The family Shakspeare ... in which nothing is added to the original text; but those words and expressions are omitted which cannot with propriety be read aloud in a family ..

HENRY D'ESTERRE HEMSWORTII.

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University of California • Berkeley

Gift of
Professor Steve Tollefson

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IVIicrosoft Corporation

Iittp://www.archive.org/details/familyslial<speare01shakrich

THE ;

FAMILY SHAKSPEARE,

IN WHICH

NOTHING IS ADDED TO THE ORIGINAL TEXT;

BUT I^HOSE WORDS AND EXPRESSIONS ARE OMITTED

WHICH CANNOT WITH PROPRIETY BE READ

ALOUD IN A FAMILY.

exemit labem purumqiie reliquit

^thereutn sensuin, atque aurai simplicis igncm.

VinciL.

BY

THOMAS BOWDLER, Esq. F.R.S. & S.A.

THE FIFTH EDITION.

VOL, I.

COKTAINING

TEMPEST;

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA;

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR;

TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL;

MEASURE FOR MEASURE;

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR

LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN,

PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1827,

Sportive Fancy rourrd him flew.
Nature led him by the hand.
Instructed him in all she knew.
And gave him absolute command.

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 3

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 has been observed by a learned writer in a pre-
face to his second edition, that the feelings 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 com-
mitted 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 examined 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 re-
moving indecency from Shakspeare. It would, in-
deed, 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

A 4

via PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

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, at perceiving that no person ap-
pears 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 unobjec-
tionable as possible. I have, therefore, in prepar-
ing this Edition for the press, taken great pains to
discover and correct any defects which might for-
merly have escaped my notice, but they have ap-
peared in this last perusal of the work to be very
few in number, and not of any great importance.
Such, however, as 1 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 sans reproche.

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 my-
self 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

niEFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. IX

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 en-
tirely destroyed. This objection arises principally
from those persons who have confined their study
of Shakspeare to the closet, and have not learned
in the theatre, with how much safety it is possible
to make the necessary alterations. They have not
learned, or they have forgot, that except in one, or
at most in two instances, the plays of our author
are never presented to the public without being
corrected, and more or less cleared of indecency ;
yet, Macbeth and Othello, Lear, Hamlet, and As
you Like it, continue still to exhibit 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 fre-
quently 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 have attempted to do for the library
what the manager does for the stage, and I wish
that the persons who urge this objection would ex-
amine the plays with attention. I venture to as-
sert, that in the far greater part of them, they
would find that it is not difficult to separate the in-
decent from the decent expressions ; and they would
soon be convinced, that, by removing the stains.

X PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

they would view the picture not only uninjured,
but possessed of additional beauty. The truth of
this observation has been expressed with such ele-
gance, and in terms so honourable to Shakspeare,
by a very superior judge of poetic composition,
that I cannot resist the temptation of inserting the
whole passage.

After censuring the indecencies of Dryden 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 fi-om being missed on their re-
" moval, the work generally appears more natural
" and harmonious without them." * I will not
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 ob-
servation. It is indeed a difficulty, and a very great
one, under which I labour, that it is not possible
for me to state the words which I have omitted ;
but I think that I may adduce one instance, which,
without offending the eye or the ear of modesty,
* Edinburgh Review, No. Ixxi. page 53.

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. XI

will sufficiently confirm the remarks of the judi'-
cious 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 pre-
paring to march towards Calais. In the fourth
scene of that act, we find the French king and his
counsellors deHberating on the means of intercept-
ing the EngHsh army. These scenes naturally fol-
low 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 at-
tendant, of whom she is endeavouring to learn the
English language. Slie asks her,

Kath. Comment appellez-vous la main en Anglois?
Alice. La main ? EUe est appellee de hand,
Kath. De hand, Et les doigts ?
Alice. Les doigts ? Je pense qiCils sont appelUe

defingresy ouy dejingres,
Kath. Comment appellez-vous les ongles ?
Alice. Les ongles P ' les appe lions 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 v»^ord on any subject but the foregoing, every
person will be ready to ask, what could induce
Shakspeare to insert so useless a scene ? The an-

Xll PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

swer, I believe, must be, that it was written in com-
pliance with the bad taste of the age, for the
express purpose of raising a laugh at the conclu-
sion, by introducing, through the medium of im-
perfect 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 else-
where, 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 narrative, by so impro-
per 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 inay 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 unconnected with the play, that
one might almost be inclined to suppose, that
Shakspeare, in the first instance, composed one of his
beautiful dramas, and after it was finished, was com-

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. Xlll

pelled, by the wretched taste of the age, to add
something of a low and ludicrous nature. The pas-
sages thus inserted, have really, in many cases, the
appearance of interpolations, and adopting the ex-
pressive 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 ex-
cept 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 with-
out difficulty, but I confess that there are three
plays which form exceptions to what I have ad-
vanced respecting the facility of the task that I have
undertaken. To Measure for Measure, Henry 7F.,
and Othello, I have annexed particular prefaces, stat-
ing the difficulties which 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

XIV PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

should not be sorry if the merit of this whole work
were to be decided by a comparison 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 in-
juring the characters ; but wantonness of expres-
sion and action are very closely connected with
Falstaff 5 and the infuriate passions of rage, jea-
lousy, 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.

If a presumptuous artist should undertake to remove a
supposed defect in the Transfiguration 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 men-
tioned, or mentioned only with him who set fire to the
Temple of Diana. But the works of the poet may be con-
sidered in a very different light from those of the painter and
the statuary. Shakspeare, inimitable Shakspeare, will re_
main the subject of admiration as long as taste and literature
shall exist, and his writings will be handed down to poste-
rity in their native beauty, although the present attempt to
add to his fame should prove entirely abortive. Here,
then, is the great difference. If the endeavour to improve
the picture or the statue should be unsuccessful, the beauty
of the original would be destroyed, and the injury be irre-
parable. In such a case, let the artist refrain from using
the chisel or the pencil : but with the works of the poet no
such danger occurs, and the critic need not be afraid of
employing his pen ; for the original will continue unim-
paired, although his own labours should immediately be

XVI PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

consigned to oblivion. That Shakspeare is the first of dra-
matic writers will be denied by few, and I doubt whether
it will be denied by any who have really studied his works,
and compared 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 warmest
admirers, that some defects are to be found in the writings
of our immortal bard. The language is not always fault-
less. Many 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 were evidently
introduced to gratify the bad taste of the age in which he
lived, and the rest may perhaps be ascribed to his own un-
bridled fancy. But neither the vicious taste of the age, nor
the most brilliant effusions of wit, can afford an excuse for
profaneness or obscenity ; and if these could be obliterated,
the transcendent genius of the poet would undoubtedly
shine with more unclouded lustre. To banish every thing
of this nature from the writings of Shakspeare is the object
of the present undertaking. My earnest wish is to render
his plays unsullied by any scene, by any speech, or, if pos-
sible, 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 unne-
cessarily, and on such trifling occasions, and are expressed
with so much levity, as to call imperiously for their erase-
ment. As an example of this kind I may quote a scene in
the fifth act of Love's Labour^ 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

\

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XVII

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 ap-
peared 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 Deus 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 incumbent 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 seven-
teenth century, the plays of Shakspeare are remarkably
decent ; but it is not sufficient that his defects are trifling in
comparison with writers who are highly defective. It cer-
tainly 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

VOL. I. a

XVm PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

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 neces-
sary for the reader to pause, and examine 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 Shakspeare 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 in-
stances, 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 connecting 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. Steevens. This I have done so

* My first idea of the Family Shakspeare arose from the recollection
of my father's custom of reading in this manner to his family. Shaks-
peare (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 de-
light to Lear, Hamlet, and Othello, without knowing that those match-
less tragedies contained words and expressions improper to be pro-
nounced ; 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 famil}', 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.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XIX

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 Shak-
speare, 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 contrary 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 edi-
tion 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 instruction
as well as pleasure; may improve his moral principles
while he refines his taste ; and, without incurring the dan-
ger 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.

TEMPEST.

VOL. I. B

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Alonso, king of Naples.

Sebastian, his brother.

Prospero, the rightful duke of Milan.

Antonio, his brother, the usurping duke of Milan,

Ferdinand, son to the king of Naples.

GoNZALo, an honest old counsellor of Naples.

Adrian, "> , ,

Francisco. \ ^''^'-

Caliban, a savage and deformed slave.

Trinculo, a jester.

Stephano, a drunken butler.

Master of a ship. Boatswain, and Mariners.

Miranda, daughter to Prospero.

Ariel, an airy spirit.

Iris,

Ceres,

Juno, ^ spirits.

Nymphs,

Reapers, ^

Other spirits attending on Prospero.

SCENE, the sea, with a ship ; afterwards an unin-
habited island.

TEMPEST.

ACT I.

SCENE I. — On a ship at sea. A storm *with thunder and
lightning.

Enter a Ship-master and a Boatswain.

Master,
Boatswain, —

Boats, Here, master : what cheer ?
Master, Good : Speak to the mariners : fall to't
yarely^, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir.

\_Ea:it,

Enter Mariners.

Boats, Heigh, my hearts 5 cheerly, cheerly, my

hearts ; yare, yare : Take in the top-sail ; Tend to

the master's whistle. - — Blow, till thou burst thy

wind, if room enough !

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdinand,
GoNZALo, and others,

Alon, Good boatswain, have care. Where's the
master? Play the men.

Boats. I pray now, keep below.

* Readily.
B S

4 TEMPEST. Act I.

AnL Where is the master, boatswain ?

Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our
labour ! keep your cabins : you do assist the storm.

Gon, Nay, good, be patient.

Boats. When the sea is. Hence ! What care
these roarers for the name of king ? To cabins :
silence : trouble us not.

Gon. Good ; yet remember whom thou hast
aboard.

Boats. None that I more love than myself. You
are a counsellor ; if you can command these ele-
ments to silence, and work the peace of the present ^
we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority.
If you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long,
and make yourself ready in your cabin for the
mischance of the hour, if it so hap. — Cheerly, good
hearts. — Out of our way, I say. [_Ea:it.

Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow :
methinks, 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 mi-
serable. [_Ea:eunt.

Re-enter Boatswain.

Boats. Down with the topmast ; yare ; lower,
lower ; bring her to try with main course. [_A cry
within.'] A plague upon this howling ! they are
louder than the weather, or our office —

Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo.

Yet again ? what do you here ? Shall we give o'er,
and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ?

2 Present instant.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 5

Seb, A plague o' your throat ? you bawling, blas-
phemous, uncharitable dog!

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.

Boats, 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.

Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ?

Gon, The king and prince at prayers ! let us as-
sist them.
For our case is as their' s.

Seb, I am out of patience.

Ant, We are merely^ 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. [Ea:it.

Seb, Let's take leave of him. [Ea:it,

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.

^ Absolutely.
b3

6 TEMPEST. Act I.

SCENE II.
The Island : before the cell of Prospero.

Enter Prospero and Miranda.

Mira. Li' 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 suffered
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.

I have done nothing but in care of thee,
(Of thee, my dear one ! thee, my daughter !) who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am ; 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.

Pro, 'Tis time

I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand.
And pluck my magic garment from me. — So 5

[^Lai/s down his mantle.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 7

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, Staj/, not yet, —

Pro, The hour's now come ;

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ;
Obey, and be attentive. Can'st thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell ?
I do not think thou can'st ; for then thou wast not
Out"^ three years old.

Mira. Certainly, sir, I can.

Pro, By what ? by any other house, or person ?
Of any thing the image tell me, that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

Mira, 'Tis far off;

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 how
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.

^ Quite.
B 4

8 TEMPEST. Act I.

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 w^as'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^ that I have turned 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.
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

•^ Sorrow.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 9

To trash ^ for over-topping ; new-created

The creatures that were mine ; I say, or chang'd

them,
Or else new form'd them : having both the key
Of 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 at-
tend'st not :
I pray thee, mark me. -

Mira^ O good sir, I do.

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicate
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 him
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 screen 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 roydties

*' Cut away.

10 TEMPEST. Act I.

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 j then
tell me.
If this might be a brother.

Mira, 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
Out of the dukedom ; and confer fair Milan,
With all the honours, on my brother : Whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open
The gates of Milan ; and i' the dead of darkness.
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me, and thy crying self.

Mira, Alack, for pity !

I, not remembering 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 ?

Scene II. TEMPEST. 11

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 busmess ; but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark ;
Bore us some leagues to sea ; where they prepared
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 did preserve me! Thou didst

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^, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

Mir a. 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.
Which 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.

"^ Stubborn resolution.

12 TEMPEST. Act I.

Mira. 'Would I 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 school-master, 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 ?

P7'o, 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 questions ;
Thou art inclin'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way ; — I know thou can'st not
choose. — [Miranda sleeps.

Come away, servant, come : I am ready now :
Approach, my Ariel 5 come.

Enter Ariel.

Ari. 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 cuii'd clouds ; to thy strong bidding, task
Ariel, and all his quality.

Pro, Hast thou, spirit,

Pertbrm'd to point® the tempest that I bade thee ?

s The minutest article.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 13

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 liglitnings, the pre-
cursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-out-running 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 ^
Would not infect his reason ?

ArL 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 (tlien like reeds, not hair,)
Was the first man that leap'd.

JPro, Why, that's my spirit !

But was not this nigh shore ?

ArL Close by, my master.

Pro» But are they, Ariel, safe ?

ArL 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 1 left cooling of the air with sighs,
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting.
His arms in this sad knot.

^ Bustle, tumult.

14 TEMPEST. Act I.

Pro, Of the king's ship,

The mariners, say, how thou hast disposed.
And all the rest o' the fleet ?

ArL 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

Exactly is perform'd ; but there's more work :
What is the time o' the day ?

ArL Past the mid season.

Pro, At least two glasses : The time 'twixt six
and now,
Must by us both be spent most preciously.

ArL 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 can'st demand ?

ArL My liberty.

Pro. Before the time be out? no more.

ArL I pray thee

Remember, I have done thee worthy service j
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd
Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst

promise
To bate me a full year.

* Bermudas. ^ Wave.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 15

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.

ArL I do not, sir.

Pro, Thou liest, malignant thing 1 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.

ArL Sir, in Argier.^

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 ?

ArL 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^ she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers.
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine ; within which rift
Imprisoned, thou did'st painfully remain

3 Algiers. 4 Commands.

16 TEMPEST. Act I.

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.

ArL 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
Of ever-angry bears. This Sycorax
Could not again undo ; it was mine art,
When I arriv'd, and heard thee, that made gape
The pine, and let thee out.

Ari, I thank thee, master.

Fro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak.
And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Art. Pardon, master:

I will be correspondent to command.
And do my spriting gently.

Pro. Do so ; and after two days

1 will discharge thee.

ArL 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;
Be subject to no sight but mine ; invisible
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape.
And hither come in't : hence, with diligence.

\^Ea^it Ariel.
Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ;
Awake 1

Mira. The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Pro. Shake it off: Come on,

Scene II. TEMPEST. 17

We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

Mir a, '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. [Ejcit.

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^
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,

^ Fairies.
VOL. I. C

18 TEMPEST. Act I.

Which thou tak'st from me. When thou camest

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.
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,
Wliich 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 carc; and lodg'd

thee
In mine own cell, till thou did'st seek to violate
The honour of rny child. Abhorred slave ;
Which any print of goodness will not take.
Being capable of all ill 1 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 wouid'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.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 19

CaL You taught me language 5 and ray profit on't
Is, I know how to curse : the red plague rid^ 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 5
Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar.
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

CaL No, 'pray thee! —

T 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 !

[_Ea:it Caliban.

Re-enter Ariel i7wisible, 'playing and singing;
Ferbina^nd fillowi?ig him,

Ariel's Song.

Come unto these yellow sands

And then take hands :
Courfsied when you have^ and kissed,

(The wild waves whisf')
Foot itfeatly here and there ;
Andy sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!
Bur, Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly.

The watch-dogs bark :
Bur, Bowgh, wowgh. [dispersedly.

Hark, hark ! I hear
The strain of strutting chant icier e
Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.

Per, Where should this musick be ? i* the air, or
the earth ?

-*• Destroy. 7 Being stilled, silenced.

c 2

20 TEMPEST. Act I.

It sounds no more : — and sure, it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This musick crept by me upon the waters ;
Allaying both their fury, and my passion.
With its sweet air ; thence 1 have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather : — But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.

Ariel sings.

Full fathom Jive thy father lies ;

Of his hones are coral made ;
Those are pearls, that were his eyes :

Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell :
Hark I now I hear them, — ding-dong, hell.

{^Burden, ding-dong.

Fer. The ditty does remember my drown'd fa-
ther : —
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes^ : — 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

^ Owns.

ScKNE II. TEMPEST. 21

A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows,
And strays about to find them.

Mir a. 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

fi^ee 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,
Whicli I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder !
li' you be maid, or no ?

Mira, No wonder, sir 5

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 controP thee,

•♦ Confute.
c 8

22 TEMPEST. Act I.

If now 'twere fit to do*t : — At the first sight

\_Aside,
They have chang'd eyes : — Delicate Ariel,
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 !

Pro, 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.

Fer. 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.

Pro, Follow me. — [Zb 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.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 23

Mira. O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearfulJ

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 possessed 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.

^ Friglitful. 2 Guard.

C 4

24 TEMPEST. Act II.

Pro. It works : — Come on. —

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

[To Ferd. and Mir.
Hark, what thou else shalt do me. [To Ariel.

Mira, Be of comfort ;

My father's of a better nature, sir.
Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted.
Which now came from him.

Fro, 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. [Ea^eunt,

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
cause
(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 milhons
Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon, Pr'ythee, peace !

Seh, He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 25

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 —

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed ; you have
spoken truer than you purposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiseher 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. The cockrel.

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, —

Seb. Yet.

Adr. Yet —

A7it. He could not miss it.

Adr, The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant. True ; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

26 TEMPEST. Act II.

Gon, How lush^ and lusty the grass looks ! how
green !

Ant, The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye^ of green in't.

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 vouchM 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 the 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 ^neas 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.

3 Rank. ^ Shade of colour.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 27

Ant, What impossible matter will he make easy
next?

Seb, I think, he will carry this island home in
his pocket, and give it his son 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
seem 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.

Go7i, Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first
day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort.

Ant, That sort was well fish'd for.

Go/z. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears
against
The stomach of my sense : 'Would I had never
Married my daughter there ! for, coming thence,
My son is lost ; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
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 ;

I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs ; he trod tlie 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 him ; I not doubt.
He came alive to land.

28 TEMPEST. Act II.

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.

SeK 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 m.en 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, V the commonwealth I would by con-
. traries

Scene I. TEMPEST. 29

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 : —

Seh, 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, allfoison^ all abundance.
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, Pr'ythee, 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. And it had not fallen flat-long.

•■' Plenty.

30 TEMPEST. Act IL

Gon, You are gentlemen of brave mettle ; 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.

Alo7i, Thank you : Wond'rous heavy.

[Alonso sleeps, Eocit Artel.

Seb, What a strange drowsiness possesses them !

Ant, It is the quality o' the climate.

Seb, Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids 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 : —

Scene I. TEMPEST. 31

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?

Seh, 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
Whiles thou art waking.

Seb, 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 ; which to do.
Trebles thee o'er.

Seb, Well ; I am standing water.

Ant, I'll teach you how to flow.

Seb, 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

32 TEMPEST. Act II.

(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 ?

Seh, 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 your's and my dischai'ge.

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 Naples ? — Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake ! — Say, this were death

Scene I. TEMPEST. 33

That now hath seiz'd them ; why, they were no

worse
Than now they are: there be, that can rule

Naples
As well as he that sleeps ; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily,
As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make
A chough^ of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this
For your advancement ! Do you understand me ?
Seb. Methinks I do.

Ant, And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune ?

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,

^ A bird of the jack-daw kind.
VOL.1. D

34 TEMPEST. Act II.

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,

Mustek, Re-enter Ariel, invisible,

Ari, 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'5 ear.

While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd conspiracy

His time doth take :
If of life you keep a care.
Shake off slumber, and beware .*

Awake I awake !

Ant, Then let us both be sudden.

Gon, Now, good angels, preserve the king!

\They wake,
Alon, 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.

12

Scene II. TEMPEST. 35

Aion. I heard nothing.

Ant, O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear j
To make an earthquake 1 sure it was the roar
Of a whole herd of Hons.

Alon, Heard you this, Gonzalo ?

Gon, Upon mine honour, sir, I 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.

Alo7i, Lead off this ground; and let's make fur-
ther search
For my poor son.

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. [Ea^eunt.

SCENE II.

Another part of the Island,

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

Cat. 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 :

D 'Z

36 TEMPEST. Act 11.

Sometime like apes, that moe^ and chatter at me,
And after, bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount
Their 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
near it sing i' the wind : yond' same black cloud,
yond' huge one, looks like a foul bumbard^ that
would shed his liquor. If it should thunder, as it
did before, I know not where to hide my head :
yond' same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.
What have we here ? a man or a fish ? dead or alive?
A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and fish-
like smell ; a kind of, not of the newest, Poor-John.
A strange fish ! Were 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 r\ Alas! the storm is come again: my best
way is to creep under his gaberdine^; there is no
other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man

"^ Make mouths.

^ A black jack of leather, to hold beer.

9 The frock of a peasant.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 57

with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till
the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter Stephano, singing ; a bottle in his hand,

Ste. / 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 7,
The gunner, and his mate,

Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car' d for Kate :
For she had a tongue with a tang.
Would cry to a sailor. Go hang :
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang.

This is a scurvy tune too : But here's my comfort.

\Drinhs*

Cat. 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 1 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.

* India.
D 3

S8 TEMPEST. Act II.

Cal, Do not torment me, pr'y thee ;
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 recov^er 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 j 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 pull
thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs,
these are they. Thou art very Trinculo, indeed :
How cam'stthou 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?
2 Stool.

Scene II. TEMPEST. * 39

I hope now, thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown ? I hid me under the dead moon-calPs
gaberdine, for fear of the storm : And art thou
living, Stephano ? O Stephano, two Neapolitans
'scap'd !

Ste, Pr'ythee, do not turn me about ; my stomach
is not constant.

CaL These be fine things, an if they be not
sprites.
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 over-board, by this bottle ! which I made of
the bark of a tree, with mine own hands, since I was
cast ashore.

Cal. 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 5 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 ?

Cal, 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.

Cal, 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:

D 4

40 TEMPEST. Act 11.

■ — The man i' the moon ? — a most poor credulous
monster : — Well drawn, monster, in good sooth.

CaL 1*11 show thee every fertile inch o' the
island :
I'll 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-
headed monster: A most scurvy monster 1 I could
find in my heart to beat him, —

Ste, Come, kiss.

Trin, — but that the poor monster's in drink .
An abominable monster !

CaL 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 wond'rous 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 J
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^ 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 drimkenly ,

3 Sea gulls.

Act III. Sc. I. TEMPEST. 41

Trin, A howling monster ; a drunken monster.
CaL No more dams Fll make for Jlsh ;

Norfotch inforing

At requiring.

Nor scrape trenchering, nor *wash dish ;

'Ban '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 L— Before Prosperous Cell,
Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log,

Fer, 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.
Upon a sore injunction : My sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work ; and says, such

baseness
Had ne'er like executor. I forget :
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ;
Most busy-less, when I do it.

42 TEMPEST. Act III.

Enter Miranda ; and Prospero at a distance,

Mira, Alas, now ! pray you

Work not so hard : I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs, that you are 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 while : 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.

Pro, Poor worm! thoyi 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,
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,)
What is your name ?

Mira, Miranda : — O my father,

I have broke your best'' to say so !

Fer, Admir'd Miranda !

Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth
What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady
'* Command.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 4j3

I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a time
The 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 j 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
Something 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 1 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 I speak true! if hollowly, invert

^ Own'd.

44 TEMPEST. Act 111.

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.

Mira, And mine, with my heart in't : And now
farewell.
Till half an hour hence.

Fer, A thousand ! thousand

[_Ea:eunt 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. \_Ea:it,

Scene II. TEMPEST. 45

SCENE II.

Another part of the Island.

Enter Stephano and Trinculo ; 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
tome.

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 head.

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.

Cal. 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 tojustle 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 ?

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

46 TEMPEST. Act III.

Trin, Lord, quoth he ! — that a monster should
be such a natural !

CaL 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.

CaL 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,

CaL As I told thee
Before, I am subject to a tyrant ;
A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath
Cheated me of this island.

Ari. Thou liest.

CaL Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou ;
I would my valiant master would destroy thee :
I do not lie.

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

Trin, Why, I said nothing.

Ste. Mum then, and no more. — [2'o Caliban.]
Proceed.

. CaL I say, by sorcery he got this isle ;
From me he got it. If thy greatness will
Revenge it on him — for, I know, thou dar'st ;
But this thing dare not.

Ste, That's most certain.

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

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

CaL Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep
Where thou may'st knock a nail into his head.

Scene II. TEMPEST. 47

ArL Thou liest, thou canst not.

Cal, What a pied ninny's this^ ! Thou scurvy
patch ! —
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows,
And take his bottle from him : when that's gone,
He shall drink nought but brine ; for I'll not show

him
Where the quick freshes^ 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
stock-fish of thee.

Trin. Why, what did I ? I did nothing ; I'll go
further off.

Sle, Didst thou not say, he lied ?

ArL Thou liest.

Ste. Do I so ? take thou that. [^Strikes him.'] 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 !

Cal. 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
I' the afternoon to sleep : there thou may'st brain

him.
Having first seiz'd his books ; or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand^ with thy knife : Remember,
First to possess his books ; for without them

6 Alluding to Trinculo's party-coloured dress.

7 Springs. « Throat.

48 TEMPEST. Act III.

He'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,

But only Sycorax my dam and she ;

But she as far surpasseth Sycorax,

As greatest does least.

Ste, Is it so brave a lass ?

