored was probably the door-post.
"    " -     should be your clock ":The folio has " cook: "
- a manifest error, corrected by Pope.
p. 149.  " The villain is o'er-raught ": - over-reached.




208           COMEDY OF ERRORS.   ACT II.
ACT SECOND.
SCENE I.
p. 150.  " Court in the House of ANTIPHOLUS": - The original
is without stage directions, or division into Scenes. Modern editors, from and including Malone, have most unaccountably made the interviews between Adriana and her
sister and Dromio and others, occur in " A public Place."
Setting aside the absurdity of making two women walk
out into a street or square on either of the occasions in
question, on this, Adriana says that neither husband nor
slave has returned; and when Dromio appears, she tells
him twice to go back to his master and fetch him home,
and he replies,, Go back again, and be new beaten home?"
It is almost needless to say that the place of the Scene is
the house of Antipholus. I have placed it in the court;
because in Eastern houses, and those of all tropical countries, there is an inner court open to the street, in which
the females of the household pass much time: into this
court the Dromios would run with their messages, and in
a part of such a court, covered with an arched roof, Adriana would most probably sit at dinner in the first Scene
of the next Act.
"    "c-  he takes it [ill] ": - The folio has " he takes it
thus."  That the text, which is that of the second folio, is
correct, appears not only from the rhyme, but the sense.' Thus' refers to nothing.
p. 151.  " Spake he so doubtfully ":Both here and in Dromio's reply, Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 has " doubly."
p. 152.  " He ask'd me for a thousand marks ": - The original
has " a hundred;" an error which was corrected in the
second folio.
"     "Will you come [home], quoth I":- Theobald supplied the word in brackets, which is not in the folio, but
which the rhythm  requires, and which was probably
passed over in MS. on account of its similarity to the
word immediately before it.
p. 153.  "  -  his stale ":- Steevens takes this to mean' his
pretended wife,' the sportsman's stalking horse having
been called a stale; but is not the more obvious signification of the word the more appropriate?
"  "Would that alone, alone," &c.:- The original has
"a love " for the second' alone:' an obvious error, corrected in the second folio.




SC. II.                   NOTES.                          -209
p. 153.  " I see tne jewel," &c.: - This passage stands thus
corrupted in the folio:" I see the Iewell best enameled
Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still
That others touch, and often touching will,
Where gold and no man that hath a name,
By falshood and corruption doth it shame."
The restoration is the resultant of the labors of Theobald,
(or Warburton,) Steevens, and Collier. The corruption
was produced by mistaking' tho"' for'the,'' an' for' and,'
and' wear' (by the ear) for'where.' Theobald read,
"and so no man that hath a name
But falsehood," &c.:
Heath, more plausibly,'' and so a man that hath a name
By falsehood and corruption doth it shame."
SCENE II.
p. 155.    Hold, sir - Pray, sir - Ay, sir - Nothing, sir"  -
This use of  sir,' - a word which is scattered in just this
way through the dramatic literature of the golden age of
English letters and of the English language " as thick as
leaves in Vallombrosa," -the Great Britons of to-day
sneer at as an Americanism! It occurs here, in a short
dialogue, at least twenty times, and in Act V. Sc. 1, p.
202, five times in five consecutive lines.
p. 156.  " — fine and recovery ":- This is a law term  for a
now obsolete mode of transferring a title to real estate.
The frequent occurrence of such phrases in Shakespeare's
works and his very accurate use of them, have been justly considered as evidence that he had studied law before
he went to London.  See Life, Vol. I.
"ff              what he hath scanted men in hair":   The
original has " them."  Theobald made the necessary correction.
p 1i7.  "  -  in a thing falling ":   The folio has "falsing,"
with a long s, of course, - a very easy mistake for the
word in the text, which was suggested by Heath, though
on very insufficient ground. That it is the word, however, is shown by Antipholus' expression, " not sure," (for' sure' was of old opposed not to'false,' but to' uncertain,'' insecure,') and Dromio's, " they should not drop;"
and besides, in what possible sense is the hair falsing?
Yet that word has hitherto been retained.
F "    to save the money that he spends in trimming ":
-The folio has " trying," quite plainly an error for
VOL. III.                N




210             COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT [l.' tryming,' -the loss of a man's hair saving him, of
course, all expense in getting it cut. Pope read "'tiring,"
which is less conformable to the sense and the old word.
The proper word appears in both Mr. Collier's and Mr.
Singer's corrected copies of the folio of 1632.
p. 157.  " -        namely, is no time to recover hair ": -- An elision for' there is,'quite suitable to Dromio. We have
had the same just before in Measure for Measure, Act 1.
Sc. 5, twice.
" The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;
- Bore many gentlemen," &c.,
for' He bore,' &c.:
" Doth he so seek his life?
Has censur'd him," &c.,
for'He has censured,' &c.; and we have the same just
after in this play, Act IV. Sc. 2, "But is in a suit of
buff," &c., for "But he is in," &c. The first folio has
"in no time," -  easily misprinted for "is," &c.  But
the error has hitherto remained undetected; Malone and
all his successors reading " e'en," a forced correction and
a strange expression in this place, and the second folio,
which Mr. Dyce would follow, cutting the knot by dropping the word altogether.
p. 158.  "I live distain'd, thou one dishonoured": — The folio
has," undishonoured," a very easy typographical error for' one dishonoured,' -' one' being spelled' o n': see Notes
on this word, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act II. Sc. 1, and
Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. 1.  The error, however, has hitherto remained uncorrected, and has caused
much trouble, and a perversion of the author's meaning.
It has been even attempted to make "distain'd" mean' unstained,' that is, exactly the reverse of what it does
and ever did mean; which is absurd, as Mr. Dyce perceived; and he, therefore, (Theobald having made the
suggestion,) would have it a misprint for' unstained,'
which is not probable, especially if it were succeeded by' un-dishonoured.' Besides, this gives a meaning directly
opposed to the tenor of Adriana's speech. She believes
Antipholus guilty; and says to him, "I am  possessed
with an adulterate blot," " I do digest the poison of thy
flesh," &c.,,Keep, then, fair league," &c., for now  "I
live distain'd, thou one dishonoured."
"    Want wit in all, one word," &c.: - Never was point
more needed, even in the prologue to Pyramus and Thisbe,
to prevent plain sense from becoming absolute nonsense;
and yet this comma, which appears in the original folio,
has, strangely enough, been omitted in every modern edition until the present.




SC. I.                    NOTES.                          211
p 160.'  -  theforced fallacy": - The original has "free'd,"
which, being manifestly an error, Pope read'favoured,'
Steevens  offered,' and Mr. Collier's folio of 1632'proffered.' The second word has been hitherto justly preferred
to a place in the text, as it conforms most nearly both to
the sense of the passage and to the trace of the word in
the original, although remote enough from  the latter.
Adriana's persistence, and Antipholus' phrase, " sure uncertainty," in the previous line, show that there was an
easily made misprint of' free'd' for' forced.', -     goblins, owles, [elves,] and sprites ":- The original has " goblins, owles, and sprights," thus leaving the
line imperfect.  The second folio has " goblins, owles, and
elves sprights," upon which the hitherto accepted reading, " goblins, owls, and elvish sprites," is founded.  But
as Shakespeare never elsewhere designates sprites or fairies
as elvish, although he had so often occasion for doing so,
had he deemed the epithet a fit or a proper one, and as
elves always figure in his fairy land, we are warranted
in believing that he did not make this one instance doubly exceptional.  "Owles" is retained because its old
dissyllabic pronunciation of the plural seems evidently
intended here. For these reasons the editor had thus regulated the line before the discovery of Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632, in which the same reading was found.
"' Dromio, thou drone ": - The original has " Dromio,
thou Dromio," which, if it stood alone, and Luciana were
calling out to Dromio at a distance, to attract his attention, would be correct, as such repetition was the habit of
the time: but she is evidently relieving her vexation by
heaping abusive epithets upon him, and he stands close by,
attending to her. The second' Dromio,' too, crushes a line
already overloaded by the first. The habit alluded to
probably produced the misprint, which Theobald pointed
out.
ACT THIRD.
SCENE I.
p. 161.  " Before the house of Antipholus": - Since Malone's
time the locality of this Scene has been, in all editions
hitherto, A Public Place.  But it plainly passes before
the house of Antipholus; and though that was a public
place, so was any other part of the city. See the corresponding Note, Act II. Sc. 1.
p. 162.  "Mome... idiot, patch":-'Mome,' a word of
uncertain etymology, meant'a stupid fool':'patch,'




212           COMEDY OF ERRORS.   ACT III.
applied at first to a professed fool, from his party-colored
costume, (instances of which use of the word are frequent in these plays,) was also used as a term of contempt and reproach; as, for instance, in the old rhyme,
preserved by that eminent litteratrice to whom we owe
more than to any, or perhaps all, of her successors,
Mother Goose: -
"Cross patch, draw the latch,
Sit by the fire and spin."
p. 163.  "      thy name for a face ":- The folio has " an
asse," with two long s's. What Dromio could mean by
changing a name for an ass, would pose the Sphinx and
(Edipus. Both the sense and the rhyme justify the reading
in the text, which appeared in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
p. 164.      "If thy name be called Luce,
Luce, thou hast answered him well."
To understand Dromio of Syracuse's commendation of
the girl's retort to his brother's proverb, it is necessary to
remember that a pike was called a luce.
"     "I Do you hear, you minion," &c.: - Malone's conjecture, that a line had been lost here, which he rested only
upon the lack of a rhyme for " hope" at the end of this one,
is supported by the subsequent context. As the text
stands now, Luce's reply to Antipholus, Dromio of Syracuse's reply to her, and his brother's remark upon the
retort, are not only without point, but actually without
a subject. Theobald tried to help the matter by reading' I trow,' which supplies the rhyme by making a triplet;
and the same reading was found in Mr. Collier's folio of
1632; but the missing rhyme is the least of the trouble.
Should the Historie of Error ever come to light, what is
lost may possibly be found.
t       Let him knock till it ache ":  The original spells
this word ake.  Although the noun was pronounced' aitch,' the verb, whether singular or plural, seems to
have had the ch hard.
p. 165.  " It seems thou want'st breaking "  -In the original
we have " It seemes;" and although this was the common orthography of the time, it would appear from the
rhythm that the ancient dissyllabic pronunciation was
intended; else why was' wantest' contracted? So, in
the next line but one, we have " I when fowles" in the
original; a second syllable being equally desirable for the
rhythm. The aspect of the rhyming part of this Scene
is in all respects consistent with the supposition that it
was written before Shakespeare's day.




SC. II.                  NOTES.                          213
p. 165.  "-   of her wisdom":- The folio has "your wisdom," by a mistake so palpable as hardly to require notice, and which occurs more than once in this play; in
even the printed text of which, the use of the old abbreviations,  ye' for I the,' and' y' for' your,' and' yt'
for' that,' is remarkably common. Hence the easy mistake of' her,' the h having a bow below the line, for' yr'
p. 166.  "-    to the Porpentine":- This orthography uniformly occurs in the folio in this and all the other plays
in which the name of the animal is mentioned.  It
is not a different way of spelling' porcupine,' but a different word, or at least a different form of the word, and
therefore must not be disturbed. This decision is also
that of Mr. Dyce, who gives it, by quotation and argument, a support almost superfluous.
SCENE II.
p. 167.  "     grow so ruinous":-The folio has "ruinate,"
which the rhyme shows to be wrong. The correction is
Malone's. The folio has also "buildings" for "building."
"l    " - make us but believe "    The folio has " not."
p. 168.  "     to you I do decline ":-lean: used of old in
the sense of' incline.'
c "          as a bride I'll take thee": - The folio reads " as
a bud," &c.; a palpable misprint, this correction of which
is due to the happy conjecture of Mr. Howard Stanton.
It is fully sustained, and indeed required, by the last line
of the speech.
I"    " Not mad, but mated":- crazed, bewildered.'    " Gaze where you should ":- The folio misprints,
" when.."
p. 169.  "         for I aim thee ":- I seek thee: a common use
of  aim' in Shakespeare's day. The folio has "am."
The correction is by Steevens. Rowe read' mean.'
",  ~  and besides myself":-The unwarrantable custom of the day having made two words of' beside' and
besides,' which are one and the same in all respects, except a slight terminal corruption in the latter, it is proper
to point out that Dromio says he is' beside himself,' i. e.,' distracted;' the idea that he is another man than himself being conveyed by way of pun. There is no more
difference between' beside' and'besides' than between  a
little way' and its corruption,'a little ways;' and the
text should be changed to'beside,' were it not that so
doing would seem to recognize a distinction which does not




214             COMEDY OF ERRORS.  ACT IIL
exist, and destroy one of the best and most accessible
proofs that there is but one word, i. e.,' beside;'- the
s having been indifferently used or omitted in the orthography of the day when Shakespeare's plays were
written, and of that when the Bible was translated. So,
" he... is horne-mad, and talketh like a man besides
himself."  Holland's Translation of Livy.  " Paul, thou
art besides thyself." Acts xxvi. 24, editions of 1535, 1599,
and 1607.
p. 170.  " -     without he say sir reverence ":- Malone first
quoted Blount's Glossography, 1682, to show that' sir
reverence' was a vulgar corruption of' salva reverentia!'
It was; but that sense is not to the purpose, except in
the way of pun.  Dromio alludes to the filthy condition
of the "beastly creature," and makes use of the dirtiest
possible comparison: "for he hath wares that are not
worth a save reverence - nam  merces habet quce non
merdA valent."  Janua Linguarurn. 1640. Sig. B 3. And
see Grose's Vulgar Tongue.
It  A     ~  for why? she sweats, a man may go," &c.: -
That is,' she sweats so that a man may go,' &c. Mr.
Dyce would remove the interrogation mark and take
" for why she sweats" to mean' because she sweats.'
But this is entirely unnecessary.
f           "-     her name and three quarters ": - The folio has
" is," - a palpable misprint.
p. 171.  "  -   arm'd and revolted, making war against her
heir ":- An allusion to the war of the League against
Henry of Navarre, who became heir to the throne of
France in 1589.  See Introduction.  In the Variorum
edition are two pages of annotation upon the last word
of the passage, by Theobald, Johnson, and Malone. Johnson contends that Dromio alludes only to a certain stage
of that French disease, ("nomenque a gente recepit,")
gibes upon which seem to have been the standing joke of
the stage in Shakespeare's day. The folio has " arm'd
and reverted;" but although the latter word has been
silently retained in the text hitherto, it is plainly a misprint, and the easiest possible, for  revolted.' The former word was very rarely used in Shakespeare's day, and
then exclusively in its radical sense,' to return.' Minsheu does not even define it; but merely refers to' return.'
It could not be intended as a synonyme for' revolt;' and
any other sense is inadmissible, whether we read' heir'
or' hair.' Cotgrave, Florio, Cooper, Phillips, and Littleton, as well as Minsheu, all completely sustain this emendation by their definitions.




SC. II.                  NOTES.                          215
ACT FOURTH.
SCENE I.
p. 173.  "      and her confederates":-The folio has " their."
p. 174.  " -    to the utmost caract":- now spelled' carat:' a
weight of twelve grains.
" Perchance I will be there": —' I will,' instead of'I shall,' is a Scotticism, says English Douce: it is an
Irishism, says Scotch Reed: and an ancient Anglicism,
says Irish Malone.
p. 175.  " -   or send me by some token ": - This is the original text, and means' send some word by me which will
be a token to your wife that I come from you:' as, for
instance, in Marston's Dutch Courtesan, Act III. Sc1..: -," Mrs. Mulligrub.  By what token are you sent? -by
no token? Nay, I have wit.
" Cocledemoy. He sent me by the same token that he
was dry shaved this morning."
Yet I cannot but think that there has been a transposition, and that we should read,' send by me some token.'
A moment before Antipholus had said to Angelo, -
2,- with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof."
It is natural that the goldsmith should want the chain or
a voucher for it.
"      say whe'r you'll answer: - for' whether you'll
answer.'
p. 176.  " Enter DROMIO of Syracuse": - "from the bay," adds
the first folio.
I"    -      thou peevish sheep": -thou silly sheep.
~   " — ~to hire waftage ": - Here' hire' is a dissyllable: it is spelled " hier " in the, folio.
SCENE II.
t  77.  "Of his heart's meteors ": - The original has " Oh."
" i-    he deni'd you had in him no right ":- This is
a pure Greek construction.  See Note on " nor Nature
never lends," Measure for Measure, Act I. Sc. 1.
p. 178.  " -    sweet, now make haste ": -Mr. Collier's folio
has " swift."'    c"-   in an everlasting garment " - That is, as Dromio
says soon after, " all in buff," the uniform of serjeants,
which was very durable.




216           COMEDY OF ERRORS.   ACT IV.
p. 178.  "A  fiend, a fairy ":-So the original, which was
changed by Theobald and in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632
to'fury.' It is not improbable that'fury' was the author's word; but in Shakespeare's early days all fairies
were not necessarily supposed to be like Oberon and Titania or their attendants; there were fairies pitiless and
rough; and therefore the text must stand.
r     I "~ runs counter and yet draws dry foot":  Hunting cant. To'run counter' is to run the wrong way; to
draw dry foot,' to hunt by the scent of the foot.
"      --  carries poor souls to Hell":-' Hell' was a cant
word for  prison.'
t    "-      he's'rested on the case ":  The' action on the
case' was so called because it was brought upon the case
as described, for a wrong done without force, for the redress of which there was no particular form of procedure
provided by law. It is now, ipso nomine, obsolete.
p. 179.  " But is in a suit of buff ": - For' he is':- an elliptical mode of expression not uncommon of old. See Note
on "namely, is no tifne," Act II. Sc. 2.
" That he, unknown," &c.: -The folio has " Thus,"
which the second folio corrected.
/         "- ~if any hour meet a sergeant ":-To understand
Dromio's joke, it is necessary to remember that' hour'
and' whore' were both of old pronounced hoor, - the
word originally having been hure, Anglo-Saxon.
"If he be in debt":- The folio has "If I," which
Malone corrected. Rowe read,' If Time,' and is followed
by Mr. Dyce, who supposes'I' to be a misprint for' T.,'
used as an abbreviation for' Time.'
SCENE III.
p. 180.  " Some other give me thanks "  - This is not a misprint for' Some others.' The plural form i others' is of
comparatively recent introduction. The more common
expression in Shakespeare's day was' other some.'
"  " Wrhat have you got the picture of old Adam new
apparell'd":-The old Adam new apparelled was the
serjeant in buff leather, whom Dromio compares to Adam
in his dress of skins, or, perhaps, in his own buff; and Mr.
Collier says that' what have you got' is still a vulgar
phrase for' what have you done with.' The passage,
however, still seems awkward, and is perhaps corrupt.
Theobald read,' What, have you got rid of,' &c.
-/ --   gives them a stop":-The original has " sob,"




SC. IV.                 NOTES.                         217
a manifest misprint for the word in the text. In all
modern editions hitherto, except Mr. Collier's, who retains'sob,' it has been changed to'fob'! a word equally
devoid of any shade of meaning here. For how does an
officer give men a fob? and could giving a man afob rest
or arrest him? giving him a stop would do both.
p. 181.  "      a morris-pike"  - a Moorish pike; an ancient
weapon.
p. 182.  " -   expect spoonmeat and bespeak a long spoon": -
The folio misprints " or bespeak."
" Avoid, thou fiend": - The folio has " Avoid then,"
the easiest of all misprints from the similarity of o and e
in old MS., and of n and u in all MS.'Then' has no
relation. The correction was made in Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632. Mr. Dyce proposes'Avoid thee;' but while e
and o were almost identical in appearance, e and u were
very unlike. Just below Antipholus says, " Avaunt, thou
witch."
SCENE IV.
p. 184.  "      like the parrot," &c.: — It was the custom to
teath parrots to prophesy ill luck. Warburton makes the
following apt quotation from Hudibras, which refers to
Ralpho's skill in augury:c Could tell what subtlest parrots mean,
That speak and think contrary clean;
What member'tis of whom they talk,
When they cry Rope, and Walk, knave, walk."
p. 185.  " —    your customers ":- those to whose company
you are accustomed: of old, a common use of the word.
t     ", Perdy": - a corruption of'par Dieu.'
p. 186.  "-    my bones bear witness ":- The folio has "' bears."
See Note on " Were carried towards Corinth," Act I.
Sc. 1. These disagreements are so common in the old
text of this play that further notice of them is needless.
p. 187.  " Enter three or four," &c.: -This is the stage direction of the folio. The attempt is successful, as we see by
the text.
p. 188.  "Exeunt ADRIANA," &c.: -The folio has, "Run all
out," after Adriana's speech, and after the Officer's, "Ex.
eunt omnes, as fast as may be, frighted."
p. 189.  "-     fetch our stuff":- luggage, baggage.  "In
that day, he which shall be upon the house top, and his
stuff in the house, let him not come down to take it
away."  Luke xvii. 31.
N2




218            COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT V.
ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.
p. 190.  "-  thou know'st did hear thee ":- Capell read, to
complete the rhythm,' did hear thee, sir;' but if a word
be lost, which is not improbable, we should rather read,
"' These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee swear."
Editors generally make the line lamely out by reading,
"thou knowest."
"    "Some get within him " - his guard.
"     " [Exeunt... to the Abbey ":-The folio has " Priory."
p. 191.  "-  heavy, sour, sad":-Here and elsewhere'sour'
is a dissyllable. This use of it is a remnant of the more
ancient spelling and pronunciation sower, that being the
orthography in the original text.
"    "  the copy of our conference ": -that which was
constantly before us, the subject of our conference. Some
editors would have the word to be' co-pie,' from the Latin
copia, and used as Cooper uses it in his translation of
Cicero's phrase," copiose et abundanter loqui," -' to use
his words with great copie and abundance of eloquence.'
But this is needlessly going very far for very little.
II   c" I often glanced [at] it" -' At,' wanting in the
original, is supplied in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
p. 192.  " And at her heels":- Thus the folio. Heath suggested and Malone read " their heels," because of the disagreement in gender between "her" and "kinsman;"
but this is entirely inadmissible; for it is melancholy
alone at whose heels follows the infectious troop. Ritson
justly remarked that " kinsman means no more than near
relation;"  and Mr. Verplanck clearly solves whatever
difficulty there may be in the passage, by quoting the
following lines from  The Merchant of Venice, (Act III.
Sc. 2,) in which Portia calls herself"-     the lord
Of this fair manor, master o'er my servants,
Queen o'er myself."
Heath reads "moody moping and dull," &c.: Singer,," moody sadness and dull," &c.
p. 193. " -   a formal man":- a reasonable man. See Note
on "these poor, informal women," Measure for Measure,
Act V. Sc. 1.
"     " The place of death ":- The folio has " depth," which
Rowe corrected. Mr. Hunter would retain the original




sc. I.                    NOTES.                          219
word as meaning " the Barathrum, or deep pit into which
offenders were cast " 
p. 194.  " Who I made lord of me":-Thus the original, in
opposition, as Shakespeare and his contemporaries constantly were, to modern usage.
"         "-     your important letters":- for'importunate
letters.' The word is so used elsewhere in these plays.
p, 195.  " —   nicks him like a fool":- Malone quotes the following illustrative passage from Gent's Choice of Change,
1598.  "Three things used by monks which provoke other men to laugh at their follies: They are shaven and
notched on the head, like fooles," &c.
p. 196.  " While she with harlots feasted ": -   Harlot' at first
meant only a person hired.  Thus Chaucer uses it in the
Sompnoures Tale, 7336: —
" A stourdy harlot ay went hem byhynde
That was hir hostis man," &c.
But, like' villain,' which originally meant' a bondsman,'
it came to be used as a term of reproach, and, at first, to
men as well as women.  Its peculiar reproach, when applied to women, is strictly derived from the venality which
its radical sense implies. Every wanton is not necessarily a harlot in the original signification of the word. See
Note on' villain,' Act I. Sc. 2, and on' knave,' Othello.
Act I. Sc. 1.
p. 198.  "And this is false," &c.:- Mr. Dyce would read,
quite needlessly,
"I never saw the chain. So help me Heaven,
As this is false," &c.
p. 201.  "If I dream not," &c.: - In the original this speech,
and the next by the Abbess, are preceded by the first six
lines of the Duke's next speech: an error strangely left
to be corrected by Capell.
"     " These are the parents," &c.:-Malone supposed that
the preceding line had been lost. But JEgeon's morning
story and the consequent conviction flash on the Duke's
mind at once.
t         -     to these children":-' Children' is here in effect a trisyllable. The plural form was of old, and still
is in some places and among certain classes,' childer:' -
who has not heard it in the mouths of Irish emigrants?
See, also, in an account dated 1564, published in Halliwell's Life of Shakespeare, p. 47.-" Item, payd to
Alen for techyng the chylder, iiij li." To this succeeded, childeren,' en being the fine old Saxon plural form
which we are continually hissing ourselves for having laid




220           COMEDY OF ERRORS.    ACT V:
aside, except in a few honest, homely words like' oxen,''brethren,' &c. The trisyllabic use of the word is a relic
of this old plural.
p. 202.  "-   these errors all arose":-The folio has, are
arose; " but can there be a doubt that the reading of the
text, which, being of the obvious kind, occurred to several editors and was found in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632,
is correct?'    " Twenty-five years," &c.:- The original has "  hirtythree," which, as JEgeon says that he had parted from
his boy seven years before, when the latter was eighteen.
must be wrong.
" My heavy burthen here delivered ":-That is,' I
have gone in travail until this present hour delivered me
here of my heavy burthen.' The folio has " are delivered," with manifest error. Theobald and Mr. Knight
read,
" nor till this present hour
My heavy burthens are delivered:"
Mr. Collier,
I My heavy burden undelivered: "
Mr. Singer and Mr. Dyce,
" My heavy burden ne'er delivered:"
a writer in Blackwood's Magazine, August, 1853,
"' My heavy burden has delivered:"
but the reading of the text does less violence to the original than either of these, and gives what appears to me a
better, more natural expression of Emilia's idea.
p. 203.                              " and joy with me:
After so long grief such nativity."
The original has " and go with me," which Heath happily corrected by the substitution of the word in the text.
Mr. Singer reads " such festivity," which is a plausible
suggestion on account of the occurrence of  nativity' just
before. But a long travail and a happy birth is plainly
the dominant thought of Emilia's speech, and " a gossip's
feast" was a feast of those who assisted at a birth or came
in immediately after it.
" [Exeunt ANT. S. and E.," &c.: —The old stage direction is " Exeunt omnes. Mane[n]t the two Dromios and
two brothers." But from the last speech of Antipholus of
Syracuse, it is plain that he and his brother go out with
the other gentlefolk, and that the two bondsmen remain
behind.




MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
(221)




" Much adoe about Nothing. As it hath been sundrie times publikely acted by the right honourable, the Lord Chamberlaine his
seruants.  Written by William  Shakespeare. - LONDON Printed
by V. S. for Andrew Wise, and William Aspley. 1600."  4to.
36 leaves.
Much Ado about Nothing occupies twenty-one pages in the
folio of 1623, viz., from p. 101 to p. 121 inclusive, in the division of Comedies. It is there divided into Acts, but not into
Scenes, and is without a list of Dramatis Personae. In the
quarto there is no division into Acts.
(222)




MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
INTRODUCTION.
BANDELLO, an Italian novelist who died three years before
Shakespeare was born, furnished him with the incident
upon which this play hinges —the trick by which Borachio
slanders Hero to her lover. It is found also in Ariosto's Orlando
Furioso, Book V., and in Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book II.
Can. 4, an English translation of the former of which, by Sir
John Harington, was published in 1691. No translation of Bandello's novel is known; but if any reader of Shakespeare finds
it difficult to believe that such a man, at the age of thirty-five
years, - fifteen of which he had passed in literary pursuits, at a
time when Italian was more commonly known to educated Englishmen than French is now, -had mastered enough of that
language to be able to read a short tale in it, I must confess myself but ill disposed to help him out of the further perplexity in
which he will be involved by the knowledge, that, while in
neither Ariosto's nor Spenser's version of the story is there the
slightest coincidence with Much Ado about Nothing in name of
person or place, in Bandello's, the friend and patron of the lover
is Don Pedro of Arragon, the father of the lady, Lionato, and the
scene, Messina, and that in Bandello alone are found the incidents of the entrance of the repudiated lady's window by a
servant of her calumniator, her swooning and pretended death,
the promise to her father to marry at his bidding, and her subsequent restoration to her repentant lover. The Italian's contribution to the play is limited to these few bare names and
almost barren incidents; for Benedick and Beatrice, Dogberry
and Verges, John the Bastard, and even Conrade, Borachio and
Margaret, and all that they do and say else, are Shakespeare's
own. Not only so, but the four first-named characters, being
(223)




224  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
purely English, and giving the tone to the composition, make
Much Ado about Nothing a comedy of contemporary English
manners.
We are able to determine the date of the production of this
play with accuracy quite sufficient to all the purposes for which
exactness in such matters is valuable. It was published in 16)0;
England's Parnassus, which appeared also in that year, contains no quotation from it; and Meres, who could not have
passed it unnoticed, when he did notice The Comedy of Errors
and The Two Gentlemen of Verona, does not mention it in his
citation, so often referred to, which was published in 1598.
We may therefore conclude that Much Ado about Nothing was
written in 1598 or 1599. There is no internal evidence upon
this point; for Chalmers' conjecture, that when Beatrice says,
" you had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it," an allusion is meant to an infirmity in the English commissariat of
that day, which, from recent Crimean experience, seems chronic,
rests on a foundation entirely too slender and fanciful.
The text of the folio is printed with comparatively few and
trifling errors, most of which are easy of correction, either by conjecture or by the aid of the quarto, which is also remarkably
well printed for a dramatic publication of the period. Each
copy contains a few words and brief sentences omitted from the
other.  It is plain from  the repetition of certain somewhat
striking errors of the press, which are particularly indicated in
the Notes, that the folio was printed from a copy of the quarto
edition; and this fact has caused most editors to adhere to the
text of the latter, as " the more ancient authority," Mr. Collier
giving, as an additional reason, his opinion that " the changes
from the 4to in the folio are nearly all for the worse." As to
its being the earlier printed edition, this fact has, evidently, no
weight in deciding between the authority of an edition which
is authenticated and that of one which is not; and not only is this
truth applicable in the present instance, but we know that the
copy of the quarto from which the authenticated folio was printed had been used in Shakespeare's theatre as the prompter's book,
and there subjected to several alterations and corrections; and
thus its essential differences from the quarto have a special and
peculiar demand upon our deference. The important errors (to
a reader) of the quarto which the folio leaves uncorrected are of
such a nature that they might remain without inconvenience




INTRODUCTION.                        225
upon a prompter's book; —such are the printing of verse as
prose and the use of the names of actors, instead of those of
characters, as prefixes. The various differences of text bearing upon this point are all considered in the Notes.
As to preference between the readings of the two editions,
that is mere matter of opinion; and fortunately the cases in
which such preference may be exercised- not by any means
admitting that it should be - are of comparatively little moment.  But I am  surprised that any reader of Shakespeare
should consider, for instance, the change of " any man that
knows the statutes," in the quarto, to " any man that knows the
statues," in the folio, for the worse, or think the same of the
change from " beat " in the quarto to " bear," in the lines,
"        a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes,"
in the folio: - the difference between a vision of angelic whitewinged innocence bearing away, all shameful, the blushes of the
shrinking girl, and a vision of the same impersonated virtue
violently beating them off, being one about the propriety or the
beauty of which there would seem to be no room for discussion.
The significant change in Dogberry's speech, Act III. Sc. 5, from
"examination," in the quarto, to " examine," in the folio, is
remarked upon at length in the Notes: its character admits no
doubt that it was made'by authority.'
The readings of the folio, in all important variations, seem
to me much preferable to those of the quarto; but the former
is followed in this edition, with assistance from the latter in
cases of apparent misprint only, not for that reason, but because
the folio was printed, - and carefully printed for the day, even as
to punctuation, contracted syllables, and capital letters, - from a
copy which had evidently had the benefit of at least a partial
correction, and because it has the authority of Heminge and
Condell, Shakespeare's fellow-actors.
As to the period of the action and the costume of Much Ado
about Nothing, the former is not determinable within narrow
bounds; and it is of no consequence that it should be; for the
list of dramatis personae is of the composite sort, and the exteriors which the characters present must of necessity be those of
different times and nations. A Sicilian costume of any period
anterior to the writing of the comedy, and during which the
island was under the dominion of Spain and involved in war,
VOL. III.                O




226  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
is appropriate to the personages of higher rank; and we must
look to the England of Shakespeare's day to furnish dresses for
Dogberry the Constable, Verges the Headborough, the Sexton,
and the Watch. Vecelli is authority for the former, and a woodcut on the title page of Dekker's O per se 0, 1612, for the Watch
among the latter.
We call this play Much Ado about Nothing; but it seems clear
to me that Shakespeare and his contemporaries called it Much
Ado about Noting; a pun being intended between'nothing'
and' noting,' which were then pronounced alike, and upon
which pun depends by far the more important significance of the
title. This is not the place for minute orthoepical discussion;
but that accented vowels had their pure and simple sound in a very
much greater degree in Shakespeare's time than now, and that
this was preserved in compound words, no sufficiently observant
person, familiar with the literature of that time, can have failed
to notice. Upon this fact depends, for instance, the Host's joke
in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III. Sc. 1, "he gives me the
proverbs and the no-verbs; " - and I remark here that the pronunciation'pro-verb' still lingers in New England. Shakespeare's contemporary John Florio tells us, in his Rules for the
Italian Tongue appended to his Dictionary, that the " round or
firm " Italian o " is ever pronounced as our o in these wordes:
Bone, Dog, Flow, God, Rod, Stone, Tone;" by which we see
that three words of the seven have lost the pure sound of o.
This is rather less than the proportion of those which have undergone a similar change throughout the language. But a
joke of Touchstone's is quite decisive upon the point that the
combination o t h was sometimes, at least, pronounced ote.
He says, (As You Like It, Act III. Sc. 3,) "I am here with thee
and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was
among the Goths; " and if the pronunciation of'Goths' was
not'gotes,' he might as well have said'among the Vandals.'
To this add another example, even more conclusive - the spelling, in the original, of' mote' in the following line, (Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV. Sc. 3,) and in every other instance in which
the word is used in that volume, although it was pronounced
mote, and had been so spelled in earlier days: -
" You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see."
In this very play, too, is another passage especially in point,that in which (Act II. Sc. 3) Balthazar uses the words'note,'




INTRODUCTION.                        227, notes,' and' noting,' and Don Pedro replies, " Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing." Here, if' nothing' were pronounced nothing, the Prince might as well have said' any thing;' but both
quarto and folio give him his pun as well as his jeer. Theobald,
failing to perceive this, changed'nothing' to'noting;' and so
the passage remained until the present day. In the great Roman tragedy, too, of the Triumvir and the Egyptian Queen, the
original has either Anthonie, Anthony, or even Anthonius, although the man was called then, as now, Mark Antony. So
Antonio of The Tempest is Anthonio in the original, and Armado
in Love's Labour's Lost is generally Armatho; and a common word
which occurs in this play,  lantern,' (so written originally and
always so pronounced,) was in Shakespeare's day, and until recently, spelled lanthorn; and the last syllable of  murder,' then
written murther, seems to have been pronounced somewhat like
the same syllable of the French meurtre.
But as to the significance of the title. The play is Much
Ado about Nothing only in a very vague and general sense, but
Much Ado about Noting in one especially apt and descriptive; for
the much ado is produced entirely by noting. It begins with
the noting of the Prince and Claudio, first by Antonio's man, and
then by Borachio, who reveals their conference to John; it
goes on with Benedick noting the Prince, Leonato, and Claudio
in the garden, and again with Beatrice noting Margaret and
Ursula in the same place; the incident upon which its action
turns is the noting of Borachio's interview with Margaret by
the Prince and Claudio; and finally, the incident which unravels
the plot is the noting of Borachio and Conrade by the Watch.
That this sense,'to observe,''to watch,' was one in which'note' was commonly used, it is quite needless to show by reference to the literature and the lexicographers of Shakespeare's
day; it is hardly obsolete; and even of the many instances in
Shakespeare's works, I will quote only one, from As You Like It,
Act III. Sc. 2, which happens to be in all points corrrespondent.
" Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES.]  Celia. You bring me out: —
Soft! comes he not here? Ros.'Tis he!  Slink by and note
hIim." Upon the other point let these lines of Shakespeare's
speak: —
" Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing."
Sonnet XX.




