THE
FAMILY SHAKSPEARE.
Sportive Fancy round liim flew,
Nature led him by the hand,
Instructed him in all she knew,
And gave him absolute command.
LONDON :
Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,
New- Street- Square.
THE
FAMILY SHAKSPEARE,
IN ONE VOLUME;
IN wiiioi
NOTIII.M; is ADDKD TO TIIK ORIGINAL TEXT,
BUT TI.OSK WORDS AND KXPRKSSM >Xs AI:K OM.TTK,) WHU'lf CANNOT
WITH I'ROl'RIKTV UK KKAH ALOUD IX \ FA.MH.y.
BY THOMAS UOU'DLKK, KSQ. F.H.S. & S.A.
TIM: NINTH i: i > IT i ON.
LONDON :
roi{ LONGMAN, HHOWN. GREEN, \ LON( , \| \ \ s.
1847,
86
/$?
TO
THE MEMORY
OF
ELIZABETH MONTAGU,
AUTHOR OF
THE ESSAY ON THE WRITINGS AND GENIUS OF SHAKSPEARE;
IN WHICH
THE BRITISH POET IS COMPLETELY VINDICATED
FROM
THE MISREPRESENTATIONS AND CENSURES
OF
VOLTAIRE,
THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED,
BY
SINCERE AND RESPECTFUL
FRIENDSHIP.
A 2
Sweetest Bard that ever sung,
Nature's Glory, Fancy's Child;
Never sure did Poet's tongue
Warble forth such wood-notes wild.
PREFACE
TO
THE FOURTH EDITION.
IT lias been observed by a learned writer in a preface to his second edition, that the feel-
ings of an author at that time, are very different from those which he experiences, when
he offers a new work at the tribunal of public opinion. The truth of this observation must
of course be felt more strongly in the present instance, when a fourth edition is committed
to the press. The reception which the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE has experienced from the
Public has indeed been gratifying. It has been commended by all those who have ex-
amined it, and censured by those only who do not appear to have made any enquiry into
the merits or demerits of the performance, but condemn every attempt at removing inde-
cency from Shakspeare. It would, indeed, have given me real pleasure, if any judicious
and intelligent reader had perused the work with the eye of rigid criticism, and had
pointed out any improper words which were still to be found in it. All observations of that
nature would have been candidly and maturely considered, and if well founded, would
have been followed by the erasure of what was faulty. On the other hand, I cannot but
be gratified, ^t perceiving that no person appears to have detected any indecent expression
in these volumes : but this has not made me less solicitous to direct my own attention to
that object, and to endeavour to render this work as unobjectionable as possible. I have,
therefore, in preparing this Edition for the press, taken great pains to discover and cor-
rect any defects which might formerly have^scaped iny^ notice, but they have appeared in
this last perusal of the work to be very fewTii number, ana not of any great importance.
Such, however, as I have been able to perceive, I have carefully removed, and I hope I
may venture to assure the parents and guardians of youth, that they may read the FAMILY
SHAKSPEARE aloud in the mixed society of young persons of both sexes, sans peur et son*
rcjn-oche.
My next object was to observe, whether the sense and meaning of the author were in
any degree perverted or impaired by the erasures which I had made. The final decision
of this question must be left to the careful and intelligent critic ; but to myself it appears,
that very few instances will be found in which the reader will have any cause to regret
the loss of the words that have been omitted. The great objection which has been urged
against the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE, and it has been urged with vehemence by those who
have not examined the work, is the apprehension, that, with the erasure of the indecent
passages, the spirit and fire of the poet would often be much injured, and sometimes be
entirely destroyed. ^^This objectionarises principally from those persons who have_fin-
4ined their study of Shakspeare to the closet, and have not learned in the theatre, with
mow uiuch safety it is possible to make the necessary alterations. J They have not learned,
/or they have forgot, that except in one, or at most in two instances, the plays of our author
fare never presented to the public without being corrected, and more or less cleared of in-
/ decency ;! yet Macbeth and Othello, Lear, Hamlet, and As you Like it, continue still to ex-
hibit the^superior genius of the first of dramatic poets. The same may be said of his other
transcendent works ; but those which I have named are selected as being five of the finest
plays in the world, the most frequently acted, the most universally admired ; but of which,
there is not one that can be read aloud by a gentleman to a lady, without undergoing
some Correction. I_ha_ve nttpmptpd to do fhr thp library wW thf managpr Hops fnr-thg
sJage^and I wish that the jersons who urge thjs_abjection would ?xa,miwMhp plays with
attention. I venture to assert, that in the far greater part of them, they would find that
it is~not difficult to separate the indecent from the decent expressions ; and they would
soon be convinced, that, by removing the stains, they would view the picture not only un-
injured, but possessed of additional beauty. The truth of this observation has been
expressed with such elegance, and in terms so honourable to Shakspeare, by a very supe-
rior judge of poetic composition, that I cannot resist the temptation of inserting the whole
passage.
After censuring the indecencies of Dry den and Congreve, as being the exponents of
licentious principles, the reviewer observes, in language more expressive than any which
I could have employed, " that it has in general been found easy to extirpate the offensive
" expressions of our great poet, without any injury to the context, or any visible scar, or
" blank in the composition. They turn out, not to be so much cankers in the flowers,
" as weeds that have sprung up by their side : not flaws in the metal, but impurities that
" have gathered on its surface, and that, so far from being missed on their removal, the
" work generally appears more natural and harmonious without them."* I will not
* Edinburgh Review, No. Ixxl p. 5&
VI PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.
weaken the foregoing quotation by adding any less forcible language of my own, but I
will endeavour to prove by examples the perfect justice of the observation. It is indeed
a difficulty, and a v *ry grpn* rm, ^nAor /h;^h T lahnijr, that it is not possible for me_jo
stat^ fjm \vm-ti >; which J hayy p^ittt'd but I think that I may adduce one instance, which,
\\ itlumtofTeiuling the eye or the ear of modesty, will sufficiently confirm the remarks of
the judicious reviewer, and prove that a whole scene may be omitted, not only without
injury, but with manifest advantage to the drama.
In the second scene of the third act of Henry V., the English monarch, after taking
Harfleur, is preparing to march towards Calais. In the fourth scene of that act, we find
the French king and his counsellors deliberating on the means of intercepting the Eng-
lish army. These scenes naturally follow each other but what is the intermediate
scene, the third of the third act ? It is a dialogue between the French princess and her
female attendant, of whom she is endeavouring to learn the English language. She
asks her,
Kath. Comment appellez-vous la main en Anglois 9
Alice. La main 9 EUe est appellee de hand.
Kath. De hand. Et les doigts 9
Alice. Les doigts 9 Je pense qiiils sont appellee dejingres, ouy dejingres.
Kath. Comment appellez-vous les angles 9
Alice. Les angles 9 les appellons de nails.
I will not tire my readers with a longer extract from this uninteresting dialogue ; it is
continued through more than twenty questions and answers of the very same nature ; and
as there is not a single word on any subject but the foregoing, every person will be ready
to ask, what could induce Shakspeare to insert so useless a scene ? The answer, I be-
lieve, must be, that it was written in compliance with the bad taste of the age, for the
express purpose of raising a laugh at the conclusion, by introducing, through the me-
dium of imperfect pronunciation, the two most indecent words in the French language.
At the mention of those words, the princess is shocked, as every virtuous woman would
be, if she were either here or elsewhere, to see them written, or hear them repeated. Is it
possible that any person will feel regret at perceiving that, in the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE,
the beautiful play of Henry V. is not interrupted in a very interesting part of the nar-
rative, by so improper a scene by a scene so totally unconnected with every thing which
precedes or which follows after it, that if it were taken by itself, no reader would be able
to discover in what act it was meant to be inserted? Let it not be said as an excuse,
that it introduces to our acquaintance the princess, who is afterwards to be the wife of
Henry. The excuse is too trifling to be admitted.
I may next observe, that the scene which I have here quoted, is by no means a solitary
instance. Examples of a similar nature are to be found in several of the plays, comedies as
well as tragedies. In most of these cases, the objectionable parts are so completely ^nr nn -
nected with the olay^ that^ one might almost be~ inclined to suppose, that jihakspeare.
in the first instance, composed one of hisJbeautiTuI '^rama.^ nn^j after it wluTfimshed,
was compelled^ bv the wretched taste of the age, to add something nf fl )nw anHjhjrii-
crous nature. The passages thus inserted, have really, in many cases, the appearance of
interpolations ; and adopting the expressive language of the reviewer, they are weeds
which have sprung up by the side of the flowers, and the former being removed, the latter
appear with additional beauty. What has been said of whole scenes in some instances,
may be applied in a great many, to speeches, to parts of speeches, and to single words.
From Macbeth, the noblest effort of dramatic genius that ever was exhibited in any age
or in any language (I do not except the CEdipus of Sophocles), very little has been
erased ; but the description of the effects of drunkenness, which is given to MacdufF by
the porter at the gate of the castle, is of so gross a nature, that it is impossible that any
person should be sorry for its omission. The same may be said of the indecent words
which are addressed by Hamlet to Ophelia, before the representation of the play. These,
like most other alterations, were made without difficulty, but I confess that there are three
plays, which form exceptions to what I have advanced respecting the facility of the task
that I have undertaken. To Jfoqsure for Measure, Henry IV., and Othello, ,1 have an-
nexed_particul3.r_p_refaces j stating the difficulties winch existed, and the method by which
I should endeavour to overcome them. In the first of the three, I hope I have succeeded ;
and I should not be sorry i? the merit of this whole work were to be decided by a com-
parison of this very extraordinary play, in the original, and in the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE.
Of FalstafF and Othello, I shall only say, that I acknowledge the difficulty of my task.
I have indeed endeavoured, as cautiously as possible, to remove the objectionable
speeches, without injuring the characters ; but wantonness of expression and action are
very closely connected with FalstafF; and the infuriate passions of rage, jealousy, and
revenge, which torture the breast of Othello, are like " Macbeth's distempered cause.'
incapable of being completely buckled within the belt of rule."
PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST EDITION.
I IF a presumptuous artist should undertake to remove a supposed defect in the Trans-
figuration of Raphael, or in the Belvidere Apollo, and in making the attempt should
injure one of those invaluable productions of art and genius, I should consider his name
as deserving never to be mentioned, or mentioned only with him who set fire to the
Temple of Diana. ^fsBut the works of the poet may be considered in a very different
light from those of the painter and the statuary. Shaksgearj^Jjnimitable Shakspeare^jwjll
remainthe subject of admiration as long as taste and literature shalljexist, and his writings
willjTpTmnr1lp<j_jovvnL tQ^p^OSteritY '" tJipir nativp hpaiitv. alfhnnp-h the present attempt to
add to his fame should prove entirely abortive. Here, then, is the great difference. "Tf
the endeavour to improve the picture or the statue should be unsuccessful, the beauty of
the original would be destroyed, and the injury be irreparable. In such a case, let the
artist refrain from using the chisel or the pencil : but with the works ofthe poet no such
danger occurs^ and the criticneed not be afraid of employingTusperT; for~the~ original
will continuiauiImpaTredjinthough'Tirs own laB^ur^sho'ujdTmmeaiatelyJbe" consigned to
oblivion. That ShakspeareTs the firsT~of r dramatic writers will be denied by few, and
I doubt whether it will be denied by any who have really studied his works, and com-^
pared the beauties which they contain with the very finest productions either of our own
or of former ages. It must, however, be acknowledged, by his wannest admirers, that
gnme, ffofegts anr to he fffiij^4B_tIv*^rrit?ngfi of m\r^ immortal bajjl , The language is
not alwaysfau^ETessT^Iany words and expressions occur which are of so indecent a
nature as to render it highly desirable that they should be erased. Of these, the greater
part are evidjmtly^n^jpjduj^ed^ to gratify Jthe bad tasje j)f the age in which he lived, and
the rest may perhaps be ascribecTtoTiis owrf 'ulnbridled fancy. TJui- neither thejylcjous
taste of thg age f nor th^ m"g* bjiUJant efljisiws o-it, can -afford an excuse for.proiaHe-
ness_ojLobacenity_; and if these could be. obliterated^Jlie transcendent genius of 4he poot
wouMjuodoubtedly shine with more unclouded Tustfe. To banish every thingjrf this
natuco. frnm .lhg_ writiTTgs~gf"Snakspeare is th fl nhjpnt nfjly . present undertakjng . My
earnest wish is to render his plays unsullied by any scene, by any speech, or7~IFpossible,
by any word that can give pain to the most chaste, or offence to the most religious of
his readers. Of the latter kind, the examples are by no means numerous, for the writings
of our author are, for the most part, favourable to religion and morality. There are,
however, in some of his plays, allusions to Scripture, which are introduced so unneces-
sarily, and on such trifling occasions, and are expressed with so much levity, as to call
imperiously for their erasement. As an example of this kind I may quote a scene in
the fifth act of Love's Labour's Lost, in which an allusion is made (very improperly) to
one of the most serious and awful passages in the New Testament. I flatter myself that
every reader of the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE will be pleased at perceiving that what is so
manifestly improper, is not permitted to be seen in it. The most Sacred Word in our
language is omitted in several instances, in which it appeared as a mere expletive ; and it
is changed into the word Heaven, in a still greater number, where the occasion of using
it did not appear sufficiently serious to justify its employment.
Nee Dcus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus.
In the original folio of 1623, the same alteration from the old quartos is made in a great
variety of places, and I have followed the folio.
I wish it were in my power to say of indecency as I have said of profaneness, that the
examples of it are not very numerous. Unfortunately the reverse is the case. Those
persons whose acquaintance with Shakspeare depends on theatrical representations, in
which great alterations are made in the plays, can have little idea of the frequent recur-
rence in the original text, of expressions, which, however they might be tolerated in the
sixteenth century, are by no means admissible in the nineteenth. Of these expressions
no example can in this place be given, for an obvious reason. I feel it, however, incum-
bent on me to observe, in behalf of my favourite author, that, in comparison with most
of the contemporary poets, and with the dramatists of the seventeenth century, the plays
Vlll PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
of Shakspeare arc remarkably decent ; but it is not sufficient that bis defects are trifling
in comparison with writers who are highly defective. It certainly is my wish, and it has
been my study, to exclude from this publication whatever is unfit to be read aloud by a
gentleman to a company of ladies. I can hardly imagine a more pleasing occupation
for a winter's evening in the country, than for a father to read one of Shakspeare's plays
to his family circle. My object is to enable him to do so without incurring the danger
of falling unawares among words and expressions which are of such a nature as to raise
a blush on the cheek of modesty, or render it necessary for the reader to pause, and exa-
mine the sequel, before he proceeds further in the entertainment of the evening. *
But though many erasures have for this purpose been made in the writings of Shak-
speare in the present edition, the reader may be assured that not a single line, nor even
the half of a line, has, in any one instance, been added to the original text. I know the
force of Shakspeare, and the weakness of my own pen, too well, to think of attempting
the smallest interpolation. In a few, but in very few instances, one or two words (at the
most three) have been inserted to connect the sense of what follows the passage that is
expunged with that which precedes it. The few words which are thus added, are con-
necting particles, words of little moment, and in no degree affecting the meaning of the
author, or the story of the play. A word that is less objectionable is sometimes substituted
for a synonymous word that is improper.
In the following work I have copied the text of the last Edition of the late Mr. Stee-
vens. This I have done so scrupulously, as seldom to have allowed myself to alter either
the words or the punctuation. Othello's speech, for example, in the second scene of the
fifth act, will be found as it is in Mr. Steevens, and in the old editions of Shakspeare, not
as it is usually spoken on the stage. In a few instances I have deviated from Mr. Steevens,
in compliance with the original folio of 1623. I do not presume to enter into any critical
disputes as to certain readings of " Judean or Indian," " Sables or Sable," or any thing
of that nature, respecting which many persons of superior abilities have entertained con-
trary opinions. The glossary (but nothing except the glossary) is borrowed from the
edition of 1803. It was compiled by Mr. Harris, under the direction of Mr. Steevens.
My great objects in this undertaking are to remove from the writings of Shakspeare
some defects which diminish their value, and at the same time to present to the Public
an edition of his plays, which the parent, the guardian, and the instructor of youth may
place, without fear, in the hands of the pupil ; and from which the pupil may derive in-
struction as well as pleasure ; may improve his moral principles while he refines his
taste ; and, without incurring the danger of being hurt with any indelicacy of expression,
may learn in the fate of Macbeth, that even a kingdom is dearly purchased, if virtue be
the price of the acquisition.
* My first idea of the FAMILY SHAKSPEARE arose from the recollection of my father's custom of reading
in this manner to his family. Shakspeare (with whom no person was better acquainted) was a frequent
subject of the evening's entertainment In the perfection of reading few men were equal to my father ;
and such was his good taste, his delicacy, and his prompt discretion, that his family listened with delight
to Lear, Hamlet, and Othello, without knowing that those matchless tragedies contained words and ex-
pressions improper to be pronounced ; and without having reason to suspect that any parts of the plays
had been omitted by the circumspect and judicious reader.
It afterwards occurred to me, that what my father did so readily and successfully for his family, my
inferior abilities might, with the assistance of time and mature consideration, be able to accomplish for
the benefit of the public. I say, therefore, that if " The Family Shakspeare " is entitled to any merit,
it originates with my father.
TEMPEST.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
ALONSO, King of Naples.
SEBASTIAN, his Brother.
PROSPERO, the rightful Duke of ^ Milan.
ANTONIO, his brother, the usurjnng Duke of Milan.
FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples.
GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor of Naples.
ADRIAN, \ T
FRANCISCO, j Lords '
CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave.
TRINCULO, a Jester.
STEPHANO, a drunken Sutler.
Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners.
SCENE, the Sea, with a Ship ;
MIRANDA, Daughter to Prospero.
ARIEL, an airy Spirit.
IRIS, "1
CERES,
JUNO, > Spirits.
Nymphs, I
Reapers, J
Other Spirits attending on Prospero.
afterwards an uninhabited Island.
'.' NO DOUBT SOM
TEMPEST.
ACT I.
SC K N E I . On a Shij, at Sea.
A storm with thunder and lightning.
Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain.
.] faster. Boatswain,
limits. Here, master : what cheer?
Master. Good : Speak to the mariners : fall to't
\arely ', or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir.
[Exit.
Enter Mariners.
Hoats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, my
hearts ; yare, yare : Take in the top-sail ; Tend to
tlu- master's whistle. Blow till thou burst thy
wind, if room enough !
l-'.nter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND,
GONZALO, and otlierx.
*-l/nn. Good boatswain, have care. Where's tin-
master ? IMay the men.
1 pray now, keep below.
Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ?
Hoats. Do you not hear him? You mar our
labour ! keep your cabins . you do assist the storm.
Con. Nay, good, be patient.
limits. When tin- >ea is. Hence! What rare
roarers for the name of kin-,'? To cabins .
silence . trouble us not.
I Gon. Good ; yet remember whom thou h;ist
i aboard.
7/oo/JS. None that I more love than myself. You
are a counsellor ; if you can command these ele-
| ments to silence, and work the peace of the present-,
we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority.
If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long,
and make yourself ready in your cabin for the
mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good
hearts. Out of our way, I say. [Exit.
Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow ;
niethinks, he hath no drowning mark upon him !
his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast,
good fate, to his hanging ; make the rope of his
destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage !
If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miser-
able. [Ercinit.
Re-enter Boatswain.
lioats. Down with the topmast; yare; lo\\.r.
lower ; bring her to try with main course. [A cry
within.'] A plague upon this howling! they are
louder than the weather, or our office
:\s. A s IDNID, and GONZALO.
Yet again ? what do you here? Shall we give o'er
and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ?
Scl>. \ plague o' your throat ! you bawling, blas-
phemous, uncharitable dog !
TEMPEST.
ACT I.
Boats. Work you, then.
Ant. Hang, cur, hang ! you insolent noise-maker,
we are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
Gon. I'll warrant him from drowning ; though
the ship were no stronger than a nut-shell.
Jioats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ; set her two
courses ; off to sea again, lay her off*.
Enter Mariners, wet.
Mar. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers! all lost !
[Exeunt.
Hants. What, must our mouths be cold ?
Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let us assist
them.
For our case is as theirs.
Seb. I am out of patience.
Ant. We are merely 3 cheated of our lives by
drunkards.
This wide-chapped rascal ; 'Would, thou might'st
lie drowning,
The washing of ten tides !
Gon. He'll be hang'd yet ;
Though every drop of water swear against it,
And gape at wid'st to glut him.
[A confused noise within.] Mercy on us ! We
split, we split ! Farewell, my wife and children !
Farewell, brother ; We split, we split, we split !
Ant. Let's all sink with the king. \Exit.
Sell. Let's take leave of him. [Exit.
Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of
sea for an acre of barren ground ! long heath, brown
furze, any thing : The wills above be done ! but I
would fain die a dry death. [Exit.
SCENE II. The Island: before the Cell of
Prospero.
Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA.
Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, you
have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them :
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd
With those that I saw suffer ! a brave vessel,
Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart ! Poor souls ! they perish'd.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallowed, and
The freighting souls within her.
Pro. Be collected ;
No more amazement : tell your piteous heart,
There's no harm done.
Mira. O, woe the day !
Pro. No harm.
f have done nothing but in care of thee,
'Of thee, my dear one ! thee, my daughter !) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.
Mira. More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.
/TO. 'Tis time
3 Absolutely.
I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me. So ;
[Lays down Ins mantle.
Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes ; have
comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink.
Sit down ;
For thou must now know further.
Mira. You have often
Begun to tell me what I am ; but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition ;
Concluding, Stay, not yet.
Pro. The hour's now come ;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ;
Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came into this cell ?
I do not think thou canst ; for then thou wast not
Out 4 three years old.
Mira. Certainly, sir, I can.
Pro. By what ? by any other house, or per
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.
Mira. 'TisfaroflT;
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants : Had I not
Four or five women once, that tended me ?
Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: But ho\
is it,
That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time ?
If thou remember'st aught, ere thou cam'st here,
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st.
Mira. But that I do not.
Pro. Twelve years since,
Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was
The duke of Milan, and a prince of power.
Mira. Sir, are not you my father ?
Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father
Was duke of Milan ; and his only heir
A princess ; no worse issued.
Mira. O, the heavens !
What foul play had we, that we came from thence ?
Or blessed was't we did ?
Pro. Both, both, my girl :
By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd
thence ;
But blessedly holp hither.
Mira. O, my heart bleeds
To think o' the teen 5 that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance ! Please you,
further.
Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd Anto-
nio,
I pray thee, mark me, that a brother should
Be so perfidious ! he whom, next thyself,
Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put
The manage of my state ; as, at that time,
Through all the signiories it was the first,
And Prospero the prime duke ; being so reputed
In dignity, and, for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel : those being all my study,
Quite.
SCENE II.
TEMPEST.
The government I cast upon my brother,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported,
And wrapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle
Dost thou attend me ?
Mira. Sir, most heedfully.
Pro. Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them ; whom to advance, and whom
To trash 6 for over-topping ; new-created
The creatures that were mine ; I say, or chang'd
tllL'lll,
Or else ncw-fonn'd them : having both the key
()!' officer and office, set all hearts
To what tune pleas'd his ear ; that now he was
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st
not :
I pray thee mark me.
Mira. O good sir, I do.
Pro. I thus neglecting wordly ends, all dedi-
cate
To closeness, and the bettering of my mind
With that, which, but by being so retir'd,
O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother
Awak'd an evil nature : and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of liim
A falsehood, in its contrary as great
As my trust was ; which had, indeed, no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact, like one
Who, having unto truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was the duke ; out of the substitution,
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative : Hence his ambition
Growing, Dost hear ?
Mira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
Pro. To have no skreen between this part he
play'd
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan : Me, poor man ! my library
Was dukedom large enough ; of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable : confederates
(So dry he was for sway) with the king of Naples,
To give him annual tribute, do him homage ;
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend
The dukedom, yet unbow'd (alas, poor Milan !)
To most ignoble stooping.
Mira. O the heavens !
Pro. Mark his condition, and the event ; then
tell me,
If this might be a brother.
Mir. I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother.
Pro. Now the condition.
This king of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he in lieu o' the premises,
Of homage, and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Ot:t of the dukedom ; and confer fair Milan,
^ ith all the honours, on my brother : Whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fat i-d to the purpose, did Antonio open
Milan ; and i' the dead of darkness,
Tin- ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.
6 Cut away.
Mira. Alack, for pity !
I, not rememb'ring how I cried out, then,
Will cry it o'er again, it is a hint,
That wrings mine eyes.
Pro. Hear a little further,
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon us; without the which, this
story
Were most impertinent.
Mira. Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us ?
Pro. Well demanded, wench ;
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst
not;
(So dear the love my people bore me) nor set
A mark so bloody on the business ; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark ;
Bore us some leagues to sea ; where they prepar'd
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it : there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us ; to sigh
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.
Mira. Alack ! what trouble
Was I then to you !
Pro. O ! a cherubim
Thou wast, that oia preserve me ! Thou diiUt
smile,
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt ;
Under my burden groan'd ; which rais'd in me
An undergoing stomach 7, to bear up
Against what should ensue.
Mira. How came we ashore ?
Pro. By Providence divine.
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity (who being then appointed
Master of this design), did give us ; with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries,
Winch since have steaded much ; so, of his gen-
tleness,
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me,
From my own library, with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.
Mira. 'Would 1 might
But ever see that man !
Pro. Now I arise :
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arriv'd ; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princes can, that have more time
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful.
Mira. Heavens thank you for't ! And now I
pray you, sir,
(For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason
For raising this sea-storm ?
Pro. Know thus far forth.
By accident most strange, bountiful fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore : and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star ; whose influence
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop. Here cease more ques-
tions;
? Stubborn resolution.
B 2
TEMPEST.
ACT I
Thou art incliu'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulm-ss,
And give it way; I know thou canst not choose
[MlftAjfDA sleeps.
Come away, servant, come : I am ready now :
Approach, my Ariel ; come.
Enter ARIEL.
An. All hail, great master ! grave sir, hail ! I
come
To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds ; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality.
Pro. Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point 8 the tempest that I bade thee ?
Ari. To every article.
I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement : Sometimes, I'd divide,
And burn in many places ; on the top-mast,
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet, and join : Jove's lightnings, the precur-
sors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not : The fire, and
cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.
Pro. My brave spirit !
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 9
Would not infect his reason ?
Ari. Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd
Some tricks of desperation : All, but mariners,
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd.
Pro. Why, that's my spirit !
But was not this nigh shore?
Ari. Close by, my master.
Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe ?
Ari. Not a hair perish'd ;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before ; and, as thou bad'st me,
In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle :
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.
Pro. Of the king's ship,
The mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd,
And all the rest o' the fleet ?
4ri. Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes ', there she's hid :
The mariners all under hatches stow'd ;
Whom, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep : and for the rest o' the fleet,
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again ;
And are upon the Mediterranean flote -,
Bound sadly home for Naples ;
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd,
And his great person perish.
Pro. Ariel, thy charge
8 The minutest article,
i Bermudas.
9 Bustle, tumult.
3 Wave.
Exactly is perform 'd; but there's more work :
What is the time o' the day ?
Ari. Past the mid season.
Pro. At least two glasses : The time 'twixt six
and now,
Must by us both be spent most preciously.
Ari. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give
me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd,
Which is not yet perform'd me.
Pro. How now ? moody ?
What is't thou canst demand ?
Ari. . My liberty.
Pro. Before the time be out ? no more.
Ari. I pray thee
Remember, I have done thee worthy service ;
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst
promise
To bate me a full year.
Pro. Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee ?
Ari. No.
Pro. Thou dost ; and think'st
It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep ;
To run upon the sharp wind of the north ;
To do me business in the veins o' the earth,
When it is bak'd with frost.
Art. I do not, sir.
Pro. Thou liest, malignant thing ! Hast thou
forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy,
Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ?
Ari. No, sir.
Pro. Thou hast : where was she born ?
speak ; tell me.
Ari. Sir, in Argier. 3
Pro. O, was she so ? I must,
Once in a month, recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This vile witch, Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd ; for one thing she did,
They would not take her life : Is not this true ?
Ari. Ay, sir.
Pro. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with
child,
And here was left by the sailors : Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant :
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthly and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests 4 , she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine ; within which rift
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain
A dozen years ; within which space she died,
And left thee there ; where thou didst vent thy
groans,
As fast as mill-wheels strike: Then was this island
( Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour'd with
A human shape.
Ari. Yes ; Caliban her son.
Pro. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Caliban,
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in : thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Algiers.
4 Commands.
SCENE II.
TEMPEST.
()f\ \er-angry hears. This Sycorax
Could not again undo ; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd, and heard tliee, that made gape
Tlie pine, and let thee out.
An. I thank thee, master.
Pro. If thou more munnnr'st, I will rend an oak,
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.
Ari. Pardon, master :
I will be correspondent to command,
And do my spriting gently.
Pro. Do so ; and after two days
1 will discharge thee.
Ari. That's my noble master !
What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
Pro. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea;
lie subject to no sight but mine; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go take this shape,
And hither come iu't : hence, with diligence.
[Exit ARIEL.
A wake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ;
Awake !
Mint. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.
/V.i. Shake it off: Come on,
We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.
Mini. 'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.
Pro. But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him : he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood ; and serves in offices
That profit us. What ho ! slave ! Caliban,
Thou earth, thou ! speak.
Cal. [Within.] There's wood enough within.
Pro. Come forth, I say : there's other business
for thee :
Come forth, thou tortoise ! when ?
Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph.
Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.
Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit.
Pro. Thou poisonous slave, come forth !
Enter CALIBAN.
Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye,
And blister you all o'er !
Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have
cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins 5
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee : thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honey-combs, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made them.
Cal. I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest
first,
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ;
would'st give me
Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee,
And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
Fairies.
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fer-
tile; "
Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you !
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king : and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest of the island.
Pro. Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness ! I have us'd
thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care ; and lodg'd thee
In mine own cell, till thou did'st seek to violate
The honour of my child. Abhorred slave ;
Which any print of goodness will not take,
Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known : But thy vile
race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good
natures
Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confin'd into this rock,
Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison.
Cal. You taught me language ; and my profit on t
Is, I know how to curse : the red plague rid 6 you,
For learning me your language !
Pro. Hag-seed, hence !
Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou wert best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice ?
If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ;
Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar,
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
Cal. No, 'pray thee !
I must obey : his art is of such power, [Aside.
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.
Pro. So, slave ; hence !
[Exit CALIBAN.
Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing and singing}
FERVIVAV of allowing him.
ARIEL'S Song.
Come unto these yellow sands
And then take hands :
Court" sied when you have, and kiss'd,
(The wild waves whist ")
Foot itfeatly here and there ;
And, sweet sprites, tlie burden tear.
Hark, hark /
Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. [iliyersedly.
The watch-dogs bark :
Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. [dispcrscdly.
Hark, hark ! 7 hear
The strain of strutting chanticlere
Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.
Fer. Where should this musick be ? i' the air, or
the earth ?
It sounds no more : and sure, it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again tlie king my father's wreck,
This musick crept by me upon the waters ;
6 Destroy.
7 Being stilled, silenced.
B 3
TEMPEST.
ACT I. SCENE II.
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air ; thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather : But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
ARIEL sings.
Full fathom Jive thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made ;
Those are pearls, that were his eyes :
Nothing of him that doth fade,
Hut doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Hark ! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.
[Burden, ding-dong.
Per. The ditty does remember my drown'd fa-
ther :
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes 8 : I hear it now above me.
Pro. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say, what thou seest yond'.
Mira. What is't ? a spirit ?
See how it looks about ! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form : But 'tis a spirit.
Pro. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps, and hath
such senses
As we have, such : This gallant which thou seest,
Was in the wreck ; and but he's something stain'd
With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st
call him
A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.
Mira. I might call him
A thing divine ; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
Pro. It goes on, [Aside.
As my soul prompts it : Spirit, fine spirit ! I'll
free thee
Within two days for this.
Fer. Most sure the goddess
On whom these airs attend ! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know, if you remain upon this island ;
And that you will some good instruction give,
How I may bear me here : My prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder !
If you be maid, or no ?
Mira. No wonder, sir;
But, certainly a maid.
Fer. My language ; heavens !
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Pro. How ! the best ?
What wert thou, if the king of Naples heard thee ?
Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples : He does hear me ;
And, that he does, I weep : myself am Naples ;
Who with mine eyes, ne'er since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.
Mira. Alack, for mercy !
Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords ; the duke of
Milan,
And his brave son being twain.
Pro. The duke of Milan,
And his more braver daughter, could controls thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't : At the first sight
[Aside.
They have chang'd eyes : Delicate Ariel,
Owns.
p Confute.
I'll set thee free for this ! A word, good sir ;
I fear, you have done yourself some wrong : a word.
Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently ? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw ; the first
That e'er I sigh'd for : pity move my father
To be inclin'd my way !
Fer. O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples !
p ro . Soft, sir ; one word more.
They are both in either's powers ; but this swift
business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [Aside.
Make the prize light. One word more ; I charge
thee,
That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp
The name thou ow'st not ; and hast put thyself
Upon this island, as a spy to win it
From me, the lord on't.
Per. No, as I am a man.
Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a
temple :
If the ill spirit have so fair an house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.
p^o. Follow me. [To FERD.
Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. Come.
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together :
Sea-water shalt thou drink, thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled : Follow.
Fer. No ;
I will resist such entertainment, till
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws.
Mira. O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful. '
Pro. "What, I say,
My foot my tutor ! Put thy sword up, traitor ;
Who mak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy con-
science
Is so possess'd with guilt : come from thy ward - ;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira. Beseech you father !
Pro. Hence ; hang not on my garments.
Mira. Sir, have pity ;
I'll be his surety.
Pro. Silence : one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What !
An advocate for an impostor ? hush !
Thou think'st there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban : Foolish wench !
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Mira. My affections
Are then most humble ; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Pro. Come on; obey: [To FERD.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer. So they are :
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.
i Frightful. 2 Guard
ACT II. SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
Pro. It works : Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel ! Follow me.
[To FERD. and MIR.
Hark, what thou else shall do me. [To ARIEL.
Mi''"- Be of comfort ;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.
Pro- Thou shalt be as free
As mountain winds : but then exactly do
All points of my command.
Ari - To the syllable.
Pro. Come, follow : speak not for him. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Another part of the Island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.
Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry : you have caus<
(So have we all) of joy ; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss : our hint of woe
Is common ; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe : but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.
4lon. Pr'ythee, peace !
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit
By and by it will strike.
Gon. Sir, -
Seb. One : - Tell.
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's
offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer _
A dollar.
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have
spoken truer than you purposed.
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you
should.
Gon. Therefore, my lord,
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue !
Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.
Gon. Well, I have done : But yet _
Seb. He will be talking.
Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good
wager, first begins to crow ?
Seb. The old cock.
Ant. Thecockrel.
Seb. Done : the wager ?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match.
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, _
Seb. Ha, ha, ha !
Ant. So you've pay'd.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible.
AVA. Yet.
Adr. Yet
Ant. He could not miss it.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most swri-t I y.
Con. Here is every thing advantageous to life.'
Ant. True ; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush s and lusty the grass looks ! how
-
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye* of green in't
3 Rank.
< Shade of colour.
Ant. He misses not much.
Seb. No : he doth but mistake the truth totally.
Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed
almost beyond credit)
Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.
Gon. That our garments, being, as they were,
drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their
freshness, and glosses ; being rather new dy'd, than
stain'd with salt water.
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak,
would it not say, he lies ?
Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh
as when we put them on first in Afric, at tht mar-
riage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king
of Tunis.
Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper
well in our return.
Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a
paragon to their queen.
Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant. How came that widow in ? Widow Dido !
Seb. What if he had said, widower JEneas too ?
good lord, how you take it !
Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me
study of that : she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
Adr. Carthage?
Gon. I assure you, Carthage.
Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy
next?
Seb. I think, he will carry this island home in
lis pocket, and give it his soil for an apple.
Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea,
bring forth more islands.
Gon. Ay?
Ant. Why, in good time.
Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments
2em now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis at the
marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.
Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido ; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first
lay I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar-
riage ?
Alon. You cram these words into mine cars
against
[Tie stomach of my sense : 'Would I had never
Carried my daughter there! for, coming thence,
ify son is lost ; and, in my rate, she too,
Vho is so far from Italy removed,
B 4
8
TEMPEST.
ACT II
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee !
Fran. Sir, he may live j
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve liim ; I not doubt,
He came alive to land.
Alon. No, no, he's gone.
Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great
loss ;
That would not bless our Europe with your daugh-
ter,
But rather lose her to an African ;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Alon. Pr'ythee, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd other-
wise
By all of us ; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost
your son,
I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
Than we bring men to comfort them : The fault's
Your own.
Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in : you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.
Seb. Very well.
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Seb. Foul weather ?
Ant. Very foul.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
Seb. Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, What would I
do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by con-
traries
Execute all things : for no kind of traffic
Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ;
Letters should not be known ; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty ; no contracts,
Succession ; bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none :
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil :
No occupation ; all men idle, all ;
And women too ; but innocent and pure : ^
No sovereignty :
Seb. And yet he would be king on't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets
the beginning.
Gon. All things in common nature should pro-
duce,
Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foison , all abundance,
5 Plenty.
To feed my innocent people.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb. 'Save his majesty !
Ant. Long live Gonzalo \
Gon. And, do you mark me, sir ?
Alon. Pry'thee, no more : thou dost talk nothing
to me.
Gon. I do well believe your highness ; and did
it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are
of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always
use to laugh at nothing.
Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am
nothing to you ; so you may continue, and laugh
at nothing still.
Ant. What a blow was there given !
Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.
Gon. You are gentlemen of brave metal : you
would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would
continue in it five weeks without changing.
Enter ARIEL invisible) playing solemn music.
Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
Gon. No, I warrant you ; I will not adventure
my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep,
for I am very heavy ?
Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.
[All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT.
Alon. What, all so soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : I
find
They are inclin'd to do so.
Seb. Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it :
It seldom visits sorrow : when it doth,
It is a comforter.
Ant. We two, my lord,
Will guard your person, while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon. Thank you : wondrous heavy.
[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them !
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink ? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent ;
They dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian ? O, what might ? No
more :
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be : the occasion speaks thee ;
and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb. What, art thou waking ?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak ?
Seb. I do ; and surely,
It is a sleepy language ; and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep : What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.
Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep die rather ; wink'st
Wliilcs thou art waking
SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
Scb. Thou dost snore distinctly ;
There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you
Must be so too, if heed me j which to do,
Trebles thee o'er.
Seb. Well ; I am standing water.
Ant- I'll teach you how to flow.
Do so : to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Ant. O,
If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whiles thus you mock it ! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it ! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run,
By their own fear, or sloth.
Seb. Pr'ythee, say on :
The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee ; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.
Ant. Thus, sir,
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
(Who shall be of as little memory,
"When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded
(For he's a spirit of persuasion only,)
The king his son's alive : 'tis as impossible
That he's undrown'd as he that sleeps here, swims.
Seb. I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
Ant. O, out of that no hope,
What great hope have you ! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with
me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd ?
Seb. He's gone.
Ant. Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples ?
Seb. Claribel.
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis ; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from
Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post,
(The man i' the moon's too slow) till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable : she, from whom
We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again ;
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act,
Whereof what's past is prologue ; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.
Seb. What stuff' is this ? How say you ?
Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ;
So is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.
Ant. A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Xnples ? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake ! Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no worse
Than now they are : there be, that can rule Naples
As \\i-ll as IK- that Bleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily,
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A though 6 of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this
\ our advancement ! Do you understand me ?
Seb. Mcthinks 1 do.
Anl. And how docs your content
Tender your own good fortune ?
6 A bird of the jackdaw kind.
Seb. I remember,
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant. True ;
And, look, how well my garments sit upon me ;
Much feater than before : My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience
Ant. Ay, sir ; where lies that ? if it were a kybe,
'Twould put me to my slipper ; but I feel not
This deity in my bosom : twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, ere they molest ! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like ; whom I,
With this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever : whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk ;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.
Seb. Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent ; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st ;
And I the king shall love thee.
Ant. Draw together :
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb. O, but one word !
[They converse apart.
Music. He-enter ARIEL, invisible.
Art. My master through his art foresees the danger
That these, his friends, are in ; and sends me forth,
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living.
[Sings in GONZALO'S ear.
While you here do snoring lie,
Qpen-eyd conspiracy
His time doth take :
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake ! awake !
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king !
[They wake.
Alan. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are
you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking ?
Gon. What's the matter ?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions ; did it not wake you ?
It struck mine ear most terribly.
Alon. I heard nothing.
Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's car ;
To make an earthquake ! sure it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo ?
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, 1 heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me :
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd : as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn : there was a noise,
That's verity : 'Best stand upon our guard ;
Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead oil' this ground ; and let's make fur-
ther search
For my poor son.
10
TEMPEST.
ACT II. SCENE II.
Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts !
For he is, sure, i' the island.
Alon. Lead away.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have
done : [Aside.
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Another part of the Island.
Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood.
A noise of thunder heard.
Col. All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make
him
By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but
For every trifle are they set upon me :
Sometime like apes, that moe 7 and chatter at me,
And after, bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their bristles at my foot-fall ; sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues,
Do hiss me into madness : Lo ! now ! lo !
Enter TRINCULO.
Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me,
For bringing wood in slowly : I'll fall flat ;
Perchance, he will not mind me.
Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing ; I
hear it sing i' the wind : yond' same black cloud,
yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard 8 that
would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it
did before, I know not where to hide my head :
yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.
What have we here ? a man or a fish ? dead or alive ?
A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient arid fish-
like smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John.
A strange fish ! Were I in England now (as once I
was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday-
fool there but would give a piece of silver : there
would this monster make a man ; any strange beast
there makes a man : when they will not give a doit
to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to
see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man ! and his fins
like arms ! Warm, o' my troth ! I do now let loose
my opinion, hold it no longer ; this is no fish, but an
islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt.
[ Thunder.] Alas ! the storm is come again : my best
way is to creep under his gaberdine 9 ; there is no
other shelter hereabout : Misery acquaints a man
with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud, till
the dregs of the storm be past.
Enter STEPHANO, singing ; a bottle in his hand.
Ste. / shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die a-shore ;
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral :
Well, here's my comfort. [Drinks.
The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,
' Make mouths.
A black jack of leather to hold beer.
3 The frock of a peasant.
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car 'd for Kate :
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang :
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.
This is a scurvy tune too : But here's my comfort.
[Drinks.
Col. Do not torment me : O !
Ste. What's the matter ? Have we devils here ?
Do you put tricks upon us with savages, and men
of Inde ? ' Ha ! I have not scap'd drowning, to be
afeard now of your four legs ; for it hath been said,
As proper a man as ever went on four legs, cannot
make him give ground : and it shall be said so again,
while Stephano breathes at nostrils.
Cal. The spirit torments me : O !
Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with four
legs ; who hath got, as I take it, an ague : Where
the devil should he learn our language ? I will give
him some relief, if it be but for that : If I can re-
cover him, and keep him tame, and get to Naples
with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever
trod on neat's leather.
Cal. Do not torment me, pr'ythee ;
I'll bring my wood home faster.
Ste. He's in his fit now ; and does not talk after
the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if he have
never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove
his fit : If I can recover him, and keep him tame, I
will not take too much for him : he shall pay for
him that hath him, and that soundly.
Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou wilt
Anon, I know it by thy trembling :
Now Prosper works upon thee.
Ste. Come on your ways ; open your mouth ;
here is that which will give language to you, cat ;
open your mouth : this will shake your shaking, I
can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell
who's your friend : open your chaps again.
Trin. I should know that voice : It should be
But he is drowned ; and these are devils : O ! de-
fend me !
Ste. Four legs, and two voices ; a most delicate
monster ! If all the wine in my bottle will recover
him, I will help his ague : Come, I will pour some
in thy other mouth.
Trin. Stephano !
Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me ? Mercy !
mercy ! This is a devil, and no monster ! I will
leave him ; I have no long spoon.
Trin. Stephano ! if thou beest Stephano, touch
me, and speak to me ; for I am Trinculo ; be not
afeard, thy good friend Trinculo.
Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth ; I'll puil
thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs,
these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed !
How cam'st thou to be the siege "- of this moon-calf?
Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-
stroke : But art thou not drowned, Stephano ?
I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown ? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's
gaberdine, for fear of the storm : And art thou
living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans
Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about ; my stomach
is not constant.
Cal. These be fine things, an if they be not
sprites.
1 India, 2 Stool
ACT III. SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
11
That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor :
I will kneel to him.
Ste. How did'st thou scape ? How cam'st thou
hither? swear by this bottle, how thou cam'st hither.
I escaped upon a butt of sack, which the sailors
heaved overboard, by this bottle ! which I made of
the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was
cast ashore.
Col. I'll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy
True subject ; for the liquor is not earthly.
Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escap'dst.
Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck ; I can
swim like a duck, I'll be sworn.
Ste. Here, kiss the book : Though thou canst
swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose.
Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this ?
Ste. The whole butt, man ; my cellar is in a rock
by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now,
moon-calf? how does thine ague?
Col. Hast thou not dropped from heaven ?
Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was
the man in the moon, when time was.
Col. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee ;
My mistress showed me thee, thy dog and bush.
Ste. Come, swear to that ; kiss the book : I will
furnish it anon with new contents : swear.
Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow
monster : I afeard of him ? a very weak monster :
The man i' the moon ? a most poor credulous
monster : Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.
Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' the island :
111 kiss thy foot : I'll swear myself thy subject.
Ste. Come on, then ; down and swear.
Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-
1 leaded monster : A most scurvy monster ! I could
find in my heart to beat him,
Ste. Come, kiss.
Trin. but that the poor monster's in drink.
An abominable monster !
Oil. I'll show thee the best springs ; I'll pluck
thee berries ;
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve !
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.
Trin. A most ridiculous monster ! to make a
wonder of a poor drunkard.
Cal. I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ;
Shew thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet ; I'll bring thee
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young sea-mells 3 from the rock : Wilt thou go with
me ?
Ste. I pr'ythee now lead the way, without any
more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our com-
pany else being drowned, we will inherit here.
Here ; bear my bottle. Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill
him by and by again.
Cal. Farewell, master ; farewell, farewell.
[Sings drunkenly.
Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster.
Cal. No more dams Fll make for Jtsh ;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape trencliering, nor wash dish ;
'Jian 'Ban, Ca Caliban
Has a new master Get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom ! freedom,
hey-day, freedom !
Ste. O brave monster ! lead the way.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Sef ore Prosperous Cell.
Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log.
Fcr. There be some sports are painful ; but their
labour
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious ; but
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead,
And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ;
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up,
I I IDII a sore injunction : My sweet mistress
\V LV jis when she sees me work; and says, such
baseness
Had ne'er like Executor. I forget:
Hut these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ;
Most busy-U-^. \\hen I do it.
Enter MIRANDA ; and PROSFERO at a distance.
Mira. Alas, now ! pray you
Work not so hard . I would the lightning had
Hm m up those logs, that you arc enjoin'd to pile !
Pray set it down, and rest you : when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you : My father
Is hard at study ; pray now rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.
Fer. O most dear mistress,
The sun will set, before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.
Mira. If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the wliile : Pray, give me that ;
I'll carry it to the pile.
Fer. No, precious creature :
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.
Mira. It would become me
As well as it does you : and I should do it
With much more ease ; for my good will is to it,
And yours against.
p ro . Poor worm ! thou art infected ;
This visitation shows it.
Mira. You look wearily.
Fer. No, noble mistress ; 'tis fresh morning with
me,
When you are by at night. I do beseech you,
3 Sea gulls.
12
TEMPEST.
ACT III.
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,)
What is your name ?
Mira. Miranda : O my father,
I have broke your host * to say so !
Fer. Admir'd Miranda !
Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth
What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady
I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a time
T!H' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues
Have I lik'd several women ; never any
With so full soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd & ,
And put it to the foil : But you, O you,
So perfect, and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best.
Mira. I do not know
One of my sex ; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen
More that I may call men, than you, good friend,
And my dear father : how features are abroad,
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty,
(The jewel in my dower,) I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you ;
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of : but I prattle
Sometliing too wildly, and my father's precepts
Therein forget.
Fer. I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda ; I do think, a king ;
(I would, not so !) and would no more endure
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul
speak ;
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service ; there resides,
To make me slave to it ; and, for your sake,
Am I this patient log-man.
Mira. Do you love me ?
Fer* O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this
sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If 1 speak true ! if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me, to mischief ! I,
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world,
Do love, prize, honour you.
Mira. I am a fool,
To weep at what I am glad of.
Pro. Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between them !
Fer. Wherefore weep you ?
Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not
offer
What I desire to give ; and much less take,
What I shall die to want : but this is trifling ;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning !
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence !
I am your wife, if you will marry me ;
If not, I'll die your maid : to be your fellow
You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.
Fer. My mistress, dearest,
And I thus humble ever.
Mira. My husband then ?
Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom ; here's my hand.
Command.
Own'd.
Mira. And mine, with my heart in't : And now
farewell,
Till half an hour hence.
Fer. A thousand ! thousand !
[Exeunt FER. and MIR.
Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be,
Who are surpris'd with all ; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book ;
For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform
Much business appertaining. [Exit.
SCENE II. Another part of the Island.
Enter STEPHANO and TRINCUJLO ; CALIBAN following
with a bottle.
Ste. Tell not me ; when the butt is out, we
will drink water ; not a drop before : therefore
bear up and board 'em : Servant-monster, drink
to me.
Trin. Servant-monster ? the folly of this island !
They say, there's but five upon this isle : we are
three of them ; if the other two be brained like us,
the state totters.
Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee ; thy
eyes are almost set in thy hea'd.
Trin. Where should they be set else ?
Ste. My man-monster hath drowned his tongue
in sack : for my part, the sea cannot drown me : I
swam, ere I could recover the shore, five-and-thirty
leagues, off and on, by this light. Thou shalt be
my lieutenant, monster, or my standard.
Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no
standard.
Ste. We'll not run, monsieur monster.
Trin. Nor go neither : but you'll lie, like dogs ;
and yet say nothing neither.
Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou
beest a good moon-calf.
Col. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy
shoe : I'll not serve him, he is not valiant.
Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; I am
in case to justle a constable : Was there ever man
a coward, that hath drunk so much sack as I to-
day ? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half
a fish, and half a monster ?
Col. Lo, how he mocks me ! wilt thou let him,
my lord ?
Trin. Lord, quoth he ! that a monster should
be such a natural !
Col. Lo, lo, again ! bite him to death, I pr'ythee.
Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head ;
if you prove a mutineer, the next tree The poor
monster's my subject, and he shall not suffer indig-
nity.
Col. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd
To hearken once again the suit I made thee ?
Ste. Marry will I : kneel, and repeat it ; I will
stand, and so shall Trinculo.
Enter ARIEL, invisible.
Col. As I told thee
Before, I am subject to a tyrant ;
A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath
Cheated me of this island.
Ari. Thou liest.
Col. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou ;
I would my valiant master would destroy thee :
I do not lie.
Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in his
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of youi
teeth.
SCENE III.
TEMPEST.
13
Trlii. Why, I said nothing.
Sle. Mum then, and no more. [To CALIBAN.]
1 Yoceed.
Col. I say, by sorcery he got this isle ;
I'Yom me he got it. If thy greatness will
Revenge it on him for, I know, thou dar'st ;
But this tiling dare not.
Stc. That's most certain.
Col. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee.
iV/f. How now shall this .be compassed ? Canst
thou bring me to the party ?
(\tl. Yea, yea, my lord : I'll yield him thec asleep,
Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head.
Ari. Thou liest, thou canst not.
Cal. What a pied ninny's this ! 6 Thou scurvy
patch !
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows,
And take his bottle from him : when that's gone,
1 Ie si mil drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show
him
Where the quick freshes 7 are.
Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger : inter-
rupt the monster one word further, and, by this
hand, I'll turn my mercy out of doors, and make a
Murk-fish of thee.
Trin. Why, what did I ? I did nothing ; I'll go
further off.
Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied ?
Ari. Thou liest.
Stc. Do I so? take thou that. [Strikes ldm.~\ As
you like this, give me the lie another time.
Trin. I did not give the lie : Out o' your wits,
and hearing too ? This can sack and drinking do.
A murrain on your monster, and the devil take
your fingers '
Col. Ha, ha, ha !
Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Pr'ythee
stand further off'.
CaL Beat him enough : after a little time,
I'll beat him too.
Ste. Stand further. Come, proceed.
Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him
1' the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain
him,
Having first seiz'd his books ; or with a log
I latter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand 8 with thy knife : Remember,
First to possess his books ; for without them
I Ii-'s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command : They all do hate him,
As rootedly as I : Burn but his books ;
He has brave utensils, (for so he calls them,)
Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal.
And that most deeply to consider, is
The beauty of his daughter ; he himself
Calls her a nonpareil : I ne'er saw woman,
lut only Sycorax my dam and she ;
Hut she as far surpasseth Sycorax,
As greatest does least.
Me. Is it so brave a lass ?
CaL Ay, my lord; she will become thy bed, I
warrant,
And bring thee forth brave brood.
Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter
find I will ho kiiiir an.l queen ; (save our graces! )
and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys: Dost
thou like the plot, Trinculo?
Trin. Excellent.
8 Alluding to Trinculo 's party-coloured dross
7 Springs. 8 Throat.
Ste. Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat thee :
but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy
head.
Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep ;
Wilt thou destroy him then ?
Ste. Ay, on mine honour.
Ari. This will I tell my master.
Cal. Thou mak'st me merry : I am full of plea-
sure ;
Let us be jocund : Will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere ?
Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do reason,
any reason : Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Singi.
Flout 'em, and skout 'em; and skout 'em, and
Jlout 'em ;
Thought is free.
Cal. That's not the tune.
[ ARLEL plays the tune on a tabor and jripe.
Ste. What is this same ?
Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by
the picture of No-body.
Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy like-
ness : if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.
Trin. O, forgive me my sins !
Ste. Mercy upon us !
Cal. Art thou afeard ?
Ste. No, monster, not I.
Cal. Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears ; and sometimes voices,
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming,
The clouds, methought, would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd,
I cry'd to dream again.
Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me,
where I shall have my musick for nothing.
Cal. When Prospero is destroyed.
Ste. That shall be by and by : I remember the
story.
Trin. The sound is going away : let's follow it,
and after, do our work.
Ste. Lead, monster ; we'll follow. I would I
could see this taborer : he lays it on.
TVzw.Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. AnotJierpart of the Island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.
Gon. By'r lakin 9, I can go no further, sir ;
My old bones ache : here's a maze trod, indeed,
Through forth-rights, and meanders ! by your pa-
tience,
I needs must rest me.
Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee
Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
To the dulling of my spirits : sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it
No longer for my flatterer : he is drown'd,
Whom thus we stray to find ; and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land : well, let him go.
Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope.
[Asitle to SEBASTIAN.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose-
That you resolv'd to effect.
Our lady.
H
TEMPEST.
ACT III. SCENE III.
The next advantage
Seb.
Will we take thoroughly.
Ant. Let it be to-night ;
For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance,
As when they are fresh.
Sub. I say, to-night : no more.
Solemn and strange Musick ; and PROSPERO above,
invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing
in a Banquet ; they dance about it with gentle ac-
tions <y salutation ; and, inviting the King, $c. to
eat, they depart.
Alon. What harmony is this ? my good friends,
hark !
Gon. Marvellous sweet musick !
Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens ! What
were these ?
Seb. A living drollery ^ : Now I will believe,
That there are unicorns ; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne ; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.
Ant. I'll believe both ;
And what does else want credit, come to me,
And I'll be sworn 'tis true : Travellers ne'er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn them.
Gon. If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me ?
If I should say I saw such islanders,
(For, certes, these are people of the island,)
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many, nay, almost any.
Pro. Honest lord,
Thou hast said well ; for some of you there present
Are worse than devils. [Aside.
Alon. I cannot too much muse,
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, ex-
pressing
( Although they want the use of tongue) a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.
Pro- Praise in departing.
[Aside.
Fran. They vanish'd strangely.
Seb. No matter, since
They have left their viands behind ; for we have
stomachs.
Will't please you taste of what is here ?
Alon. Not I.
Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear : When we
were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers,
Devr-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging
at them
Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men,
Whose heads stood in their breasts ? which now we
find,
Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us
Good warrant of.
Alon. I will stand to, and feed,
Although rny last : no matter, since I feel
The best is past : Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to, and do as we.
Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL like a harpy ;
claps his ivings upon the table, and, ivith a quaint
device, the banquet vanishes.
' Show.
Ariel. You are three men of sin, whom destiny
(That hath to instrument this lower world,
And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to throw up ; and on this island
Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ;
[Seeing ALON. SEB. <$<;. draw their swords.
And even with such like valour, men hang and
drown
Their proper selves. You fools ! I and my fellows
Are ministers of fate ; the elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle 2 that's in my plume ; my fellow-ministers
Are like invulnerable : if you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,
And will not be uplifted : But remember,
(For that's my business to you,) that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero ;
Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him, and his innocent child ; for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
Against your peace : Thee of thy son, Alonso,
They have bereft ! and do pronounce by me,
Lingering perdition (worse than any death
Can be at once) shall step by step attend
You, and your ways ; whose wraths to guard you
from
(Which here, in this most desolate isle ; else falls
Upon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sorrow,
And a clear 3 life ensuing.
He vanishes in thunder : then, to soft musick, enter
the Shapes again, and dance ivith mops and moives,
and carry out the table.
Pro. [Aside.] Bravely the figure of this harpy
hast thou
Perform'd, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring :
Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated,
In what thou hadst to say : so, with good life,
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done : my high charms
work,
And these, mine enemies, are all knit up
In their distractions : they now are in my power ;
And in these fits I leave them, whilst I visit
Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is drown'd,)
And his and my loved darling.
[Exit PROSPERO/rom above.
Gon. I' the name of something holy, sir, why
stand you
Jn this strange stare?
Alon. O, it is monstrous ! monstrous !
Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it ;
The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd
The name of Prosper ; it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded ; and
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded,
And with him there lie mudded. [Exit.
Seb. But one fiend at a time,
I'll fight their legions o'er.
Ant. I'll be thy second.
[Exeunt SEB. and ANT.
Gon. All three of them are desperate ; their great
guilt,
2 Down.
3 Pure, blameless.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
15
Like poison given to work a great time after,
Now 'gins to bite the spirits : I do beseech
you
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,
And hinder them from what this ecstacy *
May now provoke them to.
Adr. Follow, I p/ay you.
[Exeunt
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Before Prospero's Cell.
Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA.
P, o. If I have too austerely punish 'd you,
Your compensation makes amends ; for I
Have given you here a thread of mine own life,
Or that for which I live ; whom once again
I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test : here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me, that I boast her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,
And make it halt behind her.
Per. I do believe it,
Against an oracle.
Pro. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchas'd, take my child, but not
Till sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rites be minister'd.
Then Hymen's lamps shall light you.
Fer. As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue, and long life,
With such love as 'tis now ; the strong'st suggestion
Our worser Genius can, shall never taint
My honour.
Pro. Fairly spoke :
Sit then, and talk with her, she is thine own.
What, Ariel ; my industrious servant Ariel !
Enter ARIEL.
Ari. What would my potent master ? here I am.
Pro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
Did worthily perform ; and I must use you
In such another trick : go, bring the rabble,
O'er whom I give thee power, here, to this place :
Incite them to quick motion ; for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
Some vanity of mine art ; it is my promise,
And they expect it from me.
Ari. Presently ?
Pro. Ay, with a twink.
Ari. Before you can say, Come, and go,
And breathe twice; and cry, so, so;
Each one, tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and mowe :
Do you love me, master ? no.
Pro. Dearly, my delicate Ariel : Do not approach,
Till thou dost hear me call.
Ari. Well I conceive. [Exit.
Pro. Look, thou be true.
Fer. I warrant you, sir.
Pro. Well.
Now come, my Ariel ; bring a corollary ,
Rather than want a spirit ; appear, and pertly.
No tongue ; all eyes ; be silent. [Soft musick.
A Masque. Enter IRIS.
Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peas ;
Surplus.
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to kee
Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest 6 betrims,
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy
broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn j thy pole-clipt vineyard ;
And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air : The queen o' the sky,
Whose wat'ry arch, and messenger, am I,
Bids thee leave these ; and with her sovereign grace,
Here, on this grass-plot, in this very place,
To come and sport : her peacocks fly amain ;
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
Enter CERES.
Cer. Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ;
Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers ;
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
My bosky 7 acres, and my unshrubb'd down,
Rich scarf to my proud earth ; Why hath thy queen
Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green ?
Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate ;
And some donation freely to estate
On the bless'd lovers.
Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow,
If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know,
Do now attend the queen ? since they did plot
The means, that dusky Dis my daughter got
Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company
I have forsworn.
7m. Of her society
Be not afraid : I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos ; and her son
Dove-drawn with her.
Cer. Highest queen of state,
Great Juno comes : I know her by her gait.
Enter JUNO.
Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go with
me,
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be,
And honour'd in their issue.
SONG.
Juno. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you !
Juno sings her blessings on you.
Cer. Earth's increase, and foison 9 plenty ;
Barns, and garners never empty ;
I' i nes with clustering bunches growing;
Plants, with goodly burden bowing ;
5 Alienation of mind
> Woody. Plutft
6 Command.
Abundance.
16
TEMPEST.
ACT IV.
Spring come to you, at the farthest,
the very end of harvest !
Scarcity and want shall shun you ;
Ceres' blessing so is on you.
Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmonious charmingly : May I be bold
To think these spirits ?
Pro. Spirits, which by mine art
I have from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies.
Fer. Let me live here ever ;
So rare a wonder'd l father, and a wife,
Make this place paradise.
[JuNo and CERES ivlmper, and send IRIS on
employment.
Pro. Sweet now, silence :
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ;
There's something else to do : hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd.
Iris. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wan-
d'ring brooks,
With your sedg'd crowns, and ever harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land
Answer your summons ; Juno does command :
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love ; be not too late.
Enter certain Nymphs.
You sunburn'd sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ;
Make holy-day : your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited : they join
with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards
the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and
speaks,- after which, to a strange, hollow, and con-
fused noise, they heavily vanish.
Pro. [Aside.'] I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates,
Against my life ; the minute of their plot
Is almost come [To the Spirits.} Well done ;
avoid ; no more.
Fer. This is most strange : your father's in some
That works him strongly.
Mira. Never till this day,
Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.
Pro. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,
As if you were dismay'd : be cheerful, sir :
Our revels now are ended : these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air ;
And, like the baseless fabrick of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind : We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd ;
Bear with my weakness : my old brain is troubled.
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity :
If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell,
And there repose ; a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind.
Fer. Mira. We wish your peace.
[Exeunt.
1 Able to produce such wonders.
Pro. Come with a thought : I thank you :
Ariel, come.
Enter ARIEL.
Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to : What's thy plea-
sure?
Pro. Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.
Ari. Ay, my commander : when I presented
Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it ; but I fear'd,
Lest I might anger thee.
Pro. Say again, where didst thou leave these
varlets ?
Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with
drinking ;
So full of valour, that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending
Towards their project : Then I beat my tabor,
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,
Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses,
As they smelt musick ; so I charm'd their ears,
That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd, through
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and
thorns,
Which enter'd their frail shins ; at last I left them
I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell,
Up to the chins.
Pro. This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still :
The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hither,
For stale 2 to catch these thieves.
Ari. I go, I go. [Exit.
Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture 3 can never stick ; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ;
And as, with age, his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers : I will plague them all,
Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, $c.
Even to roaring : Come, hang them on this line.
PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter
CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet.
Col. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole
may not
Hear a foot fall : we now are near his cell.
Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a
harmless fairy, has done little better than played the
Jack 4 with us.
Trin. Monster, my nose is in great indignation.
Ste. So is mine. Do you hear, monster ? If I
should take a displeasure against you ; look you,
Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster.
Col. Good my lord, give me thy favour still :
Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to
Shall hood-wink this mischance : therefore, speak
softly,
All's hush'd as midnight yet.
Trin. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,
Ste. There's not only disgrace and dishonour in
that, monster, but an infinite loss.
Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : yet
this is your harmless fairy, monster.
Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er
ears for my labour.
Bait
3 Education. 4 Jack with a lantern.
ACT V. SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
17
Cal> Pr'ytJiee, my king, be quiet : Seest thou here,
This is the mouth of the cell : no noise, and enter :
Do that good mischief, which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.
Ste. Give me thy hand : I do begin to have
bloody thoughts.
Trin. O king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy Ste-
phano ! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee !
Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash.
Trin. O, ho, monster ; we know what belongs to
a frippery 5 : O king Stephano !
Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand,
I'll have that gown.
Trin. Thy grace shall have it.
Cal. The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you
mean,
To doat thus on such luggage ? Let's along,
And do the murder first : if he awake,
From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches ;
Make us strange stuff.
Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is
not this my jerkin ? Now is the jerkin under the
line : now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair,
and prove a bald jerkin.
Trin. Do, do : We steal by line and level, a'nt
like your grace.
Ste. I thank thee for that jest ; here's a garment
for't : wit shall not go unrewarded, while I am king
of this country : Steal by line and level, is an ex-
cellent pass of pate ; there's another garment for't.
Trin. Monster, come, put some lime? upon your
lingers, and away with the rest.
Cal. I will have none on't : we shall lose our time,
And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villainous low.
Ste. Monster, lay-to your fingers ; help to bear
this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll
turn you out of my kingdom ; go to, carry this.
Trin. And this.
Ste. Ay, and this.
A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in
shape of hounds, and hunt them about ; PROSPERO
and A KIEL setting tliein on.
Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey !
Ari. Silver ! there it goes, Silver !
Pro. Furi/, Fury! there, Tyrant, there ! liark, hark !
[CAL. STE. and TRIN. are driven out.
Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps ; and more pinch-spotted make
them,
Than pard 8, or cat o' mountain.
Ari. Hark, they roar.
Pro. Let them be hunted soundly : At this hour
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies :
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom : for a little,
Follow, and do me service.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Before the Cell of Prospero.
Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL.
Pro. Now does my project gather to a head :
My charms crack not ; my spirits obey ; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day ?
ArL On the sixth hour ; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.
Pro. I did say so,
When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and his ?
Ari. Confin'd together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge ;
Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners
In the lime -grove which weather-fends 6 your cell;
They cannot budge, till you release. The king,
His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted ;
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brim-full of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly
Him you term'd, sir, The good old lord, Gonzalo ;
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eves of reeds : your charm so strongly works
them,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit?
Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human.
Pro. And mine shall.
Iluvt thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their nfllictions ? and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply
5 A shop for sale of old clothes.
6 Defends from bad weather.
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the
quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury
Do I take part : the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ;
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,
And they shall be themselves.
Ari. I'll fetch them, sir,
[Exit.
Pro. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes,
and groves ;
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him,
When he comes back ; you demy-puppets, that
By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pastime
Is to make midnight-mushrooms ; that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid
(Weak masters though you be) I have be-dimm'd
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck 'd up
The pine, and cedar : graves, at my command,
Have wak'd their sleepers ; oped, and led them forth
By my so potent art : But this rough magick
' Bird-lime.
Leopard.
18
TEMPEST.
ACT V. .
I here abjure : and, when I have requir'd
Some heavenly inusick, (which even now I do,)
To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my stall',
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my book. [Solemn Mustek.
Re-enter ARIEL: after him ALONSO, with a frantic
gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and
ANTONIO in like manner attended by ADRIAN and
FRANCISCO: They all enter the circle which PROS-
PERO had made, and there stand charmed; which
PROSPERO observing, speaks.
A solemn, air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now useless, boil'd within thy skull ! There stand,
For you are spell-stopp'd.
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine,
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace ;
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason. O my good Gonzalo,
My true preserver, and a loyal sir
To him thou follow'st ; I will pay thy graces
Home both in word and deed. - Most cruelly
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter :
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act ;
Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and
blood,
You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
Expell'd remorse 1 and nature ; who, with Sebastian,
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,)
Would here have kill'd your king ; I do forgive thee,
Unnatural though thou art ! Their understanding
Begins to swell ; and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores,
That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them,
That yet looks on me, or would know me : Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell ;
[Exit ARIEL.
I will dis-case me, and my self present,
As I was sometime Milan : quickly, spirit :
Thou shalt ere long be free.
ARIEL re-enters, singing, and helps to attire
PROSPERO.
Ari. Where the bee sucks, there suck I ;
In a coioslip's bell I lie :
There I couch when oids do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,
After summer merrily :
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariel ; I shall miss thee ;
But yet thou shalt have freedom : so, so, so.
To the king's ship, invisible as thou art :
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
Under the hatches ; the master and the boatswain,
Being awake, enforce them to this place ;
And presently, I pr'ythee.
Ari. I drink the air before me, and return
Or e'er your pulse twice beat. [Exit ARIEL.
Gon All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement
Inhabits here : Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country !
1 Pity or tenderness of heart.
Pro. Behold, sir king,
The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero :
For more assurance that a living prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body :
And to thee, and thy company, I bid
A hearty welcome.
Alon. Whe'r * thou beest he, or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse
Beats, as of flesh and blood ; and since I saw thee,
The affliction of my mind amends, with which,
I fear, a madness held me : this must crave
( An if this be at all) a most strange story.
Thy dukedom I resign ; and do entreat
Thou pardon me my wrongs : But how should
Prospero
Be living and be here ?
Pro. First, noble friend,
Let me embrace thine age ; whose honour cannot
Be measur'd, or confin'd.
Gon. Whether this be,
Or be not, I'll not swear.
Pro. You do yet taste
Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you
Believe thingscertain : Welcome, my friends all : .
But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
[Aside to SEB. and ANT.
I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you,
And justify you traitors : at this time
I'll tell no tales.
Seb. The devil speaks in him. [Aside.
Pro. No :
For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require
My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, I know,
Thou must restore.
Alon. If thou beest Prospero,
Give us particulars of thy preservation :
How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
Were wreck'd upon this shore ; where I have lost,
How sharp the point of this remembrance is !
My dear son Ferdinand.
Pro. I am woe 3 for't, sir.
Alon. Irreparable is the loss ; and Patience
Says, it is past her cure.
Pro. I rather think,
You have not sought her help ; of whose soft grace,
For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid,
And rest myself content.
Alon. You the like loss ?
Pro. As great to me, as late ; and, portable
To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker
Than you may call to comfort you : for I
Have lost my daughter.
Alon. A daughter?
O heavens ! that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there ! that they were, I wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed
Where my son lies. When did you lose your
daughter ?
Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords
At this encounter do so much admire,
That they devour their reason ; and scarce think
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words
Are natural breath : but howsoe'er you have
Been justled from your senses, know for certain,
That I am Prospero, and that very duke
* Whether.
Sorry.
SCENE I.
TEMPEST.
19
Which was thrust forth oi* Milan ; who most strangely
Upon this shore, where you were wreck 'd, was landed,
To be the lord on't No more yet of this ;
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day,
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir;
This cell's my court: here have I few attendants,
And subjects none abroad : pray you look in.
My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing ;
At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye
As much as me my dukedom.
The entrance of the cell ojpens y and discovers FERDI-
NAND and MIRANDA playing at chess,
ftfira. Sweet lord, you play me false.
Fer. No, my dearest love,
1 would not for the world.
Mira. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should
wrangle,
And I would call it fair play.
Alon. If this prove
A vision of the island, one dear son
Shall I twice lose.
Seb. A most high miracle !
Fer. Tho' the seas threaten, they are merciful ;
I have curs'd them without cause.
[FERD. kneels to ALON.
Alon. Now all the blessings
Of a glad father compass thee about !
Arise, and say how thou cam'st here.
Mira. O ! wonder !
How many goodly creatures are there here !
How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world,
That has such people in't !
Pro. 'Tis new to thee.
Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou wast
at play ?
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours :
Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us,
And brought us thus together?
Fer. Sir, she's mortal ;
But, by immortal Providence, she's mine ;
I chose her, when I could not ask my father
For his advice ; nor thought I had one : she
Is daughter to this famous duke of Milan,
Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before ; of whom I have
Received a second life, and second father
This lady makes him to me.
Alon. I am hers :
But O, how oddly will it sound, that I
Must ask my child forgiveness !
Pro. There, sir, stop :
Let us not burden our remembrances
With a heaviness that's gone.
Gon. I have inly wept,
Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you
gods,
And on this couple drop a blessed crown ;
For it is you, that have chalk'd forth the way
Which brought us hither !
Alon. I say, Amen, Gonzalo !
Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue
Should become kings of Naples ? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy ; and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars : In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis ;
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife,
Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom,
In a poor isle ; and all of us, ourselves,
When no man was his own.
Alon. Give me your hands :
[To FER. and MIR.
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart,
That doth not wish you joy !
Gon. Be't so ! Amen !
Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain
amazedly following.
O look, sir, look, sir ; here are more of us !
T prophesied, if a gallows were on land,
This fellow could not drown : Now, blasphemy,
That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore ?
Hast thou no mouth by land ? What is the news ?
Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found
Our king, and company : the next our ship,
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split,
Is tight and yare 4 , and bravely rigg'd, as when
We first put out to sea.
Ari. Sir, all this service ~]
Have I done since I went. L Aside.
Pro. My tricksy 5 spirit ! J
Alon. These are not natural events ; they strengthen
From strange to stranger : Say, how came vou
hither?
Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake,
I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep,
And (how, we know not,) all clapp'd under hatches,
Were, but even now, with strange and several noises
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains,
And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,
We were awak'd ; straitway, at liberty :
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld
Our royal, good, and gallant ship ; our master
Cap'ring to eye her : On a trice, so please you,
Even in a dream, were we divided from them,
And were brought moping hither.
Ari. Was't well done ? ~|
Pro. Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt L Asule.
be free. J
Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod :
And there is in this business more than nature
Was ever conduct 6 of: some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.
Pro. Sir, my liege,
Do not infest your mind with beating on
The strangeness of this business ; at pick'd leisure,
Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you
(Which to you shall seem probable) of every
These happen'd accidents : till when, be cheerful,
And think of each thing well. Come hither,
spirit ; [Aside.
Set Caliban and liis companions free :
Untie the spell. \Exit ARIEL.] How fares my
gracious sir?
There are yet missing of your company
Some few odd lads, that you remember not.
Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO,
and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel.
Ste. Every man shift for all the rt-st, and let no
man take care for himself; for all is but fortune :
Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio !
Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my
head, here's a goodly sight.
Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed !
How fine my master is ! I am afraid
Ih will chastise me.
* Ready.
5 Clever, adroit.
C 2
Conductor.
20
TEMPEST.
ACT V.
Scb. Ha, ha ;
What things are these, my lord Antonio?
Will money buy them ?
Ant. Very like, one of them
Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable.
Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,
Then say, if they be true 7 : This mis-shapen knave,
His mother was a witch ; and one so strong
That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,
And deal in her command, without her power :
These three have robb'd me ; and this demi-dt-vil
( For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them
To take my life : two of these fellows you
Must know, and own ; this tiling of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.
Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death.
Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler ?
Srb. He is drunk now : Where had he wine ?
Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : Where should
they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them ?
How cam'st thou in this pickle ?
Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw
you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones :
I shall not fear fly-blowing.
Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ?
Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but
a cramp.
Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah ?
Ste. I should have been a sore one then.
Alon. This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd
on. [Pointing to CALIBAN.
Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manners,
As in his shape : Go, sirrah, to my cell ;
Take with you your companions ; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely.
Oil. Ay, that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter,
And seek for grace : What a thrice-double ass
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,
And worship this dull fool?
Pro. Go to ; away !
Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you
found it.
Seb. Or stole it, rather.
[Exeunt CAL. STE. and TRIN.
Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train,
To my poor cell : where you shall take your rest
For this one night ; which (part of it) I'll waste
With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away : the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by,
Since I came to this isle : And in the morn,
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,
Where I have hope to see the nuptial
Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd ;
And thence retire me to my Milan, where
Every third thought shall be my grave.
Alon. I long
To hear the story of your life, which must
Take the ear strangely.
Pro. I'll deliver all ;
And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch
Your royal fleet far off. My Ariel ; chick,
That is thy charge ; then to the elements
Be free, and fare thou well ! [Aside.] Please you
draw near. [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE. Spoken by PROSPERO.
Now my charms are all overthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own j
Which is most Joint : now, 'tis true,
I must be here conjined by you,
Or sent to Naples : Let me not,
Since 1 have my dukedom got,
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell ;
JBut release me from my bands,
With the help of your good hands. 8
i Honest. 8 Applause j noise was supposed to dissolve a spell.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must Jill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please : Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer ;
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon' d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
DUKE OF MILAN, Father to Silvia.
ANTONIO, Father to Proteus.
THURIO, a foolish Rival to Valentine.
EGLAMOUR, Agent for Silvia in her Escape.
SPEED, a clownish Sen>ant to Valentine.
LAUNCE, Servant to Proteus.
PANTHINO, Servant to Antonio.
Host where Julia lodges in Milan.
Outlaws.
JULIA, a Lady of Verona, beloved by Proteus.
SILVIA, the Duke's Daughter, beloved by Valentine.
LUCETTA, Waiting-woman to Julia.
Servants, Musicians.
sometimes in Verona j sometimes in Milan ; and on the Frontiers of Mantua.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT I.
SCENE I. An open Place in Verona.
VALENTINR and PKOTKI-S.
IV. (.'ease to persuade, my loving Proteus ;
I tome-keeping youth have ever homely wits :
Wer't not afl'eetion chains thy tender days
'I'o the sweet glances of thy honoured love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
T<> see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
Hut, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein,
Even as I would, when 1 to love begin.
]'r<>. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, adieu !
Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,
"When thou dost meet good hap ; and, in thy danger,
It' e\er danger do em iron thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.
IV. And on a love-book pray for my success.
/V,,. I "poii some book I love, I'll pray for thee.
IV. That's on some shallow story of deep love.
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.
I'm. That's a deep story of a deeper love ;
Tor he was more than over shoes in love.
IV. 'Tis true; for you are over hoots in love,
And yet you never swam the Hellespont.
I'm. Over the hoots? nay, give me not the boots. '
t'nl No, I'll not, for it boots thee not.
What?
Vnl. To lie
A humorous punishment at harvest-In'
In love, where scorn is bought with groans ; coy
looks,
With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's mirth,
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights :
If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain ;
If lost, why then a grievous labour won ;
However, but a folly bought with wit,
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
I'to. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool.
Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll prove.
1'ro. 'Tis love you cavil at ; I am not love.
I'al. Love is your master, for he masters you :
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
Pro. Yet writers say, As in the sweetest hud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
Val. And writers say. As the most forward hud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly ; blasting in the bud,
Losing its verdure even in the prime.
And all the fair effects of future hopes.
But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee.
That art a votary to fond desire?
Once more adieu : my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd.
!',<>. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
IV. Sueet Proteus, no ; now let us take our leave.
At Milan let me hear from thee by I
Of thy success in love, and what news t ]s t -
Hetideth here in absence of thy friend;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.
/';-... All happiness In-chance to thee in Milan !
C 3
22
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT 1.
Vol. As much to you at home ! and so farewell !
{Exit VALENTINE.
Pro. He after honour haunts, I after love :
He leaves his friends to dignify them more ;
I leave myself, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, tliou hast metamorphos'd me;
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at nought ;
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought.
Enter SPEED.
Speed. Sir Proteus, save you : saw you my master ?
Pro- But now he parted hence, to embark for
Milan.
Speed. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already ;
And I have play'd the sheep in losing him.
Pro- Indeed a sheep doth very often stray,
An if the shepherd be awhile away.
Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd
then, and I a sheep ?
Pro. I do.
Speed- Why then my horns are his horns, whether
I wake or sleep.
Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep.
Speed. This proves me still a sheep.
Pro. True ; and thy master a shepherd.
Speed- Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance.
Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another.
Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the
sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master, and my
master seeks not me ; therefore, I am no sheep.
Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd,
the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; thou
for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages
follows not thee . therefore, thou art a sheep.
Speed- Such another proof will make me cry baa.
Pro. But dost thou hear ? gav'st thou my letter
to Julia?
Speed. Ay, sir : I, a lost mutton, gave your letter
to her ; and she gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for
my labour.
Pro. Nay, in that you are astray, 'twere best
pound you.
Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me
for carrying your letter.
Pro. You mistake ; I mean the pound, a pinfold.
Speed From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and
over,
'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your
lover.
Pro. But what said she? did she nod?
[SPEED nods
Speed. I.
Pro. Nod, I? why, that's noddy. *
Speed- You mistook, sir ; I say, she did nod : and
you ask me, if she did nod; and I say, I.
Pro. And that set together, is noddy.
Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it to-
gether, take it for your pains.
Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter.
Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to bear
with you.
Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me ?
Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; having
nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains.
Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit.
Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.
Pro- Come, come, open the matter in brief: What
said she ?
2 A game at cards.
Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and the
matter, may be both at once delivered.
Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains : What said
she?
Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her.
Pro. Why ? Could'st thou perceive so much from
her?
Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from
her ; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your
letter : And being so hard to me that brought your
mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling her
mind.
Pro. What, said she nothing ?
Speed. No, not so much as take this for thy
pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you
have testern'd 3 me ; in requital whereof, henceforth
carry your letters yourself : and so, sir, I'll commend
you to my master.
Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from
wreck ;
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destined to a drier death on shore :
I must go send some better messenger ;
I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines,
Receiving them from such a worthless post. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. Garden of Julia's house.
Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.
Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone,
Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in love ?
Luc. Ay, madam ; so you stumble not unheed-
fully.
Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen,
That every day with parle encounter me,
In thy opinion, which is worthiest love?
Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll shew
my mind
According to my shallow simple skill.
Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour ?
Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine ;
But were I you, he never should be mine.
Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio ?
Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, so, so.
Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus?
Luc. Lord, lord ! to see what folly reigns in us !
Jul. How now! what means this passion at his
name ?
Luc- Pardon, dear madam ; 'tis a passing shame,
That I, unworthy body as I am,
Should censure 4 thus on lovely gentlemen.
Jid. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ?
Luc. Then thus, of many good I think him
best.
Jul. Your reason ?
Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason ; 1
think him so, because I think him so.
Jul. And would'st thou have me cast my love on
him ?
Luc. A y, if you thought your love not cast away.
Jul. Why, he of all the rest, hath never mov'd me.
Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think , best loves ye.
J>d. His little speaking shews his love but small.
Luc. Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.
Jul. They do not love, that do not show their love.
Luc. O, they love least, that let men know their
love.
Jul. I would I knew his mind.