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

Ste, Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter
and I will be king and queen ; (save our graces !)
and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys : — Dost
thou like the plot, Trinculo?

Trin, Excellent.

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.

Art. 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. \_Sings.
FlouV em^ and shout 'em; and shout 'em, and flout 'em;
Thought is free,

Cal That's not the tune.

[Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe^

Scene II. TEMPEST. 4&

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 !

Cat, Art thou afeard ?

Ste, No, monster, not I.

Cat, 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.

Cat, 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.

Trin, Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. \_Ea:eunt,

VOL. I.

$0 TEMPEST. Act III.

SCENE III.
Another part of the Island,

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo,
Adrian, Francisco, and others,

Gon, By'r lakin^ 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.

\_Aside to Sebastian,
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolv'd to effect.

Seb, The next advantage

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.

Seb, 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 of salutation ; and, inviting the king, 8^c, to
eat, they depart,

Alon, What harmony is this ? my good friends,
hark!

9 Our lady.

Scene III. TEMPEST. St

Go7i. 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, 1 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 L

1 Show.

E 2

S2 ^ TEMPEST. Act III.

Gon, Faith, sir, you need not fear: When we

were boys.
Who would beheve that there were mountaineers,
Dew-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 my 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 wings upon the table, and, with a quaint
device, the banquet vanishes,

Ari, 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. S^c. 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 tempered, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle^ 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,.

^ Down.

Scene III. TEMPEST. S$

(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 ^ life ensuing.

He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft musick, enter
the Shapes again, and dance with mops and mowes,
and carry out the table.

Pro. \^Asider\ 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.

\^Ea:it Frospero Jrom above,
Gon, I' the name of something holy, sir, why

stand you
In this strange stare ?

3 Pure, blameless.
E 3

54. TEMPEST. Act IV.

Alon, 0> it is monstrous 1 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, pronounced
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. \_Ea:it.

Seb, But one fiend at a time,

I'll fight their legions o'er.

Ant, I'll be thy second.

\_Ea:eunt Seb. and Ant,

Gon. All three of them are desperate; their great
guilt.
Like poison given to work a great time after.
Now 'gins to bite the spirits : — I do beseech you
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly.
And hinder them from what this ecstacy'*
May now provoke them to.

Adr. Follow, I pray you.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. -^Befm-e Prosperous CeU.

Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.

Pro. If I have too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends ; for I
Have given you here a thread of mine own life,
Or that for which I live ; whom once again

•* Alienation of mind.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 55

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,

1 ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,

Do not smile at me, that 1 boast her off,

For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,

And make it halt behind her.

Fer. I do believe it,

Against an oracle.

Pro, Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased, 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 j 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.
E 4

56 TEMPEST. Act IV.

Art, 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.

An. Well I conceive. \^Ea:iL

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. [_Sqft musick,

A Masque, Enter luis.

Iris, Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease ;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep ;
Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims.
Which spongy April at thy hest^ betrims.
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy

broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves.
Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ;
And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard.
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
^ Surplus. ^ Command. ,

Scene I. TEMPEST. 57

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 ^ 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.

Iris. Of her society

Be not afraid : 1 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.

7 Woody. 8 Pluto.

58 TEMPEST. Act IV.

Cer. Earth^s increase, andfoison^ plenty ;
Barns, and garners never empty ;
Vines with clusfring bunches growing;
Plants, with goodly burden bowing ;
Spring come to you, at the farthest.
In 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^ father, and a wife,
Make this place paradise.

[Juno and Ceres whisper, 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 sun-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary.
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ;

'•^ Abundance. ' Able to produce such wonders.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 59

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 Cahban, 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
passion
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 dismayed: 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 disturbed with my infirmity :
If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell.

60 TEMPEST. Act IV.

And there repose ; a turn or two I'll walk.
To still my beating mind.

Fer. Mira, We wish your peace.

{Ea:eunt,
Pro. Come with a thought : — I thank you : —
Ariel, come.

Enter Ariel.

ArL Thy thoughts I cleave to : What's thy plea-
sure ?
Fro. Spirit,

We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

Art. Ay, my commander: when I presented
Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it \ but I fear'd.
Lest I might anger thee.

Fro. 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.
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses.
As they smelt musick ; so I charm'd their ears.
That, calf-like, they my lowing followed, through
Tooth' d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and

thorns.
Which enter' d their frail shins ; at last I left them
r the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell.
Up to the chins.

Fro. This w^as well done, my bird.

Thy shape invisible retain thou still :

Scene I. TEMPEST. 61

The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hither.
For stale ^ to catch these thieves.

ArL 1 go, I go. [jEjt^V.

Pro, A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture^ 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, (§r.
Even to roaring : — Come, hang them on this line.

pROSPERO and Ariel remain invisible. Enter
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet.

Cat. 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'^ 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.

Cat, 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 is not only disgrace and dishonour in
that, monster, but an infinite loss.

Trin, That's more to me than my wetting : yet
this is your harmless fairy, monster.

2 Bait. 3 Education. ^ j^^k with a lantern.

62 TEMPEST. Act IV.

Ste, I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er
ears for my labour.

CaL Pr'ythee, 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^: — O king Stephano!

Ste, Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand,
ril 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, an't
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
excellent pass of pate ; there's another garment for't.

Trin. Monster, come, put some lime^ upon your
iingers, and away with the rest.

^ A shop for sale of old clothes, ^ Bird-lime.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 65

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 Til
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 Ariel setting them on.

Pro, Hey, Mountain, hey !
Ari, Silver ! there it goes. Silver I
Pro, Fury, Fury ! there. Tyrant, there ! hark,
hark!

[Cal. Ste. and Trin. are driven out.

Go, charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps ; and more pinch-spotted make

them,
Than pard^ or cat ©'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. {^Ea:eunt.

7 Leopard.

64. TEMPEST. Act V.

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 ?

Ariel 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 m charge ;
Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners
In the lime-grove which weather- fends® 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.

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions ? and shall not myself.
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ?
^ Defends from bad weather.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 65

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the

quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury
Do 1 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.
Art, I'll fetch them, sir,

Pro. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes,
and groves 5
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 st;rong-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
I here abjure : and, when I have requir'd
Some heavenly musick, (which even now I do,)
To work mine end upon their senses, that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff.
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth.
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my book. {^Solemn Musick.

VOL. I. F

66 TEMPEST. Act V.

Re-enter Ariel : after him Alonso, wilh a frantic
gesture, attended by Gonzalo ; Sebastian arid
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 foUow'st ; I will pay thy graces

Home both in word and deed. — Most cruelly

Didst thou, Alonso, us^ me and my daughter :

Thy brother was a furtherer in the act; —

Thou'rt pinch'd for't how, Sebastian. — Flesh and

blood.
You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
Expell'd remorse^ 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 ;

[^Ea:it Ariel.

^ Pity, or tenderness of heart.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 67

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 siick I ;
In a cowslip* s bell I lie :
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat^s back I dojiy.
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 amaze-
ment
Inhabits here : Some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country !

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,

^ Whether.
F S

68 TEMPEST. « Act V.

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 ?

Fro, 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 things certain : — 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.

Scene I. TEMPEST. 69

Pro. I am woe^ 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 j 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?

0 heavens ! that they were living both in Naples,
The king and queen there ! that they were, 1 wish
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed

Where my son lies. When did you lose your

daughter ?
Pro. In this last tempest. I 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
Which was thrust forth of 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 ;
Xhis 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,

1 will requite you with as good a thing ;

^ Sorry.
f3

70 TEMPEST. ActV.

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

The entrance of the cell opens, and discovers Ferdi-
nand and Miranda playing at chess.

Mira, Sweet lord, you play me false.

Fer, No, my dearest love,

I would not for the world.

Mira, Y'es, 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,

Scene I. TEMPEST. 7\

Of whom so often I have heard renown,
But never saw before ; of whom I have
Received a second Hfe, and second father
This lady makes him to me.

Alon. I am her's :

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 ^t 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 i

Re-enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatswain
amazedly following.

0 look, sir, look, sir ; here are more of us !

1 prophesied, if a gallows were on land,

F 4

72 TEMPEST. ActV*

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^ and bravely rigg'd, as when
We first put out to sea.

Art, Sir, all this service^

Have I done since I went. v [_ Aside,

Pro, My tricksy^ spirit! J

Alon, These are not natural events ; they
strengthen
From strange to stranger ; — Say, how came you
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 V \_Aside.
shalt 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® of: some oracle
Must rectify our knowledge.

•* Ready. -^ Clever, adroit. ^ Conductor.

Scene I. TEMPEST. n

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 happened accidents : till when, be cheerful,
And think of each thing well. — Come hither,
spirit ; [Aside.

Set Caliban and his companions free :
Untie the spell. [_E^it 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 rest, 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
He will chastise me.

xS'^^. > 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^: — 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 :
7 Honest.

74 TEMPEST. Act V.

These three have robb'd me ; and this demi-devil
(For he's a bastard one,) had plotted with them
To take my life : two of these fellows you
Must know, and own ; this thing of darkness I
Acknowledge mine.

Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death.

Alon, Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler ?

Seb. He is drunk now : Where had he wine ?

Alon, And Trinculo is reehng 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.

Cal, 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.

[_Ea:eunt Cal. Ste, and Trin.

Pro, Sir, I invite your highness, and your train.
To my poor cell : where you shall take your rest

Scene I. TEMPEST. 75

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.

Alan, 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 ! — [Asider\ Please you
draw near. \_Ea^eunt.

EPILOGUE.

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO.

Now my charms are all overthrown,
And what strength I havens mine own ;
Which is most faint : now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you.
Or sent to Naples : Let me not.
Since I have my dukedom got.
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island, by your spell ;
But release me from my bands.
With the help of your good hands,^
Gentle breath of your* s my sails
Must fit, 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 assaidts
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardoned be.
Let your indulgence set me free.

8 Applause ; noise was supposed to dissolve a spell.

TWO GENTLEMEN

OF

VERONA.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duke of Milan, Jather to Silvia,
Valentine, 1 ^, ^^r

Proteus, J ^^^^^^^^^ Of Verona.

Antonio, father to Proteus, ^

Thurio, a foolish rival to Valentine,
Eglamour, agent for Silvia in her escape.
Speed, a clownish servant to Valentine.
Launce, servant to Proteus.
Panthino, servant to Antonio.
Host where Julia lodges in Milan, '
Out'lawos.

Julia, a lady of Verona, beloved hy Proteus.
Silvia, the duke's daughter, beloved by Valentine.
Lucetta, waiting-woman to Julia.

Servants, musicians.

SCENE, sometimes in Verona ; sometimes in Milan ;
and on the frontiers of Mantua.

TWO GENTLEMEN

OF

VERONA.

ACT I.

SCENE I. — An open place in Verona.

Enter Valentine and Proteus.

Valentine,

Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus ;

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits :

Wer't not affection chains thy tender days

To the sweet glances of thy honour' d love,

I rather would entreat thy company,

To see the wonders of the world abroad,

Than living dully sluggerdiz'd at home,

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness

But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein.

Even as I would, when I to love begin.

Pro, Wilt thou 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.

8 0 TWO GENTLEMEN Act T.

If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,

For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine.

Val, And on a love-book pray for my success.

Fro, Upon some book I love, I'll pray for thee.

VaL That's on some shallow story of deep love,
How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont.

Pro That's a deep story of a deeper love ;
For he was more than over shoes in love.

VaL 'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love,
And yet you never swam the Hellespont.

Pro, Over the boots? nay, give me not the
boots. '

VaL No, I'll not, for it boots thee not.

Pro, What?

VaL To be

In love, where scorn is bought with groans ; coy

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 ;
How^ever, but a folly bought with wit.
Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

Pro, So, by your circumstance, you call me fool,

VaL So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll
prove.
' Pf^o 'Tis love you cavil at ; I am not love.

VaL Love is your master, for he masters you :
And he that is so yoked by a fool,
Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.

Pro, Yet writers say. As in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

VaL And writers say. As the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow.

' A humorous punishment at harvest-home feasts, &c.

SCENE I. OF VERONA. 81

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.

Pro, And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

VaL Sweet Proteus, no 5 now let us take our
leave.
At Milan let me hear from thee by letters,
Of thy success in love, and what news else
Betideth here in absence of thy friend ;
And I likewise will visit thee with mine.

Pro, All happiness bechance to thee in Milan !

VaL As much to you at home ! and so farewell !

\_Eajit Valentine.

Pro, He after honour haunts, I after love :
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more ;
I leave myselfi my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou 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 j
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.

VOL. I. G

82 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I.

Speed, You conclude that my master is a shep-
herd, 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 an-
other.

Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not
the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my master,
and my master seeks not me ; therefore, 1 am no
sheep.

Pro, The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd,
the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; thou
for wages folio west 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.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 83

Pro, Nod, 1 ? 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
together, take it for your pains.

Pro, No, no, youshallhave 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 ?

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^ me ; in requital whereof, henceforth
carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll com-
mend you to my master.

Pro, Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from
wreck ;

2 A game at cards. 3 Given me a sixpence.

G 2

84 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I.

Which cannot perish, having thee aboard,
Being destined to a drier death on shore : —
I must go send some better messenger ;
I fear, my JuHa would not deign my lines.
Receiving them from such a worthless post. [Exeunt.

SCENE 11.

The same. Garden o/" 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'^ thus on lovely gentlemen.
Jul, Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest ?

Lu£, Then thus, of many good I think him

best.

^ Pass sentence.

Scene II. OF VERONA. 85

Jul, Your reason ?

Luc, I have no other but a woman's reason ;
I think him so, because I think him so.

Jul, And would' St thou have me cast my love on
him ?

Luc, Ay, 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.

Jul, 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 shew their
love.

Luc, O, they love least, that let men know their
love.

Jul, I would I knew his mind.

Luc, 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 j 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 brokep^!^
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 thart
hate.

Jul, Will you be gone ?

Luc, That you may ruminate. [ExiU

^ Matchmaker.
g3

86 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I.

JuL And yet, 1 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, Ai/.
Fie, ^Q ! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !
How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence,
When willingly I would have had her here !
How angerly 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!

Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc, What would your ladyship ?

JuL Is it near dinner time ?

Luc. I would it were ;

That you might kill your stomach® on your meat.
And not upon your maid.

Jul, What is't you took up

So gingerly ?

Lu€, Nothing.

' Jul, Why did'st 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 your's hath writ to you in
rhyme.

6 Passion or obstinacy.

Scene II. OF VERONA. 87

Luc, That I might sing it, madam, to a tune :
Give me a note : your ladyship can set.

Jul As httle by such toys as may be possible :
Best sing it to the tune o^ 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 to sharp.

Jul, You, minion, are too saucy.

Luc, Nay, now you are too flat.
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant : ^
There wanteth but a mean^ to All your song.

Jul, The mean is drown'd with your unruly base.

Luc, Indeed I did the base^ for Proteus.

Jul, This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coiP with protestation ! —

l^Tears the letter.
Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie :
You would be fingering them, to anger me.

Lu>c. She makes it strange ; but she would be
best pleas'd
To be so anger'd with another letter. [_Emt.

Jul, Nay, would I were so angered with the same !
O 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 — land Julia ; — unkind Julia !

7 A term in musick. 8 xhe tenor in musick.

3 A challenge. i Bustle, stir.

G 4

88 TWO GENTLEMEN Act L

As in revenge of thy ingratitude,

I 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 thoroughly

beaPd :
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 forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia ; — that Pll tear away ;
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names :
Thus w^ill I fold them one upon another ;
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.

Re-enter Lucetta.

Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your father

stays.
Jul, Well, let us go.
hue. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales

here ?
Juh If you respect them, best to take them up.
Xwc. 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.
JuUC, Ay, madam, you may say what sights you

see;
I see things too, although you judge I wink.
Jul, Come, come, wilPt please you go ? \Exeunt.

Scene III. OF VERONA. 89

SCENE III.

The same, A room in Antomo*5 house.

Enter Antonio and Panthino.

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 wonder'd that your lordship

Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ;
While other men of slender reputation,^
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out :
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there 5
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"^ to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant, Nor need'st thou much importune me to
that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have considered well his loss of time ;
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.

2 Serious. » Little consequence. * Reproach.

90 TWO GENTLEMEN Act I.

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 hke 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.^

Enter Proteus.

Pro. Sw^eet 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,
Delivered 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 ?
•'• Break the matter to him.

Scene III. OF VERONA. ^1

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^ not that I thus suddenly proceed ;
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^ 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.

\^Ea:eunt Ant. and Pant.

Fro, 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 ;
And 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.
^ Wonder. 7 Allowance.

92 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

ACT 11.

SCENE I. — Milan. An Ajpartment in the Duke'5 Palace,

Enter Valentine and Speed.

Speed, Sir, your glove.

Val, Not mine : my gloves are on.

Speed, Why then this may be your's, 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.

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 ?

Val, 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
lost his A, B, C ; to weep, like a girl that had
buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes
diet*; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak
puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.^ You were

^ Under a regimen. '■^ Allhallowraas.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 9S

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.

Val, Are all these things perceived in me ?

Speed. They are all perceived without you.

VaL Without me ? They cannot.

Speed, Without you ? nay, that's certain, for,
without you were so simple, none else would : but
you are so without these foUies, that these follies
are within you.

VaL But, tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia ?

Speed, She, that you gaze on so, as she sits at
supper.

VaL 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 ?

VaL 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.

VaL How esteemest thou me ? I account of her
beauty.

Speed, You never saw her since she was de-
formed.

94 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

VaL How long hath she been deformed ?

Speed. Ever since you loved her.

VaL I 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.

Speed. Are they not lamely writ ?

Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them : —
Peace, here she comes.

Enter Silvia.

Speed* O excellent motion I^ O exceeding puppeti
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.

^ Whipped. '^ A puppet-show.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 95

SiL Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thou-
sand.

Speed, He should give her' interest 5 and she
gives it him.

VaL As you enjoin' d me, I have writ your letter.
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ;
Which 1 was much unwilling to proceed in,
But for my duty to your ladyship.

SiL I thank you, gentle servant ; 'tis very
clerkly "^ done.

VaL Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off 5
For being ignorant to whom it goes,
I writ at random, very doubtfully.

SiL Perchance you think too much of so much
pains ?

VaL 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.

[^Aside,

VaL What means your ladyship? do you not
like it?

SiL Yes, yes ; the lines are very quaintly writ :
But since unwilHngly, take them again j
Nay, take them.

VaL 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, Pll 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.
^ Like a scholar.

96 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

VaL If it please me, madam ! what then ?

SiL Why, if it please you, take it for your la-
bour ;
And so good-morrow, servant. [_Ea^it 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 ?

Vol, 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 ?

Val What figure ?

Speed, By a letter, I should say.

Val, Why, she hath not writ to me.

Speed, What need she, when she hath made you
write to yourself? Why, do you not perceive the
jest?

Val, No, believe me.

Speed, No believing you indeed, sir: But did
you perceive her earnest ?

Val, She gave me none, except an angry
word.

Speed, Why, she hath given you a letter.

Val, That's the letter I writ to her friend.

Speed, And that letter hath she deUvered, and
there an end.

Scene II. OF VERONA. 97

VaL I would, it were no worse.

Speed, ril warrant you, 'tis as well :
For often you have writ to her ; and she, in modesty ^
Or else for xvant 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'5 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 ;

VOL. I. H

98 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

The tide is now : nay, not the tide of tears ;
That tide will stay me longer than I should ;

\\Ea:it 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.

[Ea^eunt,

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
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

4 Kindred.

Scene HI. OF VERONA. 99

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^ 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, —

^ Crazy, distracted.
H 2

100 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

Laim, 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'5 Palace,

Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, and Speed.

Sir, Servant — -

Val, Mistress?

Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns on you.

Val, Ay, boy, it's for love.

Speed, Not of you.

Val. Of my mistress then.

Speed, 'Twere good, you knocked him.

Sil, Servant, you are sad.^

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.

Thu. What seem I that I am not ?

Val. Wise.

Thu, What instance of the contrary ?

Val. Your folly.

Thu. And how quote" you my folly ?

Val. I quote it in your jerkin.

® Serious.. 7 Note, observe.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 101

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.

Val Well, then, I'll double your folly.

Thu. How?

Sil, What, angry, sir Thurio ? do you change
colour ?

VaL Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind of
cameleon.

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your
blood, than live in your air.

Val, You have said, sir.

Thu, Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.

VaL I know it well, sir ; you always end ere
you begin.

SiL A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and
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.

Thu, Sir, if you spend word for word with me,
I shall make your wit bankrupt.

Val, I know it well, sir ; you have an exchequer
of words, and, I think no other^ treasure to give
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 ?

H S'

102 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

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 de-
serves
The honour and regard of such a father.

Duke, You know him well ?

VaL 1 knew him as myself; for from oiir 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,)
He 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,
He is as worthy for an empress' love,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
We]l, sir ; this gentleman is come to me,
With commendation from great potentates ;
And here he means to spend his time a-while :
1 think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.

FaL Should I have wish'd a thing, 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^ him to it:
I'll send him hither to you presently. [_JSa^it Duke.

Val, This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship,

^ Incite.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 103

Had come along with me, but that his mistress
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.

SiL Behke, that now. she hath enfranchised them
Upon some other pawn for fealty.

Val, 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 ?

VaL Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes.

Thu, They say, that love hath not an eye at all.

VaL To see such lovers, Thurio as yourself;
Upon a homely object love can wink.

Enter Proteus.

SiL Have done, have done; here comes the
gentleman.

VaL Welcome, dear Proteus ! — Mistress, I be-
seech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.

SiL 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 disabihty: —
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.

H 4

104 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

Enter Servant.

Ser, Madam, my lord your father would speak
with you.

SiL I'll wait upon his pleasure. \_Ea:it 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.

\_Ea^eunt Silvia, Thurio, 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 imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
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,
And made them w^atchers of 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.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 105

Pro, Enough ; I read your fortune in your eye :
Was this the idol that you worship so ?

Val, Even she ; and is she not a heavenly saint ?

Pr^o, No ; but she is an earthly paragon*

Val, Call her divine.

Pro, I will not flatter her.

Val. O, flatter me ; for love delights in praises.

Pro, When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills ;
And I must minister the like to you.

Val, Then speak the truth by her ; if not divine.
Yet let her be a principality.
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.

Pro, Except my mistress.

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 j
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.

106 TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

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,
Determined of: how I must climb her window;
The ladder made of cords ; and all the means
Plotted, and 'greed on, for my happiness.
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber.
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel.

Pro, Go on before j I shall enquire you forth :
I must unto the road, to disembark
Some necessaries that I needs must use ;
And then 1*11 presently attend you.

VaL Will you make haste ?

Pro. I will. — \_Ea:it 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 ad vice ^
That thus without advice begin to love her ?
'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld,
And that hath dazzled my reason's light ;
9 On further knowledge.

Scene V. OF VERONA. 107

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. [^Ea;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.

>iS^e^^. 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.

108 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IL

Speed. But tell me true, wilFt be a match ?

Laun, Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will ; if he
say, no, it willj 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 is become a not-
able 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.

Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not though he
burn 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 :
O sweet-suggesting^ love, if thou hast sinn'd,

1 Tempting.

Scene VI. OF VERONA. 109

Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it.
At first I did adore a twinkling star,
But now I worship a celestial sun.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken ;
And he wants wit, that wants' resolved will
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. —
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue ! to call her bad,
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferred
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 Silvia as a sweeter friend.
I cannot now prove constant to myself.
Without some treachery used to Valentine : —
This night he meaneth with a corded ladder
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber- window ;
Myself in counsel, his competitor^:
Now presently I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising, and pretended^ 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 ! [^Ea:it,
2 Confederate. 3 Intended.

no TWO GENTLEMEN Act II.

SCENE VII.
Verona. A Room in Julia'5 House.

Enter Julia and Lucetta.

Jul. Counsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me !
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, —
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts
Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, —
To lesson me ; and tell me some good mean.
How, with my honour, I may undertake
A journey to my loving Proteus.

Luc. Alas ! the way is wearisome and long.

Jul. 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.

Lv€. Better forbear, till Proteus make return.

Jul. 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.
Did'st 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 ;
But, when his fair course is not hindered.
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones.
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

Scene VII. OF VERONA. Ill

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,

With wiUing 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^

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
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.

Jul, Base men that use them to so base effect !
But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth :
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ;
4 Trouble.

112 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

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 oi\
To furnish me upon my longing^ 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.

ACT III.

SCENE I. — Milan. An Anti-room in the Duke*5 Palace,

FMter Duke, Thurio, and Proteus.

Duke, Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray awhile ;
We have some secrets to confer about. —

\_Ea:it Thurio.
Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me ?
Fro, My gracious lord, that which I would dis-
cover,
The law of friendship bids me to conceal :
But, when I call to mind your gracious favours
* Longed for.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 113

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 determined 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 sorrows, 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 purposed to forbid
Sir Valentine her company, and my court :
But, fearing lest my jealous aim^ might err.
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man,
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,)
I gave him gentle looks ; thereby to find
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this.
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested \
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower,
The key whereof myself have ever kept ;
And thence she cannot be conveyed 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 ;

^ Guess. 7 Tempted,

VOL. I. 1

114 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

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 aimed'' at ;
For love of you, not hate unto my friend.
Hath made me publisher of this pretence.^

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.

Enter Valentine.

Duke, Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ?

Val, Please it your grace, there is a messenger
That stays to bear my letters to my friends.
And I am going to deliver them.

Duke, Be they of much import ?

Val, The tenor of them doth 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 affairs,
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.

Val, 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 ; she is peevish, sullen, fro-
ward.
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ;
^ Guessed. ^ Design.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 115

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 ; 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 myselfi
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.

I 2

116 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

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 1 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 ;
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it
Without apparent hazard of his life.

Val, 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 thou art a gentleman of blood.
Advise me where I may have such a ladder.
Val, When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.
Duke, This very night ; for love is like a child.
That longs for every thing 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 j

I'll get me one of such another length.