DRAMATIS PERSONiE.
DON PEDRO, Prince of Arragon.
JOHN, his bastard Brother.
CLAUDIO, a young Lord of Florence.
BENEDICK, a young Lord of Padua.
LEONATO, Governor of Messina.
ANTONIO, his Brother.
BALTHAZAR, Servant to Don Pedro.
BORACHIO, } followers of John.
CONRADE, 
VDOGERRY,  two Officers.
VERGES,  I
Friar FRANCIS.
A Sexton.
A Boy.
HERO, Daughter to Leonato.
BEATRICE, Niece to Leonato.
ARGARET,,  Gentlewomen attending on Hero.
Messengers, Watchmen, and Attendants.
SCENE: Messina.
(228)




MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
ACT I.
SCENE I.- Before LEONATO's House.
Enter LEONATO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others, with
a Messenger.
LEONA TO.
I  LEARN in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.
Messenger.  He is very near by this: he was not
three leagues off when I left him.
Leon.  How many gentlemen have you lost in this
action?
Mess.  But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon.  A victory is twice itself, when the achiever
brings home full numbers.  I find here, that Don
Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio.
Mess.  Much deserv'd on his part, and equally
remembered by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself
beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure
of a lamb the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, bet229)




230                MUCH ADO                 ACT I.
ter better'd expectation than you must expect of
me to tell you how.
Leon.  He hath an uncle here in Messina will be
very much glad of it.
Mess.  I have already delivered him  letters, and
there appears much joy in him; even so much, that
joy could not show itself modest enough without a
badge of bitterness.
Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Mess. In great measure.
Leon.  A kind overflow of kindness. There are
no faces truer than those that are so wash'd: how
much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at
weeping?
Beatrice.  I pray you, is Signior Montanto return'd from the wars, or no?
Mess.  I know none of that name, lady: there was
none such in the army of any sort.
Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Mess. O! he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he
was.
Beat.  He set up his bills here in Messina, and
challeng'd Cupid at the flight; and my uncle's Fool,
reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the bird-bolt. - I pray you, how many
hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how
many hath he kill'd? for, indeed, I promis'd to eat
all of his killing.
Leon.'Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick
too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it
not.
Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these
wars.
Beat.  You had musty victual, and he hath holp




sc. I.         ABOUT NOTHING.                   231
to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath
an excellent stomach.
Mess.  And a good soldier too, lady.
Beat.  And a good soldier to a lady; but what
is he to a lord?
Mess.  A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd
with all honourable virtues.
Beat.  It is so, indeed: he is no less than a stuff'd
man; but for the stuffing,- Well, we are all mortal.
Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There
is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and
her: they never meet, but there's a skirmish of wit
between them.
Beat.  Alas! he gets nothing by that.  In our last
conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and
now is the whole man govern'd with one; so that if
he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him
bear it for a difference between himself and his horse;
for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known
a reasonable creature. - Who is his companion now?
He hath every month a new sworn brother.
Mess.  Is't possible?
Beat.  Very easily possible: he wears his faith but
as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the
next block.
Mess.  I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your
books.
Beat.  No; an he were, I would burn my study.
But, I pray you, who is his companion?  Is there
no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with
him to the Devil?
3Mess.  He is most in the company of the right
noble Claudio.
Beat.  0 Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and




232               MUCH  ADO                 ACT I.
the taker runs presently mad.  God help the noble
Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost
him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd.
Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
Beat.  Do, good friend.
Leon. You'll ne'er run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
Enter Don PEDRO, JOHN the Bastard, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHAZAR, and others.
Don Pedro.  Good Signior Leonato, you are come
to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to
avoid cost, and you encounter it.
Leon.  Never came trouble to my house in the
likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me,
sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.
D. Pedro.  You embrace your charge too willingly.
I think this is your daughter.
Leon.  Her mother hath many times told me so.
Benedick. Were you in doubt, that you ask'd her?
Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a
child.
D. Pedro.  You have it full, Benedick; we may
guess by this what you are, being a man.- Truly,
the lady fathers herself. -Be happy, lady, for you
are like an honourable father.
Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would
not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina,
as like him as she is.
Beat.  I wonder that you will still be talking,
Signior Benedick: no body marks you.
Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet
living?




sc. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   233
Beat. Is it possible disdain should die, while she
hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come
in her presence.
Bene.  Then is courtesy a turn-coat.  But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and
I would I could find in my heart that I had not a
hard heart, for, truly, I love none.
Beat.  A dear happiness to women: they would
else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I
thank God, and my cold blood, I am of your humour
for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow
than a man swear he loves me.
Bene.  God keep your ladyship still in that mind;
so some gentleman or other shall'scape a predestinate
scratch'd face.
Beat.  Scratching could not make it worse, an'twere such a face as yours were.
Bene.  Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beat.  A bird of my tongue is better than a beast
of yours.
Bene.  I would my horse had the speed of your
tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way
o' God's name; I have done.
Beat. You always end with a jade's trick; I know
you of old.
D. Pedro.  This is the sum of all. — Leonato, 
Signior Claudio, and  Signior Benedick-my dear
friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we
shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer: I
dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from  his
heart.
Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
forsworn.- Let me bid you welcome, my lord: be02




234               MUCH ADO                  ACT T.
ing reconciled to the Prince, your brother, I owe you
all duty.
John.  I thank you: I am not of many words, but
I thank you.
Leon.  Please it your Grace lead on?
D. Pedro.  Your hand, Leonato: we will go together.    [Exeunt all but BENEDICK and CLAUDIO.
Claudio. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter
of Signior Leonato?
Bene.  I noted her not; but I look'd on her.
Claud. Is she not a modest young lady?
Bene.  Do you question me, as an honest man
should do, for my simple true judgment; or would
you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?
Claud. No; I pray thee speak in sober judgment.
Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks she's too low for a
high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can
afford her; that were she other than she is, she were
unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do
not like her.
Claud.  Thou think'st I am in sport: I pray thee,
tell me truly how thou lik'st her.
Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after
her?
Claud.  Can the world buy such a jewel?
Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak
you this with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and
Vulcan a rare carpenter?  Come, in what key shall
a man take you, to go in the song?
Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that
ever I look'd on.
Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see




sc. I.         ABOUT NOTHING.                   235
no such matter: there's her cousin, an she were not
possess'd with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty
as the first of May doth the last of December. But
I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have
you?
Claud.  I would scarce trust myself, though I had
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
Bene.  Is't come to this, i' faith?  Hath not the
world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion?  Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore
again?  Go to, i' faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy
neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away
Sundays.  Look; Don Pedro is returned to seek you.
Enter Don PEDRO.
D. Pedro.  What secret hath held you here, that
you followed not to Leonato's?
Bene.  I would your Grace would constrain me to
tell.
D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.
Bene.  You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret
as a dumb man, I would have you think so; but on
my allegiance, -mark you this, on my allegiance. 
He is in love. With who? -  now  that is your
Grace's part. - Mark, how short his answer is:with Hero, Leonato's short daughter.
Claud. If this were so, so were it utter'd.
Bene.  Like the old tale, my lord: " It is not so,
nor'twas not so: but, indeed, God forbid it should
be so."
Claud.  If my passion change not shortly, God
forbid it should be otherwise.
D. Pedro.  Amen, if you love her; for the lady
is very well worthy.
Claud.  You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.




236                MUCH ADO                 ACT I.
D. Pedro.  By my troth, I speak my thought.
Claud. And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
Bene.  And by my two faiths and troths, my lord,
I speak mine.
Claud.  That I love her, I feel.
D. Pedro.  That she is worthy, I know.
Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved,
nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion
that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at
the stake.
D. Pedro.  Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in
the despite of beauty.
Claud. And never could maintain his part, but in
the force of his will.
Bene.  That a woman conceived me, I thank her;
that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have a recheat winded in
my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not
do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, (for the
which I may go the finer,) I will live a bachelor.
D. Pedro.  I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale
with love.
Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger,
my lord; not with love: prove that ever I lose more
blood with love than I will get again with drinking,
pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and
hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the
sign of blind Cupid.
D. Pedro.  Well, if ever thou dost fall from this
faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.
Bene.  If I do, hang me in a bottle, like a cat, and
shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapp'd
on the shoulder and call'd Adam.




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   237
D. Pedro.  Well, as time shall try:
"In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke."
Bene.  The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and
set them in my forehead; and let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write,' Here is
good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign,'Here you may see Benedick the married man.'
Claud.  If this should ever happen, thou would'st
be horn-mad.
D. Pedro.  Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his
quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
Bene. I look for an earthquake too, then.
D. Pedro. VWell, you will temporize with the hours.
In the mean time, good Signior Benedick, repair to
Leonato's: commend me to him, and tell him I will
not fail him at supper; for, indeed, he hath made
great preparation.
Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such
an embassage; and so I commit you -
Claud.  To the tuition of God: from my house (if
I had it)D. Pedro.  The sixth of July: your loving friend,
Benedick.
Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of
your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments,
and the guards are but slightly basted on, neither:
ere you flout old ends any farther, examine your conscience; and so I leave you.     [Exit BENEDICK.
Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me
good.
D. Pedro.  My love is thine to teach: teach it
but how,
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.




238               MUCH ADO                  ACT I.
Claud.  Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
D. Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
Claud.! my lord,
When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love;
But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to wars —
D. Pedro.  Thou wilt be like a lover presently,
And tire the hearer with a book of words.
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it,
And I will break with her, [and with her father,
And thou shalt have her.]  Was't not to this end,
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story?
Claud.  How sweetly do you minister to love,
That know love's grief by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.
D. Pedro.  What need the bridge much broader
than the flood?
The fairest grant is the necessity.
Look, what will serve is fit:'tis once, thou lovest;
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling to-night:
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio;
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart,
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale:
Then, after, to her father will I break;




so. Il.       ABOUT NOTHING.                 239
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
In practice let us put it presently.     [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Room in LEONATO'S House.
Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO.
Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin,
your son? Hath he provided this music?
Antonio. He is very busy about it. But, brother,
I can tell you news that you yet dreamt not of.
Leon. Are they good?
Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have
a good cover; they show well outward. The Prince
and Count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley
in my orchard, were thus overheard by a man of
mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved
my niece, your daughter, and meant to acknowledge
it this night in a dance; and, if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the
top, and instantly break with you of it.
Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this?
Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him,
and question him yourself.
Leon. No, no: we will hold it as a dream, till
it appear itself; but I will acquaint my daughter
withal, that she may be the better prepared for an
answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you, and
tell her of it.  [Several persons cross the stage.]
Cousins, you know what you have to do. - 0, I cry
you mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use
your skill. -Good cousin, have a care this busy time.
[Exeunt.




240               MUCH ADO                  ACT I.
SCENE III.
Another Room in LEONATO'S House.
Enter JOHN the Bastard and CONRADE.
Conrade.  What the good year, my lord! why are
you thus out of measure sad?
John.  There is no measure in the occasion that
breeds [it], therefore the sadness is without limit.
Con. You should hear reason.
John.  And when I have heard it, what blessing
brings it?
Con.  If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance.
John.  I wonder, that thou being (as thou say'st
thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to apply a
moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot
hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause,
and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am
drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when
I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.
Con. Yea; but you must not make the full show
of this till you may do it without controlment. You
have of late stood out against your brother, and he
hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is
impossible you should take root but by the fair
weather that you make yourself: it is needful that
you frame the season for your own harvest.
John.  I had rather be a canker in a hedge than
a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to
be disdain'd of all than to fashion a carriage to rob
love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to
be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied




SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                  241
but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with
a muzzle, and enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I
have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my
mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would
do my liking: in the mean time, let me be that I
am, and seek not to alter me.
Con.  Can you make no use of your discontent?
John. I will make all use of it, for I use it only.
Who comes here? What news, Borachio?
Enter BORACHIO.
Borachio. I came yonder from a great supper: the
Prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended
marriage.
John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he, for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness?
Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand.
John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?
Bora. Even he.
John.  A proper squire! And who, [and who]?
which way looks he?
Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of
Leonato.
John. A very forward March-chick! How came
you to this?
Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was
smoking a musty room, comes me the Prince and
Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference: I whipp'd
behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon, that
the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having
obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio.
John. Come, come; let us thither: this may prove
food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all
VOL. III.        P




242               MUCH ADO                ACT II.
the glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any
way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure,
and will assist me?
Con. To the death, my lord.
John. Let us to the great supper: their cheer is
the greater, that I am subdued.'Would the cook
were of my mind - Shall we go prove what's to be
done?
Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship.  [Exeunt.
ACT  II.
SCENE I.  A Hall in LEONATO's House.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and
others.
LEONATO.
W    ASAS not Count John here at supper?
Ant. I saw him not.
Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never
can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an hour after.
Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made
just in the mid-way between him and Benedick: the
one is too like an image, and says nothing; and the
other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling.
Leon. Then, half Signior Benedick's tongue in
Count John's mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face, -
Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle,




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   243
and money enough in his purse, such a man would
win any woman in the world, -if he could get her
good will.
Leon.  By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee
a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Ant. In faith, she's too curst.
Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen
God's sending that way, for it is said,'God sends
a curst cow short horns;' but to a cow too curst he
sends none.
Leon.  So, by being too curst, God will send you
no horns?
Beat.  Just, if he send me no husband; for the
which blessing, I am  at him  upon my knees every
morning and evening.  Lord! I could not endure a
husband with a beard on his face: I had rather lie
in the woollen.
Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no
beard.
Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in
my apparel, and make him my waiting gentlewoman?
He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he
that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that
is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is
less than a man I am not for him; therefore I will
even take sixpence in earnest of the be'r-'ard, and
lead his apes into Hell.
Leon. Well then, go you into Hell?
Beat.  No; but to the gate; and there will the
Devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on
his head, and say,' Get you to Heaven, Beatrice, get
you to Heaven; here's no place for you maids:' so,
deliver I up my apes, and away to St. Peter for the
Heavens: he shows me where the bachelors sit; and
there live we as merry as the day is long.




244                MUCH  ADO                  ACT II
Ant.  Well, niece, [to HERO,] I trust, you will
be rul'd by your father.
Beat..  Yes,'faith; it is my cousin's duty to make
courtesy, and say,'Father, as it please you:' but
yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and say,' Father, as it please me.'
Leon.  Well, niece, I hope to see you one day
fitted with a husband.
Beat.  Not till God make men of some other metal
than earth.  Would it not grieve a woman to be
over-master'd with a piece of valiant dust? to make
an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl?
No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren;
and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.
Leon.  Daughter, remember what I told you: if
the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know
your answer.
Beat.  The fault will be in the music, cousin, if
you be not woo'd in good time: if the Prince be
too important, tell him, there is measure in every
thing, and so dance out the answer: for, hear me,
Hero; wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch
jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is
hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly, modest, as a measure
full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.
Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat. I have a good eye, uncle: I can see a church
by day-light.
Leon.  The revellers are entering, brother.  Make
good room!




sc. 1.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  245
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHAZAR; JOHN, BORACHIG, MARGARET, URSULA, and
Maskers.
D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your
friend?
Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and
say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and, especially, when I walk away.
D. Pedro. With me in your company?
Hero. I may say so, when I please.
D. Pedro. And when please you to say so?
Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend,
the lute should be like the case!
D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within
the house is Jove.
Hero. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.
D. Pedro.          Speak low, if you speak love.
[Takes her aside.
Balthazar. Well, I would you did like me.
Margaret.  So would not I, for your own sake;
for I have many ill qualities.
Balth. Which is one?
]Marg. I say my prayers aloud.
Balth. I love you the better; the hearers may cry
Amen.
Marg. God match me with a good dancer!
Balth. Amen.
Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, when
the dance is done! — Answer, clerk.
Balth. No more words: the clerk is answered.
[ They part.
Ursula. I know you well enough: you are Signior
Antonio.
Ant. At a word, I am not.




246              MUCH ADO                ACT II.
Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.
Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless
you were the very man. Here's his dry hand up
and down: you are he, you are he.
Ant. At a word, I am not.
Urs.  Come, come: do you think I do not know
you by your excellent wit?  Can virtue hide itself?
Go to, mum, you are he: graces will appear, and
there's an end.                   [They pass on.
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me.
Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bene. Not now.
Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my
good wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales. - Well,
this was Signior Benedick that said so.
Bene. What's he?
Beat.  I am sure, you know him well enough.
Bene. Not I, believe me.
Beat.  Did he never make you laugh?
Bene. I pray you, what is he?
Beat.  Why, he is the Prince's Jester: a very dull
fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders:
none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy; for he
both pleases men and angers them, and then they
laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the
fleet; I would he had boarded me!
Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him
what you say.
Beat. Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or
two on me; which, peradventure, not mark'd, or not
laugh'd at, strikes him into melancholy; and then
there's a partridge' wing saved, for the fool will eat




SC. I.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  241
no supper that night.  [Music within.]  We must
follow the leaders.
Bene. In every good thing.
Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave
them at the next turning.
[Dance.  Then, exeunt all but JOHN,.BoRACHIO, and CLAUDIO.
John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and
hath withdrawn her father to break with him about
it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.
Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his
bearing.
John. Are not you Signior Benedick?
Claud. You know me well: I am he.
John. Signior, you are very near my brother in
his love: he is enamour'd on Hero.  I pray you,
dissuade him from her; she is no equal for his birth:
you may do the part of an honest man in it.
Claud. How know you he loves her?
John. I heard him swear his affection.
Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry
her to-night.
John. Come, let us to the banquet.
[Exeunt JOHN and BORACHIO.
Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.'Tis certain so: -the Prince woos for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues:
Let every eye negotiate for itself,
And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero!




248              MUCH ADO                 ACT II
Enter BENEDICK.
Bene. Count Claudio?
Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own
business, Count. What fashion will you wear the
garland of? About your neck, like an usurer's chain,
or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf?  You
must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your
Hero.
Claud. I wish him joy of her.
Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover:
so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the Prince
would have served you thus?
Claud. I pray you, leave me.
Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man:'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat
the post.
Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you.  [Exit.
Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! Now will he creep
into sedges. -But, that my Lady Beatrice should
know me, and not know me! The Prince's Fool!
Ha! it may be, I go under that title, because I
am merry. - Yea; but so I am apt to do myself
wrong: I am not so reputed: it is the base, though
bitter, disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world
into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be
revenged as I may.
Enter Don PEDRO, HERO, and LEONATO.
D. Pedro. Now, Signior, where's the Count? Did
you see him?
Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   249
Lady Fame.  I found him  here as melancholy as a
lodge in a warren: I told him, and, I think, [I] told
him  true, that your Grace had got the [good] will
of this young lady; and I offered him my company
to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as
being forsaken, or to bind him [up] a rod, as being
worthy to be whipp'd.
D. Pedro.  To be whipp'd! What's his fault?
Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who,
being overjoy'd with finding a bird's nest, shows it
his companion, and he steals it.
D. Pedro.  Wilt thou make a trust a transgression?  The transgression is in the stealer.
Bene.  Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been
made, and the garland too; for the garland he might
have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestow'd on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his
bird's nest.
D. Pedro.  I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.
Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my
faith, you say honestly.
D. Pedro.  The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to
you: the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her
she is much wrong'd by you.
Bene.  0! she misus'd me past the endurance of
a block: an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would
have answered her: my very visor began to assume
life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking
I had been myself, that I was the Prince's Jester,
and that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling
jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance,
upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, with a
whole army shooting at me.  She speaks poiniards,
and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible
p2




250               MUCH ADO                 ACT II.
as her terminations, there were no living near her;
she would infect to the North Star. I would not
marry her, though she were endowed with all that
Adam had left him before he transgress'd: she would
have made Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have
cleft his club to make the fire, too. Come, talk not
of her; you shall find her the infernal Ate in good
apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while she is here, a man may
live as quiet in Hell, as in a sanctuary; and people
sin upon purpose, because they would go thither: so,
indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow
her.
Enter CLATVDIO and BEATRICE.
D. Pedro.  Look, here she comes.
Bene. Will your Grace command me any service
to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand
now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send
me on: I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the
farthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's
beard; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy.
You have no employment for me?
D. Pedro.  None, but to desire your good company.
Bene.  0 God, sir, here's a dish I love not: I cannot endure this Lady Tongue.                [Exit.
D. Pedro.  Come, lady, come; you have lost the
heart of Signior Benedick.
Beat.  Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and
I gave him use for it - a double heart for his single one: marry, once before he won it of me with
false dice; therefore your Grace may well say I have
lost it.




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   251
D. Pedro.  You have put him  down, lady; you
have put him down.
Beat.  So I would not he should do me, my lord,
lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have
brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
D. Pedro.  Why, how now, Count? wherefore are
you sad?
Claud.  Not sad, my lord.
D. Pedro.  How then?  Sick?
Claud.  Neither, my lord.
Beat.  The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor
merry, nor well; but civil, Count, civil as an orange,
and something of a jealous complexion.
D. Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to
be true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy
name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her
father, and his good will obtained: name the day of
marriage, and God give thee joy!
Leon.  Count, take of me my daughter, and, with
her, my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match,
and all grace say Amen to it!
Beat.  Speak, Count,'tis your cue.
Claud.  Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I
were but little happy, if I could say how much. -
Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away
myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.
Beat.  Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his
mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither.
D. Pedro.  In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps
on the windy side of care. - My cousin tells him in
his ear, that he is in her heart.
Claud.  And so she doth, cousin.
Beat.  Good Lord, for alliance! - thus goes every




252               MUCH ADO                 ACT II.
one to the world but I; and I am sun-burn'd: I may
sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho! for a husband.
D. Pedro.  Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
Beat.  I would rather have one of your father's
getting. Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you?
Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could
come by them.
D. Pedro.  Will you have me, lady?
Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another
for working-days: your Grace is too costly to wear
every day.- But, I beseech your Grace, pardon me;
I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
D. Pedro.  Your silence most offends me, and to
be merry best becomes you; for, out of question,
you were born in a merry hour.
Beat.  No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but
then there was a star danc'd, and under that was I
born. - Cousins, God give you joy!
Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told
you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. - By your Grace's
pardon.                          [Exit BEATRICE.
D. Pedro.  By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon.  There's little of the melancholy element in
her, my lord: she is never sad, but when she sleeps;
and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dream'd of unhappiness, and
wak'd herself with laughing.
D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a
husband.
Leon.! by no means, she mocks all her wooers out of suit.
D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon.  0 Lord! my lord, if they were but a week
married, they would talk themselves mad.




SC. I.         ABOUT NOTHING.                   253
D. Pedro.  Count Claudio, when mean you to go
to church?
Claud. To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches,
till Love have all his rites.
Leon.  Not till Monday, my dear son, which is
hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief, too,
to have all things answer [my] mind.
D. Pedro.  Come, you shake the head at so long
a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time
shall not go dully by us.  I will, in the interim,
undertake one of Hercules' labours, which is, to bring
Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, th' one with th' other. I would fain
have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it,
if you three will but minister such assistance as I
shall give you direction.
Leon.  My lord, I am for you, though it cost me
ten nights' watchings.
Claud.  And I, my lord.
D. Pedro.  And you too, gentle Hero?
Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help
my cousin to a good husband.
D. Pedro.  And Benedick is not the unhopefullest
husband that I know.  Thus far can I praise him:
he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirm'd honesty.  I will teach you how to humour
your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; -and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit
and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice.  If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an
archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only
love-gods.  Go in with me, and I will tell you my
drift.                                     [Exeunt.




254              MUCH ADO                ACT II,
SCENE II.
Another Room in LEONATO'S House.
Enter JOHN the Bastard, and BORACHIO.
John. It is so: the Count Claudio shall marry the
daughter of Leonato.
Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be
medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him,
and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges
evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?
Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that
no dishonesty shall appear in me.
John. Show me, briefly, how.
Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since,
how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.
John. I remember.
Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the
night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamberwindow.
John, What life is in that to be the death of this
marriage?
Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper.
Go you to the Prince, your brother: spare not to tell
him that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the
renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you mightily
hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
John. What proof shall I make of that?
Bora. Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you
for any other issue?




SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                   255
John.  Only to despite them I will endeavour any
thing.
Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw
Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: tell them
that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind
of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, (as in love
of your brother's honour, who hath made this match,
and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be
cozen'd with the semblance of a maid,) that you have
discover'd thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances, which shall bear no
less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window,
hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me
Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night
before the intended wedding: for in the mean time
I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appear such seeming truth of
her disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance,
and all the preparation overthrown.
John.  Grow this to what adverse issue it can, 1
will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working
this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.
Bora.  Be you constant in the accusation, and my
cunning shall not shame me.
John.  I will presently go learn their day of marriage.                                    [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
LEONATO's Garden.
Enter BENEDICK, a Boy following.
Bene. Boy!
Boy.  Signior.
Bene.  In my chamber-window lies a book; bring
it hither to me in the orchard.




256               MUCH ADO                 ACT II.
Boy.  I am here already, sir.
Bene. I know that; [Exit Boy.] but I would have
thee hence, and here again. I do much wonder, that
one man, seeing how much another man is a fool
when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after
he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling in love;
and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there
was no music with him but the drum and the fife;
and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe:
I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile
afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten
nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet.
He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like
an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turn'd
orthographer: his words are a very fantastical banquet  just so many strange dishes.  May I be so
converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell;
I think not: I will not be sworn but Love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it,
till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never
make me such a fool.  One woman is fair, yet I am
well: another is wise, yet I am well: another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one
woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich
she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never
look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or
not I, for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent
musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it
please God. Ha! the Prince and Monsieur Love! I
will hide me in the arbour.           [Withdraws.
Enter Don PEDRO, LEONATO, CLAUDIO, and BALTHAZAR.
D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music?




SC. IIr.      ABOUT NOTHING.                    257
Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is!
As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony.
D. Pedro.  See you where Benedick hath hid him
self?
Claud.  0, very well, my lord: the music ended
We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.
D. Pedro.  Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song
again.
Balth.  O! good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
D. Pedro.  It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection. —
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
Balth.  Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos;
Yet will he swear he loves.
D. Pedro.                  Nay, pray thee, come:
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Balth.        Note this before my notes;
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
D. Pedro.  Why, these are very crotchets that he
speaks;
Note notes, forsooth, and nothing!          [Music.
Bene. [In the arbour.]  Now, divine air! now is
his soul ravish'd! — Is it not strange, that sheep's
guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? -Well,
a horn for my money, when all's done.
BALTHAZAR'S Song.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore;
To one thing constant never.
VOL. III.            Q




258               MUCH ADO                 ACT II.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.
Sing no more ditties, sing no mo
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The frauds of men were ever so,
Since Summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.
D. Pedro.  By my troth, a good song.
Balth.  And an ill singer, my lord.
D. Pedro.  Ha? no, no,'faith; thou singest well
enough for a shift.
Bene. An he had been a dog that should have
howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him; and I
pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had
as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague
could have come after it.
D. Pedro. Yea, marry; dost thou hear, Balthazar?
I pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber-window.
Balth.  The best I can, my lord.
D. Pedro.  Do so; farewell.  [Exit BALTHAZAR.]
Come hither, Leonato: what was it you told me of
to-day? that your niece Beatrice was in love with
Signior Benedick?
Claud. [Aside to PEDRO.] 0, ay: —stalk on, stalk
on; the fowl sits.  [Aloud.]  I did never think that
lady would have loved any man.
Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that
she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she
hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor




3C. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                    259
Bene.  Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?
Leon.  By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what
to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection: it is past the infinite of thought.
D. Pedro.  May be, she doth but counterfeit.
Claud.'Faith, like enough.
Leon.  O God! counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion,
as she discovers it.
D. Pedro.  Why, what effects of passion shows
she?
Claud. [Aside.]  Bait the hook well: this fish
will bite.
Leon.  What effects, my lord?  She will sit you,
- you heard my daughter tell you how.
Claud.  She did, indeed.
D. Pedro.  How, how, I pray you?  You amaze
me: I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
Leon.  I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.
Bene.  I should think this a gull, but that the
white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure,
hide himself in such reverence.
Claud. [Aside.] He hath ta'en th' infection: hold
it up.
D. Pedro.  Hath she made her affection known to
Benedick?
Leon.  No, and swears she never will: that's her
t orment.
Claud.'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says:
"Shall I," says she, "that have so oft encounter'd
him with scorn, write to him that I love him?"
Leon.  This says she, now, when she is beginning
to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night,




260                MUCH  ADO                ACT II.
and there will she sit in her smock, till she have
writ a sheet of paper. -My daughter tells us all.
Claud.  Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
Leon.! —  when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between
the sheet?
Claud. That.
Leon.  O! she tore the letter into a thousand half
pence; rail'd at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout
her: -" I measure him," says she, "by my own
spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me;
yea, though I love him, I should."
Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps,
sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays; - cries,
"0 sweet Benedick! God give me patience!"
Leon.  She doth indeed: my daughter says so;
and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that
my daughter is sometimes afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true.
D. Pedro.  It were good, that Benedick knew of
it by some other, if she will not discover it.
Claud.  To what end? He would but make a sport
of it, and torment the poor lady worse.
D. Pedro.  An he should, it were an alms[-deed]
to hang him.  She's an excellent sweet lady; and,
out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
Claud.  And she is exceeding wise.
D. Pedro.  In every thing, but in loving Benedick.
Leon.  0! my lord, wisdom and blood combating
in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that
blood hath the victory.  I am  sorry for her, as I
have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.




sc. TII.      ABOUT NOTHING.                  261
D. Pedro.  I would she had bestowed this dotage
on me; I would have daff'd all other respects, and
made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of
it, and hear what he will say.
Leon. Were it good, think you?
Claud.  Hero thinks surely, she will die; for she
says she will die if he love her not, and she will
die ere she make her love known, and she will die
if he woo her, rather than she will'bate one breath
of her accustomed crossness.
D. Pedro.  She doth well: if she should make
tender of her love,'tis very possible he'll scorn it;
for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible
spirit.
Claud.  He is a very proper man.
D. Pedro.  He hath, indeed, a good outward happiness.
Claud.'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise.
D. Pedro.  He doth, indeed, show  some sparks
that are like wit.
Leon.  And I take him to be valiant.
D. Pedro.  As Hector, I assure you: and in the
managing of quarrels you may see he is wise; for
either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a christian-like fear.
Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep
peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into
a quarrel with fear and trembling.
D. Pedro.  And so will he do; for the man doth
fear God, howsoever it seems not in him  by some
large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your
niece. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of
her love?
Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it
out with good counsel.




262                MUCH ADO                 ACT II
Leon.  Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her
heart out first.
D. Pedro. Well, we will hear farther of it by your
daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well,
and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good
a lady.
Leon.  My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud.  [Aside.]  If he do not dote on her upon
this, I will never trust my expectation.
D. Pedro.  [Aside.]  Let there be the same net
spread for her; and that must your daughter and
her gentlewoman carry.  The sport will be, when
they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and
no such matter: that's the scene that I would see,
which will be merely a dumb show.  Let us send
her to call him in to dinner.
[Exeunt Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO.
BENEDICK advances from the arbour.
Bene. This can be no trick: the conference was
sadly borne. - They have the truth of this from Hero.
They seem to pity the lady. It seems, her affections
have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited.  I hear how I am censur'd.  They say, I will
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from
her: they say, too, that she will rather die than give
any sign of affection. - I did never think to marry.
-I must not seem  proud. —Happy are they that
hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.
They say, the lady is fair;'tis a truth, I can bear
them witness: and virtuous;'tis so, I cannot reprove
it: and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is
no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her
folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may
chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit




SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                    263
broken on me, because I have rail'd so long against
marriage; but doth not the appetite alter?  A man
loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure
in his age.  Shall quips, and sentences, and these
paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour?  No; the world must be peopled.  When I said I would die a bachelor, I did
not think I should live till I were married. -Here
comes Beatrice.  By this day, she's a fair lady: I
do spy some marks of love in her.
Enter BEATRICE.
Beat.  Against my will, I am sent to bid you come
in to dinner.
Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than
you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful,
I would not have come.
Bene.  You take pleasure, then, in the message?
Beat.  Yea, just so much as you may take upon
a knife's point, and choke a daw withal. - You have
no stomach, signior: fare you well.           [Exit
Bene.  Ha! "Against my will I am  sent to bid
you come in to dinner" -there's a double meaning
in that.  "I took no more pains for those thanks,
than you took pains to thank me" - that's as much
as to say, any pains that I take for you is as easy
as thanks. - If I do not take pity of her, I am a
villain: if I do not love her, I am a Jew.  I will
go get her picture.                          [Exit.




264               MUCH ADO               ACT IlT
ACT  III.
SCENE I.  LEONATO'S Garden.
Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA.
HERO.
OOD Margaret, run thee to the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the Prince and Claudio:
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her: say, that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it.- There will she
hide her,
To listen our propose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg.  I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently.                               [Exit.
Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick:
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice: of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay.




sc. T.        ABOUT NOTHING.                    265
Enter BEATRICE, behind.
Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs.  The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero.  Then go we near her, that her ear lose
nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. 
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock.
Urs.                    But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero.  So says the Prince, and my new-trothed
lord.
Urs.  And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam?
Hero.  They did intreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Urs.  Why did you so?  Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed,
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero.  O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man;
But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice:
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Q2




266                MUCH  ADO                ACT III.
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak.  She cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Urs.                   Sure, I think so;
And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero.  Why, you speak truth.  I never yet saw
man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-fac'd,
She would swear the gentleman should be her sister:
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed:
If low, an agate very vilely cut:
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds:
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out,
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Urs.  Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero. No; not to be so odd, and from all fashions
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.
But who dare tell her so?  If I should speak,
She would mock me into air: 0! she would laugh
me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a bitter death to die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Urs.  Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.
Hero.  No; rather I will go to Benedick,




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                  267
And counsel him to fight against his passion:
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with.  One doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Urs. O! do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment
(Having so swift and excellent a wit,
As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero.  He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, Madam;
Speaking my fancy, Signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
Hero.  Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. —
When are you married, Madam?
Hero. Why, every day; - to-morrow. Come, go
in:
I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel,
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
Urs.  [Aside.]  She's ta'en, I warrant you: we
have caught her, Madam.
Hero.  [Aside.]  If it prove so, then loving goes
by haps:
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
[Exeunt HERO and URSULA; BEATRICE
comes forward.
Beat. What fire is in.mine ears? Can this be
true?
Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.




268               MUCH  ADO               ACT III.
And, Benedick, love on: I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.          [Exit.
SCENE II.
A Room in LEONATO'S House.
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and
LEONATO.
D. Pedro.  I do but stay till your marriage be
consummate, and then go I toward Arragon.
Claud. I'll bring you thither, my Lord, if you'll
vouchsafe me.
D. Pedro.  Nay; that would be as great a soil in
the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child
his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only
be bold with Benedick for his company; for from
the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is
all mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him.
He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue
is the clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue
speaks.
Bene.  Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon.  So say I: methinks you are sadder.
Claud.  I hope he be in love.
D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there's no true drop
of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love. If
he be sad, he wants money.
Bene.  I have the tooth-ache.




SC. II.       ABOUT NOTHING.                   269
D. Pedro.  Draw it.
Bene.  Hang it!
Claud.  You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
D. Pedro.  What! sigh for the tooth-ache?
Leon.  Where is but a humour, or a worm?
Bene.  Well, every one can master a grief, but he
that has it.
Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.
D. Pedro.  There is no appearance of fancy in him,
unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman
to-morrow, [or in the shape of two countries at once;
as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and
a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet.]  Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he
hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it
appear he is.
Claud.  If he be not in love with some woman,
there is no believing old signs: he brushes his hat
o' mornings; what should that bode?
D. Pedro.  Hath any man seen him at the barber's?
Claud. No; but the barber's man hath been seen
with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath
already stuff'd tennis-balls.
Leon.  Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by
the loss of a beard.
D. Pedro.  Nay, he rubs himself with civet: can
you smell him out by that?
Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's
in love.
D. Pedro.  The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?




270                MUCH  ADO                ACT III.
D. Pedro.  Yea, or to paint himself? for the which,
I hear what they say of him.
Claud.  Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now
crept into a lutestring, and now govern'd by stops.
D. Pedro.  Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him.
Conclude he is in love.
Claud.  Nay, but I know who loves him.
D. Pedro.  That would I know  too: I warrant,
one that knows him not.
Claud.  Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of all, dies for him.
D. Pedro.  She shall be buried-with her face
upwards..ene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache.
Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied
eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which
these hobby-horses must not hear.
[Exeunt BENEDICK and LEONATO.
D. Pedro.  For my life, to break with him  about
Beatrice.
Claud.'Tis even so.  Hero and Margaret have by
this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the
two bears will not bite one another when they meet.
Enter JOHN the Bastard.
John.  My lord and brother, God save you.
D. Pedro.  Good den, brother.
John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with
you.
D. Pedro.  In private?
John.  If it please you; yet Count Claudio may
hear; for what I would speak of concerns him.
D. Pedro.  What's the matter?
John.  [To CLAUDIO.]  Means your lordship to be
married to-morrow?