Given me a sixpence.
4 Pass sentence
SCENE II.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
23
Lite. Peruse this paper, madam.
Jul. To Julia, Say, from whom ?
Luc. That the contents will shew.
Jul. Say, say ; who gave it thee ?
Luc* Sir Valentine's page ; and sent, I think,
from Proteus :
He would have given it you, but I, being in the way,
Did in your name receive it ; pardon the fault, I pray.
Jul. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker ! 5
Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines?
To whisper and conspire against my youth ?
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth,
And you an officer fit for the place.
There, take the paper, see it be return'd ;
Or else return no more into my sight.
Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate.
Jul. Will you begone ?
Luc. That you may ruminate. [Exit.
Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter.
It were a shame to call her back again,
And pray her to a fault for which I chid her.
"What fool is she, that knows I am a maid,
And would not force the letter to my view?
Since maids, in modesty, say No, to that
Which they would have the profferer construe, Ay.
Fie, fie ! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When villingly I would have had her here !
How mcjrily I taught my brow to frown,
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile !
My penance is, to call Lucetta back,
And ask remission for my folly past :
What ho! Lucetta!
He-enter LUCETTA.
Luc. What would your ladyship ?
Jul. Is it near dinner time ?
Luc. I would it were ;
That you might kill your stomach 6 on your meat,
And not upon your maid.
Jul. What is't you took up
So gingerly 't
Luc. Nothing.
Jul. Why didst thou stoop then ?
Luc. To take a paper up that I let fall.
Jul. And is that paper nothing ?
Luc. Nothing concerning me.
Jul. Then let it lie for those that it concerns.
Luc. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns,
Unless it have a false interpreter.
Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme.
Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune :
Give me a note : your ladyship can set.
Jul. As little by such toys as may be possible :
Best sing it to the tune of Light o love.
Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune.
Jul. Heavy? belike it hath some burden, then.
Luc- Ay ; and melodious were it, would you sing
it.
Jul. And why not you ?
Luc. I cannot reach so high.
Jul. Let's see your song: How now, minion?
Luc* Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out :
And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune.
Jul. You do not ?
Luc. No, madam; it is too sharp.
Matchmaker.
'Passion or obstinacy.
Jul. You, minion, are too saucy.
Luc. Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a dcscan 7
There wanteth but a mean 8 to fill your song.
Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.
Luc. Indeed I did the base 9 for Proteus.
Jul. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil ' witli protestation !
[ Tears the letter,
Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie :
You would be fingering them, to anger me.
Luc. She makes it strange; but she would be
best pleas'd
To be so anger'd with another letter. [Krit.
Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd with tin- siune !
hateful hands, to tear such loving words !
Injurious wasps ! to feed on such sweet honey,
And kill the bees, that yield it, with your stings !
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
And here is writ kind Julia ; unkind Julia !
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
1 throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
Look, here is writ love-wounded Proteus :
Poor wounded name ! my bosom as a bed,
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be throughly heal'd :
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice, or thrice, was Proteus written down ?
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away,
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name ; that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock,.
And throw it thence into the raging sea !
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
Poor firlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia, ; that I'll tear away ;
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names :
Thus will I fold them one upon another ;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
He-enter LDCETTA.
Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your fathei
stays.
Jul. Well, let us go,
Luc- What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales
here?
Jul. If you respect them, best to take them up.
Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down :
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold.
Jul. I see you have a month's mind to them.
Luc- Ay, madam, you may say what sights \ou
see ;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Jul. Come, come, will't please you go? [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The same. A Room in Antonio's
House.
Enter ANTONIO and PA NTH i NO.
Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad - talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister?
Pant. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
Ant. Why, what of him ?
Pant. He wondcr'd that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ;
While other men, of slender reputation, 3
A term in musick.
A challenge.
Serious.
C 4
fl The tenor in musirk.
; liu-tlc, stir.
^ Little consequence.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT II.
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out :
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there ;
Some, to discover islands far away ;
Some, to the studious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet ;
And did request me, to importune you,
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment 4 to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.
Ant. Nor need'st thou much imp6rtune me to that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have consider'd well his loss of time j
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world :
Experience is by industry atchiev'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time :
Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him ?
Pant. I think, your lordship is not ignorant,
How his companion, youthful Valentine,
Attends the emperor in his royal court.
Ant. I know it well.
Pant. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent
him thither :
There shall he practise tilts and tournaments,
Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen ;
And be in eye of every exercise
Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.
Ant. I like thy counsel ; well hast thou advis'd :
And that thou may'st perceive how well I like it,
The execution of it shall make known ;
Even with the speediest execution
I will dispatch him to the emperor's court.
Pant. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Al-
phonso,
With other gentlemen of good esteem,
Are journeying to salute the emperor,
And to commend their service to his will.
Ant. Good company; with them shall Proteus go;
And, in good time, now will we break with him. 6
Enter PROTEUS.
Pro. Sweet love ! sweet lines ! sweet life !
Here is her hand the agent of her heart ;
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn :
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves,
To seal our happiness with their consents !
O heavenly Julia !
Ant. How now? what letter are you reading
there?
Pro. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or
two
Of commendation sent from Valentine,
Deliver'd by a friend that came from him.
Ant. Lend me the letter ; let me see what news.
Pro. There is no news, my lord ; but that he writes
How happily he lives, how well belov'd,
And daily graced by the emperor ;
Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune.
Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish ?
Pro. As one relying on your lordship's will,
And not depending on his friendly wish.
Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish :
Muse 6 not that I thus suddenly proce'ed ;
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
I am resolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time
With Valentinus in the emperor's court ;
What maintenance he from his friends receives,
Like exhibition 7 thou shalt have from me.
To-morrow be in readiness to go :
Excuse it not, for I am peremptory.
Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided;
Please you, deliberate a day or two.
Ant. Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after
thee :
No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go.
Come on, Panthino ; you shall be employ'd
To hasten on his expedition.
[Exeunt ANT. and PANT.
Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire, for fear of
burning ;
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd :
I fear'd to shew my father Julia's letter,
Lest he should take exceptions to my love ;
A nd with the vantage of mine own excuse
Hath he excepted most against my love.
O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day ;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away !
Re-enter PANTHINO.
Pant. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ;
He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go.
Pro. Why, this it is : my heart accords thereto ;
And yet a thousand times it answers, no. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's
Palace.
Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.
Speed. Sir, your glove.
Vol. Not mine : my gloves are on.
Speed. Why then this may be yours, for this is
but one.
Val. Ha ! let me see : ay, give it me, it's mine :
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine !
Ah Silvia ! Silvia !
Speed. Madam Silvia! madam Silvia!
Val. How now, sirrah ?
Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Reproach.
5 Break Ihc matter to him.
Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her ?
Speed. Your worship, sir ; or else I mistook.
Val. Well, you'll still be too forward.
Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too
slow.
Val. Go to, sir ; tell me, do you know madam
Silvia?
Speed. She that your worship loves ?
Vol. Why, how know you that I am in love ?
Speed. Marry, by these special marks : First, you
have learned, like sir Proteus ; to wreath your arms
like a male-content ; to relish a love-song, like a
robin-red-breast ; to walk alone, like one that had
the pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that had
Wonder.
Allowance.
SCENE I.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
lost his A, B, C ; to weep, like a girl that had
l.uried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes
(lift 8 ; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak
puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. 9 You were
wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock ; when
you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when
you fasted, it was presently after dinner ; when you
looked sadly, it was for want of money : and now
you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when
I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.
Vol. Are all these things perceived in me ?
Speed. They are all perceived without you.
Val. Without me ? They cannot.
Speed. Without you ? nay, that's certain, for
without you were so simple, none else would : but
you are so without these follies, that these follies are
within you.
J r al. But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia ?
Speed. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at
supper ?
Vnl. Hast thou observed that ? even she I mean.
Speed. Why, sir, I know her not.
Val. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her,
and yet know'st her not ?
Speed. Is she not hard favoured, sir ?
J'ttf. Not so fair, boy, as well favoured.
Speed. Sir, I know that well enough.
Val. What dost thou know ?
Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of you) well
favoured.
Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, but her
favour infinite.
Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the
other out of all count.
Val. How painted ? and how out of count ?
Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair,
that no man counts of her beauty.
Vol. How esteemest thou me ? I account of her
beauty.
Speed. You never saw her since she was deformed.
Vol. How long hath she been deformed ?
Speed. Ever since you loved her.
Vol. 1 have loved her ever since I saw her ; and
still I see her beautiful.
Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her.
Val. Why?
Speed. Because love is blind. O, that you had
mine eyes ; or your own had the lights they were
wont to have, when you chid at sir Proteus for going
ungartered.
Val. What should I see then ?
Speed. Your own present folly, and her passing
deformity : for he, being in love, could not see to
garter his hose ; and you, being in love, cannot see
to put on your hose.
Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love ; for last
morning you could not see to wipe my shoes.
Speed. True, sir ; I was in love with my bed : I
thank you, you swinged ' me for my love, which
makes me the bolder to chide you for yours.
Val. Last night she enjoined me to write some
lines to one she loves.
Speed. And have you ?
Val. I have.
Sjieed. Are they not lamely writ ?
Vol. No, boy, but as well as I can do them :
Peace, here she comes.
Under a regimen.
Whipped.
9 Allhallowmas.
Enter SILVIA.
Speed. O excellent motion ! - O exceeding puppet !
now will he interpret to her.
Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good-mor-
rows.
Speed. O, give you good even ! here's a million
of manners. [Aside.
Sti. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand.
Speed. He should give her interest ; and she gives
it him.
Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter,
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ;
Which I was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you, gentle servant ; 'tis very clerkly 3
done.
Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off;
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully.
Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much
pains ?
Vol. No, madam ; so it stead you, I will write,
Please you command, a thousand times as much :
And yet,
Sil. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the sequel ;
And yet I will not name it : and yet I care not ;
And yet take this again ; and yet I thank you ;
Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more.
Speed. And yet you will ; and yet another yet.
[Atide.
Vol. What means your ladyship ? do you not
like it?
Sil. Yes, yes ; the lines are very quaintly writ
But since unwillingly, take them again ;
Nay, take them.
Vol. Madam, they are for you.
Sil. Ay, ay ; you writ them, sir, at my request :
But I will none of them ; they are for you :
I would have had them writ more movingly.
Val. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another.
Sil. And, when it's writ, for my sake read it over :
And, if it please you, so ; if not, why, so.
Val. If it please me, madam ! what then ?
Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour ;
And so good-morrow, servant. [Exit SILVIA.
Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a
steeple !
My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor,
He being her pupil, to become her tutor.
O excellent device ! was there ever heard a better ?
That my master, being scribe, to himself should
write the letter ?
Val. How now, sir? what are you reasoning with
yourself?
Speed. Nay, I was rhyming ; 'tis you that have
the reason.
Val. To do what ?
Speed. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia.
Val. To whom ?
Speed. To yourself: why, she wooes you by a
figure?
Vol. What figure ?
Speed. By a letter, I should say.
Val. Why, she hath not writ to me.
Sjteed. What need she, when she hath made you
\N rite to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest ?
A puppet-ihow.
3 Like a scholar.
26
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT II.
Vol. No, believe me.
Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir : But did
you perceive her earnest ?
Vol. She gave me none, except an angry word.
Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter.
Val. That's the letter I writ to her friend.
Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, and
there an end.
Val. I would, it were no worse.
Speed. I'll warrant you, 'tis as well.
For often you have writ to her ; and she, in modesty,
Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply ;
Or fearing else some messenger, that might her mind
discover,
Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her
lover.
All this I speak in print ; for in print I found it.
Why muse you, sir ? 'tis dinner-time.
Val. I have dined.
Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir : though the came-
leon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am
nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat :
O, be not like your mistress ; be moved, be moved.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Verona. A Room in Julia's House.
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.
Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia.
Jul. I must, where is no remedy.
Pro. When possibly I can, I will return.
Jul. If you turn not, you will return the sooner :
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
[Giving a ring.
Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here take
you this.
Jul. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.
Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy ;
And when that hour o'erslips me in the day,
Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness !
My father stays my coming ; answer not ;
The tide is now : nay, not the tide of tears ;
That tide will stay me longer than I should :
[Exit JULIA.
Julia, farewell. What ! gone without a word ?
Ay, so true love should do ; it cannot speak ;
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to grace it,
Enter PANTHINO.
Pant. Sir Proteus, you are staid for.
Pro. Go ; I come, I come ;
Alas ! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The same. A Street.
Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog.
Laun. Nay, it will be this hour ere I have done
weeping ; all the kind^ of the Launces have this
very fault : I have received my proportion, like the
prodigious son, and am going with sir Proteus to
the Imperial's court. I think, Crab my dog be the
sourest-natured dog that lives : my mother weeping,
my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howl-
ing, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house
in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted
4 Kindred.
cur shed one tear : he is a stone, a very pebble-
stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog : a
Jew would have wept to have seen our parting ;
why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept
herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you
the manner of it : This shoe is my father ; no
this left shoe is my father ; no, no, this left shoe
is my mother ; nay, that cannot be so neither ;
yes, it is so, it is so ; it hath the worser sole ; This
shoe is my mother, and this my father; A ven-
geance on't ! there 'tis : now, sir, this staff is my
sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily,
and as small as a wand : this hat is Nan, our
maid ; I am the dog : no, the dog is himself,
and I am the dog ; O, the dog is me, and I am
myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father ;
Father, your blessing ; now should not the shoe speak
a word for weeping ; now should I kiss my father ;
well, he weeps on : now come I to my mother, ( O,
that she could speak now !) like a wood 5 woman ;
well, I kiss her ; why there 'tis ; here's my
mother's breath up and down ; now come I to my
sister ; mark the moan she makes ; now the dog all
this while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ; but
see how I lay the dust with my tears.
Enter PANTHINO.
Pant. Launce, away, away, aboard ; thy master
is shipped, and thou art to post after with oars.
What's the matter ? why weepest thou, man ? Away,
ass ; you will lose the tide, if you tarry any longer.
Laun. It is no matter if the ty'd were lost : for
it is the unkindest ty'd that ever man ty'd.
Pant. What's the unkindest tide ?
Laun. Why, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog.
Pant. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood ;
and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage ; and, in
losing thy voyage, lose thy master ; and, in losing
thy master, lose thy service ; and, in losing thy
service,
Laun. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the
master, and the service ? The tide ! Why, man, if
the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my
tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the
boat with my sighs.
Pant. Come, come away, man; I was sent to
call thee.
Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest.
Pant. Wilt thou go ?
Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV Milan. An Apartment in the Duke's
Palace.
Enter VALENTINE, SILVIA, THURIO, and SPEED.
Stt. Servant
Val. Mistress?
Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you.
Val. Ay, boy, it's for love.
Speed. Not of you.
Vol. Of my mistress then.
Speed. 'Twere good, you knock'd him.
Sil. Servant, you are sad. 6
Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so.
Thu. Seem you that you are not ?
Val. Haply, I do.
Thu. So do counterfeits.
Val. So do you.
5 Crazy, distracted.
Serious.
SCENE IV.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
Tk u. What seem I t!iat I am not?
I'ul. Wise.
Tit u. What instance of the contrary?
Vol. Your folly.
T/iu. And how quote 7 you my folly ?
Vol. I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.
Val. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Tku. How?
Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change
colour?
Val. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind of
camt'leon.
Tint. That hath more mind to feed on your
blood, than live in your air.
Vol. You have said, sir.
Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.
Vol. I know it well, sir ; you always end ere
you begin.
Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and
quickly shot off.
Val. 'Tis indeed, madam ; we thank the giver.
Sil. Who is that, servant ?
Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the fire .
sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's
looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your
company.
Tku. Sir, if you spend word for word with me,
I shall make your wit bankrupt.
Val. I know it well, sir ; you have an exchequer
of words, and I think no other treasure to give your
followers : for it appears by their bare liveries, that
they live by your bare words.
Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more ; here comes
my father.
Enter DUKE.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset.
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health :
What say you to a letter from your friends
Of much good news ?
Val. My lord, I will be thankful
To any happy messenger from thence.
Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman ?
Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman
To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.
Duke. Hath he not a son ?
Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves
The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well ?
Val. I knew him as myself ; for from our infancy
We have conversed and spent our hours together ;
And though myself have been an idle truant,
Omitting the sweet benefit of time,
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection ;
Yet hath sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days ;
His years but young, but his experience old ;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe ;
And, in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow,)
1 1 1- is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.
Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good,
IK is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to In- ;m emperor's counsellor.
Wi-H. sir ; this ^entleinan i s come to me,
n ith commendation from great potentates ;
to, observe.
And here he means to spend his time a-while :
I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.
Vol. Should I have wish'd a tiling, it had been he.
Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth :
Silvia, I speak to you ; and you, sir Thurio :
For Valentine, I need not 'cite 8 him to it :
I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit DUKE.
Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship,
Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Vol. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners
still.
Sil. Nay, then he should be blind ; and being
blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you ?
Veil. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.
Thu. They say that love hath not an eye at all.
Vol. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself;
Upon a homely object love can wink.
Enter PROTEUS.
Sil. Have done, have done ; here comes the gen-
tleman.
Val. Welcome, dear Proteus ! Mistress, I be-
seech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SU. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from.
Val. Mistress, it is : sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship.
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
Val. Leave off discourse of disability :
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
Pro. My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed ;
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself.
Sil. That you are welcome ?
Pro. No ; that you are worthless.
Enter Servant.
Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak
with you.
Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Servant.
Come, sir Thurio,
Go with me : Once more, new servant, welcome :
I'll leave you to confer of home-affairs ;
When you have done, we look to hear from you.
Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship.
[Ereunt SILVIA, THUBIO, and SPEED.
Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you
came ?
Pro. Your friends are well, and have them much
commended.
Val. And how do yours ?
Pro. I left them all in health.
Val. How does your lady ? and how thrives your
love?
Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary you ;
I know you joy not in a love-discourse.
Val. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now,
I have done penance for contemning love ;
Whose high iirt|M>rious thoughts have pmiisird me
With bitter fa>ts, \\ith penitential groans,
8 Incite.
28
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT II.
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
Andmade them watchersof mine own heart's sorrow.
O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord ;
And hath so humbled me, as I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth !
Now, no discourse, except it be of love ;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.
Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye :
Was this the idol that you worship so ?
Vol. Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint ?
Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon.
Vol. Call her divine.
Pro. I will not flatter her.
Vol. O, flatter me ; for love delights in praises.
Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills ;
And I must minister the like to you.
Vol. Then speak the truth by her j if not divine,
Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
Pro. Except my mistress.
Val. Sweet, except not any ;
Except thou wilt except against my love.
Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own ?
Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too :
She shall be dignified with this high honour,
To bear my lady's train ; lest the base earth
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss,
And, of so great a favour growing proud,
Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower,
And make rough winter everlastingly.
Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this ?
Val. Pardon me, Proteus ; all I can, is nothing ;
To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing ;
She is alone.
Pro. Then let her alone.
Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is mine
own ;
And I as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,
The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Forgive me, that I do not dream on thee,
Because thou seest me dote upon my love.
My foolish rival, that her father likes,
Only for his possessions are so huge,
Is gone with her along ; and I must after,
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
Pro. But she loves you ?
Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd ;
Nay, more, our marriage hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determin'd of : how I must climb her window ;
The ladder made of cords ; and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on, /or my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber,
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.
Pro. Go on before ; I shall enquire you forth :
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use ;
And then I'll presently attend you.
Val. Will you make haste ?
Pro. I will. [Exit VAL.
Even as one heat another heat expels,
Or as one nail by strength drives out another,
So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise,
Her true perfection, or my false transgression,
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ?
She's fair ; and so is Julia, that I love :
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd ;
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
Methinks, my zeal to Valentine is cold ;
And that I love him not, as I was wont :
O ! but I love his lady too, too much ;
And that's the reason I love him so little.
How shall I dote on her with more advice 9 ,
That thus without advice begin to love her ?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason's light ;
But when I look on her perfections,
There is no reason but I shall be blind.
If I can check my erring love, I will ;
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. [Ej.it.
SCENE V. The same. A Street.
Enter SPEED and LAUNCE.
Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome to
Milan.
Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; for I
am not welcome. I reckon this always that a
man is never undone, till he be hanged ; nor never
welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid,
and the hostess say welcome.
Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the ale-
house with you presently ; where, for one shot of
five-pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes.
But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam
Julia?
Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they
parted very fairly in jest.
Speed. But shall she marry him ?
Laun. No.
Speed. How then? shall he marry her?
Laun. No, neither.
Speed. What, are they broken?
Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish.
Speed. What an ass art thou ! I understand thee not.
Laun. What a block art thou, that thou canst
not ! My staff understands me.
Speed. What thou say'st?
Laun. Ay, and what I do too : look thee, I'll
but lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.
Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one.
Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match ?
Laun. Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will ; if
he say, no, it will ; if he shake his tail, and say
nothing, it will.
Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will.
Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from
me, but by a parable.
Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce,
how say'st thou, that my master has become a nota-
ble lover?
Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Speed. Than how ?
Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him
to be.
Speed. Why, thou ass, thou mistakest me.
Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee ; I meant
thy master.
Speed. I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover.
9 On further knowledge.
SCENE VII.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
I. (inn. Why, I tell thec, I care not though he
luirii himself in love. If thou wilt go with me to
the alehouse, so ; wilt thou go ?
Speed. At thy service. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. The same. An Apartment in the
Palace.
Enter PROTEUS.
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ;
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ;
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ;
And even that power, which gave me first my oath,
Provokes me to this threefold perjury.
Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear :
() sweet-suggesting 1 love, if thou hast sinn'd,
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unbeedful vows may heedfully be broken ;
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd
With twenty thousand soul -confirming oaths.
I cannot leave to love, and yet I do ;
But there I leave to love, where I should love.
Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose :
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
If I lose them, thus find I by their loss,
For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia.
I to myself am dearer than a friend ;
For love is still more precious in itself:
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair !
Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.
I will forget that Julia is alive,
Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead ;
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy,
Aiming at Sylvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself,
Without some treachery used to Valentine :
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window ;
Myself in counsel, his competitor 2 :
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended 3 flight ;
Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine ;
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter :
But Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross,
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding.
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift,
As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift ! [Exit.
SCENE VII. Verona. A Room in Julia's House.
Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.
Jnl. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me !
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee,
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Arc visibly character'd and engraved,
To lesson me ; and tell me some good mean,
I low, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.
. Alas ! the way is wearisome and long.
Jnl. A true devoted pilgrim is not weary
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps :
Much less shall she, that hath love's wings to fly :
And when the flight is made to one so dear,
Of such divine perfection, as sir Proteus.
Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return.
Tempting
* Confederate.
3 Intended.
Jut. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's
food?
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire ;
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
Jul. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns ;
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ;
Hut, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course :
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love ;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil 4 ,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
Luc. But in what habit will you go along ?
Jul. Not like a woman ; for I would prevent
The loose encounters of lascivious men :
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds
As may beseem some well-reputed page.
Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut your hair.
Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings,
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots :
To be fantastic may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me,
For undertaking so unstaid a journey ?
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not.
Jul. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
If Proteus like your journey, when you come,
No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone :
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear :
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears,
And instances as infinite of love,
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus.
Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
Ju!. Base men that use them to so base effect !
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ;
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart ;
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come-
to him !
Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong,
To bear a hard opinion of his truth :
Only deserve my love, by loving him ;
And presently go with me to my chamber,
To take a note of what I stand in need of,
To furnish me upon my longing 5 journey.
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose,
My goods, my lands, my reputation ;
Only in lieu thereof, despatch me hence :
Come, answer not, but to it presently ;
I am impatient of my tarriance. [Exeunt.
Trouble.
Longed for.
30
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT III.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Milan. An Ante-room in the Duke's
Palace.
Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS.
Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray awhile ;
We have some secrets to confer about
[Exit THURIO.
Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me ?
Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would dis-
cover,
The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when T call to mind your gracious favours
Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Know, worthy prince, sir Valentine, my friend,
This night intends to steal away your daughter ;
Myself am one made privy to the plot.
I know, you have determin'd to bestow her
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ;
And should she thus be stolen away from you,
It would be much vexation to your age.
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose
To cross my friend in his intended drift,
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head
A pack of SOITOWS, which would press you down,
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave.
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care ;
Which to requite, command me while I live.
This love of theirs myself have often seen,
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep ;
And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court :
But, fearing lest my jealous aim 6 might err,
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks ; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this,
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested 7 ,
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept ;
And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean
How he her chamber window will ascend,
And with a corded ladder fetch her down ;
For which the youthful lover now is gone,
And this way comes he with it presently ;
Where, if it please you, you may intercept him.
But, good my lord, do it so cunningly,
That my discovery be not aim'd 8 at ;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend,
Hath made me publisher of this pretence. 9
Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know
That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord ; sir Valentine is coming.
[Exit.
Enter VALENTINE.
Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ?
Vol. Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends,
And I am going to deliver them.
6 Guess.
* Guessed.
7 Tempted.
9 Design.
Duke. Be they of much import ?
Val. The tenor of them dotli but signify
My health, and happy being at your court.
Duke. Nay, then no matter ; stay with me a while ;
I am to break with thee of some af lairs,
That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret.
'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought
To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter.
Vul. I know it well, my lord ; and, sure, the match
Were rich and honourable ; besides, the gentleman
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter :
Cannot your grace win her to fancy him ?
Duke. No, trust me j she is peevish, sullen, fro-
ward,
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ;
Neither regarding that she is my child,
Nor fearing me as if I were her father :
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her ;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife,
And turn her out to who will take her in :
Then let her beauty be her wedding dower ;
For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your grace have me to do in this?
Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here,
Whom I affect j but she is nice and coy,
And nought esteems my aged eloquence :
Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor,
( For long agone I have forgot to court :
Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;)
How, and which way, I may bestow myself,
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her.
Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con-
tents her :
Send her another ; never give her o'er ;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you :
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone ;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ;
For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away :
Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces :
Though ne'er so black, say, they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends
Unto a youthful gentleman of worth ;
And kept severely from resort of men,
That no man hath access by day to her.
Val. Why then I would resort to her by night.
Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys kept
safe,
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window ?
Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground j
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.
SCENE I.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
31
Vol. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords,
To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks,
Would serve to scale another Hero's tower,
So bold Leander would adventure it.
Duke. Now, as tliou art a gentleman of blood,
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tellme that.
Duke, Tliis very night ; for love is like a child,
That longs for every tiling that he can come by.
Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder.
Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone ;
How shall I best convey the ladder thither ?
Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it
Under a cloak, that is of any length.
Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the
turn?
Val. Ay, my good lord.
Duke. Then let me see thy cloak ;
I'll get me one of such another length.
Vol. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.
Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak?
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me.
What letter is this same ? What's here ? To Silvia.
And here an engine fit for my proceeding !
I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads.
Afy thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly;
And slaves they are to me, that send themjlying:
0, could their master come and go as lightly,
Himself would lodge, where senseless they are lying.
Jl/// herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them ;
White I, their king, that thither them importune,
Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blcss'd
them,
Because myself do want my sei-vant's fortune :
J curse myself, for they are sent by me,
That they should harbour where their lord should be.
What's here ?
Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee :
'Tis so ; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Why, Phaeton (for thou art Merops' son),
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car,
And with thy daring folly burn the world ?
Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee ?
Go, base intruder ! over-weening slave !
IV-stow thy fawning smiles on equal mates ;
And think, my patience, more than thy desert,
Is privilege for thy departure hence:
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours,
Wlndi, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee.
But if thou linger in my territories,
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven, my wratli shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.
Begone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.
[JSrit DDKE.
Val. And why not death, rather than live in tor-
ment?
To die, is to be banishM from myself;
And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment !
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen ?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
it be to think that she is by,
And teed upon the shadow of perfection.
Kxivpt I be by Silvia in the night,
Tlu-re is no imisu-k in the nightingale
I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my essence ; and I leave- to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom :
Tarry I here, I but attend on death ;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.
Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.
Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laun. So-ho ! so-ho !
Pro. What seest thou ?
Laun. Him we go to find : there's not a hair
on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.
Pro. Valentine?
Val. No.
Pro. Who then ? his spirit ?
Val. Neither.
Pro. What then?
Val. Nothing.
Laun. Can nothing speak ? master, shall I strike?
Pro. Whom would'st thou strike ?
Laun. Nothing.
Pro. Villain, forbear.
Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing : I pray you,
Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear : Friend Valentine, a
word.
Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good
news,
So much of bad already hath possess'd them.
Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.
Val. Is Silvia dead ?
Pro. No, Valentine.
Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia ! .
Hath she forsworn me?
Pro. No, Valentine.
Vol. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me !
What is your news ?
Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are
vanish'd.
Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news ;
From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend.
Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
And now excess of it will make me surfeit.
Doth Silvia know that I am banished ?
Pro. Ay, ay ; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force,)
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears :
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd ;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe :
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire ;
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die.
Besides, her intercession chaf d him so,
When she for thy repeal was suppliant,
That to close prison he commanded her,
With many bitter threats of "biding there.
Val. No more ; unless the next word that thou
speak 'st,
Have some malignant power upon my life :
If so, I pray tbee, breathe it in mine ear,
As ending anthem of my endless dolour.
Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help,
And study help for that which thou lament'st.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love ;
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. ACT III. SCENE II.
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's stall'; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence ;
Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd
Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love.
The time now serves not to expostulate :
Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate ;
And, ere I part with thee, confer at large
Of all that may concern thy love affairs :
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself,
Regard thy danger, and along with me.
Vol. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy,
Bid him make haste, and meet me at the north gate.
Pro. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine.
Vol. O my dear Silvia ! hapless Valentine !
[Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS.
Laun. I am but a fool, look you ; and yet I have
the wit to think my master is a kind of a knave :
but that's all one, if he but one knave. He lives
not now, that knows me to be in love : yet I am in
love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from
me ; nor who 'tis I love, and yet 'tis a woman : but
what woman, I will not tell myself.
Enter SPEED.
Speed. How now, signior Launce ? what news
with your mastership ?
Laun. With my master's ship ? why, it is at sea.
Speed- Well, your old vice still ; mistake the
word : What news then in your paper ?
Laun. The blackest news, that ever thou heard'st.
Speed. Why, man, how black ?
Laun* Why, as black as ink.
Speed. Let me read them.
Laun. Fie on thee, jolt-head ; thou canst not read.
Speed. Thou liest, I can.
Laun. I will try thee.
Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy paper.
Laun. There ; and saint Nicholas 9 be thy speed !
Speed. Imprimis, She can milk.
Laun. Ay, that she can.
Speed. Item, She brews good ale.
Laun. And thereof comes the proverb. Bless-
ing of your heart, you brew good ale.
Speed. Item, She can sew.
Laun. That's as much as to say, Can she so ?
Speed. Here follow her vices.
Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues.
Speed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep.
Laun. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in
her talk.
Speed. Item, She is slow in words.
Laun. O villain, that set this down among her
vices ! To be slow in words, is a woman's only
virtue : I pray thee, out with't ; and place it for her
chief virtue.
Speed. Item, She is proud.
Laun. Out with that too ; it was Eve's legacy,
and cannot be ta'en from her.
Speed. Item, She hath no teeth.
Laun. I care not for that neither, because I love
crusts.
Speed. Item, She is curst. *
Laun. Well ; the best is, she hath no teeth to bite.
Speed. Item, She iiill often praise her liquor.
Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall : if she will
not, I will ; for good things should be praised.
9 St. Nicholas presided over young scholars.
1 Froward.
$2>eed. Item, She is too liberal.*
Laun. Of her tongue she cannot ; for that's writ
down she is slow of : of her purse she shall not ; for
that I'll keep shut. What's next ?
Speed. She has more faults than hairs,
Laun. That's monstrous : O, that that were out !
Speed. And more wealth than faults.
Laun. Why, that word makes the faults gra-
cious : Well, I'll have her : and if it be a match,
as nothing is impossible,
Speed. What then?
Laun. Why, then I will tell thee, that thy
master stays for thee at the north gate.
Speed. For me ?
Laun. For thee ? ay ; who art thou ? he hath staid
for a better man than thee.
Speed. And must I go to him ?
Laun. Thou must run to him, for thou hast staid
.so long, that going will scarce serve the turn.
Speed. Why didst not tell me sooner ? plague of
your love-letters ! [Exit.
Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading my
letter : An unmannerly slave, that will thrust him-
self into secrets ! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's
correction. [Exit.
SCENE II The same. A Room in the Duke's
Palace.
Enter DUKE and THURIO ; PROTEUS behind.
Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not, but that she will love
you,
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.
Thu. Since his exile she hath despised me most,
Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me,
That I am desperate of obtaining her.
Duke. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched 3 in ice ; which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts,
And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
How now, sir Proteus ? Is your countryman,
According to our proclamation, gone ?
Pro. Gone, my good lord.
Duke. My daughter takes his going grievously.
Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.
Duke. So I believe ; but Thurio thinks not so.
Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee
( For thou hast shewn some sign of good desert)
Makes me the better to confer with thee.
Pro. Longer than I. prove loyal to your grace,
Let me not live to look upon your grace.
Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect
The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter.
Pro. I do, my lord.
Duke. And also, I tliink, thou art not ignorant
How she opposes her against my will.
Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here.
Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
What might we do to make the girl forget
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio ?
Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke in hate.
Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it :
Therefore it must, with circumstance, be spoken
By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend.
Duke. Then you must undertake to slander him.
Licentious in language.
3 Cut.
ACT IV. SCENE I. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
33
Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do :
"Tis an ill office for a gentleman ;
Especially, against his very friend.
Duke. Whereyour good word cannot advantage him,
Your slander never can endamage him j
Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.
Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord : if I can do it,
By aught that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
But say, this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love sir Thurio.
Tliu. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
Lest it should ravel, and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me :
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.
Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind ;
Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already love's firm votary,
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access,
Where you with Silvia may confer at large ;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you ;
Where you may temper her, by your persuasion,
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend.
Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect :
But you, sir Thurio, are not sharp enough ;
You must lay lime 4 , to tangle her desires,
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows.
Duke. Ay, much the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart :
Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears
Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity :
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews ;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
After your dire lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
With some sweet concert : to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump 6 ; the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
Duke* This discipline shows thou hast been in love.
Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently
To sort 7 some gentlemen well skill'd in musick :
I have a sonnet, that will serve the turn,
To give the onset to thy good advice.
Duke. About it, gentlemen.
Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after supper :
And afterward determine our proceedings.
Duke. Even now about it : I will pardon you.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I A Forest near Mantua.
Enter certain Out-laws.
1 Out. Fellows, stand fast ; I see a passenger.
2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down
with 'em.
Enter VALENTINE and SPEED.
3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have
about you ;
If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
Speed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much.
J 'a/. My friends
1 Out. That's not so, sir ; we are your enemies.
2 Out. Peace ; we'll hear him.
3 Out. Ay, by my beard, will we ;
For he's a proper 5 man.
Vol. Then know, that I have little wealth to lose ;
A man I am, cross'd with adversity :
My riches are these poor habiliments,
Of which if you should here disfurnish me,
You take the sum and substance that I have.
2 Out. Whither travel you ?
Vol. To Verona.
1 Out. Whence came you ?
Vol. From Milan.
3 Out. Have you long sojourn'd there ?
Ta/. Some sixteen months; and longer might
have staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.
1 tt t ,t. What, were you banish'd thence ?
Vol. I was.
Birdlime.
Wen looking.
2 Out. For what offence ?
Vol. For that which now torments me to rehearse :
I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent ;
But yet I slew him manfully in fight,
Without false vantage, or base treachery.
1 Out. Why ne'er repent it, if it were done so
But were you banish'd for so small a fault ?
Vol. I was, and held me glad of such a doom,
1 Out. Have you the tongues ? 8
Vol. My youthful travel therein made me happy ;
Or else I often had been miserable.
3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar,
This fellow were a king for our wild faction.
1 Out. We'll have him : sirs, a word.
Speed. Master, be one of them ;
It is an honourable kind of thievery.
Vol. Peace, villain !
2 Out. Tell us this : Have you any thing to take
to?
Val. Nothing, but my fortune.
3 Out. Know then, that some of us are gentlemen,
Such as the fury of ungoverned youth
Thrust from the company of awful 9 men.
1 Out. But to the purpose, you are beautified
With goodly shape ; and by your own report
A linguist ; and a man of such perfection,
As we do in our quality much want ;
2 Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man,
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you :
Are you content to be our general ?
To make a virtue of necessity,
And live, as we do, in this wilderness?
8 MournAil elegy. 1 Choose out
* Languages. '
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT IV.
3 Out. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our
consort ?
Say, ay, and be the captain of us all :
We'll do tliee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thce as our commander, and our king.
1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.
2 Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have
offer'd.
Vol. I take your offer, and will live with you ;
Provided that you do no outrages
On silly women, or poor passengers.
3 Out- No, we detest such vile base practices.
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews,
And shew thee all the treasure we have got ;
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose.
\_Eieunt.
SCENE II. Milan. Court of the Palace.
Enter PROTEUS.
Pro. Already have I been false to Valentine,
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.
Under the colour of commending him,
I have access my own love to prefer:
But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy,
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
When I protest true loyalty to her,
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend :
When to her beauty I commend my vows,
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd :
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips 9,
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows arid fawneth on her still.
But here comes Thurio : now must we to her window,
And give some evening musick to her ear.
Enter THURIO, and Musicians.
'Thu. How now, sir Proteus ? are you crept before
us?
Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio ; for you know, that love
Will creep in service where it cannot go.
Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here.
Pro. Sir, but I do ; or else I would be hence.
Thu. Whom? Silvia?
Pro. Ay, Silvia, for your sake.
Thu. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen,
Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.
Enter HOST, at a distance; and JULIA in boy's clothes.
Host. Now, my young guest ! methinks you're
allycholly ; I pray you, why is it ?
Jid. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.
Host. Come, we'll have you merry : I'll bring you
where you shall hear musick, and see the gentleman
that you ask'd for.
Jnl. But shall I hear him speak ?
Host. Ay, that you shall.
Jid. That will be musick. [Musick plays.
Host. Hark! hark!
Jid. Is he among these ?
Host. Ay : but peace, let's hear 'em.
SONG.
Who is Silvia ? What is she ?
That all our swains commend her ?
Holy, fair, and wise is she ;
The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
9 Passionate reproaches.
Is she kind, as she is fair 9
For beaut// lives with kindness :
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;
And, being helped, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing,
That Silvia is excelling ;
She excels each mortal thing,
Upon the dull earth dwelling ;
To her let us garlands bring.
Host. How now ? are you sadder than you were
before ?
How do you, man ? the musick likes you not.
Jid. You mistake ; the musician likes me not.
Host. Why, my pretty youth ?
Jul. He plays false, father.
Host. How? out of tune on the strings?
Jul. Not so ; but yet so false that he grieves my
very heart-strings.
Host. You have a quick ear.
Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf ! it makes me have
a slow heart.
Host. I perceive you delight not in musick.
Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.
Host. Hark, what fine change is in the musick !
Jul. Ay ; that change is the spite.
Host. You would have them always play but one
thing ?
Jul. I would always have one play but one thing.
But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we talk on,
often resort unto this gentlewoman ?
Host. I tell you what Launce, his man, told mi>,
he loved her out of all nick. 1
Jul. Where is Launce?
Host. Gone to seek his dog ; which, to-morrow,
by his master's command, he must carry for a pre-
sent to his lady.
Jul. Peace ! stand aside ! the company parts.
Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you ! I will so plead,
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels.
Thu. Where meet we?
Pro. At saint Gregory's well.
Thu. Farewell. [Exeunt THU RIO and Musicians.
SILVIA appears above, at her window.
Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship.
Sil. I thank you for your musick, gentlemen :
Who is that, that spake ?
Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth,
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice.
Sil. Sir Proteus, as I take it.
Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant.
Sil. What is your will ?
Pro. That I may compass yours.
Stt. You have your wish ; my will is even this,
That presently you hie you home to bed.
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man !
Think'st thou, I am so shallow, so conceitless,
To be seduced by thy flattery,
That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows ?
Return, return, and make thy love amends.
For me, by this pale queen of night I swear,
I am so far from granting thy request,
That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit ;
And by and by intend to chide myself,
Even for this time I spend in talking to thee.
Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady
But she is dead.
i Beyond all reckoning.
SCENE IV.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
Jut. 'Twcre false, if I should speak it ;
For I am sure, she is not buried. [Aside.
Sil. Say that she be ; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am bethroth'd : And art thou not asham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy ?
Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.
Sil.' And so, suppose, am I ; for in his grave
Assure thyself my love is buried.
Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth.
Sil. Go to thy lady's grave, and call her's thence;
Or, at the least, in her's sepulchre thine.
Jul. He heard not that. [Aside.
Pro- Madam, if your heart be so obdurate,
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love,
The picture that is hanging in your chamber ;
To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep :
For, since the substance of your perfect self
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow ;
And to your shadow, I will make true love.
Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, de-
ceive it,
And make it but a shadow, as I am. [Aside.
Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir ;
But, since your falsehood shall become you well
To worship shadows, and adore false shapes,
Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it :
And so good rest.
Pro. As wretches have o'er night,
That wait for execution in the morn.
[Exeunt PROTEUS, and SILVIA from above.
Jul. Host, will you go?
Host. By my hallidom ', I was fast asleep.
Jul. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus ?
Host. Marry, at my house : Trust me, I think
'tis almost day.
Jul. Not so ; but it hath been the longest night
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The same.
Enter Eglamour.
Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia
Entreated me to call, and know her mind ;
There some great matter she'd employ me in.
Madam, madam !
SILVIA appears above, at her icindow.
Sil. Who calls?
Egl. Your servant, and your friend ;
One that attends your ladyship's command.
Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good-morrow.
Egl. As many, worthy lady to yourself.
According to your ladyship's impose %
I am thus early come, to know what service
It is your pleasure to command me in.
Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman,
(Think not I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,)
Valiant, wise, remorseful *, well accomplish'd.
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine;
Nor how my father would enforce me marry
Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhorr'd.
Thyself hast lov'd; and 1 have heard thce say,
No grief did ever come so near thy heart,
As when thy lady and thy true love died,
1 'pon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.
Kir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,
1 Holy dame, blessed lady.
4 Compassionate.
3 Injunction, command.
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode ;
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,
I do desire thy worthy company,
Upon whose faith and honour I repose.
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,
But think upon my grief, a lady's grief;
And on the justice of my flying hence,
To keep me from a most unholy match,
Which heaven and fortune still reward with plagues.
I do desire thee, even from a heart
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands,
To bear me company, and go with me :
If not, to hide what I have said to thee,
That I may venture to depart alone.
Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances .
Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd,
I give consent to go along with you ;
Recking 5 as little what betideth me,
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go ?
Sil. This evening coming.
Egl. Where shall I meet you ?
Sil. At friar Patrick's cc-11,
Where I intend holy confession.
Egl. I will not fail your ladyship :
Good-morrow, gentle lady.
Sil. Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The same.
Enter LAUNCH, with his dog.
When a man's servant shall play the cur with him,
look you, it goes hard : one that I brought up of a
puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three
or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it !
1 have taught him even as one would say pre-
cisely, Thus I would teach a dog. I was sent to
deliver him, as a present to mistress Silvia, from
my master ; and I came no sooner into the dining-
chamber, but he steps me to her trencher, and
steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, when* a
cur cannot keep 6 himself in all companies! I would
have, as one should say, one that takes upon him
to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all
things. If I had not had more wit than he, to take
a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had
been hanged for't ; sure as I live, he had suflered
for't. I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath
stolen, otherwise he had been executed : I have
stood on the pillory for geese he hath killed, other-
wise he had suffered for't : thou think'st not of this
now !
Enter PROTEUS and JULIA.
Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thce well,
And will employ thee in some service presently.
Jul. In what you please ; I will do what I can.
Pro. I hope thou wilt. How now, you idle
peasant? [To LAI M-F.
Where have you been these two days loitering?
Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the
dog you bade me.
Pro. And what says she to my little jewel ?
Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a cur; and
tells you, currish thanks is good enough for such a
present.
Pro. But she received my dog}
Laun. No, indeed, she did not: here have I
brought him back again.
s Caring.
D 2
6 Restrain.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. ACT IV. SCENE IV.
Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me ?
Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stolen from
me by the hangman's boys in the market-place :
and then I offered her mine own ; who is a dog as
big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the greater.
Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my dog again,
Or ne'er return again into my sight.
Away, I say : Stay'st thou to vex me here ?
A slave, that, still an end 7 , turns me to shame.
[Exit LAUNCE,
Sebastian, I have entertained thee,
Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt ;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour ;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth :
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.
Go presently, and take this ring with thee,
Deliver it to madam Silvia :
She loved me well, deliver'd it to me.
Jul. It seems you loved her not, to leave her
token :
She's dead, belike.
Pro. Not so j I think, she lives.
Jul. Alas!
Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas ?
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her ?
Jul. Because, methinks, that she lov'd you as well
As you do love your lady Silvia :
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love ;
You dote on her, that cares not for your love.
'Tis pity, love should be so contrary;
And thinking on it makes me cry, alas !
Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal
This letter ; That's her chamber. Tell my lady
I claim the promise for her heavenly picture.
Your message done, hie home unto my chamber,
Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary.
[Exit PROTEUS.
Jul. How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus ! thou hast entertain'd
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs :
Alas, poor fool ! why do I pity him
That with his very heart despiseth me?
Because he loves her, he despiseth me ;
Because I love him, I must pity him.
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me,
To bind him to remember my good will :
And now am I (unhappy messenger)
To plead for that which I would not obtain ;
To carry that which I would have refus'd ;
To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd.
I am my master's true confirmed love ;
But cannot be true servant to my master,
Unless I prove false traitor to myself.
Yet I will woo for him ; but yet so coldy,
As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed.
Enter SILVIA attended.
Gentlewoman, good day ! I pray you, be my mean
To bring me where to speak with madam Silvia.
SU. What would you with her, if that I be she ?
Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.
Sil. From whom?
Jul. From my master, sir Proteus, madam.
Sil. O ! he sends you for a picture ?
i In the end
.////. Ay, madam.
Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there.
[Picture brought.
Go, give your master this : tell him from me,
One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget,
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow.
Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter.
Pardon me, madam ; I have unadvis'd
Deliver'd you a paper that I should not ;
This is the letter to your ladyship.
Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again.
Jul. It may not be ; good madam, pardon me.
Sil. There, hold.
I will not look upon your master's lines :
I know they are stufF'd with protestations,
And full of new-found oaths ; which he will break
As easily as I do tear his paper.
Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring.
SU. The more shame for him that he sends it me :
For I have heard him say a thousand times,
His Julia gave it him at his departure :
Though his false finger hath profaii'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia; so much wrong.
Jul. She thanks you.
Sil. What say'st thou ?
Jul. I thank you, madam, that you tender her :
Poor gentlewoman ! my master wrongs her much.
Sil. Dost thou know her ?
Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself.
To think upon her woes, I do protest,
That I have wept an hundred several times.
Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her.
Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of
sorrow.
SU. Is she not passing fair ?
Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is :
When she did think my master lov'd her well,
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass,
And threw her sun-expelling mask away,
The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks,
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face,
That now she is become as black as I.
Sil. How tall was she?
Jul. About my stature : for at Pentecost 8 ,
When all our pageants of delight were play'd,
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimm'd in madam Julia's gown ;
Which serv'd me as fit, by all men's judgment,
As if the garment had been made for me :
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And, at that time, I made her weep a-good 9,
For I did play a lamentable part :
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight ;
Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly ; and, would I might be dead,
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow !
Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth !
Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left !
L weep myself to think upon thy words.
Here, youth, there is my purse ; I give thee this
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her.
Farewell. [EaU SILVIA.
Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you
know her.
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
Whitsuntide.
9 In good earnest
ACT V. SCENE I.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
37
I hope my master's suit will be but cold,
Since she respects my mistress' love so much.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
1 K re is her picture : Let me see ; I think,
If I had such a tire ', this face of mine
Were full as lovely as is this of hers :
And yet the painter flatter'd her a little,
Unless I flatter with myself too much.
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow :
If that be all the difference in his love,
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.
Her eyes are grey as glass ; and so are mine :
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high.
What should it be, that he respects in her,
But I can make respective in myself,
If this fond love were not a blinded god ?
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up,
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form,
Thou shall be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd ;
And, were there sense in his idolatry,
My substance should be statue in thy stead.
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake.
That us'd me so ; or else, by Jove I vow,
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes,
To make my master out of love v* ith thee.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The same. An Abbey.
Enter EGLAMOUR.
Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky ;
And now, it is about the very hour
That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me.
She \\ill not fail ; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time ;
So much they spur their expedition.
Enter SILVIA.
See, where she comes : Lady, a happy evening !
Sil. Amen, amen ! go on, good Eglamour !
Out at the postern by the abbey wall ;
I fear, I am attended by some spies.
Egl. Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off;
1 f \\ e recover that, we are sure enough. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The same. An Apartment in the
Duke's Palace.
Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA.
77m. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit ?
Pro. O, sir, I find her milder than she was ;
And yet she takes exceptions at your person.
Thu. What, that my leg is too long?
Pro. No ; that it is too little.
Thu. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder.
Pro. But love will not be spurr'd to what it loaths.
Thu. What says she to my face ?
Pro. She says, it is a fair one.
Thu. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black.
Pro. But pearls are fair ; and the old saying is,
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
Jul. 'Tis true ; such pearls as put out ladies' eyes ;
For I had rather wink than look on them. [Aside.
Thu. How likes she my discourse ?
Pro. Ill, when you talk of war.
Tliu. But well, when I discourse of love, and
peace ?
Jul. But better, indeed, when you hold your
IK-ace. [Aside.
Thu. What says she to my valour?
O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
Jul. She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.
[Aside.
Thu. What says she to my birth ?
That you are well dcriv'd.
Jul, True; from a gentleman to a fool. [Aside.
1 Head-dress.
Thu. Considers she my possessions ?
Pro. O, ay ; and pities them.
Thu. Wherefore?
Jul. That such an ass should owe - them. [Aside.
Pro. That they are out by lease.
Jul. Here comes the duke.
Enter DUKE.
Duke. How now, sir Proteus? how now, Thurio?
Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late ?
Thu. Not I.
Pro. Nor I.
Duke. Saw you my daughter?
Pro. Neither.
Duke. Why, then, she's fled unto that peasant
Valentine ;
And Eglamour is in her company.
'Tis true ; for friar Laurence met them both,
As he in penance wander'd through the forest :
Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she ;
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it :
Besides, she did intend confession
At Patrick's cell this even ; and there she was not :
These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence.
Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse,
But mount you presently ; and meet with me
Upon the rising of the mountain foot
That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled :
Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. [Exit.
Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl,
That flies her fortune when it follows her :
I'll after ; more to be revenged on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless 3 Silvia. [Exit*
Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love,
Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. [Exit.
Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love,
Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. [Exit.
SCENE III. Frontiers of Mantua. The Forest.
Enter SILVIA and Outlaws.
Out. Come, come ;
Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.
Sil. A thousand more mischances than tin's one
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently.
2 Out. Come, bring her away.
1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with her ?
3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath out-run us,
But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him.
2 Own. Carelcst.
D3
38
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
ACT V
Go thou with her to the west end of the wood,
There is our captain ; we'll follow him that's fled ;
The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape.
1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's
cave;
Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind,
And will not use a woman lawlessly.
Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest.
Enter VALENTINE.
Vol. How use doth breed a habit in a man !
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns :
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record 4 my woes.
thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was !
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !
What halloing, and what stir is this to-day ?
These are my mates, that make their wills their law,
Have some unhappy passenger in chase :
They love me well ; yet I have much to do,
To keep them from uncivil outrages.
Withdraw thee, Valentine : who's this comes here ?
[Stejis aside.
Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA.
Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you,
( Though you respect not aught your servant doth, )
To hazard life, and rescue you from him
That would have forc'd your honour and your love.
Vouchsafe me for my meed but one fair look ;
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.
Vol. How like a dream is this I see and hear !
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [Aside.
Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am !
Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came ;
But, by my coming, I have made you happy.
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most un-
happy.
Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your pre-
sence. [Aside.
Sil. Had I been seiz'd by a hungry lion,
1 would have been a breakfast to the beast,
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
O, heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ;
And full as much (for more there cannot be)
I do detest false perjur'd Proteus ;
Therefore begone, solicit me no more.
Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to
death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look ?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd 5 ,
When women cannot love where they're belov'd.
Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd.
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith
Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths
Descended into perjury, to love me.
Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou hadst two,
And that's far worse than none ; better have none
Sing.
5 Felt, experienced.
Than plural faith, which is too much by one :
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend !
Pro. In love,
Who respects friend ?
Sil. All men but Proteus.
Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
Can no way change you to a milder form,
I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ;
And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you.
Sil. O heaven !
Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire.
Vol. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ;
Thou friend of an ill fashion !
Pro. Valentine !
Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or
* love ;
( For such is a friend now,) treacherous man !
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes ; nought but mine eye
Could have persuaded me : Now I dare not say
I have one friend alive ; thou would'st disprove me.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,
I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest : O time, most curst !
'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst !
Pro. My shame and guilt confound me.
Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer,
As e'er I did commit.
Val Then I am paid ;
And once again I do receive thee honest :
Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd ;
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd :
And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.
Jul. O me unhappy ! [Faints-
Pro. Look to the boy.
Val. Why, boy ! why, wag ! how now ? what is'
the matter ?
Look up ; speak.
Jul. O good sir, my master charg'd me
To deliver a ring to madam Silvia ;
Which, out of my neglect, was never done.
Pro. Where is that ring, boy ?
Jul. Here 'tis : this is it. [ Gives a ring.
Pro. How ! let me see :
Why this is the ring I gave to Julia.
Jul. O, cry your mercy, sir, I have mistook ;
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.
[Shoivs another ring.
Pro. But, how cam'st thou by this ring ? at my
depart,
I gave this unto Julia.
Jul. And Julia herself did give it me ;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
Pro. How ! Julia !
Jul. Behold her that gave aim 6 to all thy oaths,
And entertain'd them deeply in her heart :
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ? 7
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush !
Be thou asham'd, that I have took upon me
Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live
In a disguise of love :
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Women to change their shapes, than mentheirminds.
6 Direction.
1 An allusion to cleaving the pin in archery.
SCENE IV.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
39
Pro. Than men their minds ? 'tis true : O heaven !
were man
But constant, he were perfect : that one error
Fills him with faults ; makes him run through all
sins :
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins :
What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ?
Vol. Come, come, a hand from either :
Let me be blest to make this happy close ;
'T \VIMV pity two such friends should be long foes.
7V >. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever.
Jnl. And I have mine.
Enter Out-laws, u*ith DUKE and THURIO.
Out. A prize, a prize, a prize !
Vol. Forbear, I say ; it is my lord the duke.
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd,
Banished Valentine.
Duke. Sir Valentine !
Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
Vol. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death ;
Come not within the measure of my wrath : 8
Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again,
Milan shall not behold thee. Here she stands,
Take but possession of her with a touch ;
I Hare thee but to breathe upon my love.
Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I ;
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not :
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.
Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means 9 for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
1 do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
8 Length of my sword.
9 Interest
And think thee worthy of an empress' love.
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,
To which I thus subscribe, sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ;
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her.
Vol. I thank your grace ; the gift hath made me
happy.
I now beseech you for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
Duke. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be.
Vol. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,
Are men endued with worthy qualities ;
Forgive them what they have committed here.
And let them be recall'd from their exile :
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
Duke. Thou hast prevail'd: I pardon them, and
thee;
Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts.
Come, let us go ; we will include ' all jars
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.
Vttl. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold
With our discourse to make your grace to smile :
What think you of this page, my lord ?
Duke- I think the boy hath grace in him : lie
blushes
Vol. I warrant you, my lord ; more grace than boy.
Duke. What mean you by that saying ?
Vol. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along,
That you will wonder what hath fortuned.
Come, Proteus ; 'tis your penance, but to hear
The story of your loves discovered :
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ;
One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
[ focunt.
1 Conclude.
D 4
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
SIR JOHN FAI.MAKK.
cox.
SHALLOW, a country Justice.
SLENDER, cousin to Shallow.
MR' PAGE' ) two Gentkmen dwelling at Windsor.
WILLIAM PAGE, a Boy, son to Mr. Page.
SIR HUGH EVANS, a Welsh Parson.
DR. CAIUS, a French Physician.
HOST of the Garter Inn.
BARDOLPH, ~|
PISTOL, \ Followers of Falstaff'.
NYM, J
SCENE, Windsor;
ROBIN, Page to Falstatfl
SIMPLE, Servant to Slender,
RUGBY, Servant to Dr. Caius.
Mas. FORD.
MRS. PACK.
MRS. ANNE PAGE, her Daughter, in love with Fenton.
MRS. QUICKLT, Servant to Dr. Caius.
Servants to Page, Ford,
and the parts adjacent.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR,
ACT I.
SCENE 1. Windsor, lie/ore Page'* House.
Enter Justice SHALLOW, SLENDER, and Sir } HUGH
EVANS.
Shallow. SIR HUGH, persuade me not; I will make
a Star-chamber matter of it ; if he were twenty sir
John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow,
esquire.
Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace,
and coram.
Slial. Ay, cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum**
Slen Ay, and ratolorum too ; and a gentleman
born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero ;
in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armi-
gero.
Shot. Ay, that we do : and have done any time
these three hundred years.
Slen. All his successors, gone before him, have
done't ; and all his ancestors, that come after him,
may : they may give the dozen white luces in their
coat.
Shal. It is an old coat.
Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old
coat well ; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar
beast to man, and signifies love.
Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is
an old coat.
1 A title formerly appropriated to chaplains.
a Custos Rotulorum
| Slen. I may quarter, coz ?
Slial. You may, by marrying.
Eva. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.
Shal. Not a whit.
Eva. Yes, py'r 3 lady ; if he has a quarter of your
coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my
j simple conjectures : but this is all one : If Sir J?hn
, Falstaflf have committed disparagements unto you,
I I am of the church, and will be glad to do my be-
nevolence, to make atonements and compromises
between you.
Shal. Tiie Council shall hear it ; it is a riot.
Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot ; there
is no fear of Got in a riot; the Council, look you,
shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear
a riot ; take your vizaments 4 in that.
Shal. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, the
sword should end it.
Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and
end it : and there is also another device in my prain,
which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with
it : There is Anne Page, which is daughter to
master George Page, which is pretty virginity.
Slen. Mistress Anne Page ? She has brown hair,
and speaks small like a woman.
Eva. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as
just as you will desire : and seven hundred pounds
of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire,
Bv cur.
Advisement.
SCENE I.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
41
upon his death's bed, give, when she is able to
overtake seventeen years old : it were a goot motion,
if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a
marriage between master Abraham and mistress
Anne Page.
Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred
pound ?
Eva. Ay, and herfather is make her a petter penny.
Shed. I know the young gentlewoman ; she has
good gifts.
Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities,
is good gifts. .
Shal. Well, let us see honest master Page : Is
Falstaff there ?
Eva. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar,
as I do despise one that is false ; or as I despise
one that is not true. The knight, sir John, is
there ; and, I beseech you, be ruled by your well-
fillers. I will peat the door [knocks] for master
Page. What, hoa ! pless your house here !
Enter PAGE.
Page. Who's there ?
Eva. Here's your friend, and justice Shallow :
and here young master Slender; that peradven-
tures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow
to your likings.
Page. I am glad to see your worships well : I
thank you for my venison, master Shallow.
Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you ; Much
good do it your good heart ! I wished your venison
better ; it was ill-kill'd : How doth good mistress
Page ? and I love you always with my heart, la ;
with my heart.
Page. Sir, I thank you.
Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do.
Page. I am glad to see you, good master Slender.
Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I
heard say he was outrun on Cotsale. 5
Page. It could not be judg'd, sir.
Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess.
Shal. That he will not ; 'tis your fault, 'tis your
fault : 'Tis a good dog.
Page. A cur, sir.
Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog ; Can
there be more said ? he is good, and fair. Is sir
John Falstaff here ?
Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could do
a good office between you.
Eva. It is spoke as a Christian ought to speak.
Shal. He hath wrong'd me, master Page.
Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it.
Shal. If it be confess'd, it is not redress'd ; is not
that so, master Page ? He hath wrong'd me ; in-
deed, he hath ; at a word, he hatli ; believe me ;
Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong'd.
Page. Here comes sir John.
Enter Sir JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and
PISTOL.
Fal. Now, master Shallow ; you'll complain of
me to the king ?
Shal. Knight you have beaten my men, killed my
deer, and broke open my lodge: this shall beanswer'd.
/>//. 1 will answer it straight ; I have done all
this : That is now answer'cl.
Shal. The Council shall know this.
Twere better for you, if it were known in
i you'll be laugh'd at.
-void, in Gloucestershire.
Eva. Pauca verba, sir John, good worts.
Ful. Good worts 6 ! good cabbage Slender, I
broke your head; What matter have you against
me?
Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head
against you ; and against Bardolph, Nym, and
Pistol. They carried me to the tavern, and made
me drunk, and afterwards picked my pocket.
Sar. You Banbury cheese ! 1
Slen. Ay, it is no matter.
Pist . How, now, Mephostophilus ? 8
Slen. Ay, it is.no matter.
Nym. Slice, I say ! pauca, pauca ; slice ! that's
my humour.
Slen. Where's Simple, my man ? can you tell,
cousin ?
Eva. Peace : I pray you ! Now let us understand :
There is three umpires in this matter as I under-
stand : that is master Page,Jidelicet, master Page ;
and there is myself, Jtdelicet, myself ; and the three
party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter.
Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between them.
Eva. Fery goot : I will make a prief of it in my
note-book ; and we will afterwards 'ork upon the
cause, with as great discreetly as we can.
Fal. Pistol,
Pist. He hears with ears.
Eva. What phrase is this, He hears with ear ?
Why, it is affectations.
Fal. Pistol, did you pick master Slender's purse?
Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, (or I would I
might never come in mine own great chamber again
else,) of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Ed-
ward shovel-boards , that cost me two shillings and
two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these gloves.
Fal. Is this true, Pistol ?
Eva. No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse.
Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! Sir John,
and master mine,
I combat challenge of this latten bilbo : '
Word of denial in thy labras here ;
Word of denial ; froth and scum, thou liest.
Slen. By these gloves, then 'twas he.
Nym. Be advised, sir, and pass good humours :
I will say, marry trap, with you if you run the nut-
book's 3 humour on me ; that is the very note of it.
Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it :
for though I cannot remember what I did when you
made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass.
Fal. What say you, Scarlet and John ?
Sard. Why, sir, for my part, I say, the gentleman
had drunk himself out of his five sentences.
Eva. It is his five senses : fie, what the igno-
ice is !
Hard. And being fap 4 , sir, was, as they say,
cashicr'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires. 5
Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too : but 'tis
no matter : I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again,
but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick :
if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have
the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves.
Eva. That is a virtuous mind.
Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentle-
men ; you hear it.
' Worts was the ancient name of all the cabbage kiti
' Nothing but paring !
8 The name of an ugly spirit
" King Edward's shillings used in the game of shufflcboard.
> Ulacfc as thin as a lath.
It \<>u say I am a thief.
The bounds of good behaviour.
3 Line
" Drunk.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT I.
Enter Mistress ANNE PAGE with wine; Mistress
FORD and Mistress PAGF. following.
Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we'll
drink within. [Ej.it ANNE PAGE.
Slen. O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page.
Page. How now, mistress Ford ?
Fat. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very
well met : by your leave, good mistress. [JCissing her.
Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome :
Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ;
come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all
unkindness.
[Exeunt all but SHAL. SLENDER, and EVANS.
Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had my
book of Songs and Sonnets here :
Enter SIMPLE.
How now, Simple ! where have you been ? I must
wait on myself, must I ? You have not The Book
if Riddles about you, have you ?
Sim. Hook of Riddles ! why did you not lend it
to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fort-
night afore Michaelmas ? 6
S/tal. Come, coz ; come, coz ; we stay for you.
A word with you, coz ; marry, this, coz ; There
is, as 'twere a tender, a kind of tender, made afar
oft' by sir Hugh here ; Do you understand me ?
Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable ; if
it be so, I shall do that that is reason.
Skal. Nay, but understand me.
Slen. So I do, sir.
Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender : I
will description the matter to you, if you be capa-
city of it.
Slen. Nay I will do as my cousin Shallow says :
I pray you, pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in
his country, simple though I stand here.
Eva. But this is not the question ; the question
is concerning your marriage.
* Shnl. Ay, there's the point, sir.
Eva. Marry, is it ; the very point of it ; to mis-
tress Anne Page.
Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her, upon
any reasonable demands.
Eva. But can you affection the 'oman ? Let us
command to know that of your mouth, or of your
lips ; for divers philosophers hold, that the lips is
parcel of the mouth ; Therefore, precisely, can
you carry your good will to the maid ?
Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her?
Slen. I hope, sir, I will do, as it shall become
one that would do reason.
Eva. Nay, you must speak possitable, if you can
carry her your desires towards her.
Shal. That you must . Will you, upon good
dowry, marry her?
Slen. I will do a greater thing than that, upon
your request, cousin, in any reason.
Shal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz ;
what I do, is to pleasure you, coz : Can you love
the maid ?
Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request ; but
if there be no great love in the beginning, yet
heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance;
when we are married, and have more occasion to
know one another : I hope, upon familiarity will
grow more contempt ; but if you say, marry her
(i An intended blunder.
I will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, and
dissolutely.
Eva. It is a fery discretion answer ; save, the
*auP is in the 'ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, according
o our meaning, resolutely ; his meaning is good.
Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well.
Slen. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la.
Re-enter ANNE PAGE.
Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne : Would
[ were young, for your sake, mistress Anne !
Anne. The dinner is on the table ; my father
desires your worships' company.
Shal. I will wait on him, fair mistress Anne.
Eva. I will not be absence at the grace.
[Exeunt SHALLOW and Sir H. EVANS.
Anne. Wil't please your worship to come in, sir ?
Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily ; I am
very well.
Anne. The dinner attends you, sir.
Slen. I am not a- hungry, I thank you, forsooth :
Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon
my cousin Shallow : [Exit SIMPLE.] A justice of
peace sometime may be beholden to his friend for
a man : I keep but three men and a boy yet, till
my mother be dead : But what though ? yet I live
like a poor gentleman born.
Anne. I may not go in without your worship :
they will not sit, till you come.
Slen. I'faith, I'll eat nothing ; I thank you as
much as though I did.
' Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in.
Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you : I
bruised my shin the other day with playing at sword
and dagger with a master of fence, three veneys ?
for a dish of stewed prunes ; and, by my troth, I
cannot abide the smell of hot meat since, Why do
your dogs bark so ? be there bears i'the town ?
Anne. I think there are, sir ; I heard them
talked of.
Slen. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon
quarrel at it, as any man in England : You are
afraid, if you see the bear loose, are you not ?
Anne. Ay, indeed, sir.
Slen. That's meat and drink to me now : I have
seen Sackerson 8 loose, twenty times : and have
taken him by the chain : but, I warrant you, the
women have so cried and shriek'd at it, that it
pass'd 9 : but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em ;
they are very ill-favoured rough things.
Re-enter PAGE.
Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come ; we
stay for you.
Slen. I'll eat nothing ; I thank you, sir.
Page. By cock and pye, you shall not choose,
sir ; come, come.
Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way.
Page. Come on, sir.
Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first.
Anne. Not I, sir, pray you, keep on.
Slen. Truly, I will not go first ; truly, la ; I will
not do you that wrong.
Anne. I pray you, sir.
Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly than trouble-
some ; you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. [Exeunt .
i Three set-to's, bouts, or hits.
R The name of abear exhibited at Pans- Garden, Southwark.
9 Surpassed all expression,
SCENE IV.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
SCENE II. The same.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE.
Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Cains'
house-, which is the way : and there dwells one
mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his
nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry,
his \vushcT, and his wringer.
Sim. Well, sir.
Eva. Nay, it is petter yet : give her this
letter ; for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance
with mistress Anne Page ; and the letter is, to de-
si re and to require her to solicit your master's desires
to mistress Anne Page : I pray you be gone ; I will
make an end of my dinner; there's pippins and cheese
to come. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FALSTAFF, Host, BARDOLPH, NVM, PISTOL,
and ROBIN.
Fal. Mine host of the Garter,
Host. What says my bully-rook ? Speak scholarly,
and wisely.
Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of
my followers.
Host. Discard, bully Hercules ; cashier : let them
wag : trot, trot.
Fal. I sit at ten pounds a week.
Host. Thou art an ernperor, Caesar, Keisar, and
Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw,
he shall tap : said I well, bully Hector?
Fal. Do so, good mine host.
Host. I have spoke ; let him follow : Let me see
tliee froth, and lime : I am at a word ; follow.
[Exit Host.
Fal. Bardolph, follow him ; a tapster is a good
trade ; an old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered
servingman, a fresh tapster ; Go, adieu.
.D'.ird. It is a life that I have desired ; I will thrive.
[Exit BARD.
Fist. O base Gongarian ' wight ! wilt thou the
spigot wield ?
Nym. His mind is not herofck, and there's the
humour of it.
Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box :
his thefts were too open : his filching was like an
unskilful singer, he kept not time.
Nym. The good humour is, to steal at a minute's
rest.
Pist. Convey, the wise it call : Steal ! foh, a fico a
for the phrase !
Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
Pist. Why then let kibes ensue.
Fal. There is no remedy ; I must shift.
Pis/. Young ravens must have food.
Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town ?
Pist. I ken the wight ; he is of subtance good.
Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am
boot
Pist. Two yards and more.
Fal. No quips now, Pistol ; indeed I am in the
wai-t two yards about: but I am now about no
aste ; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to
make love to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment in
her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer
of invitation; I can construe the action of her
1 For Hungarian.
Fig.
familiar style ; and the hardest voice of her beha-
viour, to be English'd rightly, is, / am Sir John
Fall's.
Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated
her well ; out of honesty into English.
Nym. The anchor is deep : will that humour pass?
Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of
her husband's purse.
Pist. To her, boy, say I.
Nym. The humour rises ; it is good.
Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her : and here
another to Page's wife ; who even now gave me good
eyes too ; she bears the purse too ; she is a region
in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater 3
to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me ;
they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will
trade to them both. Go, bear thou this letter to
mistress Page ; and thou this to mistress Ford : we
will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
Pist. Shall I sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side wear steel ? then, Lucifer take all !
Nym. I will run no base humour ; here, take the
humour letter ; I will keep the 'haviour of reputation.
Fal. Hold, sirrah, [To ROB.] bear you these
letters tightly 4 ;
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence avaunt ! vanish like hailstones, go ;
Trudge, plod away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack !
Falstaff will learn the humour of this age,
French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted page.
[Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN.
Pist. Let vultures gripe thee, for gourd and
fullam 5 hold,
And high and low beguile the rich and poor :
Tester I'll have in pouch 6 , when thou shall lack,
Base Phrygian Turk !
Nym. I have operations in my head, which be
humours of revenge.
Pist. Wilt thou revenge ?
Nym. By welkin, and her star !
Pist . With wit, or steel ?
Nym. With both the humours, I :
I will discuss the humour of tliis love to Page.
Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold,
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.
Nym. My humour shall not cool : I will incense 1
Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with
yellowness , for the revolt of mien is dangerous :
that is my true humour.
Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I second
thee ; troop on. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Room in Dr. Caius'j House.
Enter Mrs. QUICKLY, SIMPLE, and RUGBY.
Quick. What ; John Rugby ! I pray thee, go to
the casement, and see if you can see my n,
master doctor Cains, coming: if he do, i'iaith, and
find any body in the house, here will be an old
abusing of the king's. English.
Rug. I'll go watch. [Exit RUGBY.
Quick. Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soon
at night, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. An
honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall
3 Eti/icatour, an officer in the Exchequer.
Cleverly. . dice.
Sixpence I'll have in pocket 1 Instigate.
* Jealousy.
44
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT I. SCENE IV
come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no tell-
tale, nor no breed-bate 9 : his worst fault is, that he
is given to prayer : he is something peevish ' that
way : but nobody but has his fault ; but let that
pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is ?
Sim. Ay, for fault of a better.
Quick. And mastejr Slender's your master ?
Sim. Ay, forsooth.
Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, like
a glover's paring knife ?
Sim. No, forsooth : he hath but a little wee face,
with a little yellow beard ; a Caiu-coloured beard.
Quick. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall 2 a man of his
hands, as any is between this and his head ; he hath
fought with a warrener.
Quick. How say you ? O, I should remember
him ; does he not hold up his head, as it were ? and
strut in his gait ?
Sim. Yes, indeed, does he.
Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse
fortune. Tell master parson Evans, I will do what
I can for your master ; Anne is a good girl, and I
wish
Re-enter RUGBY.
Rug. Out, alas ! here comes my master.
Quick. We shall all be shent 3 : Run in here, good
young man ; go into this closet. [Shuts SIMPLE in
the closet.] He will not stay long -- What, John
Rugby ! John, what, John, I say ! Go, John, go
enquire for my master ; I doubt he be not well,
that he comes not home : and down, down,
adown-a, &c. [Sings.
Enter Doctor CAIUS.
Caius. Vat is you sing ? I do not like dese toys ;
Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet un boitier
verd ; a box, a green-a box ; Do intend vat I speak ?
a green-a box.
Quick. Ay forsooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad
he went not in himself; if he had found the young
man, he would have been horn-mad. [Aside.
Caius. Fe, fe, fe, fe ! ma foi, U fait fort chaud.
Je nien vais a la cour, la grande affaire.
Quick. Is it this, sir ?
Caius. Ouy ; mette le au mon pocket ; Depeche,
quickly : Vere is dat knave Rugby ?
Quick. What, John Rugby ! John !
Rug. Here, sir.
Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack
Rugby : Come, take-a your rapier, and come after
my heel to de court.
Rug. "Pis ready, sir, here in the porch.
Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long : Od's me !
Qu'ay-f oublie ? dere is some simples in my closet,
dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind.
Quick. Ah me ! he'll find the young man there,
and be mad.
Caius. diable, diable ! vat is in my closet ?
Villainy ? larron ! [Pulling SIMPLE out.] Rugby,
my rapier.
Quick. Good master, be content.
Caius. Verefore shall I be content-a ?
Quick. The young man is an honest man.
Caius. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet?
dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet.
Quick. I beseech you, be not so flegmatick ; hear
9 Strife. i Foolish.
3 Scolded, reprimanded.
" Brave.
the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from
parson Hugh.
Caius. Veil.
Sim. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to
Quick. Peace, I pray you.
Caius. Peace-a your tongue : Speak-a your tale.
Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your
maid, to speak a good word to mistress Anne Page
for my master, in the way of marriage.
Quick. This is all, indeed, la ; but I'll ne'er put
my finger in the fire, and need not.
Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you ? Rugby, batflez
me some paper : Tarry you a little-a while.
[Writes.
Quick. I am glad he is so quiet : if he had been
thoroughly moved, you should have heard him so
loud, and so melancholy : But notwithstanding,
man, I'll do your master what good I can : and the
very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my
master, I may call him my master, look you, for
I keep his house ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake,
scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and
do all myself ;
Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under one
body's hand.
Quick. Are you avis'd o' that ? you shall find it
a great charge : and to be up early and down late :
but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your ear ;
I would have no words of it;) my master himself
is in love with mistress Anne Page ; but notwith-
standing that, I know Anne's mind, that's
neither here nor there.
Caius. You jack'nape; give-a dis letter to sir
Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge ; I vill cut his troat
in de park ; and I will teach a scurvy jack-a-nape
priest to meddle or make : you may be gone ; it
is not good you tarry here. [ Exit SIMPLE.
Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend.
Caius. It is no matter-a for dat ; do not you
tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself?
by gar, I will kill de jack priest ; and I have ap-
pointed mine host of de Jarterre to measure our
weapon : by gar, I vill myself have Anne Page.
Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be
well : we must give folks leave to prate.
Caius. Rugby, come to the court vit me ; By
gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your head
out of my door : Follow my heels, Rugby.
[Exeunt CAIUS and RUGBY.
Quick. You shall have An fools-head of your own.
No, I know Anne's mind for that ; never a woman
in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do ;
nor can do more than I do with her.
Pent. [Within.] Who's within there, ho?
Quick. Who's there, I trow? Come near the
house, I pray you.
Enter FENTON.
Fent. How now, good woman ; how dost thou ?
Quick. The better, that it pleases your good wor-
ship to ask.
Fent. What news? how does pretty mistress Anne ?
Quick. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest,
and gentle : and one that is your friend, I can tell
you that by the way ; I praise heaven for it.
Fent. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou ? Shall
I not lose my suit ?
Quick. Troth, sir, all is in his hands above ; but
notwithstanding, master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a
ACT II. SCENE I.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
book she loves you : Have not your worship a
wart above your eye ?
1 -\-nt. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?
QuickC Well, thereby hangs a tale ; good faith,
it is such another Nan j but, I detest 4 , an honest
ii;;tid as ever broke bread : We had an hour's
talk of that wart ; I shall never laugh but in that
maid's company ! But, indeed, she is given too
much to allicholly 5 and musing: But for you
Well, go to.
Fent. Well, I shall see her to-day : Hold, there's
money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my behalf :
if thou seest her before me, commend me
Quick. Will I ? i'faith, that we will : and I will
tell your worship more of the wart, the next time we
have confidence ; and of other wooers.
Font. Well, farewell ; I am in great haste now.
[Exit.
Quick. Farewell to your worship. Truly, an
honest gentleman ; but Anne loves him not : for I
know Anne's mind as well as another does : Out
upon't ! what have I forgot ? [Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Before Page's House.
Enter Mistress PAGE, with a letter.
Mrs. Page. What ! have I 'scaped love-letters in
the holy-day time of my beauty, and am I now a
subject for them ? Let me see : [Reads.
Ask me no reason why I love you ; for though love
use reason for his precisian 6 , he admits him not for his
ciiniixtilor : You are not young, no more am I : go
to then, there's sympathy : you are merry, so am I ;
Ha I ha I then there's more sympathy : you love sack,
find go do I ; Would you desire better sympathy 9 Let
it suffice thee, mistress Page, (at ttte least, if the love
of a soldier can suffice,) that I love thee. I will not
say, pity me, 'tis not a soldierlike phrase ; but I say,
love me. By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
With all his might,
For thee tofght,
JOHN FALSTAFF.
wicked, wicked world ! one that is well nigh
worn to pieces with age, to show himself a young
gallant! What unweighed behaviour hath this
l-'lemish drunkard picked out of my conversation,
that he dares in this manner assay me ? Why, he
hath not been thrice in my company ! What should
1 say to him ? I was then frugal of my mirth.
Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the
putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on
him ? for revenged I will be.
Enter Mistress FORD.
Mrs. Ford. Mrs. Page ! trust me, I was going to
your house.
Mrs. Page. And trust me, I was coming to you.
You look very ill.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that ; I have
to show to the contrary.
Mrs. Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind.
.U/-s. Ford. Well, I do then ; yet, I say, I could
si low you to the contrary : O, mistress Page, give
me some counsel !
Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman ?
Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one trifling
respect, I could come to such honour !
I 'age. Hang the trifle, woman : take the
honour: What is it? dispense with trifles;
what is it?
* She means, I protest Melancholy.
* Mot probably Shakspcare wrote physician.
Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal
moment, I could be knighted.
Mrs. Page. What? Sir Alice Ford !
Mrs. Ford. We burn daylight : i here, read,
read ; perceive how I might be knighted, I
shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have
an eye to make difference of men's liking : And
yet he would not swear ; praised women's modesty ;
and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to
all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his dis-
position would have gone to the truth of his words :
but they do no more adhere and keep place together,
than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green
sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale,
with so many tuns of oil in him, ashore. at Windsor ?
How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the
best way were to entertain him with hope, till the
wicked fire have melted him. Did you ever hear
the like ?
Mrs. Page. Letter for letter ; but that the name
of Page and Ford differs ! To thy great comfort
in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother
of thy letter : but let thine inherit first ; for, I pro-
test, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand
of these letters writ with blank space for different
names (sure more), and these are of the second
edition : He will print them out of doubt.
Mrs. Ford. Why this is the very same ; the very
hand, the very words : What doth he think of
us?
Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not : it makes me al-
most ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll
entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted
withal ; for, sure, unless he know some strain in
me, that I know not myself, he would never have
boarded me in this fury. Let's be revenged on
him ; let's appoint him a meeting ; give him a show
of comfort in his suit : and lead him on with a fine-
baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine
host of the Garter.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy
against him, that may not sully the chariness 7 O f
our honesty. O, that my husband saw this letter !
it would give eternal food to his jealousy.
Mrs. Page. Why, look, where he comes ; and my
good man too : he's as far from jealousy, as I am
from giving him cause ; and that, I hope, is an un-
measurable distance.
Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman.
Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this
greasy knight . Come hither. [They retire.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT II.
Enter FORD, PISTOL, PAGE, and NYM.
Ford. Well, I hope it be not so.
Pint. Hope is a curtail dog in some affairs :
Sir John affects thy wife.
Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young.
7^. He wooes both high and low, both rich and
poor,
Both young and old, one with another, Ford ;
He loves thy gally-mawfry 9 ; Ford, perpend. '
Ford. Love my wife ?
Pist . With liver burning hot : Prevent, or go thou
Like sir Actaeon he, with Ring- wood at thy heels :
O, odious is the name !
Ford. What name, sir ?
Pist. The horn, I say : Farewell.
Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by
night :
Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birds do
sing.
Away, sir corporal Nym.
Believe it, Page ; he speaks sense. [Exit PISTOL.
Ford. I will be patient ; I will find out this.
Nym. And this is true. [To PAGE.] I like not
the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some
humours ; I should have borne the humoured letter
to her : but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon
my necessity. He loves your wife; there's the
short and the long. My name is corporal Nym ;
I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true : my name is
Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu ! I love
not the humour of bread and cheese ; and there's the
humour of it. Adieu. [Exit NYM.
Page. The humour of it, quoth 'a ! here's a fellow
frights humour out of his wits.
Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.
Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting
rogue.
Ford. If I do find it, well.
Page. I will not believe such a Cataiari ?, tho' the
priest o' the town commended him for a true man.
Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow : Well.
. Page. How now, Meg ?
Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George ? Hark you.
Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank ? why art thou
melancholy ?
Ford. I melancholy ! I am not melancholy.
Get you home, go.
Mrs. Ford. Thou hast some crotchets in thy head
now. Will you go, mistress Page ?
Mrs. Page. Have with you. You'll come to
dinner, George ? Look, who eomes yonder : she
shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.
[Aside to Mrs. FORD.
Enter Mistress QUICKLY.
Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her : she'll
fit it.
Mrs. Page. You^ are corne to see my daughter
Anne ?
Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and, I pray, how does good
mistress Anne?
Mrs. Page. Go in with us, and see ; we have an
nour's talk with you.
[Exeunt Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and
Mrs. QUICKLY.
Page. How now, master Ford ?
fl A dog that misses his game.
' Consider.
9 A medley.
2 A lying sharper
Ford. You heard what this knave told me ; did
you not ?
Page. Yes ; and you heard what the other told me?
Ford. Do you think there is truth in them ?
Page. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight
would offer it: but these that accuse him in his
intent towards our wives, are a yoke of his discarded
men ; very rogues, now they be out of service.
Ford. Were they his men ?
Page. Marry, were they.
Ford. I like it never the better for that. Does
he lie at the Garter ?
Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend
this voyage towards my wife, I would turn her loose
to him ; and what he gets more of her than sharp
words, let it lie on my head.
Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife ; but I would
be loth to turn them together : A man may be too
confident : I would have nothing lie on my head :
I cannot be thus satisfied.
Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter
comes : there is either liquor in his pate, or money
in his purse, when he looks so merrily. How how,
mine host?
Enter HOST and SHALLOW.
Host. How now, bully-rook ? thou'rt a gentle-
man : cavalero-justice, I say.
Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even
and twenty, good master Page ! Master Page, will
you go with us ? we have sport in hand.
Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him, bully-
rook.
Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between sir
Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius the French doctor.
Ford. Good mine host of the Garter, a word with
you.
Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook ?
[They go aside.
Shal. Will you [to PAGE] go with us to behold
it ? my merry host hath had the measuring of their
weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them
contrary places : for, believe me, I hear, the parson
is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport
shall be.
Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my
guest-cavalier ?
Ford. None, I protest : but I'll give you a pottle
of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell
him, my name is Brook ; only for a jest.
Host. My hand, bully : thou shalt have egress
and regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall be
Brook : It is a merry night. Will you go on,
hearts ?
Shal. Have with you, mine host.
Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath good
skill in his rapier.
Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more ! In
these times you stand on distance, your passes,
stoccadoes, and I know not what: 'tis the heart,
master Page ; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the
time, with my long sword, I would have made you
four tall fellows skip like rats.
Host. Here, boys, nere, here ! shall we wag ?
Page. Have with you : I had rather hear them
scold than fight.
[Exeunt HOST, SHALLOW, and PAGE.
Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands
so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off
my opinion so easily : she was in his company at
SCENE IT.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
Page's house ; and, what they made there, I know
not. Well, I will look further into't : and I have
a disguise to sound Falstaff: If I find her honest, I
lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour
well bestowed. [Eiit.
SCENE II. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL.
Fed. I will not lead thee a penny.
7V.s7. Why then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.
I will retort the sum in equipage. 3
Fal* Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you
should lay my countenance to pawn ; I have grated
upon my good friends for three reprieves for you
and your coach-fellow 4 Nym ; or else you had
looked through the grate like a geminy of baboons.
I am disgraced for swearing to gentlemen my friends,
you were good soldiers, and tall fellows : and when
mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't
upon mine honour, thou hadst it not.
Pist. Didst thou not share? hadst thou not
fifteen pence?
Fat. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think'st thou,
I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word, hang no
more about me, I am no gibbet for you : go.
A short knife and a throng 5 : to your manor
of Pickt-hatch 6 , go. You'll not bear a letter for
me, you rogue ! you stand upon your honour!
Why, thou unconfi nable baseness, it is as much
as I can do, to keep the terms of my honour pre-
cise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of
heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in
my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and to
lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce 7 your
, your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice 8
p!ir.iM.-s, and your bold-beating oaths, under the
Miclter of your honour ! You will not do it, you ?
Vlsl. I do relent: whatwould'st thou more of man?
Enter ROBIX.
Rob. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
Fal. Let her approach.
Enter Mrs. QUICKLY.
Quick. Give your worship good-morrow.
Fal. Good-morrow, good wife.
Quick. Not so, an't please your worship.
Fal. Good maid, then,
Quick. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, the
first hour I was born.
Fal. I do believe the swearer : What with me ?
Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two?
Fal. Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll vouch-
safe thee the hearing.
Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir; I pray,
come a little nearer tins ways ; I myself dwell
with master doctor Caius.
Fnl. Well, on : INI i stress Ford you say,
Quick. Your worship says very true : I pray your
worship, come a little nearer this ways.
Fal. I warrant thee, nobody hears; mine own
people, mine own people.
Quit-k. Are they so? Heaven bless them, and
make them his servants !
Fal. Well : Mistress Ford : what of her ?
* Pay you again in stolen goods.
* Draws along with you. * To cut purses in a crowd.
Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell. 1 Protect,
8 Alo-house.
Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature ; but
your worship's a wanton : Well, heaven forgive
you, and all of us, I pray !
Fal. Mistress Ford ; come, mistress Ford,
Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of
it ; you have brought her into such a canaries , as
'tis wonderful. The best courtier of them all,
when the court lay at Windsor, could never have
brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been
knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their
coaches ; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter
after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly
(all musk), and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk
and gold ; and in such alligant terms ; and in such
wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would
have won any woman's heart ; and, I warrant you,
they could never get an eye-wink of her. I had
myself twenty angels given me this morning : but
I defy all angels, (in any such sort, as they say,)
but in the way of honesty : and, I warrant you,
they could never get her so much as sip on a cup
with the proudest of them all ; and yet there has
been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners ; but, I
warrant you, all is one with her.
Fal. But what says she to me? be brief, my
good she- Mercury.
Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter ; for
the which she thanks you a thousand times ; and
she gives you to notify, that her husband will be
absence from his house between ten and eleven.
Fal. Ten and eleven ?
Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and then you may come
and see the picture, she says that you wot ' of ;
master Ford, her husband, will be from home.
Alas ! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him ;
he's a very jealousy man ; she leads a very fram-
pold - life with him, good heart.
Fal. Ten and eleven : Woman, commend me to
her ; I will not fail her.
Quick. Why, you say well : But I have another
messenger to your worship : Mistress Page hath her
hearty commendations to you too ; and let me
tell you in your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest
wife, and one (I tell 'you) that will not miss your
morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor,
whoe'er be the other : and she bade me tell your
worship, that her husband is seldom from home ;
but, she hopes, there will come a time. I never
knew a woman so dote upon a man ; surely, I think
you have charms, la ; yes, in truth.
Fal. Not I, I assure thee ; setting the attraction
of my good parts aside, I have no other charms.
Quick. Blessing on your heart for't !
Fal. But, I pray thee, tell me this : has Ford's
wife, and Page's wife, acquainted each other how
they love me ?
Quick. That were a jest, indeed ! they have
not so little grace, I hope: that were a trick,
indeed ! But mistress Page would desire you to
send her your little Page, of all loves^; her husband
has a marvellous infection to the little page: and,
truly, master Page is an honest man. Never a wife
in Windsor leads a better life than she does; do
what she will, say what she will, take all, pay all,
all is as she will ; and, truly, she < : tor if
there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You
must send her your Page ; no remedy.
s A mistake of Mrs. Quickly's for quandary.
i Know. ' Fretful, peevish. 3 By all
4-8
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT II.
Fal. Why, I will.
Quick. Nay, but do so, then : and, look you, he
may come and go between you both ; and, in any
case, have a nay- word 4 , that you may know one
Another's mind, and the boy never need to under-
stand any thing ; for 'tis not good that children
should know any wickedness : old folks, you know,
have discretion, as they say, and know the world.
Fal. Fare thee well : commend me to them both :
there's my purse ; I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go
along with this woman. This news distracts me.
[Exeunt QUICKLY and ROBIN.
Pist. This is one of Cupid's carriers :
Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your fights ;
Give fire ; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all !
[Exit PISTOL.
Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack ? go thy ways ; I'll
make more of thy old body than I have done. Will
they yet look after thee ? Wilt thou, after the ex-
pence of so much money, be now a gainer ?
Enter BARDOLPH.
Sard. Sir John, there's one master Brook below
would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with
you; and hath sent your worship a morning's draught
of sack.
Fal. Brook, is his name ?
Sard. Ay, sir.
Fal. Call him in. [Exit BARDOLPH.] Such
Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflow such
liquor. Ah ! ha ! mistress Ford and mistress Page,
have I encompassed you ? go to ; via ! 5
Re-enter BARDOLPH, with FORD disguised.
Ford. Bless you, sir.
Fal. And you, sir : Would you speak with me ?
Ford. I make bold, to press with so little prepar.
ation upon you.
Fal. You're welcome ; What's your will ? Give
us leave, drawer. [Exit BARDOLPH.
Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent
much ; my name is Brook.
Fal. Good master Brook, L desire more acquaint-
ance of you.
Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours : not to
charge you ; for I must let you understand, I think
myself in better plight for a lender than you are :
the which hath something embolden'd me to this
unseason'd intrusion : for they say, if money go
before, all ways do lie open.
Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on.
Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here
troubles me : if you will help me to bear it, sir
John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage.
Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be
your porter.
Ford. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the
hearing.
Fal. Speak, good master Brook ; I shall be glad
to be your servant.
Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar, I will be
brief with you ; and you have been a man long
"known to me, though I had never so good means,
as desire, to make myself acquainted with you. I
shall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very
much lay open mine own imperfection : but, good
sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as
you hear them unfolded, turn another into the
4 A watch- word.
5 A cant phrase of exultation. 6 Since.
register of your own ; that I may pass with a. re-
proof the easier, sith 6 you yourself know, how easy
it is to be such an offender.
Fal. Very well, sir ; proceed.
Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her
husband's name is Ford.
Fal. Well, sir.
Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to
you, bestowed much on her ; followed her with a
doting observance ; engrossed opportunities to meet
her ; fee'd every slight occasion, that could bul
niggardly give me sight of her ; not only bought
many presents to give her, but have given largely
to many, to know what she would have given :
briefly, I have pursued her, as love hath pursued
me ; which hath been, on the wing of all occasions.
But whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind,
or in my means, meed, I am sure, I have received
none; unless experience be a jewel: that I have
purchas'd at an infinite rate ; and that hath taught
me to say this :
Love like a shadow flies, when substance love pursues ;
Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfac-
tion at her hands ?
Ford. Never.
Fal. Have you importun'd her to such a purpose ?
Ford. Never.
Fal. Of what quality was your love then ?
Ford. Like a fair house, built upon another
man's ground ; so that I have lost my edifice, by
mistaking the place where I erected it.
Fal. Towhatpurposehaveyou unfolded this to me?
Ford. When I have told you that, I have told
you all. Some say, that, though she appear honest
to me, yet, in other places, she enlargeth her mirth
so far, that there is shrewd construction made of
her. Now, sir John, here is the heart of my pur-
pose : You are a gentleman of excellent breeding,
admirable discourse, of great admittance 7, authentic
in your place and person, generally allowed 8 for your
many warlike, courtlike, and learned preparations.
Fal. O, sir !
Ford. Believe it, for you know it. There is
money ; spend it, spend it ; spend more ; spend all
I have ; only give me so much of your time in ex-
change of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the ho-
nesty of this Ford's wife : use your art of wooing,
win her to consent to you ; if any man may, you
may as soon as any.
Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of
your affection, that I should win what you would
enjoy? Methinks you prescribe to yourself veiy
preposterously .
Ford. O, understand my drift! she dwells so
securely on the excellency of her honour, that the
folly of my soul dares not present itself; she is too
bright to be looked against. Now, could I come
to her with any detection in my hand, my desires
had instance and argument to commend themselves ;
I could drive her then from the ward of her purity,
her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand
other her defences, which now are too strongly
embattled against me : What say you to't, sir John ?
Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with
your money ; next, give me your hand ; and last,
as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, have
Ford's wife.
" In the greatest companies.
3 Approved.
SCENE III.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
49
Ford. O good sir !
'Fal. Master Brook, I say you shall.
Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want
none.
Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you
shall want none. I shall be with her (I may tell
you) by her own appointment ; even as you came
in to me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from
me : I say, I shall be with her between ten and
cloven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave,
her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at
night ; you shall know how I speed.
Ford. I am -blest in your acquaintance. Do you
know Ford, sir ?
Fal. Hang him, poor knave ! I know him not :
yet I wrong him to call him poor ; they say, the
jealous knave hath masses of money ; for the which
his wife seems to me well-favoured. I will use her
as the key of the rogue's coffer ; and there's my
harvest-home.
Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir ; that you
might avoid him, if you saw him.
Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue ! I
will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe him with
iny cudgel : it shall hang like a meteor o'er his horns :
master Brook, thou shall know, I will predominate
o'er the peasant, and thou shalt have his wife.
Come to me soon at night : Ford's a knave, and
T will aggravate his stile 9 ; thou, master Brook,
shalt know him for a knave and cuckold : come
to me soon at night. [Exit.
Ford. What an Epicurean rascal is this ! My
heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who
says this is improvident jealousy? My wife hath
sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made.
Would any man have thought this ? See the
curse of having a false woman ! my bed shall be
abused, my cotters ransacked, my reputation gnawn
at ; and I shall not only receive this villainous
wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable
terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Page
is an ass, a secure ass ; he will trust his wife, he
will not be jealous : I will rather trust a Fleming
with my butter, parson Hugh the Welshman with
my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitas bottle,
or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than my
wife with herself: then she plots, then she rumi-
nates, then she devises: and what they think in
their hearts they may effect, they will break their
hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for
my jealousy ! Eleven o'clock the. hour ; I will
prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Fal-
staff, and laugh at Page. I will about it ; better
throe hours too soon, than a minute too late. Fie,
fie, fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold ! [Exit.
SCENE III. Windsor Park.
Enter CAIUS and RUGBY.
Cains. Jack Rugby !
. Sir.
us. Vat is dc clock, Jack ?
'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro-
mised to moot.
Cains. By gar, lie has save his soul, dat he is no
come ; he lias pray his Pible- veil, dat he is no
come : by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if
he be i
1 to his titles.
Rttg. He is wise, sir; he knew, your worship
would kill him, if he came.
Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill
kill him. Take your rapier, Jack ; I vill tell you
how I vill kill him.
Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence.
Caius. Villainy, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear, here's company.
Enter HOST, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE.
Host. 'Bless thee, bully doctor.
Shot. 'Save you, master doctor Caius.
Page. Now, good master doctor !
Slen. Give you good morrow, sir.
Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for.
Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin ', to see
thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there ; to
see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy
distance, thy mont^nt. 5 Is he dead, my Ethiopian?
is he dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! What says
my ^Esculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder?
ha ! is he dead, bully Stale ? is he dead ?
Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of the
vorld ; he is not show his face.
Host. Thou art a Castilian king ! a Hector of
G reece, my boy !
Caius. I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay
six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no
come.
Shal. He is the wiser man, master doctor : ho is
a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies ; if you
should fight, you go against the hair of your pro-
fessions : is it not true, master Page ?
Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been
a great fighter, though now a man of peace.
Shal. Bodykins, master Page, though I now be
old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my
finger itches to make one : though we are justices,
and doctors, and churchmen, master Page, we have
some salt of our youth in us ; we are the sons of
women, master Page.
Page. 'Tis true, master Shallow.
Shal. It will be found so, master Page. Master
doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am
sworn of the peace ; you have showed yourself a
wise physician, and sir Hugh hath shown himself a
wise and patient churchman : you must go with me,
master doctor.
Host. Pardon, guest justice : A word, monsieur.
Caius. Scurvy Jack-dog priest ! by gar, me vill
cut his ears.
Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is dat ?
Host. That is, he will make thee amends.
Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall clappcr-de-
claw me ; for by gar, me vill have it.
Host. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.
Caius. Me tank you for dat.
Host. And moreover, bully, But first, master
guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender,
go you through the town to Frogmore.
[Aside to them.
Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he?
Host. He is there : see what humour he is in ;
and I will bring the doctor about by the fields: will
it do well ?
Stial. We will do it.
- . S/ial. and Slcn. Adieu, good master doctor.
[Ercunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.
1 Fence. s Terms in fencing.
50
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT III.
Caius. By gar, me vill kill dc priest; for he speak
for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.
Host. Let him die : but, first, sheath thy impa-
tience ; throw cold water on thy choler : go about
the fields with me through Frogmore: I will bring
thee where Mrs. Anne Page is, at a farm-house, a
feasting ; and thou shalt woo her : said I well ?
Cams. By gar, me tank you for dat : by gar, I
love you ; and 1 shall procure-a you de good guest,
de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my
patients.
Host. For the which, I will be thy adversary to-
wards Anne Page ; said I well ?
Caius. By gar, 'tis good ; veil said.
Host. Let us wag then.
Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Field near Frogmore.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE.
Eva. I pray you now, good master Slender's
serving man, and friend Simple by your name,
which way have you looked for master Caius, that
calls himself Doctor of Physick ?
Sim. Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward,
every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but
the town way.
Eva. I most fehemently desire you, you will also
look that way.
Sim. I will, sir.
Eva. 'PI ess my soul ! how full of cholers I am,
and trembling of mind ! I shall be glad, if he
have deceived me : how melancholies }- am ! I
will knog his knave's costards, when I have good
opportunities for the 'ork: 'pless my soul ! [Sings.
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals ;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow
Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious birds sing madrigals ;
When as I sat in Pabylon,
And a thousan vagram posies.
To shallow
Sim. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh.
Eva. He's welcome :
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Heaven prosper the right ! What weapons is he?
Sim. No weapons, sir : There comes my master,
master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog-
more, over the stile, this way
Eva. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep
it in your arms.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.
Shal. How now, master parson ? Good morrow,
good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and
a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.
Slen. Ah, sweet Anne Page !
Page. Save you, good sir Hugh !
Eva. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you !
Shal. What ! the sword and the word ! do you
study them both, master parson ?
Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and
hose, this raw rheumatic day ?
Eva. There is reasons and causes for it.
Page. We are come to you, to do a good office,
master parson.
Eva. Fery well : What is it ?
Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman,
'Head.
who belike, having received wrong by some person,
is at most odds with his own gravity and patience,
that ever you saw.
Shal. I have lived fourscore years and upwards ;
I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and
learning, so wide of his own respect.
Eva. What is he ?
Page. I think you know him ; master doctor
Caius, the renowned French physician.
Eva. I had as lief you would tell me of a mess
of porridge.
Page. Why?
Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates
and Galen, and he is a knave besides; a cowardly
knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal.
Page. I warrant you he's the man should fight with
him.
Slen. O, sweet Anne Page !
Shal. It appears so, by his weapons : Keep
them asunder ; here comes doctor Caius.
Enter Host, CAIUS, and RUGBY.
Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your
weapon.
Shal. So do you, good master doctor.
Host. Disarm them, and let them question : let
them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.
Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your
ear : Verefore vill you not meet a-me ?
Eva. Pray you, use your patience : In good time.
Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog,
John ape.
Eva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to
other men's humours ; I desire you in friendship,
and I will one way or other make you amends :
and I will knog your knave's cogscomb, for missing
your meetings and appointments.
Caius. Diable ! Jack Rugby, mine Host de
Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him ? have
I not, at de place I did appoint ?
Eva. As I am a Christians soul, now, look you,
this is the place appointed ; I'll be judgment by
mine host of the G arter.
Host. Peace, I say, Guallia, and Gaul, French
and Welsh ; soul-curer and body-curer.
Caius. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent !
Host. Peace, I say ; hear mine host of the Garter.
Am I politick ? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel ?
Shall I lose my doctor ? no ; he gives me the po-
tions. Shall I lose my parson ? my priest ? my sir
Hugh ? no ; he gives me the proverbs and the no-
verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so : Give
me thy hand, celestial ; so. Boys of art, 1 have
deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong
places : your hearts are mighty, your skins are
whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. Come
SCENE II.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
51
lay their swords to pawn : Follow me, lad of
peace ; follow, follow, follow.
Mat. Trust me, a mad host : Follow, gentle-
men, follow.
Slen. O, sweet Anne Page !
[Exeunt SHAL. SLEN. PAGE, and Host.
Caius. Ha ! do I perceive dat ? have you make-a
de sot of us ? ha, ha !
Eva. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting-
sto-. I desire you, that we may be friends ; and
let us knog our prains together, to be revenge on
this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the
host of the Garter.
Caius. By gar, vit all my heart : he promise to bring
me vere is Anne Page : by gar, he deceive me too.
Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles : Pray you,
follow. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Street in Windsor.
Enter Mistress PAGE and ROBIN.
Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ;
you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a
leader : Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes,
or eye your master's heels ?
Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like
a man, than follow him like a dwarf.
Mrs. Page. O you are a flattering boy ; now, I
see, you'll be a courtier.
Enter FORD.
Ford. Well met, mistress Page: Whither go you?
Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to sec your wife : Is she
at home?
Ford. Ay ; and as idle as she may hang together,
for want of company : I think if your husbands
\vc-ro dead, you two would marry.
Mrs. J'lt'^i-. Be sure of that, two other husbands.
Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock ?
Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what his name is my
husband had him of: What do you call your
knight's name, sirrah ?
Rob. Sir John Falstaff.
Ford. Sir John Falstaff!
Mrs. Page. He, he ; I can never hit on's name.
There is such a league between my good man and
he ! Is your wife at home, indeed ?
Ford. Indeed, she is.
Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir ; I am sick, till
I see her. [Exeunt Mrs. PAGE and ROBIN.
Ford. Has Page any brains ? hath he any eyes ;
hath he any thinking ? Sure they sleep ; he hath no
use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty
miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank
twelve score. He pieces-out his wife's inclination ;
he- <rives her folly motion, and advantage : and now
slu s going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her.
A man may hear this shower sing in the wind !
and Falstaff's boy with her ! Good plots ! they
are laid ; and our revolted wives share damnation
together. Well ; I will take him, then torture my
wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the
so seeming mistress Page, divulge Page himself for
a secure and wilful Actwon ; and to these violent
proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim. 4 [Clock
strikes.] The clock gives me my cue, and my as-
surumv bids me search; there I shall find Falstaff:
ill be rather praised for this than mocked ; for
it is as positive as the earth is firm, that Falstaff is
there : I will go.
Shall encourage.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, SLENDER, Host, Sir HUGH
EVANS, CAIUS, and RUGBY.
Shal. Page, &c. Well met, master Ford.
Ford. Trust me, a good knot : I have good cheer
at home ; and I pray you, all go with me.
S/ial. I must excuse myself, master Ford.
Slen. And so must I, sir ; we have appointed to
dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break
with her for more money than I'll speak of.
Shal. We have lingered about a match between
Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day
we shall have our answer.
Slen. I hope I have your good-will, father Page.
Page. You have, master Slender ; I stand wholly
for you : but my wife, master doctor, is for you
altogether,
Caius. Ay, by gar ; and de maid is love-a me ;
my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush.
Host. What say you to young master Fenton ?
he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he
writes verses, he speaks holyday 5 ; he smells April
and May : he will carry't, he will carry't.
Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The
gentleman is of no having : he kept company with
the wild Prince and Poins ; he is of too high a
region, he knows too much. No, he shall not
knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my
substance : if he take her, let him take her simply ;
the wealth I have, waits on my consent, and my
consent goes not that way.
Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go
home with me to dinner : besides your cheer, you
shall have sport ; I will show you a monster.
Master doctor, you shall go ; so shall you, master
Page; and you, sir Hugh.
Shal. Well, fare you well : we shall have the
freer wooing at master Page's.
[Exeunt SHALLOW and SLENDER.
Caius. Go home, John Rugby ; I come anon.
[Exit RUGBY.
Host. Farewell, my hearts : I will to my honest
knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him.
[Exit Host.
Ford. [Aside.] I think, I shall drink in pipe-wine
first with him ; I'll make him dance. Will you go,
gentles ?
All. Have with you, to see this monster. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in Ford's House.
Enter Mrs. FORD and Mrs. PAGE.
Mrs. Ford. What, John ! what, Robert !
Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the buck
ket
Hfrs. Ford. I warrant : What, Robin, I say.
Enter Servants u-i/A a basket.
Mrs. Page. Come, come, come.
Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down.
Mm. Page. Give your men the charge ; we must
be brief.
Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John
and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brc-w-
house ; and when I suddenly call you, come forth,
and (without any pause, or staggering,) take this
basket on your shoulders : that done trudge with
it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in
Out of the common style
E 2
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT III.
Datchet-mcad, and there empty it in the muddy
ditch, close by the Thames' side.
Mrs. Page. You will do it?
Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over ; they
lack no direction : Begone, and come when you
are called. [Exeunt Servants.
Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin.
Enter ROBIN.
Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musket ? 6 what
news with you ?
Rob. My master sir John is come in at your back-
door, mistress Ford ; and requests your company.
Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-lent 7, have you
been true to us ?
Rob. Ay, I'll be sworn : My master knows not
of your being here ; and hath threatened to put me
into everlasting liberty, if I tell you of it ; for, he
swears, he'll turn me away.
Mrs. Page. Thou'rt a good boy ; this secrecy of
thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee
a new doublet and hose. I'll go hide me.
Mrs. Ford. Do so : Go tell thy master, I am
alone. Mistress Page, remember you your cue.
[Exit ROBIN.
Mrs. Page. I warrant thee ; if I do not act it,
hiss me. [Exit Mrs. PAGE.
Mrs. Ford. Go to then ; we'll use this gross
watery pumpion j we'll teach him to know turtles
from jays.
Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel !
Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough :
this is the period of my ambition : O this blessed
hour!
Mrs. Ford. O sweet sir John !
Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate,
mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish : I would
thy husband were dead ; I'll speak it before the
best lord, I would make thee my lady.
Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John ! alas, I should
be a pitiful lady.
Fal. Let the court of France show me such an-
other : I see how thine eye would emulate the dia-
mond : Thou hast the right arched bent of the brow,
that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any
tire of Venetian admittance.
-Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, sir John : my brows
become nothing else ; nor that well neither.
Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so : thou would'st
make an absolute courtier : and the firm fixture of
thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait,
in a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou wert,
if fortune thy foe were not ; nature is thy friend :
Come, thou canst not hide it.
Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing in
me.
Fal. What made me love thee ? let that persuade
thee, there's something extraordinary in thee.
Come, I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and
that, like a many of these lisping haw-thorn buds,
that come like women in men's apparel, and smell
like Bucklers-bury 8 in simple-time ; I cannot : but
I love thee ; none but thee ; and thou deservest it.
Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir j I fear, you
love mistress Page.
fi A young small hawk.
" A puppet thrown at in Lent, like sh rove-cocks.
8 Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists.
Fal. Thou might'st as well say, I love to walk
by the Counter-gate ; which is as hateful to me as
the reek of a lime-kiln.
Mrs. Ford. Well heaven knows, how I love you ;
and you shall one day find it.
Fal. Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it.
Mrs Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do ; or
else I could not be in that mind.'
Rob. [within.] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford !
here's mistress Page at the door, sweating, and
blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs speak
with you presently.
Fal. She shall not see me ; I will ensconce 9 me
behind the arras.
Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so ; she's a very tat-
tling woman. [FALSTAFF hides hims^f.
Enter Mrs. PAGE and ROBIN.
What's the matter ? how now ?
Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you
done ? You're shamed, you are overthrown, you
are undone for ever.
Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mistress
Page?
Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, mistress Ford ! having
an honest man to your husband, to give him such
cause of suspicion !
Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion ?
Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion ! Out
upon you ! how am I mistook in you ?
Mrs. Ford. Why, alas ! what's the matter ?
Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, wo-
man, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for
a gentleman, that, he says, is here, now in the
house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of
his absence : you are undone.
Mrs. Ford. Speak louder, [Aside.] 'Tis not
so, I hope.
Mrs. Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you
have such a man here ; but 'tis most certain your
husband's coming with half Windsor at his heels,
to search for such a one. I come before to tell
you : If you know yourself clear, why I am glad of
it : but if you have a friend here, convey, convey
him out. Be not amazed ; call all your senses to
you : defend your reputation, or bid farewell to
your good life for ever.
Mrs. Ford. What shall I do ? There is a gen-
tleman, my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own
shame, so much as his peril : I had rather than a
thousand pound, he were out of the house.
Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had
rather, and you had rather; your husband's here
at hand, bethink you of some conveyance : in the
house you cannot hide him. O, how have you
deceived me ! Look, here is a basket : if he be
of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here ;
and throw foul linen upon him, as if it were going
to bucking : Or, it is whiting-time ', send him by
your two men to Datchet-mead.
Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there : What
shall I do ?
Re-enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. Let me see't ! let me see't ! O let me see't !
I'll in, I'll in ; follow your friend's counsel ;
I'll in.
Mrs. Page. What! sir John Falstaff ! Are these
your letters, knight ?
9 Hide. i Bleaching time.
SCENE IV.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
Fal. I love thee, and none but thee ; h
away : let me creep in here ; I'll never
;lp me
[He goes into the basket ; they cover him
with
He
foul linen.
fp to cover your master,
you
Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy :
Call your men, mistress Ford : You dissembling
knight.
Mrs Ford. What, John, Robert, John ! [Exit
ROBIN ; Re-enter Servants.] Go, take up these
clothes here, quickly; Where's the cowl-staff?*
look, how you drumble 3 ; carry them to the laun-
ilivss in Dutchet-mead j quickly, come.
Enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and Sir HUGH EVANS.
Ford. Pray you, come near : if I suspect without
cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be
your jest ; I deserve it. How now ? whither bear
you this ?
Sen). To the laundress, forsooth.
Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither
they bear it ? You were best meddle with buck-
washing.
Ford. Buck ? I would I could wash myself of
the buck ! Buck, buck, buck ? Ay, buck ; I war-
rant you, buck ; and of the season too, it shall ap-
pear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentle-
men, I have dreamed to-night: I'll tell you my
(In am. Here, here, here be my keys : ascend my
chambers, search, seek, find out : I'll warrant we'll
unkennel the fox : Let me stop this way first : _
So now uncape. 4
Page. Good master Ford, be contented:
wrong yourself too much.
Ford. True, master Page. Up, gentlemen; you
shall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. [Exit.
Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and jea-
lousies.
Cains. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France : it is
not jealous in France.
/ V<'- Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue
of his search. {Exeunt EVANS, PAGE, and CAIUS.
Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in
this ?
Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better,
that my husband is deceived, or sir John.
Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in, when your
husband asked who was in the basket?
Mrs. Ford. Throwing him into the water will do
him a benefit.
Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal ! I would,
all of die same strain were in the same distress.
Mrs. Foi-d. I think my husband hath some spe-
nal suspicion of FalstafTs being here; for I never
saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.
Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that : And we
will yet have more tricks with Falstaff : his dissolute
disease will scarce obey this medicine.
Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion,
mist,vss Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing
into tlu- water; and give him another hope, to
Mtaay him to another punishment?
Mrs. Page. We'll do it ; let him be sent for to-
morrow eight o'clock, to have amends.
Re-enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and Sir HUGH EVANS.
I cannot find him : may be the knave
bragged of that he could not compass.
* Untfag thcfo r r '" 8 a larg
53
Mrs. Page. Heard you that ?
Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace : You use me well,
master Ford, do you ?
Ford. Ay, I do so.
Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your
thoughts !
Ford. Amen.
Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, mas-
ter Ford.
Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it.
Eva. If there be any pody in the house, and in
the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses,
heaven forgive my sins !
Caius. By gar, nor I too ; dere is no bodies.
Page. Fie, fie, master Ford! are you not ashamed?
What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination ?
I would not have your distemper in this kind, for
the wealth of Windsor Castle.
Ford. 'Tis my fault, master Page : I suffer for it.
Eva. You suffer for a pad conscience ; your wife
is as honest a 'omans, as I will desires among five
thousand, and five hundred too.
Caius. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman.
Ford. Well ; I promised you a dinner :
Come, come, walk in the park : I pray you, pardon
me ; I will hereafter make known to you, why I
have done this. Come, wife ; come mistress
Page : I pray you pardon me ; pray heartily, par-
don me.
Page. Let's go in, gentlemen ; but, trust me,
we'll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morn-
ing to my house to breakfast ; after, we'll a birding
together ; I have a fine hawk for the bush : Shall it
be so?
Ford. Any thing.
Eva. If there is one, I shall make two in the
company.
Ford. Pray you go, master Page.
Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow
on the knave, mine host.
Caius. Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart.
Eva. A knave ; to have Ids gibes and his mock-
eries - [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. ^ Room in Page's House.
Enter FENTON, and Mistress ANNE PAGE.
Pent. I see, I cannot get thy father's love ;
Therefore, no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.
Anne. Alas ! how then ?
Fen. Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object, I am too great of birth ;
And that, my state being gall'd with my expemv,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth :
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,
My riots past, my wild societies ;
And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible
I should love thee, but as a property.
Anne. May be, he tells you true.
Pent. No, heaven so speed me in my time to
come !
Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne :
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold, or sums in scaled bags ;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.
Anne. Gentle master Fenton,
Yet seek my father's love : still seek it, bir :
E 3
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT III.
If opportunity and humblest suit.
Cannot attain it, why then. Hark you hither.
[They converse apart.
Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and Mrs- QUICKLY.
Shal. Break their talk, Mrs. Quickly ; my kins-
man shall speak for himself.
Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't 4 : slid, 'tis
but venturing.
Skal. Be not dismay'd.
Slen. No, she shall not dismay me : I care not-
for that, but that I am afeard.
Quick. Hark ye ; master Slender would speak a
word with you.
Anne. I come to him. This is my father's
choice.
O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year !
[Aside.
Quick. And how does good master Fenton? Pray
you, a word with you.
S/ial. She's coming ; to her, coz. O boy, thou
hadst a father.
Slen. I had a father, mistress Anne ; my uncle
can tell you good jests of him : Pray you, uncle,
tell mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole
two geese out of a pen, good uncle.
Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.
Slen. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman
in Glocestershire.
Shal. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman.
Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail,
under the degree of a 'squire.
57m/. He will make you a hundred and fifty
pounds jointure.
Anne. Good master Shallow, let him woo for
himself.
Shal. Marry, I thank you for it ; I thank you for
that good comfort. She calls you, coz : I'll leave
you.
Anne. Now, master Slender.
Sfcn. Now, good mistress Anne.
Anne. What is your will.
Slen. My will? od's heartlings, that's a pretty
jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank
heaven ; I am not such a sickly creature, I give
heaven praise.
Anne. I mean, master Slender, what would you
with me ?
Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would little or
nothing with you : Your father, and my uncle, have
made motions : if it be my luck, so : if not, happy
man be his dole ! 5 They can tell you how things
go, better than I can : You may ask your father ;
here he comes.
Enter PAGE, and Mistress PAGE.
Page. Now, master Slender : Love him, daugh-
ter Anne.
Why, how now ! what does master Fenton here ?
You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house :
I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of.
Pent. Nay, master Page, be not impatient.
Mrs. Page. Good master Fenton, come not to
my child.
Page. She is no match for you.
Fent . Sir, will you hear me ?
Page. No, good master Fenton.
4 A proverb i
short one.
shaft was a long arrow, and a holt a thick
'Lot.
Come, master Shallow : come, son Slender ; in :
Knowing my mind, you wrong me, master Fenton.
[Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.
Quick. Speak to mistress Page.
Fent. Good mistress Page, for that I love your
daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,
I must advance the colours of my love,
And not retire : Let me have your good will.
Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond*
fool.
Mrs. Page. I mean it not ; I seek you a better
husband.
Quick. That's my master, master doctor.
Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth,
And bowl'd to death with turnips.
Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself: Good
master Fenton.
I will not be your friend, nor enemy :
My daughter will I question how she loves you,
And as I find her, so am I affected ;
'Till then, farewell sir : : She must needs go in ;
Her father will be angry.
[Exeunt Mrs. PAGE and ANNE.
Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress ; farewell, Nan.
Quick. This is my doing now ; Nay, said I,
will you cast away your child on a fool, and a
physician ? Look on master Fenton : this is my
doing.
Fent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to-
night
Give my sweet Nan this ring : There's for thy pains.
[Exit.
Quick. Now heaven send thee good fortune ! A
kind heart he hath : a woman would run through
fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet, I
would my master had mistress Anne ; or I would
master -Slender had her; or, in sooth, I would
master Fenton had her : I will do what I can for
them all three ; for so I have promised, and I'll be
as good as my word ; but speciously 6 for master
Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to sir
John Falstaff from my two mistresses: What a
beast am I to slack ? it. [Exit.
SCENE V. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.
Fal. Bardolph, I say,
Bard. Here, sir.
Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast
in't. [Exit BARD.] Have I lived to be carried in
a basket, like a barrow of butcher's ofTal ? and to
be thrown into the Thames ? Well ; if I be served
such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out,
and buttered, and give them to a dog for a new
year's gift. The rogues slighted me into the river
with as littlp remorse as they would have drowned
blind puppies, fifteen i' the litter : and you may
know by my size, that I have a kind of alacrity in
sinking ; if the bottom were ever so deep, I should
down. I had been drowned, but that the shore
was shelvy and shallow : a death that I abhor ; for
the water swells a man ; and what a thing should I
have been, when I had been swelled ! I should
have been a mountain of mummy.
6 Specially.
Neglect.
SCENE V.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
bb
Re-enter BARDOLPH, with the wine.
Hard. Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak witl
you.
Fal. Come, let me pour in some sack to the
Thames water ; for my inside's as cold, as if I hat
i ! lowed snow-balls. Call her in.
. Come in, woman.
Enter Mrs. QUICKLY.
Quick. By your leave ; I cry you mercy : Give
your worship good-morrow.
Fal. Take away these chalices : Go brew me a
pottle of sack finely. [Exit BARDOLPH.] How
now?
Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from
mistress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough: I
was thrown into the ford.
Quick. Alas the day ! good heart, that was not
her fault ; she does so take on with her men ; they
mistook their erection.
Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish wo-
man's promise.
Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would
yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this
morning a birding ; she desires you once more to
come to her between eight and nine : I must carry
her word quickly ; she'll make you amends, 1
warrant you.
Fal. Well, I will visit her: Tell her so; and bid
her think, what a man is : let her consider his
frailty, and then judge of my merit.
Quick. I will tell her.
Fed. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou?
Quick. Eight and nine, sir.
Fal. Well, be gone : I will not miss her.
Quick. Peace be with you, sir. [Exit.
Fal. I marvel, I hear not of master Brook ; he
sent me word to stay within : I like his money
well. O, here he comes.
Enter FORD.
Ford. Bless you, sir !
Fal. Now, master Brook? you come to know
what hath passed between me and Ford's wife ?
Ford. That, indeed, sir John, is my business.
Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; I was
at her house the hour she appointed me.
Ford. A nd how sped you , sir ?
Fal. Very ill-fa vou redly, master Brook.
Ford. How so, sir ? Did she change her deter-
mination ?
Fal. No, master Brook ; but the peaking cor-
nuto, her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a
continual 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the in-
stant of our encounter, after we had embraced,
ki cd, protested, and, as it were, spoke the pro-
logue of our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of
liis companions, tliither provoked and instigated by
lu's distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for
his wife's love.
Ford. What, while you were there ?
FaL While I was there.
Ford. And did he search for you, and could not
find you?
Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have
it, i omes in one mistress Page; gives intelligence
't' Ford's approach ; and, by her invention, and
Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a
buck-basket?
Ford. A buck-basket ?
Fal. Yea, a buck-basket : rammed me in with
foul shirts and socks, foul stockings, and greasy
napkins; that, master Brook, there was the rankest
compound of villainous smell, that ever offended
nostril.
Ford. And how long lay you there ?
Fal. Nay, you shall hear, master Brook, what I
have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your
good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple
of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were called forth by
their mistress, to carry me in the name of foul
clothes to Datchet-lane : they took me on their
shoulders ; met the jealous knave their master in
the door ; who asked them once or twice what they
had in their basket : I quaked for fear, lest the
lunatic knave would have searched it; but Fate,
ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his hand.
Well ; on went he for a search, and away went I
for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, master
Brook : I suffered the pangs of three several deaths:
first, an intolerable fright, to be detected with a
jealous bell-wether : next, to be compassed like a
good bilbo 8 , in the circumference of a peck, hilt to
point, heel to head: and then, to be stopped in,
like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes :
think of that, a man of my kidney, think of that ;
that am as subject to heat as butter ; a man of
continual dissolution and thaw ; it was a miracle to
'scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath,
when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a
Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and
cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-
shoe ; think of that ; hissing hot, think of that,
master Brook.
Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for
my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then
:s desperate ; you'll undertake her no more.
Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into Jitna,
as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her
Jius. Her husband is this morning gone a bird-
ng : I have received from her another embassy of
meeting ; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, master
Brook.
Ford. 'Tis past eight already, sir.
Fal. Is it? I will then address me to my appoint-
ment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and
'ou shall know how I speed ; and the conclusion
hall be crowned with your having her : Adieu.
You shall have her, master Brook ; master Brook,
you shall cuckold Ford. [Exit.
Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream?
do I sleep ? Master Ford, awake ; awake, master
Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, master
Ford. This 'tis to be married ! tin's 'tis to have
inen and buck-baskets ! Well, I will proclaim
myself what I am : I will now take the lecher ; he
s at my house : he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impos-
ible he should ; he cannot creep into a halfpenny
siirse, nor into a pepper-box: but, lest the de\il
hat guides him should aid him, I will search im-
>ossible places. Though what I am I cannot
void, yet to be what I would not, shall not make
me tame : if I have horns to make one mad, let the
>roverb go with me, I'll be horn mad. [Exit.
8 Bilboa, where the best blades arc made.
E 4
56
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT IV.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. _ A Room in Ford's House.
Enter FALSTAFF and Mrs- FORD.
Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up
my sufferance: I see you are obsequious in your
love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not
only, mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but
in all the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony
of it. But are you sure of your husband now ?
Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet sir John.
Mrs. Page. [Within.] What hoa, gossip Ford!
what hoa !
Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, sir John.
[Eait FALSTAFF.
Enter Mrs. PAGE.
Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart? who's at
home beside yourself?
Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed?
Mrs. Ford. No, certainly; speak louder. [Aside.
Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody
here.
Mrs. Ford. Why ?
Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in
his own lunes 9 again : he so takes on yonder with
my husband ; so rails against all married mankind ;
so curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion
soever ; and so buffets himself on the forehead, cry-
ing Peer out) peer out ! that any madness I ever
yet beheld seemed but tameness, civility, and pa-
tience, to this his distemper he is in now : I am
glad the fat knight is not here.
Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him?
Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and swears, he
was carried out, the last time he searched for him
in a basket : protests to my husband he is now
here ; and hath drawn him and the rest of their
company from their sport, to make another experi-
ment of his suspicion : but I am glad the knight is
not here ; now he shall see his own foolery.
Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page ?
Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at street end ; he will be
here anon.
Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! the knight is here.
Mrs. Page. Why, then you are utterly shamed,
and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you ?
Away with him, away with him ; better shame
than murder.
Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go? how
should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the
basket again?
Re-enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket : May
I not go out ere he come ?
Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's bro-
thers watch the door with pistols, that none shall
issue out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he
came. But what make you here ?
Fal. Whall shall I do ? I'll creep up into the
chimney.
Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge
their birding pieces : creep into the kiln hole.
Fal. Where is it?
Mad fits.
Mrs. Ford. He will seek there on my word.
Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but.
he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such
places, and goes to them by his note : There is no
hiding you in the house.
Fal. I'll go out then.
Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own sem-
blance, you die, sir John. Unless you go out dis-
guised.
Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him?
Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There
is no woman's gown big enough for him ; other-
wise, he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a ker-
chief, and so escape.
Fal. Good hearts, devise something : any extre-
mity rather than a mischief.
Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of
Brentford, has a gown above.
Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ;
she's as big as he is : and there's her thrum'd hat,
and her muffler too : Run up, sir John.
Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet sir John : mistress
Page and I will look some linen for your head.
Mrs. Page. Quick, quick; we'll come dress you
straight: put on the gown the while. [Exit FALSTAFF.
Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him
in this shape : he cannot abide the old woman of
Brentford ; he swears she's a witch : forbade her
my house, and hath threatened to beat her.
Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's
cudgel ; and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards !
Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming ?
Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks
of the basket, too, howsoever he hath had intelli-
gence.
Mrs. Ford. We'll try that ; for I'll appoint my
men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the
door with it, as they did last time.
Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently ;
let's go dress him like the witch of Brentford.
Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what they
shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen
for him straight. [Exit.
Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we can-
not misuse him enough.
We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too. [Exit.
Re-enter Mrs. FORD, with two servants.
Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on
your shoulders ; your master is hard at door ; if he
bid you set it down, obey him : quickly, dispatch.
[Exit.
1 Serv. Come, come, take it up.
2 Serv. Pray heaven, it be not full of the knight
again.
1 Serv. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much
lead.
Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and Sir
HUGH EVANS.
Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have
you any way then to unfool me again ? Set down
the basket, villain : Somebody call my wife
You, youth in a basket, come out here ! O, you
panderly rascals ! there's a knot, a gang, a pack, a
SCENE I.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
57
conspiracy against me : Now shall the devil be
shamed. What ! wife, I say ! come, come forth ;
behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleach-
ing.
Page. Why, this passes! Master Ford, you are not
to go loose any longer ; you must be pinioned.
Eva. Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad
dog!
Shed. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; in-
deed.
Enter Mrs. FORD.
Ford. So say I too, sir. Come hither, mistress
Ford ; mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest
wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool
to her husband ! I suspect without cause, mistress,
do I?
Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you
suspect me in any dishonesty.
Ford. Well said, brazen-face ; hold it out.
Come forth, sirrah.
[Pulls the clothes out of the basket.
Page. This passes !
Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed ? let the clothes
alone.
Ford. I shall find you anon.
Eva. 'Tis unreasonable ! Come away.
Ford. Empty the basket, I say.
Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why,
Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one
conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket :
Why may not he be there again ? In my house I am
sure he is : my intelligence is true ; my jealousy is
reasonable : Pluck me out all the linen.
Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die
;i fk-u's death.
Page. Here's no man.
Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford ;
this wrongs you.
Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not fol-
low the imaginations of your own heart : this is
jealousies.
Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for.
Page. No, nor no where else, but in your brain.
Ford. Help to search my house this one time :
if I find not what I seek, show no colour for my
extremity, let me for ever be your table-sport ; let
them say of me, As jealous as Ford, that searched a
hollow walnut for his wife's leman. ' Satisfy me once
more ; once more search with me.
Mrs. Ford. What hoa, mistress Page ! come you,
and the old woman down ; my husband will come
into the chamber.
Ford. Old woman ! What old woman's that ?
Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.
Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean !
Have I not forbid her my house? She comes of er-
rands does she? We are simple men ; we do not
know what's brought to pass under the profession
of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells,
by the figure, and such daubery as this is ; beyond
our element : we know nothing. Come down,
you witch, you hag you ; come down, I say.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband ; good
gentlemen, let him not strike the old woman.
Enter FALSTAFF in woman s clothes, led by Mrs.
PAGE.
I 'age. Come, mother Pratt, come, give me
your hand.
i Lover.
Ford. I'll prat her : out of my door, you
witch ! [beats him.'] you rag, you baggage, you
pole-cat, you ronyon ! * out ! out ! I'll ceujure you,
I'll fortune-tell you. [Exit FAL.
Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed ? I think you
have kill'd the poor woman.
Mrs. Ford, Nay, he will do it : 'Tis a goodly
credit for you.
Ford. Hang her, witch !
Eva. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is a witch
indeed : I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ;
I spy a great peard under her muffler.
Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech
you, follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy : if I
cry out thus upon no trail 3, never trust me when I
open again.
Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come, gentlemen.
[Exeunt PAGE, FORD, SHALLOW, and EVANS.
Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not ;
he beat him most unpitifully, methought.
Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallowed ; it hath
done meritorious service.
Mrs. Ford. What think you ? May we, with the
warrant of womanhood, and the witness of a good
conscience, pursue him with any further revenge ?
Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure,
scared out of him ; if the devil have him not in fee-
simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, 1
think, attempt us again.
Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we
have served him ?
Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means ; if it be but to
scrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If
they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous
fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will
still be the ministers.
Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him pub-
lickly shamed : and, methinks, there would be no
period to the jest, should he not be publickly
shamed.
Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape
it : I would not have things cool. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter Host and BARDOLPH.
Hard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of
your horses : the duke himself will be to-morrow at
court, and they are going to meet him.
Host. What duke should that be, comes so se-
cretly ? I hear not of him in the court : Let me
sneak with the gentlemen ; they speak English ?
Sard. Ay, sir ; I'll call them to you.
Host. They shall have my horses ; but I'll make
them pay, I'll sauce them : they have had my houses
a week at command ; I have turned away my other
guests : they must come off; I'll sauce them : Come.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in Ford'* House.
Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and
Sir HUGH EVANS.
Eva. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman
as ever I did look upon.
Page. And did he send you both these leUcrs at
an instant?
Scab.
58
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT IV.
Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour.
Ford. Pardon me, wife : Henceforth do what
tiioii wilt ;
I rather will suspect the sun with cold,
Than thee with wantonness : now doth thy honour
stand,
In him that was of late an heretick,
As firm as faith.
Page. "Tis well, 'tis well ; no more.
Be not as extreme in submission,
As in offence ;
But let our plot go forward : let our wives
Yet once again, to make us publick sport,
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it.
Ford. There is no better way than that they
spoke of.
Page. How ! to send him word they'll meet him
in the park at midnight ! fie, fie ! he'll never come.
Eva. You say, he has been thrown in the rivers ;
and has been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman :
methinks, there should be terrors in him, that he
should not come.
Page. So think I too.
Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when
he comes,
And let us two devise to bring him thither.
Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne
the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight,
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ;
And there he blasts the tree, and takes 4 the cattle ;
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a
chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner :
You have heard of such a spirit ; and well you know,
The superstitious idle-headed eld 5
Received, and did deliver to our age,
This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth.
Page. Why, yet there want not many, that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak :
But what of this?
Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ;
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us,
Disguis'd like Herne, with huge horns on his head.
Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape : When you have brought him
thither,
What shall be done with him ? what is your plot ?
Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought upon,
and thus :
Nan Page my daughter, and my little son,
And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress
Like urchins, ouphes 6 , and fairies, green and white,
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden,
As Falstaff 1 , she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once
With some diffused song ; upon their sight,
We two in great amazedness will fly :
Then let them all encircle him about,
And, fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight ;
And ask him, why, that hour of fairy-revel,
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread,
In shape prophane.
Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound,
And burn him with their tapers.
4 Strikes.
Old age.
Elf, hobgoblin.
Mrs. Page. The truth being known,
We'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit,
And mock him home to Windsor.
Ford. The children must
Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do't.
Eva. I will teach the children their behaviours ;
and I will be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the
knight with my taber.
Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them
vizards.
Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the
fairies,
Finely attired in a robe of white.
Page. That silk will I go buy ; and in that time
Shall master Slender steal my Nan away, [Aside.
And marry her at Eton. Go, send to FalstaiF
straight.
Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook :
He'll tell me all his purpose : Sure, he'll come.
Mrs. Page. Fear not you that : Go, get us pro-
perties,
And tricking for our fairies.
Eva. Let us about it : It is admirable pleasures,
and fery honest knaveries.
[Exeunt PAGE, FORD, and EVANS.
Mrs. Page. Go, mistress Ford,
Send quickly to sir John, to know his mind.
[Exit Mrs. FORD.
I'll to the doctor ; he hath my good will,
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page.
That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot ;
And he my husband best of all affects :
The doctor is well money'd, and his friends
Potent at court ; he, none but he, shall have her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her,
[Exit.
SCENE IV. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter Host and SIMPLE.
Host. What would'st thou have, boor? what,
thick-skin? speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short,
quick, snap.
Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir John
Falstaff from master Slender.
Host. There's his chamber, his house, his castle,
his standing-bed, and truckle-bed ; 'tis painted about
with the story of the prodigal, fresh and new : Go,
knock and call ; he'll speak like an Anthropopha-
ginian 7 unto thee : Knock, I say.
Sim. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone
up into his chamber ; I'll be so bold as stay, sir,
till she come down : I come to speak with her, in-
deed.
Host. Ha ! a fat woman ! the knight may be
robbed : I'll call. Bully knight ! Bully sir John !
speak from thy lungs military : Art thou there ? it
is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls.
Fal. [above.] How now, mine host?
Host. Here's a Bohemian- Tartar tarries the com-
ing down of thy fat woman : Let her descend, bully,
let her descend ; my chambers are honourable : Fye !
privacy ! fye !
Enter FALSTAFF.
Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat woman
even now with me ; but she's gone.
Sim. Pray you, sir, vvas't not the wise woman of
Brentford?
i A cannibal.
SCENE IV.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
59
Fed. Ay, marry, was it, muscle-shell ; What
would you with her ?
Sim. My master, sir, my master Slender, sent to
her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, sir,
\\ hcther one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain,
had the chain, or no.
Fal. I spake with the old woman about it.
Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir?
Fal. Marry, she says, that the very same man,
that beguiled master Slender of his chain, cozened
him of it.
Sim. I would, I could have spoken with the
woman herself; I had other things to have spoken
with her too, from him.
Fal. What are they ? let us know.
Host. Ay, come ; quick.
Sim. I may not conceal them, sir.
Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest.
Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about
mistress Anne Page ; to know, if it were my mas-
ter's fortune to have her, or no.
Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune.
Sim. What, sir?
Fal. To have her, or no: Go; say, the woman
told me so.
SY//t. May I be so bold to say so, sir ?
Fal. Ay, sir Tike ; who more bold ?
Sim. I thank your worship: I shall make my
master glad with these tidings. [Exit SIMPLE.
Host. Thou art clerkly 8 , thou art clerkly, sir
John. Was there a wise woman with thee ?
Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host ; one, that
hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before
in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither, but
\v;is paid for my learning.
Enter BARDOLPH.
Jiard. Out, alas, sir ! cozenage ! mere cozenage !
Host. Where be my horses ? speak well of them,
varletto.
It(trd. Run away with the cozeners : for so soon
as I came beyond Eton, they threw me off, from
behind one of them, in a slough of mire ; and set
spurs, and away, like three German devils, three
Doctor Faustuses.
//.!>/. They are gone but to meet the duke, vil-
lain : do not say, they be fled ; Germans are honest
men.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS.
Where is mine host ?
Host. What is the matter, sir ?
Eva. Have a care of your entertainments : there
is a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there is
three con /in gennans, that has cozened all the
Iuts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook,
of horses and money. I tell you for good-will, look
\ou . you are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting-
sto^s ; and 'tis not convenient you should be co-
pencil : Fare you well. [Exit.
Enter Doctor CAIUS.
Cains. Verc is mine Host de Jarterre ?
Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity, and
doubtful dilemma.
Citius. 1 cannot tell vat is dat : but it istell-a me,
dat you make grand preparation for a duke dc Jar-
inanif : by my trot, del e is no duke, dat the court
is know to come; I tell you for good \ ill : Adieu.
[Exit.
* Scholar like.
Host. Hue and cry, villain, go : assist me,
knight ; I am undone : fly, run, hue and cry,
villain ! I am undone !
[Exeunt Host and BARDOLPH.
Fal. I would, all the world might be cozened ;
for I have been cozened and beaten too. If it
should come to the ear of the court, how I have
been transfonned, and how my transformation hath
been washed and cudgeled, they would melt me
out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's
boots with me ; I warrant, they would whip me
with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a
dried pear. I never prospered since I foreswore
myself at Primero. 9 Well, if my wind were but
long enough to say my prayers, I would repent.
Enter Mrs. QUICKLY.
Now ! whence come you ?
Quick. From the two parties, forsooth.
Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam the
other, and so they shall be both bestowed ! I have
suffered more for their sakes, more, than the vil-
lainous inconstancy of man's disposition is able to
bear.
Quick. And have not they suffered ? Yes, I war-
rant ; speciously one of them : mistress Ford, good
heart, is beaten black and blue, that you cannot
see a white spot about her.
Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and blue ? I
was beaten myself into all the colours of the rain-
bow, and I was like to be apprehended for the
witch of Brentford ; but that my admirable dex-
terity of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an
old woman, deliver'd me, the knave constable had
set me i' the stocks, i' the common stocks, for a
witch.
Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your cham-
ber : you shall hear how things go ; and, I warrant,
to your content. Here is a letter will say some-
what. Good hearts, what ado here is to bring you
together ! Sure one of you does not serve heaven
well, that you are so crossed.
Fal. Come up into my chamber. '[Exeunt.
SCENE V. Another Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FENTON and Host.
Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me ; my mind
is heavy, I will give over all.
Pent. Yet hear me speak : Assist me in my pur-
pose,
And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee
A hundred pound in gold, more than your loss.
Host. I will hear you, master Fenton ; and I will,
at the least, keep your counsel.
Pent. From time to time I have acquainted you
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ;
Who, mutually, hath answered my affection
(So far forth as herself might be her chooser),
Even to my wish : I have a letter from her
Of such contents as you will wonder at ;
The mirth whereof so larded with my matter,
That neither, singly, can be manifested,
Without the show of both ; wherein fat Falsull
Hath a great scene : the image of the jest
[Shoning the fitter
I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host
To-night at Hernc's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one.
A game at cards.
60
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT V.
Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen ;
The purpose why, is here ; in which disguise,
While other jests are something rank on foot,
Her father hath commanded her to slip
Away with Slender, and with him at Eton
Immediately to marry : she hath consented :
Now, sir,
Her mother, ever strong against that match,
And firm for doctor Caius, hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away,
While other sports are tasking of their minds,
And at the deanery, where a priest attends,
Straight marry her : to this her mother's plot
She, seemingly ohcdient, likewise hath
Made promise to the doctor ; Now, thus it rests ;
Her father means she shall be all in white ;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her go,
She shall go with him : her mother hath intended,
The better to denote her to the doctor
( For they must all be mask'd and vizarded),
That, quaint in green, she shall be loose enrob'd,
With ribands pendant, flaring 'bout her head ;
And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token,
The maid hath given consent to go with him.
Host. Which means she to deceive ? father or
mother ?
Pent. Both, my good host, to go along with me :
And here it pests, that you'll procure the vicar
To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one,
And, in the lawful name of marrying,
To give our hearts united ceremony.
Host. Well, husband your device; I'll to the
vicar :
Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest.
Pent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ;
Besides, I'll make a present recompense. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. A Room in the Garter Inn.
Enter FALSTAFF and Mrs. QUICKLY.
Fal. Pr'ythee, no more prattling ; go. I'll
hold ' : This is the third time ; I hope, good luck
lies in odd numbers. Away, go ; they say, there is
divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance,
or death. Away.
Quick. I'll provide you a chain ; and I'll do what
I can to get you a pair of horns.
Fal. Away, I say ; time wears : hold up your
head, and mince. [Exit Mrs. QUICKLY.
Enter FORD.
How now, master Brook? master Brook, the mat-
ter will be known to-night, or never. Be you in
the Park about midnight, at Herne's oak, and you
shall see wonders.
Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you
told me you had appointed ?
Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see,
like i poor old man : but I came from her, master
Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave,
Ford, her husband, hath the finest mad devil of
jealousy in him, master Brook, that ever governed
frenzy. I will tell you. He beat me grievously,
in the shape of a woman ; for in the shape of man,
master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's
beam ; because I know also, life is a shuttle. I am
in haste; go along with me ; I'll tell you all, master
Brook. Since I plucked geese, played truant, and
whipped top, I knew not what it was to be beaten,
till lately. Follow me : I'll tell you strange things
of this knave Ford : on whom to-night I will be
revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand.
Follow : Strange things in hand, master Brook !
follow. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Windsor Park.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.
Page. Come, come ; we'll couch i' the castle-
ditch, till we see the light of our fairies. Re-
member, son Slender, my daughter.
1 Keep to the time.
Slen. Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with her, and
we have a nay- word 2 , how to know one another. I
come to her in white, and cry mum; she cries
budget ; and by that we know one another.
Shal. That's good too : But what needs either
your mum or her budget ? the white will decipher
her well enough. It hath struck ten o' clock.
Page. The night is dark ; light and spirits will
become it well. Heaven prosper our sport ! No
man means evil but the devil, and we shall know
him by his horns. Let's away ; follow me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Street in Windsor.
Enter Mrs. PAGE, Mrs. FORD, and Dr. CAIUS.
Mrs- Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in
green : when you see your time, take her by the
hand, away with her to the deanery, and despatch
it quickly : Go before into the park ; we two must
go together.
Caius. I know vat I have to do ; Adieu.
Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit CAIUS.]
My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse
of FalstafF, as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying
my daughter : but 'tis no matter ; better a little
chiding, than a great deal of heart-break.
Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop
of fairies ? and the Welsh devil, Hugh ?
Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard
by Herne's oak, with obscured lights : which at the
very instant of FalstafF's and our meeting, they will
at once display to the night.
Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.
Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will be
mocked ; if he be amazed, he will every way be
mocked.
Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely.
Mrs. Page. Those who betray him do no treach-
ery.
Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on ; To the oak, to
the oak! [Exeunt.
2 Watch-word.
SCENE IV.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
SCENE IV. Windsor Park.
Enter Sir HUGH EVANS, and Fairies.
Eva. Trib, trib, fairies ; come ; and remember
your parts : be pold, I pray you ; follow me into
tin- pit : and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I
p'ul you ; Come, come ; trib, trib. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. Another Part of the Park.
I-'nter FALSTAFF disguised, with a buck's head on.
Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the
minute draws on: Now, love assist me: Re-
member, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa;
love set on thy horns. O powerful love ! For
me, I am here a Windsor stag ; and the fattest, I
think, i' the forest : Who comes here? my doe?
Enter Mrs. FORD and Mrs. PAGE.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my deer ?
my male deer ?
Fal. My doe? Let the sky rain potatoes; let
it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves; hail kissing-
comfits, and snow eringoes ; I will shelter me here.
[Embracing her.
Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me,
sweet-heart.
Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch :
I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the
fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your
husbands. Am I a woodman? ha! Speak 1 like
Herne the hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of
conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am a true
spirit, welcome. [Noise within.
Mrs. Page. Alas ! what noise ?
Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins !
Fal. What should this be?
Fal. I think, the devil will not have me; he
would never else cross me thus.
loiter Sir HUGH EVANS, like a satyr; Mrs. QUICKLY
and PISTOL; ANNE PAGE, as tlie Fairy Queen, at-
tended by her brother and others, dressed like fairies,
uith waxen tapers on their heads.
Quick. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night,
You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,
Attend your office, and your quality. -
Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes.
Pitt. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.
Cricket, to Windsor chimnies shall thou leap :
Wl icre fires thou fmd'stunrak'd,and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry :
Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery.
Fal. They are fairies ; he, that speaks to them,
shall die :
I'll wink and couch : No man their works must eye.
[Lies down upon his face.
Eva. Where's Pede 9 Go you, and where you
find a maid,
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,
i p the organs of her fantasy,
SU-c-j) sin.' as sound as careless infancy :
But those as sleep, and think not on their sins,
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and
bins.
Quick. About, about ;
Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out :
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room ;
That it may stand till the perpetual doom,
In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit ;
Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
The several chairs of order look you scour
With juice of balm, and every precious flower ;
Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,
With royal blazon,. evermore be blest!
And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring :
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ;
And, Hony soit qui mal y pense, write,
In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white ;
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee :
Fairies use flowers for their charactery,
Away ; disperse : But, till 'tis one o'clock,
Our dance of custom, round about the oak
Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.
Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand ; yourselves
in order set :
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,
To guide our measure round about the tree.
But, stay ; I smell a man of middle earth.
Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy !
lest he transform me to a piece of cheese !
Pist. Vile worm thou wast o'erlooked even in
thy birth.
Quick. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end :
If he be chaste, the flame will back descend,
And turn him to no pain ; but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.
2>ist. A trial, come.
Eva. Come, will this wood take fire ?
[They burn him with their tapers.
Fal. Oh, oh, oh !
Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire !
About him fairies ; sing a scornful rhyme :
And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
Eva. It is right ; indeed he is full of iniquity.
SONG.
Fye on sinful fantasy I
Fye on lust and luxury !
Lust is but a bloody fire,
Kindled uith unchaste desire,
Fed in heart ; trhosejlamcs aspire,
As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
Pinch him, fairies, mutually ;
Pinch him for his villainy ;
Pinch him, and burn him, and turn liim about,
Till candles, and starlight, and moonshine be cut.
[During this song, the fairies pinch Falstafl'. Dw-t<>r
Cains comes one u<ay, and steals away a fairy in
green ; Slender another way, and takes off" a fairy
in white; and Fenton comes, and steals away
Mrs. Anne Page. A noise of hunting i made
within. All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls
of his buck's head, and rises.]
Enter PAGE, FORD, Mrs. PACE, and Mrs. FORD.
They lay hold on him.
Page. Nay, do not fly ; I think we have watch'd
you now ;
Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn ?
Mrs. Page. I pray you, come ; hold up the jest
no higher :
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
ACT V.
Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives ?
See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes 3
Become the forest better than the town ?
Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now ? Master
Brook, FalstafF's a knave, a cuckoldly knave ; here
are his horns, master Brook: And, master Brook,
he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-
basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money ;
which must be paid to master Brook j his horses
are arrested for it, master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck : we
could never meet. I will never take you for my
love again, but I will always count you my deer.
Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; both the proofs are
extant.
Fal. And these are not fairies ? I was three or
four times in the thought, they were not fairies : and
yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise
of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery
into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all
rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See
now, how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis
upon ill employment !
Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your
desires, and fairies will not pinse you.
Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.
Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray
you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till
thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried
it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-
reaching as this ? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat
too ? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize ? 4 'tis time I
were choked with a piece of toasted cheese.
Eva. Seese is not good to give putter ; your
pelly is all putter.
Fal. Seese and putter ! Have I lived to stand at
the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ?
This is enough to be the decay of late-walking,
through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though
we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by
the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves
without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could
have made you our delight ?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax ?
Mrs. Page. A puffed man ?
Page. Old, and withered ?
Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ?
Page. And as poor as Job.
Ford. And as wicked as his wife ?
Eva. And given to taverns, and sack, and wine,
and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings,
and starings, pribbles and prabbles ?
Fal. Well, I am your theme : you have the start
of me : I am dejected ; I am not able to answer the
Welsh flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er
me : use me as you will.
Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to
one master Brook, that you have cozened of money,
to whom you should have been a pander : over and
above that you have suffered, I think to repay that
money will be a biting affliction.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make
amends ;
Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends.
3 Horns which Falstaffhad.
4 A fool's cap of Welsh materials.
Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last.
Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : thou shalt eat a
posset to-night at my house ; where I will desire thee
to laugh at my wife that now laughs at thee : Tell
her, master Slender hath married her daughter.
Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that : If Anne Page
be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius's wife.
[Aside.
Enter SLENDER.
Slen. Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page !
Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you
despatched ?
Slen. Despatched I'll make the best in Glo-
cestershire know on't ; would I were hanged, la,
else.
Page. Of what, son ?
Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress
Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy : If it
had not been i' the church, I would have swinged
him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not
think it had been Anne Page, would I might never
stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.
Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong.
Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so,
when I took a boy for a girl : If I had been married
to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would
not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I
tell you, how you should know my daughter by her
garments ?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, and
she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed ;
and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.
Eva. Master Slender, cannot you see but marry
boys?
Page. O, I am vexed at heart : What shall I do ?
Mrs- Page. Good George, be not angry : I knew
of your purpose ; turned my daughter into green ;
and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the
deanery, and there married.
Enter CAIUS.
Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am
cozened; I ha' married un gar$on, a boy ; unpaisan,
by gar, a boy ; it is not Anne Page : by gar, I am
cozened.
Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green ?
Caius. Ay, by gar, and 'tis a boy : by gar, I'll
raise all Windsor. [Exit CAIUS.
Ford. This is strange : Who hath got the right
Anne?
Page. My heart misgives me : Here comes
Fenton.
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE.
How now, master Fenton ?
Anne. Pardon, good father ! good my mother,
pardon !
Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you Avent not
with master Slender ?
Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor,
maid?
Fent. You do amaze her : Hear the truth of it.
You would have married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in love.
The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,
Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us.
The offence is holy, that she hath committed :
And this deceit loses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or unduteous title ;
SCENE V.
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
Since therein she doth cvitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed hours,
Which forced marriage would have brought upon
her.
Ford- Stand not amaz'd : here is no remedy :
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state;
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
Fed' I am glad, though you have ta'en a special
stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.
Page. Well, what remedy ? Fenton, heaven give
thee joy !
What cannot be eschew 'd must be embrac'd.
Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer arc
chas'd.
Eva I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.
Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :
Master Fenton,
Heaven give you many, many merry days !
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.
Ford. Let it be so : Sir John,
To master Brook you yet shall hold your word ;
For he, to-night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. [Exeunt.
TWELFTH NIGHT:
OR,
WHAT YOU WILL.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.
Si HAM-IAN, a young Gentleman, Brotlier to Viola.
ANTONIO, a Sea-Captain, Friend to Sebastian.
A SEA- CAPTAIN, Friend to Viola.
VALENTINE, ^ ~
CURIO, J Gentlemen attending on the Duke.
SIR TOBY BELCH, Uncle of Olivia.
SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia.
FABIAN,
CLOWN,
Servants to Olivia.
OLIVIA, a nch Countess.
VIOLA, in love with the Duke.
MARIA, Olivia's woman.
Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other
Attendants.
SCENE, a city in Illyria ; and the Sea- Coast near it.
TWELFTH NIGHT
OR,
WHAT YOU WILL.
ACT I.
SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's palace.
Enter Duke, CURIO, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke If musick be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again ; it had a dying fall :
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough ; no more ,
'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou !
That notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high-fantastical.
Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?
Duke. What, Curio?
Cur. The hart.
Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I hare :
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence ;
That instant was I turned into a hart ;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me. How now? what news
from her?
Enter VALENTINE
Vol. So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her handmaid do return this answer :
The element itself, till seven years' heat,
Shall not behold her face at ample view ;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye offending brine : all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh,
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft,
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her ! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd
(Her sweet perfections) with one self king !
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Sea Coast.
Enter VIOLA, Captain, and Sailors.
Via. What country, friends, is this ?
Cup. Illyria,
Vio. And what should I do in IHyria?
ACT I. SCENE II. TWELFTH NIGHT : OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
65
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance, he is not drown'd : What think you,
sailors ?
Cap. It is perchance, that you yourself were
saved.
Vio. O my poor brother ! and so., perchance,
may he be.
Cap. True, madam : and to comfort you with
chance,
Assure yourself, after our ship did split,
When you, and that poor number saved with you,
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother,
Most provident in peril, bind himself
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice)
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea ;
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back,
I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves,
So long as I could see.
Vio. For saying so, there's gold :
Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope,
Whereto thy speech serves for authority,
The like of him. Know'st thou this country ?
Cap. Ay, madam, well ; for I was bred and born,
Not three hours' travel from this very place.
Vio. Who governs here ?
Cap. A noble duke, in nature,
As in his name.
Vio. What is his name ?
Cap. Orsino.
Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him !
He was a bachelor then.
Cap. And so is now,
Or was so very late : for but a month
Ago I went from hence ; and then 'twas fresh
In murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do,
The less will prattle of,) that he did seek
The love of fair Olivia.
Vio. What's she ?
Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count
That died some twelvemonth since ; then leaving her
In the protection of his son, her brother,
Who shortly also died : for whose dear love,
They say, she hath abjur'd the company
And sight of men.
Vio. O, that I served that lady :
And might not be delivered to the world,
Till 1 had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.
Cap. That were hard to compass ;
Because she will admit no kind of suit,
No, not the duke's.
Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
I will bi'lieve, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ;
Thou shall present me as a page to him,
It may be worth thy pains ; for I can sing,
And speak to him in many sorts of musick,
That will allow me very worth his service.
What else may hap, to time I will commit;
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit.
Cap. Be you his page, and I your mute will be :
When my tongue blabs, let mine eyes not see !
Vio. I thank thee, lead me on.
{Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Room in Olivia'* House.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and MARIA.
Sir To. What a plague means my niece, to take
the death of her brother thus? I am sure, care's
an enemy to life.
Mar. By troth, Sir Toby, you must come in ear-
lier o'nights ; your cousin, my lady, takes great ex-
ceptions to your ill hours.
Sir To. Why, let her except before excepted.
Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself within
the modest limits of order.
Sir To. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer
than I am : these clothes are good enough to drink
in, and so be these boots too ; an they be not, let
them hang themselves in their own straps.
Mar. That quaffing and drinking will undo you :
I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; and of a
foolish knight, that you brought in one night here,
to be her wooer.
Sir To. Who ? Sir Andrew Ague-cheek ?
Mar. Ay, he.
Sir To. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
Mar. What's that to the purpose ?
Sir To. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year.
Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these
ducats ; he's a very fool, and a prodigal.
Sir To. Fye, that you'll say so ! he plays o' the
viol-de gambo, and speaks three or four languages
word for word without book, and hath all the good
gifts of nature.
Mar. He hath, indeed, almost natural : for,
besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller ;
and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay
the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among
the prudent, he would quickly have the gift of a grave.
Sir To. By this hand, they are scoundrels, and
substractors, that say so of him. Who are they?
Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk nightly
in your company.
Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece ; I'll
drink to her, as long as there is a passage in my
throat, and drink in Illyria : He's a coward, and a
coystril ', that will not drink to my niece, till his
brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. Here
comes Sir Andrew Ague-face.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Sir And. Sir Toby Belch ! how now, Sir Toby
Belch?
Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew !
Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew.
Mar. And you too, sir.
Sir To. Accost, sir Andrew, accost.
Sir And. What's that?
Sir To. My niece's chamber-maid.
Sir And. Good mistress Accost, I desire b
acquaintance.
Mar. My name is Mary, sir.
Sir And. Good mistress Mary Accost, -
Sir To. You mistake, knight: accost, is, front
her, board her, woo her, assail her.
Sir And. Is that the meaning of accost?
Mar. Fare you well, gentlemen.
Sir To. An thou let part so, sir Andrew, would
thou might'st never draw sword again.
Sir And. And you part so, mistress, I would
Keyitril, a bastard hawk-
F
66
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT I.
might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you
think you have fools in hand?
Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand.
Sir And. Marry, but you shall have ; and here's
my hand.
Mar. Now, sir, thought is free : I pray you,
bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and let it drink.
Sir And. Wherefore, sweet heart? what's your
metaphor ?
Mar. Its dry, sir.
Sir And. Why, I think so ; I am not such an
ass, but I can keep my hand dry. But what's
your jest ?
Mar. A dry jest, sir.
Sir And. Are you full of them ?
Mar. Ay, sir ; I have them at my fingers' ends.
[Exit MARIA.
Sir To. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary :
When did I see thee so put down ?
Sir And. Never in your life, I think ; unless you
see canary put me down : Methinks, sometimes I
have no more wit than an ordinary man has : but I
am a great eater of beef, and, I believe, that does
harm to my wit.
Sir To. No question.
Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll
ride home to-morrow, sir Toby.
Sir To. Pourquoy, my dear knight ?
Sir And. What is pourquoy ? do or not do ? I
would I had bestowed that time in the tongues,
that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting :
O, had I but followed the arts !
Sir To. Then hadst thou had an excellent head
of hair.
Sir And. Why, would that have mended my hair ?
Sir To. Past question ; for thou seest, it will not
curl by nature.
Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, does't
not?
Sir To. Excellent ; it hangs like flax on a distaff.
Sir Ami. I'll home to-morrow, sir Toby : your
niece will not be seen ; or, if she be, it's four to one
she'll none of me : the count himself, here hard by,
wooes her.
Kir To. She'll none o' the count ; she'll not
match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor
wit ; I have heard her swear it. Tut, there's life
in't, man.
Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow
o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in
masques and revels sometimes altogether.
Sir To. Art thou good at these kick-shaws, knight ?
Sir And. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he
be, under the degree of my betters ; and yet I will
not compare with an old man.
Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard,
knight?
Sir And. I can cut a caper.
Sir To. And I can cut the mutton to't.
Sir And. Shall we set about some revels ?
Sir To. What shall we do else? Let me see
thee caper : ha ! higher : ha, ha ! excellent !
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. _ A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in mans attire.
Val. If the duke continue these favours towards
you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced;
he hath known you but three days, and already you
are no stranger.
Vio. You either fear his humour, or my negli-
gence, that you call in question the continuance of
his love : Is he inconstant, sir, in his favours?
Val. No, believe me.
Enter Duke, CURIO, and Attendants.
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count.
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho ?
Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here.
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario,
Thou know'st no less but all ; I have unclasp'd
To thee the book even of my secret soul :
Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her ;
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors,
And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow,
Till thou have audience.
Vio. Sure, my noble lord,
If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil bounds,
Rather than make unprofited return.
Vio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord : What
then?
Duke. O, then unfold the passion of my love,
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith :
It shall become thee well to act my woes ;
She will attend it better in thy youth,
Than in a nuncio of grave aspect.
Vio. I think not so, my lord.
Duke. Dear lad, believe it ;
For they shall yet belie thy happy years
That say, thou art a man : Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound,
And all its semblative a woman's part.
I know, thy constellation is right apt
For this affair : Some four, or five, attend him ;
All, if you will ; for I myself am best,
When least in company : Prosper well in this,
And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord,
To call his fortunes thine.
Vio. I'll do my best.
To woo your lady : yet, [Aside.} a barful * strife !
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter MARIA, and Clown.
Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast beon,
or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may
enter, in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang
thee for thy absence.
Clo. Let her hang me : he, that is well hanged in
this world, needs to fear no colours.
Mar. Make that good.
Clo. He shall see none to fear.
Mar. A good lenten 3 answer : I can tell thee
where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
Clo. Where, good mistress Mary ?
Mar. In the wars ; and that may you be bold to
say in your foolery.
Clo. Well, Heaven give them wisdom, that have
it; and those that are fools, let them use their
talents.
Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so long
absent : or, to be turned away ; is not that as good
as a hanging to you ?
2 Full of impediments. 3 Short and spare
SCENE V.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a bad mar-
riage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out.
Mar. You are resolute then ?
Clo. Not so neither ; but I am resolved on two
points.
Mar. That, if one break, the other will hold.
Clo. Apt, in good faith ; very apt ! Well, go thy
way ; if sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert
as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria.
Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that ; here
comes my lady : make your excuse wisely, you were
I tost. [Exit.
Enter OLIVIA, and MALVOLIO.
Clo. Wit, and't be thy will, put me into good
fooling ! Those wits, that think they have thee, do
very oft prove fools ; and I, that am sure I lack
thee, may pass for a wise man : For what says
Quinapalus? Better a witty fool, than a foolish
wit. God bless thee, lady !
O/i. Take the fool away.
Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the
lady.
Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool : I'll no more of
you : besides, you grow dishonest.
Clo. Two faults, madonna 4 , that drink and good
counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then
is the fool not dry ; bid the dishonest man mend
himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest ; if
he cannot, let the botcher mend him. The lady
bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take
her away.
Oli. Sir, I bade them take away you.
Clo. Misprision in the highest degree ! Lady,
CucuUus nonfacit monachum ; that's as much as to
say, I wear not motley in my brain.
Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth
he not mend ?
Mai. Yes : and shall do, till the pangs of death
shake him . Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth
ever make the better fool.
Clo. Heaven send you, sir, a speedy infirmity,
for the better increasing your folly ! sir Toby will
be sworn, that I am no fox ; but he will not pass
his word for two- pence that you are no fool.
Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio ?
Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such
a barren rascal ; I saw him put down the other day
with an ordinary fool, that has no more brain than
a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard
already ; unless you laugh and minister occasion to
him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise
men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no
better than the fools' zanies. 4
Oli. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and
taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous,
guiltless, and of free disposition, is to take those
tilings for bird-bolts 6 , that you deem cannon-bul-
lets : There is no slander in an allowed fool, though
he do nothing but rail ; nor no railing in a known
man, though he do nothing but reprove.
Clo. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing 7, for
thou speakest well of fools.
Re-enter MARIA.
Mar. Madam, there is at the gate a young gen-
tleman, much desires to speak with you.
Oli. From the count Orsino, is it ?
4 7/<i/m, mistress, da
6 Short arrows.
* Fools' baubles.
? Lying.
Mar. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man
and well attended.
Oli. Who of my people hold him in delay ?
Mar. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.
Oli. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing
but madman: Fye on him ! {Exit MARIA. j (io
you, Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, I am
sick, or not at home ; what you will, to dismiss it.
[Exit MALVOLIO.] Now you see, sir, how your
fooling grows old, and people dislike it.
Clo. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy
eldest son should be a fool : whose skull Jove cram
with brains, for here comes one of thy kin, has a
most weak pia mater. 8
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH.
Oli. By mine honour, half drunk. Wliat is he
at the gate, cousin ?
Sir To. A gentleman.
Oli. A gentleman ! What gentleman ?
Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here A plague o' these
pickle-herrings ! How now, sot ?
Clo. Good sir Toby,
Sir To. There's one at the gate.
Oli. Ay, marry ; what is he ?
Sir To- Let him be the devil, an he will, I care
not : give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Erit.
Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool ?
Clo. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman :
one draught above heat makes him a fool ; the se-
cond mads him ; and a third drowns him.
OK. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let him
sit o' my coz ; for he's in the third degree of drink,
he's drown'd : go, look after him.
Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna ; and the fool
shall look to the madman. [Exit CLOWN.
Re-enter MALVOLIO.
Mai. Madam, yond' young fellow swears he will
speak with you. I told him you were sick ; he
takes on him to understand so much, and therefore
comes to speak with you : I told him you were
asleep ; he seems to have a fore-knowledge of that
too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What
is to be said to him, lady ? he's fortified against any
denial.
Oli. Tell him, he shall not speak with me.
Mai. He has been told so ; and he says, he'll
stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the
supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you.
Oli. What kind of man is he ?
Mai. Why, of man kind.
Oli. What manner of man ?
Mai. Of very ill manner ; he'll speak with you,
will you, or no.
O/i. Of what personage, and years, is he ?
Mai. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young
enough for a boy, between boy and man. He is
very well favoured, and he speaks very shrewislily ;
one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out
of him.
Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentlewoman.
Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit.
Re-enter MARIA.
O/i. Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my
face;
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.
8 The cover of the brain.
- F 2
68
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT I. SCENE V.
Enter VIOLA.
Vio. The honourable lady of the house, which is
she?
OH. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. Your
will?
Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable
beauty, I pray you, tell me, if this be the lady
of the house, for I never saw her : I would be loth
to cast away my speech ; for, besides that it is ex-
cellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to
con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn : I
am very comptible 9 , even to the least sinister
usage.
OIL Whence came you, sir ?
Vio. I can say little more than I have studied,
and that question's out of my part. Good gentle
one, give me modest assurance, if you be the lady
of the house, that I may proceed in my speech.
OH. Are you a comedian ?
Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by the
very fangs of malice, I swear, I am not that I play.