Val, Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord.

Scene I. . OF VERONA. Ul

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.

My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly ;

And slaves they are to me^ that send themjlying :
O, could their master come and go as lightly.

Himself would lodge, where senseless they are
lying.
My lierald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them ;

While /, their king, that thither them importune.
Do curse the grace that with sujch grace hath blessed
them.

Because myself do want my servanf s fortune :
I curse myselfjbr 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 !
Bestow 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,
Which, 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 wrath shall far exceed the love
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself.

i3

118 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III

Begone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence.

\^Ea:it Duke.
VaL And why not death, rather than living tor-
ment?
To die, is to be banish' d from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her,
Is self from self; a deadly banishment !
What hght is light, if Silvia be not seen ?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think that she is by.
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night.
There is no musick in the nightingale ;
Unless 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.

Fro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Laiin, 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 ?

Scene I. OF VERONA. 119

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 stopped, and cannot hear good
news,
So much of bad already hath possessed them.

Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine,
For they are harsh, untunable, and bad.

VaL Is Silvia dead?

Pro, No, Valentine.

VaL No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia ! —
Hath she forsworn me ?

Pro, No, Valentine.

VaL No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me ! —
What is your news ?

Laun, Sir, there's a proclamation that you are
vanished.

Pro, That thou art banished, O, that's the news ;
F'rom 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 j
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,

I 4

120 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

When she for thy repeal was suppHant,
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 thee, 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 ;
Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that.
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence ;
Which, being writ to me, shall be 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.

VaL 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.

Val, 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 be 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.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 121

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 j 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 ^ 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.

^ St. Nicholas presided over young scholars.

122 TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

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 will often praise her liquor.

Laun. If her liquor be good, she shall : if she will
not, I will ; for good things should be praised.

Speed. 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 hairSy —

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 ! \_Ea:it.

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.

1 Fro ward. 2 Licentious in language.

Scene II. OF VERONA. 123

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 ^ 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 ?

Fro. Gone, my good lord.

Duke, My daughter takes his going grievously.

Fro, 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.

Fro, 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.

Fro, 1 do, my lord.

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

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

Duke, Ay, and perversely she persevers so.
3 Cut.

12* TWO GENTLEMEN Act III.

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.

Pro, And that, my lord, I shall be loth to do :
'Tis an ill office for a gentleman ;
Especially, against his very friend.

Duke, Where your good word cannot advantage
him.
Your slander never can endamage him ;
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.

Thu, Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
Lest it should ravel, and be good to none.
You must provide to bottom it on me :
Which must be done, by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine.

Duke, And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this
kind;
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 ;

Scene II. OF VERONA. 125

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^ 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 ^ ; 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^ 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,
4 Birdlime. ^ Mournful elegy. « choose out.

126 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. — A Foi-est 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.

Val, My friends, —

1 Out, That's not so, sir ; we are your enemies.
^ Out, Peace ; we'll hear him.

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

Val, Then know, that I have little wealth to lose ;
A man I am, cross' d with adversity :
My riches are these poor habiliments.
Of which if you should here disfurnish me.
You take the sum and substance that I have.

2 Out, Whither travel you ?
Val, To Verona.

1 Out, Whence came you ?
Val, From Milan.

S Out, Have you long sojourn'd there ?
Val, Some sixteen months ; and longer might
have staid,
If crooked fortune had not thwarted me.

7 Well looking.

Scene I. OF VERONA. 127

1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence ?
VaL I was.

2 Out, For what offence ?

VaL For that which now torments me to re-
hearse :
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 ?

Val, I was, and held me glad of such a doom.

1 Out, Have you the tongues ? ^

Val, 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.
Val, 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 gen-

tlemen,
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth
Thrust from the company of awful ^ 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 ?

^ Languages. 9 Lawful.

128 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

To make a virtue of necessity,

And live, as we do, in this wilderness ?

3 Out. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be of our
consort ?
Say, ay, and be the captain of us all :
We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee,
Love thee as our commander, and our king.

1 Out, But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest.

S Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have
offered.

Val, 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.

{^Exeunt.

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 ;

SeENE IL OF VERONA. 1^9

And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips %
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope,
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love,
The more it grows and fawneth on her still.
But here comes Tliurio : now must we to her win-
dow.
And give some evening musick to her ear.

Enter Thurio, and Musicians.

Tku. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept be-
fore 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, gentle-
men.
Let's tune, and to it lustily a while.

Enter Host, at a distance; and Julia in bot/'s clothes.

Host, Now, my young guest ! methinks you're
allycholly ; I pray you, why is it ?

Jul, Marry, mine host, because I cannot be
merry.

Host, Come, we'll have you merry : I'll bring
you where you shall hear musick, and see the gen-
tleman that you ask'd for.

Jul, But shall I hear him speak ?

Host, Ay, that you shall.

Jul, That will be musick. [^Musick plays.

Host, Hark I hark !

Jul, Is he among these ?

Host, Ay : but peace, let's hear 'em.

^ Passionate reproaches.
VOL. I. K

rso TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

SONG.

TfTio is Silvia P 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 he. .

Is she kind, as she is fair ?

For beauty lives with kindness :
Love doth to her eyes repair.

To help him of his blindness ;
Andf being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing.

That Silvia is ejrcelling ;
She cancels 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.

Jul. You mistake ; the musician hkes 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 ?

ScENt: II. OF VERONA. 131

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 ?

HosL I tell you wliat Launce, his man, told me,
he loved her out of all nick. ^

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. [^Es:eunl Thurio 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, SirProteus, gentle lady, and your servant.

Sil, What is your will ?

Pro, That I may compass yours.

Sil. 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,

' Beyond all reckoning.
K 2

132 TWO GENTLEMEN Acr IV.

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.

Jul, 'Twere false, if I should speak it ;

For I am sure, she is not buried. \_Aside,

Sil, Say that she be ; yet Valentine, thy friend,
Survives ; to whom, thyself art witness,
I am betroth'd : And art thou notasham'd
To wrong him with thy importunacy ? '^O

Pro. I likewise hear, that Valentine is dead.

Sil, And so, suppose, am 1 ; 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.

[^Ejceunt Proteus, and Silvia Jrom above.

Scene III. OF VERONA. 1S3

Jul Host, will you go ?

Host, By my hallidom 2, 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.

\_Ea^eunt,

SCENE III.

The same.

Enter Eglamour.

Egl, This is the hour that madam Silvia
Entreated me to call, and know her mind ;
There's some great matter she'd employ me in. —
Madam, madam !

Silvia appears above, at her window.

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.

aS'^7. 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 I have heard thee say,

^ Holy dame, blessed lady. ^ Injunction, command.

^ Compassionate.

K S

1S4. TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

No grief did ever come so near thy heart,

As when thy lady and thy true love died,

Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.

Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine,

To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode ;

And, for the ways are dangerous to pass,

I do desire thy worthy company.

Upon whose faith and honour 1 repose.

Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour,

But think upon my grief i 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^ as little what betideth me.
As much I wish all good befortune you.
When will you go ?

SiL This evening coming.

EgL Where shall I meet you ?

SiL At friar Patrick's cell.

Where I intend holy confession.

EgL I will not fail your ladyship :
Good-morrow, gentle lady.

SiL Good-morrow, kind sir Eglamour. \_Ejceunt,

^ Caring.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 13$

SCENE IV.

JTie same.

Enter Launce, 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 5 one that I saved from drowning, when three
or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it !
I 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^ 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 fbr't ; sure as I live, he had suffered
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 fbr't : thou think' st not of this
now!

Enter Proteus and Julia.

Pro, Sebastian is thy name ? I like thee well.
And will employ thee in some service presently.

Jul, In what you please ; — I will do what I can.

Pro, 1 hope thou wilt. — How now, you idle
peasant ? [To Launce.

Where have you been these two days loitering ?

Lau7i, Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia the
dog you bade me.

^ Restrain.
K 4

1 36 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

Pro. And what says she to my little jewel ?

Latm. 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.

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

Laun, Ay, sir ; the other squirrel was stolen from
me by the h',-gman's boys in the market-place :
and then 1 i lered her mine own ; who is a dog as
big as t' -; 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^, turns me to shame.

\_Ea;it 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 ; I think, she lives.

Jul. Alas!

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas ?

Jul. I cannot choose but pity her.
2 In the end.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 137

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.

\_EMt Proteus.

Jul, How many women would do such a message?
Alas, poor Proteus 1 thou hast entertain' d
A fox, to be the shepherd of thy lambs :
Alas, poor fool ! why do I pity him
Thaf 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 coldly.
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.
Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she ?

188 TWO GENTLEMEN Act IV.

Jul, If you be she, I do entreat your patience
To hear me speak the message I am sent on.

SiL From whom ?

Jul. From my master, sh' Proteus, madam.

SiL O ! — he sends you for a picture ?

Jul. 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.

SiL The more shame for him that he sends it me:
For I have heard him say a thousand times.
His Julia gave it him at his departure :
Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring,
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong.

Jul. She thanks you.

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.

ScKNE IV. OF VERONA. 139

Jul. I think she doth, and that's her cause of
sorrow.

SiL Is she not passing fair ?

Jul She hath been fairer, madam, than she is :
When she did think my master lov'd her well.
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ;
But since she did neglect her looking-glass.
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 ®,
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 ^,
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 ! —
I 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. {Edt Silvia.

Jul, And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you
know her. —
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful.
® Whitsuntide. . ^ In good earnest.

140 TWO GENTLEMEN Act V.

I hope my master's suit will be but cold,

Since slie respects my mistress' love so much.

Alas, how love can trifle with itself!

Here is her picture : Let me see ; I think,

Tf 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 shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd;

And, were there sense in his idolatry.

My substance should be statue in thy stead.

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 with thee. \_Ea:iL

ACT V.

SCENE I.— The same. An Abbei/,

Enter Eglamour.

EgL The sun begins to gild the western sky ;
And now, it is about the very hour
^ Head-dress.

ScBjNE II. OF VERONA. Ul

That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me.
She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time j
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;
If we recover that, we are sure enough. [Ea^eunt,

SCENE II.

TTie same. An Apartment in the Duke'5 Palace,

Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia.

Thu, Sir Proteus, w^hat 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, 111, when you talk of war.

Thu, But well, when I discourse of love, and
peace ?

142 TWO GENTLEMEN Act V.

JuL But better, indeed, when you hold your
peace. \_Aside.

Thu, What says she to my valour ?
Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that.
JuL She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.

\_Aside.
Thu, What says she to my birth ?
Pro, That you are well deriv'd.
JuL True ; from a gentleman to a fool. [^Aside.
Thu, Considers she my possessions ?
Pro. O, ay ; and pities them.
Thu. Wherefore ?

JuL That such an ass should owe^ them. [Aside.
Pro. That they are out by lease.
JuL Here comes the duke.

Enter Duke.

Duke. How now, sir Proteus ? how now, Thurio ?
Which of you saw sir 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

2 Own.

Scene IIL OF VERONA. US

Upon the rising of the mountain foot

That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled :

Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. \_Ejcit,

Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl.
That flies her fortune when it follows her :
I'll after ; more to be reveng'd on Eglamour,
Than for the love of reckless ^ Silvia. [Exit.

Pro, And I will follow, more for Silvia's love,
Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. \_Ea;it.

Jul. And I will follow, more to cross that love.
Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. \_Ea:it,

SCENE IIL

Frmitiers of Mantua. The Fot^est.

Enter Silvia and Out-laws.

Out, Come, come ;
Be patient, we must bring you to our captain.

Stl, A thousand more mischances than this 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.

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood,
There is our captain ; we'll follow him that's fled j
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 ! [^Ea^eunt.
^ Careless.

14* TWO GENTLEMEN Act V.

SCENE IV.

Another part of the Forest.

Enter Valentine.

VaL How use doth breed a habit in a man !
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns :
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any.
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes.
Tune my distresses, and record "^ my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast.
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
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 ?

[Steps 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 j
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg,
And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give.

VaL How like a dream is this I see and hear !
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [Aside.

4 Sing.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. . 14:^

SiL O miserable, unhappy that I am 1

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. \_AsifIe,

SiL Had I been seiz'd by a hungry lion,
I 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 be gone, 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, ^
When women cannot love where they're beloy'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 had'st two,
And that's far worse than none ; better have none
Than plural faith, which is too much by one :
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend !

Pro, In love,

Who 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.

-' Felt, experienced.
VOL. I. L

146 TWO GENTLEMEN Act V.

SiL O heaven !

Pro, I'll force thee yield to my desire.

Val, Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ;
Thou friend of an ill fashion !

Pro, Valentine !

VaL Thou common friend, that's without faith
or love ;
(For such is a friend now,) treacherous man !
Thou hastbeguil'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 confounds me. —
Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer,
As e'er I did commit.

VaL Then I am paid;

And once again I do receive thee honest : —
Who by repentance is not satisfied.
Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd ;
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd : —
And, that my love may appear plain and free.
All that was mine in Silvia, I give thee.

Jul O me unhappy ! \_Faints,

Pro, Look to the l3oy.

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 ;
Wliich, out of my neglect, was never done.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. m

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.

\^Shows another ring.

Pro. But, how cam'»t thou by this ring? at my
depart,
I gave this unto Julia.

Jul. And Juha herself did give it me ;
And Julia herself hath brought it hither.

Pro. How! Juha!

Jul. Behold her that gave aim ® to all thy oaths,
And entertained them deeply in her heart :
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root?''
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 men their
minds.

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 ?

Val. Come, come, a hand from either :
Let me be blest to make this happy close ;
*Twere pity two such friends should be long foes.

Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for
ever.

Jul. And I have mine.

* Direction. 7 ^.n allusion to cleaving the pin in archery.
L 2

148 TWO GENTLEMEN Act V.

' Ew/^O lit- Jaws, with Duke and Thurio.

Out, A prize, a prize, a prize !

Val. 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.

Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy
death ;
Come not within the measure of" my wrath :^
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 dare 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 ^ for her as thou hast done.
And leave her on such slight conditions. —
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
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^

Val, I thank your grace ; the gifb 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.

^ Length of my sword. ^ Interest.

Scene IV. OF VERONA. 14.9

Val 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 prevailed : 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.

VaL And, as we walk along, I dare behold
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 : he
blushes.

VaL I warrant you, my lord ; more grace than
boy.

Duke, What mean you by that saying ?

Val, Please you, 1*11 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.

\_Ea:eunt.

* Conclude.

l3

MERRY WIVES

OF

WINDSOR.

l4

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Sir John Falstaff.
Fen TON.

Shallow, a country Justice,
Slender, cousin to Shallow.

lyr ' p ' f l^^ gentlemen dweUing at Windsor.

William Page, a boy, son to Mr. Page.

Sir Hugh Evans, a Welch parson.

Dr. Caius, a French physician.

Host of the Garter Inn.

Bardolph, ^

Pistol, V followers of Falstaff.

Nym, J

Robin, page to Falstaff.

Simple, servant to Slender,

Rugby, servant to Dr. Caius.

Mrs. Ford.

Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Anne Page, her daughter, in love with Fenton.

Mrs. Quickly, servant to Dr. Caius.

Servants to Page, Ford, ^c,

SCENE, Windsor ; and the parts adjacent.

MERRY WIVES

OF

WINDSOR.

ACT I.

SCENE I. — Windsor. Before Vage's 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.

Shal. 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.

Shal. Ay, that we do ; and have done any time
these three hundred years.

^ A title formerly appropriated to chaplains.
^ Custos Rotulornm.

154 MERRY WIVES Act 1.

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 5 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.

Slen. I may quarter, coz ?

Shal, You may, by marrying.

Eva, It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.

Shal, Not a whit.

Eva, Yes, py'r^lady ; if he has a quarter of your
coat, there is but three skirts for yourself i in my
simple conjectures : but this is all one : If sir John
FalstafF have committed disparagements unto you,
I am of the church, and will be glad to do my be-
nevolence, to make atonements and compromises
between you.

Shal, The 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"* 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

3 By our. ^Advisement.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 155

just as you will desire : and seven hundred pounds
of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire,
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 her father is make her a petter
penny.

Shal, 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-
willers. 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.

156 MERRY WIVES Act I.

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 out-run on Cotsale.^

Page, It could not be judg'd, sir.

Slen» You'll not confess, you II 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 hath; — believe me;
— Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong'd.

Page, Here comes sir John.

Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym,
and Pistol.

Fal, Now, master Shallow ; you'll complain of
me to the king ?

Shal, Knight you have beaten my men, killed my
deer, and broke open my lodge: this shall beanswer'd.

Fal, I will answer it straight ; — I have done all
this : — That is now answer'd.

Shal, The Council shall know this.

Fal, 'Twere better for you, if it were known in
counsel : you'll be laugh'd at.

^ Cotswold, in Gloucestershire.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 157

Eva, Pauca verba, sir John, good worts.

FaL Good worts ^ ! good cabbage. — Slender, I
broke your head ; What matter have you againstme?

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.

Bar^ You Banbury cheese I ^

Slen, Ay, it is no matter.

Pist, How now, Mephostophilus?^

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 V2ige,jLdeUcet, master Page ;
and there is myse\i',Jlde licet, 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 w^ould
I might never come in mine own great chamber
again else,) of sqyqw groats in mill-sixpences, and
two Edward shovel-boards ^, that cost me two shil-
lings and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by
these gloves.

6 Worts was the ancient name of all the cabbage kind.

7 Nothing but paring ! s The name of an ugly spirit.

^ King Edward's shillings used in the game of shuffleboard

166 MERRY WIVES Act I*

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
nuthook's^ 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 ?

Bard. 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-
rance is !

Bard, And being fap"^, sir, was, as they say,
cashier'd; and so conclusions pass'd the careires.^

Slen, Ay, you spake in Latin then too : but 'tis
no matter : 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.

Enter Mistress Anne Page with wine ; Mistress
Ford and Mistress Vag^ following.

Page, Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we'll
drink within. \_Ea:it Anne Page.

^ Blade as thin as a lath. 2 Lips.

3 If you say I am a thief. ^ Drunk.

^ The bounds of good behaviour.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 159

Slen, O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page.

Page, How now, mistress Ford ?

Fal, Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very
well met : by your leave, good mistress.

[^Kissing 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.

[Ea^eunt 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
of Riddles about you, have you ?

Sim, Book of Riddles ! why did you not lend it
to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fort-
night afore Michaelmas ? ^

Shal, 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
off 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.

Shal, 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, 1 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.

^ An intended blunder.

160 MERRY WIVES Act I.

ShaL 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 1 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 will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, and
dissolutely.

Eva, It is a fery discretion answer ; save, the
faul* is in the *ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, according
to 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.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 161

Re-enter Anne Page.

ShaL Here comes fair mistress Anne : — Would
I 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.

[Ea^eunt Shallow and Sir H. Evans.

Anne, Will'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 : [_Ea:it 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, Ffaith, I'll eat nothing ; I thank you as
much as though 1 did.

Anne, I pray you, sir, walk in.

Sleji, 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 ?

7 Three set-to's, bouts, or hits.
VOL. I M

162 MERRY WIVES Act I.

Anne, Ay, indeed, sir.

Slen, That's meat and drink to me now : I have
seen Sackerson ^ 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^ : — 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, ril rather be unmannerly than trouble-
some ; you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. \_Exeunt,

SCENE 11.
The same.

Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple.

Eva, Go your ways, and ask of doctor Caius'
house, which is the way: and there dwells one
mistress Quickly, which is in the manner of his
nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry,
his washer, and his wringer.

Sim, Well, sir.

^ The name of a bear exhibited at Paris-Garden in South-
wark. 9 Surpassed all expression.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 1^9

Eva, Nay, it is petter yet : give her this

letter ; for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaint-
ance with mistress Anne Page ; and the letter is,
to desire 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. \\Ea:eunt.

SCENE III.
A Room in the Garter Inn.

Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, 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 emperor, 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
thee froth, and lime : I am at a word ; follow.

[_Ea:it 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.

Bard, It is a life that I have desired ; I will thrive.

\^Ea:it Bard.

Pist, O base Gongarian* wight! wilt thou the
spigot wield ?

^ For Hungarian.

M 2

164 MERRY WIVES Act T.

Nym» His mind is not heroick, and there's the
humour of it.

Fal, I am glad, I am so acquit of this tinderbox :
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.

Fist, Convey, the wise it call : Steal ! foh, a fico^
for the phrase ! ^

Fah Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.

Fist, Why then let kibes ensue.

Fah There is no remedy ; I must shift.

Fist, Young ravens must have food.

Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town ?

Fist, I ken the wight ; he is of substance good.

Fal, My honest lads, I will tell you what I am
about.

Fist, Tw^o yards and morci

Fal, No quips now. Pistol ; indeed I am in the
waist two yards about : but I am now about no
waste ; 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
familiar style ; and the hardest voice of her beha-
viour, to be English'd rightly, is, / am sir John
Falstaff's,

Fist, 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.

Fist, 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

2 Fig.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 165

eyes too ; she bears the purse too ; she is a region
in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater^
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;^
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. —
Rogues, hence avaunt ! vanish like hail-stones, go ;
Trudge, plod away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack!
Falstaffwill learn the humour of this age,
French thrift, you rogues; myselfj and skirted page.
[Ea:eunt Falstaff and Robin.

Pist, Let vultures gripe thee, for gourd and
fullam^ holds.
And high and low beguile the rich and poor :
Tester Til have in pouch ^, when thou shalt 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 this 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.

3 Escheatour, an officer in the Exchequer. -* Cleverly.

^ False dice. ^ Sixpence I'll have in pocket.

m3

166 MERRY WIVES Act I.

Nym, My humour shall not cool: I will incense^
Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with
yellowness ^ for the revolt of mien is dangerous :
that is my true humour.

Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents: I second
thee ; troop on. [^Ea^eunt,

SCENE IV.
A Room in Dr, Caius'5 House.

Enter Mrs, Quickly, Simple, and Rugby.

Quick, What; John Rugby! — I pray thee, go to
the casement, and see if you can see my master,
master doctor Caius, coming : if he do, i'faith, and
find any body in the house, here will be an old
abusing of the king's English.

Rug. I'll go watch. \_Ea:it 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
come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no tell-
tale, nor no breed-bate^: his worst fault is, that he
is given to prayer ; he is something peevish ^ that
way : but nobody but has his fault ; — but let that
pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is ?
. Sim. Ay, for fault of a better.

Quick, And master Slender's your master ?

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 Cain- coloured beard.

Quick, A softly-sprighted man, is he not ?

Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as talP a man of

7 Instigate. ^ Jealousy. ^ Strife.

J Foolish. 2 Brave.

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 16^

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^: 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. Fcy fe, fe, fe ! ma foi, it fait fort chaud,
Je m^en vais d la cour, — la grande affaire.

Quick, Is it this, sir ?

Caius. Oui/; mette le au ?wow pocket; Depeche,
quickly : — Vere is dat knave Rugby ?

Quick, What, John Rugby ! John !

^ Scolded, reprimanded.

M 4

168 MERRY WIVES Act I

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.

Eug. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch.

Caius, By my trot, I tarry too long: — Od's me!
Qu^ay youhlie ? dere is some simples in my closet,
dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind.

Quick, Ah me ! he'll find the young man there,
and be mad.

Caius. O diable, diable ! vat is in my closet? —
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
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, baillez
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, Til do your master what good I can: and the

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 169

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
]ate : — but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your
ear ; I would have no words of it ;) my master him-
self is in love with mistress Anne Page ; but not-
withstanding that, — I know Anne's mind, —
that's neither here nor there.

Caius, You jack'nape y give-a dis letter to sir
Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge ; I vil 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. \_Ea:it 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 vill kill de jack priest; and I have
appointed 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.

V_Ea:eunt 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.

Fent, \_Within,~] Who's within there, ho?

Quick, Who's there, I trow ? Come near the
house, I pray you.

170 MERRY WIVES Act I. Sc. IV.

Enter Fenton.

Fent, How now, good woman ; how dost thou ?

Quick, The better, that it pleases your good
worship to ask.

Fent, What news ? how does pretty mistress
Anne ?

Quick, In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and
honest, and 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
book she loves you : — Have not your worship a
wart above your eye ?

Fent, Yes, marry, have I ; what of that?

Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale ; — good faith,
it is such another Nan ; — but, I detesf^, an honest
maid as ever broke bread : — We had an hour's
talk of that wart ; — I shall never laugh but in that
maid's company ! — But, indeed, she is given too
much to alii c hoi ly ^ and musing: But for you —
Well, go to.

Fent, Well, I shall see her to-day : Hold, there's
money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my be-
half: — if thou seest her before me, commend me —

Quick, Will I ? i'faith, that we will : and I will
tell your worship more of the wart, the next time
we have confidence ; and of other wooers.

Fent, Well, farewell ; I am in great haste now.

{Ea:it,

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 ? \_Ea:it,

^ She means, I protest. ^ Melancholy,

Act II. Sc. I. OF WINDSOR. 11%

ACT 11.

SCENE L— 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^, he admits him not
for his counsellor : You are not young, no more am
I : go to then, there* s sympathy : you are merry, so
am I ; Ha ! ha ! then there* s mo7^e sympathy : you
love sack, and so do I ; Would you desire better
sympathy ? Let it suffice thee, mistress Page, (at
the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice,') that I
love thee, I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-
like phrase ; hut I say, love me. By me.

Thine own true knight.

By day or night.

With all his might.

For thee to fight,

John Falstaff.
O wicked, wicked world ! — one that is well nigh
worn to pieces with age, to show himself a young
gallant ! What unweighed behaviour hath this
Flemish 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 I 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 re-
venged on him ? for revenged I will be.

^ Most probably Shakspeare wrote physician.

17^ MERRY WIVES Act II.

Enter Mistress Ford.

Mrs, Ford, Mistress Page ! trust me, I was going
to your house.

Mrs, Page, And trust me, I was coming to you.
You look very ill.