SC. II.       ABOUT NOTHING.                   271
D. Pedro.  You know, he does.
John.  I know not that, when he knows what 1
know.
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you,
discover it.
John. You may think, I love you not: let that
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now
will manifest. For my brother, I think, he holds you
well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your
ensuing marriage; surely, suit ill spent, and labour
ill bestowed 
D. Pedro.  Why, what's the matter?
John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances
shorten'd, (for she has been too long a talking of,)
the lady is disloyal.
Claud. Who? Hero?
John.  Even she: Leonato's Hexo, your Hero, every man's Hero.
Claud. Disloyal?
John.  The word is too good to paint out her wickedness: I could say, she were worse: think you of
a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not
till farther warrant: go but with me to-night, you
shall see her chamber-window enter'd, even the night
before her wedding-day: if you love her then, tomorrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
Claud.  May this be so?
D. Pedro.  I will not think it.
John.  If you dare not trust that you see, confess
not that you know.  If you will follow me, I will
show you enough; and when you have seen more,
and heard more, proceed accordingly.
Claud. If I see any thing to-night, why I should




272               MUCH ADO                ACT III.
not marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where
I should wed, there will I shame her.
D. Pedro.  And, as I wooed for thee to obtain
her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.
John.  I will disparage her no farther, till you are
my witnesses: bear it coldly but till night, and let
the issue show itself.
D. Pedro.  O day untowardly turned!
Claud.  O mischief strangely thwarting!
John.  O plague right well prevented! So will
you say, when you have seen the sequel.  [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A Street.
Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES, with the Watch.
Dogberry.  Are you good men and true?
Verges. Yea, or else it were pity but they should
suffer salvation, body and soul.
Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for
them, if they should have any allegiance in them,
being chosen for the Prince's Watch.
Verg. Well, give them  their charge, neighbour
Dogberry.
Dogb.  First, who think you the most desartless
man to be Constable?
1 Watch.  Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal,
for they can write and read.
Dogb.  Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath
bless'd you with a good name: to be a well-favoured
man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read
comes by nature.
2 Watch. Both which, Master Constable,



SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                  273
Dogb. You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God
thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no
need of such vanity. You are thought here to be
the most senseless and fit man for the Constable of
the Watch; therefore bear you the lanthorn. This is
your charge. You shall comprehend all vagrom men:
you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name.
2 Watch. How, if'a will not stand?
Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let him
go; and presently call the rest of the Watch together,
and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he
is none of the Prince's subjects.
Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none
but the Prince's subjects.-You shall also make no
noise in the streets; for for the Watch to babble and
talk is most tolerable, and not to be endured.
2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk: we
know what belongs to a Watch.
Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most
quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should
offend; only, have a care that your bills be not stol'n.
Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid
those that are drunk get them to bed.
2 Watch. How, if they will not?
Dogb. Why then, let them  alone till they are
sober: if they make you not then the better answer,
you may say, they are not the men you took them for.
2 Watch. Well, sir.
Dogb.  If you meet a thief, you may suspect him,
by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for
such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with
them, why, the more is for your honesty.
VOL. III.          R




274               MUCH ADO               ACT IIf.
2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we
not lay hands on him?
Dogb. Truly, by your office you may; but, I think,
they that touch pitch will be defil'd. The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let
him show himself what he is, and steal out of your
company.
Verg. You have been always call'd a merciful man,
partner.
Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will;
much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you
must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.
2 Watch. How, if the nurse be asleep, and will
not hear us?
Dogb. Why then, depart in peace, and let the child
wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear
her lamb when it baes, will never answer a calf when
he bleats.
Verg.'Tis very true.
Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, Constable, are to present the Prince's own person: if you
meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him.
Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that, I think,'a cannot.
Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man
that knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, not
without the Prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch
ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay
a man against his will.
Verg. By'r lady, I think, it be so.
Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night:
an' there be any matter of weight chances, call up me.
Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and good
night. Come, neighbour.
2 Watch. Well, Masters, we hear our charge: let




SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                   275
us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and
then all to bed.
Dogb.  One word more, honest neighbours. I pray
you watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil tonight.  Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech you.
[Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES.
Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE.
Bora.  What! Conrade!
Watch.  [Aside.]  Peace! stir not!
Bora. Conrade, I say!
Con.  Here, man; I am at thy elbow.
Bora.  Mass! and my elbow itch'd; I thought,
there would a scab follow.
Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and
now forward with thy tale.
Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this penthouse;
for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard,
utter all to thee.
Watch. [Aside.] Some treason, Masters; yet stand
close.
Bora.  Therefore know, I have earned of Don John
a thousand ducats.
Con. Is it possible that any villainy should be
so dear?
Bora.  Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make
what price they will.
Con. I wonder at it.
Bora. That shows thou art unconfirm'd. Thou
knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or
a cloak, is nothing to a man.
Con. Yes, it is apparel.




276               MUCH  ADO               ACT IIl.
Bora. I mean, the fashion.
Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Bora.  Tush! I may as well say, the fool's the
fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this
fashion is?
Watch.  [Aside.]  I know that Deformed;'a has
been a vile thief this seven year:'a goes up and
down like a gentleman.  I remember his name.
Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?
Con. No:'twas the vane on the house.
Bora.  Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed
thief this fashion is? how giddily'a turns about all
the hot bloods between fourteen and five and thirty?
sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers in
the reechy painting; sometime, like god Bel's priests
in the old church window; sometime, like the shaven
Hercules in the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where
his cod-piece seems as massy as his club?
Con. All this I see, and I see that the fashion
wears out more apparel than the man. But art not
thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou
hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the
fashion?
Bora.  Not so, neither; but know, that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman,
by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good
night. - I tell this tale vilely:- I should first tell
thee, how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, and possessed by my master, Don
John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.
Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero?
Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio;
but the devil, my master, knew she was Margaret;




SC. IV.       ABOUT NOTHING.                 277
and partly by his oaths, which first possess'd them,
partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but
chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged;- swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before
the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw
o'er-night, and send her home again without a husband.
1 Watch. We charge you in the Prince's name,
stand.
2 Watch. Call up the right Master Constable. We
have here recovered the most dangerous piece of
lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.
1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: I
know him;'a wears a lock.
Con. Masters, Masters!
2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I
warrant you.
Con. Masters, 
1 Watch. Never speak: we charge you, let us obey
you to go with us.
Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
being taken up of these men's bills.
Con. A  commodity in question, I warrant you.
Come, we'll obey you.                    [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Room in LEONATo's House.
Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSUTLA.
Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and
desire her to rise.




278                MUCH  ADO                ACT III.
Urs.  I will, lady.
Hero.  And bid her come hither.
Urs.  Well.                       [Exit URSULA.
Marg.  Troth, I think your other rabato were better.
Hero.  No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.
Marg.  By my troth,'s not so good; and, I warrant, your cousin will say so.
Hero.  My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.
I'll wear none but this.
Marg.  I like the new tire within excellently, if
the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's
a most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of
Milan's gown, that they praise so.
Hero.' O, that exceeds, they say.
Marg.  By my troth,'s but a night-gown in respect of yours: cloth o' gold, and cuts, and lac'd with
silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and
skirts round, under-borne with a bluish tinsel; but
for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion,
yours is worth ten on't.
Hero.  God give me joy to wear it, for my heart
is exceeding heavy!
Marg.'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of
a man.
Hero.  Fie upon thee! art not asham'd?
Marg.  Of what, lady? of speaking honourably?
Is not marriage honourable in a beggar?  Is not
your lord honourable without marriage? I think you
would have me say, saving your reverence,'a husband:' an bad thinking do not wrest true speaking,
I'll offend  nobody.  Is there any harm  in' the
heavier for a husband'? None, I think, an it be the
right husband and the right wife; otherwise'tis light,
and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she
comes.




sc. IV.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  279
Enter'BEATRICE.
Hero. Good morrow, coz.
Beat.  Good morrow, sweet Hero.
Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the sick
tune?
Beat.  I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Marg. Clap's into Light o' love; that goes without a burthen: do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Beat. Yea, Light o' love, with your heels! - then,
if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he
shall lack no barns.
Marg.  0, illegitimate construction! I scorn that
with my heels.
Beat.'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin:'tis time
you were ready.  By my troth, I am exceeding ill.
- Heigh ho!
Marg.  For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
Beat.  For the letter that begins them all, H.
MIarg. Well, an you be not turn'd Turk, there's
no more sailing by the Star.
Beat.  What means the fool,' trow?
Marg.  Nothing I; but God send every one their
heart's desire!
Hero.  These gloves the Count sent me, they are
an excellent perfume.
Beat. I am stuff'd, cousin, I cannot smell.
Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! there's goodly catching of cold.
Beat.  0, God help me! God help me! how long
have you profess'd apprehension?
Marg.  Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit
become me rarely?
Beat. It is not seen enough; you should wear it
in your cap. -By my troth, I am sick.




280               MUCH ADO               ACT III.
Marg. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing
for a qualm.
Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle.
Beat. Benedictus! why benedictus? you have some
moral in this benedictus.
Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no moral
meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think,
perchance, that I think you are in love: nay, by'r
lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor
[ list not to think what I can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in
love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was
such another, and now is he become a man: he swore
he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of
his heart, he eats his meat without grudging: and
how you may be converted, I know not, but, methinks, you look with your eyes as other women do.
Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false gallop.
Enter URSULA.
Urs. Madam, withdraw: the Prince, the Count,
Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of
the town are come to fetch you to church.
Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg,
good Ursula.                             [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Another Room in LEONATO'S House.
Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES.
Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour?




sc. v.         ABOUT NOTHING.                   281
Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence
with you, that decerns you nearly.
Leon.  Brief, I pray you; for, you see, it is a busy
time with me.
Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg.  Yes, in truth it is, sir.
Leon.  What is it, my good friends?
Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off
the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so
blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were; but,
in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.
Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any
man living, that is an old man, and no honester
than I.
Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges.
Leon.  Neighbours, you are tedious.
Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we
are the poor Duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own
part, if I were as tedious as a King, I could find in
my heart to bestow it all of your worship.
Leon.  All thy tediousness on me, ah?
Dogb. Yea, an'twere a thousand times more than'tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship
as' of any man in the city, and though I be but a
poor man, I am glad to hear it.
Verg.  And so am I.
Leon.  I would fain know what you have to say.
Verg.  Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting
your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as
arrant knaves as any in Messina.
Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking:
as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out. God
help us! it is a world to see! — Well said, i' faith,
neighbour Verges: - well, God's a good man: an two
R2




282               MUCH  ADO               ACT III.
men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. - An honest soul, i' faith, sir: by my troth he is, as ever
broke bread; but, God is to be worshipp'd: all men
are not alike; alas, good neighbour!
Leon.  Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of
you.
Dogb. Gifts, that God gives.
Leon.  I must leave you.
Dogb. One word, sir.  Our watch, sir, have, indeed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we
would have them this morning examined before your
worship.
Leon.  Take their examination yourself, and bring
it me: I am now in great haste, as may appear unto
you.
Dogb. It shall be suffigance.
Leon.  Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you
well.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your
daughter to her husband.
Leon. I'll wait upon them: I am ready.
[Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger.
Dogb. Go, good partner, go; get you to Francis
Seacoal; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the
gaol: we are now to examine those men.
Verg.  And we must do it wisely.
Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you;
here's that shall drive some of them to a'non-come':
only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol.    [Exeunt,




SC I.         ABOUT NOTHING.                 283
ACT IV.
SCENE I.- The Inside of a Church.
Enter Don PEDRO, JOHN  the Bastard, LEONATO,
Friar, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE,
Guests, and Attendants.
LEONATO.
COME, Friar Francis, be brief: only to the plain
form of marriage, and you shall recount their
particular duties afterwards.
Friar.  You come hither, my lord, to marry this
lady?
Claud. No.
Leon. To be married to her; Friar, you come to
marry her.
Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to
this Count?
Hero. I do.
Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment, why you should not be conjoined, I charge you
on your souls to utter it.
Claud. Know you any, Hero?
Hero. None, my lord.
Friar. Know you any, Count?
Leon.  I dare make his answer; none.
Claud. 0, what men dare do! what men may do!
what men daily do, [not knowing what they do!]
Bene.  How  now!  Interjections?  Why then,
"some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!"
Claud. Stand thee by, Friar. - Father, by your
leave:




284              MUCH ADO                ACT Iv.
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?
Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose
worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. -
There, Leonato; take her back again:
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. 
Behold, how like a maid she blushes here:
0, what authority and show of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows? But she is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Claud.                      Not to be married,
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity, -
Claud. I know what you would say: if I have
known her,
You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the'forehand sin:
No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large:
But, as a brother to his sister, shewed
Bashful sincerity and comely love.




sc. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                  285
Hero.  And seem'd I ever otherwise to you?
Claud.  Out on thee!  Seeming!  I will writ6
against it:
You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals
That rage in savage sensuality.
Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?
Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you?
D. Pedro.                 What should I speak?
I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are
true.
Bene.  This looks not like a nuptial.
Hero.                           True?  O God!
Claud. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother?
Is this face Hero's?  Are our eyes our own?
Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord?
Claud. Let me but move one question to your
daughter,
And, by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
Leon. I charge thee do [so], as thou art my child.
Hero. O God, defend me! how am I beset! —
What kind of catechising call you this?
Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?
Claud.                 Marry, that can Hero:
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
What man was he talk'd with you yesternight




286              MUCH ADO                ACT IV.
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.
D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. - Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count,
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night,
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord,
Not to be spoken of;
There is not chastity enough in language,
Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
Claud. 0 Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been,
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart 
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love,
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?
[HERO swoons.
Beat. Why, how  now, cousin! wherefore sink
you down?
John. Come, let us go. These things, come thus
to light,
Smother her spirits up.
rExeunt Don PEDRO, JOHN, and CLAUDIO
Bene. How doth the lady?




sC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                  287
Beat.          Dead, I think:- help, uncle! -
Hero! why, Hero! - Uncle!- Signior Benedick!Friar!
Leon.  O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand:
Death is the fairest cover for her shame,
That may be wish'd for.
Beat.                  How now, cousin Hero?
Friar.  Have comfort, lady.
Leon. Dost thou look up?
Friar.          Yea; wherefore should she not 
Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly
thing
Cry shame upon her?  Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes;
For did I think thou would'st not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I, for that, at frugal Nature's frame?
0, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates;
Who smeared thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have said,'No part of it is mine;
This shame derives itself from unknown loins'?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much,
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her; why, she —O! she is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little, which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!




288               MUCH ADO                 ACT IV
Bene.                    Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.
Beat.  0, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat.  No, truly not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
Leon.  Confirm'd, confirm'd! 0, that is stronger
made,
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron!
Would the two Princes lie? and Claudio lie,
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears? Hence! from her; let her die.
Friar.  Hear me a little;
For I have only silent been so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions
To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames,
In angel whiteness, bear away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire,
To burn the errors that these Princes hold
Against her maiden truth. -Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading, nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenor of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
Leon.                   Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,
Is, that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury: she not denies it.
Why seek'st thou, then, to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?




sc. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                    289
Friar.  Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?
Hero. They know, that do accuse me: I know
none.
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy! -  0, my father!
Prove you that any man with me convers'd
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain'd the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.
Friar.  There is some strange misprision in the
Princes.
Bene.  Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the Bastard,
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.
Leon.  I know not.  If they speak but truth of
her,
These hands shall tear her: if they wrong her honour,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
Friar.                         Pause a while,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter, here, the Princes left for dead;
Let her a while be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed:
Maintain a mourning ostentation;
VOL. III.         S




290                MUCH  ADO                ACT IV.
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon.  What shall become of this?  What will
this do?
Friar.  Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf
Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd,
Upon the instant that she was accus'd,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd
Of every hearer; for it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then we rack the value; then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us,
Whiles it was ours.- So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
Than when she liv'd indeed: -then shall he mourn,
(If ever love had interest in his liver,)
And wish he had not so accused her;
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell'd false,
The supposition of the lady's death




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   291
Will quench the wonder of her infamy;
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene.  Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you:
And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.
Leon.                  Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar.'Tis well consented; presently away,
For to strange sores strangely they strain the
cure. -
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day,
Perhaps, is but prolong'd: have patience, and
endure.
[Exeunt Friar, HERO, and LEONATO.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
Beat.  Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.
Beat.  You have no reason; I do it freely.
Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is
wrong'd.
Beat.  Ah, how much might the man deserve of
me that would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat.  A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?
Beat.  It is a man's office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as
you. Is not that strange?
Beat.  As strange as the thing I know not. It




292                MUCH  ADO                ACT IV.
were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so
well as you; but believe me not, and yet I lie not:
I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. - I am sorry
for my cousin.
Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me.
Beat.  Do not swear by it, and eat it.
Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and
I will make him eat it, that says I love not you.
Beat.  Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it.
I protest I love thee.
Beat.  Why then, God forgive me!
Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beat.  You have stayed me in a happy hour: I
was about to protest I loved you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
Beat.  I love you with so much of my heart, that
none is left to protest.
Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beat. Kill Claudio.
Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.
Beat.  You kill me to deny.  Farewell.
Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
Beat.  I am  gone, though I am here: — there is
no love in you. -Nay, I pray you, let me go.
Bene. Beatrice, -
Beat.  In faith, I will go.
Bene. We'll be friends first.
Beat.  You dare easier be friends with me than
fight with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?
Beat.  Is he not approved in the height a villain,
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? - 0, that I were a man! —What! bear her
in hand until they come to take hands, and then with




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                  293
public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, - 0 God, that I were a man! I would eat his
heart in the market-place.
Bene. Hear me, Beatrice -
Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! -a
proper saying.
Bene. Nay, but Beatrice -
Beat. Sweet Hero! - she is wrong'd, she is slandered, she is undone.
Bene. BeatBeat.  Princes and Counties!  Surely, a princely
testimony, a goodly count    confect; a sweet gallant,
surely   O, that I were a man for his sake! or that
I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But
manhood is melted into court'sies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and
trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that
only tells a lie and swears it.- I cannot be a man
with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with
grieving.
Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice.  By this hand, I love
thee.
Beat.  Use it for my love some other way than
swearing by it.
Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio
hath wrong'd Hero?
Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a
soul.
Bene. Enough! I am  engag'd, I will challenge
him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you.
By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go,
comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead; and
so, farewell.                             [Exeunt.




294               MUCH ADO                 ACT IV.
SCENE II.
A Prison.
Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns;
and the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO.
Dogb. Is our whole dissembly appear'd?
Verg.  O! a stool and a cushion for the Sexton.
Sexton.  Which be the malefactors?
Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner.
Verg. Nay, that's certain: we have the exhibition
to examine.
Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to
be examined? let them  come before Master Constable.
Dogb. Yea, marry, let them  come before me.What is your name, friend?
Bora. Borachio.
Dogb. Pray write down' Borachio.' -Yours, sirrah?
Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dogb. Write down'Master gentleman Conrade.'Masters, do you serve God?
[Con. Bora.  Yea, sir, we hope.
Dogb. Write down that' they hope they serve God':
— and write' God' first; for God defend but God
should go before such villains!] — Masters, it is proved
already that you are little better than false knaves,
and it will go near to be thought so shortly.  How
answer you for yourselves?
Con.  Marry, sir, we say we are none.
Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you;
but I will go about with him. - Come you hither,




SC. II.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   295
sirrah; a word in your ear, sir: I say to you, it is
thought you are false knaves.
Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none.
Dogb.  Well, stand aside. —'Fore God, they are
both in a tale.  Have you writ down, that they are
none?
Sexton.  Master Constable, you go not the way to
examine: you must call forth the Watch that are
their accusers.
Dogb.  Yea, marry, that's the eftest way: -Let
the Watch come forth. - Masters, I charge you, in
the Prince's name, accuse these men.
1 Watch.  This man said, sir, that Don John, the
Prince's brother, was a villain.
Dogb.  Write down' Prince John a villain.' Why,
this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother, villain.
Bora.  Master Constable
Dogb.  Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy
look, I promise thee.
Sexton.  What heard you him  say else?
2 Watch.  Marry, that he had received a thousand
ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero
wrongfully.
Dogb.  Flat burglary as ever was committed.
Verg.  Yea, by th' mass, that it is.
Sexton.  What else, fellow?
1 Watch.  And that Count Claudio  did mean,
upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole
assembly, and not marry her.
Dogb.  0 villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into
everlasting redemption for this.
Sexton.  What else?
2 Watch.  This is all.
Sexton.  And this is more, Masters, than you can




296               MUCH ADO                ACT IV.
deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stol'n
away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this
very manner refus'd, and, upon the grief of this,
suddenly died. Master Constable, let these men be
bound, and brought to Leonato: I will go before,
and show him their examination.             [Exit.
Dogb.  Come, let them be opinion'd.
Con. Let them be, in the hands of coxcomb.
Dogb.  God's my life! where's the Sexton? let
him  write down the Prince's officer, coxcomb. -
Come, bind them. - Thou naughty varlet!
Con. Away! you are an ass; you are an ass.
Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost
thou not suspect my years?- 0, that he were here
to write me down, an ass!   But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down,
yet forget not that I am an ass. -No, thou villain,
thou art full of piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee
by good witness.  I am a wise fellow; and, which
is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as
any in Messina; and one that knows the law, go
to; and a rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow
that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns,
and every thing handsome about him. Bring him
away. 0, that I had been writ down, an ass!
FExeunt.




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   297
ACT V.
SCENE I. -Before LEONATO's House.
Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO.
ANTONIO.
IF you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And'tis not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself.
Leon.           I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve.  Give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine:
Bring me a father that so lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain;
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard,
And, sorrow's wag, cry hem, when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man; for, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
82




298               MUCH ADO                 ACT V.
Charm ache with air, and agony with words.
No, no;'tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Leon. I pray thee, peace! I will be flesh and
blood;
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the tooth-ache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods,
And made a push at chance and sufferance.
Ant. Yet bend not all the harm  upon yourself;
Make those that do offend you suffer too.
Leon. There thou speak'st reason: nay, I will
do so.
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO.
Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio, hastily.
D. Pedro.  Good den, good den.
Claud.                Good day to both of you.
Leon. Hear you, my lords, —
D. Pedro.         We have some haste, Leonato.
Leon. Some haste, my lord! - well, fare you well,
my lord:Are you so hasty now? —well, all is one.
D. Pedro.  Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old
man.
Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lie low.




sc. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   299
Claud.                   Who wrongs him?
Leon.  Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou, dissembler, thou.Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;
I fear thee not.
Claud.        Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear.
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at
me;
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool;
As, under privilege of age, to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do,
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by,
And with gray hairs and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child:
Thy slander hath gone through and through her
heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors,
O! in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villainy.
Claud.  My villainy?
Leon.              Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.
D. Pedro.  You say not right, old man.
Leon.                         My lord, my lord,
I'll prove it on his body, if he dare,
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth, and bloom of lustihood.
Claud.  Away! I will not have to do with you.
Leon.  Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd
my child:
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.




300              MUCH ADO                ACT V.
Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that's no matter; let him kill one first:Win me and wear me; — let him answer me. -
Come, follow me, boy! come, sir boy, come, follow
me.
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
Leon. BrotherAnt. Content yourself. God knows I lov'd my
niece;
And she is dead; slander'd to death by villains,
That dare as well answer a man, indeed,
As I dare'take a serpent by the tongue.
Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!
Leon.                      " Brother Antony —
Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know
them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple:
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys,
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go anticly, and show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies - if they durst;
And this is all!
Leon. But, brother Antony —
Ant.                      Come,'tis no matter:
Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.
D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your
patience.
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death;
But, on mine honour, she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proof.
Leon. My lord, my lord!D. Pedro.                  I will not hear you.




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                  301
Enter BENEDICK.
Leon.                                      No?
Come, brother, away. -I will be heard.Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it.
[Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO.
D. Pedro. See, see: here comes the man we went
to seek.
Claud. Now, Signior, what news?
Bene. Good day, my lord.
D. Pedro. Welcome, Signior: you are almost come
to part almost a fray.
Claud. We had like to have had our two noses
snapp'd off with two old men without teeth.
D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What think'st
thou? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have been
too young for them.
Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour.
I came to seek you both.
Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee;
for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have
it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?
Bene. It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?
D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Claud. Never any did so, though very many have
been beside their wit. -I will bid thee draw, as we
do the minstrels; draw to pleasure us.
D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale.Art thou sick, or angry?
Claud. What! courage, man! What though care
kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill
care.
Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career,
an you charge it against me. - I pray you, choose
another subject.




302                MUCH ADO                 ACT V.
Claud. Nay then, give him another staff: this last
was broke cross.
D. Pedro.  By this light, he changes more and
more.  I think he be angry indeed.
Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
Bene.  Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Claud.  God bless me from a challenge!
Bene.  You are a villain. -I jest not:   I will
make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and
when you dare. - Do me right, or I will protest your
cowardice. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her
death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from
you.
Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good
cheer.
D. Pedro.  What, a feast? a feast?
Claud. I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to
a calf's-head and a capon, the which if I do not carve
most curiously, say my knife's naught. - Shall I not
find a woodcock too?
Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well: it goes easily.
D. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy
wit the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit:
"True," said she, "a fine little one:" " No," said
I, " a great wit: " " Right," says she, "a great gross
one: " " Nay," said I, "a good wit:" "Just," said
she, "it hurts nobody: " " Nay," said I, "the gentleman is wise:  "  Certain," said she, "a wise gentleman: " "Nay," said I, "he hath the tongues:"
" That I believe," said she, " for he swore a thing to
me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning: there's a double tongue; there's two
tongues."  Thus did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular virtues; yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the prop'rest man in
Italy.




sc. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                 303
Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said
she car'd not.
D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that,
an if she did not hate him deadly, she would love
him dearly. The old man's daughter told us all.
Claud. All, all; and moreover, God saw him when
he was hid in the garden.
D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's
horns on the sensible Benedick's head?
Claud. Yea, and text underneath, " Here dwells
Benedick the married man!"
Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind.
I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour:
you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which,
God be thanked, hurt not.- My lord, for your many
courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your
company. Your brother, the Bastard, is fled from
Messina: you have, among you, kill'd a sweet and
innocent lady. For my Lord Lack-beard, there, he
and I shall meet; and till then, peace be with him.
[Exit BENEDICK.
D. Pedro. He is in earnest.
Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.
D. Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee?
Claud. Most sincerely.
D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he
goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!
Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with
CONRADE and BORACHIO.
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then
is an ape a doctor to such a man.
D. Pedro. But, soft you; let me be: pluck up,
my heart, and be sad! Did he not say my brother
was fled?




304               MUCH ADO                ACT V.
Dogb. Come, you, sir: if Justice cannot tame you,
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance.
Nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must
be look'd to.
D. Pedro. How now! two of my brother's men
bound? Borachio one?
Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.
D. Pedro.  Officers, what offence have these men
done?
Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have
belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust
things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done?
thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence? sixth and
lastly, why they are committed? and, to conclude,
what you lay to their charge?
Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division;
and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.
D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that
you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's youi
offence?
Bora.  Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine
answer: do you hear me, and let this Count kill me.
I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have
brought to light, who, in the night, overheard me
confessing to this man how Don John, your brother,
incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you
were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her,
when you should marry her. My villainy they have
upon record, which I had rather seal with my death




SC. I.        ABOUT NOTHING.                   305
than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon
mine and my master's false accusation; and, briefly,
I desire nothing but the reward of a villain.
D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through
your blood?
Claud.  I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it.
D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?
Bora.  Yea; and paid me richly for the practice
of it.
D. Pedro.  He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery.
And fled he is upon this villainy.
Claud.  Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear
In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first.
Dogb.  Come; bring away the plaintiffs: by this
time our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of
the matter. And, Masters, do not forget to specify,
when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verg.  Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato,
and the Sexton too.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, and the Sexton.
Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
Bora.  If you would know  your wronger, look
on me.
Leon.  Art thou the slave that with thy breath
hast kill'd
Mine innocent child?
Bora.               Yea, even I alone.
Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it. —
I thank you, Princes, for my daughter's death:
VOL. III.          T




306              MUCH ADO                ACT V.
Record it with your high and worthy deeds.'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.
D. Pedro.       By my soul, nor I;
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoin me to.
Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;
That were impossible; but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina, here,
How innocent she died: and, if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones: sing it to-night.To-morrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us:
Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.
Claud.! noble sir,
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me.
I do embrace your offer; — and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming:
To-night I take my leave. -This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who, I believe, was pack'd in all this wrong,
Hir'd to it by your brother.
Bora.            No, by my soul, she was not;




sc. I.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  307
Nor knew  not what she did when she spoke to
me;
But always hath been just and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.
Dogb. Moreover, sir, which, indeed, is not under
white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did
call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remember'd in
his punishment. And also, the Watch heard them
talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in
his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money
in God's name; the which he hath us'd so long, and
never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will
lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him
upon that point.
Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful
and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.
Leon. There's for thy pains.
Dogb. God save the foundation!
Leon. Go: I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and
I thank thee.
Dogb. I leave an arrant knave with your worship;
which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for
the example of others. God keep your worship; I
wish your worship well: God restore you to health.
I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a merry
meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. — Come,
neighbour.
[Exeunt DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Watch.
Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.
Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you tomorrow.
D. Pedro. We will not fail.
Claud.          To-night I'll mourn with Hero.
[Exeunt Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO.




308               MUCH ADO                 ACT V.
Leon.  Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with
Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
LEONATO'S Garden.
Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting.
Bene.  Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve
well at my hands by helping me to the speech of
Beatrice.
Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise
of my beauty?
Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man
living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth,
thou deservest it.
Marg. To have no man come over me? why, shall
I always keep below stairs?
Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's
mouth; it catches.
Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils,
which hit, but hurt not.
Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not
hurt a woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice.
I give thee the bucklers.
Marg.  Give us the swords, we have bucklers of
our own.
Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put
in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous
weapons for maids.
Marg.  Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I
think, hath legs.               [Exit MARGARET,
Bene. And therefore will come.




8C. II.       ABOUT NOTHING.                    309
The god of love,         [Singing.]
That sits above,
And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve,I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good
swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and
a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers,
whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of
a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned
over and over as my poor self, in love.  Marry, I
cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find
out no rhyme to'lady' but'baby,' an innocent
rhyme; for' scorn,''horn,' a hard rhyme; for' school,''fool,' a babbling rhyme - very ominous
endings. No, I was not born under a rhyming planet,
for I cannot woo in festival terms.Enter BEATRICE.
Sweet Beatrice, would'st thou come when I call'd
thee?
Beat. Yea, Signior; and depart when you bid me.
Bene.  0, stay but till then!
Beat.' Then' is spoken; fare you well now: —
and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came [for];
which is, with knowing what hath pass'd between
you and Claudio.
Bene.  Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss
thee.
Beat.  Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind
is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkiss'd.
Bene.  Thou hast frighted the word out of his right
sense, so forcible is thy wit.  But, I must tell thee
plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either




310                MUCH  ADO                 ACT V.
I must shortly hear from  him, or I will subscribe
him  a coward.  And, I pray thee now, tell me for
which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love
with me?
Beat.  For them  altogether; which maintain'd so
politic a state of evil that they will not admit any
good part to intermingle with them.  But for which
of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?
Bene.  "Suffer love"! a good epithet.  I do suffer love, indeed; for I love thee against my will.
Beat. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor
heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it
for yours; for I will never love that which my friend
hates.
Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
Beat.  It appears not in this confession; there's
not one wise man among twenty that will praise
himself.
Bene.  An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd
in the time of good neighbours.  If a man do not
erect, in this age, his own tomb ere he dies, he
shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings
and the widow weeps.
Beat.  And how long is that, think you?
Bene.  Question: - why, an hour in clamour, and
a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient
for the wise (if Don Worm, his conscience, find no
impediment to the contrary) to be the trumpet of
his own virtues, as I am  to myself.  So much for
praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is
praiseworthy.  And now  tell me, how  doth your
zousin?
Beat. Very ill.
Bene.  And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.




SC. III.      ABOUT NOTHING.                  311
Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will
I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Enter URSULA.
Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home: it is proved, my Lady Hero
hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince and Claudio
mightily abus'd; and Don John is the author of all,
who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?
Beat. Will you go hear this news, Signior?
Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and
be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I will go with
thee to thy uncle's.                     [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Inside of a Church.
Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and Attendants, with
music and tapers.
Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Atten.  It is, my lord.
Claud. [Reads.]
Epitaph.
Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.




312               MUCH ADO                ACT V.
Song.
Pardon, goddess of the night,
Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn, and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered,
Heavenly, heavenly.
Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!
Yearly will I do this rite.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Masters: put your torches
out.
The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phcebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy East with spots of gray.
Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.
Claud. Good morrow, Masters: each his several way.
D. Pedro.  Come, let us hence, and put on other
weeds;
And then to Leonato's we will go.
Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds
Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Room in LEONATo's House.
Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE,
MARGARET, URSULA, Friar, and HERO.
Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her




SC. IV.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  313
Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.
Ant.  Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
Leon.  Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me. - You know your office, brother;
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.    [Exeunt Ladies.
Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance.
Bene.  Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar.  To do what, Signior?
Bene.  To bind me, or undo me; one of them. —
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good Signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
Leon.  That eye my daughter lent her:'tis most
true.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from
me,
From  Claudio, and the Prince.  But what's your
will?
Bene.  Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
In the state of honourable marriage: -
In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar.                            And my help.
[Here comes the Prince, and Claudio.]
T2




314               MUCH ADO                 ACT V.
Enter Don PEDRO and CLATDIO, with Attendants.
D. Pedro.  Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon.  Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio:
We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud. I'll hold my mind were she an Ethiop.
Leon.  Call her forth, brother: here's the Friar
ready.                      [Exit ANTONIO.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's
the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
Claud.  I think he thinks upon the savage bull. 
Tush! fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with gold,
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee,
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene.  Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange  bull leap'd your father's
cow,
And got a calf in that same noble feat
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
Enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies, masked.
Claud.  For this I owe you: here come other reckonings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
Leon. This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why, then she's mine. — Sweet, let me
see your face.
Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her
hand
Before this Friar, and swear to marry her.




SC. IV.       ABOUT NOTHING.                   315
Claud.  Give me your hand before this holy Friar:
I am your husband if you like of me.
Hero.  And when I liv'd, I was your other wife:
[ Unmasking.
And when you lov'd, you were my other husband.
Claud.  Another Hero?
Hero.                    Nothing certainer.
One Hero died [defil'd]; but I do live,
And, surely as I live, I am a maid.
D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
Leon.  She died, my lord, but whiles her slander
liv'd.
Friar.  All this amazement can I qualify;
When after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.
Bene. Soft and fair, Friar.- Which is Beatrice?
Beat. I answer to that name. [Unmasking.] What
is your will?
Bene. Do not you love me?
Beat.           Why, no; no more than reason.
Bene. Why, then, your uncle, and the Prince, and
Claudio,
Have been deceived: [for] they swore you did.
Beat.  Do not you love me?
Bene.           Troth, no; no more than reason.
Beat.  Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula,
Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did.
Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for
me.
Beat.  They swore that you were well-nigh dead
for me.
Bene.'Tis no such matter. -Then, you do not
love me?




316               MUCH ADO                  ACT V.
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
Claud.  And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves
her;
For here's a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.
Hero.                And here's another,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket,
Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene.  A miracle! here's our own hands against
our hearts.- Come, I will have thee; but, by this
light, I take thee for pity.
Beat.  I would not deny you; — but, by this good
day, I yield upon great persuasion, and, partly, to
save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth.
D. Pedro.  How dost thou, Benedick, the married
man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour.  Dost
thou think I care for a satire, or an epigram?  No:
if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear
nothing handsome about him.  In brief, since I do
purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for [what] I have said against
it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. - For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have
beaten thee; but, in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my cousin.
Claud.  I had well hop'd thou would'st have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgell'd thee out




SC. IV.       ABOUT NOTHING.                  317
of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer;
which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin
do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene. Come, come, we are friends.- Let's have
a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our
own hearts, and our wives' heels.
Leon. We'll have dancing afterward.
Bene. First, of my word; therefore-, play, music!
— Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a
wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipp'd
with horn.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I'll devise
thee brave punishments for him.- Strike up, pipers.
[Dance. - Exeunt.