Are you the lady of the house ?
Oli, If I do not usurp myself, I am.
Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is riot yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission : I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show
you the heart of my message.
Oli. Come to what is important in't : I forgive
you the praise.
Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis
poetical.
Oli. It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray
you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my
gates j and allowed your approach, rather to won-
der at you than to hear you. If you be not mad,
be gone ; if you have reason, be brief : 'tis not that
time of moon with me, to make one in so skipping
a dialogue.
Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir ? here lies your way.
Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here a
little longer. Some mollifi cation for your giant ',
sweet lady.
Oli. Tell me your mind.
Vio. I am a messenger.
Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to de-
liver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak
your office.
Vio. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no
overture of war, no taxation of homage ; I hold the
olive in my hand : my words are as full of peace as
matter.
Oli. Yet you began rudely. What are you?
what would you?
Vio. The rudeness, that hath appeared in me,
have I learn'd from my entertainment. What I
am, and what I would, are to your ears, divinity ;
to any other's profanation.
OIL Give us the place alone : we will hear this
divinity. [Exit MARIA.] Now, sir, what is your
text?
Vio. Most sweet lady,
0/i. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
said of it. Where lies your text?
Vio. In Orsino's bosom.
Oli. In his bosom? In what chapter of his bosom?
9 Accountable.
1 It appears from several parts of this play that the original
actress of Maria was very short
Vio. To answer by the method, in the first of his
In-art.
Oli. O, I have read it ; it is heresy. Have you
no more to say ?
Vio. Good madam, let me see your face.
OH. Have you any commission from your lord to
negotiate with my face ? you are now out of your
text : but we will draw the curtain, and show you
the picture. Look you, sir, such a one as I was
this present : Is't not well done ? [ Unveiling.
Vio. Excellently done, if nature did all.
OIL 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and
weather.
Vio. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on :
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.
OIL O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I will
give out divers schedules of my beauty : It shall be
inventoried ; and every particle, and utensil, la-
belled to my will : as, item, two lips indifferent
red ; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them ; item,
one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent
hither to 'praise me ?
Vio. I see you what you are : you are too proud ;
But, if you were the devil, you are fair.
My lord and master loves you ; O, such love
Could be but recompens'd, though you were crown'd
The nonpareil of beauty !
OIL How does he love me ?
Vio. With adorations, with fertile tears,
With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.
OIL Your lord does know my mind, I cannot
love him :
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ;
In voices well divulg'd 3 , free, learn'd, and valiant,
And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him ;
He might have took his answer long ago.
Vio. If I did love you in my master's flame,
With such a suffering, such a deadly life,
In your denial I would find no sense,
I would not understand it.
Oli. Why, what would you ?
Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house ;
Write loyal cantons 4 of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me.
Oli. You might do much: Whatisyour parentage?
Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman.
Oli. Get you to your lord ;
I cannot love him : let him send no more ;
Unless, perchance, you come to me again,
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well
I thank you for your pains : spend this for me,
Vio. I am no fee'd post, lady ; keep your purse
My master, not myself, lacks recompense.
Love make his heart of flint, that you shall love ;
And let your fervour, like my master's, be
Plac'd in contempt ! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit.
2 Presents. 3 Well spoken of by the world.
4 Cantos, verses.
L
purse ;
ACT II. SCENE I.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
Oli. What is your parentage ?
Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman. I'll be sworn thou art ;
Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit,
Do give thee five-fold blazon : Not too fast :
soft ! soft !
Unless the master were the man. How now ?
Even so quickly may one catch the plague ?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
What, ho, Malvolio !
Re-enter MALVOLIO.
Mai. Here, madam, at your service.
| OIL Run after that same peevish messenger,
The county's man : he left this ring behind him,
Would I, or not ; tell him, I'll none of it.
Desire him not to flatter with his lord,
Nor hold him up with hopes ; I am not for him
If that the youth will come this way to-morrow,
I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio.
Mai. Madam, I will. [Exit.
Oli. I do I know not what : and fear to find
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.
Fate, show thy force : Ourselves we do not
What is decreed, must be ; and be this so
[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. The Sea-coast.
Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Ant. Will you stay no longer ? nor will you not,
that I go with you ?
Seb. By your patience, no : my stars shine darkly
over me ; the malignancy of my fate might, per-
haps, distemper yours ; therefore I shall crave of
you your leave, that 1 may bear my evils alone :
It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any
of them on you.
Ant. Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
Seb. No, 'sooth, sir ; my determinate voyage is
mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so ex-
cellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort
from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it
charges me in manners the rather to express myself.
You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is
Sebastian, which I called Rodorigo : my father was
that Sebastian of Messaline, whom, I know, you
have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and a
sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens had
been pleas'd, would we had so ended ! but you, sir,
alter'd that; for, some hour before you took me
from the breach of the sea, was my sister drowned.
Ant. Alas, the day !
Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much re-
sembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful :
but, though I could not, with such estimable won-
der, overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly
publish her, she bore a mind that envy could not
but call fair : she is drowned already, sir, with salt
water, though I seem to drown her remembrance
again with more.
Ant. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment
Seb. O, good Antonio, forgive me your trouble.
Ant. If you will not murder me for my love, let
me be your servant.
Seb. If you will not undo what you have done,
that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire
it not. Fare ye well at once : my bosom is full of
kindness ; and I am yet so near the manners of my
mother, that upon the least occasion more, mine
eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the count
Orsino's court : farewell. [Exit.
Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee :
I have many enemies in Orsino's court,
Klse would I very shortly see thee there :
But come what may, I do adore thee so,
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit.
SCENE II. A Street.
Enter VIOL. A.; MALVOLIO following.
Mai. Were not you even now with the counli-ss
Olivia?
Vio. Even now, sir ; on a moderate pace I have
since arrived but hither.
Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir ; you
might have saved me my pains, to have taken it
away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should
put your lord into a desperate assurance she will
none of him : And one tiling more ; that you be
never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it
be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so.
Vio. She took the ring of me ; I'll none of it.
Mai. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her ;
and her will is, it should be so returned : if it be
worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye ; if not,
be it his that finds it. [Exit.
Vio. I left no ring with her: What means this lady ?
Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd her !
She made good view of me ; indeed, so much,
That sure, methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord's ring ! why, he sent her none.
I am the man ; If it be so as 'tis),
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant 6 enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper-false
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms !
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ;
For, such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge ? 7 My master loves her dearly;
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him ;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me :
What will become of this ! As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love ;
As I am woman, now alas the day !
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe !
O time, t IK in must untangle this, not I ;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Ejcit.
SCENE III. A Room in Olivia'* House.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bcd
s Own, pouett. < Dexterous, ready. r Suit.
F 3
70
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT II.
after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and diluculo
surgere, thou know'st,
Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not : but I
know, to be up late, is to be up late.
Sir To. A false conclusion : I hate it as an un-
filled can : To be up after midnight, and to go to
bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed after mid-
night, is to go to bed betimes. Do not our lives
consist of the four elements ?
Sir And. 'Faith, so they say ; but, I think, it
rather consists of eating and drinking.
Sir To. Thou art a scholar ; let us therefore eat
and drink. Marian, I say ! a stoop of wine !
Enter Clown.
Sir And. Here comes the fool.
Clo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never see
the picture of we three ? 8
Sir To. Welcome ass. Now let's have a catch.
Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an excellent
breast. 9 I had rather than forty shillings I had
such a leg ; and so sweet a breath to sing, as the
fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious
fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogro-
mitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of
Queubus; 'twas very good, i'faith.
Clo. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmi-
dons are no bottle-ale houses.
Sir And. Excellent ! Why, this is the best fool-
ing, when all is done. Now, a song.
Sir To. Come on ; there is a sixpence for you :
let's have a song.
Sir And. There's a testril of me too : if one
knight give a
Clo. Would you have a love-song, or a song of
good life?
Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.
Sir And. Ay, ay ; I care not for good life.
SONG.
Clo, mistress mine, where are you roaming ?
stay and hear ; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low :
Trip no further, pretty sweeting ;
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise mans son doth know.
Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith !
Sir To. Good, good.
Clo. What is love 9 'tis not hereafter ;
Present mirth hath present laughter ;
What's to come, is still unsure :
In delay there lies no plenty ;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.
Sir To. A contagious breath.
Sir And. Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in
contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance
indeed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch,
that will draw three souls out of one weaver?
Shall we do that ?
Sir And. An you love me, let's do't : I am dog
at a catch.
Clo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Sir And. Most certain : let our catch be, Thou
knave.
Loggerheads be.
9 Voice.
Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight ! I shall
be constraint! in't to call thee knave, knight.
Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have constrain'd
one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it begins, Hold
thy peace.
Clo. I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.
Sir And. Good, i'faith ! Come, begin.
[ They sing a catch.
Enter MARIA.
Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep here !
If my lady have not called up her steward, Mal-
volio, and bid liim turn you out of doors, never
trust me.
Sir To. My lady's a Catalan ', we are politicians :
Malvolio's a Peg- a- Ramsey -, and Three merry men
we be. Am not I consanguineous ? am I not of her
blood ? Tilly-valley 3 , lady ! There dwelt a man in
Habylon, lady, lady! [Singing.
Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he be dis-
posed, and so do I too ; he does it with a better
grace, but I do it more natural.
Sir To. the twelfth day of December, [Smging.
Mar. Peace.
Enter MALVOLIO.
Mai. My masters, are you mad? or what are
you ? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but
to gabble like tinkers at this time of night ? Do ye
make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak
out your coziers' 4 catches without any mitigation
or remorse of voice ? Is there no respect of place,
persons, nor time, in you ?
Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches.
Sneck up ! 5
Mai. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My
lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours
you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your
disorders. If you can separate yourself and your
misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house ; if
not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she
is very willing to bid you farewell.
Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs
be gone.
Mar. Nay, good sir Toby.
Clo. His eyes do show his days are almost done.
Mai. Is't even so?
Sir To. But I will never die.
Clo. Sir Toby, there you lie.
Mai. This is much credit to you.
Sir To. Shall I bid him go ? [Singing.
Clo. What an if you do ?
Sir To. Shall I bid him go, and spare not ?
Clo. no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Sir To. Out o'time ? sir, ye lie. Art any more
than a steward ? Dost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?
Clo. Yes, by saint Anne ; and ginger shall be
hot i'the mouth too.
Sir To. Thou'rt i'the right. Go, sir, rub your
chain with crums : A stoop of wine, Maria !
Mai. Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's
favour at any thing more than contempt, you would
not give means for this uncivil rule ; she shall know
of it, by this hand. [Exit*
Mar. Go shake your ears.
1 Romancer.
2 Name of an old song.
SCENE III.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
71
Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when
a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the field ; and
then to break promise with him, and make a fool of
him.
Sir To. Do't, knight ; I'll write thee a chal-
lenge : or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by
word of mouth.
Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to-night :
since the youth of the count's was to-day with my
lady, she is much out of quiet. For monsieur
Malvolio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull
him into a nay- word 6 , and make him a common
recreation, do not I think I have wit enough to lie
straight in my bed : I know, I can do it.
Sir To. Possess us 7 , possess us ; tell us some-
thing of him.
Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan.
Sir And, O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like
a dog.
Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? thy exqui-
site reason, dear knight?
Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I
have reason good enough.
Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or any thing
constantly but a time-pleaser ; an affectioned ass,
that cons state without book, and utters it by great
swarths 8 : the best persuaded of himself, so cram-
med, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his
ground of faith, that all, that look on him, love
him ; and on that vice in him will my revenge find
notable cause to work.
Sir To. What wilt thou do ?
Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles
of love ; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the
shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expres-
sure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall
find himself most feelingly personated : I can write
very like my lady, your niece ; on a forgotten matter
we can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Sir To. Excellent ! I smell a device.
Sir And. I have't in my nose too.
Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that thou
wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that
she is in love with him.
Mar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
Sir And. And your horse now would make him
an ass.
Mar. Ass, I doubt not.
Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable.
Mar. Sport royal, I warrant you. I will plant
you two, and let the fool make a third, where he
shall find the letter ; observe his construction of it.
For this night, to bed, and dream on the event.
Farewell. [Exit.
Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea. 9
Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench.
Sir To. She's a beagle, true bred, and one that
adores me : What o'that ?
Sir And. I was adored once too.
Sir To. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need
semi for more money.
Sir And. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a
foul way out.
Sir To. Send for money, knight ; if thou hast
her not i'the end, call me Cut. l
Sir Ami. If I do not, never trust me, take it
liow you will.
6 Bye-word. 7 Inform ui.
H The row of grass left by a mower.
9 Amazon. > FooL
Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack,
'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight ; come,
knight. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Room in tJie Duke's Palace.
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and others.
Duke. Give me some musick : Now, good
morrow, friends :
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night ;
Methought, it did relieve my passion much ;
More than light airs, and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times :
Come, but one verse.
Cur. He is not here, so please your lordship, that
should sing it.
Duke. Who was it?
Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord ; a fool, that the
lady Olivia's father took much delight in : he is
about the house.
Duke. Seek him out, and play the tune the while.
[Exit CURIO. Musick.
Come hither, boy : If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me ;
For, such as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unstaid and skfttish in all motions else,
Save, in that constant image of the creature
That is belov'd. How dost thou like this tune ?
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where Love is thron'd.
Duke. Thou dost speak masterly :
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves j
Hath it not, boy ?
Vio. A little, by your favour.
Duke. What kind of woman is't?
Via. Of your complexion.
Duke. She is not worth thee, then. What years,
i'faith?
Vio. About your years, my lord.
Duke. Too old, by heaven ; Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.
Vio. I think it well, my lord.
Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent :
For women are as roses ; whose fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
Vio. And so they are : alas, that they are so ;
To die, even when they to perfection grow !
Re-enter CURIO, and Clown.
Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last
night :
Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain :
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with
bones,
Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth ',
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.
do. Are you ready, sir '
Duke. Ay ; pr'ythee, sing. [Mu$ick.
* Simple truth.
F 4
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT II.
SONG.
Clo. Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away,Jty away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
0, prepare it ;
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not ajlower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown ;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown :
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, 0, where
Sad true lover ne'er Jind my grave,
To weep there. .
Duke. There's for thy pains.
Clo. No pains, sir ; I take pleasure in singing, sir.
Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure, then.
Clo. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one
time or another.
Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee.
Clo. Now, the melancholy god protect thee ; and
the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffata,
for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of
such constancy put to sea, that their business might
be every thing, and their intent every where ; for
that's it, that always makes a good voyage of no-
thing Farewell. [Exit Clown.
Duke. Let all the rest give place.
[Exeunt CURIO and Attendants.
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yon' same sovereign cruelty :
Tell her, my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune ;
But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks 3 her in, attracts my soul.
Vio. But, if she cannot love you, sir ?
Duke. I cannot be so answer'd.
Vio. 'Sooth, but you must.
Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ;
You tell her so ; Must she not then be answer'd ?
Duke. There is no woman's sides,
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much ; they lack retention.
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much : make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.
Vio. Ay, but I know,
Duke. What dost thou know ?
Vio. Too well what love women to men may owe :
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.
Duke. And what's her history ?
Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought :
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
3 Decks.
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ?
We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.
Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ?
Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too ; and yet I know not :
Sir, shall I to this lady ?
Duke. Ay, that's the theme.
To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; say,
My love can give no place, bide no denay. 4
{Exeunt.
SCENE V. Olivia's Garden.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,
and FABIAN.
Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian.
Fab. Nay, I'll come ; if I lose a scruple of this
sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
Sir To. Would'st thou not be glad to have the
niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable
shame ?
Fab. I would exult, man : you know, he brought
me out of favour with my lady, about a bear-baiting
here.
Sir To. To anger him, we'll have the bear again |
and we will fool him black and blue : Shall we
not, sir Andrew?
Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives.
Enter MARIA.
Sir To. Here comes the little villain : How
now, my nettle of India ?
Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree : Mal--
volio's coming down this walk ; he has been yonder
i'the sun, practising behaviour to his own shadow
this half hour : observe him, for the love of mockery
for, I know, this letter will make a contemplative
idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting ! [ The
men hide themselves.] Lie thou there; [Throwij
down a letter,} for here comes the trout that must
be caught with tickling. [Exit MARIA.
Enter MALVOLIO.
Mai. 'Tis but fortune ; all is fortune. Maria
once told me, she did affect me : and I have heard
herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it
should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses
me with a more exalted respect than any one else
that follows her. What should I think on't?
Sir To. Here's an overweening rogue !
Fab. O, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare
turkey-cock of him ; how he jets 5 under his ad-
vanced plumes !
Sir And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue :
Sir To. Peace, I say.
Mai. To be count Malvolio ;
Sir To. Ah, rogue !
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him.
Sir To. Peace, peace !
Mai. There is example for't ; the lady of the
strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel !
Fab. O, peace ! now he's deeply in, look, how
imagination blows him.
Mai. Having been three months married to her,
sitting in my state,
* Denial.
Struts
SCENE V.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
73
Sir To. O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye !
Mai. Calling my officers about me, in my branched
t gown ; having come from a day-bed, where I
left Olivia sleeping.
Sir To. Fire and brimstone !
Fab. O, peace, peace !
A fat. And then to have the humour of state : and
after a demure travel of regard, telling them, I
know my place, as I would they should do theirs,
to ask for my kinsman Toby :
Sir To. Bolts and shackles !
Fab. O, peace, peace, peace ! now, now.
Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient start,
make out for him : I frown the while ; and, per-
chance, wind up my watch, or play witli some ricli
jewel. Toby approaches ; court'sies there to me :
Sir To. Shall this fellow live ?
Fab. Though our silence be drawn from us with
cars, yet peace.
Mai. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching
my familiar smile with an austere regard of control :
Sir To. And does not Toby take you a blow o'the
lips then?
Mai. Saying, Covsin Toby, my fortunes having cast
me on your niece, give me this prerogative of speech :
Sir To. What, what?
Mai. You must amend your drunkenness.
Sir To. Out, scab !
Fab. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of
our plot.
Mai. Besides, you waste the treasure of your time
uith a foolish knight ,-
Sir And. That's me, I warrant you.
Mai. One Sir Andrew :
Sir And. I knew, 'twas I ; for many do call me fool.
Mai. What employment have we here ?
[Taking up the letter.
Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin.
Sir To. O, peace ! and the spirit of humours in-
timate reading aloud to him !
Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hand : these
be her very P's her U's and her T"s, and thus makes
she her great C's. It is, in contempt of question,
her hand.
Sir And. Her P's, her Z7's, and her Ts : Why that?
Mai. [Reads.] To the unknown beloved, this, and
my good wishes : her very phrases ! By your leave,
wax. Soft ! and the im pressure her Lucrece,
with which she uses to seal : 'tis my lady : To whom
should this be?
Fab. This wins him, liver and all.
Mai. [Reads.] Jove knows, I love :
But who?
Lips do not move,
No man must know.
No man must know. What follows ? the numbers
altered ! No man must know : If this should be
thee, Malvolio ?
Sir To. Marry, hang thee, brock !
Mai. / may command, where I adore :
Jint silence, like a Lucrece knife,
H'it/i bloodless stroke my heart doth gore ;
M, O, A, I, dot h sivay my life.
Fab. A fustian riddle !
Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.
A fill. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. Nay, but
first, lot nu- siv, let me see, let me see.
Fab. What a dish of poison has she d i-ssed him !
Badger.
Sir To. And with what wing the stannycl ? checks
at it ! 8
Mai. I may command where I adore. Why, she
may command me ; I serve her, she is my lady.
Why, this is evident to any formal capacity. There
is no obstruction in this ; And the end, What
should that alphabetical position portend ? If I
could make that resemble something in me,
Softly ! M, 0, A, I.
Sir To. O, ay ! make up that : he is now at a
cold scent.
Fab. Sowter 9 will cry upon't for all this, though
it be as rank as a fox.
Mai. M, Malvolio ; M, why, that begins
my name.
Fab. Did not I say, he would work it out ? the
cur is excellent at faults.
Mai. M, But then there is no consonancy in
the sequel : that suffers under probation : A should
follow, but does.
Fab. And shall end, I hope.
Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him
cry, 0.
Mai. And then / comes behind ;
Fab. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you
might see more detraction at your heels, than for-
tunes before you.
Mai. M, 0, A, I; This simulation is not as the
former : and yet, to crush this a little, it would
bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my
name. Soft ; here follows prose. If this full into
thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee i
but be not afraid of greatness : Some are born great,
some achieve greatness, and some have greatness
thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands; let
thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure
thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble
slough l , and appear fresh. Be opposite with a
kinsman, surly with servants : let thy tongue tang
arguments of state ; put thyself into the trick of
singularity : she thus advises thee, that sighs for
thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stock-
ings; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I
say, remember. Go to ; thou art made, if thou
desirest to be so ; if not, let me see thee a steward
still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch
fortune's fingers. Farewell. Slie that would alter
services with thee t The fortunate-unhappy.
Day-light and champian discovers not more : this
is open. I will be proud, I will read politick
authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross
acquaintance, I will be point-de-vice 3, the very
man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination
jade me ; for every reason excites to this, that my
lady loves me. She did commend my yellow
stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-
gartered ; and in this she manifests herself to my
love, and, with a kind of injunction, drives me to
these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am
happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stock-
ings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of
putting on. Jove, and my stars be praised !
Here is yet a postscript. Thou canst not choose but
know who lam. If thou entertainest my love, let it
appear in thy smiling ; thy smiles become thee well:
therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet,
Ipr'ythee. Jove, I thank thee. I will smile ; I
will do every tiling that thou wilt have me. [Exit.
J Hawk.
s Flyi at it
* Open country.
Name of a hound.
3 Utmost exactness.
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT III.
F<ib. 1 will not give my part of this sport for a
pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
Sir To. I could marry this wench for this device.
Sir And. So could I too.
Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her, but
such another jest.
Enter MARIA.
Sir And. Nor I neither.
Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher.
Sir To. Wilt thou set thy foot o'my neck ?
Sir And. Or o'mine either ?
Sir To. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip \
and become thy bond slave ?
Sir And. I'faith, or I either.
Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream,
that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run
mad.
Mar. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him ?
Sir To. Like aqua vitae.
Mar. If you will then see the fruits of the sport,
mark his first approach before my lady : he will
come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour
she abhors ; and cross-gartered, a fashion she de-
tests ; and he will smile upon her, which will now
be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted
to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn
him into a notable contempt : if you will see it,
follow me.
Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excel-
lent devil of wit !
Sir And. I'll make one too. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Olivia's Garden.
Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabor.
Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick : Dost
thou live by thy tabor ?
do. No, sir, I live by the church.
Vio. Art thou a churchman ?
Clo. No such matter, sir ; I do live by the church :
for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand
by the church.
Vio. So thou may'st say, the king lies 5 by a
beggar, if a beggar dwell near him : or, the church
stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.
Clo. You have said, sir. To see this age ! A
sentence is but a cheveril 6 glove to a good wit;
How quickly the wrong side may be turned out-
ward !
Vio. I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and carest
for nothing.
Clo. Not so, sir, I do care for something : but in
my conscience, sir, I do not care for you ; if that be
to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you
invisible.
Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool ?
Clo. No, indeed, sir ; the lady Olivia has no folly :
she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married ; and
fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings,
the husband's the bigger; I am, indeed, not her
fool, but her corrupter of words.
Vio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino's.
Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, like
the sun ; it shines every where. I would be sorry,
sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master, as
with my mistress : I think, I saw your wisdom there.
Vio. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more
with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee. Is thy
lady within?
Clo. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to
her whence you come : who you are, and what you
would, are out of my welkin : I might say, element ;
but the word is over-worn. [Exit.
Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit.
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time ;
4 A boy's diversion, three and trip.
Dwells.
Kid.
And, like the haggard 7 , check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art :
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and Sir AKDREW AGUE-
CHEEK.
Sir To. Save you, gentleman.
Vio. And you, sir.
Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.
Vio. Et vous aussi ; votre serviteur.
Sir And. I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours.
Sir To. Will you encounter the house ? my niece
is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir ; I mean, she
is the list 8 of my voyage.
Sir To. Taste your legs, sir, put them to motion.
Vio. My legs do better understand me, sir, than
I understand what you mean by bidding me taste
my legs.
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter.
Vio. I will answer you with gait and entrance :
But we are prevented.
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain
odours on you !
Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier! Rain
odours! well.
Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your
own most pregnant 9 and vouchsafed ear.
Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed :
I'll get 'em all three ready.
OH. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me
to my hearing.
[Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and MARIA.
Give me your hand, sir.
Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble service.
OK. What is your name ?
Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.
OK- My servant, sir ! 'Twas never merry world,
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment :
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth;
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours :
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam.
7 A hawk not well trained.
9 Ready.
8 Bound, limit.
SCENE I.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
75
OH. For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts,
'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me!
Via. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts
On his behalf :
OH O, by your leave, I pray you ;
I bade you 'never speak again of him :
But, would you undertake another suit,
I had rather hear you to solicit that,
Than musick from the spheres.
Via. Dear lady,
OK. Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send,
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you : so did 1 abuse
Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you :
Under your hard construction must I sit,
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning,
Which you knew none of yours : What might you
think ?
Have you not set mine honour at the stake,
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts
That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your
receiving l
Enough is shown ; a Cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you speak.
Vio. I pity you.
OIL That's a degree to love.
Vio. No, not a grise ; for 'tis a vulgar proof,
That very oft we pity enemies.
OH. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile again ;
O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud !
If one should be a prey, how much the better
To fall before the lion, than the wolf? [Clock strikes.
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time,
Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you :
And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest,
Your wife is like to reap a proper man :
There lies your way, due west.
Vio. Then westward-hoe :
Grace, and good disposition 'tend your ladyship !
You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me ?
OH. Stay:
I pr'ythee, tell me, what thou think'st of me.
Vio. That you do think, you are not what you are.
Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you.
Vio. Then think you right ; I am not what I am.
Oli. I would you were as I would have you be !
Vio. Would it be better, madam, than I am,
I wish it might ; for now I am your fool.
Oli. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip !
A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon
Than love that would seem hid : love's night is noon
Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause :
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter :
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth,
And that no woman has ; nor never none
Shall mistnss be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam ; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.
(Hi. Yet come again : for thou, perhaps, may'st mov
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.
[Exeunt
1 Ready apprehension. 8 Step.
SCENE II. A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK,
and FABIAN.
Sir And. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer.
Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason.
Fab. You must needs yield your reason, sir An-
rew.
Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours
o the count's serving man, than ever she bestowed
pon me : I saw't i'the orchard.
Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old boy ? tell
me that.
Sir And. As plain as I see you now.
Fab. This was a great argument of love in her
oward you.
Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me?
Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths
3f judgment and reason.
Sir To. And they have been grand jury-men,
ince before Noah was a sailor.
Fab. She did show favour to the youth in your
sight, only to exasperate you, to awake your dor-
mouse valour, to put fire in your heart, and brim-
stone in your liver : You should then have accosted
icr ; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from
the mint, you should have banged the youth into
dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and
this was baulked : the double gilt of this oppor-
tunity you let time wash off, and you are now
sailed into the north of my lady's opinion ; where
you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard,
unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt,
either of valour, or policy.
Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with
valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a
Brownist 3, as a politician.
Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes upon
the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth
to fight with him ; hurt him in eleven places ; my
niece shall take note of it : and assure thyself, there
is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in
man's commendation with woman, than report of
valour.
Fab. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew.
Sir And. Will either of you bear me a challenge
to him?
Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand ; be curst *
and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be elo-
quent, and full of invention : taunt him with the
licence of ink : if thou thoust him some thrice, it
shall not be amiss ; and as many lies as will lie in
thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big
enough for the bed of Ware * in England, set 'em
down ; go, about it. Let there be gall enough in
thy ink : though thou write with a goose-pen, no
matter : About it.
Sir And. Where shall I find you ?
Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo <5 . Go.
[Exit Sir ANDREW.
Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby.
Sir To. 1 have been dear to him, lad ; some two
thousand strong, or so.
Fab. We shall have a rare letter from him : but
you'll not deliver it ?
Sir To. Never trust me then ; and by all means
3 Separatists in Queen Elizabeth's reign. 4 Crabbed.
4 In Hertfordshire, which held forty persons. 6 Chamber.
76
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT III.
stir on the youth to an answer. I think, oxen and
wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew,
if he were opened, and you find so much blood in
his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the
rest of the anatomy.
Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his
visage no great presage of cruelty.
Enter MARIA.
Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren of nine
comes.
Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh
yourselves into stitches, follow me : yon' gull Mal-
volio is in yellow stockings.
Sir To. And cross-gartered ?
Mar. Most villainously ; like a pedant that keeps
a school i'the church. I have dogged him, like
his murderer : He does obey every point of the
letter that I dropped to betray him. He does
smile his face into more lines, than are in the new
map, with the augmentation of the Indies: you
have not seen such a thing as 'tis ; I can hardly
forbear hurling things at him. I know, my lady
will strike him ; if she do, he'll smile, and take't
for a great favour.
Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he is.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Street.
Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN.
Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled you ;
But, since you make your pleasure of your pains,
I will no further chide you.
Ant. I could not stay behind you ; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth :
And not all love to see you, (though so much,
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,)
But jealousy what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts ; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable : My willing love,
The rather by these arguments of fear,
Set forth in your pursuit.
Seb, My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but, thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks : Often good turns
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay :
But, were my worth, as is my conscience, firm,
You should find better dealing. What's to do ?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town ?
Ant. To-morrow, sir ; best, first, go see your
lodging.
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night ;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.
Ant. 'Would you'd pardon me ;
I do not without danger walk these streets :
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his gallies,
I did some service ; of such note, indeed,
That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd.
Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people.
Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature ;
Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel,
Might well have given us bloody argument.
It might have since been answer'd in repaying
What we took from them ; which for traffick's sake
Most of our city did : only myself stood out :
For which, if I be lapsed 7 in this place,
I shall pay dear.
Seb. Do not then walk too open.
Ant. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my
purse ;
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet.
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your know-
ledge,
With viewing of the town ; there shall you have me.
Seb. Why I your purse ?
Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase ; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for
An hour.
Ant. To the Elephant.
Seb. I do remember.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Olivia's Garden.
Enter OLIVIA and MARIA.
OH. I have sent after him : He says, he'll come ;
How shall I feast him ? what bestow on him ?
For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, or bor-
row'd.
I speak too loud.
Where is Malvolio ? he is sad, and civil,
And suits well for a servant with my fortunes ;
Where is Malvolio ?
Mar. He's coming, madam ;
But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd.
OH. Why, what's the matter ? does he rave ?
Mar. No, madam,
He does nothing but smile ; your ladyship
Were best have guard about you if he come ;
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits.
OK. Go call him hither. I'm as mad as he,
If sad and merry madness equal be.
Enter MALVOLIO.
How now, Malvolio ?
Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles fantastically.
Oli. Smil'st thou ?
I sent for thee upon a sad 8 occasion.
Mai. Sad, lady ? I could be sad : This does
make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gar-
tering : But what of that, if it please the eye of
one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is : Please
one, and please all.
OH. Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the
matter with thee ?
Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow in
my legs : It did come to his hands, and commands
shall be executed. I think, we do know the sweet
Roman hand.
OH. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio?
Mai. To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and I'll come
to thee.
OH. God comfort thee ! Why dost thou smile so,
and kiss thy hand so oft ?
Mar. How do you, Malvolio ?
Mai. At your request ? Yes ; Nightingales an-
swer daws.
Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous bold-
ness before my lady ?
Mai. Be not afraid of greatness : 'Twas well writ.
OK. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio ?
7 Caught.
Grave.
SCENE IV.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
77
Mai. Some are born great,
Oli. Ha?
Mai. Some achieve greatness,
Oli. What say'st thou ?
Mai. And some have greatness thrust upon them.
Oli. Heaven restore thee !
Mai. Remember who commended thy yellow stock-
Oli Thy yellow stockings ?
Mai. And wished to see thee cross-gartered.
Oli. Cross-gartered ?
Mai. Go to : thou art made, if thou desirest to be
so;
Oli. Am I made ?
Mai. If not, let me see thee a servant still.
Oli. Why, this is very midsummer madness.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Madam, the young gentleman of the count
Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly entreat him
back : he attends your ladyship's pleasure.
Oli. I'll come to him. [Exit Servant.] Good
Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my
cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have a special
care of him ; I would not have him miscarry for the
half of my dowry. [Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA.
Mai. Oh, ho ! do you come near me now ? no
worse man than sir Toby to look to me ? This con-
curs directly with the letter: she sends him on
purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him ; for
she incites me to that in the letter. Cast thy hum-
ble slough, says she : be opposite with a kinsman,
surly unth servants, let thy tongue tang with ar-
guments of state, put thyself into the trick of
singularity ; and, consequently, sets down the
manner how ; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a
slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and
so forth. I have limed her ; but it is Jove's doing,
and Jove make me thankful ! And, when she went
away now, Let this fellow be looked to : Fellow ! 9
not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.
Why, every thing adheres together ; that no dram
of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle,
no incredulous or unsafe circumstance, What
can be said ? Nothing, that can be, can come be-
tween me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well,
Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Re-enter MARIA, with Sir TOBY BELCH, and
FABIAN.
Sir To. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity ?
I'll speak to him.
Fab. Here he is, here he is : How is't with you,
sir ? how is't with you, man ?
Mai. Go off; I discard you, let me enjoy my
private ; go off.
Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within
him ! did not I tell you ? Sir Toby, my lady prays
you to have a care of him.
Mai. Ah, ha ! does she so ?
Sir To. Go to, go to ; peace, peace, we must
deal gently with him ; let me alone. How do you,
Malvolio ? how is't with you ? What, man ! defy the
devil : consider he's an enemy to mankind.
Mai. Do you know what you say ?
Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how
he takes it at heart ! Pray heaven, he be not be-
witched ! My lady would not lose him for more
than I'll say.
' Companion.
Mai. How now, mistress?
Mar. O lord !
Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace : this is not the
way : Do you not see, you move him ? let me alone
with him.
Fab. No way but gentleness ; gently, gently : the
fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used.
Sir To. Why how now, my bawcock ? ' how dost
thou, chuck ?
Mai. Sir?
Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man !
'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit 2 with Satan ;
Hang him, foul collier !
Mai. Go hang yourselves all ! you are idle shal-
low things : I am not of your element ; you shall
know more hereafter. [Exit.
Sir To. Is't possible ?
Fab. If this were played upon a stage now, I
could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Sir To. His very genius hath taken the infection
of the device, man.
Mar. Nay, pursue him now ; lest the device take
air, and taint.
Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed.
Mar. The house will be the quieter.
Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room,
and bound. My niece is already in the belief that
he is mad ; we may carry it thus, for our pleasure,
and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of
breath, prompt us to have mercy on him : at which
time, we will bring the device to the bar, and crown
thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Fab. More matter for a May morning.
Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I warrant,
there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Fab. Is't so sawcy ?
Sir And. Ay, is it, I warrant him ; do but read.
Sir To. Give me. [Reads.] Youth, whatsoever
thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Fab. Good and valiant.
Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind,
why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason
fort.
Fab. A good note : that keeps you from the blow
of the law.
Sir To.- Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my
sight she uses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy throat,
that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.
Sir To. / will way-lay thee going home ; where if it
be thy chance to kill me,
Fab. Good.
Sir To. Thou kittest me like a rogue and a rtkiin.
Fab. Still you keep o'the windy side of the law :
Good.
Sir To. Fare thee well : And God have mercy
upon one of our souls I He may have mercy upon
mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself.
Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy.
ANDREW AGUE-CHI i K.
Sir To. If this letter move him not, his legs can-
not : I'll giv't him.
Mar. You may have very fit occasion for't ; he
is now in some commerce with my lady, and will
by and by depart.
Sir To. Go, sir Andrew; scout me for him at
the corner of the orchard, like a bailiff: so soon as
i Jolly cock, beau and eoq. a A play among boys.
78
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT III. SCENE IV.
over thou secst him, draw ; and, as thou drawest,
swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft, that a ter-
rible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged
off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof
itself would have earned him. Away.
Sir And. Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit.
Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter : for the
behaviour of the young gentleman gives him out to
be of good capacity and breeding ; his employment
between his lord and my niece confirms no less ;
therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant,
will breed no terror in the youth ; he will find it
comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his
challenge by word of mouth ; set upon Ague-cheek
a notable report of valour ; and drive the gentle-
man, (as, I know his youth will aptly receive it,)
into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury,
and impetuosity. This will so frighten them both,
that they will kill one another by the look, like
cockatrices.
Enter OLIVIA and VIOLA.
Fab. Here he comes with your niece : give them
way, till he take leave, and presently after him.
Sir To. I will meditate the while upon some
horrid message for a challenge.
[Exeunt Sir TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA.
OH. I have said too much unto a heart of stone,
And laid mine honour too unchary out :
There's something in me, that reproves my fault ;
But such a headstrong potent fault it is,
That it but mocks reproof.
Via. With the same 'haviour that your passion bears,
Go on my master's griefs.
OH. Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture;
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you :
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny ;
That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give ?
Vio. Nothing but this, your true love for my master.
Oli. How with mine honour may I give him that
Which I have given to you ?
Vio. I will acquit you.
Oli. Well, come again to-morrow : Fare thee well.
[Exit.
Re-enter Sir TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN.
Sir To. Gentleman, heaven save thee.
Vio. And you, sir.
Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee to't :
of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him,
I know not ; but thy intercepter, full of despight,
bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard
end : dismount thy tuck 3, be yare 4 in thy prepar-
ation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly.
Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man hath
any quarrel to me; my remembrance is very free
and clear from any image of offence done to any
man.
Sir To. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you :
therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake
you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him
what youth, strength, skill and wrath, can furnish
man withal.
Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he?
Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unhacked
rapier, and on carpet consideration; but he is a
devil in private brawl : souls and bodies hath he
divorced three ; and his incensement at this moment
3 Rapier Ready.
is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but
by pangs of death and sepulchre : hob, nob, is his
word ; give't or tak't.
Vio. I will return again into the house, and de-
sire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I
have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels
purposely on others, to taste their valour : belike,
this is a man of that quirk.
Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives itself out
of a very competent injury ; therefore get you on,
and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the
house, unless you undertake that with me, which
with as much safety you might answer him : there-
fore, on, or strip your sword stark naked : for meddle
you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron
about you.
Vio. This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech
you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the
knight what my offence to him is : it is something
of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you
by this gentleman till my return. [Exit Sir TOBY.
Vio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ?
fab. I know the knight is incensed against you,
even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the
circumstance more.
Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is he ?
Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read
him by his form, as you are like to find him in the
proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most
skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could
possibly have found in any part of Illyria: Will
you walk towards him ? I will make your peace
with him, if I can.
Vio. I shall be much bound to you for't : I am
one, that would rather go with sir priest, than sir
knight : I care not who knows so much of my
mettle. [Exeunt.
Re-enter Sir TOBY, with Sir ANDREW.
Sir To. Why, man, he's a very devil ; I have not
seen such a virago. I had a pass with him, rapier,
scabbard, and all, and he gives me the stuck-in 5 ,
with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable;
and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your
feet hit the ground they step on : They say he has
been fencer to the Sophy.
Sir And. I'll not meddle with him.
Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified :
Fabian can scarce hold him yonder.
Sir And. Plague on't ; an I thought he had been
valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have seen him
hanged ere I'd have challenged him. Let him let
the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey
Capilet.
Sir To. I'll make the motion : Stand here, make
a good show on't ; this shall end without the per-
dition of souls. Marry, I'll ride your horse as well
as I ride you. [Aside.
Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA.
I have his horse [To FAB.] to take up the quarrel ;
I have persuaded liim, the youth's a devil.
Fab. He is as horribly conceited of him; and
pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels.
Sir To. There's no remedy, sir ; he will fight with
you for his oath's sake : marry, he hath better be-
thought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now
scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for
5 Stoccato, an Italian term in fencing.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
79
the supportance of his vow; he protests, he will
not hurt you.
Vio. Pray heaven defend me ! A little thing
would make me tell them how much I lack of a
man. [Aside.
Fab. Give ground, if you see him furious.
Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no remedy ;
the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one
bout with you : he cannot by the duello 6 avoid it :
but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and
a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on ; to't.
Sir And. Pray heaven, he keep his oath ! [Draws.
Enter ANTONIO.
Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my will. [Draws.
Ant. Put up your sword ; if this young gentleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me ;
If you offend him, I for him defy you. [Drawing.
Sir To. You, sir ? why, what are you ?
Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more
Than you have heard him brag to you he will.
Sir To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for
you. [Draws.
Enter two Officers.
Fab. O good sir Toby, hold ; here come the officers.
Sir To. I'll be with you anon. [To ANTONIO.
Vio. Pray, sir, put up your sword if you please.
[To Sir ANDREW.
Sir And. Marry, will I, sir ; and, for that I
promised you, I'll be as good as my word : He will
bear you easily, and reins well.
1 Off. This is the man, do thy office.
2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit
Of Count Orsino.
Ant. You do mistake me, sir.
1 Off. No, sir, no jot ; I know your favour well,
Though now you have no sea-cap on your head.
Take him away ; he knows, I know him well.
Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you;
But there's no remedy ; I shall answer it.
What will you do ? Now my necessity
flakes me to ask you for my purse : It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd ;
But be of comfort.
2 Off. Come, sir, away.
Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money.
Fio. What money, sir ?