Mrs, Ford, Nay, I'll ne'er believe that ; I have
to show to the contrary.

Mrs, Page, 'Faith, but you do, in my mind.

Mrs, Ford, Well, I do then ; yet, I say, I could
show 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 !

Mrs, Page, Hang the trifle, woman : take the
honour : What is it ? — dispense with trifles ; —
what is it ?

Mrs, Ford, If I would but go to hell for an
eternal moment, I could be knighted.

Mrs, Page, What ? — Sir AHce Ford !

Mrs. Ford, We burn day-light : — here, read,
read ; — perceive how I might be knighted, — I
shall think the worse of fat men, as long as 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 to-
gether, 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 ?

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 17^

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 protest, mine never shall. I warrant, he hath
a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for
different names, (sure more,) and these are of the
second edition : He will print them out of doubt.

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 vil-
lainy against him, that may not sully the chariness^
of our honesty. O, that my husband saw this let-
ter ! 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
unmeasurable distance.

Mrs, Ford, You are the happier woman.

Mrs, Page, Let's consult together against this
greasy knight : Come hither. [They retire.

Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym.
Ford, Well, I hope it be not so.
Pist, Hope is a curtail ^ dog in some affairs :
Sir John affects thy wife.

7 Caution. s ^ dog that misses his game.

174 MERRY WIVES Act II.

Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young.

Pist, He wooes both high and low, both rich and
poor.
Both young and old, one with another, Ford ;
He loves thy gally-mawfry^; 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. [^Eocit 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 let-
ter to her : but I have a sword, and it shall bite
upon my necessity. He loves your wife ; there's
the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym;
I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true : — my name is
Nym, and FalstafT 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 fel-
low 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 Cataian^ tho* the
priest o' the town commended him for a true man.
s A medley. ^ Consider. 2 ^ lying sharper.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 175

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 comes 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 come to see my daughter
Anne ?

Quick, Ay, forsooth \ and, I pray, how does good
mistress Anne ?

Mrs, Pagey Go in with us, and see ; we have an
hour's talk with you.

\^Fa;eunt Mrs, Page, Mrs, Ford, and
Mrs, Quickly.

Page, How now, master Ford ?

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 ?

176 MERRY WIVES Act II.

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, 1 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
now, 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.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 177

Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my
guest-cavaher ?

Ford, None, I protest: but Til 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, 1 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, here, here ! shall we wag ?

Fage. 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
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.

[_Exit,

VOL. I. N

m MERRY WIVES Act II.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Garter Inn,

Enter Falstaff and Pistol.

Fal, I will not lend thee a penny.

Tist, Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open. —
I will retort the sum in equipage. ^

FaL Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you
should lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated
upon my good friends for three reprieves for you
and your coach-fellow '^ 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 ?

Fal, 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 ^ : — to your manor
of Pickt-hatch ^ go. — You'll not bear a letter for
me, you rogue ! — you stand upon your honour! —
Why, thou unconfinable 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 J and yet you, rogue, will ensconce ^ your

3 Pay you again in stolen goods.

^ Draws along with you. ^ To cut purses in a crowd.

^ Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell. "^ Protect.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 179

rags, your cat-a. mountain looks, your red-lattice ^
phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, under the
shelter of your honour ! You will not do it, you ?
Pist. I do relent ; what would'st thou more of
man ?

Enter Robin.

Roh, Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
FaL Let her approach.

Enter Mistress 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, ril be sworn ; as my mother was, tlie
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 this ways ; — I myself dwell
with master doctor Caius.

Fal, Well, on : Mistress 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.

Quick, Are they so? Heaven bless them, and
make them his servants !

Fal, Well : Mistress Ford : — what of her ?

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, —

^ Ale-house.

N 2 •

180 MERRY WIVES Act IL

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, 1 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 briefi 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.

9 A mistake of Mrs. Quickly 's for quandary.
* Know. ^ Fretful, peevish.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 181

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. 1
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 deserves it : for if
there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one.
You must send her your psfge ; no remedy.

Fal, Why, 1 will.

Quick, Nay, but do so, then : and, look you, he
may come and go between you both ; and, in any
case, have a nay-word ^ that you may know one
another's mind, and the 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.

3 By all means. 4 ^ watch-word.

N S

182 MERRY WIVES AciIL

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 \

[Ea:eunt 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!

\_Emt 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.

Bard. 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 ?

Bard, 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 !^

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. \_Ea:it Bardolph.

Ford, Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent
much ; my name is Brook.

FaL Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint-
ance of you.

''^ A cant phrase of exultation.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 18S

Foj'd, 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
register of your own ; that I may pass with a re-
proof the easier, sith ^ 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 but
niggardly give me vsight of her ; not only bought

6 Since.
N 4

184 MERRY WIVES Act IL

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
purchased at an infinite rate ; and that hath taught
me to say this :

Love like a shadow Jiies, when substance love pursues^
Pursuing that thatjlies, andjlying 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. To what purpose have you 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'', authen-
tic in your place and person, generally allowed ^
for your many warlike, courtlike, and learned pre-
parations.

Fal. O, sir !

Ford, Believe it, for -^oxx know it. — There is

7 In the greatest companies. ^ Approved.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 185

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 1 should win what you would
enjoy ? Methinks, you prescribe to yourself very
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.

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
eleven ; for at that time the jealous rascally knave,
her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at
night j you shall know how I speed.

186 MERRY WIVES Act IL

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 my cudgel : it shall hang like a meteor o'er
his horns : master Brook, thou shalt 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 I will aggravate his stile ^; thou, master
Brook, shalt know him for a knave and cuckold: —
come to me soon at night. \_Ea^it,

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 coffers 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-vitae 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
'•* Add to his titles.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 187

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
three 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!

Rug, Sir.

Caius, Vat is de clock. Jack ?

Rug, 'Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro-
mised to meet.

Caius, By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no
come ; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he is no
come : by gar. Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if
he be come.

Rug, 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.
Shal, 'Save you, master doctor Caius.
Page, Now, good master doctor !
Slen, Give you good-morrow, sir.

188 MERRY WIVES Act II.

Caius, Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come
for?

Host, To see thee fight, to see thee fbin^ 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 montant.^ 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 Castihan king! a Hector of
Greece, 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 : he 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 j 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.

' Fence. '^ Terms in fencing.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 189

Host. Pardon, guest justice : — ^^ A word, monsieur.

Cains, Scurvy jack-dog priest ! by gar, me vil
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 clapper-de-
claw me ; for by gar, me vill have it.

Host, And 1 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 ?

Shal. We will do it.

Page, Shal, and Slen, Adieu, good master doctor.
[_Ea:eunt Page, Shallow, aud Slender.

Caius. By gar, me vill kill de 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 ?

Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat : by gar, I
love you ; and I 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*

190 MERRY WIVES Act III.

ACT III.

SCENE I. — A Field near Frogmore.

Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple.

Eva. I pray you now, good master Slendei^'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. 'Pless my soul ! how full of cholers I am,
and trembling of mind ! — I shall be glad, if he
have deceived me : — how melancholies I am ! — I
will knog his knave's costard^, 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 Fabylon,

And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow

3 Head.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 191

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, oyer the stile, this way.

Eva, Pray you, give me my gown 5 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 won-
derful.

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,
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, grayity, and
learning, so wide of his own respect.

Eva, What is he ?

192 MERRY WIVES Act III.

Page. I think you know him ; master doctor
Caius, the renowned French physician.

Eva. 1 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. Diahle ! — 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 Garter.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 193

Host. Peace, I say, Guallia and Gaul, French
and Welch ; 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, I have

deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong
places : your hearts are mighty, your skins are
whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. — Come,
lay their swords to pawn : — Follow me, lad of
peace ; follow, follow, follow.

Shal, Trust me, a mad host : — Follow, gentle-
men, follow.

Slen. O, sweet An-ne Page !

[_Ea:eunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host.

Cuius. 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-
stog. — 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. [^Ea:eunt.

VOL. I.

1»* MERRY WIVES Act 111.

SCENE IL

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 see 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
were dead, you two would marry.

Mrs, Page, 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. \_Ea:eunt Mrs, Page and Robin.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 195

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 gives her folly motion, and advantage : and now
she's going to my wife, and FalstaflPs 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 Actaeon ; and to these violent
proceedings all my neighbours shall cryaim."^ [Clock
strikes,'^ The clock gives me my cue, and my as-
surance bids me search ; there I shall find Falstaff :
I shall be rather praised for this, than mocked ; for
it is as positive as the earth is firm, that Falstaff is
there : I will go.

Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir
Hugh Evans, Caius, and Rugby.

Shal, 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.

Shal, I must excuse myself, master Ford.

Slen. And so must I, sir ; we have appointed to
dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break
with her for more money than I'll speak of.

Shal, We have 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

* Shall encourage,
o ^

196 MERRY WIVES Act III.

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 ^ ; 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.

[_Ea:eunt Shallow and Slender.

Caius, Go home, John Rugby ; I come anon.

\_Ea;it Rugby.

Host, Farewell, my hearts : I will to my honest
knight Falstaflf; and drink canary with him.

[_Ea:it 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.

5 Out of the common style.

ScEKE III. OF WINDSOR. 197

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-bas-
ket—
Mrs, Ford. I warrant: — What, Robin, I say.

Enter Servants with a basket,

Mrs, Page, Come, come, come.

Mrs, Ford. Here, set it down.

Mrs. 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 brew-
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
Datchet mead, 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 ? ® what
news with you ?

Roh. My master Sir John is come in at your back-
door, mistress Ford ; and requests your company.

^ A young small hawk.
o 3

198 MERRY WIVES Act IIL

Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-lent^ 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. — Pll 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 1 do not act it,
hiss me. \_Ea:it Mrs. Page.

Mrs. Ford. Go to then ; we'll use this gross
watry pumpion ; we'll teach him to know turtles
from jays.

Enter Falstaff.

Fal. Have I caught thee, m^ heavenly jewel!
Why, now let me die, for I have Hved 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.

7 A puppet thrown at in Lent, like shrove-cocks.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 199

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 ^ in simple-time ; I cannot : but I
love thee ; none but thee ; and thou deservest it.

Mrs, Ford, Do not betray me, sir ; I fear, you
love mistress Page.

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 ^ me
behind the arras.

Mrs, Ford, Pray you, do so ; she's a very tat-
tling woman. — [Falstaff hides himself,

^ Formerly chiefly inhabited by druggists. ^ Hide,

o 4

200 MERRY WIVES Act IlL

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 t/ou had
rather, and i/ou had rather ; your husband's here

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 201

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 Fal staff.

FaL Let me see't ! let me see't ! O let me see't !
ril in, I'll in ; — follow your friend's counsel ; —
I'll in.

Mrs, Page, What! sir John FalstafF! Are these
your letters, knight ?

Fal, I love thee, and none but thee ; help me
away : let me creep in here ; I'll never —

[He goes into the basket ; they cover him
with foul linen,

Mrs, Page, Help to cover your master, boy :
Call your men, mistress Ford : — You dissembling
knight.

Mrs, Ford, What, John, Robert, John ! [Ea:it
Robin ; Re-enter Servants.] Go, take up these
clothes here, quickly ; Where's the cowl-staff^ ?
look, how you drumble^ ; carry them to the laun-
dress in Datchet mead ; 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 ?

' Bleaching time.

^ A staff for carrying a large tub or basket. ^ Drone.

202 MERRY WIVES Act 111.

Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.

Mrs, Ford, Why, what have you to do whither
they bear it ? You were best meddle with buck-
washing.

Fordy 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. [_Ea:eunt Servants with the basket,'] Gentle-
men, I have dreamed to-night : I'll tell you my
dream. 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.^

Page, Good master Ford, be contented : you
wrong yourself too much.

Ford, True, master Page. — Up, gentlemen ; you
shall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. \_E^it,.

Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and
jealousies.

Caius, By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France : it is
not jealous in France.

Page, Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue
of his search. \_Ea:eunt Evans, Page, a7id 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, W^hat 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 the same strain were in the same distress.

Mrs, Ford, I think, my husband hath some spe-
cial suspicion of FalstafF's being here ; for I never
saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.
^ Unbag the fox.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 203

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,
mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing
into the water ; and give him another hope, to
betray 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.

Ford. I cannot find him : may be the knave
bragged of that he could not compass.

Mrs. Page. Heard you that ?

Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace : — You use me well,
master Ford, do you ?

Ford. Ay, I do so.

Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your
thoughts !

Ford. Amen.

Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong,
master Ford.

Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it.

Eva. If there be any pody in the house, and in
the chambers, and in the coliers, and in the presses,
heaven forgive my sins !

Caius. ^y 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 1^\q
thousand, and ^vq hundred too.

204 MERRY WIVES Act 111.

Caius, By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman.

Ford, Weil ; — 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.

Caitis, Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart.

Eva, A knave ; to have his gibes and his mock-
eries. \_Ea:eunt.

SCENE IV.

A Room in Page'5 House,

Enter Fenton, and Mistress Anne Page.

Fent, 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 expence,
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.

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 205

Anne, May be, he tells you true.

Fent, 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 sealed bags ;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.

Anne. Gentle master Fen ton.

Yet seek my father's love : still seek it, sir :
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why then. - — Hark you hither.

\Theij 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'f* : slid, 'tis
but venturing.

Shal. Be not dismay'd.

Slen. No, she shall not dismay me : I care not
for that, — but that I am afeard.

Quick. Hark ye ; master Slender would speak a
word with you.

Anne. I come to him. — 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.

Shal. She's coming ; to her, coz. O boy, thou
hadst a father.

4 A proverb — a shaft was a long arrow, and a bolt a thick
short one.

206 MERRY WIVES Act III.

Slen, 1 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.

ShaL 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.

Slen, 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 ! ^ 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. —

*Lot.

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 207

Why, how now ! what does master Fen ton here ?
You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house :
I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of.
Fent, Nay, master Page, be not impatient.
Mrs, Page, Good master Fen ton, come not to

my child.
Page, She is no match for you.
Fent. Sir, will you hear me ?
Page, No, good master F'enton.

Come, master Shallow ; come, son Slender ; in : —
Knowing my mind, you wrong me, master Fenton.
{Ea:eunt 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.
Anrie. 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 j
Her father will be angry.

\_Ea:eunt 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

SOS MERRY WIVES Act III.

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. [Ea^it,

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^ for master
Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to sir
John FalstafT from my two mistresses : What a
beast am I to slack'' it? [_Exit,

SCENE V.
A Room in the Gartet' 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. [E>rit Bard.] Have I lived to be carried in
a basket, like a barrow of butcher's offal ? 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 gifl. The rogues slighted me into the river
with as little 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
6 Specially, 7 Neglect.

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 209

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 1 had been swelled ! I should
have been a mountain of mummy.

Re-enter Bardolph, with the wine.

Bard, Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with
you.

Fal, Come, let me pour in some sack to the
Thames water ; for my inside's as cold, as if I had
swallowed snow-balls. Call her in.

Bard, 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. — \_Ea:it 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 5 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, I warrant you.

Fal, Well, I will visit her : Tell her so ; and bid

VOL. I. p

210 MERRY WIVES Act III.

her think, what a man is : let her consider his
frailty, and then judge of my merit.

Quick, I will tell her.

Fal, Do so. Between nine and ten, say 'st thou ?

Quick, Eight and nine, sir.

Fal, Well, be gone : I will not miss her.

Quick, Peace be with you, sir. [^Exit.

Fal, I marvel, I hear not of master Brook ; he
sent me word to stay within: I like his money
well. O, here he comes.

Enter Ford.

Ford, Bless you, sir !

Fal, Now, 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 t® you ; I was
at her house the hour she appointed me.

Ford, And how sped you, sir ?

Fal, Very ill-favouredly, 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,
kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the pro-
logue of our comedy ; and at his heels a rabble of
his companions, thither provoked and instigated by
his 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

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 211

it, comes in one mistress Page ; gives intelligence
of 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^ 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

^ Bilboa, where the best blades are made.

P 2

212 MERRY WIVES Act III.

cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-
shoe; think of that; — hissing hot, — think of that,
master Brook.

Ford, In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for
my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then
is desperate ; you'll undertake her no more.

FaL Master Brook, I will be thrown into Mix\2i,
as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her
thus. Her husband is this morning gone a bird-
ing ; I Iiave 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
you shall know how I speed ; and the conclusion
shall be crowned with your having her : Adieu.
You shall have her, master Brook ; master Brook,
you shall cuckold Ford. \_Ea:it,

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 ! this 'tis to have
linen and buck-baskets ! — Well, I will proclaim
myself what I am : I will now take the lecher ; he
is at my house : he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impos-
sible he should ; he cannot creep into a halfpenny
purse, nor into a pepper-box : but, lest the devil
that guides him should aid him, I will search im-
possible places. Though what I am I cannot
avoid, yet to be what I would not, shall not make
me tame: if I have horns to make one mad, let the
proverb go with me, I'll be horn mad. [Ea:it,

Act IV. Sc. I. OF WINDSOR. 213

ACT IV.

SCENE I.— ^ Room in Ford'5 Home,

Enter Fal staff 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.

M7S, Page, [ Within.'] What hoa, gossip Ford !
what hoa !

Mrs, Ford, Step into the chamber, sir John.

[jEjt?/ Fal staff.

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 no-
body here.

Mrs, Ford, Why ?

Mrs, Page, Why, woman, your husband is in
his own lunes ^ 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 I 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.
9 Mad fits.
p 3

214 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

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. What shall I do ? — I'll creep up into the
chimney.

Mi^s, Ford, There they always use to discharge
their birding pieces : creep into the kiln-hole.

Fal, Where is it ?

Mrs, Ford, He will seek there on my word.
Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but
he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such
places, and goes to them by his note : There is no
hiding you in the house.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 215

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 i 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
intelligence.

Mrs, Ford, We'll try that j 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.

p 4

216 MERRY WIVES Act IV

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 proofs by that which we will do.

Wives may be merry, and yet honest too. \_Ea:it,

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.

\_Ea:it.

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 unfbol 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
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, tjiis is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad
dog ! ''

ShaL Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; in-
deed.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 217

Enter Mrs, Ford.

Ford, iSo 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 ! — 1 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
a flea's death.

Page. Here's no man.

Shal, By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford 5
this wrongs you.

Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not
follow 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 ex-

218 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

tremity, 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
errands, 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.

Mrs, Page, Come, mother Pratt, come, give me
your hand.

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 conjure you,
I'll fortune-tell you. {_Exit Falstaff.

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.
^ Lover. ^ Scab.

Scene I. OF WINDSOR. 219

Ford, Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech
you, follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy : if I
cry out thus upon no traiP, never trust me when I
open again.

Page, Let's obey his humour a little further :
Come, gentlemen.

[_Ea:eunt 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, [
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,

3 Scent.

220 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

SCENE II.
A Boom in the Garter Inn,

Enter Host, and Bardolph.

Bard, 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, Vi^hat duke should that be, comes so se-
cretly ? I hear not of him in the court : Let me
speak with the gentlemen ; they speak English ?

Bard. Ay, sir; 1*11 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.

[_Ea:eunt,

SCENE III.
A Room in Ford's House.

Enter Page, Ford, Mrs, Page, Mrs, Ford, and
Sir Hugh Evans.

Eva, 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman
as ever I did look upon.

Fage, And did he send you both these letters at
an instant ?

Mrs. Page, Within a quarter of an hour.

Ford, Pardon me, wife : Henceforth do what
thou 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.

Scene III. OF WINDSOR. 22i

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.

Mr^s. Page, There i? an old tale goes, that Heme
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'* 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^
Received, and did deliver to our age,
This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth.

Page. Why, yet there want not many, that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak :
But what of this ?

^ Strikes. 5 Old age.

222 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

Mrs, Ford. Marry, this is our device ;
That FalstafF at that oak shall meet with us.
Disguised hke Heme, 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 ^ and fairies, green and white.
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden,
As Falstaff, 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.

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.

« Elf, hobgoblin.

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 223

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 Falstaff

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.

[Ea:eunt Page, Ford, and Evans.
Mrs, Page, Go, mistress Ford,
Send quickly to sir John, to know his mind.

\_Ea:it 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; briefi short,
quick, snap.

Sim, Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir John
Falstaff from master Slender.

224 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

Host, There's bis chamber, bis bouse, bis 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 "^ 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 : Ait 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 honour-
able: 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, was't not the wise woman of
Brentford ?

Fal, 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,
whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain,
had the chain, or no.

Fal, 1 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.

7 A cannibal.

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 225

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, Ajy 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.

Sim, 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. \_Ea^it Simple.

Host. Thou art clerkly^, thou art clerkly, sir
John. Was there a wise woman with thee ?

Fal, Ay, that there was, mine host ; one, that
hath taught me more wit than ever I learned be-
fore in my life : and I paid nothing for it neither,
but was paid for my learning.

Enter Bardolph.

Bard, Out, alas, sir ! cozenage ! mere cozenage !

Host, Where be my horses ? speak well of them,
varletto.

Bard, 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.

^ Scholar like.
VOL. I. Q

226 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

Host, They are gone but to meet the duke, vil-
lain : do not say, they be fled ; Germans are
honest men.

Enter Sir Hugh Evans.

Eva, Where is mine host ?

Host, What is the matter, sir ?

Eva, Have a care of your entertainments : there
is a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there is
three couzin germans, that has cozened all the
hosts of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook,
of horses and money. I tell you for good-will, look
you : you are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting-
stogs ; and 'tis not convenient you should be co-
zened : Fare you well. \_Ea:it,

Enter Doctor Caius.

Caius, Vere is mine Host de Jarterre ?

Host, Here, master doctor, in perplexity, and
doubtful dilemma.

Caius, I cannot tell vat is dat : but it is tell-a me,
dat you make grand preparation for a duke de Jar-
many : by my trot, dere is no duke, dat the court
is know to come ; I tell you for good vill : Adieu.

lEa;it,
■ Host, Hue and cry, villain, go : — assist me,
knight ; I am undone : — fly, run, hue and cry,
villain ! I am undone !

\_Ea:eunt 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 transformed, 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

Scene IV. OF WINDSOR. 227

with their fine wits, till I were as crest-fallen as a
dried pear. I never prospered since I foreswore
myself at Primero, ^ Well, if my wind were but
long enough to say my prayers, I would repent. —

Ente7- 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 F'ord, good
heart, is beaten black and blue, that you cannot
see a white spot about her.

Fal, What telPst 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. [^Ea:eunt,

^ A game at cards.

Q 2

228 MERRY WIVES Act IV.

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.

Fe7it, 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.

Fent. From time to time I have acquainted you
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page ;
Who, mutually, hath answer'd 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 FalstafT
Hath a great scene : the image of the jest

[^Showing the letter.
ril show you here at large. Hark, good mine host :
To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one,
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

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 229

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 obedient, likewise hath
Made promise to the doctor ; — Now, thus it rests j
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 ribbands 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 ?

Fent. Both, my good host, to go along with me :
And here it rests, — 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.

Fent, So shall I evermore be bound to thee ;
Besides, I'll make a present recompense. [^Exeunt,

Q S

230 MERRY WIVES Act V.

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. \_EMt 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 Heme's oak, and you
shall see wonders.

Ford: Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you
told me you had appointed ?

Fal, I went to her, master Brook, as you see,
like a poor old man : but I came from her, master
Brook, hke 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,

^ Keep to the time.

Scene II. OF WINDSOR. 231

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.

Slen, Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with her, and
we have a nay-word ^ 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

'^ Watch -word.
Q 4

232 MERRY WIVES Act V.

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. \_Ea^it Caius.]
My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse
of FalstaflJ 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.

ikfr^. Ford, Where is Nan now, and her troop
of fairies? and the Welsh devil, Hugh?

Mrs, Fage, They are all couched in a pit hard
by Heme'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.

Mi^s, Page, Those who betray him do no treach-
ery.

Mrs, Ford, The hour draws on j To the oak, to
the oak I \_Ea:eunt,

SCENE IV.

Windsor Park.

Enter Sir HvGU YiVANS, and Fairies.

Eva, Trib, trib, fairies ; come ; and remember
your parts : be pold, I pray you ; follow me into
the pit : and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I
pid you y Come, come ; trib, trib. \^Ea;eimt,

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 2SS

SCENE V.

Another Part of the Park.

Enter Falstaff disguised^ with a bucJc^s head on.

Fal, The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the
minute draws on: Now, love assist me: — Remem-
ber, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa 5 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 kiss-
ing-comfits, and snow eringoes ; I will shelter me
here. \Emhracing 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 I like
Heme 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 ?

Mrs, Ford, 1 x rnM, ^

Mrs, Page, j ^"^^^^ ^^^>'- ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^

FaL I think, the devil wiJl not have me j he would
never else cross me thus.

234 MERRY WIVES Act V.

Enter Sir Hugh Evans, like a satyr ; Mrs.
Quickly and Pistol ; Anne Page, as the
Fairy Queen, attended by her brother and others,
dressed like fairies, with waxen takers 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.

Pist, Elves, list your names ; silence, you airy

toys.
Cricket, to Windsor chimnies shalt thou leap :
Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths un-

swept,
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 uimn his face.

Eva. Where's Pede ? — Go you, and where you

find a maid.
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said.
Raise up the organs of her fantasy.
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy :
But those as sleep, and think not on their sins.
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and

shins.
Quick. About, about 5
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.

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 235

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, Iqok 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 emeral tufls, flowers purple, blue, and white ;
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery.
Buckled below fair knight-hood'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 Heme 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'er-looked 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. '

Pist, A trial, come.

Eva,. Come, will this wood take fire ?

{They hum him "with their tampers,

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.

236 MERRY WIVES Act V.

SONG.

Fye on sinful fantasy I
Fye on lust and luxury !
Lust is hut a bloody f re.
Kindled with unchaste desire.
Fed in heart ; whose fames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
Pinch him, fairies, mutually ;
Finch him for his villainy ;
Finch him, and burn him, and turn him about.
Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine be out.