NOTES ON MUCH ADO ABOUT
NOTHING.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE I.
p. 229.  " Enter LEONATO ": - Here the stage direction in folio
and quarto is, "Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina,
Innogen his wife," &c.; and at the commencement of
the next Act, " Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife,"
&c.; but as Imogen neither speaks nor is spoken to, and,
(as Mr. Dyce has well observed,) could not remain upon
the stage dumb at the interrupted nuptial of her daughter, and as she is not in any way alluded to, it is plain
that she has no place among the Dramatis Personae. The
name is probably a transcript from the first draft of the
play, in making which the author had a plan which he
afterward abandoned.
" --    Don Pedro of Arragon":- "Don Peter" in
both folio and quarto, here and immediately after; but in
the next stage direction, and afterward, " Don Pedro."
p. 230. " —-- Signior Montanto": - Beatrice speaks of the
soldier who dwells so much in her thoughts, by a term of
the fencing school.
t    "i-   of any sort" — Plainly, none'of any kind;'
but Warburton and Mr. Dyce would have it,'of any
quality,'' of any rank' - meaning'high quality,'  high
rank.' But' sort,' unless used absolutely, without qualification of degree or merit, as we sometimes use' character' to mean' good character,' cannot be thus arbitrarily
raised from its inferior and general sense to one higher
and particular; and no instance of such a use has been
quoted. Throughout Shakespeare's works and those of
his contemporaries it is used to mean class and condition, of all sorts; for instance, " The other sorte be even
(319)




320  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT I.
Seruingmen."  A briefe Conceipte of English Pollicy. 4to.
1598. fol. 336. See Shakespeare's Scholar, p. 166.
p. 230.  " He set up his bills here ": - Posting small placards,
was, in Shakespeare's day, the only mode of making matters public, except proclaiming them by a crier.
"      "    at the flight... at the bird-bolt": — The
flight arrow was long, and was used for long shots: the
bolt was short and thick, and suited only to short distances.
"   "-  he hath holp to eat it":- The folio has " ease,"
with a long s, the quarto " eate," - a difference hardly
worth notice.
p. 231.  "Is there no young squarer":-So long as quarrelsome boys' square off' at each other, explanation of this
word is superfluous.
p. 232.  "Enter Don PEDRO, JOHN the Bastard," &c.:-Thus the
direction of the folio, in which John is generally so styled;
but sometimes John and Sir John.
/    "-  Leonato, you are come ":- The quarto reads,
" are you come."
"I    "Were you in doubt ": - The quarto adds " Sir."
p. 233.  " This is the sum," &c.:-The quarto has" That is," &c.
p. 234.  "      to toll us Cupid is a good hare-fnder," &c.: - So
much confusing comment has been made on this plain
passage, that it is pardonable to point out that Benedick
asks' do you mean to tell us that the blind boy has the
eyes of a greyhound, and that Vulcan's forge and anvil
are used to work wood?'
p. 235.  "Enter Don PEDRO ": -Both folio and quarto add,
" JOHN the Bastard; " but with evident error; for John
afterward learns from Borachio what passes at this interview.
"-    it is not so, nor'twas not so," &c. - This is the
burden of a fearful old story, as bloody as Blue Beard,
without its whimsicality, which will be found in the Variorum Edition, related upon the authority of Blakeway.
In the story is a motto, " Be bold, be bold, but not too
bold," found also in The Faerie Queene, B. III. C. xi. 54.
p. 236.  "I speak mine ":-The quarto, "spoke."
"    "-    in the force of his will":- Warburton's professional eye first detected the allusion here to heresy, as
defined in scholastic divinity; according to which it was
not merely heterodox opinion, but a wilful adherence to




SC. II.                NOTES.                         321
such opinion. The subject was a familiar one in Shakespeare's day.
p. 236.  "-    a recheat winded in my forehead": - The recall
which the hunter blew upon his horn was called the, recheat.' Benedick's meaning is sufficiently obvious., "-     hang me in a bottle, like a cat":- It was a
cruel sport of the day to shoot at a cat in a bottle.,, "-    and called Adam ":- An allusion to one of
the three celebrated archers, Adam  Bell, Clym of the
Clough, and William of Cloudesley.  See the Outlaw's
Ballad in Percy's Reliques of English Poetry.
p. 237.  " In time the savage bull," &c.:-This line is quoted,
with a slight error, from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, Act II.
"    "-   if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice ":The courtezans and intriguing ladies of Venice
were famous, the world over.
it     "-  ere you flout cld ends," &c.: - alluding to the
old formal phrases for closing letters, such as Don Pedro
and Claudio have just been quoting.
p. 238.  " -     [and with her father," &c.]:- These words are
not in the folio: making just one line, and in the multiplicity of' ands,' they were evidently skipped.
SCENE II.
p. 239.  "Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO: —In the stage direction here, both in folio and quarto, Antonio is called
" an old man, brother to Leonato; " and in succeeding
directions and prefixes, " Old man," or " Brother."
"     "-.. I can tell you news ": - The quarto has " strange
news; " and in Antonio's next speech, " thus much overheard."
"i    "- ~ thick-pleached"  - thickly interwoven.
SCENE III.
p, 240.  "-  in the occasion that breeds [it]":-Both folio
and quarto lack' it,' which is from Mr. Collier's folio of
1632. In Conrade's next speech but one the quarto has,
" at least a patient sufferance;" and in his next after,
" you should take true root."
t    "4       a canker in a hedge": - a dog-rose.
p. 241.  " I will make all use," &c.: -The quarto reads, " I
make."
i    "And who, [and who]":- This iteration, tame in
VOL. III.               U




322  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT II.
itself, and out of place after the Bastard has, with deliberation, called Claudio " a proper squire," is entirely unsuited to the taciturn phlegm of John; and I have not
a doubt that the second' and who' is an accidental repetition, and that we should read, " And who? which way
looks he? "
p. 241.  "I whipp'd behind " - The quarto has, " I whipp'd
me behind," &c.
ACT SECOND.
SCENE I.
p. 243.  "'       if he could get her good will "  - The quarto
and folio have here, " if a could," &c. -  a' being, in
Shakespeare's day, and still, in some parts of England, a
vulgar colloquialism for'he.' Throughout the quarto
impression of this play'a' is constantly put for the pronoun; but in the folio, with comparative rarity. That
this is the result of the corrections made at the theatre
in the quarto copy from which the folio was printed, (See
Introduction,) is plain, from the appearance of this change
only in speeches of those of the higher ranks among the
dramatis personae.  In a few  instances, however, the
change is not made in those; and that this is the result of
inadvertence is shown by the appearance in the original
of' I' and   a' in the same speech. In such cases the
evident design of the authentic text is perfected in the
present edition; while the characteristic vulgarism is allowed, as in that text, to remain in the mouths which it
becomes: - a course which has not hitherto been taken.
I -  earnest of the be'r-'ard:- i. e., the bear-ward,
-spelled, in both folio and quarto, " berrord," which
shows the pronunciation of the term, and indicates the
proper manner of printing it.
"          "-     and away to St. Peter for the Heavens ":Gifford shows that' for the Heavens " was a pretty oath
in Shakespeare's day, and Mr. Dyce would place the colon after'Peter,' and read, "for the Heavens, he shows,"
&c. But from the context it appears that here the obvious
meaning of the phrase is the proper one.
p. 244.  " -   Father, as it please you ": -'Father' is omitted in the folio; evidently by accident. It appears in
the quarto.
"     " -   too important":- i. e., importunate. See Note
on " important letters," Com. of Err., Act V. Sc. 1.




SC. I.                   NOTES.                         32,
p. 244.  "-  modest, as a measure ":- a stately dance. Mr.
Collier's folio of 1632 reads, a line or two below, " till he
sink apace into his grave."  The pun is a tolerable one
for the old dabbler, but out of place; and Shakespeare
would not write " till he sink apace." It occurs in Marston's Insatiate Countess, Act II., where Mr. Collier's corrector may have found it; and it was suggested by Capell.
p, 245.  " Enter Don PEDRO...BALTHAZAR; JOHN": -
The folio and quarto have " Balthazar or dumb John" -
evidently a misprint for' and don John.' That Balthazar
was in no sense dumb, we have already had ample evidence. The old copies have " Maeskers with a drum."
" -     within the house is Jove ":- The folio has
"love," which, of course, is a misprint for' Jove,' the
word in the quarto. The story of Baucis and Philemon
is related in Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book 8.
"     "Well, I would you did like me ":- This and the
two following speeches are assigned in both folio and
quarto to Benedick. Theobald first saw that the whole
of the dialogue with Margaret belongs to Balthazar; which
is so plain when attention is directed to the matter, that
it seems strange it had not been discovered before. Benedick is at this time engaged with Beatrice; as we see by
their entrance, almost immediately after, in the midst of
a conversation, of which we hear only the close. The
mistake is one of a kind which is common, for the reason assigned by Mr. Dyce, that " two prefixes, each beginning with the same letter, are frequently confounded
by transcribers and printers." See Note on " Let them
be in the hands," &c. Act IV. Sc. 2.
p. 246.  "      the Hundred Merry Tales":- "A  C Mery
Tales" is the title of an old jest book printed first by
Rastell, and therefore between 1517 and 1533. Only one
copy is known to exist; and that is imperfect. It was
discovered in 1815 by the Rev. Professor Conybeare, of
Oxford. A few copies were reprinted by that prince of
modern printers, Whittingham, under the superintendence of Mr. Singer: - and a very pretty sort of book it
was for a young lady to have her good wit out of.
" -    only his gift is in devising," &c.:- i. e., his
only gift, &c., for which it is more than possible that the
text is an accidental transposition.
p. 248.  "-'twas the boy that stole your meat":-The
story to which this speech refers appears to be entirely
lost on both sides of the water. I have never heard of
or met with any other allusion to it.




324  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT II.
p. 248.  "Enter Don PEDRO, HERO, and LEONATO ":-The
direction in the folio is, "Enter the Prince," and afterward, "Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero; "
but in the quarto we have, " Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, John and Borachio, and Conrade," and afterward,
" Enter Claudio and Beatrice."  In both we have specimens of the carelessness with which entries were marked
in early impressions of old plays. But although John
and Borachio do not appear until the next Scene, and
Conrade not at all, the quarto is plainly correct in making Hero and Leonato enter with Don Pedro, leaving Beatrice and Claudio to follow some time after. For not only
does Benedick say, " I told him true, that your Grace had
got the good will of this young lady," - i. e., Hero; but
Beatrice, soon after she comes in, says to the Prince, " I
have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek."
These two speeches seem to group the characters as they
appear in the text.
p. 249.  "         the [good] will of this young lady ":-The
folio has "the will," and just before, " I think told him
true," the words in brackets, in the text, which are found
in the quarto, having, quite surely, been omitted by accident.
"        -  terrible as her terminations ":-The folio omits' her,' accidentally without a doubt.
p. 260.  "      -the infernal Ati in good apparel":-Although
Atd was not a Fury, but the Goddess of Discord, Warburton's opinion that this is " a pleasant allusion to the
custom of ancient poets and painters, who represent the
furies in raggs," is most probably correct.
-t, - Prester John's foot ": - Prester John was the
fabulous ruler of an unknown country supposed to be in
the far East. No one of course knew any thing of him,
yet almost every one believed in his existence, and believed with wonder. See Sir John Mandeville's account
of his travels, written in the fourteenth century.
"     "-   a hair off the great Cham's beard ":- The first
folio and the quarto have " off; " and so have all the ancient copies. Therefore, and because the word has a very
appropriate signification, it should stand; although all
modern editions, hitherto, have' of,' because old printers
and old writers did not always distinguish between' off'
and' of.' When in doubt, take the authentic text.
Ir      -    this Lady Tongue " - Thus the folio. The second folio has " this lady's Tongue," which, on account of
the allusion to' a dish,' is possibly the correct reading.
The quarto has " my lady Tongue."




sc. It.                 NOTES.                         325
p. 251. "-   something of a jealous complexion":-The
quarto has "that jealous complexion."  The Spanish
orange was called the Civil orange - the name being so
spelled and pronounced.
I "-    that he is in her heart ": - So the quarto: the
folio has " my heart" - a manifest error.
/    "-    thus goes every one to the world but I ":- For
a woman to' go to the world' was for her to be married;
the phrase signifying either to go the way of the world,
or to take a place in the world.
p. 252.  "     -never sad, but when she sleeps" -never serious.
-   to hear tell of a husband": -- This form  of
speech, which Shakespeare constantly puts into the mouth
of personages of the highest rank, but which is now never
heard in Old England, except, perhaps, in the remotest
rural districts, is in common use in New England. The
idiom is pure English.  I, And yet I sawe in that little
time, in one Citie, more libertie to sinne, then euer I
heard tell of in our noble Citie of London in ix yeare."
Ascham's Schoolemaster, 4to., 1589, fol. 27 a.
p. 253.  "-     answer [my] mind ":- The folio omits " my,"
which is found in the quarto.
" -     th' one with th' other "    Thus both folio and
quarto, and yet all modern editions have'the' in both
instances.  The pronunciation, as could be shown by
numberless instances, was t' one and t' other - the latter
of which survives to us. The number of similar cases in
which the text of Shakespeare is faithfully given in this
alone of all modern editions - that is, since 1685 - is
countless: they have been necessarily passed without notice, with very rare exceptions. Editors will misrepresent the text in a characteristic though trivial point,
like this, and yet affront the common sense of mankind
by a labored explanation of what Shakespeare meant by
" a mountain of affection."
If    " -   of a noble strain ":- descent, line-age, - from
the Anglo-Saxon strynd; the common word'strain'
having a different root.
SCENE II.
p. 255.  "     hear Margaret term me Claudio ":- Thus both
folio and quarto. Theobald read, " term me Borachio;" -
plausibly; as to those who were deceived, Hero's error would
have seemed of a very different kind if they had had reason
to suppose she thought her visitant really Claudio, and as
Claudio himself was to be a spectator of the scene. He has




326 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT IT.
been generally followed till of recent years: and Mr. Collier agrees with him, although he gives the old text!
That text is right; for, plainly, Borachio wheedled Mlargaret into playing with him at a scene between the other
lovers. He himself declares, Act V. Sc. 1, that she was
innocent of any attempt to injure her mistress; and as for
Claudio, it was enough for him to know (as he thought)
that he heard Hero " term" another than he Claudio.
p. 255.  " -     such seeming truth of her disloyalty ": - The
old copies have for' her' the very needless and unpleasant
repetition, "Heroes; " which, there can hardly be a doubt,
was the result of a mistaking of' her,' in the MS., for a
customary abbreviation of the proper name. Thus, in the
quarto,' Margaret' is printed  "Marg." just before.
SCENE III.
I " Enter BENEDICK," &cC.: - Folio and quarto have
" Enter Benedick alone," the Boy's entrance not being
noticed.
f    " -    in the orchard":-' Orchard' (originally' hortyard') and'garden' were synonymous in Shakespeare's
day.
p. 256.  " -   now is he turn'd orthographer ":- Folio and
quarto have orthography., -    her hair shall be of what colour it please God ":
-See Act III. Sc. 4. "I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner." Mr. Verplanck reasonably supposes that Shakespeare " had an
especial and somewhat whimsical [though, why whimsical?] dislike to all disguises of the head by art." They
were but too common in his day.
" Enter Don PEDRO... and BALTHAZAR": -The
quarto has, " Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, musicke,"
and afterward, " Enter Balthaser with musicke; " but the
folio has only, and in the first place, "Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Jacke Wilson," giving us plainly in
this Scene, as in another of this play, a transcript from
the very prompt book used at Shakespeare's theatre. Jack
Wilson not being " nominated " in the quarto, it is plain
that the copy from which the folio was printed has other
authority than that which pertains to the older edition;
and besides, if he were the distinguished Dr. John Wilson, of Oxford, which is more than probable, (See Rimbault's Who was Jack Wilson? and Shakespeare's Scholar,
p. 166) he was not the "music" which entered when
that edition was printed; for he was then only about
six years old, but about twenty-nine, of course, when




SC. III.                  NOTES.                          327
the folio was published.  The context shows plainly
that Balthazar enters in company with the Prince and
the others, after having sung a solo to them just before.
p. 257.  "We'll fit the kid-fox": -'Kid,' as meaning'young,'
is still in use among the lower classes in England.  It is
more than probable, however, that we should read' hidfox.'
in    " Note notes, forsooth, and nothing":- This is one of
many evidences that th used to be pronounced as t, and' nothing' as'no-ting.' But the orthoepical point not
having been noticed hitherto, Theobald read' noting,'
and was invariably followed, until Mr. Collier restored
the original word, merely, however, on the principle of
adherence to "the oldest authority." See Introduction.
p. 258.  " Then sigh not so," &c.:- In most modern editions,
and in all of the present century, this line has hitherto
been improperly printed as two.  The occurrence of a
rhyme in the middle of an octosyllabic line which itself
is rhymed with by another only at the close, is common
in our early ballad poetry.
" The frauds of men were ever so":- Thus the folio;
the quarto has, The fraud of men was," &c.
"t /      -  stalk on, the fowl sits ":- An allusion to the
use of the stalking horse behind which the ancient fowler
hid himself from the birds.
p. 260.  "' -   prays; -cries,' OsweetBenedick!'" &c.:-Folio and quarto have "prayes, curses, 0 sweet Benedick,"
&c. In Mr. Collier's folio of 1632' curses' was changed
to' cries,' for which it might easily be misprinted, and
which, there can be no doubt, is the correct word; for
why should Beatrice curse?  Mr. Singer adopts the
change. But the needful correction was thus but partly
made; for Claudio having already said that Beatrice
"weeps, sobs," it is plain that, cries" means that she
cries out, " O sweet Benedick! " Hitherto the text has
predicated nothing of her exclamation.
"     c-         an alms[-deed] to hang him":-Folio and
quarto have " an alms to hang him;" but there can
scarcely be a doubt that Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 is correct in reading' alms-deed.''An alms' meant only a charitable gift; but'an alms-deed' was a recognized phrase,
almost a word, signifying not only such an act, but any
equally worthy.  Thus Queen Margaret says to Gloster in
Henry VI., Part 3, Act V. Sc. 5, " murther is thy almsdeed."
p. 261.  " —-  I would have daff'd," &c.: - i. e., dofed.




328 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT III.
p. 261.  "  -  a contemptible spirit":-i. e., contemptuousa frequent use of the word in Shakespeare's day.
" -   you may see he is wise ":- The quarto has
"say" and afterward,  "most christian-like."
"     Shall we go seek Benedick ": - The folio has " see,"
which, from the situation of the parties, seems to be a
misprint for' seek,' which is found in the quarto.
p. 262.  "-  unworthy to have so good a lady":- The quarto omits' to have.''     "-  and her gentlewoman carry":- The quarto
has ", gentlewomen."
ACT THIRD.
SCENE I.
p. 264.  " Proposing with the Prince" - conversing - from
the French propos,' discourse.'
"    To listen our propose ": - The folio has "purpose; "
but although instances of the use of that word in the
sense of' conversation' occur, there can be no doubt that
it is in this case a misprint for the word found in the
quarto. See the previous Note.
p. 265. " —    haggards of the rock":- wild hawks of the
mountains.
p. 266.  "If black":  Dark-complexioned men were called
black.  " Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies'
eyes."  Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act V. Sc. 2.
" -  an agate very vilely cut ": - This comparison
to the diminutive figures sculptured upon agate seal
rings, was not uncommon in Shakespeare's day.'       "-    press me to death with wit ":- The peine forte
et dure, used of old as the last resort to compel accused
persons to plead, was inflicted by stretching them on
their backs upon their dungeon floor, and gradually
heaping heavy weights upon the chest and abdomen until
a plea was extorted or death ensued. During the process, the sufferer was allowed only water from the pool
nearest the prison.
" It were a bitter death to die with mocks."
The original has " better," an obvious and easy misprint for the word in the text, to which it is corrected in
the second folio. The quarto has the same error and another,'" a better death than die," &c., which reading has




SC. II.                  NOTES.                         329
most strangely been given in all modern editions hitherto,
to the entire disregard of the context as well as of the
authentic copy.'or, " It were a better death than die
with mocks " can only refer to Benedick's consuming away
in sighs; whereas it is herself that Hero represents as being in danger of being pressed to death with wit, if she
reveal Benedick's passion, and " therefore," she says, " let
Benedick consume."  He is threatened with no other
danger from Beatrice than that in which he is already
represented to be from her charms. Mr. Collier incorrectly quotes the text of the folio as " a better death than
to die," &c.' Tickling' is here a trisyllable.
p. 267.  " Why, every day; - to-morrow ":- Mr. Collier's
folio of 1632 has " in a day " - a plausible emendation;
but the original text is correct. Hero uses a form of expression which has survived in America, although it is
not in common use. It appears, for instance, in business
announcements, sometimes seen in the newspapers, that
certain goods will be ready' in all next month.'
l    "t She's ta'en":- The quarto has, " She's lim'd."
SCENE II.
p. 269.  "-    or a worm ":-the tooth-ache was formerly
supposed to be caused by a worm at the root of the tooth.
I"  r  ~  every one can master a grief," &c.:-The
original has " cannot" - an obvious error.
i-  all slops": —loose trousers or breeches. We
still have'slop-shops.' That part of the allusion to the
aping of foreign fashions that time out of mind has been
characteristic of the English race, which is enclosed in
brackets, is found only in the quarto. It seems not to
have been stricken out by the author; for without it,
Benedick's " foolery " would be somewhat incomplete.
" And when was he wont to wash his face?" - That
the benign effect of the tender passion upon Benedick in
this regard should be so particularly noticed, requires,
perhaps,' the remark, that in Shakespeare's time our race
had not abandoned itself to that reckless use of water,
either for ablution or potation, which has more recently
become one of its characteristic traits.
p. 270.  "        with her face upwards ":- Theobald read,
"with her heels upwards"- a needless change, which
Heath well opposed by pointing out that the author
" prepares the reader to expect somewhat uncommon or
extraordinary; and the humor consists in the disappointment of that expectation." It is plain, too, that
u 2




330 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT III.
the Prince alludes to that burial mentioned by Perdita in
the The Winter's Tale, Act IV. Sc. 3: -
"Not like a corse; but if —not to be buried,
But quick, and in mine arms."
p. 270.  " Good den, brother":-   Good den' was a colloquial abbreviation of' Good even.'
p. 272.  "      - till night ":- The quarto has " till midnight."
SCENE III.
1    " Enter DOGBEERRY and VERGES," &c.:- In the original
stage-direction Verges is simply designated as the " cornpartner" of Dogberry.
p. 273.  " -   that your bills be not stol'n":-The'bill'
was a long-handled weapon like a halberd, uniting the
spear and the axe. The entire costume of these watchman Scenes is that of Shakespeare's own time and country. In the original stage-direction for Sc. 3 of this Act,' Goodman Verges " is called the," Headborouzh."  The
Watch was chosen and regulated much after Dogberry's
fashion in Stratford on Avon. Among the papers published by Mr. Halliwell in his Life of Shakespeare is an
Inventory of the goods of Henry Field, a townsman
of Shakespeare's, dated 1592.  In it we find, I In the
yeord these:- One bucket with cocke, lyncks, cord and
wyandlesse, one old heare, fowr half quarters bagges good
and badde, one watching byll."  Watchmen carried the
bill in Litchfield, England, till Dr. Johnson's time, as he
assures us.
p. 274.  " If you hear a child cry," &c.:- This is not much
of a caricature; for in the Statutes of the Streets, printed
in 1598, it is ordered that "no man... shall whistle
after the houre of nyne of the clock in the night," or
"keep any rule whereby any such suddaine outcry be
made in the still of the night, as making an affray or
beating his wife or servant," &c.
t    c,-    that knows the statues":-So the original.
The quarto has "statutes;" the change from which, in the
folio, will hardly be admitted to be among those which,
according to Mr. Collier, are for the worse. See Introduction.
" Keep your fellows' counsels and your own ":- This
is a part of the oath of a grand jury man, and is reasonably considered by Malone as among the indications that
Shakespeare was at some period of his life very familiar
with legal forms.




SC. IV.                  NOTES.                         331
p. 274.  "  -  and I will, like a ttre drunkard, utter all to
thee":-Borachio was not drunk, nor did he mean to
represent himself as drunk at that time. This part of his
reply is an allusion to his name, which was the Italian
term for a gross, gluttonous, bibulous liver.  " Boraccia,
a boracho or bottle made of goates skin, such as they
use in Spaine.  Boracchiare, to gluttonize."  Florio's
Ital. Die. The unlettered, uncultured Shakespeare must
surely have acquired such knowledge as this by witchcraft.
p. 275.  "-        thou art unconfirm'd "  - Though'unconfirmed' may mean'not fixed in the ways of the world,'
it seems to me more than probable that Shakespeare wrote' unconformed' - to the world, of course.
p. 276.  "     in the reechy painting":-' Reechy' is discolored by smoke. It is the adjective of' reek,' from the
A. S. recan.
"       And thought thy Margaret was Hero?"
This reading of the authentic copy has been hitherto
most strangely set aside in favor of the less appropriate
and significant text of the quarto:- " And thought
they Margaret," &c.
p. 277.  " -'a wears a lock":- Love locks were very commonly worn by the young men of Shakespeare's day.
t"      Never speak"   - In both folio and quarto these
words are given to Conrade, by an evident error which
Theobald corrected.
SCENE IV.
p. 278.  "      your other rabato ":- a kind of ruff, called by
Dekker, "your stiff-necked rebatoes."
- "-    down sleeves, side sleeves":- The dress was
made after a fashion which is illustrated in many old
portraits. Beside a sleeve which fitted more or less closely
to the arm and extended to the wrist, there was another,
for ornament, which hung from the shoulder, wide and
open.' Side' was used of old to mean' long,' from the
A. S. sid,' ample.' Occleve thus ridicules the sumptuous and senseless side sleeve:" Now hath this land little neede of broomes
To sweepe away the filth out of the street,
Sen side-sleeves of pennilesse groomes
Will it up-licke, be it drie or weete."
- A function now transferred to ladies' skirts.
p. 279.  "Light o' Love":-This was a dance tune, popular of




332 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT TII.
old. It is mentioned in the Two Gentlemen of Verona,
Act I. Sc. 2. The notes of the air are printed in the
Variorum Shakespeare and in Chappel's Ancient English
Airs.
p. 279.  "~-   you'll look he shall lack no barns":-The
quarto has, "you'll see." They will lose the point of
Beatrice's retort who do not know that the Scottish' bairns' was' barns' in English, and was very commonly
used of old.
t I        n "For the letter that begins them all, H."
The word' ache' used to be pronounced like the letter
H.  See " Fill all thy bones with aches."  The Tempest,
Act I. Sc. 2.
p. 280.  "      carduns benedictus ":- The carduus benedlctus,
or blessed thistle, was thought of old to possess sovereign
healing virtues, and to be particularly efficacious in affections of the heart.  It is the Atractylis Hirsuta of
Botany.
SCENE V.
"Enter.. VERGES ": - It has before been stated in
these notes that the folio in this Scene designates Dogberry's partner as the Headborough, both il the stagedirections and in most of the prefixes.
p. 281.  "     palabras ":-Spanish for'words.' It was in
quite common use, even among the Doyberrys and the
Slys of Shakespeare's day:'palaver' is a corruption of it.,     " All thy tediousness on me, ah? " - Thus folio and
quarto. It is a small matter, but all modern editions
before this have " All thy tediousness on me  ha! "a different sentence and another word.
"  - an'twere a thousand times more ": - The quarto has "pounds."
"        -   God's a good man":- This is a very ancient
saying, and is found in various old authors.
p. 282.  "It shall be suffigance":- Here both folio and quarto have " Exit," - the only direction of the sort in those
copies for this part of the Scene. The error is patent.
t          c   we are now to examine those men":    Thus the
folio: the quarto, which is followed for the blunder's sake,
in almost all modern editions, has " examination these
men." That the former words are found in the authentic
copy, and, being there, have a clear and appropriate sense,
is sufficient reason for giving them in the text; but there




SC. T.                   NOTES.                         333
is another for believing them to be the correct reading. -
The blunder in the quarto is entirely out of place in
Doyberry's mouth: it is not of the sort which Shakespeare
has made characteristic of his mind. Dogberry mistakes
the significance of words, but never errs in the forms of
speech: he is not able to discriminate between sounds
that are like without being the same; but he is never at
fault in grammar: and this putting of a substantive into
his mouth for a verb is entirely at variance with his habit
of thought, and confounds his cacology with that which
is of quite another sort. Shakespeare made him blunder
in almost every speech he utters; but his blunders are
those of pretending ignorance and conceited folly. If he
would but use a vocabulary suited to his capacity, and
talk only about what he understands, his speech might
be without ideas, but it would also be without faults.
Often as there was occasion for him to utter a falsely
constructed sentence or misuse the parts of speech, Shakespeare never makes him do so; unless we are to believe
the evidence of the unauthentic against that of the authentic copy, that this is a solitary instance of such incongruity.
p. 282.  " —  to a non come":- Thus both folio and quarto.
By printing it non cor., more like the abbreviation of
the Latin non compos, modern editors have lost a part of
Doyberry's mystification.
ACT FOURTH.
SCENE I.
p. 283.  "     [not knowing what they do!] ": -These words
are found only in the quarto. The sentence is so filled
with repetitions that this clause might easily escape the
eye or the memory of a compositor; and therefore to exclude it entirely would hardly be justifiable. This consideration rather than its intrinsic value, or the certainty that it was not struck out, or that it was ever written
by Shakespeare, secures it a place in the present text.
" -      some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!'" —
Benedick quotes from the old accidences.
p. 285.  " Out on thee! Seeming! "- The punctuation of the
folio is, " Out on thee, seeming, I will write against it,"
&c. Pope read, "Out on thy seeming," and has been
followed by all editors, except Mr. Collier, (who retains
the original punctuation and supposes Claudio to call




334 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT IV
Iero'seeming,') and Mr. Knight and Mr. Verplanck,
who read, " Out on the seeming!"
p. 285.'; I charge thee do [so]":- The folio omits' so,' which
is found in the quarto.
"    Hero itself":- Some read, " Hero herself," which is
plausible; but Claudio, in reply to Hero's question, speaks
of the name, not directly of her who bears it.
p. 286. " Fie, fie! " &c.:- This is the arrangement of the
original, which Capell, who has been generally followed,
did not mend by reading,
" Fie, fie! they are
Not to be nam'd, my lord; not to be spoke of."
The folio has' spoken;' the quarto,' spoke.'
p. 287.  " —   on the rearward of reproaches ":- The folio
has " reward," evidently a typographical error for " rereward" of the quarto.
l, -       frugal Nature's frame "  -i. e., at the disposition, the design of Providence. It is, however, not impossible that Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 is correct in reading
"'Nature's frown."  The misprint would be very easy,
and the word is highly appropriate.
"t    "Who smeared thus ": - The quarto has " smirched."
p. 288.  "For I have only silent been," &c.: — All editions
hitherto have this line,
"For I have only been silent so long;"
which is just such sort of verse as,
"' Lay your knife and your fork across your plate."
The reason of the corruption is that in quarto and folio
the first four lines of this speech are printed as prose,
thus:" Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so
long, and giuen way unto this course of fortune, by noting of the Ladie, I haue markt.
A thousand blushing apparitions," &c.
Can there be a doubt, that after the passage was put in
type in the quarto it broke down? and that, not being
easily divided, on account of the hemistich, it was arranged as well as possible in the form of prose, the transposition in question being then accidentally made? The
quarto having been used as a stage copy (See Historical
Sketch of the Text, Vol. I.,) and the folio printed from it,
(See Introduction,) this arrangement of the passage was
perpetuated; for the error was not of a sort which demanded correction in a prompter's book.




sc. I.                    NOTES.                           335
p. 288.  "      - bear away those blushes":- The quarto has
"beat," which Mr. Collier gives.  See Introduction.
"  "My reverence, calling," &c.: - Mr. Collier's folio of
1632 has "My reverend calling," &c., the correctness of
which is so probable, and the misprint which it involves,
so easy, that, were it not for the great danger it would
involve to the whole text, thus to set aside an intelligible
authentic reading, there could be no hesitation in accepting it; and this is almost equally true with regard to the
substitution, in the same volume, of' bliting' (i. e., blighting) for "biting" in the last line of the same speech.
But as to' reverence,' see Act V. Sc. 1.
", Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by," &c.
p. 289.  "  -    the Princes left for dead "  -Folio and quarto
have,
i" Your daughter, here the Princesse (left for dead.)"
But Hero was not a Princess; nor is it intimated that she
was of a rank even approaching the princely. The Princes
had just left her for dead. The same error occurred and
has been corrected in The Tempest, Act I. Sc. 2.
p. 290.  " —   we rack the value":- i. e.,' we violently increase the value.' The use of' rack' in this sense - preserved in' rack-rent' - is certainly three hundred years
old, if not more. It frequently occurs in the Conceipt of
English Pollicie, published in 1589, which is referred to
on several occasions in these Notes.,"    "-     in his liver":- The liver was supposed to be
the seat of amorous passion.
"Ford. Love my wife?
Pistol. With liver burning hot."
Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. 1.
f    "-and doubt not but success ": - i. e., what follows, what succeeds.  A  signification similar to that
which' succeed' has in " Owe and succeed thy weakness."  See Note on Measure for Measure, Act II. Sc. 4.
p 292.  "You kill me to deny":- The quarto has, "deny
it," which Mr. Collier gives, although, as he well remarks,
" Shakespeare and other writers of his time, and afterwards, not unfrequently employ' deny' in the sense of
refuse; and so it may be taken in the folio."
p. 293.  " Princes and Counties! " -' County' was the orthography of Shakespeare's day for Comte, the French title
corresponding to' Earl' in English. It occurs several




336 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTIING. ACT IV
times in Shakespeare's works, though much less frequently than' Count.'  This is the only instance of the plural.
In the quarto of this play the orthography is always
county or counte, which is in the folio altered to Comnt in
every instance but this. See the next Note.
p. 293.  "       a goodly count —confect; a sweet gallant surely ":- Thus the folio, with a comma, of course, instead
of our dash, between, count' and' confect.' Beatrice
here is " huddling jest upon jest with impossible conveyance."   Her wit and her anger working together, she
at once calls Claudio's accusation " a goodly conte confect," i. e., a story made up, and him a " count confect,"
i. e., a nobleman of sugar candy; for he was plainly a
pretty fellow and a dandy; and then she clenches the
nail that she has driven home, by adding " a sweet gallant, surely  "  This sense of the passage (which seems
to have escaped all apprehension hitherto, the consequence
being an almost universal corruption of the text) is further evident from the inter-dependence of the whole exclamation, " Surely a princely testimony, a goodly cotunt,"
- the first part of which would be strangely out of place,
if there were no pun in the second.  In Shakespeare's
time the French title' Count' was pronounced like' conte'
or' compte,' meaning'a fictitious story,' a word which
was then in common use. For instance: " to let you heare
Prouerbes which very Artificers haue in their mouth, and
comptes which are used to be told by the fireside." Guazzo's Civile Conversation, 4to. 1586. fol. 6 b.  "- pleasant Jests, Fables, Allegories, Similitudes, Prouerbes,
Comptes, and other delightfull speach."  lb., fol. 62 b.' Conteur,' another word then in vogue, meant, as Shakespeare's contemporary, Cotgrave, tells us, " an idle talker,
vaine speaker, ordinarie teller of old wives tales." Comfects, confects, comfets, or comfits (for the four orthographies were indifferently used) were so called because they
were made up, as the etymology shows; and see Cotgrave, in v. confection.' Conte' suggested not only' count'
but' confect,' the first vowel sound being the same in all.
The quarto has " a goodly counte, counte confect," which
has been generally adopted with the explanation that
" Beatrice first calls Claudio' count,' and then gives him
his title,' count confect!'"  But surely this acceptation, which has been hitherto universal, loses the point
of Beatrice's innuendo, deprives what is left of its proper
connection, and is inconsistent with the quickness and
concentration of her wit and the state of mind in which
she is.  We can easily imagine the bitter sneer with
which Beatrice flings out' Count - confect,' lingering a




SC. II.                 NOTES.                         337
perceptible moment on the first syllable of the latter
word; but that her stopping, " in the tempest and whirlwind of her passion," to repeat'a goodly Count, Count
confect,' would be unnatural in any one, and particularly unlike her, we do not need the evidence of the authentic edition to tell us. It has taken many lines, as it almost always must, to describe and explain what would
flash instantaneously upon the mind of an auditor in
Shakespeare's day, or of a reader prepared to receive it
in this. The text should be'a goodly conte - confect,'
were it not that'conte,'' compte,' and' count' were
used interchangeably when this play was written.
p. 293.  "-    manhood is melted into court'sies":-Both folio
and quarto (though they differ much in mere orthography) have " cursies." It is possible that we should read
curses,' - Beatrice meaning that there was nothing left
of men but words - curses and compliments.
SCENE II.
p. 294.  "Enter... Sexton":- In the stage-direction of the
folio he is called " the Town Clerk." There is great confusion in the prefixes of this Scene. Those to Dogberry's
speeches have generally Kempe, (once misprinted Keeper,)
- the name of the actor who performed the part, - sometimes Const [able], and once Andrew; though Kempe's
name was William, and no actor named Andrew is known
to have been in Shakespeare's company. The speeches of
Verges are prefixed, Cowley, the name of the actor who
bore that part; and the Towne Clerke of the stage-direction
becomes Sexton in the prefixes. The folio follows the
quarto, though with the variations of orthography common at the time, some abbreviations, and one substitution
in an important passage noticed below.
" Marry, that am I," &c.:-This is the speech assigned to Andrew in the old copies.
" Yea, sir, we hope ": - The words of this speech and
the next between brackets are found only in the quarto; -
perhaps, as Blackstone suggested, in consequence of the
statute, 3 Jac. I. c. 21, against the profane employment
of the name of the Creator. Mr. Collier suggests that
the passage might have been omitted because it was " an
interpolation of the actors." It probably was inserted by
an actor of the company- one William  Shakespeare:
there were hardly two in one theatre who could do that.
He did it that Dogberry might have an answer to the
question he asks.
VOL. III.           V




838  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT IV.
p. 295.  " —    and brought to Leonato":-The quarto has
" Leonatoes."
p. 296.  "Let them be, in the hands of coxcomb ":- Thus both
folio and quarto -the speech, however, being erroneously
assigned in the quarto to " Couley," (i. e., Verges,) and in
the folio to the " Sex" [ton].  The error in the first case
was caused by a manifest and very natural mistake of
the printer, and in the second by an unavailing attempt
to rectify that mistake. The prefixes in this case are important; for it is only to a neglect to examine them with
the care which becomes an editor of these works, that
Theobald's ingenious disturbance of the text, (by breaking
this speech in two to give part of it to Verges and part
to Conrade,) and the hitherto universal acquiescence in
this violence for a century and a quarter, can be attributed.  The folio is plainly incorrect in attributing the
speech to the Sexton; for it is one that he would not
make; and Dogberry's exclamation at it shows that the
Sexton leaves immediately after his preceding speech. It
is equally plain that it does not belong to Verges; for he
would not wish to make it, and would not dare, if he
wished.  But must it therefore be given in fragments to
Verges and Conrade?  No: because, as a whole, it is entirely suited to the jeering Conrade; and in the MS. from
which the quarto was printed, it was, without a doubt,
assigned to him by the abbreviated prefix Con., which
being mistaken for Cou., the name was printed Couley.
Mr. Dyce's observation that " two prefixes, each beginning with th6 same letter, are frequently confounded by
transcribers and printers" is particularly in point here.
The great probability thus shown is made certainty by
the facts, that the names of characters were abbreviated
or printed at length indifferently, even in the text, as we
have already seen, Act II. Sc. 2, - that Conrade's name
is generally, if not always, abbreviated Con.,- that Cowley's is, in every other case but the present, except one,
printed, both in quarto and folio, Cowley,- and that the
one other exceptional case is in the very next speech but
one, " Away! you're an ass," &c., which,- too plainly
Conrade's to need a word in support of the assignment of
it to him that has been made silently, or with mere mention, by all editors, - has yet, in both quarto and folio, the
prefix Couley. It is strange, that, as in the latter instance
every one who has thought of the matter has been certain, and justly certain, that Couley had been printed
for Conrade, in the former no one has hitherto suspected
the same mistake; which, except for the unaccountable
and bewildering attempt in the folio to help the matter




SC. I.                  NOTES.                        339
by assigning the speech to the Sexton, is just as patent.
Theobald read, -
"Verg. Let them be in the hands -
Con. Off, Coxcomb!"
Mr. Collier's folio of 1632, -
"Sex. Let them be bound.
Borach.  Off coxcomb!"
Capell, -
"Verg. Let them be in bands.
Con. Off, coxcomb! "
ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.
p. 297.  "Nor let no comforter":-Thus the quarto: the folio
misprints, " comfort."
t    " And, sorrow's wag ":- Folio and quarto have, " And
sorrow, wagge," from which sense cannot be extracted,
and for which the text is an easy misprint. Mr. Collier
would have " sorrow, wag!" mean' sorrow, away!'
which it might; but what a line of disconnected thoughts
does it give us! -
"And, sorrow, away! cry hem, when he should groan."
Mr. Knight reads, -
"And, sorrow wag, cry, - hem when he should groan."
But beside the awkwardness of the first part of the sentence,'cry hem' was a phrase of itself, and the words
must not be separated. Dr. Johnson, by a bold transposition, obtained a good sense and the reading which has
been current hitherto: -
" Cry sorrow, wag! and hem when he should groan."
But although articles, prepositions, and pronouns may be
supposed to have been accidentally transposed, it will not
do thus to shift the important words of a sentence from
beginning to middle; or we could make any passage mean
any thing. Heath proposed, "And sorrowing."  Capell
read, " Bid sorrow wag," &c. All the attempts at emendation have rested on the assumption that' wag' is a
verb, or represents one, except Steevens', who read, "And,
sorry wag; " but is it not plain that Leonato calls the man
who in his affliction smiles and strokes his beard, hems,
patches grief with proverbs, and drowns it in midnight
revelry,' sorrow's wag'?
p. 298.  " And made a push ":- an old form of' pish.'