For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble,
Out of my lean and low ability
'11 lend you something : my having is not much ;
I'll make division of my present with you :
Hold, there is half my coffer.
Ant. Will you deny me now ?
Is't possible, that my deserts to you
Can lack persuasion ? Do not tempt my misery,
Lest that it make me so unsound a man,
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses
That I have done for you.
Vio. I know of none ;
Nor know I you by voice, or any feature :
I hate ingratitude more in a man,
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.
Ant. O heavens themselves !
2 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go.
Ant. Let me speak a little. This youth that you
see here,
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ;
Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love,
And to his image, which, methought, did promise
Most venerable worth, did I devotion.
1 Off. What's that to us? The time goes by ; away.
Ant. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god !
Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame.
In nature there's no blemish, but the mind ;
None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind :
Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous evil
Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil.
1 Off. The man grows mad ; away with him.
Come, come, sir.
Ant. Lead me on. [Exeunt Officers, with ANTONIO.
Vio. Methinks, his words do from such passions fly,
That he believes himself; so do not I.
Prove true, imagination, O, prove true,
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you !
Sir To. Come hither, knight ; come hither,
Fabian ; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most
sage saws.
Vio. He nam'd Sebastian ; I my brother know
Yet living in my glass ; even such, and so,
In favour was my brother ; and he went
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament,
For him I imitate : O, if it prove,
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! [Exit.
Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more
a coward than a hare : his dishonesty appears in
leaving his friend here in necessity, and denying
him ; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian.
Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, religious
in i i .
Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat him.
Sir To. Do, cuff him soundly, but never draw
thy sword.
Sir And. An I do not, [Exit.
Fab. Come, let's see the event.
Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing
yet. [Exeunt*
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Tlie Street before Olivia's House.
Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown.
Clo. Will you make me believe, that I am not
sent for you ?
Seb. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ;
Let me be clear of thee.
6 Laws of duel
Clo. Well held out, i'faith ! No, I do not know
you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid
you come speak with her; nor your name is not
master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither.
Nothing, that is so, is so.
Seb. 1 pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else ;
Thou know'st not me.
Clo. Vent my folly ! He has heard that word of
80
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT IV.
some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent
my folly ! I am afraid this great lubber, the world,
will prove a cockney. I pr'ythee now ungird thy
strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my
lady : Shall I vent to her, that thou art coming ?
Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from me ;
There's money for thee ; if you tarry longer,
1 shall give worse payment.
Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand :
These wise men, that give fools money, get them-
selves a good report after fourteen years' purchase.
Enter Sir ANDREW, Sir TOBY, and FABIAN.
Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? there's
for you. [Striking SEBASTIAN.
Seb. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there :
Are all the people mad ? [Seating Sir ANDREW.
Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er
the house.
Clo. This will I tell my lady straight : I would
not be in some of your coats for two-pence.
[Exit Clown.
Sir To. Come on, sir ; hold. [Holding SEBASTIAN.
Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another way
to work with him ; I'll have an action of battery
against him, if there be any law in Illyria : though
I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that.
Seb. Let go thy hand.
Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come,
my young soldier, put up your iron : you are well
fleshed ; come on.
Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou
know?
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
[Draws.
Sir To. What, what ? Nay, then I must have an
ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [Draws.
Enter OLIVIA.
OH. Hold, Toby ; on thy life, I charge thee hold.
Sir To. Madam?
Oli. Will it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd ! out of my sight,
Be not offended, dear Cesario :
Rudesby 7, be gone ! I pr'ythee, gentle friend,
[Exeunt Sir TOBY, Sir ANDREW, and FABIAN.
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and unjust extent 8
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ;
And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks
This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby
May'st smile at this : thou shalt not choose but go ;
Do not deny : Beshrew his soul for me,
He started one poor heart of mine in thee.
Seb. What relish is in this ? how runs the stream ?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream :
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep !
Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee : 'Would thou'dst be
rul'd by me !
Seb. Madam, I will.
Oli. O, say so, and so be !
[Exeunt.
SCENE II A Room in Olivia's House.
Enter MARIA and Clown.
Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and this
beard ; make him believe, thou art sir Topas, the
7 Rude fellow. * Violence.
curate ; do it quickly : I'll call sir Toby the
whilst. [Exit MARIA.
Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble
myself in't ; I am not tall enough to become the
function well : nor lean enough to be thought a
good student : but to be said, an honest man, and
a good housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to say, a
careful man, and a great scholar. The competitors 9
enter.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH and MARIA.
Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson.
Clo. Bonos dies, sir Toby : for as the old hermit
of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily
said to a niece of king Gorboduc, That, that is, is ;
so I, being master parson, am master parson ; For
what is that, but that ? and is, but is ?
Sir To. To him, sir Topas.
Clo. What, hoa, I say, Peace in this prison !
Sir To- The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave.
Mai. [In an inner chamber.] Who calls there ?
Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit
Malvolio the lunatick.
Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, go
to my lady.
Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest thou
this man ? talkest thou nothing but of ladies ?
Sir To. Well said, master parson.
Mai. Sir Topas, never was a man thus wronged :
good sir Topas, do not think I am mad ; they have
laid me here in hideous darkness.
Clo. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan ! I call thee by
the most modest terms; for I am one of those
gentle ones, that will use the devil himself with
courtesy : Say'st thou, that house is dark ?
Mai. As hell, sir Topas.
Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows transparent as
barricadoes, and the clear stones towards the south-
north are as lustrous as ebony ; and yet complainest
thou of obstruction ?
Mai. I am not mad, sir Topas ; I say to you, this
house is dark.
Clo. Madman, thou errest : I say, there is no
darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art more
puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog.
Mai. I say, this house is as dark as ignorance,
though ignorance were as dark as hell ; and I say,
there was never man thus abused : I am no more
mad than you are ; make the trial of it in any con-
stant question. l
Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras, con-
cerning wild-fowl ?
Mai. That the soul of our grandam might haply
inhabit a bird.
Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion ?
Mai. I think nobly of the soul, and no way
approve his opinion ?
Clo. Fare thee well : Remain thou still in dark-
ness : thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras,
ere I will allow of thy wits ; and fear to kill a wood-
cock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam.
Fare thee well.
Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas,
Sir To. My most exquisite sir Topas !
Clo. Nay, I am for all .waters. 2
Mar. Thou might'st have done this without thy
beard, and gown ; he sees thee not.
Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me
9 Confederates. ' Regular conversation.
2 Any other Gem as well as a Topaz.
SCENE II.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
81
word how thou fmdest him : I would, we were well
rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently
delivered, I would he were ; for I am now so far in
offence with my niece, that I cannot pursue with
any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and
by to my chamber. [Exeunt Sir Tom and MARIA.
Clo. Hey Robin, jolly llobin.
Tell me how thy lady does. [Singing.
Mai. Fool.
Clo. Afy lady is unkind, perdy.
Mai. Fool.
Clo. Alas, why is she so ?
Mai. Fool, I say ;
Clo. She loves another Who calls, ha ?
Mai- Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at
my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and
paper ; as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thank-
ful to thee for't.
Clo. Master Malvolio !
Mai. Ay, good fool.
Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?
Mai. Fool, there was never man so notoriously
abused : I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art.
Clo. But as well ? then you are mad, indeed, if
you be no better in your wits than a fool.
Mai. They have here propertied me ; keep me
in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all
they can to face me out of my wits.
Clo. Advise you what you say ; the minister is
here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens
restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy
vain bibble babble.
Mai. Sir Topas
Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.
Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, good sir
Topas. Marry, amen. I will, sir, I will.
Mai. Fool, fool, fool, I say,
Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I
am shent 3 for speaking to you.
Mai. Good fool, help me to some light, and some
paper ; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any
man in lllyria.
Clo. Well -a- day, that you were, sir !
Mai. By this hand I am : Good fool, some ink,
paper, and light, and convey what I will set down
to my lady ; it shall advantage thee more than ever
the bearing of letter did.
Clo. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are
you not mad indeed ? or do you but counterfeit ?
Mai. Believe me, I am not ; I tell thee true.
Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till I see
his brains. I will fetch you light, and paper, and ink.
Mai. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree :
I pr'ythee, be gone.
Clo. / am gone, sir,
And anon, sir,
I'll be with you again,
In a trice;
Like to the old vice 4
Your need to sustain.
Who with dagger of lath,
In his rage and his wrath,
Cries, ah, ha ! to the devil :
Like a mad lad,
Pare thy nails, dad.
Adieu, goodman drival.
SCENE III. Olivia's Garden.
Enter SEBASTIAN.
[Exit.
Seb. This' is the air ; that is the glorious sun ;
This pearl she gave me, 1 do feel't and see't :
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then ?
I could not find him at the Elephant :
Yet there he was ; and there I found this credit 5 ,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service :
For though my soul disputes well with my sense,
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad,
Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if 'twere so,
She could not sway her house, command her fol-
lowers,
Take, and give back, affairs and their despatch,
With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing,
As, I perceive, she does : there's something in't,
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady.
Enter OLIVIA and a Priest.
Oli. Blame not this haste of mine : If you mean
well, '
Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chantry by : there, before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Tlight me the full assurance of your faith ;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace : He shall conceal it,
Wliiles 6 you are willing it shall come to note ;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth. What do you say ?
Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with you ;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.
Oli. Then lead the way, good father ; And
heaven to shine,
That they may fairly note this act of mine !
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. _ The Street before Olivia's House.
Enter Clown and FABIAN.
Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter.
Clo. Good master Fabian, grant me another re-
quest.
Fab. Any thing.
3 Scolded, reprimanded
Clo. Do not desire to see this letter.
Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense,
desire my dog again.
Enter DUKE, VIOLA, and Attendants.
Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends ?
* A buffoon character in the old plays, and father of the
modern harlequin. * Account 6 UntiL
G
82
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT V.
Clo. Ay, sir ; we are some of her trappings.
Duke. I know thee well ; How dost thou, my
good fellow ?
Clo. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and the
worse for my friends.
Duke. Just the contrary ; the better for thy
friends.
Clo. No, sir, the worse.
Duke. How can that be ?
Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make an ass
of me ; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass : so
that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of
myself; and by my friends I am abused: so that,
conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives
make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for
my friends, and the better for my foes.
Duke. Why, this is excellent.
do. By my troth, sir, no ; though it please you
to be one of my friends.
Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me ; there's
gold.
Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I
would you could make it another.
Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.
Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this
once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Duke. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a
double-dealer ; there's another.
Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play ; and
the old saying is, the third pays for all : the triplex,
sir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of
St. Bennet, sir, may put you in mind : One, two,
three.
Duke. You can fool no more money out of me at
this throw : if you will let your lady know, I am
here to speak with her, and bring her along with
you, it may awake my bounty further.
Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come
again. I go, sir ; but I would not have you to
think, that my desire of having is the sin of covetous-
ness : but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a
nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit Clown.
Enter ANTONIO and Officers.
Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me.
Duke. That face of his I do remember well ;
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war :
A bawbling vessel was he captain of,
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable ;
With which such scathful grapple did he make
With the most noble bottom of our fleet,
That very envy, and the tongue of loss,
Cry'd fame and honour on him. What's the matter?
1 Off. Orsino, this is that Antonio,
That took the Phoenix, and her fraught? from
Candy ;
And this is he, that did the Tiger board,
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg :
Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and state,
In private brabble did we apprehend him.
Vio. He did me kindness, sir ; drew on my side ;
But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon me,
I know not what 'twas, but distraction.
Duke. Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief !
What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies,
Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies ?
Ant. Orsino, noble sir,
7 Freight.
Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me ;
Antonio never yet was thief, or pirate,
Though, I confess, on base and ground enough,
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither :
That most ingrateful boy there, by your side,
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth
Did I redeem ; a wreck past hope he was :
His life I gave him, and did thereto add
My love, without retention, or restraint,
All his in dedication : for his sake,
Did I expose myself, pure for his love,
Into the danger of this adverse town ;
Drew to defend him, when he was beset ;
Where being apprehended, his false cunning,
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,)
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance,
And grew a twenty-years-removed thing,
While one would wink ; denied me mine own purse,
Which I had recommended to his use
Not half an hour before.
Vio. * How can this be ?
Duke. When came he to this town ?
Ant. To-day, my lord; and for three months
before,
(No interim, not a minute's vacancy,)
Both day and night did we keep company.
Enter OLIVIA and Attendants.
Duke. Here comes the countess ; now heaven
walks on earth.
But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are madness :
Three months this youth hath tended upon me ;
But more of that anon. Take him aside.
OH. What would my lord, but that he may not
have,
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me.
Vio* Madam ?
Duke. Gracious Olivia,
OH. What do you say, Cesario ? Good my
lord,
Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.
Oli. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as fat 8 and fulsome to mine ear,
As howling after musick.
Duke. Still so cruel ?
Oli. Still so constant, lord.
Duke. What ! to perverseness ? you uncivil lady,
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars
My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breath 'd out,
That e'er devotion tender'd ! What shall I do ?
Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall be-
come him.
Duke. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death,
Kill what I love ; a savage jealousy,
That sometime savours nobly? But hear me this :
Since you to non-regardance cast my faith,
And that I partly know the instrument
That screws me from my true place in your favour,
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, still ;
But this your minion, whom, I know, you love,
And whom, by heaven, I swear, I tender dearly,
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye,
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite.
Come boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in mis-
chief:
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do lo\e,
To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going.
* Dull, gross.
SCENE 1.
OK, WHAT YOU WILL.
]"m. And [, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
[Folloiving.
Oli. Where goes Cesario ?
I'io- After him I love,
More than I love these eyes, more than my life,
More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife :
It' I do feign, you witnesses above,
Punish my life, for tainting of my love !
Oli. Ah me, detested ! how am I beguil'd !
Via. Who does beguile you ? who does do you
wrong ?
Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself! Is it so long !
Call forth the holy father. [Exit an Attendant.
Duke. Come away. [To VIOLA.
Oli. Whither, my lord ? Cesario, husband, stay.
Duke. Husband?
Oli. Ay, husband ; Can he that deny ?
Duke. Her husband, sirrah ?
Vio. No, my lord, not I.
Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear,
That makes thee strangle thy propriety :
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up ;
Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art
As great as that thou fear'st. O, welcome, father !
Re-enter Attendant and Priest.
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence,
Here to unfold (though lately we intended
To keep in darkness, what occasion now
Reveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know
Hath newly past between this youth and me.
Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm 'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings ;
And all the ceremony of this compact
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony:
Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my
grave,
I have travel I'd but two hours.
Duke. O, thou dissembling cub ! what wilt thou be,
When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case ?
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow,
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow ?
Farewell, and take her ; but direct thy feet,
W he re thou and I henceforth may never meet.
Vio. My lord, I do protest,
Oli. O, do not swear ;
Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.
Enter Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK, with his head
broke.
Sir And. For the love of heaven, a surgeon ;
end one presently to sir Toby.
Oli. What's the matter?
Sir And. He has broke my head across, and lias
given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too : for the love
<>f heaven, your help : I had rather than forty
pound, I were at home.
Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew ?
"7. The count's gentleman, one Cesario :
ok him for a coward, but he's the very devil
ineardinate.
ly gentleman, Cesario!
/. Od's lifelings, here he is : You broke
my head for nothing ; and that that I did, I was set
i't l.y sir Toby,
' hy do you speak to me? I never hurt you :
You drew your sword upon me, without cause;
Hut I bespnke you fair, and hurt you not.
Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you
have hurt me; I think, you set nothing by a bloody
coxcomb.
Enter Sir TOBY BELCH, drunk, led by the Clown.
Here comes sir Toby halting, you shall hear more :
but if he had not been in drink, he would have
tickled you othergates 9 than he did.
Duke. How now, gentleman ? how is't with you ?
Sir To. That's all one; he has hurt me, and
there's the end on't. Sot, did'st see Dick surgeon,
sot?
Clo. O he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; his
eyes were set at eight i'the morning.
Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy-measures
pavin ' ; I hate a drunken rogue.
Oli. Away with him : Who hath made this havock
with them?
Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because we'll
be dressed together.
Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a cox-
comb, and a knave? a thin-faced knave, a gull?
Oli. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to.
[Exeunt Clown, Sir TOBY, and Sir ANDREW.
Enter SEBASTIAN.
Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kins-
man ;
But had it been the brother of my blood,
I must have done no less, with wit, and safety.
You throw a strange regard upon me, and
By that I do perceive it hath offended you ;
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows
We made each other but so late ago.
Duke. One face, one voice, one habit, and two
persons ;
A natural perspective, that is, and is not.
Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio !
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me,
Since I have lost thee !
Ant. Sebastian are you?
Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio ?
Ant. How have you made division of yourself?
An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian ?
Oli. Most wonderful !
Seb. Do I stand there ? I never had a brother :
Nor can there be that deity in my nature,
Of here and every where. I had a sister,
Whom the blind waves and surges have de\ our'd :
Of charity, what kin are you to me ? [ To Vior.A.
What countryman ? what name? what parent.-.
Vio. OfMessaline: Sebastian was my fath.
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his water}' tomb :
If spirits can assume both form and suit,
You come to fright us.
Seb. A spirit I am, indeed ;
But am in that dimension trrovly clad,
Which from the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest ^oe^
I should my tears let fall upon your eheek,
And say 'Thrice welcome, diown'd Viola!
Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.
Seb. And so had mine.
Vio. And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had nnmber'd thirteen years.
Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul !
Otherways.
G 2
1 Serious dance*.
TWELFTH NIGHT:
ACT V.
He finished, indeed, his mortal act.
That day that made my sister thirteen years.
Vio. If nothing lets to make us happy both,
But this my masculine usurp'd attire,
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump,
That I am Viola : which to confirm,
I'll bring you to a captain in this town,
Where lie my maiden weeds ; by whose gentle help
I was preserv'd, to serve this noble count :
All the occurrence of my fortune since
Hath been between this lady and this lord.
Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been mistook :
[To OLIVIA.
But nature to her bias drew in that.
You would have been contracted to a maid ;
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived,
You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
Duke. Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood
I f this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wreck :
Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,
[To VIOLA.
Thou never should'st love woman like to me.
Vio. And all those sayings will I over-swear ;
And all those swearings keep as true in soul,
As doth that orbed continent the fire
That severs day from night.
Duke. Give me thy hand ;
And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds.
Vio. The captain, that did bring me first on shore,
Hath my maid's garments : he, upon some action,
Is now in durance ; at Malvolio's suit,
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's.
0/i. He shall enlarge him; Fetch Malvolio
hither :
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.
Re-enter Clown, with a Letter.
A most extracting frenzy of mine own
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his.
How does he, sirrah ?
Clo. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the
stave's end, as well as a man in his case may do : he
has here writ a letter to you ; I should have given
it to you to-day morning ; but as a madman's epis-
tles are no gospels, so it skills not much, when they
are delivered.
OIL Open it, and read it.
Clo. Look then to be well edified, when the fool
delivers the madman : By the Lord, madam,
Oli. How now ! art thou mad ?
Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness : an your
ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must
allow vox." 2
Oli. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits.
Clo. So I do, madonna ; but to read his right
wits, is to read thus : therefore perpend 3 , my prin-
cess, and give ear.
Oli. Read it you, sirrah. [To FABIAN.
Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, 'madam, you wrong
me, and the world shall know it : though you have
put me into darkness, and given your drunken cousin
rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as
well as your ladyship. I have your oivn letter that
induced me to the semblance I put on ; with the
which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or
* Voice.
3 Attend.
you much shame. Think of me as you please. I
leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of
my injury. The madly used MALVOLIO.
Oil. Did he write this ?
Clo. Ay, madam.
Duke. This savours not much of distraction.
Oli. See him deliver'd, Fabian ; bring him hither.
[Exit FABIAN.
My lord, so please you, these things further thought
on,
To think me as well a sister as a wife,
One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you,
Here at my house, and at my proper cost.
Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace your
offer.
Your master quits you : [ To VIOLA] and, for your
service done him,
So much against the mettle 4 of your sex,
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding,
And since you call'd me master for so long,
Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.
Oli. A sister ? you are she.
Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO.
Duke. Is this the madman ?
OK* Ay, my lord, the same :
How now, Malvolio?
Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong,
Notorious wrong.
Oli. Have I Malvolio ? no.
Mai. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter :
You must not now deny it is your hand,
Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase ;
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor your invention :
You can say none of this : Well, grant it then,
And tell me, in the modesty of honour,
Why you have given me such clear lights of favour ;
Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to you,
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown
Upon sir Toby, and the lighter people :
And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geek 5 , and gull,
That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why.
Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing,
Though I confess much like the character :
But out of question, 'tis Maria's hand.
And now I do bethink me, it was she
First told me, thou wast mad ; then cam'st in smiling,
And in such forms which here were presuppos'd
Upon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content :
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee ;
But when we know the grounds and authors of it,
Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge
Of thine own cause.
Fab. Good madam, hear me speak j
And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come,
Taint the condition of this present hour,
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myself, and Toby,
Set this device against Malvolio here,
Upon some stubborn and un courteous parts
We had conceived against him : Maria writ
The letter, at sir Toby's great importance 6 ;
In recompense whereof, he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd,
4 Frame and constitution.
6 Importunity.
& Fool.
SCENE I.
OR, WHAT YOU WILL.
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge;
II that the- injuries be justly weiglfd,
That have on both sides past.
Oti. Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled lliee .'
Clo. "W 'hy, some are born great, some ac/tifve great-
ness, and some have greatness Lln-nirn t</nt them. I
was one, sir, in this interlude; one sir Topas, sir;
but that's all one : liy the Lord, fool, I am not
mad ; But do you remember ? Madam, why laugh
you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's
X<t,^d: And thus the whirligig of time brings in
his revenges.
Mai. I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.
[Exit.
OH. He hath been most notoriously abus'd.
D ike. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace :
He hath not told us of the captain yet ;
When that is known and golden time convents,?
A solemn combination shall be made
Of our dear souls Mean time, sweet sister,
We will not part from hence. Cesario, come,
7 Shall lerve.
For so you shall be, while you are a man :
But, when in other habits you are seen,
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen. [Exeunt*
SONG.
Clo. When that I was and a little tiny boy,
II 'it It /icy, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it rainclh every day.
But when I come to mans estate,
If 'ilk hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
* Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate,
For the rain it rainclh every dm/.
Hut when I came, alas I to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and tin: rain,
Jiy swaggering could I never thrive.
For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun,
Witlt hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every dm/.
[Exit.
G 3
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
VINCENTIO, Duke of Vienna.
ANGELO, Lord Deputy in the Duke's absence.
ESCALUS, an ancient Lord, joined urith Angelo in the
deputation.
CLAUDIO, a young Gentleman.
Lucio, a Fantastic.
Two other like Gentlemen.
VARRIUS, a Gentleman, Servant to tfie Duke.
Provost.
ELBOW, a simple Con&tatfc.
CLOWN, Servant to Mrs. Overdone.
ABHORSON, an Executioner.
BARNARDINE, a dissolute Prisoner.
ISABELLA, Sister to Claudia.
MARIANA, betrotlied to Angelo.
JULIET, beloved by Claudia.
FRANCISCA, a Nun.
Mistress OVERDONE.
Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other
Attendants.
SCENE, Vienna.
ROYAL 1)DKE !
MEASURE FOR MEASURE
'KEFACE TO MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
THIS comedy contains scenes which are truly
worthy of the first of dramatic poets. Isabella
pleading with Angelo in behalf of mercy to her
brother, and afterwards insisting that his life must
not be purchased by the sacrifice of her chastity,
is an object of such interest, as to make the reader
desirous of overlooking the many great defects
which are to be found in other parts of this play.
The story is little suited to a comedy. The wicked-
ness of Angelo is so atrocious, that I recollect only
one instance of a similar kind being recorded in
history * ; and that is considered by many persons
as of doubtful authority. His crimes, indeed, are
not completed, but lie supposes them to be so;
and his guilt is as great as it would have been, if
the person of Isabella had been violated, and the
head of Ragozine had been Claudio's This mon-
ster of iniquity appears before the Duke, defending
his cause with unblushing boldness ; and after the
detection of his crimes, he can scarcely be said to
receive any punishment. A hope is even expressed
that he will prove a good husband, but for no good
reason namely, because he has been a little bad.
Angelo abandoned his contracted wife for the most
despicable of all reasons, the loss of her fortune.
He added to his guilt not only insensibility to her
affliction, but the detestable aggravation of injuring
her reputation by an unfounded slander ; ascribing
his desertion of Mariana to levity in her conduct,
of which she never was guilty. He afterwards
betrayed the trust reposed in him by the Duke.
He threatened Isabella that if she would not sur-
render her virtue, he would not merely put her
brother to death, but make
" His death draw out to lingering sufferance."
* Kirk.
And, finally, when he thought his object accom-
plished, he ordered Claudio to be murdered, in
violation of his most solemn engagements.
These are the crimes, which, in the language of
Mariana, are expressed by the words a little bad;
and with a perfect knowledge of Angelo's having
committed them, she
Craves no other, nor no better man."
Claudio's life having been preserved by the Pro
vost, it would not, perhaps, have been lawful
have put Angelo to death ; but the Duke might
with great propriety have addressed him in the
words of Bolingbroke to Exton :
,
Go, wander through the shades of night,
And never show thy head by day nor light"
,
Other parts of the play are not without faults.
The best characters act too much upon a system
duplicity and falsehood ; and the Duke, in the fi
act, trifles cruelly with the feelings of Isabella,
allowing her to suppose her brother to be dead
much longer than the story of the play required.
Lucio is inconsistent as well as profligate. He
appears, in the first act, as the friend of Claudio,
and in the fifth he assists the cause of Angelo,
whom he supposes to be his murderer. Lastly,
the indecent expressions with which many of the
scenes abound are so interwoven with the story,
that it is extremely difficult to separate the one
from the other.
I trust, however, that I have succeeded in doing
it, and I should not be sorry if the merit or demerit
of the whole work were to be decided by the exa-
mination of this very extraordinary Play, as it is
now printed in the Family Shakspeare.
ACT I. SCENE I.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT I.
SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, ESCALUS, and Lords.
Duke. Escalus,
Esc. 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 \ve remember : There is our commission,
From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,
I say, bid come before us Angelo.
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 deputations all the organs
Of our own power : What think you of it ?
Esc. 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.
Ang. 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 tlu'ne own so proper, as to waste
Thyself upon thy virtues, them 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
I lerself the glory of a creditor,
Both thanks and use ; but I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him advertise ;
Hold, therefore, Angelo:
In our remove, be thou at full ourself ;
Moitality and mercy in Vienna
Li\e in thy tongue and heart: Old Escalus,
Though first in question, is thy secondary.
Take thy commission.
Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle,
He tore so noble and so great a figure
amp'd upon it.
Duke. No more evasion :
We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
riled to you ; therefore take your honours.
Our haste from "hence is of so quick condition,
I'h.it it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd
M.utcis ,,f needful value. We shall write t, \ou.
As time anil our conccrnings shall importune,
How it goes with us, and do look to know
What doth befall you here. So, fare you wcl! :
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 !
.Esc. Lead forth, and bring you back in happiness !
Duke. I thank you. Fare you well. [J-'.i-ii.
Esc. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave
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.
Esc. I'll wait upon your honour.
[AtfKflfc
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 st Gent. Heaven grant us its peace ; but not the
king of Hungary's !
2d Gent. Amen.
Lucio. Thou concludest like the sanctimonious
pirate, that went to sea with the ten command-
ments, but scraped one out of the table.
2d Gent. Thou shalt not steal ?
Lucio. Ay, that he razed.
1st Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to com-
mand the captain and all the rest from their func-
tions ; 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.
2d Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it.
I.vcio. t believe thee; for, I think, thou iK\er
wast where grace was said. But see, where .Madam
MitjgationjNom.es .
Enter Mrs. OVERDONE.
Overdone. There's one yonder, arrested and car-
ried to prison, was worth live thousand of you all.
1st. Gent. Who's that, I pray tl;
,/. Marry sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.
1st Gent. Claudio to prison .' 'tis not so.
(herd. Nay, but I know 'tis so : I saw him ar-
rested ; saw him carried away ; and, which is more,
within these thiee days his head's to he chopped oil'.
/ Dut, after all this fooling, I would not
have it so : art thou sure of tl
G 4
88
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT I.
Overd. I am too sure of it ; and it is on account
of Madam Juliette.
Lucio. Believe me, this may be : he promised
to meet me two hours since ; and he was ever pre-
cise in promise-keeping.
2d Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something
near to the speech we had to such a purpose.
Is; Gent. But most of all, agreeing with the
proclamation.
Lucio. Away ; let's go learn the truth of it.
[Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen.
Overd. Thus, what with the war, what with the
gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-
shrunk. How now ! what's the news with you ?
Enter Clown.
Cloum. You have not heard of the proclamation,
have you ?
Overd. What proclamation, man ?
Clown. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must
be pluck'd down.
'Overd. And what shall become of those in the
city?
Clown. They had gone down too, but that a wise
burgher put in for them.
Overd. But, shall all .our houses of resort in the
I suburbs be pulled down ?
Clown. To the ground, mistress.
Overd. Why, here's a change indeed in the com-
monwealth : what shall become of me ?
Clown. Come, fear not you ; good counsellors
lack no clients. Though you change your place ;
i you need not change your trade ; I'll be your
tapster still.
Overd. What's to do here ? Thomas Tapster let's
withdraw.
Clown. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the
provost to prison : and there's Madam Juliet.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The same.
Enter Provost, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers.
Claud. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to
the world. Bear me to prison, where I am com-
mitted.
Prov. I do it not in evil disposition,
But from lord Angelo by special charge.
Claud. Thus can the demigod, Authority,
Make us pay down for our offence by weight.
The words of heaven ; on whom it will, it will j
On whom it will not, so ; yet still 'tis just.
Enter Lucio.
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,
1 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 il ? murder ?
Claud. No.
Prov. Away, sir ; you must go.
Claud. One word, good friend : Lucio, a word
with you. [Takes him aside.
Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good.
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 propagation of a dower
Remaining in the coffer of her friends ;
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love,
Till time had made them for us. But it chances,
The stealth of our most miftnal intercourse,
With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
Lucio. With child, perhaps?
Claud. JJnhappily, 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, let's 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
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 j
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 encou-
ragement of the like, which else would stand under
grievous imposition ; as for the enjoying of thy life,
who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost.
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, hatli a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.
Fri. May your grace speak of it.
Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you
SCENE V.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
89
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 for head-strong steeds,)
Whk-h for these fourteen years we have let sleep ;
Even like an o'ergrown 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
Incomes more mock'd than fear'd : so our decrees,
1 Vad 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
1 or \\hat I bid them do : For we bid this be done,
When evil deeds have their permissive pass,
And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my
father,
1 have on Angelo impos'd the office ;
NVho may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the sight,
1<> do it 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
I low I may formally in person bear me
true friar. More reasons for this action,
At our more leisure shall I render you;
Only, this one : Lord Angelo is precise ;
at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses
Tliat his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone : Hence shall we see,
It power change purpose, what our seemers be.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Nunnery.
Fnt.-r ISABELLA and FRANCISCA.
I$ab. And have you nuns no further privileges ?
Fran. 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 saint Clare.
II"! Peace be in this place ! [ U'Miin.
/>"'' Who's that which calls ?
i. It is a man's voice : Gentle Isabella,
ruin \ou tin- key, ami know his business of him;
You | not ; you are yet unsworn :
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with
I'.ut 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.
Isdb. Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that calls?
Enter Lucio.
Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be ; as those cheek-roses
Proclaim you are no less ! Can you so stead me,
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A novice of this 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 :
Isab. Sir, make me not your story. l
Lucio. It is truet '
I hold you as a thing ensky'd, and sainted ;
By your renouncement an immortal spirit ;
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
As with a saint.
Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me
Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth a ,
'tis thus :
Your brother and his lover have embracd :
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. O, 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,
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 liim good ?
1 Do not make a jct of me.
2 In few and true word*.
3 Sentenced.
90
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT II.
Lucio. Assay the power you have.
Isab. My power ! Alas ! I doubt,
Lueio. 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 4 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.
ACT II.
SCENE I. A Hall in Angelo's House.
Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, Provost, Officers, and
other Attendants.
Ang. We 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 gentle-
man,
Whom I would save, had a most noble father.
Let but your honour know,
(Whom I believe to be most straight in virtue,)
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of your blood
Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not some time in your life
Err'd in this point which now you censure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.
An. '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 know the laws,
That thieves do pass on thieves ? 'Tis very pregnant,
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it,.
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 ?
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 prepared :
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.
[Exeunt ANGELO and Provost.
EscaL Well, heaven forgive him ; and forgive
us all !
Mercy is not itself that oft looks so,
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.
But yet, poor Claudio ! there's no remedy.
[Exit.
4 Have. 5 Because.
SCENE II. Another Room in the same.
Enter Provost and a Servant.
Serv. 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 :
Enter ANGELO.
Now, what's the matter, Provost ?
your will Claudio shall die to-
Ang.
Prov. Is it
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, wii^Jh^TOaning Juliet ?
Shfi^s vpry ppar h.pr hniir.
Ang. Dispose of her
To some more fitter place ; and that with speed.
Re-enter Servant.
Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'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, that Julietta be remov'd ;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ;
There shall be order for it.
Enter Lucio and ISABELLA.
Prov. Save your honour ! [Offering to retire.
Ang. Stay a little while. [To ISAB.] You 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 j
For which I must not plead, but that I ajm
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.
SCENE II.
An. Well; the matter?
Isab. I have a brother is comlemn'd to die :
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.
Prov. 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 find the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.
Isab. O just, but severe law !
I had a brother then. Heaven keep your honour !
[Retiring.
Lucia. [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 lie 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.
An'.i. He's. sentenc'd : 'tis too late.
l.ncio. You are too cold. [To ISABELLA.
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,
IK come them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt 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?
No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.
Lucio. Ay, touch him : there's the vein. [Aside.
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,
It' He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge* you as you are ? O, think on that ;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.
Be you content, fair moid ;
lie law, not I condemns your brother :
\\ i iv lie my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should lie thus with him; he must die to-morrow.
Isab. To-morrow ? O, that's sudden ! Spare him,
spare him :
ot prrpar'd for death !
jjtxnl my lord, bethink you :
Who is it that hath died for this olleiice ?
There'- many ha\e i unlimited it.
Lit Ay, well baid.
Ang. The law hath nut been dead, though it
hath slept :
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
91
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man that did the 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,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where 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 sen-
tence ;
And he, that suffers : O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.
Lucio. That's well said.
Isab. Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting 6 , 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 7 oak,
Than the soft myrtle ; O, but man, proud man !
Drest in a little brief authority ;
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep;
Luc. O, to him, to him, wench : he will relent ;
He's coming, I perceive't.
Prov. Pray heaven she win him !
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with yourself:
Great men may jest with saints : 'tis wit in them ;
But, in the less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl ; more o' that.
Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio. Art advis'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' the 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. She speaks, and 'ti>
Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. 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. You had marr'd all el-e.
Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested 8 gold.
Paltry.
Knotted.
Stamped.
92
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 9 souls.
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.
Ang. Well : come to me
To-morrow.
Lucio. Go to ; it is well ; away. [Aside to ISAB.
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe !
Ang. Amen : for I
Am that way going to temptation, [Aside.
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 ? O, fye, fye, fye !
What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo ?
O, 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 ?
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
Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite ; Ever, till now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.
[Exit.
SCENE III. A Room 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,
1 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 : Shejs wfth childh
Ajid he that owns it sentenced.
lJufce.' When must he die ?
Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.
I have provided for you; stay awhile, [To JULIET.
And you shall be conducted.
9 Preserved from the corruption of the world.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT II.
Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry ?
Juliet. I do ; and bear the shame most patiently.
Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your
conscience,
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'd not spare heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear.
Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil ;
And take the shame with joy.
Duke. There rest,
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace go with you ! JBenedicite ! [Exit.
Juliet. Must die to-morrow ! O, injurious love,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror !
Prov. 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House.
Enter ANGELO.
Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and
pray
To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ;
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel : Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name ;
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception : The state, whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot l , change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place ! O form !
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming ?
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, y
And dispossessing all the other parts
Of necessary fitness ?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive : and even so
The general 2 , 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.
Profit. 2 The people.
I
SCENE IV.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
93
leasure,
much
Enter ISABELLA.
w How now, fair maid ?
Jsab. I am come to know your pi
Ang. That you might know it, would
better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
hai>. Even so ? Heaven keep your honour !
[Retiring.
Aug. 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,
This his soul sicken not.
Ang. Ha! fye, 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.
Ixub. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
An. 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 personal
As she that. hP hntl
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 accompt.
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,
I leaven, 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 igno-
rant,
Or seem so, craftily ; and that's 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 3 lx?auty 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.
Aug. Admit uo other way to save his life,
I subscribe not tnat, nor any other,
Hut in the loss of question,) that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
> Covered.
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-binding law ; and that there were
No earthly mean to save him, but that either
You must lay dflwj tha tranriiran nr'nmi uui.uu
To this SUT
"WTuIFwoul
, or else let him suffer,
you do?"
Isab. As much for my poor brother as myself:
That is, were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My honour up to shame.
Ang. Then must your brother die
Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way :
Better it were, a brother died at once,
Than that a sister, by redeeming liim,
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. O, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean :
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab. Else let my brother die,
If not a feodary 4 , but only he,
Owe 5 , and succeed by weakness.
Ang. Nay, women are frail too.
Isab. Ay,astheglasseswhere 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. 6
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 wan-ants,) 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 it.
An",. He shall not, Isabel, if you give n;e love.
Isab. I know your virtue hath a ITcence 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.
Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
4 Associate. 5 Own. 6 Impression*.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT III.
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 :
Lay by all nicety ; redeem thy brother
By yielding up tliy perspji4o 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 shall 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 the 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 person 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.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A Room in the Prison.
Enter Duke, CLAUDIO, and Provost.
Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
Angelo ?
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope :
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.
Duke. Be absolute for death : either death, or life,
Shal 1 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 skiey 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 the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Arenurs'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,
A nd 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 art poor ;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee : Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo p , 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 palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths : yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
7 Affects, affections.
Leprous eruptions.
Claud. 1 humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die ;
And seeking death, find life : Let it come on.
Enter ISABELLA.
Isab. What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and good
company !
Prov. Who's there ? come in : the wish deserves
a welcome.
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud- Most holy sir, I thank you.
Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's
your sister.
Duke. Provost, a word with you.
Prov. As many as you please.
Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be
conceal'd,
Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; most good in deed :
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift embassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting lieger 9 :
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 fastidity you had,
To a determined 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. O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
9 Resident.
SCENE I.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
Tlii; sense of deatli is most in apprehension ;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when ;i giant dies.
Claud. Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness ? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
A ml hug it in mine arms.
hub. 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'the head, and follies doth enmew,
As falcon doth the fowl. is yet a devil ;
Claud. The princely Angelo?
Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The vilest body to invest and cover
In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
It' I would yiejd him my, jyjrginjty,
"Thou mi-ht'st bu freed?
* 'Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be.
hub. Yes, he would give it 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.
tsali. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
nikly as a pin.
Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.
1 !e ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sin ;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isnb. Wliich is the least ?
Claud. If it wera damnable, he, being so wise,
Why, would he for the momentary trick
lie perdurably fin'd? O Isabel !
Isab. What says my brother ?
Claud. Death is a fearful thing.
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 regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
Tlie pendent world ; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
ine howling ! 'tis too horrible !
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
e, ach, penury, and imprisonment
iy on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
'. Alas ! alas !
Ch'i'd. Sweet sister, let me live :
What sin you do to save a brother's life,
with the deed so far,
1 hat it In comei a virtue.
< ), faithless coward ! O, dishonest wretch !
"ilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kii ; to take life
From thine own sister's shame?
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. O, fye, fye, fye :
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade :
'Tis best that thou diest quickly. [Going.
Claud. O hear me, Isabella.
Re-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 awhile.
Duke. [To CLAUDIO, aside. ] Son, I have over-
heard what hath past between you and your sister.
Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only
he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise
his judgment with the disposition of natures; she,
having the truth of honour in 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.
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.
Re-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 pro-
mises 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, should 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
would you do to content this substitute, and to
save your brother ?
Isab. I am now going to resolve him : I had
rather my brother die by the law, than my son
should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is
the good duke deceived in Angelo ! If ever he
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 accus-
ation ; he made trial of you only. Therefore,
asten your ear on my advisings : to the love I
lave in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I
lo make myself believe, that you may most up-
righteously do a poor wronged lady a merited
96
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
ACT III.
benefit ; redeem your brother from the angry law ;
do no stain to your own gracious person ; and
much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he
shall ever return to have hearing of this business.
Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have
spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the
truth of my spirit.
Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fear-
ful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana the
sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscar-
ried at sea ?
Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words
went with her name.
Duke. Her 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 wrecked
at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of
his sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to the
poor gentlewoman : there she lost a noble and re-
nowned brother, in his love toward her ever most
kind and natural ; with him the portion and sinew
of her fortune, her marriage-dowry ; with both, her
combinate l husband, this well seeming Angelo.
Isab. Can this be so ? Did Angelo so leave her ?
Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of
them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole,
pretending in her discoveries of dishonour : in few,
bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she
yet wears for his sake ; and he, a marble to her 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 :
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 un-
kindness, that in all reason should have quenched
her love, hath, like an impediment in the current,
made it more violent and unruly. Go you to 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 lum 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, 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
scaled. * The maid will I frame, and make fit for
his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you
may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit
from 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 