\_During this song, the fairies pinch Falstaff. Doctor
Caius comes one way, 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 is made
within. All the fairies run away, FalstafF^M//^
off his bucWs head, and rises, '\

Enter Page, Ford, Mrs, Page, and Mrs, Ford.
They lay hold on him,

Fage, Nay, do not fly : I think we have watch'd
you now ;
Will none but Heme the hunter serve your turn ?

Mrs, Fage, I pray you, come ; hold up the jest
no higher : —
Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives ?
See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes^
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

^ Horns which FalstafF had.

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 237

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 ; 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 FalstafT, 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 ? ^ '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 1 lived to stand at
the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ?
'^ A fool's cap of Welsh materials.

238 MERRY WIVES Act V.

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 plummit 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.

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' wife.

[^ Aside.

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 239

Enter Slender.

Slen, Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page !

Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you
despatched ?

Slen, Despatched — Pll 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 muniy 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 gargon, a boy ; unpa'mm.

240 MERRY WIVES Act V.

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. \_E3cit Caius.

Ford, This is strange : Who hath got the right
Anne?

Page, My heart misgives me : Here comes master
Fen ton.

Enter Fenton and Anne Page.

How now, master Fenton ?

Anne, Pardon, good father ! good my mother,
pardon !

Page, Now, mistress ? how chance you went not
with master Slender ?

Mrs, P^^^. 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 ;
Since therein she doth evitate 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.

Fal. 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.

Scene V. OF WINDSOR. 241

Fal, When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are
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,

VOL. I.

TWELFTH - NIGHT

OB,

WHAT YOU WILL.

R 2

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

^Orsino, Duke of lllyria,
Sebastian, a young gentleman, brother to Viola,
Antonio, a sea-captain, friend to Sebastian.
A Sea-Captain,j^?^/zc? to Viola.

r^ ' > Gentlemen attending on the Duke.

Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia.
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek.
Malvolio, steward to Olivia.

Clown' I '^^^'^^^^^ ^^ Olivia,

Olivia, a rich Countess.
Viola, in love with the Duke.
Maria, Olivia's woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and
other Attendants.

SCENE, a city in lllyria ; and the sea-coast near it.

TWELFTH - NIGHT

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT L

SCENE I. — An Apartment in the Duke'5 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.

R 3

246 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord ?

Duke. What, Curio ?

Cur. ' The hart.

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have :
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.

Val. 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.

[Ea:eunt.

jicENE II. WHAT YOU WILL. 247

SCENE II.

The Sea Coast,

Enter Viola, Captain, and Sailors.

Vio, What country, friends, is this ?

Cap, Illyria, lady.

Vio, And what should I do in Illyria ?
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 1 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 ?

R 4

248 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

Cap. Orsino.

Vio. Orsino ! I have heard my father name him !
He was a batchelor 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 5 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 I had made mine own occasion mellow,
What my estate is.

Cap, That were hard to compass ;

Because she will admit no kind of suit, .
No, not the duke's.

Vio, There is a fair behaviour in thee, captain ;
And though that nature with a beauteous wall
Dbth oft close in pollution, yet of thee
• I will believe, thou hast a mind that suits
With this thy fair and outward character.
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously,
Conceal me what I am ; and be my aid
For such disguise as, haply, shall become
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke ;
Thou shalt 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.

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 249

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. \\Ea:eunf,

SCENE III.

A Room in Olivia's 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.

250 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

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 w^ould 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 better
acquaintance.

Mar, My name is Mary, sir.

^ Keystril, a bastard hawk.

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 251

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 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, It's 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.

\^Ea:it 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 ?

252 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act L

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 And, 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.

Sir 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. WHAT YOU WILL. 253

SCENE IV.
A Room in the Duke's Palace.

Enter Valentine, and Viola in man's attire,

VaL If the duke continue these favours towards
you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced ;
he hath known you but three days, and aheady 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.

E7iter 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 5
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 abandoned to her sorrow
As it is spoke, she never will admit me.

Dicke, 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 :

254> , TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

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, \_Astde,'\ a barful ^ strife !
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [^Ea^eunt.

-SCENE V.
A Room in Olivia's Home,

Enter Maria, and Clown.

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been,
or I will not open my lips, so wide as a bristle may
enter, in way of thy excuse : my lady will 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^ answer: I can tell thee
where that saying was born, of, I fear no colours.
2 Full of impediments. ^ Short and spare.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 255

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 ?

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
best. [^EmL

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 !

Oli, Take the fool away.

Clo, Do you not hear, fellows ? Take away the
lady.

OIL Go to, you're a dry fool: I'll no more of
you : besides, you grow dishonest.

Clo, Two faults, madonna^ that drink and good
counsel will amend : for give the dry fool drink, then

'^ Italian, mistress, dame.

256 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

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.

OU, Sir, I bade them take away you.
Clo, Misprision in the highest degree ! — Lady,
Cucullus nonfacit monachum ; that's as much as to
say, I wear not motley in my brain.

on. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth
he not mend ?

MaL 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 encreasing 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.
on. 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. ^

OIL 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
things for bird-bolts ^ 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
discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove.

Clo, Now Mercury endue thee with leasing ^
for thou speakest well of fools.

•■' Fools' baubles. ^ Short arrows. 7 Lying.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 257

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?

Mar, I know not, madam ; 'tis a fair young man,
and well attended.

OIL Who of my people hold him in delay?

Mar, Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman.

Oil, Fetch him off, 1 pray you; he speaks nothing
but madman : Fye on him ! [E:vit Maria.] Go
you, Malvolio ; if it be a suit from the count, I am
sick, or not at home ; what you will, to dismiss it.
[_Eocit 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,^

Enter Sir Toby Belch.

Oli, By mine honour, half drunk. — What 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. \_Ea:it,

Oli, What's a drunken man like, fool ?

Clo, Like a drown' d man, a fool, and a madman :

^ The cover of the brain.
VOL. I. S

258 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

one draught above heat makes him a fool ; the se^
cond mads him : and a third drowns him.

OIL 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. \_Ea:it Clown.

Re-enter Malvolio.

MaL 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.

OIL Tell him, he shall not speak with me.

MaL He has been told so; and he says, he'll
stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the
supporter of a bench, but he'll speak with you.

OIL What kind of man is he ?

MaL Why, of man kind.

Oli, What manner of man ?

MaL Of very ill manner ; he'll speak with you,
will you, or no.

OIL Of what personage, and years, is he ?

MaL 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 shrewishly;
one would think, his mother's milk were scarce out
of him.

OIL Let him approach: Call in my gentlewoman.

MaL Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [^Ejcit.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 259

Re-enter Maria.

OU, Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er my
face ;
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.

Enter Viola.

Vio, The honourable lady of the house, which is
she ?

on. 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 ^ 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.

on. 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 ?

on. If I do not usurp my self i I am.

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp
yourself; for what is yours to bestow, is not yours
to reserve. But this is from my commission : I will
on with my speech in your praise, and then show
you the heart of my message.

^ AccouHtable.

s S

260 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

OIL Come to what is important in't : I forgive
you the praise.

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis
poetical.

OIL It is the more like to be feigned ; I pray
you, keep it in. I heard, you were saucy at my
gates ; 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 mollification for your giant ^,
sweet lady.

on. 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.

Oli, Give us the place alone : we will hear this
divinity. \_Ea;it Maria.] Now, sir, what is your
text ?

Vio, Most sweet lady,

^ It appears from several parts of this play that the original
actress of Maria was very short.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 261

OIL A comfortable doctrine, and much may be
said of it. Where Hes your text ?

Vio. In Orsino's bosom.

OH, In his bosom ? In what chapter of his bosom ?

Vio, To answer by the method, in the first of
his heart.

OIL 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
negociate 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.

OH, '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 aUve,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

OH, 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 !

OH, How does he love me ?

2 Presents.
S S

262 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act I.

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 ^ 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.

OIL Why, what would you ?

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate.
And call upon my soul within the house ;
Write loyal cantons ^ of contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills.
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.

OH. You might do much : What is your parent-
age ?

Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well :
I am a gentleman.

OH. Get you to your lord ;

I cannot love him : let him send no more 5
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.

3 Well spoken of by the world. ^ Cantos, verses.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 263

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. [_Ea:it.

Oil. What is your parentage ?
Above my for tunes y 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. [^EMt.

OIL 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 owe ^ ;
What is decreed, must be ; and be this so ! [Ejcit.

^ Own, possess.

s 4

264 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OK, Act II.

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 I may bear my evils alone :
It were a bad recompense for your love, to lay
any of them on you,

A7it, 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 my-
self. 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, my-
selfi 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

Scene II. WHAT YOU WILL. 265

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. [-E^^Y.

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee:
I have many enemies in Orsino's court.
Else 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 IL

A Street,

Enter Viola ; Malvolio following.

Mai, Were not you even now with the countess
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 your-
self She adds moreover, that you should put your
lord into a desperate assurance she will none of
him : And one thing 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

TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if
not, be it his that finds it. \^Ea:it.

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® enemy does much.
H6w 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?^ My master loves her dearly j
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, thou must untangle this, not I ;
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [^Ea^it.

SCENE III.

A Room in 01ivia*5 House.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Ague-
cheek.
Sir To, Approach, sir Andrew : not to be a-bed
after midnight, is to be up betimes ; and diluculo
surgere, thou know'st, ■

^ Dexterous, ready. ^ Suit.

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 267

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 j 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 ? ^

Sir To, Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.

Sir And, By my troth, the fool has an excellent
breast.^ 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 ?

^ Loggerheads be. 9 Voice.

268 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song.

Sir And, Ay, ay ; I care not for good life.

SONG.

Clo. O mistress mine, where are you roaming ?
O, 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 man^s son doth know.

Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith !
Sir To. Good, good.

Clo. What is love? '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 con-
tagion. But shall we make the welkin dance in-
deed ? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch, that
will draw three souls out of one weaver ? 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.

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight ! I shall
be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight.

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 269

Sir And. 'Tis not the first time I have con-
strain'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 him turn you out of doors, never
trust me.

Sir To, My lady's a Cataian ^, 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? Til ly- valley '\ lady! There dwelt a
man in Babylon, lady, lady ! [Singing,

Clo, Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fool-
ing.

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. O the twelfth day of December, — [Singing.

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' ^ catches without any
mitigation or remorse of voice ? Is there no re-
spect of place, persons, nor time, in you ?

1 Romancer. '^ Name of an old song.

3 Equivalent toJUly-fally, shilly-shally,
^ Cobblers.

270 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our catches.
Sneck up ! ^

MaL 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 alHed 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. Farewelli dear heart, since I must needsi
he gone.

Mar, Nay, good sir Toby.

Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost done,

Mai, Is't even so?

Sir To. But I mill never die,

Clo, Sir Toby, there you lie.

MaL 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. O no, no, no, no, you dare not.

Sir To, Out o'time? sir, ye lie. — Art any more
than a steward ? Dost thou think, because thou
art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ?

Clo. Yes, by saint Anne; and ginger shall be
hot i'the mouth too.

Sir 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. [Ea:it.

Mar, Go shake your ears.

Sir And. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink
when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to the

^ Hang yourself*

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 271

field ; and then to break promise with him, and
make a fool of him.

Sir To, Do'tj knight ; I'll write thee a challenge :
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 Mal-
volio, let me alone with him : if I do not gull him
into a nay-word ^ and make him a common recre-
ation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight
in my bed : I know, I can do it.

Sir To. Possess us s possess us ; tell us some-
thing of him.

Mar, Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Pu-
ritan.

Sir And, O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like
a 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 ^ : 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 ex-
pressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he

^' Bye-word. 7 Inform us.

^ The row of grass left by a mower.

272 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

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 co-
lour.

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. ^

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
send 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. ^

Sir And, If I do not, never trust me, take it how
you will.

Sir To, Come, come ; I'll go burn some sack,
'tis too late to go to bed now : come, knight ; come,
knight. lE^eunt.

9 Amazon. ^ Fool.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 273

SCENE IV.
A Room in the Duke'5 Palace.

Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.

Duke, Give me some musick : — Now, good
morrow, friends : —
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
Tiiat old and antique song we heard last night ;
Methought, it did relieve my passion much ;
More tlian 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.

[_Ea:it 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 skittish in all motions else.
Save, in that constant image of the creature
That is belov'd. — How dost thou hke 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 ;
Hath it not, boy ?

Vio, A little, by your favour.

Duke, What kind of woman is't ?

VOL. J. T

274 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

Vio. 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.

Clo. Are you ready, sir ?

Duke. Ay ; pr'ythee, sing. [^Mustek,

SONG.

Clo. Come awai/, come awai/, death.
And in sad cypress let me he laid ;

2 Simple truth.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 275

Fly away^Jiy awaij, breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O, prepare it ; ^

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet.
On my black coffin let there be strown ;

Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown :
A thousand thousand sighs to sa've.

Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover ne^erfind 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. [Ea^it Clown.

Duke. Let all the rest give place.

{Ea:eunt 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 ;

T ^

276 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act IL

But 'tis that miracle, and queen of gems,
That nature pranks ^ 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.
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 ?

^ Decks.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 277

Vio, I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too; — and yet 1 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."*

[Ea:euni,

SCENE V.

Olivia's Gardm.

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,

^ Denial.
T 3

278 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

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 ; [^Throws
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 !

Fah, O, peace ! Contemplation makes a rare
turkey-cock of him ; how he jets ^ 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 1

MaL 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, —

Sir To, O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye !

MaL CalUng my officers about me, in my branched
velvet gown ; having come from a day-bed, where I
left Olivia sleeping.

5 Struts.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 279

Sir To. Fire and brimstone !
Fab, O, peace, peace !

MaL And then to have the humour of state : and
after a demure travel of regard, — telHng 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.

MaL 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 with some rich
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, Cousin Toby, my fortunes Juwing
cast me on your nieces give me this prerogative of
speech : —

Sir To, What, what ?

Mai. You must amendyour drunkenness.

Sir To, Out, scab !

Fab, Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of
our plot.

Mai. BesideSy you waste the treasure of your time
with 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 !

T 4"

280 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act II.

MaL By my life, this is my lady's hand : these
be her very P's her t/'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 T's : Why
that ?

Mai. \_Reads.~\ To the uJilmown beloved, this,
and my good wishes : her very phrases! — By your
leave, wax. — Soft ! — and the impressure 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 P
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. I may command, where I adore :
But silence, like a Lucrece knife.
With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore ;
M, O, A, I, doth szvay my life.
Fab. A fustian riddle !
Sir To. Excellent wench, say I.
Mai. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. — Nay, but
first, let me see, — let me see, — let me see.

Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed him!
Sir To. And with what wing the stannyeF checks
at it ! «

Mai. / may command where I adore. Why, she
may command me ; I serve her, she is my lady.
Why, this evident to any formal capacity. There
is no obstruction in this; — And the end, — What
should that alphabetical position portend? If I

^ Badger. ^ Hawk. ^ Flys at it.

Scene V. WHAT YOU WILL. 281

could make that resemble something in me, —
Softly! — M, O, A,I,—

Sir To, O, ay ! make up that : — he is now at a
cold scent.

Fab. Sowter^ will cry upon't, for all this, though
it be as rank as a fox.

Mai. M, — Malvolio 5 — 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 O does.

Fab, And O shall end, I hope.

Sir To, Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him
cry, O,

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, O, 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 fall into
thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee ;
but be not afraid of greatness : Some are born great,
some achieve greatness, and some have greatness
thrust upon them. Thy fates open their hands ; let
thy blood and spirit embrace them. And, to inure
tJiyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble
slough^, 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. Remeinber who commended thy yellow stock-
ings ; and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered : I
^ Name of a hound. 1 Skin of a snake.

282 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act II.

say^ rememher. 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, She that would alter
services with thee. 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^, 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 hui
know who I am. 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,
I pr*ythee, Jove, I thank thee. — I will smile ; I
will do every thing that thou wilt have me. \Exit,

Fab, I 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.
2 Open country. ^ Utmost exactness.

Act III. Sc. I. WHAT YOU WILL. 283

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 ex-
cellent devil of wit !

Sir And. I'll make one too. [_Ea:eunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. — Olivia'5 Garden,

Enter Viola, and Clown with a tabor,

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick : Dost
thou live by thy tabor ?

Clo, No, sir, I live by the church.
Vio. Art thou a churchman ?

^ A boy's diversion, three and trip.

284 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act III.

Clo, No such matter, sir ; I do live by the church:
for I do Hve at my house, and my house doth stand
by the church.

Vio, So thou may'st say, the king hes^ 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 ^ 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, aspilchards 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
wdth 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. [Ea:it.

Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit.
« Dwells. " 6 Kid.

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 285

He must observe their mood on whom he jests.

The quality of persons, and the time ;

And, like the haggard \ 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 Andrew Ague-
cheek,

Sir To, Save you, gentleman.

Vio, And you, sir.

Sir And. Dieu vous garde, monsieur.

Vio. Et vous aussi ; voire serviteur.

Sir A7id, I hope, sir, you are ; and I am yours.

Sir To, Will you encounter the house ? my
niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be
to her.

Vio, I am bound to your niece, sir ; I mean, she
is the list ^ of my voyage.

Sir 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, 1 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^ and vouchsafed ear.

7 A hawk not well trained. ^ Bound, limit,

9 Ready.

286 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act 111.

Sir And. Odours^ pregnant, and vouchsafed : —
r]l get 'em all three ready.

OH, Let the garden door be shut, and leave me
to my hearing.

[^Ea:eunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Maria.
Give me your hand, sir.

Vio, My duty, madam, and most humble service.

Oli, What is your name ?

Vio, Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess.

Oli, 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.

Oli, For him, I think not on him : for his thoughts,
'Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with
me!

Vio, Madam, I come to whet your gentle
thoughts
On his behalf:

Oli, O, by your leave, I pray you j

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.

Vio, Dear lady,

Oli, Give me leave, I beseech you : I did send.
After the last enchantment you did here,
A ring in chase of you : so did I 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

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 287

That tyrannous heart can think ? To one of your

receiving ^
Enough is shown ; a Cyprus, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you speak.

Vio* I pity you.

Oli, That's a degree to love.

Vio. No, not a grise ^ ; for 'tis a vulgar proofi
That very oft we pity enemies.

OIL 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.

OH, If I think so, I think the same of you.

Vio, Then think you right; I am not what I
am.

OH, 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.

OH, O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his Hp !
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,

' Ready apprehension. 2 Step.

288 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,

I love thee so, tliat, 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.

Vio, 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 mistress be of it, save I alone.
And so adieu, good madam ; never more
Will I my master's tears to you deplore.

OH, Yet come again : for thou, perhaps, may'st
move
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love.

[^Ea:eunf.

SCENE II.

A Room in Olivia's Hmise.

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-
drew.

Sir And, Marry, I saw your niece do more fa-
vours to the count's serving man, than ever she
bestowed upon 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.

Fah, This was a great argument of love in her
toward you.

Sir And, 'Slight ! will you make an ass o' me ?

Scene II. WHAT YOU WILL.. 289^

Fab. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths
of judgment and reason.

Sir To, And they have been grand jury-men,
since 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
her ; 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^ 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 thou'st 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

^ Separatists in Queen Elizabeth's reign. "^ Crabbed.

VOL. I. U

290 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act III.

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 ^ : Go.

[^Eo'it Sir Andrew.

Fab, This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby.

Sir To, I 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
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 j I can hardly

5 In Hertfordshire, which held forty persons. ^ Chamber.

Scene III. WHAT YOU WILL. 291

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.

[Ea^eunt.

SCENE in.

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.

u 2

292 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III-

Ant. 'Would you'd pardon me ;

I do not without danger walk these streets :
Once, m 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 an-
swer'd.

Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his people.

Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody nature ;
Albeit the quahty 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 1 be lapsed ^ 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.

[Ea:eunt.
7 Caught.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 293

SCENE IV.

Olivia'5 Garden.

Enter Olivia and Maria.

OIL 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-
rowed.

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.

Oil. 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.

on. 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 ,

Oil, Smil'st thou ?
I sent for thee upon a sad ^ 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,

8 Grave,
u 3

294. TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

Oli, Why, how dost thou, man ? what is the
matter with thee ?

MaL 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.

OIL Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio ?

MaL To bed? ay, sweet-heart; and Til come
to thee.

OIL God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so,
and kiss thy hand so ofi ?

Mar, How do you, Malvolio ?

MaL At your request ? Yes ; Nightingales
answer daws.

Mar, Why appear you with this ridiculous bold-
ness before my lady ?

Mai. Be not afraid of greatness : — 'Twas well
writ.

OIL What meanest thou by that, Malvolio ?

Mai. Some are born greats —

OIL Ha?

Mai. Some achieve greatness, —

OIL What say'st thou ?

Mai. And some have greatness thrust upon them,

Oli, Heaven restore thee !

MaL Remember, who commended thy yellow stock-
ings ;—

Oli, Thy yellow stockings ?

Mai. And wished to see thee cross-gartered.

Oli, Cross-gartered?

MaL Go to : thou art made, if thou desirest to be
so ; —

OIL Am I made ?

MaL If not, let me see thee a servant still,

Oli, Why, this is very midsummer madness.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 295

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.

OU, 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.

[Ea^eunt Olivia and Maria.

Mai. Oh, ho 1 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 sloug% says she : be opposite with a kinsman^
surly with 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 ! ^
not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.
Why, every thing adheres together ; that no dram
of a scruple, no scrucple 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.

9 Companion.

U 4

296 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

Re-enter Maria, "with Sir Toby Belch, and
Fabian.

Sir To, Which way is he, in the name of sanc-
tity ? I'll speak to him.

Fab. Here he is, here he is : — How is't with you,
sir ? how is't with you, man ?

MaL Go off; I discard you, let me enjoy my
private ; go off.

Mar, Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within
him ! did not I tell you' ? — Sir Toby, my lady prays
you to have a care of him.

MaL Ah, ha ! 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.

MaL 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.

MaL How now mistress ?

Mar. O lord !

Sir To. Pr'ythee, hold thy peace : this is not the
way : Do you not see, you move him ? let me alone
with him.

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 ?

MaL Sir ?

Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man !
'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit ^ with Satan ;
Hang him, foul collier !

^ Jolly cock, beau and coq. ^ a play among boys.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 297

MaL 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 war-
rant, 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 shew thee no reason
for't.

Fab, A good note : that keeps you from the blow
of the law.

Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my

298 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

sight she uses thee kindly : but thou liest in thy
throaty that is not the matter I challenge thee for.

Fab, Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.

Sir To. / mil way -lay thee going home ; where if
it be thy chance to kill me,

FaL Good.

Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.

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 ! 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-cheek.

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
ever thou seest him, draw ; and, as thou drawest,
swear horrible ; for it comes to pass oft, that a
terrible 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. \_Ea:it,

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,)

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 299

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.

\_Ea^eunt Sir Toby, Fabian, and Maria.

Oli. 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

Vio. With the same 'haviour that your passion
bears,
Go on my master's griefs.

Oli, Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my pic-
ture ;
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you :
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow.
What shall you ask of me, that 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.

\_Ea:it.

Re-enter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian.

Sir To, Gentleman, heaven save thee.
Vio, And you, sir.

300 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act III.

Sir To, That defence thou hast, betake thee to't:
of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him,
I know not ; but thy intercepter, full of despight,
bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard
end : dismount thy tuck^ be yare"^ in thy 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 unbacked
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 mo-
ment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none
but by pangs of death and sepulchre : hob, nob, is
his word ; give't or take't.

Vio. I will return again into the house, and de-
sire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter.
I have heard of some kind of men, that put quar-
rels purposely on others, to taste their valour:
belike, this is a man of that quirk.

Sir To. Sir, no 5 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 med-
dle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear
iron about you.

3 Rapier. ^ Ready.

Scene IV. WHAT YGU WILL. 301

Vio, This is as uncivil, as strange. I beseech
you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the
kniglit what my offence to him is : it is something
of my negUgence, nothing of my purpose.

Sir To, I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you
by this gentleman till my return. \^E<z'it Sir Toby.

Fio. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter ?

Fab, 1 know the knight is incensed against you,
even to a mortal arbitrement ; but nothing of the
circumstance more.

Fio. 1 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 ? 1 will make your peace
with him, if I can.

Fio, 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. [^Ea^eunt,

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 ^
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
^ Stoccato, an Italian term in fencing.

302 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

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 perdi-
tion of souls. Marry, I'll ride your horse as well
as I ride you. ^Aside,

Re-enter Fabian and Viola.

I have his horse [ Jb Fab.] to take up the quarrel ;
I have persuaded him, 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
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,

Fah, 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 ^ 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.

\^Dra'ws,

^ Laws of duel.

Scene IV. WHAT YOU WILL. 303

Ant. Put up your sword ; — if this young gen-
tleman
Have done offence, I take the fault on me ;
If you offend him, I for him defy you. \_Dramng.

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.

Fah, 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.

i 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
Makes me to ask you for my purse : It grieves me
Much more, for what I cannot do for you,
Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd ;
But be of comfort.

2 Off, Come, sir, away.

Ant, I must entreat of you some of that money.

Vio, What money, sir ?

304 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act III.

For the fair kindness you have show'd me here,
And, part, being prompted by your present trouble.
Out of my lean and low ability
I'll lend you something : my having is not much j
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, w^hose 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 ;

Rehev'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 deformed, 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 j away with him.
Come, come, sir.

Ant, Lead me on.

lE^eunt Officers, with Antonio.

Act IV. Sc. I. WHAT YOU WILL. 305

Via. Methinks,his words do from such passions fly,
That he beUeves 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, Fa-
bian ; 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 !

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 co wardship, ask Fabian.

Fab, A coward, a most devout coward, religious
in it.

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, — \_EMt,

Fab, Come, let's see the event.

Sir To, I dare lay any money, 'twill be nothing
yet. \_Ea:eunt,

ACT IV.

SCENE L— The Street before Olivia's Heme,

Enter Sebastian and Clown.