340  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT V.
p. 298.  " —  drunk with candle-wasters":- A term applied
to those who sat up late at night; and here plainly meaning midnight roisterers.
p. 299. "-  than advertisement " - instruction.
p. 300. "  -  fashion-mong'ring boys": —Folio and 4to. have
"monging," which may be an old form of the word.
p. 301.  "Enter BENEDICK ": -Benedick enters here in the old
copies, and not just after the brothers go out, as he is
usually made to do. It is the more natural and unconstrained arrangement.
" -    draw, as we do the minstrels":-i. e., draw
their bows X" to pleasure us."
p. 302.  "-    this last was broke cross":-Shakespeare himself has furnished the best explanation of this tilting
phrase in As You Like It, Act II. Sc. 4: " - swears brave
oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart
the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his
horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose."
"    " -    how to turn his girdle":-i. e., how get at his
sword-hilt.
p. 303.  "Enter DOGBERRY," &c.:-Here, as on the previous
entrance of Benedick, the more natural arrangement of
the folio has been set aside: in this case, to make Dogberry
enter and speak at once.
p. 304.  " -    ne'er weigh more reasons," &c.: —It must be
remembered, as in reading Falstaff's " If reasons were as
plenty as blackberries," that'raisin' used to be pronounced as we now pronounce'reason.' The custom has
not entirely passed away.
"    "-     your brother incensed me," &c.: —inflamed,
instigated -so used in Richard III., Act III. Sc. 1, and
in Henry VIII., Act I. Sc. 2.
p. 305.  " Art thou the slave ": - The folio repeats' thou' -
obviously by accident.
p. 306.  " -    was pack'd ":- i. e., compact, combined in all
this wrong. So in Comedy of Errors, Act V. Sc. 1: -
"The goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it; for he was with me then."
p. 307.  " God save the foundation! " - This phrase was used
by those who received assistance from benevolent institutions or foundations.
p. 308.  "- with this lewd fellow":- As there is some disagreement with regard to the meaning of' lewd' here, it
is proper to remark that the word first appears in our lan



SC. III.                 NOTES.                         34i
guage meaning merely' ignorant,' of which numberless
instances might be given from Robert of Gloucester, Piers
Ploughman, Wiclif, and Chaucer. It then became, very
naturally, a synonyme for the lay people as opposed to
the clergy - clerks; and of course the sense of' wicked,''depraved,' as opposed to'holy,' was inevitably soon attached to it. This appears to be its signification here,
and also in the passage (Acts xvii. 5,) " certain lewd fellows of the baser sort." The limitation of the word to
the sense of'lascivious' is arbitrary, unwarranted, and
quite modern.
p. 308.  "      shall I always keep below stairs?" - Mr. Singer plausibly suggests that we should read, "keep them
below stairs." Under the circumstances, however, Margaret's wit may limit the purposes for which she would
go above stairs.
"  " I give thee the bucklers ":- i. e., I give thee the
victory, - my shield as well as yours.
p. 309.  " The god of love":- Steevens says that this is the
beginning of an old ballad by William  Elderton. It is
printed as prose in folio and quarto.
"    for I cannot woo," &c.:- The quarto has" nor."
"   "-  with that I came [for] ": - Both the old editions omit' for,' which was supplied by Rowe.
p. 311.  " Yonder's old coil at home ":- We have seen before
(Merry Wives, Act I. Sc. 4) that' old' was an augmentative:' coil' meant' confusion.'
SCENE III.
"     " It is, my lord ": - This reply is assigned to an attendant " Lord" in folio and quarto. The heading, " Epitaph," is upon the same line; but there can be no doubt
that Claudio reads the verses which he has brought to
hang upon the tomb of his mistress. The lines, " Now
unto thy bones," &c., which can belong to none but him,
have the prefix "Lo."
p. 312.              "Heavenly, heavenly."
The quarto has, by a misprint which may almost be
called obvious, " heavily, heavily; " the mistake being
caused by a supposition that this line was meant for a
repetition of the third above. This reading, however,
although destructive of the fine sense that death is to
be uttered (i. e., expelled, outer-ed) by the power of
Heaven, and indeed of all sense whatever, has yet been




342  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ACT V.
adopted by most modern editors; and it is advocated by
Mr. Dyce, because I" it goes so heavily with my disposition," (Hamlet, Act II. Sc. 2,) is misprinted, "it goes so
heavenly," &c., in the folio!
SCENE IV.
p. 313.  "[Here comes," &c.]: - The folio omits this line.
p. 314.  "This same is she," &c.:- Theobald, who has been
followed by almost all editors, gave this speech to Antonio.
Folio and quarto assign it to Leonato; and as he had already, in the first Scene of this Act, offered and promised the hand of his pretended niece to Claudio, there
can be surely nothing more improper in his giving it
to her.
p. 315.  " One Hero died [defil'd] ":- The folio omits' defil'd.' Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 reads' belied,' - a specious suggestion; but the correctness of the old word is
established by the remainder of Hero's speech:
" but I do live,
And surely as I live, I am a maid."
"     "-  [for] they swore you did ":- The old copies
omit  for.' Hanmer inserted it, and it was found in Mr.
Collier's folio of 1632. There can hardly be a doubt that
this was proper, especially as' deceived,' which is contracted in the corresponding line below, is not contracted
in this, thereby rendering one syllable necessary to the
rhythm.  In the folio this speech is printed as prose.
"     "They swore that you," &c.: - The folio omits' that'
in this and in the next line, and' such' in the third.
p. 316.  " Peace! I will stop your mouth ":- In folio and
quarto this speech has the prefix Leon.; but the error is
too plain to permit us to defer, with Mr. Collier, to their
authority.  How was Leonato to stop Beatrice's mouth?
and why, if Leonato stopped it, does the Prince immediately cry, "How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?","    -- ~for [what] I have said against it":- The folio
omits' what.'




LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
(343)




"A PLEASANT Conceited Comedie CALLED, Loues labors
lost. As it was presented before her Highnes this last Christmas. Newly corrected and augmented By W. Shakespere. Imprinted at London by IV. W. for Cutbert Burby." 1598. 4to.
38 leaves.
Love's Labour's Lost occupies twenty-three pages in the folio
of 1623, viz., from p. 122 to p. 144, inclusive, in the division of
Comedies. It is there divided into Acts, but not into Scenes,
and is without a list of Dramatis Personze, which was first supplied by Rowe.
(344)




LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
INTRODUCTION.
COLERIDGE'S opinion in favor of the very early production
of Love's Labour's Lost has been quoted by most recent editors; but surely no intelligent and observant reader can need
the aid of so eminent a critic to establish in him the belief that
this play is among the first that Shakespeare wrote. No other
seems to present so many claims to be considered the very first
that he composed entirely. The earliest known edition is the
quarto of 1598; but as the copy from which this professes to be
printed was " newly corrected and augmented," in order to its
presentation at Court, that date is but the limit before which it
must have been originally written, successfully performed, and
partly rewritten; so that the mention of it by Meres, in the
same year, is of no consequence. This correction and augmentation, too, diminished the amount of internal evidence as to the
early writing of the play in its original form; for it cannot be
doubted that Shakespeare applied the knife to those parts which
bore most unmistakable marks of youth and inexperience, and
that what he added was, in style at least, worthy of him in his
thirty-fifth year. These latter passages hardly any intelligent
reader can fail to detect when told that they exist. The end of
the fifth Act, after the announcement of the death of the King
of France, is one of them; and there accident left trace of the
alteration to which the play had been subjected, in the printing
of a passage which was, or which should have been erased, because it was superseded by an augmentation of the identical
thought in another and a more appropriate place. But had there
been an edition previous to the correction, its date would hardly
reach back to that of the production of the comedy, which was
probably not later than 1588.
The reasons for believing it to be the earliest of its author's
v 2                        (345)




346         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
entirely original plays are,- the unfitness of the subject foi
dramatic treatment, and the want of experience shown in the
conduct of the plot and the arrangement of stage effect; in both
which points it is much inferior to either The Two Gentlemen of
Verona or The Comedy of Errors, one of which must be its rival
for the honor of being Shakespeare's maiden effort as a dramatic
author: - the purely external and verbal character of the faults
and foibles at which its satire is aimed, even in its very title;
which are just such as would excite the spleen of a very young
man who to genius added common sense, and who had just commenced a literary career: -the fact that when Shakespeare was
from twenty to twenty-five years old, the affectation in speech
known as Euphuism  was at its height; Euphues his England
having been published in 1580: -the inferiority of all the characters in strong original traits, even to those of The Two Gentlemen of Verona or The Comedy of Errors; Armado alone having a
clear and well defined individuality, and his figure, though deftly drawn, being somewhat common-place in kind for Shakespeare, while Birone, Rosaline, and Dull are rather germs of
character than characters: - the use of couplets, alternate
rhymes, and even doggerel in the more dignified parts of the
work: - the fact that Monarcho, who is alluded to in Act IV.
Sc. 1, died before 1580; as we know by Churchyard's epitaph
upon him, bearing that date: - and, last not least, as it appears
to me, in the innovating omission of a professed Fool's or Jester's
part from the list of dramatis personae; for it is ever the ambitious way of youthful genius to aim at novelty of form in its first
essays, while yet in treatment it falls unconsciously into a vein
of reminiscence; afterward it is apt to return to established
forms, and to show originality in treatment. So Shakespeare,
on the rebound, (for Love's Labour's Lost, it is safe to say, was
never popular,) put two Fools into both The Two Gentlemen of
Verona and The Comedy of Errors; and afterward, in nearly all
his comedies, and even in some of his grandest tragedies, he introduced this character, so essential to the enjoyment of a large
part of the audience for which he wrote; asserting his plastic
power over his own genius by moulding his wit, his humor, his
pathos, and his wisdom into forms which find fit utterance beneath the Jester's cap and chime with the tinkle of his bells.
No source of the plot of Love's Labour's Lost has been discovered; but that the play is founded upon some older work, its
undramatic character, its needless fulness of detail, its air of




INTRODUCTION.                            347
artificial romance, and the attribution of particular personal
traits — such as black eyes and a dark complexion to one, great
size to another, and a face pitted with the small-pox to another
of the ladies, and the merely incidental hints that one of the
king's friends is an officer in the army and extremely youthful -
seem  unmistakable evidence; and that the story is of French
origin, is as clearly shown by the nationality of the titles, the
Gallicism of calling a love-letter a capon, the appearance of the
strong French negative, point, twice, and the use of seigneur instead of' signior.' Mr. Collier supposes, with some reason, that
the appearance of Armado and Holofernes in the dramatis personoe is indicative of an acquaintance with the early Italian
drama, in which the Spanish braggart and the pedant were
stereotyped characters; but Warburton'e declaration, that the
latter was a satire on John Florio, rests upon assumptions not
worthy of serious attention.
As there never was a Ferdinand, King of Navarre, and history
records no mortgage of any part of France to Navarre for war
expenses, the period of the action is quite indeterminable.*
The costume may therefore be the French dress of any period
before the end of the sixteenth century, for all the characters
except Armado (whose plumage should show some Spanish feathers) and Sir Nathaniel, Holofernes, and Dull, who are plainly an
English curate, an English schoolmaster, and an English thirdborough of Shakespeare's time.
The text of this play is but slightly corrupted, and that in
unimportant passages, in either the folio or the quarto edition.
A repetition of certain errors shows that the former was printed
from a copy of the latter. Mr. Collier remarks truly that the
folio adds some errors of its own; but he does not remark - perhaps because he failed to observe - that it corrects a great many
more than it makes. There are also variations which came from
another source than the quarto; and thus it is plain that although the folio itself was not exempt from accidents, these do
not invalidate its authenticity, or exempt us from the obligation
to accept its deliberate changes as authoritative, and to regard
the quarto only as auxiliary to the formation of the text.
* The Rev. Joseph Hunter has, however, pointed out a passage in Monstrelet's
Chronicles, which mentions a negotiation between the King of France and a
Charles of Navarre, that resulted in the obligation of the former to pay the
latter two hundred thousand crowns. New Illustrations, &c., Vol. I. p. 256.




DRAMATIS PERSON2E.
FERDINAND, King of Navarre.
BIRONE, 
LONGAVILLE,  Lords, attending on the King.
DUMAINE,  J
BOYET,
MERCADE,    Lords, attending on the Princess of France.
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a Spaniard.
SIR NATHANIEL, a Curate.
HOLOFERNES, a Schoolmaster.
DULL, a Constable.
COSTARD, a Clown.
MOTH, [or MOTE,] Page to Armado.
A Forester.
PRINCESS of France.
ROSALINE,  1
MARIA,
MKARIA,       Ladies, attending on the Princess.
KATHARINE, J
JAQUENETTA, a country Wench.
Officers and others, attendants on the King and Princess.
SCENE: Navarre.
(348)




LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
ACT I.
SCENE I. -Navarre. A Park, near a Palace.
Enter the KING, BIRONE, LONGAVILLE, and
DUMAINE.
KING.
LET fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge;
And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors! - for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires, -
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force.
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world:
Our Court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Birone, Dumaine, and Longaville,
(349)




350       LOVE'b LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT I.
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names,
That his own hand may strike his honour down
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
Longaville. I am resolv'd:'tis but a three years'
fast:
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine.
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits.
Dumaine.  My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified.
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,
With all these living in philosophy.
Birone. I can but say their protestation over;
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,That is, To live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances;
As, not to see a woman in that term,
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there:
And one day in a week to touch no food,
And but one meal on every day beside,
The which, I hope, is not enrolled there:
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day,
(When I was wont to think no harm all night,
And make a dark night, too, of half the day,)
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there.
O! these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.
King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                351
Bir.  Let me say no, my liege, an if you please.
I only swore to study with your Grace,
And stay here in your Court for three years' space.
Long. You swore to that, Birone, and to the rest.
Bir.  By yea, and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.
What is the end of study, let me know?
King.  Why, that to know which else we should
not know.
Bir.  Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?
King.  Ay, that is study's god-like recompense.
Bir.  Come on, then: I will swear to study so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know;
As thus,- to study where I well may dine,
When I to feast expressly am forbid;
Or study where to meet some mistress fine,
WThen mistresses from common sense are hid;
Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
If study's gain be thus, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know.
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.
King.  These be the stops that hinder study quite,
And train our intellects to vain delight.
Bir.  Why, all delights are vain; and that most
vain,
Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book,
To seek the light of truth; while truth, the while,
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.
Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing it upon a fairer eye;




352       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT (.
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk, and wot not what they are.
Too much to know is to know naught but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.
King.  How well he's read, to reason against reading!
Dum.  Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!
Long.  He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the
weeding.
Bir.  The Spring is near when green geese are a
breeding.
Dum. How follows that?
Bir.                   Fit in his place and time.
Dum. In reason nothing.
Bir.                 Something, then, in rhyme.
King.  Birone is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the Spring.
Bir.  Well, say I am: why should proud Summer boast,
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shews,
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you to study now; — it is too late:
That were to climb the house o'er to unlock the gate




SC. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               353
King.  Well, sit you out: go home, Birone:
adieu!
Bir.  No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay
with you:
And, though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore,
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper: let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
King.  How well this yielding rescues thee from
shame!
Bir. [Reads.]  "Item: That no woman shall come
within a mile of my Court."  Hath this been proclaimed?
Long.  Four days ago.
Bir.  Let's see the penalty.  [Reads.]  "On pain
of losing her tongue."- Who devis'd this penalty?
Long. Marry, that did I.
Bir.                      Sweet lord, and why?
Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
Bir. A dangerous law against gentility! [Reads.]
" Item: If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public
shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly devise."
This article, my liege, yourself must break;
For, well you know, here comes in embassy
The French King's daughter with yourself to speak, -
A maid of grace, and complete majesty,About surrender up of Aquitain
To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore, this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes th' admired Princess hither.
VOL. III.         W




354       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT I.
King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite
forgot.
Bir.  So study evermore is overshot:
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should;
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost.
King. We must of force dispense with this decree:
She must lie here, on mere necessity.
Bir.  Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years' space;
For every man with his affects is born;
Not by might master'd, but by special grace.
If I break faith, this word shall speak for me,
I am forsworn on mere necessity.So to the laws at large I write my name; [Subscribes.
And he that breaks them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternal shame.
Suggestions are to others as to me;
But, I believe, although I seem so loath,
I am the last that will last keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?
King.  Ay, that there is.  Our Court, you know,
is haunted
With a refined traveller of Spain;
A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain:
One, who the music of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;
A man of complements, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate
In high-born words the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.




SC. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                  355
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I,
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie,
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.
Bir.  Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
Long.  Costard, the swain, and he shall be our
sport;
And so to study; -three years is but short.
Enter DULL, with a letter, and COSTARD.
Dull. Which is the Duke's own person?
Bir.  This, fellow.  What would'st?
Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am
his Grace's tharborough: but I would see his own
person in flesh and blood.
Bir.  This is he.
Dull.  Signior Arme -  Arme -  commends you.
There's villainy abroad: this letter will tell you
more.
Costard. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.
King. A letter from the magnificent Armado.
Bir.  How low soever the matter, I hope in God
for high words.
Long.  A high hope for a low having: God grant
us patience!
Bir.  To hear, or forbear laughing?
Long.  To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both.
Bir.  Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us
cause to climb in the merriness.
Cost.  The matter is to me, sir, as concerning
Jaquenetta.  The manner of it is, I was taken with
the manner.
Bir.  In what manner?




356       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT I.
Cost.  In manner and form following, sir; all those
three: I was seen with her in the manor house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following
her into the Park; which, put together, is in manner and form following.  Now, sir, for the manner,
— it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman;
for the form, - in some form.
Bir.  For the following, sir?
Cost.  As it shall follow  in my correction; and
God defend the right!
King.  Will you hear this letter with attention?
Bir.  As we would hear an oracle.
Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken
after the flesh.
King. [Reads.] " Great Deputy, the welkin's vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's
earth's God, and body's fostering patron,-"
Cost.  Not a word of Costard yet.
King.  "So it is,-"
Cost.  It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is,
in telling true, but so.
King.  Peace!
Cost.  -be to me, and every man that dares not
fight.
King.  No words.
Cost.  — of other men's secrets, I beseech you.
King.  " So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour
to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air;
and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk.  The
time when?  About the sixth hour; when beasts most
graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. So much for the time
when.  Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I
walk'd upon: it is ycleped thy Park.  Then for the




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S  LOST.                357
place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from
my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here
thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest.  But to the
place, where: — it standeth north-north-east and by
east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base
minnow of thy mirth, -"
Cost. Me.
King. "-  that unletter'd small-knowing soul, -"
Cost. Me.
King. "-  that shallow vassal, -"
Cost.  Still me.
King. "- which, as I remember, hight Costard,-"
Cost.  O! me.
King. "- sorted and consorted, contrary to thy
established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with
- with, -  0! with -  but with this I passion to say
wherewith, -"
Cost. With a wench.
King. " —with a child of our grandmother Eve,
a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a
woman.  Him I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me
on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet Grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man
of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation."
Dull. Me, an't shall please you: I am Anthony Dull.
King.  " For Jaquenetta, (so is the weaker vessel
called,) which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,
I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury; and shall, at
the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine,
in all complements of devoted and heart-burning heat
of duty.              DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO."
Bir.  This is not so well as I looked for, but the
best that ever I heard.




358       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT I.
King.  Ay, the best for the worst.- But, sirrah,
what say you to this?
Cost.  Sir, I confess the wench.
King. Did you hear the proclamation?
Cost.  I do confess much of the hearing it, but
little of the marking of it.
King.  It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment
to be taken with a wench.
Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken
with a damosel.
King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel.
Cost.  This was no damosel neither, sir: she was
a virgin.
King. It is so varied, too, for it was proclaimed
virgin.
Cost.  If it were, I deny her virginity: I was
taken with a maid.
King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir.
Cost.  This maid will serve my turn, sir.
King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you
shall fast a week with bran and water.
Cost.  I had rather pray a moneth with mutton
and porridge.
King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. —
My lord Birone, see him deliver'd o'er:
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
[Exeunt KING, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE.
Bir.  I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.Sirrah, come on.
Cost.  I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I
was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true
girl; and, therefore, welcome the sour cup of pros



sc. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.              359
perity! Affliction may one day smile again; and until then, Sit down, Sorrow!              [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Park, near ARMADO'S House.
Enter ARMADO and MOTH.
Armado. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great
spirit grows melancholy?
Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
Arm. Why? sadness is one and the self-same
thing, dear imp.
Moth. No, no; 0 lord! sir, no.
Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working,
my tough seigneur.
Arm. Why tough seigneur? why tough seigneur?
Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent
epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we
may nominate tender.
Moth. And I, tough seigneur, as an appertinent
title to your old time, which we may name tough.
Arm. Pretty, and apt.
MJoth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt; or I apt, and my saying pretty?
Arm. Thou pretty, because little.
Moth. Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?
Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm. In thy condign praise.
Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise.




360       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT I.
Arm.  What, that an eel is ingenious?
Moth. That an eel is quick.
Arm.  I do say, thou art quick in answers.  Thou
heat'st my blood.
Moth. I am answer'd, sir.
Arm.  I love not to be cross'd.
Moth. [Aside.]  He speaks the mere contrary:
crosses love not him?
Arm.  I have promis'd to study three years with
the Duke.
Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.
Arm.  Impossible.
Moth. How many is one thrice told?
Arm.  I am ill at reck'ning: it fitteth the spirit
of a tapster.
Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir.
Arm.  I confess both: they are both the varnish
of a complete man.
Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the
gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.
Arm.  It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth. Which the base vulgar [do] call three.
Arm.  True.
Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study?
Now here's three studied ere you'll thrice wink; and
how easy it is to put years to the word three, and
study three years in two words, the dancing horse
will tell you.
Arm.  A most fine figure!
Moth. [Aside.]  To prove you a cipher.
Arm.  I will hereupon confess I am in love; and,
as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love
with a base wench.  If drawing my sword against
the humour of affection would deliver me from the
reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prison



sc. II.    LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.               361
er, and ransom  him  to any French courtier for a
new devis'd court'sy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy.
What great men have been in love?
Moth. Hercules, master.
Arm.  Most sweet Hercules! -  More authority,
dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them
be men of good repute and carriage.
Moth.  Samson, master: he was a man of good
carriage, great carriage; for he carried the town-gates
on his back, like a porter; and he was in love.
Arm.  0 well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou
didst me in carrying gates.  I am in love, too. Who
was Samson's love, my dear Moth?
Moth. A woman, master.
Arm.  Of what complexion?
Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two,
or one of the four.
Arm.  Tell me precisely of what complexion.
Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir.
Arm.  Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them
too.
Arm.  Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but
to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samson had
small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her
wit.
Moth. It was so, sir, for she had a green wit.
Arm.  My love is most immaculate white and red.
Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd
under such colours.
Arm.  Define, define, well-educated infant.
Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue,
assist me!
w2




362       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT I.
Arm.  Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty,
and pathetical!
Moth. If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:
Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the same,
Which native she doth owe.
A  dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
white and red.
Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and
the Beggar?
Moth.  The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since, but, I think, now'tis not
to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve
for the writing, nor the tune.
Arm.  I will have that subject newly writ o'er,
that I may example my digression by some mighty
precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl, that I
took in the Park with the rational hind Costard:
she deserves well.
JMoth.  [Aside.]  To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.
Arm. Sing, boy: my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that's great marvel, loving a light
wench.
Arm. I say, sing.
Moth. Forbear till this company be past.
Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQTUENETTA.
Dull. Sir, the Duke's pleasure is, that you keep
Costard safe: and you must let him take no delight,
nor no penance; but'a must fast three days a week.




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 363
For this damsel, I must keep her at the Park; she
is allow'd for the day-woman.  Fare you well.
Arm.  I do betray myself with blushing.- Maid.
Jaquenetta. Man.
Arm. I will visit thee at the Lodge.
Jaq.  That's hereby.
Arm. I know where it is situate.
Jaq.  Lord, how wise you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq.  With that face?
Arm. I love thee.
Jaq.  So I heard you say.
Arm. And so farewell.
Jaq.  Fair weather after you!
Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away.
[Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA.
Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere
thou be pardoned.
Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do
it on a full stomach.
Arm.  Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Cost.  I am more bound to you than your followers; for they are but lightly rewarded.
Arm.  Take away this villain: shut him up.
Moth. Come, you transgressing slave: away!
Cost.  Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast,
being loose.
Moth.  No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou
shalt to prison.
Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of
desolation that I have seen, some shall see —
Moth. What shall some see?
Cost. Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they
look upon. It is not for prisoners to be [too] silent
in their words; and therefore I will say nothing: I




364        LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT I.
thank God I have as little patience as another man,
and therefore I can be quiet.
[Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD.
Arm.  I do affect the very ground, (which is base,)
where her shoe, (which is baser,) guided by her foot,
(which is basest,) doth tread. I shall be forsworn,
(which is a great argument of falsehood,) if I love;
and how can that be true love which is falsely attempted?  Love is a familiar; Love is a devil: there
is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson so tempted; and he had an excellent strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he had  a very good wit.
Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club, and
therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The
first and second cause will not serve my turn: the
passado he respects not, the duello he regards not:
his disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is to
subdue men.  Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! be still,
drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth.
Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme! for, I am
sure, I shall turn sonnets.  Devise, wit! write, pen!
for I am for whole volumes in folio.           [Exit.




sC. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.              365
ACT II.
SCENE I. - Another Part of the Park. A Pavilion
and Tents at a distance.
Enter the PRINCESS of France, ROSALINE, MARIA,
KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, and Attendants.
BOYET.
N OW, Madam, summon up your dearest spirits.
Consider whom the King your father sends,
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitain, a dowry for a Queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace
As nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.
Princess. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though
but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues.
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker. — Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall out-wear three years,




366       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT II.
No woman may approach his silent Court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best moving fair solicitor.
Tell him the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Importunes personal conference with his Grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.
Boyet.  Proud of employment, willingly I go.
[Exit.
Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous Duke?
1 Lord.  Longaville is one.
Prin.                       Know you the man?
Maria.  I know  him, Madam:  at a marriage
feast,
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville.
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still
wills
It should none spare that come within his power.
Prin.  Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?
Mar.  They say so most that most his humours
know.




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                367
Prin.  Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they
grow.
Who are the rest?
Katharine.  The young Dumaine, a well-accomplish'd youth,
Of all that virtue love, for virtue lov'd:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill,
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though he had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once;
And much too little of that good I saw
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Rosaline.  Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Birone they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished,
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin.  God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar. Here comes Boyet.
Enter BOYET.
Prin.               Now, what admittance, lord?
Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,




368       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT II.
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learn'd,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his Court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre.             [The ladies mask,
Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAINE, BIRONE, and
Attendants.
King. Fair Princess, welcome to the Court of Navarre.
Prin.  Fair, I give you back again; and welcome
I have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to
be yours, and welcome to the wide fields too base to
be mine.
King. You  shall be welcome, Madam, to my
Court.
Prin. I will be welcome then.  Conduct me
thither.
King. Hear me, dear lady: I have sworn an oath.
Prin.  Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
King. Not for the world, fair Madam, by my will.
Prin.  Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.
King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin.  Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping:'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me; I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit. [Gives a paper.
King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.




SC. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                369
Prin.  You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay.
Bir.  Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Bir.  I know you did.
Ros.                  How needless was it then,
To ask the question!
Bir.                You must not be so quick.
Ros.'Tis'long of you, that spur me with such
questions.
Bir.  Your wit's too hot; it speeds too fast;'twill
tire.
Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
Bir.  What time o' day?
Ros. The hour that fools should ask.
Bir.  Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
Bir.  And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.
Bir. Nay, then will I begone.
King.  Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th' one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Receiv'd that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If, then, the King your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his Majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
VOL. III.            x




370       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT II,
An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain, so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding,'gainst some reason in my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.
Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.
King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.
Prin.                We arrest your word.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles, his father.
King.                Satisfy me so.
Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not
come,
Where that and other specialties are bound:
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.
King. It shall suffice me: at which interview,
All liberal reason would I yield unto.
Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness.
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deni'd fair harbour in my house.




SC. 1.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               371
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow we shall visit you again.
Prin.  Sweet health and fair desires consort your
Grace!
King.  Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!
[Exeunt KING and his train.
Bir. Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
Ros. Pray you, do my commendations; I would
be glad to see it.
Bir.  I would, you heard it groan.
Ros. Is the fool sick?
Bir.  Sick at the heart.
Ros. Alack! let it blood.
Bir.  Would that do it good?
Ros. My physic says, ay.
Bir.  Will you prick't with your eye?
Ros. No point, with my knife.
Bir.  Now, God save thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!
Bir.  I cannot stay thanksgiving.  [They retire.
Dum.  Sir, I pray you, a word. What lady is that
same?
Boyet. The heir of Alengon, Katharine her name.
Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit.
Long.  I beseech you a word. What is she in the
white?
Boyet.  A woman sometimes, if you saw her in the
light.
Long.  Perchance, light in the light.  I desire her
name.
Boyet.  She hath but one for herself; to desire
that, were a shame.
Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard.




372       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT II.
Long.  God's blessing on your beard!
Boyel. Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
Boyet. Not unlike, sir: that may be. [Exit LONGo.
Bir.  What's her name, in the cap?
Boyet. Rosaline, by good hap.
Bir.  Is she wedded, or no?
Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.
Bir.  0! you are welcome, sir. Adieu.
Boyet.  Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
[Exit BIRONE. - Ladies unmask.
Mar. That last is Birone, the merry mad-cap lord:
Not a word with him but a jest.
Boyet.               And every jest but a word.
Prin.  It was well done of you to take him at his
word.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to
board.
Mar.  Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boyet.                 And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
Boyet.  So you grant pasture for me.
[Offering to kiss her.
Malr.                      Not so, gentle beast.
My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
Mar.                    To my fortunes and me.
Prin.  Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles,
agree.
This civil war of wits were much better us'd
On Navarre and his book-men, for here'tis abus'd.




sc. I.    LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST.                373
Boyet. If my observation, (which very seldom lies,)
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin.  With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle affected.
Prin.  Your reason?
Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their
retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from whence they
were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him, for my sake, but one loving kiss.
Prin.  Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd.
Boyet.  But to speak that in words which his eye
hath disclos'd.
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.
Ros.  Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest
skilfully.
Mar.  He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news
of him.
Ros.  Then was Venus like her mother, for her
father is but grim.




374      LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT III.
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
Mar.                                   No.
Boyet.                 What then, do you see?
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet.                You are too hard for me.
[Exeunt.
ACT  III.
SCENE I. - Another Part of the Same.
Enter ARMADO and MOTH.
ARMADO.
WF       ARBLE, child: make passionate my sense of
hearing.
MOTH sings. - Concolinel.
Arm.  Sweet air! -Go, tenderness of years: take
this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him
festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter to
my love.
Moth. Will you win your love with a French
brawl?
Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in French?
Moth. No, my complete master; but to jig off a
tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with the feet;
humour it with turning up your eye; sigh a note,
and sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if
you swallowed love with  singing love, sometime
through the nose, as if you snuff'd up love by
smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the
shop of your eyes; with your arms cross'd on your




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               375
thin belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your
hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip
and away.  These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that would be
betrayed without these, and make them men of note,
(do you note, men?) that most are affected to these.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth. By my penny of observation.
Arm. But 0,-but 0,Moth. - the hobby-horse is forgot.
Arm.  Call'st thou my love hobby-horse?
Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt,
and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you
forgot your love?
Arm. Almost I had.
Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.
Moth. And out of heart, master; all those three
I will prove.
Arm. What wilt thou prove?
Moth. A man, if I live: and this, by, in, and
without, upon the instant: by heart you love her,
because your heart cannot come by her; in heart
you love her, because your heart is in love with
her; and out of heart you love her, being out of
heart that you cannot enjoy her.
Arm. I am all these three.
Moth. And three times as much more, and yet
nothing at all.
Arm.  Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me
a letter.
Moth. A message well sympathiz'd: a horse to
be ambassador for an ass.
Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?




376       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT III.
Moth.  Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon
the horse, for he is very slow-gaited: but I go.
Arm.  The way is but short.  Away!
Moth.  As swift as lead, sir.
Arm.  Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
Moth.  Minime, honest master; or rather, master,
no.
Arm.  I say, lead is slow.
Moth.          You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm.  Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth.            Thump, then, and I flee.  [Exit.
Arm.  A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of
grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd.
Enter MOTH with COSTARD.
Moth. A wonder, master! here's a Costard broken
in a shin.
Arm.  Some  enigma, some riddle: come, — thy
I'envoy; - begin.
Cost.  No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy! no salve
in them all, sir: 0, sir, plantain, a plain plantain!
no l'envoy, no l'envoy: no salve, sir, but a plantain.
Arm.  By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling.  0, pardon me, my
stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy,
and the word l'envoy for a salve?
Moth.  Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?




SC. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                377
Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue, or discourse,
to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral: now the l'envoy.
Moth.  I will add the I'envoy.  Say the moral
again.
Arm.  The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by [mak]ing four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with
my l'envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Arm.  Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by [mak]ing four.
Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose. Would
you desire more?
Cost.  The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose,
that's flat.Sir, your penny-worth is good, an your goose be
fat.To sell a bargain well is as cunning as'fast and
loose':
Let me see, a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
Arm.  Come hither, come hither. How did this
argument begin?
Moth.  By saying that a costard was broken in a
shin.
Then call'd you for the I'envoy.
Cost. True, and I for a plantain; thus came your
argument in;
x2




378       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT Ill.
Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,
And he ended the market.
Arm.  But tell me; how  was there a costard
broken in a shin?
Moth.  I will tell you sensibly.
Cost.  Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will
speak that l'envoy.
I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
Arm.  We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm.  Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
Cost.  0! marry me to one Frances?   I smell
some Z'envoy, some goose, in this.
Arm.  By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at
liberty, enfreedoming thy  person:  thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound.
Cost.  True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose.
Arm.  I give thee thy liberty, set thee [free] from
durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant to the country maid
Jaquenetta. There is remuneration; for the best ward
of mine honour is rewarding my dependants.  Moth,
follow.                                       [Exit.
Moth. Like the sequel, I. -Seigneur Costard, adieu.
Cost.  My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony
Jew! -                          Exit MOTH.
Now  will I look to his remuneration.  Remuneration! 0! that's the Latin word for three farthings:
three farthings, remuneration.' What's the price of
this inkle? a penny: — No, I'll give you a remuneration:' why, it carries it.-Remuneration!-why,
it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never
buy and sell out of this word.




8C. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 379
Enter BIRONE.
Bir.  0, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well
met.
Cost.  Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon
may a man buy for a remuneration?
Bir.  What is a remuneration?
Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.
Bir.  0! why then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
Cost.  I thank your worship.  God be wi' you.
Bir.  0, stay, slave! I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
Cost.  When would you have it done, sir?
Bir.  0! this afternoon.
Cost.  Well, I will do it, sir.  Fare you well.
Bir.  0! thou knowest not what it is.
Cost.  I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Bir.  Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cost.  I will come to your worship  to-morrow
morning.
Bir. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave!
It is but this: 
The Princess comes to hunt here in the Park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her
name,
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her,
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon: go.
Cost.  Gardon.- 0! sweet gardon! better than
remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better.  Most
sweet gardon     I will do it, sir, in print. - Gardon
- remuneration!                               [Exit.




380       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT III.
Bir.  O! —And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have
been Love's whip;
A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Don Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of cod-pieces,
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting paritors, (0, my little heart!)
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours, like a tumbler's hoop!
What?  I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright; being a watch,
But being watch'd, that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A witty wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by Heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her!  Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
CExit.




8C. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               381
ACT IV.
SCENE I. - Another Part of the Same.
Enter the PRINCESS, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE,
BOYET, Lords, Attendants, and a FORESTER.
PRINCESS.
W    AS that the King, that spurr'd his horse so
hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin.  Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting
mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
On Saturday we will return to France.Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For.  Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin.  I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin. What, what? first praise me, and then again
say, no?
0, short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For.  Yes, madam, fair.
Prin.                  Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true.
[Giving him money.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due..For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.




382       LOVE'S LABOUR'S  LOST.  ACT IV
Prin.  See, see! my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. —
But come, the bow: — now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes:
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?
Prin. Only for praise; and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
Enter COSTARD.
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
Cost.  God dig-you-den all.  Pray you, which is
the head lady?
Prin.  Thou shalt know  her, fellow, by the rest
that have no heads.
Cost.  Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.
Cost.  The thickest, and the tallest? it is so; truth
is truth.
An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should
be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest
here.




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                   383
Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your will?
Cost. I have a letter, from Monseer Biron to one
Lady Rosaline.
Prin.  0, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend
of mine.
Stand aside, good bearer. - Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
Boyet.               I am bound to serve. —
This letter is mistook; it importeth none here:
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Prin.                   We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
Boyet.  [Reads.]  "By Heaven, that thou art fair,
is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth
itself that thou art lovely.  More fairer than fair,
beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have
commiseration on thy heroical vassal!  The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eye upon
the pernicious and indubitate beggar Penelophon; and
he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici; which
to annotanize in the vulgar, (0 base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame: he came,
one; saw, two; overcame, three.  Who came? the
King; Why did he come? to see; Why did he see?
to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What
saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar.
The conclusion is victory: on whose side? the King's:
the captive is enrich'd: on whose side? the beggar's.
The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the
King's? - no, on both in one, or one in both. I am
the King; for so stands the comparison: thou the
beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.  Shall I command thy love?  I may.  Shall I enforce thy love?  I
could.  Shall I entreat thy love?  I will.  What shalt
thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles,




384       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT Iv.
for thyself? me.  Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and
my heart on thy every part.
Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO."
"Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den."
Prin.  What plume of feathers is he that indited
this letter?
What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear
better?
Boyet.  I am much deceiv'd, but I remember the
style.
Prin.  Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.
Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here
in Court;
A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the Prince, and his book-mates.
Prin.                      Thou, fellow, a word.
Who gave thee this letter?
Cost.                      I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?
Cost.                 From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord to which lady?
Cost.  From  my lord Birone, a good master of
mine,
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. -  Come,
lords, away. —




SC I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                385
Here, sweet, put up this:'twill be thine another day.
[Exeunt PRINCESS and Train.
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?
Ros.                Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros               Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but if thou
marry,
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
Ros.  Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet.                   And who is your deer?
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come
not near.
Finely put on, indeed! -
Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she
strikes at the brow.
Boyet. But she herself is hit lower.  Have I hit
her now?
Ros.  Shall I come upon thee with an old saying,
that was a man when King Pepin of France was a
little boy, as touching the hit it?
Boyet.  So I may answer thee with one as old,
that was a woman when Queen Guinever of Britain
was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
Ros. " Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man."
Boyet. "An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.",[Exeunt Ros. and KATH.
Cost. By my troth, most pleasant: how both did
fit it!
Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both
did hit [it].
VOL. III.         Y




386       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT Iv.
Boyet. A mark! 0! mark but that mark: a mark,
says my lady.
Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it
may be.
Mar.  Wide o' th' bow hand: i'faith your hand
is out.
Cost. Indeed,'a must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er
hit the clout.
Boyet.  An if my hand be out, then belike your
hand is in.
Cost.  Then will she get the upshot by cleaving
the pin.
Mar.  Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips
grow foul.
Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.
Boyet.  I fear too much rubbing.  Good night, my
good owl.       [Exeunt BOYET and MARIA.
Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down!
O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar
wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it
were, so fit.
Armado o' the to side, - 0, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly'a
will swear! -
And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, Heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
[Noise of shooting within.
Sola, sola!                       [Exit COSTARD.




SC. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                387
SCENE II.
The Same.
Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL.
Nathaniel.  Very reverend sport, truly; and done
in the testimony of a good conscience.
Holofernes.  The deer was, as you know, sanguis,
-- in blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth
like a jewel in the ear of cawlo,- the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth, like a crab, on the
face of terra, —the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath.  Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are
sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir,
I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
Hol.  Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull.'Twas not a haud credo,'twas a pricket.
Hol.  Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of
insinuation, as it were, in via, in way of explication,
facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare,
to show, as it were, his inclination, - after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained,
or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion,-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.
Dull.  I said the deer was not a haud credo:'twas
a pricket.
Hol.  Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!- 0, thou
monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thqu look!
Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that
are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it
were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not
replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in
the duller parts;




388       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV.
And such barren plants are set before us, that we
thankful should be
(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts
that do fructify in us more than he:
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,
or a fool,
So were there a patch set on learning, to see him
in a school:
But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,'Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.'
Dull. You two are book men: can you tell by
your wit,
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not
five weeks old as yet?
Hol.  Dictynna, good-man Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.
Dull.  What is Dictynna?
Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol.  The moon was a month old when Adam was
no more;
And raught not to five weeks, when he came to fivescore.
Th' allusion holds in the exchange.
Dull.'Tis true indeed: the collusion holds in the
exchange.
Hol.  God comfort thy capacity! I say, th' allusion holds in the exchange.
Dull.  And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old; and
I say beside, that'twas a pricket that the Princess
kill'd.
Hol.  Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal
epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour
the ignorant, call the deer the Princess kill'd, a
pricket?




SC. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 389
Nath.  Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so
it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
Hol.  I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
The preyful Princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty
pleasing pricket;
Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made
sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell; put L to sore, then sorel jumps
from thicket;
Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a
hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; 0
sore L!
Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one
more L.
NTath. A rare talent!
Dull.  If a talent be a claw, look how he claws
him with a talent.
Hol.  This is a gift that I have, simple; simply
a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures,
shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory,
nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and delivered
upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good
in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
Nath.  Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may
my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by
you, and their daughters profit very greatly under
you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.
Hol.  Mehercle! if their sons be ingenuous, they
shall want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them; but, vir sapit, qui pauca
loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth us.




390       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV.
Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD.
Jaq.  God give you good morrow, Master Person.
Hol. Master Person, - quasi pers-on.  And if one
should be pierc'd, which is the one?
Cost. Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likest
to a hogshead.
Hol.  Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of
conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint,
pearl enough for a swine:'tis pretty; it is well.
Jaq.  Good Master Parson, be so good as read me
this letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent
me from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it.
Hol.  " Fauste, precor gelidd quando pecus omne
sub umbrd
Ruminat," — and so forth.  Ah, good old Mantuan!
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
— " Venegia, Venegia,
Chi non te vede, non te pregia."
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth
thee not, loves thee not. - Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. -
Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as Horace says in his - What, my soul, verses?
Nath.  Ay, sir, and very learned.
Hol.  Let me hear a.staff, a stanza, a verse: lege,
domine.
Nath. [Reads.] "If love make me forsworn, how
shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed!
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers
bowed.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,
Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:




sc. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                  391
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire.
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful
thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire.
Celestial, as thou art, 0! pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings Heaven's praise  with  such an  earthly
tongue!
Hol.  You find not the apostrophes, and so miss
the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are
only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility,
and golden cadence of poesy, caret.  Ovidius Naso
was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of
invention?  Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound
his master, the ape his keeper, the'tired horse his
rider.  But, damosella, virgin, was this directed to
you?
Jaq.  Ay, sir, from  one Mounsier Birone, one of
the strange Queen's lords.
Hol.  I will overglance the superscript.  " To the
snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline."
I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for
the nomination of the party writing to the person
written unto: " Your ladyship's, in all desired employment, Birone." Sir Nathaniel, this Birone is one
of the votaries with the King; and here he hath
framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger Queen's,
which, accidentally, or by the way of progression,
hath miscarried. -  Trip and go, my sweet: deliver
this paper into the royal hand of the King; it may




392       LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT Iv.
concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive
thy duty: adieu.
Jaq.  Good Costard, go with me. - Sir, God save
your life!
Cost.  Have with thee, my girl.
[Exeunt COST. and JAQ.
Nath.  Sir, you have done this in the fear of God,
very religiously; and, as a certain Father saith —
Hol.  Sir, tell not me of the Father; I do fear
colourable colours. But, to return to the verses: did
they please you, Sir Nathaniel?
Nath.  Marvellous well, for the pen.
Hol.  I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain
pupil of mine; where if before repast it shall please
you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my
privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child
or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will
prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your
society.
Nath.  And thank you too; "for society," saith
the text, "is the happiness of life."
HIol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. — Sir, [to DULL,] I do invite you too:
you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the
gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.                                      [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another Part of the Same.
Enter BIRONE, with a paper.
Bir. The King he is hunting the deer; I am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in




sc. III.   LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.                 393
a pitch - pitch that defiles. Defile? a foul word.
Well, sit thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the
fool said; and so say I, and ay the fool. Well proved,
wit! By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it
kills sheep; it kills me, ay, a sheep. Well proved again
o' my side! I will not love; if I do, hang me: i'faith,
I will not. 0, but her eye! — by this light, but for
her eye, I would not love her! yes, for her two eyes.
Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my
throat. By Heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to
rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my
rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one
o' my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent
it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter fool,
sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin
if the other three were in.  Here comes one with a
paper: God give him  grace to groan!
[Gets up into a tree.
Enter the KING, with a paper.
King.  Ay me!
Bir. [Aside.] Shot, by Heaven! -  Proceed, sweet
Cupid: thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. — In faith, secrets!
King.  [Reads.]  So sweet a kiss the golden sun
gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep:
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
y2




394       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT IV.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will show:
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
M/y tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
0 Queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.
How shall she know my griefs?  I'll drop the paper.
Sweet leaves, shade folly.  Who is he comes here?
Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper.
[Aside.] What, Longaville! and reading? listen, ear.
Steps aside.
Bir.  Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
Long.  Ay me! I am forsworn.
Bir.  Why, he comes in like a perjurer, wearing
papers.
King.  In  love, I hope.  Sweet fellowship  in
shame!
Bir.  One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long.  Am I the first that have been perjur'd so?
Bir.  I could put thee in comfort: not by two
that I know.
Thou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,
The shape of Love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.
Long.  I fear these stubborn lines lack power to
move.
O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Bir.  0! rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's
hose:
Disfigure not his slop.
Long.                 This same shall go.[He reads the sonnet.




SC. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                395
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, Iforswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
T7hen thou, fair sun, which on my earth do'st
shine,
Exhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then, it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath, to win a paradise?
Bir. [Aside.]  This is the liver vein, which makes
flesh a deity;
A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend  we are much out o' th'
way.
Enter DUMAINE, with a paper.
Long.  By whom shall I send this? -  Company!
stay.                           [Steps aside.
Bir. All hid, all hid; an old infant play.
Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.'More sacks to the mill'! 0 Heavens! I have my
wish:
Dumaine transform'd? four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum.  0 most divine Kate!
Bir.  0 most profane coxcomb!
Dum.  By Heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Bir. By Earth, she is not: Corporal, there you lie.




396       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT IV.
Dum. Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted.
Bir.  An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
Dum.  As upright as the cedar.
Bir.                             Stoop, I say:
Her shoulder is with child.
Dum.                      As fair as day.
Bir.  Ay, as some days; but then no sun must
shine.
Dum.  0, that I had my wish!
Long.                           And I had mine.
King.  And I mine too, good Lord!
Bir.  Amen, so I had mine.  Is not that a good
word?
Dum.  I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.
Bir.  A fever in your blood? why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!
Dum.  Once more I'll read the ode that I have
writ.
Bir.  Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
Dum.  On a day, (alack the day!)
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen,'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack! my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.




SC. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.              397
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou, for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
0, would the King, Birone, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.
Long. [Advancing.] Dumaine, thy love is far from
charity,
That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.
King.  [Advancing.]  Come, sir, you blush; as
his your case is such;
You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion,
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth;
[ To LONGAVILLE.
And Jove for your love would infringe an oath.
[To DUMAINE.




398       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT IV.
What will Birone say, when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.
Bir.  Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.[Descends.
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:
Good heart! what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears:
You'll not be perjur'd,'tis a hateful thing:
Tush! none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?
You found his mote; the King your mote did
see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
0! what a scene of fool'ry have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!
0 me! with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a King transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon to tune a jig,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief? 0! tell me, good Dumaine:
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:A candle, hoa!
King.        Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
Bir.  Not you to me, but I betray'd by you:




sc. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               399
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in;
I am betray'd, by keeping company
With men like men, of [strange] inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhymer
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me?  When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb? —
King.            Soft! Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
Bir.  I post from Love: good lover, let me go.
Enter JAQtUENETTA and COSTARD.
Jaq.  God bless the King!
King.             What present hast thou there?
Cost.  Some certain treason.
King.                 What makes treason here?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
King.                  If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.
Jaq.  I beseech  your Grace, let this letter be
read:
Our parson misdoubts it;'twas treason, he said.
King.  Birone, read it over.
[BIRONE reads the letter.
Where hadst thou it?
Jaq.  Of Costard.
King.  Where hadst thou it?
Cost.  Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
King.  How now! what is in you? why dost thou
tear it?
Bir.  A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs
not fear it.




400       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT IV.
Long.  It did move him to passion, and therefore
let's hear it.
Dum.  It is Birone's writing, and here is his name.
[Picking up the pieces.
Bir. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! [To CosTARD.]  yOU were born to do me shame.Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.
King.  What?
Bir.  That you three fools lack'd me, fool, to make
up the mess.
He, he, and you, and you my liege, and I,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.! dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum.  Now the number is even.
Bir.                  True, true; we are four.Will these turtles be gone?
King.                      Hence, sirs: away!
Cost.  Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors
stay.    [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA.
Bir.  Sweet lords, sweet lovers, 0! let us embrace.
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be:
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven will shew  his
face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
We cannot cross the cause why we are born;
Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn.
King.  What, did these rent lines show some love
of thine?
Bir.  Did they? quoth you. Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head, and, stricken blind,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?




sc. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                  401
What peremptory, eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty?
King.  What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee
now?
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon,
She, an attending star, scarce seen a light.
Bir.  My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Birone.
0! but for my love, day would turn to night.
Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,Fie, painted rhetoric! 0! she needs it not:
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;
She passes praise; then praise too short doth
blot.
A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,
And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy.
O!'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine!
King.  By Heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
Bir.  Is ebony like her?  0 wood divine!
A wife of such wood were felicity.
0! who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
King.  0 paradox! Black is the badge of Hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the shade of night,
And, beauty's crest, becomes the heavens well.
Bir. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of
light.
VOL. III.             Z




402       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV.
0! if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns, that painting, [and] usurping hair,
Should ravish doters with a false aspect;
And therefore is she born to make black fair.
Her favour turns the fashion of the days;
For native blood is counted painting now,
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
Dum.  To  look  like her are  chimney-sweepers
black.
Long.  And since her time are colliers counted
bright.
King.  And Ethiops of their sweet complexion
crack.
Dum.  Dark needs no candles now, for dark is
light.
Bir.  Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
For fear their colours should be wash'd away.
King.'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell
you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
Bir.  I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday
here.
King.  No devil will fright thee then so much as
she.
Dum.  I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
Long.  Look, here's thy love: my foot and her
face see.
Bir.  0! if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
Dum.  0 vile! then, as she goes, what upward
lies
The street should see, as she walk'd over head.
King.  But what of this?  Are we not all in love?
Bir.  O! nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.




SC. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.              403
King.  Then leave this chat: and, good Birone,
now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
Dum. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.
Long.  O! some authority how to proceed;
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the Devil.
Dum.  Some salve for perjury.
Bir.!'tis more than need.
Have at you, then, affection's men at arms.
Consider what you first did swear unto;To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young;
And abstinence engenders maladies.
And where that you have vow'd to study, lords,
In that each of you hath forsworn his book,
Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look?
For when would you, my lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of study's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They are the ground, the books, the Academes,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, universal plodding prisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion, and long-during action, tires
The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes,
And study, too, the causer of your vow;
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches such learning as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewise is:
Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes,




404       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV.
With ourselves,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
0! we have made a vow to study, lords,
And in that vow we have forsworn our books;
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation have found out
Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes
Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain,
And therefore, finding barren practisers,
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil;
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain,
But with the motion of all elements
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails:
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste.
For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
Subtle as Sphinx? as sweet, and musical,
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair?
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs;
O! then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:




sc. III.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                405
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the Academes,
That shew, contain, and nourish all the world,
Else none at all in aught proves excellent.
Then, fools you were these women to forswear,
Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love,
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men,
Or for men's sake, the authors of these women,
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men,
Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves,
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths.
It is religion to be thus forsworn;
For charity itself fulfils the law,
And who can sever love from charity?
King.  Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the
field!
Bir.  Advance your standards, and upon them,
lords!
Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advis'd,
In conflict that you get the sun of them.
Long.  Now to plain-dealing: lay these glozes by.
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
King.  And win them too: therefore, let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
Bir.  First, from  the Park let us conduct them
thither;
Then, homeward, every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Fore-run fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.




406       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
Bir.  Allons! allons!-Sow'd cockle regp'd no
corn;
And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn:
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. -Another Part of the Same.
Enter HOLOFERNES, Sir NATHANIEL, and DULL,.
HiOLOFERNES.
A TIS quod suficit.. Nath. I praise God for you, sir: your reasons
at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant
without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious
without impudency, learned without opinion, and
strange without heresy.  I did converse this quondam  day with a companion of the King's, who is
intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.
Hol.  Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is
lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his
eye ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general
behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is
too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it
were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
Nath.  A most singular and choice epithet.
[Draws out his table-book.
Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 407
finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such
fanatical phantasms, such insociable and point-devise
companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak,
dout, fine, when he should say, doubt; det, when he
should pronounce, debt - d e b t, not d e t: he clepeth a'calf,' cauf;'half,' hauf;'neighbour' vocatur,
nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This is ab-hominable,
(which he would call abominable,) it insinuateth me
of insanie: ne intelligis, domine?- to make frantic,
lunatic.
Nath.  Laus Deo, bone intelligo.
Hol.  Bone? - bone, for bene: Priscian a little
scratch'd;'twill serve.
Enter ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD.
Nath. Videsne quis venit?
Hol.  Video, et gaudeo.
Arm. Chirrah!                        [To MOTH.
Hol.  Quare'chirrah,' not' sirrah'?
Arm. Men of peace, well encounter'd.
Hol.  Most military sir, salutation.
Moth. They have been at a great feast of languages,
and stolen the scraps.
Cost. O! they have liv'd long on the alms-basket
of words.  I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee
for a word; for thou art not so long by the head
as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.
Moth. Peace! the peal begins.
Arm.  Monsieur, [to HOL.] are you not letter'd?
Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book.
— What is a, b, spelt backward with the horn on
his head?
Hol.  Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.




408       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
Moth. Ba! most silly sheep, with a horn. -You
hear his learning.
Hol.  Quis, quis, thou consonant?
Moth.  The third of the five vowels, if you repeat
them; or the fifth, if I.
Hol. I will repeat them, a, e, i,Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it; o, u.
Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterranean,
a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit! snip, snap, quick
and home: it rejoiceth my intellect; true wit!
Moth.  Offered by a child to an old man; which
is wit-old.
Hol.  What is the figure? what is the figure?
Moth.  Horns.
Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.
Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I
will whip about your infamy circum  circd.  A gig
of a cuckold's horn!
Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is
the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion.
0! an the heavens were so pleased, that thou wert
but my bastard, what a joyful father would'st thou
make me. Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the
fingers' ends, as they say.
Hol.  0! I smell false Latin;' dunghill' for unguem.
Arm. Arts-man, prceambula: we will be singled
from the barbarous.  Do you not educate youth at
the charge-house on the top of the mountain?
Hol.  Or mons, the hill.
Arm. At your sweet pleasure for the mountain.
Hol. I do, sans question.
Arm. Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure




sc. I.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 409
and affection, to congratulate the Princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude
multitude call the afternoon.
Hol.  The posterior of the day, most generous sir,
is liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon:
the word is well cull'd, chose; sweet and apt, I do
assure you, sir; I do assure.
Arm.  Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my
familiar, I do assure you, very good friend. - For
what is inward between us, let it pass. - [To CosT.]
I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy; [to HoL.]
-I beseech thee, apparel thy head: -  and among
other importunate and most serious designs, -  and
of great import indeed, too, - but let that pass; -
for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace (by the
world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and
with his royal finger, thus dally with my excrement,
with my mustachio: but, sweet heart, let that pass.
By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special
honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the
world; but let that pass.- The very all of all is,
— but sweet heart, I do implore secrecy, - that the
King would have me present the Princess, sweet
chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or
pageant, or antic, or fire-work.  Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at
such eruptions, and sudden breaking out of mirth,
as it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end
to crave your assistance.
Hol.  Sir, you shall present before her the Nine
Worthies. — Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of
this day, to be rendered by our assistance, — the
King's command, and this most gallant, illustrate,
z2




410       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
and learned gentleman, —before the Princess, I say,
none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough
to present them?
Hol. Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabeus; this swain, (because of his
great limb or joint,) shall pass Pompey the Great;
the page, Hercules.
Arm. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough
for that worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end
of his club.
Hol. Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that
purpose.
Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry,' Well done, Hercules! now
thou crushest the snake!' that is the way to make
an offence gracious; though few have the grace to
do it.
Arm.  For the rest of the Worthies?
Hol. I will play three myself.
Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol. We attend.
Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic.
I beseech you, follow.
Hol.  Via! —  Goodman Dull, thou hast spoken
no word all this while.
Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.
Hol.  Allons! we will employ thee.
Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will
play on the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance
the hay.
Hol.  Most dull, honest Dull. To our sport, away!
[Exeunt.




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.              411
SCENE II.
Another Part of the Same.  Before the PRINCESS'S
Pavilion.
Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and
MARIA.
Prin.  Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall'd about with diamonds!Look you, what I have from the loving King.
Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin. Nothing but this? yes; as much love in
rhyme,
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.
Ros.  That was the way to make his god-head
wax;
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Ros., You'll ne'er be friends with him: he kili'd
your sister.
Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
And so she died: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might ha' been a grandam ere she died;
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this
light word?
Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark.
Ros. We need more light to find your meaning
out.




412       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
Kath. You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument.
Ros.  Look, what you do, you do it still i' th'
dark.
Kath.  So do not you, for you are a light wench.
Ros.  Indeed, I weigh not you, and therefore light.
Kath. You weigh me not?-O! that's you care
not for me.
Ros. Great reason; for,' past cure is still past
care.'
Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?
Ros.                        I would you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great: be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Birone.
The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O! he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
Prin.  Any thing like?
Ros. Much, in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Prin.  Beauteous as ink: a good conclusion.
Kath.  Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
Ros.'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your
debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
0, that your face were not so full of O's!
Prin.  A  pox of that jest! and I beshrew  all
shrews!
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?
Kath.  Madam, this glove.
Prin.               Did he not send you twain?




SC. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               413
Kath. Yes, madam; and, moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover:
A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity.
Mar.  This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
The letter is too long by half a mile.
Prin.  I think no less.  Dost thou not wish in
heart,
The chain were longer, and the letter short?
Mar.  Ay, or I would these hands might never
part.
Prin.  We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Birone I'll torture ere I go.
0! that I knew he were but in by th' week!
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes,
And shape his service wholly to my behests,
And make him proud to make me proud that jests 
So persaunt-like would I o'ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Prin.  None are so surely caught, when they are
catch'd,
As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school,
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such
excess,
As gravity's revolt to wantonness.
Mar.  Folly in fools bears not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the wise, when wit doth dote;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove by wit worth in simplicity.




414       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
Enter BOYET.
Prin.  Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boyet. 0! I am stabb'd with laughter? Where's
her Grace?
Prin.  Thy news, Boyet?
Boyet.                Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace. Love doth approach disguis'd,
Armed in arguments: you'll be surpris'd.
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Prin.  St. Dennis to St. Cupid! What are they,
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour,
When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The King and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear;
That by and by disguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage:
Action, and accent, did they teach him there;
"Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear:"
And ever and anon they made a doubt
Presence majestical would put him out;
"For," quoth the King, "an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously."
The boy replied, "An angel is not evil;
T should have fear'd her, had she been a devil."
With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoul.
der,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.




sc. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               415
One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd and swore
A better speech was never spoke before:
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd "Via! we will do't, come what will come:"
The third he caper'd and cried, "All goes well:"
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.
Prin.  But what, but what? come they to visit
us?
Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess,
Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance;
And every one his love-suit will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours several which they did bestow.
Prin.  And will they so? the gallants shall be
task'd;
For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd,
And not a man of them  shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. -
Hold, Rosaline; this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the King will court thee for his dear:
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Birone take me for Rosaline.And change your favours, too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Ros.  Come on then: wear the favours most in
sight.
Kath.  But in this changing, what is your intent?
Prin.  The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.




416       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display'd, to talk, and greet.
Ros.  But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Prin.  No; to the death we will not move a foot:
Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace;
But, while'tis spoke, each turn away her face.
Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's
heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Prin.  Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,
The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out.
There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game;
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.
[Trumpets sound within.
Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask'd, the maskers come.                 [The Ladies mask.
Enter the KING, BIRONE, LONGAVILLE, and DuMAINE, in Russian habits, and masked; MOTH,
Musicians, and Attendants.
Moth.  "All hail, the richest beauties on the
earth! 
Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
Moth.  "A  holy parcel of the fairest dames,
[The Ladies turn their backs to him.
"That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views!
Bir.  "Their eyes," villain, "their eyes."
Moth.  " That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal
views!;' Out
Boyet. True; "out," indeed.




sc. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.             417
Moth. "Out of your favours, heavenly spirits,
vouchsafe
"Not to beholdBir.  "Once to behold," rogue.
Moth. "Once to behold with your sun-beamed
eyes,
"- - with your sun-beamed eyes-"
Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes.
Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings
me out.
Bir. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.
Ros. What would these strangers? know  their
minds, Boyet.
If they do speak our language,'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.
Boyet. What would you with the Princess?
Bir. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. What would they, say they?
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be
gone.
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be
gone.
King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on this grass.
Boyet. They say, that they have measur'd many
a mile,
To tread a measure with you on this grass.
Ros. It is not so: ask them how many inches
Is in one mile? if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
Boyet. If, to come hither you have measur'd
miles,
VOL. III.       A A




418       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
And many miles, the Princess bids you tell,
How many inches do fill up one mile.
Bir. Tell her we measure them  by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears herself.
Ros.                    How many weary steps,
Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?
Bir.  We number nothing  that we spend for
you:
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.
Ros.  My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King.  Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds
do!
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine
(Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyne.
Ros.  0, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;'hou now request'st but moonshine in the water.
King.  Then, in our measure, vouchsafe but one
change.
rhou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange.
Ros. Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon.
[Music plays.
Not yet; -no dance: — thus change I like the
moon.
King. Will you not dance? How came you thus
estranged?
Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she's
changed.
King.  Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays: vouchsafe some motion to it.
Ros.  Our ears vouchsafe it.
King.                But your legs should do it.




sc. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               419
Ros.  Since you are strangers, and come here by
chance,
We'll not be nice. Take hands: — we will not dance.
King.  Why take you hands then?
Ros.                     Only to part friends. —
Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King.  More measure of this measure: be not nice.
Ros.  We can afford no more at such a price.
King. Prize you yourselves? What buys your
company?
Ros.  Your absence only.
King.                       That can never be.
Ros. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu.
Twice to your visor, and half once to you!
King.  If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Ros.  In private then.
King.                I am best pleas'd with that.
[TThey converse apart.
Bir.  White-handed mistress, one sweet word with
thee.
Prin.  Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are
three.
Bir.  Nay, then, two treys, (an if you grow so
nice,)
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey. —Well run, dice!
There's half a dozen sweets.
Prin.                      Seventh sweet, adieu.
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.
Bir.  One word in secret.
Prin.                       Let it not be sweet.
Bir.  Thou griev'st my gall.
Prin.                         Gall? bitter.
Bir.                             Therefore meet.
[They converse apart.
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a
word?




420       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
Mar. Name it.
Dum.             Fair lady, 
Mar.                 Say you so?  Fair lord.Take that for your fair lady.
Dum.                       Please it you,
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
[They converse apart.
Kath.  What, was your visor made without a
tongue?
Long.  I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Kath.  0, for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless visor half.
Kath.  Veal, quoth the Dutchman.- Is not veal
a calf?
Long. A calf, fair lady?
Kath.                     No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let's part the word.
Kath.                No; I'll not be your half:
Take all, and wean it: it may prove an ox.
Long.  Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp
mocks.
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Kath.  Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
Kath.  Bleat softly then: the butcher hears you
cry.                   [They converse apart.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as
keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
Above the sense of sense, so sensible
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter
things.




sc. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               421
Ros. Not one word more, my maids: break off,
break off.
Bir.  By Heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
King.  Farewell, mad wenches: you have simple
wits.    [Exeunt KING, Lords, MOTH, Music,
and Attendants.
Prin.  Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. —
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Boyet.  Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths
puff'd out.
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross;
fat, fat.
Prin.  0, poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night,
Or ever, but in visors, show their faces?
This pert Birone was out of count'nance quite.
Ros. They were all in lamentable cases!
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin.  Birone did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar. Dumaine was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I: my servant straight was mute.
Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you, what he call'd me?
Prin.                           Qualm, perhaps.
Kath.  Yes, in good faith.
Prin.                  Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statutecaps.
But will you hear? the King is my love sworn.
Prin.  And quick Birone hath plighted faith to
me.
Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar. Dumaine is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty Mistresses, give ear.
Immediately they will again be here




422       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
In their own shapes; for it can never be
They will digest this harsh indignity.
Prin.  Will they return?
Boyet.         They will, they will, God knows;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.
Prin.  How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
Boyet.  Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud:
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shewn.
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
Prin.  Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
Ros.  Good Madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mock them still, as well, known, as disguis'd.
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were, and to what end
Their shallow shews, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
Prin.  Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.
[Exeunt PRINCESS, Ros., KATH., and MARIA.
Enter the KING, BIRONE, LONGAVILLE, and DuMAINE, in their proper habits.
King.  Fair sir, God save you! Where's the Princess?
Boyet.  Gone to her tent: please it your Majesty,
command me any service to her?
King.  That she vouchsafe me audience for one
word.
Boyet.  I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
[Exit.




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               423
Bir. This fellow picks up wit as pigeons peas,
And utters it again when Jove doth please.
He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such shew.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve:
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.
He can carve, too, and lisp: why, this is he
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy:
This is the ape of form, Monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To shew his teeth as white as whales-bone;
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of'honey-tongued Boyet.'
King.  A blister on his sweet tongue, with my
heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.
Bir.  See where it comes! - Behaviour, what wert
thou,
Till this man shew'd thee? and what art thou now?
King.  All hail, sweet Madam, and fair time of
day!
Prin.  Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then wish  me better: I will give you
leave.




424      LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v.
King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our Court: vouchsafe it, then.
Prin.  This field shall hold me, and so hold your
vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men.
King.  Rebuke me not for that which you provoke;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue; vice you should have
spoke;
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King.  0! you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited; much to our shame.
Prin.  Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear:
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game.
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, Madam! Russians?
Prin.                    Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros. Madam, speak true. - It is not so, my lord:
My lady (to the manner of the days)
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
Bir. This jest is dry to me. - [My] gentle sweet,




sc. II.    LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.               425
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, Heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Ros.  This proves you wise and rich, for in my
eye,
Bir.  I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Bir.  O! I am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros. All the fool mine?
Bir.                      I cannot give you less.
Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore?
Bir.  Where? when? what visor? why demand
you this?
Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face.
King.  [Aside.]  We are descried: they'll mock
us now downright.
Dum. [Aside.] Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
Prin.  Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your Highness sad?
Ros. Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. Why
look you pale?Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
Bir.  Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hold longer out?Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
AA2




426       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue;
Nor never come in visor to my friend;
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song;
Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affection,
Figures pedantical: these summer flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forswear them; and I here protest,
By this white glove, (how white the hand, God
knows,)
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
In russet'yeas,' and honest kersey'noes':
And, to begin, -wench, so God help me, la!
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros.  Sans' sans,' I pray you.
Bir.                            Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage: - bear with me, I am  sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft! let us see: —
Write "Lord have mercy on us" on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.
Prin.  No, they are free that gave these tokens
to us.
Bir.  Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
Bir. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.
Ros.  Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Bir.  Speak for yourselves: my wit is at an end.
King.  Teach us, sweet Madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               427
Prin.           The fairest is confession.
Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?
King. Madam, I was.
Prin.               And were you well advis'd?
King. I was, fair Madam.
Prin.                When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?
King. That more than all the world I did respect
her.
Prin.  When she shall challenge this, you will
reject her.
King. Upon mine honour, no.
Prin.                    Peace! peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of
mine.
Prin.  I will; and therefore keep it.- Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear
As precious eye-sight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin.  God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honorably doth uphold his word.
King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my
troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
Ros. By Heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
King. My faith, and this, the Princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Prin.  Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Birone, I thank him, is my dear.What! will you have me, or your pearl again?
Bir.  Neither of either; I remit both twain. 




428       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
I see the trick on't:- here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she's dispos'd,
Told our intents before; which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn —in will, and error.
Much upon this it is: - and might not you
[To BOYET.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squire,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.
Boyet.                      Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Bir.  Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have
done.
Enter COSTARD.
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost.  O Lord, sir, they would know,
Whether the three Worthies shall come in, or no.
Bir.  What, are there but three?
Cost.               No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
Bir.              And three times thrice is nine.




sc. Ir.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                 429
Cost.  Not so, sir; under correction, sir, I hope,
it is not so.
You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we
know what we know:
I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,Bir.                                 Is not nine.
Cost.  Under correction, sir, we know  whereuntil
it doth amount.
Bir.  By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
Cost. 0 Lord! sir, it were pity you should get
your living by reckoning, sir.
Bir.  How much is it?
Cost. 0 Lord! sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for
mine own part, I am, as they say, but to pursent one
man, - e'en one poor man - Pompion the Great, sir.
Bir.  Art thou one of the Worthies?
Cost. It pleased them  to think me worthy of
Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not
the degree of the Worthy, but I am  to stand for
him.
Bir.  Go, bid them prepare.
Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir: we will take
some care.                   [Exit COSTARD.
King.  Birone, they will shame us; let them not
approach.
Bir.  We are shame-proof, my lord; and'tis some
policy
To have one shew worse than the King's and his
company.
King.  I say, they shall not come.
Prin.  Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you
now.
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents




430       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v.
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Bir.  A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter ARMADO.
Arm.  Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy
royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
[ARMADO converses with the KING, and
delivers a paper to him.
Prin.  Doth this man serve God?
Bir.  Why ask you?
Prin.  He speaks not like a man of God's making.
Arm.  That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the School-master is exceeding
fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will
put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish
you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!
[Exit ARMADO.
King.  Here is like to be a good presence of
Worthies.  He presents Hector of Troy; the swain,
Pompey the Great; the Parish Curate, Alexander;
Armado's page, Hercules; the Pedant, Judas Maccabeus.
And if these four Worthies in their first shew thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other
five.
Bir.  There is five in the first shew.
King.  You are deceived;'tis not so.
Bir.  The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-priest,
the fool, and the boy:Abate throw at Novem, and the whole world again,
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in's vein.
King.  The ship is under sail, and here she comes
amain.




sC. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               431
Enter COSTARD armed, for Pompey.
Cost.  "I Pompey am, -
Boyet.                  You lie, you are not he.
Cost.  "I Pompey am,Boyet.             With libbard's head on knee.
Bir.  Well said, old mocker: I must needs be
friends with thee.
Cost. " I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big, -
Dum. The Great.
Cost. It is great, sir;   " Pompey surnam'd the
Great;
"That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make
my foe to sweat:
"And travelling along this coast I here am come by
chance,
"And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass
of France."
If your ladyship would say,'Thanks, Pompey,' I had
done.
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.
Cost.'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was
perfect. I made a little fault in'great.'
Bir.  My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the
best Worthy.
Enter Sir NATHANIEL armed, for Alexander..Nath. "When in the world I liv'd, I was the
world's commander;
"By East, West, North, and South, I spread my
conquering might:
"My'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander." 
Boyet.  Your nose says, no, you are not; for it
stands too right.