Clo, Will you make me believe, that I am not
sent for you ?

VOL. I. X

306 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act IV.

Seh, Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow ;
Let me be clear of thee.

Clo. Well held out, i'faith ! No, I do not know
you ; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid
you come speak with her ; nor your name is not
master Cesario ; nor this is not my nose neither. —
Nothing, that is so, is so.

Seb. I pr'ythee, vent thy folly somewhere else ;
Thou know'st not me.

Clo, Vent my folly ! He has heard that word of
some great man, and now applies it to a fool. Vent
my folly! 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,
I shall give worse payment.

Clo, By my troth, thou hast an open hand: —
These wise men, that give fools money, get them-
selves a good report afler 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 ? [Beating 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.

[Ea^it 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

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 307

against him, if there be any law in Illyria : though
1 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.

Oli. 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 :

Kudesby^, be gone! — I pr'ythee, gentle friend,

[Ea:eunt Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway
In this uncivil and unjust extent^
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 !

^ Rude fellow. * Violence,

X 2

308 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act lY.

on. Nay, come, I pr'ythee: 'Would thou'dst be

rul'd by me !
SeL Madam, I will.
Oli, O, say so, and so be !

SCENE 11.

A Room in Olivia'5 House,

Enter Maria and Clown.

Mar, Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, and this
beard; make him believe, thou art sir Topas, the
curate; do it quickly: I'll call sir Toby the whilst.

[^Exit Maria.

Clo, Well, ril 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^
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 ?

^ Confederates.

Scene IL WHAT YOU WILL. 309

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 5 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. ^

Clo, What is the opinion of Pythagoras, concern-
ing 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 ap-
prove his opinion.

1 Regular conversation.
X 3

310 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act IV.

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.

MaL Sir Topas, sir Topas, —

Sir To, My most exquisite sir Topas !

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters. ^

Mar, Thou might'st have done this without thy
beard, and gown ; he sees thee not.

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, and bring me
word how thou findest him : I would, we were well
rid of this knavery. If he may be 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. [Ea:eunt Sir Toby and Maria.

Glo. Heij Robin, jolly Robin,

Tell me how thy lady does, [_Singing,

Mai, Fool.—

Clo. My 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.
^ Any other Gem as well as a Topaz.

Scene II. WHAT YOU WILL. 311

MaL 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. — MalvoUo, MalvoUo, thy wits the heavens
restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy
vain bibble babble.

Mai Sir Topas

C/o. 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.

MaL Fool, fool, fool, I say, —

Clo, Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir ? I
am shent ^ for speaking to you.

MaL Good fool, help me to some light, and some
paper ; I tell thee, I am as well in my wits, as any
man in Illyria.

Clo, Well-a-day, — that you were, sir !

MaL 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?

MaL Beheve 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.

MaL Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree :
I pr'ythee, be gone.

Clo. / am gone, sir.

And anon, sir,
Fll he "With you again,
In a trice;
Like to the old vice ^
Your need to sustain.

3 Scolded, reprimanded. 4 ^ bufFoon character in the

old plays, and father of the modern harlequin.

X 4

312 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act IV.

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. \^Ea:it,

SCENE III.

01ivia*5 Ga7'den»

Enter Sebastian.

Seb, This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ;
This pearl she gave me, I do feePt and see't :
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus.
Yet 'tis not madness, Where's Antonio then ?
I could not find him at the Elephant :
Yet there he was ; and there I found this credit \
That he did range the town to seek me out.
His counsel now might do me golden service :
For though my soul disputes well with my sense.
That this may be some error, but no madness,
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse.
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes.
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
To any other trust, but that I am mad.
Or else the lady's mad ; yet, if 'twere so.
She could not sway her house, command her fol-
lowers.
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.

^ Account.

ActV. ScI. what you WILL. 313

Enter Olivia and a Priest.

on* 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 roofi
Plight me the full assurance of your faith ;
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
May live at peace : He shall conceal it,
Whiles ^ you are willing it shall come to note ;
What time we will our celebration keep
According to my birth. — What do you say ?

Seh, I'll follow this good man, and go with you ;
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true.

OIL Then lead the way, good father ; And

heaven to shine.
That they may fairly note this act of mine !

\_Ea:eunt,

ACT V.

SCENE I,— The Street before OlWm'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.

Clo, Do not desire to see this letter.
« Until.

3H TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act V.

Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recompense,
desire my dog again.

JEnter Duke, Viola, and Attendants.

Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia, friends ?

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 1 am abused : so that,
conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives
make your two affirmatives, why, then the worse for
my friends, and the better for my foes.

Duke. Why, this is excellent.

Clo. By my troth, sir, no ; though it please you
to be one of my friends.

Duke. 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 triflex^
sir, is a good tripping measure ; or the bells of

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 315

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 scathfiil 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 sidej
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,

7 Freight.

316 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act V.

Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear,
Hast made thine enemies ?

Ant, Orsino, noble sir.

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 be-
fore,
(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.

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 317

OIL 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,

OIL What do you say, Cesario ? Good my

lord,

Vio. My lord would speak, my duty hushes me.
OIL If it be aught to the old tune, my lord,
It is as fat ^ and fulsome to mine ear.
As howling after musick.

Duke, Still so cruel ?

OIL 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?
OIL 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 love.
To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going.
^ Dull, gross.

318 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act V.

Vio, And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.

\^Following.

OIL Where goes Cesario ?

Vio. 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 :
If I do feign, you witnesses above,
Punish my life, for tainting of my love !

OIL Ah me, detested ! how am I beguil'd!

Vio, Who does beguile you ? who does do you
wrong ?

OU, Hast thou forgot thyself 1 Is it so long ! —
Call forth the holy father. \^E^lt an Attendant.

Duke, Come away. \To Viola.

OIL Whither, my lord ? — Cesario, husband, stay.

Duke, Husband?

OIL Ay, husband ; Can he that deny ?

Duke, Her husband, sirrah ?

Vio, No, my lord, not I.

on, 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 thoufear'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.
Friest, A contract of eternal bond of love,
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthened by interchangement of your rings j

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 319

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 travell'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,
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

Vi(^, My lord, I do protest, —

OfL O, do not swear ;

Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear.

Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, with Ids head
broke.

Sir And. For the love of heaven, a surgeon ;
send one presently to sir Toby.

Oli. What's the matter ?

Sir And, He has broke my head across, and has
given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too : for the love
of heaven, your help : I had rather than forty
pound, I were at home.

Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew ?

Sir And. The count's gentleman, one Cesario :
we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil
incardinate.

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario !

Sir And, Od's lifelings, here he is : — You broke
my head for nothing ; and that that I did, I was
set on to do't by sir Toby.

Vio. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you :
Y'ou drew your sword upon me, without cause j
But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not.

S20 TWELFTH-NIGHT : OR, Act V.

Sir And, If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you
have hurt me 5 I think, you set nothing by a bloody
coxcomb.

Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunhy 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 ^ 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.
[_Ea:eunt Clown, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.

Enter Sebastian.

Seh, [ 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.

^ Otherways^ ^ Serious dances.

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 321

Dulce, 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 1

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 ?

OIL 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 devoured : — -
Of charity, what kin are you to me ? [To Viola.
What countryman ? what name ? what parentage ?

Vio. Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father ;
Such a Sebastian was my brother too,
So went he suited to his watery tomb :
If spirits can assume both form and suit.
You come to fright us.

Seb. A spirit I am, indeed ;

But am in that dimension grossly clad.
Which fi-om the womb I did participate.
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek.
And say — Thrice welcome, drowned Viola !

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow.

Seb. And so had mine.

Vio. And died that day when Viola from her
birth
Had numbered thirteen years.

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul !
He finished, indeed, his mortal act.
That day that made my sister thirteen years.

VOL. I. Y

322 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act V.

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.

DuJce. Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his blood. —
If 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. ^

Oli. He shall enlarge him ; — Fetch Malvolio
hither : —
And yet, alas, now I remember me,
They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract.

Scene L WHAT YOU WILL. 32S

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, —

on. 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. ^

OIL Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits.

Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his right
wits, is to read thus : therefore perpend ^, my prin-
cess, and give ear.

OIL Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian.

Fab. [Reads.] By the Lord, madam, you wrong
me, and the world shall know it : though you have
pict 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 own letter that
induced me to the semblance I put on ; with the
which I doubt not but to do myself much tight, or
you much shame. Think of me as you please. I
leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out
of my injury. The madly used Malvolio.

Oli. Did he write this ?

Clo. Ay, madam.

Duke. This savours not much of distraction.
2 Voice. 3 Attend.

Y 2

324 TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, Act V.

OH, See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither.

lEj^it 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 "^ of your sex.
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding.
And since you calPd me master for so long.
Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be
Your master's mistress.

OIL A sister ? — you are she.

Re-enter Fabian, with Malvolio.

Duke, Is this the madman ?

OIL Ay, my lord, the same :

How now, Malvolio ?

MaL Madam, you have done me wrong,

Notorious wrong.
. OH. 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 :

^ Frame and constitution.

Scene I. WHAT YOU WILL. 325

And, acting this in an obedient hope,
Why have you suffered me to be imprison' d.
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest,
And made the most notorious geck^ and gull,
That e'er invention play'd on ? tell me why.
on, Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing.
Though I confess much hke 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 5 then cam'st in smil-
ing*
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.

Fah. Good madam, hear me speak ;

And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come.
Taint the condition of this present hour.
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not,
Most freely I confess, myselfj and Toby,
Set this device against Malvolio here.
Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts
We had conceived against him : Maria writ
The letter, at sir Toby's great importance ; ^
In recompense whereofi he hath married her.
How with a sportful malice it was follow' d.
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ;
If that the injuries be justly weigh'd.
That have on both sides past.

OIL Alas, poor fool ! how have they baffled thee !

Clo, Why, some are horn great, some achieve
greatness, and some have greatness throwii upon
them. I was one, sir, in this interlude ; one sir
Topas, sir; but that's all one: — By the Lord,

^ Fool. « Importunity.

Y 3

326 TWELFTH-NIGHT, &c. Act V.

fool, I am not mad ; — But do you remember?
Madarriy why laugh you at such a barren rascal ?
an you smile not, he's gagged : And thus the whir-
ligig of time brings in his revenges.

MaL ril be revenged on the whole pack of you.

[Exit,

OH, He hath been most notoriously abus'd.

Duke, 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,
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. JFhen that I was and a little tiny boy.
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy.
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate.

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knave and thief men shut their gate.
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas ! to wive.

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

By swaggering coidd I never thrive.
For the rain it raineth every day,

A great while ago the world begun.

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.
But that's all one, our play is done.

And xve'll strive to please you every day,

[Exit.
' Shall serve.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

Y 4

PREFACE

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 he 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 had,
Angelo abandoned his contracted wife for the most
despicable of all reasons, the loss of her fortune.

*Kirk.

330

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."

And finally, when he thought his object accom-
plished, he ordered Claudio to be murdered, in vio-
lation of his most solemn engagement.

These are the crimes, which, in the language of
Mariana, are expressed by the words a little had;
and with a perfect knowledge of Angelo's having
committed them, she

" Craves no other, nor no better nian."

Claudio's life having been preserved by the Pro-
vost, it would not, perhaps, have been lawful to
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 of
duplicity and falsehood ; and the Duke, in the fifth
act, trifles cruelly with the feelings of Isabella,
allow^ing 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

331

appears, in the first act, as the friend of Claudio,
and in the fifth he assists the cause of An gel o,
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.

PERSONS REPRESENTED,

ViNCENTio, duke of Vienna.

Angelo, lord deputy in the Duke^s absence.

EscALUS, an ancient lord, joined with Angelo in the

deputation.
Cl AUDIO, a young gentleman.
Lucio, a fantastic.
Two other like gentlemen.
Varrius, a gentleman, servant to the Duke.
Provost.

Thomas, ) . r> .
Peter, J t^^ frtars.

Elbow, a simple constable.
Clown, servant to Mrs. Overdone.
Abhorson, an executioner.
Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner.

Isabella, sister to Claudio.
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Juliet, beloved by Claudio.
Francisca, a nun.
Mistiness Overdone.

Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other
Attendants.

SCENE, Vienna.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

ACT I.

SCENE I. — Ati Apartment in the Duke'5 Palace.

Enter Duke, Esc alus, and Lords.
Duke*

EsCALUS.

Esc. My lord.

Duke. Of government the properties to unfold.
Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse.
Since 1 am put to know, that your own science
Exceeds in that the lists of all advice
My strength can give you : Then no more remains
But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able.
And let them work. The nature of our people.
Our city's institutions, and the terms
For common justice, y'are as pregnant in
As art and practice hath enriched any
That we remember : There is our commission.
From which we would not have you warp. Call

hither,
I say, bid come before us Angelo. —
What figure of us think you he will bear?

334 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.

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 thine 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
Herself 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 ;
Mortality and mercy in Vienna
Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Escalus,
Though first in question, is thy secondary.
Take thy commission.

Ang, Now, good my lord,

Scene L MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 335

Let there be some more test made of my mettle,
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamp'd upon it.

Duke, No more evasion :

We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours.
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition,
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestioned
Matters of needful value. We shall write to you.
As time and our concernings shall importune,
How it goes with us, and do look to know
What doth befall you here. So, fare you well :
To th' hopeful execution do I leave you
Of your commissions.

Ang. Yet, give leave, my lord,

That we may bring you something on the way.

Duke. My haste may not admit it ;
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
With any scruple : your scope is as mine own,
So to enforce or qualify the laws
As to your soul seems good : — Give me your

hand ;
I'll privily away : I love the people.
But do not like to stage me to their eyes :
Though it do well, I do not relish well
Their loud applause, and aves vehement :
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.

Ang, The heavens give safety to your purposes !

Esc. Lead forth, and bring you back in happi-
ness !

Duke. I thank you. — Fare you well. \_Exit.

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.

336 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.

Ang. 'Tis so with nie : —Let us withdraw to-
gether,
And we may soon our satislaction have
Touching that point.

JEiSC, I'll wait upon your honour.

\_Exeunt.

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.

1st Gent. Heaven grant us its peace; but not
the king of Hungary's !

^d 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.

Qd 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.

Lucio. 1 believe thee ; for, I think, thou never
wast where grace was said. But see, where Madam
Mitigation comes.

Enter Mrs. Overdone.

Overdone. There's one yonder, arrested and car-
ried to prison, was worth h\e thousand of you all.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 337

Isl Gent, Who's that, I pray thee ?

Overd, Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

1st Gent. Claudio to prison ! 'tis not so.

Overd, Nay, but I know 'tis so : I saw him ar-
rested; saw him carried away ; and, which is more,
within these three days his head's to be chopped
off,

Lucio, But, after all this fooling, I would not
have it so : art thou sure of this ?

Overd, I am too sure of it ; and it is on account
of Madam Julietta.

Lucio, Believe me, this may be : he promised
to meet me two hours since ; and he was ever pre-
cise in promise-keeping.

^d Gent, Besides, you know, it draws something
near to the speech we had to such a purpose.

\st Gent, But most of all, agreeing with the
proclamation.

Lucio. Away ; let's go learn the truth of it.

[_Ea;eunt Lucio aiid 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.

Clown, 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
suburbs be pulled down ?

VOL. I. z

338 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.

Clowju 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 ;
you need not change your trade ; Til 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.

\_Eoceunt,

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.

Frov, I do it not in evil disposition.
But from lord Angelo by special charge.

Claud, Thus can the demi-god. Authority,
Make us pay down for our offence by weight. —
The words of heaven ; on whom it will, it will ;
On whom it will not, so ; yet still 'tis just.

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

Scene III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 339

Turns to restraint : Our natures do pursue,
(Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,)
A thirsty evil ; and when we drink, we die.

Lucio. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest,
I would send for certain of my creditors : And yet,
to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of
freedom, as the morality of imprisonment. — What's
thy offence, Claudio ?

Claud, What, but to speak of would offend again.
Lucio, What is it ? 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 mutual intercourse,
With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
Lucio, With child, perhaps ?
Claud, Unhappily, even so.
And the new deputy now for the duke, —
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness j
Or whether that the body public be
A horse whereon the governor doth ride.
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur :
Whether the tyranny be in his place.
Or in his eminence that fills it up,

z %

340 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act I.

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 ;
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, 1 thank you, good friend Lucio.

Lucio, Within two hours, —

Claud, Come, officer, away. [Ea:eunt.

Scene IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 341

SCENE IV.
A Monastery,

Enter Duke and Friar Thomas.

Duke, No ; holy father; throw away that thought;
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a complete bosom : why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.

Fri, May your grace speak of it.

Duke, My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd ;
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies.
Where youtli, 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 travelled to Poland ;
For so I have strew'd it in the common ear.
And so it is received : 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,)
Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep ;
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave.
That goes not out to prey : Now, as fond fathers
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their children's sight.
For terror, not to use ; in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd : so our decrees.
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

z S

S42 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act L

The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

Fri, It rested in your grace

To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas'd :
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd,
Than in lord Angelo.

Duke, ' I do fear, too dreadful :

Sith 'twas my fault, to give the people scope,
'Twould be my tyranny to strike, and gall them
For what I bid them do : For we bid this be done.
When evil deeds have their permissive pass,
And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my

father,
I have on Angelo imposed the office ;
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home.
And yet my nature never in the sight.
To do it slander : And to behold his sway,
I will, as 'twere a brotlier of your order,
Visit both prince and people : therefore, I pr'ythee.
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person bear me
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action,
At our more leisure shall I render you ;
Only, this one : — Lord Angelo is precise ;
Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone : Hence shall we see.
If power change purpose, what our seemers be.

\_Ea:eunt,

SCENE V,
A Nunnery.

Enter Isabella and Francisca.

Isah, And have you nuns no further privileges?
Fran, Are not these large enough ?

Scene V. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 343

Isab, Yes, truly : I speak not as desiring more ;
But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint Clare.

Lucio, Ho ! Peace be in this place ! [ Within,

Isab, Who's that which calls ?

Fran, It is a man's voice : Gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his business of him ;
You may, I may not ; you are yet unsworn :
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with

men,
But in the presence of the prioress :
Then, if you speak, you must not show your face ;
Or if you show your face, you must not speak.
He calls again ; I pray you answer him.

[jBct// Fran CISC a.

Isab, 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 :
His friend's with child by him.

Isab. Sir, make me not your story.*

' Do not make a jest of me.
z 4

SU MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act L

Lucio. It is true.

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 '\
'tis thus :
Your brother and his lover have embrac'd :

Isab, 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
^y 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,
2 jn f'e;^' ^x\(\ true words.

Scene V. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 945

To make him an example : all hope is gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo : And that's my pith
Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother.

Isab, Doth he so seek his life ?

Lucio. Has censur'd^ him

Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath
A warrant for his execution.

Isab, Alas ! what poor ability's in me
To do him good ?

Lucio, Assay the power you have.

Isab, My power ! Alas ! I doubt, —

Lucio, Our doubts are traitors.

And make us lose the good we oft might win.
By fearing to attempt : Go to lord Angelo,
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue.
Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel.
All their petitions are as freely theirs
As they themselves would owe'* them.

Isab, I'll see what I can do.

Lucio, But speedily.

Isab, I will about it straight ;
No longer staying but to give the mother
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you :
Commend me to my brother : soon at night
I'll send him certain word of my success.

Lucio, I take my leave of you.

Isab, Good sir, adieu.

\_Exeunt,
^ Sentenced. 4 Have.

846 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

ACT IL

SCENE h—J Hall in KugMs House.

Enter Angelo, Escalus, Provost, Officers,
and other Attendants.

Aug, 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.

JEscaL 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
prr'd in this point which now you censure him.
And pull'd the law upon you.

Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny.
The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two
Guiltier than him they try : What's open made to

justice.
That justice seizes. What know the laws,
That thieves do pass on thieves ? 'Tis very preg-
nant.
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it,

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 347

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 ?

Fr^ov, 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.

\^Ea:eunt 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.

[^ExiL

SCENE II.
Another Room in the same.

Enter Provost and a Servant.

Ser\), He's hearing of a cause \ he will come
straight.
I'll tell him of you.

Fro'v, Pray you, do. \E3cit Servant.] I'll know
His pleasure ; may be, he will relent :

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter. Provost P

^ Because.

348 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IL

ProX), Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ?

Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea ? hadst thou not
order ?
Why dost thou ask again ?

Prov. Lest 1 might be too rash :

Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Ang, Go to ; let that be mine :

Do you your office, or give up your place.
And you shall well be spar'd.

Prov, I crave your honour's pardon. —

What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ?
She's very near her hour.

Ang, Dispose of her

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.

[^Ea^it 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, 1 am a woeful suitor to your honour:
Please but your honour hear me.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 349

Aug, Well ; what's your suit?

Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice ;
For which I would not plead, but that I must ;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang, Well ; the matter ?

Isab, I have a brother is condemned 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 condemned, 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,

Lucio, \_To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him
again, intreat him ;
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ;
You are too cold : if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it :
To him, I say.

Isab, Must he needs die ?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy,

Isab, Yes; I do think that you might pardon him.
And neither Heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.

Ang, I will not do't.

Isab, But can you, if you would ?

Ang, Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

Isab, But might you do't, and do the world no
wrong ?
If so, your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him.

Ang, He's sentenc'd : 'tis too late.

350 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

Lucio, 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.
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you.
And you as he, jou would have slipt like him ;
But he, hke you, would not have been so stern.

Aug, 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,
If 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.

Ang, Be you content, fair maid ;

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother :
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son.
It should be thus with him ; — he must die to-mor-
row.

Isab, To-morrow ? O, that's sudden ! Spare him,
spare him :
He's not prepar'd for death !
Good, good my lord, bethink you :
Who is it that hath died for this offence ?
There's many have committed it.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 351

Lucio, Ay, well said.

Ang, The law hath not been dead, though it
hath slept :
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If 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®, petty officer,
Would use his heaven for thunder ; nothing but

thunder. —
Merciful heaven !

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled ^ oak.
Than the soft myrtle ; — O, but man, proud man !
Drest in a little brief authority ;
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,

« Paltry. 7 Knotted.

352 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

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.

Isah. That in the captain's but a choleric word.
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Lucio, Art ad vis' 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 'tis

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-mor-
row.

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 else.

Isab, Not with fond shekels of the tested ^ gold,
3 Stamped.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 353

Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor,
As fancy values them : but with true prayers.
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there.
Ere sun-rise ; prayers from preserved^ souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well : come to me

To-morrow.

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, iiye !
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,

^ Preserved from the corruption of the world.
VOL. I. A A

354 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

That I desire to hear her speak again,

And feast upon her eyes ? What is't I dream on ?

O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint.

With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous

Is that temptation, that doth goad 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 smiPd, and wonder'd how.

SCENE III.

A JRx)om in a Prison.

Enter Duke, habited like a Friar, and Provost.

Duke, Hail to you, provost ! so I think you are.
Frov, I am the provost : What's your will, good

friar ?
Duke, Bound by my charity, and my bless'd
order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison : do me the common right
To let me see them ; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.

Frov, I would do more than that, if more were
needful.

Enter Juliet.

Look, here comes one ; a gentlewoman of mine.
Who falling in the flames of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report : She is with child ;
And he that owns it, sentenc'd.

Duke, When must he die ?

«CENE III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 355

Prov, As I do think, to-morrow. —
I have provided for you ; stay a while, [^To Juliet.
And you shall be conducted.

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 1 am going with instruction to him. —
Grace go with you ! Benedicite ! \^Ea:it,

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. lE^eunt.

A A ^

356 MEASUKE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

SCENE IV.
A Room in Angelo's House,

Enter Angelo.

Aug, 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 ^ 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.

Aug* Teach her the way. \_Ea:it Serv.

O heavens !

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ;
Making both it unable for itselfi
And dispossessing all the other parts
Of necessary fitness ?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ;

1 Profit.

Scene IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 357

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.

Enter Isabella.

How now, fair maid?

Isab, 1 am come to know your pleasure.

Ang, That you might know it, would much
better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot
live.

Isah. Even so ? — Heaven keep your honour !

\_Retiring,

Ang, Yet may he live a while ; and, it may be
As long as you or I : Yet he must die.

Isab, Under your sentence ?

Ang, Yea.

Isab, When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve.
Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted.
That his soul sicken not.

Ang, Ha ! 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.

Isab, *Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.

Ang, Say you so ? then I shall pose you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most just law
Now took your brother's life ; or, to redeem him.
Give up your person to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stained ?

3 The people.
A A 3

358 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

Isab. Sir, believe this,

I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang, I talk not of your soul ; our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than accompt.

Isab. How say you ?

Aug. Nay, Fll not warrant that ; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this ; —
I, now the voice of the recorded law.
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life :
Might there not be a charity in sin.
To save this brother's life ?

Isab. Please you to do't,

I'll take it as a peril to my soul.
It is no sin at all, but charity.

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul,
Were equal poise of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin.
Heaven, let me bear it ! you granting of my suit.
If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine.
And nothing of your answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me :

Your sense pursues not mine : either you are 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 ^ beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could displayed. — But mark me j
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.
^ Covered.

Scene IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 359

Isab, True.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any otlier.
But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desii-'d of such a person.
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 down the treasures of your person
To this supposed, or else let him suffer ;
What would you do ?

Isab. As much for my poor brother as myself:
That is, were I under the terms of death.
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 him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander' d so ?

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon.
Are of two houses : lawful mercy is
Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab. 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.

A A 4<

360 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act II.

I-'iab, Else let my brother die.

If not a feodary \ but only he,
Owe ^ and succeed by weakness.

Aug. Nay, women are frail too.

Isab, Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
selves ;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women ! — Help heaven ! men their creation mar
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ;
For we are soft as our complexions are.
And credulous to false prints.^

Ang, I think it well :

And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold ;
I do arrest your words ; be that you are,
That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none j
If you be one, (as you are well expressed
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

Isab, I have no tongue but one : gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you, speak the former language.
Ang, Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet ; and you tell me,
That he shall die for it.