432       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v
Bir.  Your nose smells, no, in this, most tendersmelling knight.
Prin.  The conqueror is dismay'd.  Proceed, good
Alexander.
Nath.  "When in the world I liv'd, I was the
world's commander; "
Boyet. Most true;'tis right: you were so, Alisander.
Bir.  Pompey the Great, —
Cost. Your servant, and Costard.
Bir. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
Cost.  0! sir, [to NATH.] you have overthrown
Alisander the conqueror. You will be scrap'd out
of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds
his pole-axe sitting on a close stool, will be given
to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak? run away for shame, Alisander.  [NATH. retires.]  There, an't shall please
you: a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you,
and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth, and a very good bowler; but, for
Alisander, alas! you see, how'tis; — a little o'erparted. - But there are Worthies a coming will speak
their mind in some other sort.
Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. [Exit COSTARD.
Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas, and MOTH
armed, for Hercules.
Hol.  "Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
"Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed
canis;
"And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
" Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.
" Quoniam, he seemeth in minority,
"Ergo, I come with this apology."



sc. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               433
[To MOTH.]  Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.                           [Exit MOTH.
"Judas I am, -
Dum. A Judas!
Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. 
"Judas I am, ycleped Maccabeus.Dum. Judas Maccabeus clipp'd is plain Judas.
Bir.  A  kissing traitor. —How art thou prov'd
Judas?
Hol. "Judas I am,Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you, sir?
Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir: you are my elder.
Bir.  Well follow'd: Judas was hang'd on an elder.
Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Bir. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this?
Boyet. A cittern head.
Dum. The head of a bodkin.
Bir.  A death's face in a ring.
Long. The face of an old Roman coin scarce seen.
Boyet. The pommel of Caesar's faulchion.
Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
Bir.  St. George's half-cheek in a brooch.
Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
Bir. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Bir.  False: we have given thee faces.
Hol.  But you have out-fac'd them all.
Bir. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?
VOL. III.        B B




434       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v.
Dum. For the latter end of his name.
Bir.  For the ass to the Jude? give it him:Jud-as, away.
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark;
he may stumble.
Prin.  Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been
baited!
Enter ARMADO, armed, for Hector.
Bir.  Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.
Dum.  Though my mocks come home by me, I
will now be merry.
King.  Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?
KIing.  I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Long.  His leg is too big for Hector's.
Dum.  More calf, certain.
Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Bir.  This cannot be Hector.
Dum.  He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
Arm.  "The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Bir. A lemon.
Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum.  No, cloven.
Arm.  [Peace!]
"The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea,
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower, -




sc. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                435
Dum.               That mint.
Long                           That columbine.
Arm.  Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs
against Hector.
Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten:
sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried:
[when he breathed, he was a man.] — But I will
forward with my device. Sweet royalty, bestow on
me the sense of hearing.        [BIRONE goes out.
Prin.  Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.
Arm.  I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper.
Boyet.  Loves her by the foot.
Dum. He may not by the yard.
Arm.  "This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,Enter COSTARD, hastily and unarmed, and BIRONE
after him.
Cost. The party is gone: fellow Hector, she is
gone; she is two moneths on her way.
Arm. What meanest thou?
Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan,
the poor wench is cast away: she's quick: the child
brags in her belly already,'tis yours.
Arm.  Dost thou infamonize me among potentates?
Thou shalt die.
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Jaquenetta that is quick by him, and hang'd for Pompey
that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet.  Renowned Pompey!
Bir.  Greater than great; -  great, great, great
Pompey! Pompey the huge!




436       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V
Dum. Hector trembles.
Bir.  Pompey is moved. - More Ates, more Ates 
stir them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
Bir.  Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's
belly than will sup a flea.
Arm. By the North Pole, I do challenge thee.
Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. — I
pray you, let me borrow my arms again.
Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies!
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.
Dum. Most resolute Pompey!
Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower.
Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat?
What mean you? you will lose your reputation.
Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will
not combat in my shirt.
Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made
the challenge.
Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Bir.  What reason have you for't?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt.
I go woolward for penance.
Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him  in Rome,
for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore
none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that he
wears next his heart for a favour.
Enter a Messenger, Monsieur MERCADE.
Mercade.  God save you, Madam.
Prin.  Welcome, Mercade,
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mer.  I am sorry, Madam, for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue.  The King your father



sc. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                437
Prin. Dead, for my life!
Mer.  Even so: my tale is told.
Bir.  Worthies, away! The scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath.
I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole
of discretion; and I will right myself like a soldier.
[Exeunt Worthies.
King.  How fares your Majesty?
Prin.  Boyet, prepare: I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin.  Prepare, I say. — I thank  you, gracious
lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
King.  The extreme haste of Time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince,
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Prin.  I understand you not: my griefs are dull.




438       LOVE'S LABOUR'S  LOST.   ACT V.
Bir.  Honest plain words best pierce the ear of
grief;
And by these badges understand the King.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, 
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecome our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make.  Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-  fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.'Prin.  We have receiv'd your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time.
But more devout than this, in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum.  Our letters, madam, shew'd much more than
jest.




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                439
Long.  So did our looks.
Ros.                 We did not quote them so.
King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Prin.              A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this. 
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me: challenge me by these deserts;
And by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine, and, till that instant, shut
My woful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the other's heart.
King.  If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye.
Hence ever, then, my heart is in thy breast.
Bir. [And what to me, my love? and what to me?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd:




440       LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT V.
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.]
Dum.  But what to me, my love? but what to me?
KCath. A wife!  A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum.  O! shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
Come when the King doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum.  I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria?
Mar.                  At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar.  The liker you: few taller are so young.
Bir.  Studies my lady?  Mistress, look on me:
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.
Ros.  Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Birone,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit.
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won,)
You shall, this twelvemonth term, from day to day,
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,




SC. II.    LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.               441
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Bir. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue them,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Bir. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
Prin. [To the KING.] Ay, sweet, my lord; and
so I take my leave.
King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your
way.
Bir. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then'twill end.
Bir.               That's too long for a play.
Enter ARMADO.
Arm.  Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me,Prin. Was not that Hector?
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave.
B nB




442       LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v.
I am a votary: I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold
the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most
esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that
the two learned men have compiled in praise of the
owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the
end of our shew.
King.  Call them forth quickly; we will do so.
Arm.  Holla! approach.
Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD,
and others.
This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring;
the one maintained by the owl, the other by the
cuckoo. Ver, begin.
Song.
I.
Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-  0 word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married ear.
II.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;




SC. II.   LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                443
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-  0 word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married ear.
III.
Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
Tu-whit, to-who, - a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
IV.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
Tu-whit, to-who, - a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Arm.  The words of Mercury are harsh after the
songs of Apollo.  You, that way: we, this way.
rExeunt.








NOTES ON LOVE'S LABOUR'S
LOST.
ACT FIRST.
SCENE I.
p. 349.  "  -  a little Academe ":- This is the old and the more
correct form of the word derived from the Greek Axzabsuia. The modern word' academy' was, however, in use
in Shakespeare's day.
i,    "You three, Birone " -The original spells this French
name, in all cases, " Berowne," which expressed, at the
time, its proper pronunciation very exactly - both the e
and the o having the long pure sound. (See the last
paragraph of the Introduction to Much Ado about Nothing.) It was not necessary to make any remark upon this
name, or its orthography, until late in the last century;
the English title, which in this century became so illustrious, having until that time been pronounced as it is in
this play. It has of late been the practice to print it
Biron, sometimes with an accent on the o; but the combination on does not at the present time express the proper
sound.
p. 350.  " -    but bankerout the wits ":-an old form  of'bankrupt.' The quarto has "but bankrupt quite," &c.
I have no doubt that'bankerout' and' bankrupt' were
pronounced exactly alike; the p being silent in the latter, (as in' accompt,'' contempt,''solempnity,' &c.,) and
both the ou and the u having the second sound of u, like
oo in' shoot.' The e in' banke-rout' is a superfluous terminal of the first word of the compound; and as such it
was sometimes a syllable, sometimes silent, and sometimes omitted in the spelling of the word.   Bankerout' should be retained only when the trisyllabic form
is required by the rhythm.
(445)




446          LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT 1.
p. 351.  "-         from  common sense":- i. e., from  common
knowledge; as we have, just below,," When mistresses
from common sense are hid." As in general speech' common sense' means a faculty of the mind instead of what
it is, -'the common sense,' i. e.,'the sense common to
mankind,' - this note is not without excuse.
" When I to feast":- The original has "fast "a manifest misprint, left to be corrected by Theobald. It
was a'so corrected in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
It    "-     e and that most vain ": - The quarto has " but."
p. 352.  " --    an envious, sneaping frost":   Sneaping 
snipping = nipping.
"That were to climb the house o'er to unlock the
gate": - So the folio, except a transposition - "ore the
house" -which destroys the rhythm  of the line. The
quarto has, -
" Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate."
The alteration in the folio - the addition of three words
and the striking out of one - is plainly the result of no
chance of any kind. More important differences between
the authentic text and some earlier one- such as the
omission of several essential lines - can be justly attributed to the errors or the forgetfulness of transcribers, or
the accidents of the printing office: this cannot: it is clearly the result of design.  Why was the change made   As
clearly, because the text of the quarto, which may or may
not have been originally written by the author, did not
express his thought. Birone, in justification of his ridicule of these literary pursuits, says, (according to the
folio,) that they are untimely, that he likes not roses at
Christmas or snow in May, and adds,' so it is too late for
you to study now: that were to climb over a house to
unlock a gate,' or, in other words,'you are beginning at
the wrong end - doing boys' work at men's years.' But,
according to the quarto, he says,' I like of each thing that
in season grows; so you, now  it is too late to study,
climb over the house to unlock the little gate': whereas
it was not so, (that is, like Birone,) at all, but exactly
not so. Therefore the construction of the sentence was
changed by the addition of the first three words of this
line, as in the text, and its numbers were brought within
the alexandrine limits so frequent in these plays, by the
erasure of the not very happy word'little' in the quarto.
The neglect to make the needful transposition of' house'
and' o'er' is an easy oversight. Editors having failed to
look for a reason for the difference between the two texts,




sc. I.                    NOTES.                          417
and merely choosing between the two, have all hitherto
given, and very naturally under those circumstances, that
of the older copy; but Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 has
" Climb ore the house-top to unlock the gate."  The importance of the character of this change of the text of the
quarto, from a copy of which the folio was printed, is the
chief reason for the particularity of this note. Like similar changes in the text of Much Ado about Nothing, it
shows that though the quarto is the older edition, the folio
is the higher authority. The line " So you to study," &c.,
is without punctuation of any kind in the original.
It is hardly necessary to notice the folio's misprint of
"'fit you out" for "fit you out," in the King's next
speech.
p. 353.  "      against gentility "    The law excluding women
from  the Court was dangerous, if not fatal, to gentle
breeding, gentilesse. The correctors of Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632, and of Mr. Singer's, not seeing this, read'garrulity;' against which, beside, the law was not directed,
although the penalty was fatal to it.
l'        "  ~  shall possibly devise ":-The quarto has " can."
p. 354.  " She must lie here ":- Sir Henry Wotton unconsciously wrote the best comment on this phrase in a passage in one of his letters, first quoted by Reed: " An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good
of his country" - a joke which has doubtless converted
many a diplomatist to the faith of Dr. Johnson in the
matter of puns.;', -  this word shall speak for me ": - The folio has
" break " -a palpable misprint.
ff    " -     no quick recreation": -'Quick' has here the
sense of' lively.'' Quick' was synonymous with'alive'
in Shakespeare's time; and we still speak of the quickening of a child in the womb.
",- ~  a man of complenzents":-' Complement' and' compliment' were in Shakespeare's time spelled alike;
and the former word was applied to an individual in a
sense much akin to that radical one to which it is now
restricted - completeness, or entire accomplishment:' a
man of complement,' was' a complete man.'!/,, the world's debate ": -' Debate' - from  the
French' debattre'- had, until Shakespeare's day, and
after, its radical meaning,' to quarrel,' or'to fight.'
p. 355.  "'-fre-new":- brand or bran new.
", Enter DULL ":-In the folio, " Enter a Constable," &c.




448         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                   ACT I.
p. 355.  "  his Grace's tharborough": - The thirdborough
was a minor parish officer in Old England.
"     "-     the contempts thereof": -'Contempts' and'contents' used to be pronounced alike.  See Note on
"familiarity will breed content."  Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. 1.'     " —  a low having":-The folio has " heaven." The
correction was made by Theobald.
"       -   or forbear laughing": —Folio and quarto have
" hearing."  Malone merely says, " One of the modern
editors plausibly enough reads laughing," and Mr. Dyce,
approving the change, attributes it to Steevens, although'laughing' is in Capell's text, 1768. But the change is not
plausible: it is necessary. Armado's pomposity is known;
and when Longaville exclaims " God grant us patience! "
Birone asks, " [For what] to hear or forbear laughing [at
what we hear?] " Longaville's reply, " To hear meekly,
sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbear both," compels
the change; and beside, it required no patience to forbear
hearing.
l    "  ~- as the style shall give us cause to climb":The pun, intended, like all Shakespeare's, for the ear
only, was more obvious to the eye in his day, when' style'
and'stile' were spelled alike.
Ir,, taken with the manner": -A thief taken with
his booty in his hand was said'to be taken with the
mainour'- from the French main,' the hand.'
p. 356.  "-    in telling true, but so":- So folio and quarto.
Hanmer needlessly read' so, so,' and has been very generally followed.
f    "  ~  ycleped":- called.
p. 357.  "-  thy curious-knotted garden ": - The garden was
so called from the curious knots into which the walks
were twisted by the fantastically-shaped beds.
it    " -   that shallow vassal": -Mr. Collier's folio of
1632 has' vessel.' It is not improbable that this was the
author's word.
p. 358. "        taken with a damosel":- This is the old form
of' damsel' - from the French' danoiselle.' The word' damsel,' which appears in all current editions, except
Mr. Knight's, was not introduced into the text until late
in the last century.
p. 359.  " -     until then, Sit down, Sorrow":- The quarto
has "'till then set thee down sorrow."




SC. II.                 NOTES.                         449
SCENE II.
p. 359.  " The Park near ARMADO'S House ":- There are no
directions as to the Scenes in the original; and this was
placed in Armado's house by Pope, who has hitherto been
invariably followed. But Moth's speech,   Forbear till
this company be past," shows that they stood in the park,
not in the house. Throughout this Scene, with two exceptions, Armado is styled Braggart in folio and quarto.
" Enter... MOTH ":- I have not the least doubt
that the name of Armado's page is not Moth, but Mote -
a " congruent epitheton" to one whose extremely diminutive person is frequently alluded to in the play by phrases
which seem applicable only to Tom Thumb. That' mote'
was spelled moth we have evidence twice in one line of
this play, (Act IV. Sc. 3,) which stands in the original, -
" You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see," -
also in the following from King John, Act IV. Sc. 1, -
" 0 heaven, that there were but a moth in yours," -
and, in fact, in every case in which the word appears in
the first folio, as well as in all the quartos. Wicliff wrote
in Matthew vi., " were rust and mought distryeth."  Indeed, it seems far from improbable that the two words
were originally one, and that' mote' is not, as Richardson supposes, from' mite.' For both' mite' and' mot [e]'
are found in the Anglo-Saxon, in which language'moth'
is moghte; and the idea of smallness would naturally come
to be expressed by a word which is the name of so wellknown and so diminutive an insect. " Moth " is allowed
to remain in the text, because the name of the insect having been sometimes so spelled in Shakespeare's day,
(though generally moathe or mothe,) that may possibly
have been the word intended, in spite of the spelling of' mote' in this very play, - because it is sufficiently expressive of the Liliputian dimensions of the page, - and
because, to displace what has remained so long in the
text, when there is no absolute necessity for doing so,
would be doing almost wanton violence. But whether
the name is Moth or Mote, it is plain that the pronunciation was mote. See Introduction to Much Ado about
Nothing, and the Note on " Peasblossom, Cobweb, Mote,
and Mustardseed." M. N. Dream, Act III. Sc. 1.
p. 359.  " -   dear imp":- This word really means' scion,'
and of old was applied to any child, though chiefly to
boys.
"t    "          my tough seigneur ":  So the original, uniformly, when the word occurs in this play, excepting an
VOL. III.               C C




450         LOVE'S LABOUR'S  LOST.                 ACT I.
omission of the first e, due to ignorance or carelessness.
The French title is evidently intended. Malone changed
it to' senior,' thus destroying, at once, Moth's pun on that
word, and an important textual trait of the play. He
also erroneously stated that the original word is'signior.'
He has hitherto been followed in both respects without a
question.
p. 360.  "-   that an eel is ingenious":  The folio has " ingenuous."  The words were not distinguished by orthography in Shakespeare's time.
" -    crosses love not him " -Pieces of money were
called' crosses,' from the cross-like division by which the
arms on one side were quartered.
Ft    "-     the base vulgar [do] call three": — Do' is
from the quarto.
"    "-    the dancing horse ":  This horse was famous
over Europe for the strange feats that he had been taught
to perform by Banks, his owner, whom his intelligence
and un-horse-ly accomplishments brought under suspicion of witchcraft. Allusions to him are frequent in the
literature of the time. His name was Morocco.
p. 361.  " Most maculate thoughts ": - The folio has " immaculate," which Moth's rhymes below show to be wrong.
The quarto is correct.
p. 362.  " -    a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar":For this ballad, of King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid,
see Percy's Reliques, First Series, Book II.'    " Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQTENETTA": —The
original direction is, " Enter Cloune, Constable, and
Wench." It is hardly necessary to say that nothing derogatory was intended to Jaquenetta by this designation.
Piers Ploughman says of the Incarnation,"And in the wombe of that wenche he was fourty weeks
And man by-came of that mayde, to save man kynde."
Long past Shakespeare's time any young woman, even of
princely rank, was called a' wench.'
p. 363.  "-    for the day-woman":-i. e., the dairy-woman.
The etymology is considered uncertain; but only, it would
seem, because there are so many similar words in the
northern languages from which it might be derivedall of which are connected with the idea of a mother's
suckling her babe. The word is still in use in Scotland.
", With that face ":- The folio has " what; " but this
is a typographical error for the word in the text, (which is
found in the quarto,) as we may fairly presume from the




8C. I.                  NOTES.                         451
existence of the phrase to a late date in England as a
common repartee.
p. 363.  " Come, Jaquenetta, away":-In folio and quarto
this speech is assigned, erroneously, to Costard, with the
prefix " Clo [wn] "- the mistake being caused by the
identity of the initial letters of' Clown' and' Constable.'
I     " -   more bound to you than your followers ":The original has " fellowes" -an easy typographical
error for the word in the text, which is found in Capell's
edition. The Braggart's fellows were not " rewarded"
by him, " lightly" or otherwise: hardly, his followers; although, on giving Costard the " remuneration," (Act III.,)
he says, " the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my
dependants." This confirms the reading here adopted;
for it shows both how lightly rewarded his followers were,
and that he was somewhat sensitive upon the point.
f    "  ~- to be [too] silent ":-' Too' is found only in
the quarto.
p. 364.  "Yet was Samson so tempted":-Thus the quarto.
In the folio the words "was Sampson" are transposed,
by accident, evidently, as we see by the next clause of
the sentence, in which the characteristic precession of the
nominative by the verb, appears in both copies.
"     "The first and second cause":- See Touchstone's
exposition of the Code of Quarrel. As You Like It, Act
V. Sc. 4.'    " I shall turn sonnets " - The original has " sonnet,"
- an easy misprint. We still speak of turning tunes or
turning sentences. Hanmer read'sonneteer,' and has
hitherto been universally followed. But that form was
not known in Shakespeare's day. If so great and unnecessary a change in the original word were to be made,
we should read' sonnetist;' as in Bishop Hall's Satire,
quoted in Richardson's Dictionary: -
"And is become a new found sonnetist."
ACT SECOND.
SCENE I.
p. 365.  " Good Lord Boyet ":- In the folio this speech has
two prefixes, " Queen " and " Prin.": the former at the
commencement, the latter at the line " You are not ignorant," &c. Margaret and Katharine are called 1st and
2d Lady.




452          LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT II,
p. 366.  " Therefore to's seemeth it," &c.: - Thus the original.
It has been hitherto changed to " Therefore to us seem'th,"
&c.
"           " Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized."
The pronunciation solemni-zed obtained until after Milton's day.  See the last Note but one on The Tempest.
"     " Well fitted in arts ": - The second folio attempts to
make this line rhythmical by reading "in the arts;" but
this huddles " glorious" into two syllables.  If there is
an error in the text, it is probably a transposition, and
we should read,
" In arts well fitted, glorious in arms."
p. 367.  " Here comes 1oyet ":- The quarto, followed by Mr.
Collier, (of course,) and by Mr. Hudson, gives these
words to a Lord; the folio assigns them to Margaret, who
is in haste to change the subject upon which the Princess
has begun to rally her ladies. Plainly an intentional and
authoritative change this, and not a misprint.
p. 368.  " Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else":
It seems quite probable that Shakespeare, whose person and manner fitted him for the part, played the King,
and, knowing that he would do so, made here a play upon
his name similar to that in his 135th Sonnet: else the asseveration and reply seem somewhat forced. There is a
tradition that he played royal characters. See Life, Vol. I.
p. 369.  "'Tis'long of you":- English editors think it necessary to explain "this ancient idiom," as they call it; but, it's all along of you,' in the sense of'it's because of
you,' is common enough in America; although among
cultivated persons it is generally, if not always, used in
the way of badinage.
p. 370.  " -     would I yield unto ": - The quarto has, " I will
yield unto."
i     "  -   in my gates": —The quarto, "within my
gates."
"     " -- fair harbour in my house ":- The folio misprints, "farther harbour," &c.
p. 371.  "Birone. Lady," &c.: —This and the five following
speeches are assigned to Boy[et] in the folio; but plainly
through a mistake caused by the identity of initial letters;
for the sixth speech has the prefix Ber[owne.]
"Is the fool sick":- The folio misprints "foul," or
",foul."
I'    "No, point": —A pun is intended upon the strong




SC. I.                   NOTES.                         453
French negative, non, point. It is noteworthy that it
occurs twice in this play. See Act V. Sc. 2, p. 421.
p. 371.  " Sir, I pray you," &c.:-Here the original has a stage
direction, " Enter Dnmane," and below, at "what's her
name,"'" Enter Beroune."  This is owing to the very small
stage on which the comedy was played. Neither is supposed to have left the company.
" The heir of Alenion, Katharine," &c.:- Iere the
original has' Rosaline," who is Birone's mistress, and
afterward, when he makes inquiry, " Katharine," who is
Dumaine's. In the first part of this Scene, we see that
Maria is presented  as in some way connected with
the house of Falconbridge, and Katharine with that of
Alenqon.   RoJ'aline' and' Katharine' might be easily
mistaken in old MS.; but the error is one which we naturally expect to find rectified in the folio. I learn from
Mr. Singer's new edition, that this correction has been
previously suggested in Notes and Queries. The difficulty
occurred to Steevens; and Malone thought he settled it
by showing that all the ladies wore masks; but he forgot
that their lovers recognized them in spite of their masks.
See the first three speeches of Birone and Rosaline at this
interview.
"         I have heard - on your beard":-  Heard' and
beard' are now  no more rhymes than'heard' and'board;' but at the time when this comedy was written
they were pronounced alike. The same is true of'jest'
and  beast,' some lines below, and of numberless other
rhymes in this, and of some in every play of Shakespeare.
p. 372.  " My lips are no common, though several they be ": -
Maria's meaning and her first pun are plain enough:
the second has been hitherto explained by the statement
that the several or severell in England was a part of the
common, set apart for some particular person or purpose,
and that the town bull had equal right of pasture in common and severell. It seems to me, however, that we have
here another exhibition of Shakespeare's familiarity with
the Law; and that the allusion is to tenancy in common by
several (i. e., divided, distinct) title. Thus,- "Tenants
in Common are they which have lands or Tenements in
Fee-simple, fee taile, or for terme of life, &c., and they
have such Lands or Tenements by severall Titles, and not
by a joynt Title, and none of them know by this his severall, but they ought by the Law to occupie these Lands
or Tenements in common and pro indiviso, to take the
profits in Common."  Coke upon Littleton, Lib. III. Cap.
4, Sect. 292. " Also if lands be given to two to have and




454         LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST.  ACT IIl
to hold s.[everally] the one moity to the one and to his
heires, and the other moity to the other and to his heires,
they are Tenants in Common."  Ibid., Sec. 298; and see
this Chapter passim. Maria's lips were several as being
two, and (as she says in the next line) as belonging in
common to her fortunes and to herself; but yet they
were no common pasture.
p. 373.  "Boyet is dispos'd" - Boyet quibbles: the Princess
meant,'inclined to wanton merriment.' Mr. Dyce was
the first to show, in his Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money, and in his first volume of Shakespearian Notes, that'disposed' had this signification.
ACT THIRD.
SCENE I.
p. 374. Theobald included this Act in the second, and began
the third Act where the fourth begins in the original, the
fourth at the beginning of the original fifth, and the fifth
in the middle of Scene second of that Act, where the
King and his courtiers return to the Princess' pavilion in
their proper habits. His reason for so doing was, the
disproportionate length of the original Acts, which is
manifest to every reader; but so little was gained by the
alteration, that, although he was followed for a time, the
first arrangement was soon resumed, and has since been
preserved.
" Concolinel "  -The original has here simply," Moth.
Concolinel."  The word is incomprehensible; and it has
been generally supposed to be the beginning of some Italian song that is lost; though why, it would be difficult
to say. The corruption is probably irremediable; but it
has occurred to me that'concolinel' might be a distorted direction for musical expression (as almost all such
begin with' con') which had been ignorantly foisted into
the text instead of the first words of the song. These,
according to Mr. Collier's folio of 1632, were Anmato bene;
but Dr. Rimbault, whose opinion merits high consideration, thinks that Italian solos were unknown in Shakespeare's England.
I';- bring him festinately":-hastily.
II  - a French brawl": - A brawl or bransle *as a
dance, of which Marston gives the following very particular, and, I suppose, lucid, description in his Malcontent:
- "'tis but two singles on the left, two on the right, three
doubles forward, a traverse of six round: do this twice,




sc. I.                  NOTES.                          455
three singles side, galliard tricke of twentie, coranto pace:
a figure of eight, three singles broken downe, come up,
meete two doubles, fall backe and then honour." Act IV.
Sc. 2.' Honour'- a common term for' salute' - here,
perhaps, means'kiss;' for at this feature of the dance
in question was launched much nasal thunder.
p. 374.  "-     by turning up your eye ":- The quarto has
"your eye-lids;" but it is the eye and not the eye-lid
that affected people raise; and the eye-lid, when raised,
is lifted, not turned-up: yet in spite of this and of the
authority of the folio, every editor hitherto has silently
followed the quarto.
p. 375.  "By mypenny," &c.: - Folio and quarto have "penne."
t"    "- the hobby-horse is forgot ": - Moth waggishly
thrusts upon Armado the first line of an old song, frequently alluded to in Shakespeare's day, and which Mr.
Collier supposes to have been written on the omission of
the hobby-horse in the May games. It is mentioned again
in Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 3~
p. 376.  " Most rude melancholy ": - The corrector of Mr. Collier's folio of 1632 read, " moist eyed melancholy; " but
had he considered the context, he would have seen that
Armado calls melancholy rude because she, in his person,
sighs in the welkin's face.'  "-  a Costard broken in a shin":   Moth cries'' wonder," because' costard' means'head.'
t        -  no salve in them all, sir ":- Folio and quarto
have "no salve in thee male, sir."  The correction was
suggested by Tyrwhitt, and was also found in Mr. Collier's
folio of 1632. In most MS. it is difficult to tell, except
by knowledge of the word, a final 11 from a final le, and
the attributing the m to the wrong word completed this
blunder.." -    is not l'envoy a salve?"   It was discovered in
the last century that there was a " quibble" to be sneered
at here; but how to get at it they hardly knew. Monck
Mason says that " it operates upon the eye, not the ear;"
and Farmer, who attempted to prove that Jonson told an
untruth, in saying that Shakespeare knew a little Greek
and a little more Latin, could " scarcely think that Shakespease had so far forgotten his little school learning as to
suppose the Latin verb salve and the English substantive
salve, had the same pronunciation." It were to be wished
that Farmer had shown as much knowledge of the pronunciation, or of the meaning of Shakespeare's English,
as Shakespeare showed of the pronunciation of Latin. In




456         LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST.  ACT III.
Shakespeare's day the I was pronounced in * salve,' as it
was in' calf' and' half;' and as many other letters were
which were silent on English lips when Farmer wrote.
He should have looked forward a few pages, and taken a
lesson of Holofernes, or have come to America; and he
would have learned that the English' salve' and the Latin' salve' were enough alike in sound to justify Moth's pun.
p. 377.  " I will example it":-These words and the eight
following lines are omitted in the folio; the reason being
that the preceding line and the fourth following both end
in ain, and that the line, "The fox, the ape, and the
humble-bee," is repeated three times. The printer on
looking at his copy took the latter ain for the former,
which he had put in type, and so went on after the second
repetition of " The fox," &e.
t    "I-    by [mak]ing four":- The original has "by
adding four; " but to add four to three would not have
" stay'd the odds." The correction was made in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632. It is barely possible that' adding'
was written thoughtlessly.
p. 378.  " And he ended the market ":-  Three women and a
goose make a market.' Old Proverb.
/    "-     I will enfranchise thee":- Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632 needlessly reads,  "mnarry, I will enfranchise." The
ch in' enfranchise' being soft at the date of this play,
there was ground enough for the clown's punning blunder.
II    "-    set thee [free] from  durance":- Folio and
quarto omit' free,' which was found in Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632.:     "         mine honour ":-The folio misprints " honours."'
"         my incony Jew":-Warburton said "incony
or kony in the north signifies' fine,'' delicate,' as a kony
thing - a fine thing. It is related to the Scotch' canny.' "
Mr. Dyce confirms this.' Jew' is used as' fool,'  wretch,'
and' dog' sometimes are, in a pleasant signification which
is the converse of ironical.
"i       -  the price of this inkle? a penny "       Inkle was
a kind of tape. For " a penny" the folio has merely
i. d."
p. 379.  " There's thy guerdon: go. - Cost. Gardon." - In the
original Birone is represented as giving this French name
for remuneration correctly, and the clown as mispronouncing it;- a trifling but characteristic distinction,
neglected by all editors hitherto, except Mr. Knight, -




sc. i.                   NOTES.                         457
even by the careful Capell. It would not be worthy of
particular mention, except to remind the reader that there
are many hundreds of like restorations of the original text
(aside from those of more importance) which are silently
made for the first time in this edition. Farmer pointed
out to Steevens this joke about' guerdon' and remuneration in a tract, called A Health to the Gentlemanly Profession of Serving Men, by J. M.; but as that book was not
published until the year in which this play was printed,
and when it had been on the stage at least four or five
years, it was J. M. who plagiarized - if there were plagiarism - and Farmer's intended detraction fails of its
object.
p. 379.  " O! this afternoon:" - Birone's constant use of the
exclamation' O!' which is particularly noticeable in this
interview, is plainly one of those caricatures of verbal
tricks of the time in which this comely abounds.
t    "-     in print ":- Costard means,' punctually, exactly.'
p. 380.  " This senior-junior, giant-dwarf":-The original has,," This Siginor Junios gyant drawfe,"' Junios' being in
italic letter, - the invariable mode of printing proper
names in the folio, which, save for the lack of proof-reading, was a careful, and, for the day and country, a handsome piece of printers' work. The reading in the text,
which is now universally received, was first suggested in
Theobald's edition, 1733.  It is very ingenious, and is
supported by the correspondent contrast, "' giant-dwarf,"
and the fact that in Dromio of Syracuse's last speech in
the Comedy of Errors,' senior' is misprinted " signior" in
the original. It is, however, not at all impossible that
there is an allusion in the original text which has escaped
detection, or is entirely lost. The double misprint and
the capital and italic letter of the second word make an
accumulation of errors in a brief space which should not
be lightly assumed. Theobald supposed an allusion to
Junius, a distracted lover in Beaumont and Fletcher's
Bonduca, which, however, was not written until after this
play appeared; Warburton thought Signior Junio to be
an impersonation of youth in general; and Upton conjectured that Shakespeare "intended to compliment Julio
Romano, who drew Cupid in the character of a giantdwarf," which conjecture was considered " very ingenious" by Dr. Johnson!
" Th' anointed sovereign": -' Sovereign' is here a
trisyllable.
" Dread prince of plackets ":- American women call,
cc 2




458         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. ACT III
and time out of mind have called, that aperture in their
petticoats (upper and under) which extends from the
waist about one quarter down the back of the skirt, the
placket-hole; and it is not necessary to say here that' placket' meant a petticoat, at least soon after Shakespeare wrote. But as there has been some disagreement
among English commentators and antiquarians upon the
point, and as Mr. Singer has been misled by Florio into
saying that a placket was a stomacher, which explanation
has been adopted without question by Mr. Hudson, it may
be well to confirm what should need no confirmation. by
one or two decisive quotations which seem hitherto to
have escaped attention. In Breton's Pasquil's Night Cap,
1612, are these lines: -
"Within this church an image was erected
Which did the Lady Fortune represent,
Within her lap whole bundles did there lie
Of earthly blessings and terrestriall joyes
Then all the blessings which her placket fill'd
She seem'd to shake, and on his head distill'd."
See also the following passage in The Mirasle, a Whig
lampoon upon the pregnancy of James II.'s Queen.
" The Message with hearts full of Faith were [sic] receiv'd,
And the next news we heard was Q.[ueen] M.[ary]
conceiv'd.
Pray Heaven to strengthen her Majestie's Placket,
For if this trick fail beware of your Jacket."
Poems on State Affairs, Vol. I. Part II. p. 185.
Here'placket' evidently means the Royal'petticoat,'
the strength of which was all important in sustaining that
which, as the writer insinuated, produced the appearance
of pregnancy in the Queen. Mr. Dyce also quotes a passage from Crowne's Sir Courtly Nice, saying of Eve, that
", she cuckolded her husband with the serpent, and then
pretended to modesty, and fell a making plackets presently."  Here'placket' means that limited covering
which barely complies with the demands of shame in the
most primitive state of society. And finally, it seems
that in spite of the derivation of the word by the lexicographers from the Dutch plagghe - a clout, or small
piece of cloth -   placket' was originally, or at an early
period, a name for that which it is the chief office of the
petticoat to conceal; and that this meaning was attached




sc. I.                    NOTES.                          459
to it, more or less, for a long time. I refer the reader to
the second clause of the exclamation, which is the occasion of this note, - to a speech of Autolycus, in The Winter's Tale, Act IV. Sc. 3, in which he talks of pinching
a placket, - to a speech of Edgar's in King Lear, Act III.
Sc. 4,- to a passage in Marston's What You Will, Act
II. Sc. 1, in which' apple-squire,' which we know was
a cant term for a kept-gallant or pimp, is used as synonymous with'page of the placket,' - to one in The Comicall History of Francion, fol. 1655, Lib. I. p. 9, - and to
one in Middleton's Any-thing for a Quiet Life, Act II.
Sc. 2, in which the word is derived " a placendo, a thing
or place to please." Vol. IV. p. 448. Ed. Dyce.
p. 380.  " A  witty wanton "  - The original has " a whitely
wanton."  The text is from  Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
It is plainly correct; for Rosaline was in no sense whitely.  We are told again and again that she was the darkest of brunettes, and also that she was witty, - which
needs no telling.
ACT FOURTH.
SCENE I.
p. 382.  " God dig-you-den all":   A  rustic corruption of'God give you good even all.'
p. 383.  " Break up this capon ":- To break up a fowl, was to
carve it, cut it open; and capon is here used as an equivalent to poulet, which in French means both a chicken
and a love-letter. It was justly considered by Douce as
one of the indications of the French origin of this play.
f    "         which to annotanize ": - The original has " annothanize," which has been universally and silently taken
to be a corruption of' anatomize.' But considering the
form  of the word in the original, and that the Latin
phrase is explained and commented upon, I am  quite
sure that' annothanize' is an Armnado-ism for' annotate,'
which was in use in Shakespeare's time. Note, in either
case, th used as t.
p. 384.  " Thus dost thou hear," &c.:-These lines seem to be
a poetical postscript to Arrado's letter - one of the sonnets he proposed to turn.  They succeed the signature
in the original, without a prefix. Warburton thought
them  " a quotation from some ridiculous poet of the
time."




460         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV.
p. 384.  " —     a Monarcho ":- This was a fantastic, halfcrazed Italian, well known in London when Shakespeare
first arrived there. He is alluded to in the literature of
the time almost as often as Banks' horse. He thought
himself sovereign of the world, and that all the ships in
port belonged to him.
p. 385.  " -     she that bears the bow ":- Rosaline puns upon
Boyet's question.' Suitor' was pronounced shooter in
Shakespeare's day, and here, indeed, is printed so. Just
before (Act III. Sc. 1,)' sue' is printed' shue.',"     "     both did hit [it] ": —' It' is omitted in the
original, by manifest accident.
p. 386.  " —   by cleaving the pin ":- In place of'pin,' folio
and quarto repeat "is in," of the line above. The correction was made in the folio of 1632. The "clout"
was the white object which served as a mark, and which
was held by the pil in the middle.
"   -     too much rubbing ":- a term used by bowlers,
Malone tells us, but not what it signifies.
i'     -- ~o' the to side ": - The original has " ath to the
side," which, in all modern editions hitherto, has been
changed to"( o' the one side."  This gives the sense, but
by introducing' one,' which does not exist in the text, and
taking out of Costard's mouth a phrase which he meant to
use, which was' the to side,' i. e.,' the hither side,' an
old, and though now obsolete or vulgar, a correct form
of expression. It is of great antiquity, reaching back to
the Middle English period, at least. Wycliffe's translation of the New Testament - made about 1380- has,
in Matthew vi. 24, " Noman may serue to two lordis 
forsoth outher he schal hate the toon & lone the tother;
outher he schal susteyne the toon & dispise the tother I
yee mowne not serue to god & richefsis."  An Englishman and his wife, bred in the rural districts and very intelligent people, who were servants in my father's family,
always said'the to side,' and' t'e other side.',, - how most sweetly'a will swear ":- The missing
rhyme to this word seems to indicate the loss of a line
which, in Mr. Collier's folio, is thus supplied: -
c, Looking babies in her eyes, his passion to declare."
But the rhyme provided here, is, to me, sufficient evidence that it is entirely without authority. I am fully
convinced that, at the time when this play was written,' swear' was pronounced sweer, and that all words of,
similar orthography had the same vowel sound, and that
this can be proved, if indeed it has not been. I have yet




SC. II.                 NOTES.                         461
to learn, however, that the question has been raised by
any writer upon the language.
SCENE II.
p. 387.  "-    ripe as a pomewater ":- a species of apple, not
known in America, I believe.'     " —     a buck of thefirst head ":- A buck of the first
head was a buck five years old, and a' pricket' was a
stag of the second year, as we learn from a passage cited
by Malone from The Return from Parnassus, 1606.. 388.  " (Which we of taste," &c.: -Folio and quarto omit' of,' the need of which was pointed out by Tyrwhitt.
I    "And raught not ": - and reached not.
"   "-  to humour the ignorant, call the deer," &c.:Folio and quarto have "* call'd," and Rowe interpolated
two words, and read, "I have call'd," in which he has
hitherto been followed, except by Mr. Singer, who reads
"I will call."  But the real misprint is trifling. The
Pedant asks the Parson to hear the epitaph, and to consent to call the deer a pricket, to humor the ignorant.
p. 389.  "-     affect the letter": —i. e., affect alliteration.
Shakespeare has another hit at this affectation in the
Prologue to Pyramus and Thisbe. Mlidsummer-Night's
Dream, Act V. Sc. 1.
"Whereat with blade, with bloody, blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling, bloody breast."
" Or pricket sore, or else sorel ": — A sorrel was a stag
of the third year; a' soare' or'sore,' one of the fourth
year, as we are told in the extract from The Returnfrom
Parnassus, referred to just above.
"     "-  how he claws him with a talent ": -  Talon'
was often written  talent' in Shakespeare's day, and so
pronounced.' Claw' was used in the sense in which we
use' tickle' in the adage,' Tickle me and I'll tickle you.'
As, for instance, " there is nothing maketh the seruant
more insolent and glorious than the ouer great gentlenesse
of the master: you know well the prouerbe,'Claw a clowne, he will thee scratch,
Scratch a clowne, he will thee claw.'"
(uazzo's Civile Conversation, 1586, fol. 171 a.
It,   - if their sons be ingenuous ":- So the original,
which has hitherto been changed to' ingenious,' because
the two words used to be spelled alike. But Holofernes
had not forgotten Ingenuus puer.




462          LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV,
p. 390.  " Master Person, - quasi pers-on ":- The name for
the rector of a parish, now rapidly passing out of use,
was originally' person,' as we see by Chaucer's Persones
Tale:'parson' is a comparatively modern corruption;
the derivation being from' persona ecclesice:' see Butler's
Grammar, 1633, p. 3. This passage is one of two in this
play which are interesting and valuable as contemporary
records of pronunciation. It shows that the combination
p e r s and the word' pierce,' as well as the words' on'
and' one,' were, in Shakespeare's time, pronounced alike.
The passage is printed thus in the original, with one of
those errors in the prefixes, which are common in this
Scene:" Jaq. God giue you good morrow, M. Person.
Nath.  Master Person, quafi Perfon. And if one should
be perft, Which is the one?
Clo. Marry, M. Schoolemafter, hee that is likest to a
hogfhead.
Nath. Of perfing a Hogshead," &c.
Plainly from  this, either'pierce' was then pronounced
purse, as p e r s would be now, or that combination was
pronounced as' pierce' is now. But to decide with confidence what was the sound of p e r and p i e r when this
play was written is very difficult - almost impossible.
That simple unaccented vowels had their pure sound two
hundred and fifty or three hundred years ago in numberless instances in which they have lost it, there seems to
be no reason to doubt; but it is equally certain that if
this were the result of a general rule, the rule had exceptions; and with regard to the pronunciation of diphthongs, it is very difficult to determine either the rule or
the exceptions. In the present instance Falstaff's speech,
(Henry IV. Part I., Act V. Sc. 3,) " if Percy be alive,
I'll pierce him," is in point; for the vowel sounds in the
two italicised syllables were evidently alike; but this
only shows again that p e r and pi e r were pronounced
alike; and the question still remains, - What was their
common sound? The following passages, and one quoted
in the Note on Falstaf'"s pun, may answer it: -
"' Heer with her faire and pearlesse eies, which pearced
have my heart."
Guazzo's Civile Conversation, 1586, fol. 210.
From this it appears that the first syllables of'peer-less'
and' pier-ced' were pronounced alike.  In Butler's English Grammar, Oxford, 1633, is an Index of,'words of
like sound which have different writing," &c., in which
are these enumerations: -




68. IT.                   NOTES.                          463
" PEACE, pax: PEAS, pisum.
to PEARCE, F. percer, penetro: PIECE, Of Pierre [Peter]
PEERES, pares or magnates.
a PIEL or rine, cortex: to PIEL, decortico, unde PILLED:
a PEEL, to set bread into the oven, pala, F. paelle.
a PIL, pillula.
a PIECE, pars, F. piece: yet where a PIECE dooeth signifie
a kind [species] (whether it be put absolutely, or with
its genus) it is, for difference, written with e e vouel;
as a PEECE of ordnance, &c., &c.
to PEEP or look out: to PIEP as chicken dooe, pipio."
There is, therefore, evidence of the best kind, that immediately before the writing of this play, and within
ten years after the publication of the folio edition, the
diphthongs e a and i e had the sound of e e -that is, the
pure, long sound of e; and particularly that the vowel
sound of'pierce,' or (according to the variable orthography of that day)  pearce,' meaning to penetrate, was
like that in'peers.' It, however, is somewhat against
this conclusion, that the proper name Pierce is sometimes
pronounced Purse in New England.  For instance, the
eminent Cambridge astronomer is called by his friends
Benjamin Purse, although his name is Peirce.  It is also
to be considered that the orthographies person and parson
were both used when this play was written, and that the
latter and a pronunciation conforming to the modern
force of it have prevailed:' clerk,' too, which was written
clearke and clerke, was also written clark;' Derby' was
sometimes spelled Darby; and both these words, though
spelled with e, have now in England the broad sound of
a. Nor can we disregard the large class of words (such
as vermin, serpent, desert, serve, sergeant, merchant) in
which e had also, until a comparatively recent date, the
broad sound of a. This pronunciation I suppose to be attributable to the fact that these words first came into the
language with the Norman French sound of e, i. e., our
name sound of a, which was corrupted to the broad sound
of that letter, and has finally passed into the u sound of e.
p. 390.  " -     good old Mantuan": - Not Virgil, but Battista
Spagnolus, who wrote toward the end of the fifteenth
century, and who was also born near Mantua.  His Eclogues were much thought of by the pedants of the day.
The lines about Venice are an old proverb, and are to be
found in Florio's Second Fruits.
p. 391.  "-  the'tired horse": - Another reference to Banks'
horse, which was attired with ribbons and gay trappings.
-t.     the intellect of the letter ":-i. e., the address,




464         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.  ACT IV
that which gives intelligence of its destination. Folio and
quarto misprint' writing,' in the next line, " written."
p. 392.  " -     I do fear colourable colours ": - This common
phrase of the time seems to have meant   specious or
plausible appearances.'
" -   if before renast":- The folio has, " being repast."
SCENE III.
p. 393.  "-     and so say I, and ay the fool "  -i. e., confirm
the fool in what he said. Here and just after, " it kills
me, ay a sheep," the old copies of course print "I the
fool" and "I a sheep;" that being the way in which' ay' is always spelled in them. The pun is patent, even
did Birone not pat himself on the back with, " Well
proved, wit!" but all editions hitherto have lost it by
printing  I.'
" [Gets up into a tree":- The original stage direction
is, ", He stands aside; " but Birone's position is evident
from the text. See remarks in Vol. I. on the date of the
corrections in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632.
"  "The night of dew":- Mr. Collier's folio of 1632
has, " The dew of night," which is plausible only: the
King's night of dew is not only opposed to "the fresh
morning drops," but expressive of his gloom during the
absence or indifference of his mistress.
p. 394.  " -   like a perjurer, wearing papers ":- The allusion
is to part of the punishment of a convicted perjurer, who
wore on his breast a paper stating his crime.
r    c The shape of Love's Tyburn": - Mr. Singer says
that this is an allusion to the sometimes triangular gallows of Shakespeare's day.
II    "Disfigure not his slop ":- Loose breeches were called'slops.' Folio and quarto have' shop,' which Theobald
corrected. A MS. correction in the Earl of Ellesmere's
copy of the folio of 1623 gives' shape,' which is adopted
by Mr. Collier, and approved by Mr. Dyce. But' slop'
better suits Birone's jeering vein.
p. 395.  "-  which on my earth do'st shine ":- Thus the
folio: the quarto has "doest shine," and "exhalest" at
the beginning of the next line. The mark of contraction
came into the folio by accident no more in the former case
than in the latter; and it should be retained, or the spelling of the quarto adopted, unless we would remove from
these works all chronological traces. In Shakespeare's




8C. tII.                  NOTES.                          465
day' dost,' (i. e.,' do-est,') and' didst,' (i. e.,' did-est,')
were passing from their dissyllabic to their monosyllabic
form.  Both appear in the former shape in our translation of the Bible.  " Therefore when thou doest thine
alms," &c. (Matt. vi. 2.)  "Wilt thou kill me as thou
diddest the Egyptian yesterday? " (Acts viii. 28.) The
contracted'dost' appears to have had the pure sound
of o, not that of u in'dust.'
p 395.  " By Earth, she is not: Corporal, there you lie":Thus the original, except a comma for the colon. Theobald read, " she is but corporal," (i. e., corporeal,) because "Dumaine was a young lord," and "had no sort
of post in the army," in which he has been followed by
all editors except Mr. Knight and Mr. Collier, although
the latter accepts this meaning of' corporal;' the former
approves Douce's explanation, that Birone, who  had
before called himself a "corporal of Cupid's field, applied the title to his friend in the same sense."  But Dumaine quite surely had a post in the army.  The editors
and commentators forgot that when the ladies recount the
vows and proffers of their misled lovers, (Act V. Sc. 2,)
Maria alone says that Dumaine " and his sword" were at
her service. Besides, Dumaine said nothing in the speech
on which Birone comments to imply that his mistress was
more than corporeal.  The novel on which this play is
founded would doubtless explain why Dumaine is called
corporal, and why he only is made to talk of his sword.
p. 396.     -  is ever May ": - The folio misprints " every."
ff      -   from  thy thorn":- Folio and quarto have
" throne" - an easy misprint, as' thorn' was spelled with
a final e. It was corrected in England's Helicon, 1600.
p. 397.  " Thou, for whom," &c.: - Thus folio and quarto.
Pope read " Thou for whom ev'n Jove," &c., and Mr.
Collier's folio of 1632, "great Jove."  The quantity and
accent proper to'thou' make any addition to the line
superfluous.,, -     my true love's fasting pain ": - Both Mr. Collier's and Mr. Singer's copies of the folio of 1632 read
" lasting pain." This is plausible; but, as Mr. George
Hammersley, of Philadelphia, pointed out to me, Dumaine's was a fasting pain: as he says in his Sonnet,",       my hand is sworn,
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn."
p. 398.  ["Descends ": -  The original has no stage direction
here. It is noteworthy that Birone does not say' Now I
descend,' but " Now step I forth," which betrays the poet's
VOL. III.                  D D




466         LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST.   ACT Iv.
consciousness that, although he imagined the character to be in a tree, the actor who played it would be on
the same plane with the others. See the examination
of Mr. Collier's folio of 1632, in the History of the Text,
Vol. I.
p. 398.  " You found his mote ":- It has been before remarked
that the original has " moth " in both instances, and in
all others in which' mote' occurs. It cannot be but that
the words were pronounced alike. See Introduction to
Much Ado, &c., and Note on " Enter ARMADO and MOTH,"
Act I. Sc. 2.
p. 399.  " With men like men," &c.:- Folio and quarto omit
a word in this line -'strange' being found first in the
second folio. Malone, who has been almost universally
followed, read " moon-like men " -an ingenious alteration of a text which needs no emendation. Birone tells
his friends that after all their vows and pretences they
are men like other men- no less inconstant. Soon after
he says, -
" O! let us embrace.
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be;"
"f    "What present hast thou there?" - that is, what' presentment- matter to be presented.' People of all ranks
brought presents to kings, it is true, but not folded up in
letters.
p. 400.  " -   we deserve to die " - It must be remembered
that theft, as well as murder, was formerly punished with
death.
p. 401.  " — nor I Bironze ":-Because this name here rhymes
with' moon,' and because Mr. Fox said Touloon in the
House of Commons, it has been concluded, without sufficient reason I think, that Biroon was the pronunciation
of the name in Shakespeare's time. Infinite and ridiculous were the affectations of the elegant folk of Mr.
Fox's day. Perhaps due investigation might have convinced the editors that' moon' was pronounced mown,
and' month' or' moneth' mownth or mown-eth when
this play was written.
" 0 wood divine ": - The original has, word."
"     "-    and the shade of night ":- Folio and quarto
have " schoole of night." The word in the text, which
was found in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632, is the best emendation which has been offered - a having probably been
mistaken for o, and ol for d. Theobald suggested' stole,'
Warburton' scowl,' - a poor word, which has yet kept
a place in the text hitherto, - and Mr. Dyce' soil.' As




SC. III.                 NOTES.                         467
the passage has been always punctuated - with a semicolon after' night' -it is almost senseless. The paradox
is, that," the badge of hell," being " beauty's crest, becomes the heavens well."
p. 402.  "       that painting, [and] usurping hair": - The
conjunction was supplied by the second folio.'       "-     of their sweet complexion crack ": -' Crack,'
meaning' talk,'' gossip,' is still in use in England, though.
I believe, entirely unknown here.
p 403.  "-    plodding prisons up ":- Folio and quarto misprint "poisons."'    " Teaches such learning "      The original has " beauty"
- a word with little or no meaning here. Mr. Collier's
folio of 1632 furnishes the word in the text, which might
be mistaken in MS. for' beauty,' and which the two following lines show to be correct.
p. 404.  "-    in the Hesperides ":- that is, in the gardens
of the Hesperides. There is no need of supposing that
Shakespeare thought the Hesperides themselves to be
gardens; although Robert Greene, Master of Arts in both
Universities, did write in his Orpheus and Eurydice, of
"the fearful dragon"
"That watched the gardens call'd Hesperides."
"And when Love speaks," &c.:-Mr. Singer well
remarks, that few passages have been more discussed than
this; and where all editors and commentators have found
some difficulty to explain, it would, perhaps, be presuming to deny that any exists. But the sense which the
passage directly and clearly conveyed to me before I
had been informed that it was considered obscure, or
suspected it to be so, - that when Love speaks, a harmonious drowsy hum of approval from the voice of all
the gods fills Heaven, - still clings to me in spite of all
ingenious glosses and attempts at emendation. Theobald,
on Warburton's suggestion, read, -
"And when Love speaks the voice of all the gods,
Mlark Heaven drowsy with the harmony."
And the change in punctuation by which Love is made
to speak the voice of all the gods has been generally
received. Steevens suggested,'its harmony.' Heath explained the passage as meaning, " Whenever Love speaks,
all the gods join their voices with his in harmonious concert." Tyrwhitt suggested, -
" And when Love speaks (the voice of all) the gods
Make," &c.




468         LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT v.
Farmer, -
" And when Love speaks, the voice makes all the gods
Of Heaven drowsy," &c.
Charles Knight gives an explanation much like that of
the present editor, and Mr. Collier, as usual, confines
himself to recording the difference of a letter between the
old copies.
p. 405.  "  -  that loves all men": - an idiom of the time ft i'that all men love.'
ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.
p. 406.  "     witty without cfection   -   ere  affection'
is used for' affectation,'' audacious' for' self-possessed,'
and'opinion' for'self-conceit' - as we still say that a
man is' opinionated.' In this speech, as often before and
after, Armado is spelled Armatho.
p. 407.  " —   such rackers of orthography," &c.:- This passage has especial interest on account of its testimony as
to the condition of our language when it was written. In
his pedagoguish wrath, the Pedant lets us know that consonants now silent were then heard on the lips of purists,
that compound words preserved the forms and sounds of
their elements, and that vowels were pronounced more
purely and openly than they now are. The change from
the ancient to what may be called the modern pronunciation appears to have begun, among the more cultivated
classes, just before Shakespeare commenced his career, and
to have been completed in the course of about fifty years
- i. e., from about 1575 to about 1625. I am fully aware
of the difficulty of fixing limits to such changes, and of
the show of reason with which it might be maintained
that they have no limits; but as there were periods when
our language had, from being Anglo-Saxon, become successively Semi-Saxon, Old English, Middle English, and
English, so there was a time when the principles upon
which rested the pronunciation for which Holofernes contends were no longer thought of, among that class of people to whom we look as the best speakers of a language,
and when those which yet guide us became in vogue.
With regard to the completion of this change, the follow.
ing passages from Charles Butler's English Grammar, oi
the Institution of Letters, Syllables and Words in the English Tongue, 4to., Oxford, 1633, are decisive: in them
will be found the very words which Holofernes cites.




SC. I.                    NOTES.                           469
" Another use of the letters is to show the derivation of
a woord: namely when wee keep a letter in the derivative, &c.... Also when a letter not sounded in
the English is yet written, becaus it is in the language
from whence the woord came: as b in debt, doubt; e in
George; g in deseign, fleyme, reign, signe; h in Thomas, authoriti, [See Introduction to Much Ado, &c.]; I in salve, &c.,
&c." (P. 3.) " L after a and beforef, v, k or m is vulgarly
sounded like u (or, with the a, like the diphthong au);
before f as in calf, haf'; before v as in salv, calvs, halvs,
&c., &c." (P. 18.) Butler was a Master of Arts of Magdalen College, and his Grammar is a curious and valuable contribution to the later history of our language.
But the isolation of the Englishmen of New England,
and their consequent protection from exterior influences,
caused changes in pronunciation, as well as in idiom, to
take place much more slowly among them  than among
their brethren who remained in the mother country; and
the orthoepy for which the worthy Pedant contends is
not very far removed from that of the grandfathers and
great-grandfathers of the present generation in the more
sequestered parts of the Eastern States.  The scholars
among these, as well as those who had received only that
common-school education which no Yankee is allowed to
lack, did not, for instance, in Holofernian phrase, speak
coud and woud fine, but pronounced all the consonants,
could and would; they said sword, not sored; they pronounced' have' to rhyme with'rave,' not hav, -'jest,'
which used to be written j e as t, jeest, to rhyme with' yeast,' -' pert,' which of old was spelled p e a r t, peert;
and in compound words they said, for instance,  clean-ly,'
not clen-ly, and, correctly,' an-gel,''cham-ber,'' danger,' not ane-gel, chame-ber, dane-ger.  Their accents yet
linger in the ears of some of us, and make the words of
Shakespeare's pedagogue not altogether strange. It is
true that this note assists neither to determine Shakespeare's text nor to illustrate his meaning; but, perhaps,
for its subject's sake, it will be acceptable to those who
love the language in which Shakespeare wrote.
p. 407.  "       it insinuateth me of insanie ":-Folio and
quarto have "infamie" for' insanie,' which Theobald
corrected.
Quare chirrah, not sirrah ":-We learn from  this
passage that at the time when this play was written it
was becoming the fashion to pronounce' sirrah' shirra,
as it was to pronounce' suitor' shooter.  See Note on
" She that bears the bow," Act IV. Sc. I. This corruption of s to sh before u or i, is like that of d to j before




470         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.   ACT v.
u, or letters which have its sound: as some folk think it
elegant to bid one' a jew,' because' the jews are falling.'
p. 408.  " The third of the five vowels ":- Folio and quarto
have "' The last," which is an obvious error.
c "  ~  a quick venew of wit ":- This fencing term
was in constant use in the metaphorical sense of' hit':
as, for instance, "being driven [i. e., coquettish women]
from their warde, they ly so open that they are soone
venued."   Guazzo's Civile Conversation.  4to.  1586.
fol. 135 b.
I"   -; -        at the Charge-house ": - We shall probably be
without an explanation of this phrase until we discover
the story on which the play is founded. Steevens supposed it to mean' free-school,' though it is difficult to
conjecture why. Mr. Collier's folio has' large house;'
but as the original has " Charge-house," with a capital C, the misprint is hardly probable.
p. 409.  "I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy;...   I
do beseech thee, apparel thy head": - Difficulty has
been found here, which has not been explained, and
which Malone proposed to obviate by reading " remember not thy courtesy" - an interpolation which Mr. Dyce
pronounces " absolutely necessary."  But the obscurity
has arisen from supposing both sentences to be addressed
to the same person. The Clown, who was present as well
as the Pedant, probably forgot the courtesy which the
other remembered; and Armado reminds the peasant of his
duty to his betters, and waives the civility on the part
of Holofernes. We must constantly remember that these
plays were written only to be acted.
In the next line the quarto has "important" instead
of'importunate.'
p. 410.  "-  if this fadge not ": -i. e., suit not.
t"    "     dance the hay ":- The'hay' was an old English country dance, which seems to have been a very
lively one, from  the following allusions to it: "Their
violent turning and wild whirling hayes." Davies' Orchestra. 1622.  " With their winding haies, active, antique dances," &c. Chapman's Widowe's'ears. 1612.
SCENE II.
p. 411.  "He made her melancholy," &c.: —Five lines here
are accidentally printed as prose in the original.
p. 412.  " -    past cure is still past care ":- Folio and quarto
transpose' care' and' cure' in this old adage.
i  "'Ware pencils, ho  " -Folio and quarto have "'Ware




SC. II.                   NOTES.                          471
pensals.  How?"  The emendation is by Mr. Dyce, who
says that " how " is " merely the old spelling of' ho,' " and
cites many instances in support of his opinion, which is
much confirmed by the fact that two hundred and fifty
years ago o w had, much more generally than it now has,
the pure sound of o. He adds, that "' ho' is, of course,
equivalent to cease, stop - a meaning which formerly it
often bore"! Has it ceased to bear that meaning in England?
p 412.  "-    I beshrew all shrews":-' Shrew' was pronounced shrow in Shakespeare's time, of which pronunciation we yet have remnants, for instance, in' sew' and' shew.' The quarto has, "I beshrow all shrows."
p. 413.  " -    in by th' week":- instead of by the day;
that is, firmly engaged.
"      -    to my behests ":- Folio and quarto have " device." The text is that of the second folio, and both sense
and rhyme justify it, great as the corruption is which it
supposes.
i  " So persaunt-like":- that is, so sharply, so keenly.
The word, from' pierce,' (formerly written perse,) was
often so used.  The original has "pertaunt," with the
very easy error of a t for a long f. Hanmer read'portent-like,' and has been generally followed. Capell read'pageant-like;' and'potently' was found in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632. The last word affords a good sense,
but it differs too widely from the original, and does not
suit the caustic Rosaline so well as that in the text.,,  -_  to wantonness ":- Folio and quarto have " wantons be," which was corrected in the second folio.
p. 414.  "       mirth is in his face ": - The folio omits'is.'
p. 415.  "-  as I guess ": - This line is without a rhyme.
It may be the first of a couplet, the second of which is
lost, and which is not absolutely necessary to the sense;
otherwise it is the third of a triplet; but the former
supposition is the more probable.
I "-    his love-suit ":- Folio and quarto have " lovefeat " - an error for which the longf is chiefly responsible. The correction was found in Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632.
p. 416.  "-   turn away her face":-The original has "his,"
and in the next line," keepers " for' speakers,' which is
found in the quarto. In the second line of the Princess'
next speech' e'er' appears for " ne'er," which is found in
the second folio.




472         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT V.
p. 416.  "Enter the KING," &c.:-The stage direction of the
original is, somewhat oddly, "Enter Black noores with
musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords
disguised."
"    "Beauties no richer," &c.:-This speech is given in
the original to Birone; but it was Boyet who "put Armado's page out of his part," as we learn from the King
just before the ladies join their lovers on the return of
the latter in their own habits. The use of the same initial
letter as a prefix caused the mistake, which occurs again
in the folio in this Scene, when Costard enters for
Pompey. Theobald made the change, and all editors
and commentators have acquiesced in it, except Mr. Collier and Mr. Knight. " Taffata" refers to the silk masks
of the ladies.
p. 418.  " -    vouchsafe but one change " - The quarto has
" do but vouchsafe one change."  This is one of many
variations between the two editions, which shows that
the copy of the quarto from which the folio was printed
was corrected by authority.'    " Why take you hands": - The quarto has "we."
"      Prize you yourselves":-The folio omits'you'owing to the repetition of the syllable.
p 420.  " Take that," &c.:- The folio has " Take you that."
"  What, was your visor made," &c.: - In the original
this and many other speeches are assigned to the wrong
characters. The errors of this kind are so numerous in
this play, and so easy of correction, that it has been very
rarely necessary to point them out particularly.
"     "-      kingly poor flout ":- It would have seemed
quite unnecessary to point out that this expression refers
to the King's lame retort at parting, had not " killed by
poor flout," which was found in Mr. Collier's folio of
1632, been received with some favor, and had not Mr.
Singer thought it necessary to read " stung by poor flout."
p. 421.  " Qualm, perhaps ": -Plainly' qualm' was pronounced calm, which gave the Princess an opportunity
for her jest; for Longaville would surely not tell his mistress that she " came o'er his heart " like a qualm! Thus' quote' was pronounced cote, and so printed, and sometimes coat.  See also Note on qui, quee, quod.  Merry
Wives of Windsor, Act IV. Sc. 1.
"    "-    plain statute-caps ": - An Act of Parliament
passed in 1571, for the benefit of cappers, enjoined, that
all persons, with the exception of noblemen and a few oth



sc. TI.                  NOTES.                         473
ers, should, on Sunday and other feast days, wear woollen caps entirely of English make, under a penalty of ten
groats. Strype's Annals of Quteen Elizabeth.
p. 422.  " -    command me any service to her":-Thus the
folio: the quarto has, lamely enough, "any service to
her thither? "- which Capell first adopted. He has
been universally followed hitherto, the editors also reading, " Where is the Princess? " in the second line above,
and thus obtaining three lines of poor blank verse.
But they forgot that the speeches here are in couplets
or alternate rhymes. If the quarto were ever right, which
there is no warrant for believing, the difference from it is
evidently the result of design. With the next line begins
the verse and the rhyme.
p. 423.  " —   when Jove doth please":- The quarto has
" God." It is possible that the change was made in accordance with the statute 3 James, touching the use of
the name of the Creator; but the heathen gods are much
appealed to in this play.
"  He can carve, too ":- See Note on " She carves,"
Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. 3.
" -    as whales-bone ":- The teeth of the walrus,
which used to be called the whale, furnished an inferior
sort of ivory. Previous editors have noticed that whales
is a dissyllable, though they have strangely failed to see
that the same is true with regard to many other similar
words in Shakespeare's earlier plays.
"     "Pay him the due ":- The folio has " dutie," and
just below, both folio and quarto have, " this mad man,"
- both evidently errors of the press.
p. 424.  " -     [My] gentle sweet ":- Folio and quarto have
no word in the place of' My,' which was inserted by Malone. The second folio - no better authority as to a lost
word - reads, " Fair, gentle sweet," which gives a much
less musical line, and a collocation of epithets which
Birone would be less likely to apply to Rosaline.
p. 425.  " -     thy keen conceit":- The analogically proper
pronunciation of this word was in vogue when this play
was written, and made it a perfect rhyme to'wait.'
The diphthong ei had then almost invariably the sound
which it still preserves in' freight,'  obeisance,' &c.
p. 426.  " —   spruce affection ":-Thus folio and quarto;
but all modern editors, Mr. Collier excepted, read  affectation,' although' affection' was the form most commonly
used in Shakespeare's day:-just before, Sir Nathaniel
says, "witty without affection."  Besides, if we read
D D2




474         LOVE'S  LABOUR'S LOST.    ACT V.' affectation,' we must pronounce hy-pdr-bo-lds; whereas
Shakespeare used that word as a trisyllable, hy-per-boles,
as we see by this line in Troilus and Cressida, -
" Would seem hy-per-boles. At this fusty stuff."
It should be remarked also that affection has not our
modern trisyllabic pronunciation, but one similar to that
which such words have in French verse- af-fec-ti-on:
thus it rhymes with os-ten-ta-ti-on. This pronunciation
of words ending in tion is not uncommonly found in the
literature of Shakespeare's day.
p. 426.  "Sans'sans' ":- The French word'sans' was in
common use in the polite society of Shakespeare's time;
but, like many others that have enjoyed the same favor,
it failed to become domesticated. Birone, who had just
forsworn "taffata phrases" for " russet yeas and honest
kersey noes," has yet, as he says, "a trick of the old
rage."
"   -    Lord, have mercy on us " - This was written
on- the doors of houses infected with the plague; and the
plague spots were called' the Lord's tokens.'
p. 427.  "  -  you force not to forswear ": -' Force' seems to
have been used of old for' weight,' metaphorically in the
sense of' consequence,'' consideration;' and thus " you
force not," means'you think it of no consequence.'
p. 428.  " -     by th' squire": - i. e., square, - from  the
French' esqzierre.' Boyet knows all his royal mistress'
whims and peculiarities; or, in an old English phrase
which has died out here,'he has got the length of her
foot.'
"         -  - you are allow'd": - As we say,' you are privileged.'
p. 429.,' You cannot beg us":- The custody of idiots and
the management of their estates could be granted by the
King to whomever he thought proper; and so persons
then were' begged' for fools with the same intent with
which nowadays they are sometimes sent to lunatic asylums.
"     "-  but to pursent one man":-The original has
"perfect," which, though hitherto retained, is plainly a
misprint, and an easy one, for'pursent,' (spelled with a
long f,) which the Clown uses just before.' Present'
was specially applied to the assumption of character on
the stage.'    " -   worthy of Pompion the Great"  - In the previous speech the original has " Pompion," here " Pompey,"




SC. II.                   NOTES.                          475
which seems manifestly an error. The Clown does not
know  "the degree of the Worthy," but mistaking his
name for' pompion,' [ pumpkin,'] he supposes him to be
a "poor man."
p. 429.  " Where zeal strives to content, and the contents ":
These two lines are as in the original. The poet, had he
lived now, or at any time when agreement in number was
absolutely necessary, and had no rhyme been required
for'presents,' would have written, and the content."
Much difficulty has been found in the passage, and it has
been subjected to many alterations, in one of which,, them' for' that,' in the second line, I was once disposed
to concur. But no change is necessary. The Princess in
the preceding and two succeeding lines, is her own commentator upon this expression of the mischievous pleasure
which she has in bathos.
I..i30.  " Abate a throw at Novem ":-' Novem,' or' Novemquinque,' was a game of dice; so called from the important throws being nine and five.
p. 431.  " You lie," &c.:- This first interruption is given in the
original to Birone, as the first also is in the masking interview in the early part of this Scene; the mistake being
due to the identity of the initial letters in the names
Birone and Boyet.
"     "With libbard's head":- This refers to the masquine,
which Cotgrave defines (1611) " the representation of a
Lyon's head, &c., upon the elbow or knee of some oldfashioned garments." The caps for the knees and elbows
in a suit of plate armor were also frequently wrought
into the shape of a lion's or leopard's (' libbard's') head.
"-    it stands too right ": - It must be remembered
that Alexander's head was awry.
p. 432.  "-        the painted cloth": —Painted cloth was a
cheap sort of hanging, used generally in halls, instead of
arras; and, like that, was adorned with representations
of classical or scriptural subjects. It is several times
mentioned in these plays, and occurs in almost every
remaining inventory of household goods made in Shakespeare's day.  See some in Halliwell's Life of Shakespeare.'    "          sitting on a close stool":-Toilet pointed out
that in the arms assigned to the Nine Worthies in Leigh's
Accidence of Armory, 1597, Alexander is made to bear,
"geules, a lion seiante in a chayer, holding a battle-ax
argent."  By preserving, as Costard did, the pure sound
of the last a in'Ajax,' the nature of his pun will be




476         LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.                   ACT V.
made apparent. The pole axe was so called from  its
Polish origin: its handle was short.
p. 433.  "A kissing traitor ": - One meaning of' clip' was to
embrace, to throw  the arms about; and hence Judas
Maccabeus clipped is called a kissing traitor. We are told
that the old Scotch guillotine, the Maiden, "clipped its
victim about the neck; " and, doubtless, it hence received
its name.
"'" A cittern head ":- The heads of stringed instruments were of old generally carved grotesquely into human or bestial forms, as they sometimes now are; and the
same fashion prevailed with regard to the other articles
mentioned afterwards.
p. 434.  " A gilt nutmeg": - This, from frequent allusions in
the literature of the time, appears to have been a common
gift; why, it is impossible to say.
"   ['Peace! ] ": - This exclamation, and the words
" when he breathed," &c., in Armado's second speech
below, are found only in the quarto.
p 435.  " [BIRONE goes out":- In the original, " BEROWNE
steppes forth." Since Capell's edition, it has been the universal practice to make Birone whisper Costard, who is
kept on the stage, - a very clumsy arrangement, as well
as inconsistent with the original direction. This direction shows, that although no entrance is marked in the
original, Costard (whose exit is there directed when the
Princess says, ", Stand aside, good Pompey") comes running in, crying, "The party is gone," &c., after Birone
has put him up to the trick. Mr. Collier's folio has, in
the latter place, " Enter COSTARD hastily, and unarmed."
"    " -    she's quick ": - See Costard's next speech and
the Note on " quick Birone," in the early part of this
Scene.
p. 436.  "I go woolward": - To wear wool next the skin was
a milder form of the hair-shirt penance.
p. 437.  "-    a nimble tongue ":- The original has " humble," a word without meaning here.  Theobald read' nimble,' which was found also in Mr. Collier's folio of
1632, and which the context shows to be correct; for the
Princess adds,'- and so (that is, because a heavy heart
bears not a nimble tongue) excuse me for coming so short
of thanks.''    " The extreme haste of time," &c.: - The original has,, parts of time," an evident corruption. The correction,
which is Mr. Singer's, is justified by the sense of the three




sc. II.    LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST.                     477
following lines, as well as by the ease with which the old
h, with a bow below the line, might be mistaken for p,
and the likeness between r and s in MS. at any time.
p. 437.  " -    my griefs are dull":- The original has " my
griefs are double." The correction was made in Mr. Collier's folio of 1632; and the reply which the line elicits
from Birone fully justifies the change.
p. 438.' Full of strange shapes ": - The original has " straying," - a palpable misprint.
" As bombast, and as lining ": -' Bombast' being the
material which was used to stuff out dresses, the word
was used to signify any filling or puffing out. Thus,
" so that they have to bombast their bellies with good
store of meate."  Guazzo's Civile Conversation, 1591,
fol. 187 b. " Studie should rather make him leane and
thinne, and pull out the bumbast of his corpulent doublet." Ibid., fol. 190 a., -     in our respects ":- The original has " are,"
which Hanmer corrected.
p. 439.  " And what to me," &c.:- The five succeeding lines
in reply to this question are repeated afterward almost in
terms, and with amplification, by Rosaline. Various editors have suggested that they should be omitted altogether; and it is evident that they are the first draft of the
thought, and by oversight were not struck out when the
play was augmented; the parting tilt between these two
wits having then been made the close of the conference.
p. 440.  "-  for thy love ": - The folio has "for my love."
p. 441.  "-     their own dear groans ": - Mr. Collier's folio
of 1632 has " dire groans," which is a very specious alteration; but see the first line of Act II. Sc. 1 of this play: 
"Now, Madam, summon up your dearest spirits."
King Henry IV., too, calls his son his " dearest [i. e., his
greatest] enemy."  The use of the word in this superlative sense was common.
p. 442.  "And lady-smocks":- This and the next line are
transposed in the original. The first' Tu-whit' is also
omitted in Winter's stanzas. Theobald made the necessary correction. The structure of the stanzas requires
both changes.
p. 443.  " -   doth keel the pot ":- To'keel a pot' was to
cool it by stirring the boiling contents with a ladle.
END OF VOL. IIl.