Ang, He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab, I know your virtue hath a licence 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 belieVd,
And most pernicious purpose! — Seeming, seeming 1
I will proclaim thee, Angelo ; look fbr't :
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, Til tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

4 Associate. ^ Own. ^ Impressions.

Scene IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 361

Aug, Who will believe thee, Isabel?

My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life.
My vouch against you, and my place i'the state.
Will so your accusation overweigh.
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun ;
And now I give my sensual race the rein :
Lay by all nicety ; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy person to my will ;
Or else he must not only die the death.
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance : answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him : As for you,
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

\_Exit,

I sab. 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. \_Ea:it.

362 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

ACT III.

SCENE 1,—A Room in the Prison,

Enter Duke, Claudio, a7id 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 prepared to die.

Duke, Be absolute for death : either death, or life,
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with

life, —
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art,
(Servile to all the skiey influences,)
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st.
Hourly afflict : merely, thou art death's fool ;
For him thou labourist by thy flight to shun.
And yet run'st toward him still : Thou art not

noble ;
For all the accomodations that thou bear'st.
Are nurs'd by baseness : Thou art by no means

valiant ;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep.
And that thou oft provok'st ; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust : Happy thou art not :
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get ;
And what thou hast, fbrget'st: Thou art not

certain ;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects ^

7 Affects, affections.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 363

After the moon : If thou art rich, thou art poor ;
For, like'an ass,^whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey.
And death unloads thee : Friend hast thou none ;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire.
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo ^ and the rheum.
For ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor youth,

nor age ;
But, as it were, an afler-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.

Claud, I 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.

^ Leprous eruptions.

364 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be con-
ceal'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 leiger ^ :
Therefore your best appointment make with speed ;
To-morrow you set on.

Claud. Is there no remedy ?

Isab, None, but such remedy, as to save a head.
To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any ?

Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ;
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life.
But fetter you till death.

Claud. Perpetual durance ?

Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a restraint,
Though all the world's 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 ^
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ?
The sense of death is most in apprehension ;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon.
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

^ Resident.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 365

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,
And hug it in mine arms.

Isab, There spake my brother; there my father's
grave
Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die :
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, —
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i'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,
If I would yield him my virginity.
Thou might'st be freed ?

Claud, O, heavens ! it cannot be.

Isab, 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.

Isab, O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud, Thanks, dear Isabel.

Isab, Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-
morrow.

Claud, YeSc — 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.

Isab, Which is the least ?

366 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Claud, If it were damnable, he, being so wise,
Why, would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd ? — O Isabel !

Isab, What says my brother ?

Claud, Death is a fearfiil thing.

Isah. 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
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible !
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.

I sab, Alas ! alas !

Claud, Sweet sister, let me live :

What sin you do to save a brother's life.
Nature dispenses with the deed so far.
That it becomes a virtue.

Isab, O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice ?
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own sister's shame ?
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.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 367

Isab, O, fye, fye, ^ye !

Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade :
'Tis best that thou diest quickly. [Goi7ig\

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
a while.

Duke. [To Cl AUDIO, 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 re-
ceive : 1 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 1 will sue to be rid of it.

Duke. Hold you there : Farewell.

\_Ea:it Claudio.

Re-enter Provost.

Provost, a word with you.

Prov, What's your will, father ?

368 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Duke, That now you are come you will be gone :
Leave me a while with the maid ; my mind promises
with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my com-
pany.

Prov, In good time. \_Ea:it 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 ?

I sab. 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,
fasten your ear on my advisings : to the love I
have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I
do make myself believe, that you may most up-
righteously do a poor wronged lady a merited
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

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 369

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 ap-
pointed : 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 renowned brother, in his love toward her
ever most kind and natural ; with him the portion
and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry ;
with both, her combinate ^ husband, this well seem-
ing 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, Hke an impediment in the current,
made it more violent and unruly. Go you to

^ Betrothed.
VOL. I. B B

370 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Angelo ; answer his requiring with a plausible obe-
dience ; agree with his demands to the point :
only refer yourself to this advantage, — first, that
your stay with him may not be long ; that the time
may have all shadow and silence in it; and the
place answer to convenience : this being granted
in course, 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 ofit gives me content already; and
I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

Duke, It lies much in your holding up : Haste
you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat
you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I
will presently to St. Luke's ; there, at the moated
grange, resides this dejected Mariana : At that
place call upon me ; and despatch with Angelo,
that it may be quickly.

Isab, I thank you for this comfort : Fare you well,
good father. [^Ea^eujit severally,

SCENE II.

The Street before the Prison,

Enter Duke, as a Friar ; to him Elbow, Clown,
and Officers,

Elb, Nay, if there be no remedy of it, but that
you will needs buy and sell men and women like
2 Over-reached.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 371

beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and
white bastard.^

Duke, O, heavens ! what stuff is here ?

Clo, 'Twas never merry world, since, of two
usuries, the merriest was put down, and the w^orser
allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him
warm ; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to
signify, that craft, being richer than innocency,
stands for the facing,

Elb, Come your way, sir ; — Bless you, good
fathej* friar.

Duke. And you, good brother father : What of-
fence hath this man made you, sir ?

Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law ; and,
sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir : for we have
found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we
have sent to the deputy.

Duke, Fye, sirrah.
Take him to prison, officer ;
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb, He must before the deputy, sir; he has
given him \yarning.

Duke, That we were all, as some would seem to
be.
Free from our faults, as faults from seeming free!

Enter Lucio.

Elb, His neck will come to your waist, a cord,

sir.
Clo, I spy comfort ; I cry bail : Here's a gentle-
man, and a friend of mine.

Lucio, How now, noble Pompey ? What, at the
heels of Caesar ? Art thou led in triumph ? Art
going to prison, Pompey ?
Clo, Yes, faith, sir.

^ A sweet wine.
B B 2

372 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey : Farewell :
Go ; say, I sent thee thither.

Clo, I hope, sir, your good worship will be my
bail.

Lucio, No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not
the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your
bondage : if you take it not patiently, why your
mettle is the more : Adieu, trusty Pompey. — Bless
you, friar.

Duke, And you.

Lucio, Does Bridget paint still, Pompey ? Ha ?

Elb, Come your ways, sir ; come.

Clo, You will not bail me then, sir ?

Lucio, Then, Pompey ? nor now. — What news
abroad, friar ? What news?

Elb, Come your ways, sir ; come.

Lucio, Go, — to kennel, Pompey, go :

{^Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers,
What news, friar, of the duke ?

Duke, I know none : Can you tell me of any ?

Lucio, Some say, he is with the emperor of
Russia ; other some, he is in Rome : But where is
he, think you ?

Duke, I know not where : But wheresoever, I
wish him well.

Lucio, It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to
steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was
never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his
absence ; he puts transgression to't.

Duke, He does well in't.

Lucio, A little more lenity to wenching would
do no harm in him : something too crabbed that
way, friar.

Duke, It is too general a vice, and severity must
cure it.

Lucio, Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great
kindred ; it is well ally'd.

Duke, You are pleasant, sir ; and speak apace.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 373

Lucio, Why, what a ruthless thing is it in An-
gelo to take away the Ufe of a man thus ? Would
the duke that is absent have done this? He knew
the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

Duhe. I never heard the absent duke much de-
tected for women ; he was not inclined that way.

Lucio, O, sir, you are deceived.

Duke» 'Tis not possible.

Lucio, Who ? not the duke ? yes, yoiu* beggar
of fifty ; — and his use was, to put a ducat in her
clack-dish"^ : the duke had crotchets in him : He
would be drunk too ; that let me inform you.

Duke. You do him wrong, surely.

Lucio, Sir, I was an inward of his : a shy fellow
was the duke : and I believe I know the cause of
his withdrawing.

Duke, What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause ?

Lucio, No, — pardon ; — 'tis a secret must be
lock'd within the teeth and the lips : but this I can
let you understand, — The greater file of the sub-
ject held the duke to be wise.

Duke, Wise ? why, no question but he was.

Lucio, A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing
fellow.

Duke, Either this is envy in you, folly, or mis-
taking ; the very stream of his life, and the business
he hath helmed^ must, upon a warranted need, give
him a better proclamation. Let him be but testi-
monied in his own bringings forth, and he shall
appear to the envious, a scholar, a statesman, and a
soldier : Therefore, you speak unskilfully ; or, if
your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in
your malice.

^ Clack-dish : The beggars, two or three centuries ago, used
to proclaim their want by a wooden dish with a moveable cover,
which they clacked, to show that their vessel was empty.

^ Guided.

B B 3

374 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Aci IIL

Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him.

Duke, Love talks with better knowledge, and
knowledge with dearer love.

Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know.

Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know
not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return,
(as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to
make your answer before him : If it be honest you
have spoke, you have courage to maintain it : I am
bound to call upon you ; and, I pray you, your
name?

Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to
the duke.

Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may
live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not.

Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more ;
or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But,
indeed, I can do you little harm : you'll forswear
this again.

Lucio. ril be hanged first : thou art deceived in
me, friar. But no more of this : I would, the duke,
we talk oi\ were returned again : this agent will
unpeople the province. Farewell, good|friar : I
pr'ythee pray for me. The duke, I say to thee
again, would eat mutton on Fridays : say, that I
said so. Farewell. \_Ea:it.

Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure 'scape ; back- wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes : What king^so strong,
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ?
But who comes here ?

Enter Escalus, Provost, Overdone, and Officers,

Escal. Go, away with her to prison.
Over. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honour
is accounted a merciful man : good my lord.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 375

Escal Double and treble admonition, and still
forfeit^ in the same kind! This would make mercy
swear, and play the tyrant. — Away with her to
prison : Go to ; no more words. [^Ea^eunt Overdone
and Officers,'] Provost, my brother Angelo will not
be altered ; Ciaudio must die to-morrow : let him
be furnished with divines, and have all charitable
preparation : if my brother wrought by my pity, it
should not be so with him.

Prov, So please you, this friar hath been with
him, and advised him for the entertainment of
death.

EscaL Good even, good father.

Duke, Bliss and goodness on you !

EscaL Of whence are you ?

Duhe. Not of this country, though my cliance is
now
To use it for my time : I am a brother
Of gracious order, late come from the see,
In special business from his holiness.

EscaL What news abroad i' the world ?

Duke, None, but that there is so great a fever on
goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it:
novelty is only in request ; and it is as danger-
ous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is vir-
tuous to be constant in any undertaking. There
is scarce truth enough alive, to make societies
secure ; but security enough, to make fellowships
accurs'd : much upon this riddle runs the wisdom
of the w^orld. This news is old enough, yet it is
every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposi-
tion was the duke ?

EscaL One, that, above all other strifes, con-
tended especially to know himself.

Duke, What pleasure was he given to ?

^ Transgress.
B B 4

376 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act III.

Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry,
than merry at any thing which profess' d to make
him rejoice : a gentleman of all temperance. But
leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may
prove prosperous : and let me desire to know how
you find Claudio prepared. I am made to under-
stand, that you have lent him visitation.

Duke, He professes to have received no sinister
measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles
himself to the determination of justice: yet had he
framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty,
many deceiving promises of life ; which I, by my
good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is
he resolved to die.

EscaL You have paid the heavens your function,
and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I
have labour' d for the poor gentleman, to the ex-
tremest shore of my modesty ; but my brother jus-
tice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me
to tell him, he is indeed — justice.

Duke, If his own life answer the straitness of his
proceeding, it shall become him well ; wherein, if
he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.

EscaL I am going to visit the prisoner: Fare
you well.

Duke, Peace be with you !

[_Ea:eunt Escalus and Provost.
He, who the sword of heaven will bear.
Should be as holy as severe ;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go ;
More nor less to others paying.
Than by self-ofiences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruel striking-
Kills for faults of his own liking !
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice, and let his grow I

Act IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 3 77

O, what may man within him hide,

Though angel on the outward side !

How may likeness, made in crimes,

Making practice on the times,

Draw with idle spiders' strings

Most pond'rous and substantial things !

Craft against vice I must apply :

With Angelo to-night shall lie

His old betrothed, but despis'd ;

So disguise shall, by the disguis'd.

Pay with falsehood false exacting,

And perform an old contracting. [_Ea:iL

ACT IV.

SCENE L — A Room in Mariana'5 House,

Mariana discovered sitting ; a Boy singing,

SONG.

Take, oh take those lips away.

That so sweetly were forsworn ;
And those eyes, the break of day.

Lights that do mislead the morn :
But my kisses bring again,

bring again^
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,

seaVd in vain,

Mari, Break off thy song, and haste thee quick
away ;
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. —

\Exit Boy.

378 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

Enter Duke*

1 cry you mercy, sir ; and well could wish

You had not found me here so musical :

Let me excuse me, and believe me so, —

My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe.

Duke, 'Tis good : though music ofl hath such a
charm.
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
I pray you, tell me, hath any body enquired for me
here to-day ? much upon this time have I promised
here to meet.

Man, You have not been enquired after: I
have sat here all day.

Enter Isabella.

Duke, I do constantly believe you : — The time
is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance
a little : may be, I will call upon you anon, for
some advantage to yourself

Mart, I am always bound to you. [Ejcit,

Duke, Very well met, and welcome.
What is the news from this good deputy ?

Isab, He hath a garden circummur'd ^ with brick.
Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ;
And to that vineyard is a planched ® gate.
That makes his opening with this bigger key :
This other doth command a little door,
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads ;
There have I made my promise to call on him,
Upon the heavy middle of the night.

Duke, But shall you on your knowledge find this
way?

Isab, I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't ;

7 Walkd round. ^ Planked, wooden.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 379

With whispering and most guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice o'er.

Duke, Are there no other tokens

Between you 'greed, concerning her observance ?

Isab, No, none, but only a repair i' the dark ;
And that I have possess'd him, my most stay
Can be but brief: for I have made him know,
I have a servant comes with me along.
That stays upon me ; whose persuasion is,
I come about my brother.

Duke, 'Tis well borne up.

I have not yet made known to Mariana
A word of this : — What ho ! within ! come forth !

Re-enter. Mariana.

I pray you, be acquainted with this maid ;
She comes to do you good.

Isab, I do desire the like*

Duke, Do you persuade yourself that I respect

you?
Mart, Good friar, I know you do ; and have

found it.
Duke, Take then this your companion by the
hand.
Who hath a story ready for your ear :
I shall attend your leisure ; but make haste ;
The vaporous night approaches.

Mari, Will't please you walk aside ?

\_Ea:eunt Mariana and Isabella.
Duke, O place and greatness, millions of false
eyes
Are stuck upon thee! volumes of report
Run with these false and most contrarious quests'^
Upon thy doings! thousand 'scapes^ of wit
^ Inquisitions, inquiries. i Sallies.

380 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

Make thee the father of their idle dream,
And rack thee in their fancies ! — Welcome ! How
agreed ?

Re-enter Mariana, and Isabella.

Isab, She'll take the enterprise upon her, father.
If you advise it.

Duke, It is not my consent,

But my intreaty too.

Isah, Little have you to say,

When you depart from him, but, soft and low,
Remember now my brother.

Mart. Fear me not.

Duke, Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all :
He is your husband on a pre-contract :
To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin ;
Sith that the justice of your title to him
Doth flourish^ the deceit. Come, let us go ;
Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's^ to sow.

[Exeunt,

SCENE II.

A Room in the Prison.

Enter Provost and Clown.

Prov, Come hither, sirrah : Can you cut off a
man's head ?

Clo, If the man be a batchelor, sir, I can : but if
he be a married man, he is his wife's head, and I
can never cut off a woman's head.

Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and
yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are

'^ Gild, or varnish over.

3 Tilth, land prepared for sowing.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 381

to die Claudio and Barnardine : here is in our pri-
son a common executioner, who in his office lacks
a helper : if you will take it on you to assist him,
it shall redeem you from your gyves "^ ; if not, you
shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your
deliverance with an unpitied whipping.

Clo, Sir, I will be content to be a lawful hang-
man. I would be glad to receive some instruction
from my fellow-partner.

Prov, What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Abhorson,
there ?

Enter Abhorson.

Abhor, Do you call, sir ?

Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-
morrow in your execution : If you think it meet,
compound with him by the year, and let him abide
here with you ; if not, use him for the present, and
dismiss him.

Abhor. Fye upon him, he will discredit our mys-
tery.^

Prov, Go to, sir ; you weigh equally ; a feather
will turn the scale. \_Eirit,

Clo, Pray, sir, by your good favour, (for, surely,
sir, a good favour you have, but that you have
a hanging look,) do you call, sir, your occupation
a mystery ?

Abhor, Ay, sir ; a mystery.

Clo, Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery,
but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I
should be hang'd, I cannot imagine.

Abhor, Sir, it is a mystery.

Clo, Proof.

Abhor, Every true man's apparel fits your thief:
if it be too little for your thief, your true man
thinks it big enough 5 if it be too big for your
4 Fetters. 5 Trade.

382 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

thiefi your thief thinks it little enough : so every
true man's apparel fits your thief.

Re-enter Provost.

P7^ov, Are you agreed ?

Clo, Sir, I will serve him ; for I do find, your
hangman is a penitent trade ; he doth often ask
forgiveness.

Prov, You, sirrah, provide your block and your
axe, to-morrow, four o'clock.

Abhor, Come on ; I will instruct thee in my
trade ; follow.

Clo. I do desire to learn, sir ; and, I hope, if you
have occasion to use me for your own turn, you
shall find me yare ^ : for truly sir, for your kindness,
I owe you a good turn.

Prov, Call hither Barnardine and Claudio :

[Exeunt Clown and Abhorson.
One has my pity ; not a jot the other,
Being a murderer, though he were my brother.

Enter Claudio.

Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death :
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnar-
dine ?
Claud, As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless la-
bour
When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones :
He will not wake.

Prov, Who can do good on him ?

Well, go, prepare yourself But hark, what noise ?

[Knocking within.
Heaven give your spirits comfort ! [_Ea:it Claudio.
By and by : —

^ Ready.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 38S

1 hope it is some pardon, or reprieve,

For the most gentle Claudio. — Welcome, father.

Enter Duke.

Duke, The best and wholesomest spirits of the
night
Envelope you, good provost ! Who call'd here of
late ?

Prov, None, since the curfew rung.

Duke, Not Isabel?

Prov, No.

Duke, They will then, ere't be long.

Prov, What comfort is for Claudio ?

Duke, There's some in hope.

Prov. It is a bitter deputy.

Duke, Not so, not so ; his life is parallel'd
Even with the stroke and line of his great justice ;
He doth with holy abstinence subdue
That in himself, which he spurs on his power
To qualify in others : were he meal'd ^
With that which he corrects, then were he tyran-
nous ;
But this being so, he's just. — Now are they come.
[_Knocking within, — Provost goes out.
This is a gentle provost : Seldom, when
The steel'd gaoler is the friend of men. —
How now ? what noise ? That spirit's possessed

with haste,
That wounds the unsistingpostern with these strokes.

Provost returns, speaking to one at the door,

Prov, There he must stay until the officer
Arise to let him in ; he is call'd up.

Duke, Have you no countermand for Claudio yet.
But he must die to-morrow ?
7 Defiled.

384 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

Prov. None, sir, none.

Duke, As near the dawning, provost, as it is,
You shall hear more ere morning.

Prov. Happily, »

You something know ; yet, 1 believe, there comes
No countermand ; no such example have we :
Besides, upon the very siege ^ of justice,
Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
Profess'd the contrary.

Enter a Messenger.

T>uke. This is his lordship's man.

Prov, And here comes Claudio's pardon.

Mess, My lord hath sent you this note ; and by
me this further charge, that you swerve not from
the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or
other circumstance. Good morrow ; for, as I take
it, it is almost day.

Prov, I shall obey him. \JExit Messenger.

Duke, This is his pardon ; purchased by such sin,

\^Aside,
For which the pardoner himself is in :
Hence hath offence his quick celerity.
When it is borne in high authority :
When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended.
That for the fault's love, is the offender friended. —
Now, sir, what news ?

Prov, I told you : Lord Angelo, belike, thinking
me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this un-
wonted putting on : methinks, strangely \ for he
hath not used it before.

Duke, Pray you, let's hear.

Prov, [Reads.] Whatsoever you may hear to the
contrary^ let Claudio be executed by four of the clock ;
and, in the afternoon, Barnardine : for my better
8 Perhaps. ^ Seat.

Scene II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 385

sathf action, let me have Claudio^s head sent me by
Jive, Let this be duly performed : with a thought,
that more depends on it than we must yet deliver.
Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it
at your peril.
What say you to this, sir ?

Duke, What is that Barnardine, who is to be
executed in the afternoon ?

Prov, A Bohemian born ; but here nursed up
and bred: one that is a prisoner nine years old.

Duke, How came it, that the absent duke had
not either delivered him to his liberty, or exe-
cuted him ? 1 have heard, it was ever his manner
to do so.

Prov, His friends still wrought reprieves for
him : And, indeed, his fact, till now in the govern-
ment of lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful
proof.

Duke, Is it now apparent ?

Prov, Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

Duke, Hath he borne him self penitently in prison?
How seems he to be touch'd ?

Prov, A man that apprehends death no more,
dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep ; careless, reck-
less, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come;
insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Duke, He wants advice.

Prov, He will hear none : he hath evermore had
the liberty of the prison ; give him leave to escape
hence, he would not : drunk many times a day, if
not many days entirely drunk. We have very
often awaked him, as if to carry him to execution,
and showed him a seeming warrant for it : it hath
not moved him at all.

Duke, More of him anon. There is written in
your brow, provost, honesty and constancy : if I

^ Nine years in prison.
VOL. I. C C

386 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but
in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in
hazard. Claudio, whom here you have a warrant
to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than
Angelo who hath sentenc'd him : To make you
understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but
four days' respite ; for the which you are to do me
both a present and a dangerous courtesy.

Prov, Pray, sir, in what ?

Duke, In the delaying death.

Prov, Alack! how may I do it? having the
hour limited ; and an express command, under
penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo ?
I may make my case as Claudio' s, to cross this in
the smallest.

Duke, By the vow of mine order, I warrant you,
if my instructions may be your guide. Let this
Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head
borne to Angelo.

Prov, Angelo hath seen them both, and will dis-
cover the favour. ^

Duke, O, death's a great disguiser: arid you
may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard ;
and say, it was the desire of the penitent to be so
bared before his death : you know, the course is
common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more
than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I
profess, I will plead against it with my life.

Prov, Pardon me, good father ; it is against my
oath.

Duke, Were you sworn to the duke, or to the
deputy ?

Prov, To him, and to his substitutes.

Duke, You will think you have made no offence,
if the duke avouch the justice of your deahng?

Prov, But what Hkelihood is in that ?
2 Countenance.

Scene III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 387

Duke, Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet
since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, in-
tegrity, nor my persuasion, can with ease attempt
you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all
fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand
and seal of the duke. You know the character, I
doubt not ; and the signet is not strange to you.

Prov, I know them both.

Duke. The contents of this is the return of the
duke ; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure ;
where you shall find, within these two days he will
be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not :
for he this very day receives letters of strange
tenor ; perchance, of the duke's death : perchance,
entering into some monastery ; but, by chance,
nothing of what is writ. Look, the unfolding star
calls up the shepherd : put not yourself into amaze-
ment, how these things should be :. all difficulties
are but easy when they are known. Call your
executioner, and off with Barnardine's head : I will
give him a present shrift, and advise him for a bet-
ter place. Yet you are amazed ; but this shall
absolutely resolve you. Come away, it is almost
clear dawn. \ Exeunt,

SCENE III.

Another Room in the same.

Enter Clown.

Clo, I am as well acquainted here, as I was in
our house of profession : one would think, it were
mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many
of her old customers.

Enter Abhorson.

Abhor, Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither,
c c 2

388 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

Clo, Master Barnardine ! you must rise and be
hang'd, master Barnardine !

Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine!

Barnar, \_Within.~\ A plague o' your throats!
Who makes that noise there ? What are you ?

Clo. Your friends, sir ; the hangmen : You must
be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.

Barnar, \_Within,~\ Away, you rogue, away; I
am sleepy.

Abhor, Tell him, he must awake, and that quickly
too.

Clo, Pray master Barnardine, awake till you are
executed, and sleep afterwards.

Abhor, Go in to him, and fetch him out.

Clo, He is coming sir, he is coming ; I hear his
straw rustle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abhor, Is the axe upon the block, sirrah ?

Clo, Very ready, sir.

Barnar, How now, Abhorson ? what's the news
with you ?

Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap
into your prayers : for, look you, the warrant's
come.

Barnar, You rogue, I have been drinking all
night ; I am not fitted for't.

Clo, O, the better, sir ; for he that drinks all
night, and is hang'd betimes in the morning, may
sleep the sounder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

Abhor, Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly
father : Do we jest now, think you ?

Duke, Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing
how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise
you, comfort you, and pray with you.

Scene III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 389

Barnar. Friar, not I ; I have been drinking hard
all night, and I will have more time to prepare me,
or they shall beat out my brains with billets : I will
not consent to die this day, that's certain.

Duke, O, sir, you must : and therefore I beseech
you,
Look forward on the journey you shall go.

Barnar, I swear, I will not die to-day for any
man's persuasion.

Duke, But hear you

Barnar, Not a word ; if you have any thing to
say to me, come to my ward ; for thence will not
I to-day. \_Exit,

Enter Provost.

Duke, Unfit to live, or die : O, gravel heart ! —
After him, fellows ; bring him to the block.

\Exeunt Abhorson and Clown.

Prov, Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner ?

Duke, A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death ;
And, to transport him in the mind he is.
Were horrible.

Prov, Here, in the prison, father.

There died this morning of a cruel fever
One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
A man of Claudio's years ; his beard and head.
Just of his colour : What if we do omit
This reprobate, till he were well inclined ;
And satisfy the deputy with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio ?

Duke, O, 'tis an accident that Heaven provides I
Despatch it presently ; the hour draws on
Prefix'd by Angelo : See this be done.
And sent according to command ; whiles I
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die,

Prov, This shall be done, good father, presently.
But Barnardine must die this afternoon :
: c c 3

390 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

And how shall we continue Claudio,

To save me from the danger that might come,

If he were known alive ?

Duke. Let this be done : put them in secret
holds,
Both Barnardine and Claudio : Ere twice
The sun hath made his journal greeting to
The under generation ^ you shall find
Your safety manifested.

Prov. I am your free dependant.

Duke, Quick, despatch.

And send the head to Angelo. \_Ea:it Provost.

Now will I write letters to Angelo, —
The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents
Shall witness to him, I am near at home ;
And that by great injunctions, I am bound
To enter publickly : him I'll desire
To meet me at the consecrated fount,
A league below the city ; and from thence,
By cold gradation and weal-balanced form.
We shall proceed with Angelo.

Re-enter Provost.

Prov, Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself.

Duke. Convenient is it : Make a swifl return ;
For I would commune with you of such things.
That want no ear but yours.

Prov. I'll make all speed. [^Exit.

Isab. \_Within.~] Peace, ho, be here !

Duke. The tongue of Isabel : — She's come to
know.
If yet her brother's pardon be come hither :
But I will keep her ignorant of her good.
To make her heavenly comforts of despair.
When it is least expected.

'^ The antipodes.

Scene III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 391

Enter Isabella.

Isab, Ho, by your leave.

Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious
daughter.

Isab, The better, given me by so holy a man.
Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon ?

Duke, He hath released him, Isabel, from the
world ;
His head is oif, and sent to Angelo.

Isab, Nay, but it is not so.

Duke. It is no other :

Show yourwisdom, daughter, in your close patience.

Isab. Unhappy Claudio ! Wretched Isabel !
Injurious world ! Accursed Angelo !

Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot;
Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to Heaven.
Mark what I say ; which you shall find
By every syllable, a faithful verity :
The duke comes home to-morrow; — nay, dry your

ey

es

One of our convent, and his confessor.

Gives me this instance : Already he hath carried

Notice to Escalus and Angelo ;

Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,

There to give up their power. If you can, pace

your wisdom
In that good path that I would wish it go ;
And you shall have your bosom ^ on this wretch,
Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart.
And general honour.

Isab, I am directed by you.

Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give ;
'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return :
Say, by this token, I desire his company

^ Your heart's desire.

c c 4 .

392 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV..

At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause, and yours,
I'll perfect him withal ; and he shall bring you "
Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo
Accuse him home, and home. For my poor selfj
1 am combined by a sacred vow,
And shall be absent. Wend ^ you with this letter :
Command these fretting waters from your eyes
With a light heart ; trust not my holy order,
If I pervert your course. — Who's here ?

Enter Lucio.

Lucio, Good even !

Friar, where is the provost ?

Duke, Not within, sir,

Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart,
to see thine eyes so red : thou must be patient : But
they say the duke will be here to-moriow. By my
troth, Isabel, I lov'd thy brother : if the old fantas-
tical duke of dark corners had been at home, he
had lived. \^Ea:it Isabella.

Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden
to your reports ; but the best is, he lives not in them.

Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well
as I do: he's abetter woodman than thou takest
him for.

Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare
ye well.

Lucio. Nay, tarry ; I'll go along with thee ; I
can tell thee pretty tales of the duke.

Duke. You have told me too many of him
already, sir, if they be true ; if not true, none were
enough ; but, sir, your company is fairer than
honest : Rest you well.

Lucio. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the
lane's end : Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr, I shall
stick. \_Exeunt,

^ Go.

Scene IV. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 393

SCENE IV.

A Room in Angelo'5 House,

Enter Angelo and Escalus.

EscaL Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd
other.

A.ng\ In most uneven and distracted manner.
His actions show much like to madness : pray,
Heaven, his wisdom be not tainted ! And why meet
him at the gates, and re-dehver our authorities
there ?

EscaL I guess not.

Ang, And why should we proclaim it in an hour
before his entering, that, if any crave redress of
injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the
street ?

EscaL He shows his reason for that : to have a
despatch of complaints ; and to deliver us from
devices hereafter, which shall then have no power
to stand against us.

Ang, Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed :
Betimes i' the morn, I'll call you at your house :
Give notice to such men of sort and suit,^
As are to meet him.

EscaL I shall, sir : fare you well.

\_Ea^it.

Ang, Good night. —
This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpreg-

nant,
And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid !
And by an eminent body, that enfbrc'd
The law against it ! — But that her tender shame
Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
® Figure and rank.

i

S94 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act IV.

How might she tongue me ? Yet reason dares her?

— no :
For my authority bears a credent bulk,
That no particular scandal once can touch,
But it confounds the breather. He should have

liy'd.
Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense.
Might, in the times to come, have ta'en revenge.
By so receiving a dishonoured hfe.
With ransome of such shame. 'Would yet he had

liv'd !
Alack, when once our grace we have forgot.
Nothing goes right ; we would, and we would not.

SCENE V.
Fields without the Town.

Enter Duke in his own habit, and Friar Peter.

Duke, These letters at fit time deliver me.

[Giving letters.
The provost knows our purpose, and our plot.
The matter being afoot, keep your instruction,
And hold you ever to our special drift ;
Though sometimes you do blench^ from this to that,
As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavins' house,
And tell him where I stay: give the like notice
To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus,
And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate ;
But send me Flavius first.

F, Peter, It shall be speeded well.

[_Ea:it Friar.
7 Start oflf.

Scene VI. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ^95

Enter Varrius.

Duke, I thank thee, Varrius ; thou hast made
good haste :
Come, we will walk : There's other of our friends
Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius.

\_Ea:eunt.

SCENE VI.
Street near the City Gate*

Enter Isabella and Mariana.

Isah, To speak so indirectly, I am loath ;
I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so,
That is your part: yet I'm advis'd to do it;
He says, to veil full ^ purpose.

Mart, Be rul'd by him.

Isab, Besides, he tells me, that, if peradventure
He speak against me on the adverse side,
I should not think it strange ; for 'tis a physick.
That's bitter to sweet end.

Mari. I would, friar Peter —

Isab, O, peace ; the friar is come.

Enter Friar Peter.

F, Peter, Come, I have found you out a stand
most fit.
Where you may have such vantage on the duke.
He shall not pass you ; Twice have the trumpets

sounded ;
The generous ^ and gravest citizens
Have hent ^ the gates, and very near upon
The duke is ent'ring ; therefore hence, away.

\_Exeunt,
^ Availful. » Most noble. ' Seized.

396 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

ACT V.

SCENE l. — Apublick Place near the City Gate.

Mariana (yeiVd), Isabella, and Peter, at a
distance. Enter at opposite doors, Duke, Varrius,
Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost,
Officers, and Citizens.

Duhe. My very worthy cousin, fairly met : —
Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.

Ang. and EscaL Happy return be to your royal
grace !

Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both.
We have made inquiry of you; and we hear
Such goodness of your justice, that our soul
Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks,
Forerunning more requital.

Ang. You make my bonds still greater.

Duke. O, your desert speaks loud ; and I should
wrong it.
To lock it in the wards of covert bosom.
When it deserves with characters of brass
A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time.
And razure of oblivion : Give me your hand.
And let the subject see, to make them know
That outward comtesies would fain proclaim
Favours that keep within. — Come, Escalus ;
You must walk by us on our other hand ; —
And good supporters are you.

Peter and Isabella come forward.

F. Peter. Now is your time ; speak loud, and

kneel before him.
Isab. Justice, O royal duke ! VaiP your regard
■^ Lower.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 397

Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid !
O worthy piince, dishonour not your eye
By throwing it on any other object,
Till you have heard me in my true complaint,
And given me, justice, justice, justice, justice !

Duke, Relate your wrongs: In what? By whom?
Be brief:
Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice ;
Reveal yourself to him.

Isab. O, worthy duke.

You bid me seek redemption of the devil :
Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak
Must either punish me, not being believ'd.
Or wring redress fj om you : hear me, O, hear me,
here.

Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm :
She hath been a suitor to me for her brother.
Cut off by course of justice.

Isab, By course of justice !

Aug, And she will speak most bitterly and
strange.

Isab, Most strange, but yet most truly, will I
speak :
That Angelo' s forsworn ; is it not strange ?
That Angelo's a murderer ; is't not strange ?
That Angelo is an adulterous thief.
An hypocrite, a virgin-violator ;
Is it not strange, and strange ?

Duke, Nay, ten times strange.

Isab, It is not truer he is Angelo,
Than this is all as true as it is strange :
Nay, it is ten times true : for truth is truth
To the end of reckoning.

Duke, Away with her : Poor soul,

She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.

Isab, O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st
There is another comfort than this world,

398 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

That thou neglect me not, with that opmion
That I am touch'd with madness : make not im-
possible
That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impossible,
But one the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute.
As Angelo ; even so may Angelo,
In all his dressings ^ characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain : believe it, royal prince.
If he be less, he's nothing ; but he's more.
Had I more name for badness.

Duke, By mine honesty.

If she be mad, (as I believe no other,)
Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense.
Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e'er I heard in madness.

Isab, O, gracious duke.

Harp not on that ; nor do not banish reason
For inequality : but let your reason serve
To make the truth appear, where it seems hid ;
And hide the false, seems true.

Duke. Many that are not mad.

Have sure more lack of reason. — What would you
say?

Isab, I am the sister of one Claudio,
(Condemn'd upon the law of fornication
To lose his head ; condemn'd by Angelo !
I, in probation of a sisterhood.
Was sent to by my brother : one Lucio
Was then the messenger ; —

Lucio, That's I, an't hke your grace :

I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her
To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.

Isab, That's he, indeed.

Duke, You were not bid to speak.

3 Habits and characters of office.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 399

Lucio, No, my good lord ;

Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

Dulce, I wish you now then ;

Pray you, take note of it ; and when you have
A business for your self, pray Heaven, you then
Be perfect.

Lucio. I warrant your honour.

Duke, The warrant's for yourself ; take heed to it.

Isah, This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.

Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right ; but you are in the wrong
To speak before your time. — Proceed.

Isab. I went

To this pernicious caitiff deputy.

Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.

Isab. " Pardon it ;

The phrase is to the matter.

Duke. Mended again : the matter ? — Proceed.

Isab. In brief, — to set the needless process by,
How I persuaded, how I pray'd and kneel'd.
How he refell'd^ me, and how I reply'd ;
(For this was of much length,) the vile conclusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter ;
He would not but by gift of my chaste person
Release my brother ; and after much debatement
My sisterly remorse^ confutes mine honour.
And I did yield to him : But the next morn betimes.
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.

Duke. This is most likely !

Isab. O, that it were as like, as it is true !

Duke. By heaven, fond^ wretch, thou know'stnot
what thou speak'st ;
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour,
In hateful practice : First, his integrity

4 Refuted. « Pity. « Foolish.

400 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

Stands without blemish : — next, it imports no

reason,
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh' d thy brother by himself j
And not have cut him off: Some one hath set you

on :
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'sthere to complain.

Isah. And is this all ?

Then, oh, you blessed ministers above,
Keep me in patience ; and, with ripen'd time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
In countenance ! — Heaven shield your grace from

woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go !

Duke, I know, you'd fain be gone : — An officer !
To prison with her : — Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
On him so near us ? This needs must be a practice.
— Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?

Isah. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick.

Duke. A ghostly father, beUke. — Who knows
that Lodowick ?

Lucio. My lord, I know him ; 'tis a meddling
friar ;
I do not like the man : had he been lay, my lord.
For certain words he spake against your grace
In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.

Duke. Words against me? This' a good friar,
belike !
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our substitute ! — Let this friar be found.

Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that
friar
I saw them at the prison : a saucy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 401

F. Peter, Blessed be your royal grace !

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd: First, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute ;
Who is as free from touch or guilt with her
As she from one unborn.

Duke. We did believe no less.

Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of?

F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy :
Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler.
As he's reported by this gentleman ;
And, on my trust, a man that never yet
Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.

Lucio. My lord, most villainously! believe it.

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear
himself;
But at this instant he is sick, my lord.
Of a strange fever : Upon his mere request,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I hither.
To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and false ; and what he with his oath.
And all probation, will make up full clear.
Whensoever he's con vented. ^ First, for this woman ;
(To justify this worthy nobleman.
So vulgarly^ and personally accus'd,)
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes.
Till she herself confess it.

Duke. Good friar, let's hear it.

[Isabella is carried off, guarded ; and
Mariana comes forward.
Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo ? —
O Heaven ! the vanity of wretched fools !
Give us some seats. — Come, cousin Angelo,
In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge

-^ Convened. ^ Publickly.

VOL. I. D D

402 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

Of your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar ?
First, let her show her face ; and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my
face.
Until my husband bid me.
Duke, What, are you married ?

Mart, No, my lord.
Duke. Are you a maid ?

Mari, No, my lord.

Duke, A widow then ?
Mari, Neither, my lord.

Duke, Why, you

Are nothing then : — Neither maid, widow, nor
wife ?
Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married;
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid :
I have known my husband ; yet my husband knows

not.
That ever he knew me.

Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord ; it can be no

better.
Duke, For the benefit of silence, 'would thou wert

so too !
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to't, my lord :
She that accuses him of fornication.
In self-same manner doth accuse my husband ;
And charges him, my lord, with such a time.
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms.

Ang. Charges she more than me ?

Mari, Not that I know.

Duke. No ? you say, your husband.

Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo.
Ang. This is a strange abuse ^ : — Let's see thy
face.

'^Deception.

Scene L MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 405

Mari. My husband bids me ; now I will unmask.

[^Unveiling.
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on :
This is the hand, which, with a vow'd contract,
Was fast belock'd in thine : and this is she
That took away the match from Isabel,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house.
In her imagin'd person.

Duke. Know you this woman ?

Ang, My lord, I must confess, I know this
woman ;
And, five years since, there was some speech of

marriage
Betwixt myself and her ; which was broke off.
Partly, for that her promised proportions
Came short of composition ; but, in chief,
For that her reputation was disvalued
In levity : since which time, of five years,
I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
Upon my faith and honour.

Mart, Noble prince.

As there comes light from heaven, and words from

breath,
As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue,
I am affianc'd this man's wife, as strongly
As words could make up vows j and, my good lord.
But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house.
He knew me as a wife : As this is true
Let me in safety raise me from my knees ;
Or else for ever be confixed here,
A marble monument !

Ang. I did but smile till now :

Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ;
My patience here is touch' d : I do perceive.
These poor informal * women are no more

^ Crazy.
D D 2

404 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

But instruments of some more mightier member,
That sets them on : Let me have way, my lord,
To find this practice ^ out.

Duke, Ay, with my heart ;

And punish them unto your height of pleasure. —
Thou foolish friar ; and thou pernicious woman.
Compact with her that's gone ! think'st thou, thy

oaths.
Though they would swear down each particular saint,
Were testimonies against his worth and credit.
That's seal'd in approbation ? — You, lord Escalus,
Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. —
There is another friar that set them on ;
Let him be sent for.

F, Peter. Would he were here, my lord ; for he,
indeed.
Hath set the women on to this complaint :
Your provost knows the place where he abides.
And he may fetch him.

Duke, Go do it instantly. — [^Ea:it Provost.
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best.
In any chastisement : I for a while
Will leave you ; but stir not you, till you have well
Determined upon these slanderers.

EscaL My lord, we'll do it thoroughly^ — [Ea:it
Duke.] Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew
that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ?

Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum : honest in
nothing but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke
most villainous speeches of the duke.

EscaL We shall entreat you to abide here till he
come, and enforce them against him : we shall find
this friar a notable fellow.

L i

Conspiracy.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 405

Lucio, As any in Vienna, on my word.

EscaL Call that same Isabel here once again ;
[To an Attendant,'] I would speak with her : Pray
you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall
see how I'll handle her.

Re-enter Officers, with Isabella ; the Duke, in the
Friar's habit, and Provost.

Escal, Come on, mistress : \_To Isabella.] here's
a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.

Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke
of ; here with the provost.

EscaL In very good time : — speak not you to
him, till we call upon you.

Lucio. Mum.

Escal. Come, sir : Did you set these women on
to slander lord Angelo ? they have confess'd you
did.

Duke, 'Tis false.

Escal, How ! know you where you are ?

Duke, Where is the duke ? 'tis he should hear
me speak.

Escal, The duke's in us ; and we will hear you
speak :
Look, you speak justly.

Duke, Boldly, at least : — But, O, poor souls.
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox ?
Good night to your redress. Is the duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust,
Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain's mouth,
Which here you come to accuse.

Lucio, This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of.

Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd
friar !
Is't not enough, thou hast suborn'd these women.
To accuse this worthy man ; but, in foul mouth

D D 8

406 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

And in the witness of his proper ear,

To call him villain ?

And then to glance from him to the duke himself;

To tax him with injustice ? — Take him hence ;

To the rack with him : — We'll touze you joint by

joint,
But we will know this purpose : — What ! unjust?

Duke, Be not so hot ; the duke
Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he
Dare rack his own : his subject am I not.
Nor here provincial : My business in this state
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble.
Till it o'er-run the stew : laws for all faults ;
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong statutes
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.

EscaL Slander to the state ! Away with him to
prison.

Aug, What can you vouch against him, signior
Lucio ?
Is' this the man that you did tell us of?

Lucio» 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good-man
bald-pate : Do you know me ?

Duke» I remember you, sir, by the sound of your
voice : I met you at the prison, in the absence of
the duke.

Lucio, O, did you so? And do you remember
what you said of the duke ?

Duke. Most notedly, sir.

Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a flesh-
monger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported
him to be ?

Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me,
ere you make that my report : you, indeed, spoke
so of him ; and much more, much worse.

Lucio. O thou abominable fellow ! Did not I
pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches ?

I^CENE I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 407

Duke, I protest I love the duke, as I love myself.

Aug, Hark! how the villain would close now,
after his treasonable abuses.

EscaL Such a fellow is not to be talked withal : —
Away with him to prison. Where is the provost?—
Away with him to prison 5 lay bolts enough upon
him : let him speak no more. Away with those
giglots'^ too, and with the other confederate com-
panion. [The Provost lays hands on the Duke.

Duke, Stay, sir ; stay a while.

Ang, What ! resists he ? Help him, Lucio.

Lucio, Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; fob, sir:
Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be
hooded, must you ? Show your knave's visage !
Show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an
hour! WilPtnotoff?

[_Pulls off the Friar'^ hood, and discovers
the Duke.

Duke, Thou art the first knave, that e'er made a

duke.

First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :

Sneak not away, sir ; [To Lucio.] for the friar and

you
Must have a word anon : — Lay hold on him.

Lucio, This may prove worse than hanging.

Duke, What you have spoke, I pardon ; sit you

down. [To EscALUs.

We'll borrow place of him : — Sir, by your leave :

[To Angelo,
Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence.
That yet can do thee office ? If thou hast,
Rely upon it till my tale be heard.
And hold no longer out.

Ang, O my dread lord,

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness.
To think I can be undiscernible,

^ Wantons.
D D 4

408 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

When I perceive your grace, like power divine,
Hath look'd upon my passes'*: Then, good prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession ;
Immediate sentence then, and sequent^ death.
Is all the grace I beg.

Duke. Come hither, Mariana : —

Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman ?

Ang, I was, my lord.

Duke, Go, take her hence, and marry her in-
stantly. —
Do you the office, friar ; which consummate.
Return him here again : — Go with him, provost-
\_Ea:eimt Angelo, Mariana, Peter,
and Provost.

EscaL My lord, I am more amazed at his dis-
honour.
Than at the strangeness of it.

Duke, Come hither, Isabel :

Your friar is now your prince : As I was then
Advertising ^ and holy to your business.
Not changing heart with habit, I am still
Attorney'd at your service.

Isab, O give me pardon.

That I, your vassal, have employed and pain'd
your unknown sovereignty.

Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel :

And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart ;
And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself.
Labouring to save his life ; and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power.
Than let him be so lost : O, most kind maid.
It was the swift celerity of his death.
Which I did think with slower foot came on.
That brain'd my purpose : But, peace be with him !
^ Devices. ^ Following. ^ Attentive.

Scene I. . MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 409

That life is better life, past fearing death,
Than that which lives to fear : make it your com-
fort.
So happy is your brother.

Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.

Isab, I do, my lord.

Duke, For this new-married man, approaching
here.
Whose foul imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's sake : but as he adjudged your

brother,
(Being criminal, in double violation
Of sacred chastity, and of promise- breach.
Thereon dependent for your brother's life,)
The very mercy of the law cries out
Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
** An Angelo for Claudio, death for death."
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ;
like doth quit like, and ** Measure still for Mea-
sure !"
Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested ;
Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee

vantage :
We do condemn thee to the very block
Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like

haste : —
Away with him.

Mari. O my most gracious lord,

I hope you will not mock me with a husband !

Duke, It is your husband mock'd you with a hus-
band :
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life.

410 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

And choke your good to come : for his possessions,
Although by confiscation they are ours,
We do instate and widow you withal.
To buy you a better husband.

Mart. O, my dear lord,

I crave no other, nor no better man.

Duke, Never crave him ; we are definitive.

Maru Gentle, my liege, — \_Kneeling.

Duke, You do but lose your labour ;

Away with him to death. — Now, sir, \_To Lucio.]
to you.

Mart, O, my good lord ! — Sweet Isabel, take
my part ;
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
I'll lend you all my life to do you service.

Duke, Against all sense you do importune her :
Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact.
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break.
And take her hence in horror.

Man, Isabel,

Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ;
Hold up your hands ; say nothing ; I'll speak all.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults ;
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad : so may my husband.
O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?

Duke, He dies for Claudio's death.

Isab, Most bounteous sir,

\_Kneeling,
Look, if it please you, on this man condemned.
As if my brother liv'd : I partly think,
A due sincerity govern'd his deeds.
Till he did look on me ; since it is so,
Let him not die : My brother had but justice.
In that he did the thing for which he died :
For Angelo,
His act did not overtake his bad intent !

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 411

And must be buried but as an intent
Thatperisb'dbytheway: thoughts are no subjects;
Intents but merely thoughts.

Mart, Merely, my lord.

Duke, Your suit's unprofitable 5 stand up, I say. —
I have bethought me of another fault : —
Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour ?

Prov. It was commanded so.

Duhe, Had you a special warrant for the deed ?

Prov, No, my good lord ; it was by private mes-
sage.

Duke, For which I do discharge you of your
office :
Give up your keys.

Prov, Pardon me, noble lord :

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me after more advice ^ :
For testimony whereof, one in the prison,
That should by private order else have died,
I have reserved alive.

Duke, What's he ?

Prov, His name is Barnardine.

Duke, I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. —
Go, fetch him hither ; let me look upon him.

[_Ea:it Proyost.

Escal, I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
As you, lord Angelo, have still appeared.
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood.
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

A7ig, I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure :
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart.
That I crave death more willingly than mercy ;
'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
7 Consideration.

412 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Act V.

Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Cl audio, and
Juliet.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine ?

Prov. This, my lord.

Duke. There was a friar told me of this man.
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul.
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar'stthy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd ;
But, for those earthly faults I quit them all j
And pray thee, take this mercy to provide
For better times to come : — Friar, advise him ;
I leave him to your hand. — What muffled fellow's
that?

Prov. This is another prisoner, that I sav'd.
That should have died when Claudio lost his head ;
As like almost to Claudio as himself.

[Unmuffles Claudio.

Duke. If he be like your brother, [_To Isabella.]
for his sake
Is he pardon'd ; and for your lovely sake,
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine.
He is my brother too : But fitter time for that.
By this lord Angelo perceives he's safe ;
Methinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye : —
Well, Angelo, your evil quits ^ you well :
Look that you love your wife ; her worth, worth

yours. —
I find an apt remission in myself:
And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon :
You, sirrah, [To Lucio.] that knew me for a fool,

a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman ;
Wherein have I so deserved of you,
That you extol me thus ?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according

^ Requites.

Scene I. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 413

to the trick ^ : If you will hang me for it, you may,
but I had rather It would please you, I might be
whipp'd.

Duke, Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. —
Proclaim it, provost, round about the city ;
If any woman's wrong' d by this lewd fellow,
(As I have heard him swear himself, there's one
Whom he hath injured thus,) let her appear.
And he shall marry her : the nuptial iinish'd,
Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.

Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me
so. Your highness said even now, I made you a
duke; good my lord, do not recompense me, in
making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits : — Take him to prison :
And see our pleasure herein executed.

Lucio, Marrying me so, my lord, is pressing to
death, whipping, and hanging.

Duke. Sland'ring a prince deserves it. —
She, Ciaudio, that you wrong'd look you restore.
Joy to you, Mariana ! — love her, Angelo ;
I have confess' d her, and I know her virtue. —
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
There's more behind, that is more gratulate.
Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy ;
We shall employ thee in a worthier place : —
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's ;
The offence pardons itself. — Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good ;
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline.
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine :
So bring us to our palace ; where we'll show
What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.

[^Ea^eunt.
9 Thoughtless practice.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Don Pedro, Prince ofArragon,

Don John, his bastard brother,

Claudio, a young lord of Florence, fwvourite to
Don Fedro,

Benedick, a young lord of Fadua, favourite like-
wise of Don Fedro,

Leonato, governor of Messina,

Antonio, his brother,

Balthazar, servant to Don Fedro,

ConradL!' } Mowers of Don John.

Dogberry, 1 ^ ^ ?• ? ^
Verges, J two foolish officers,

A Sexton,
A Friar,
A Boy,

Hero, daughter to "Leonato,
Beatrice, niece to Leonato,

ARGARET, i gentlewomcn attending on Hero,

Messengers, Watch, and Attendants,
SCENE, Messina,

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING,

ACT I.

SCENE I. — Befm^e Leonato'5 House,

Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and others,
with a Messenger.

Leonato.

I LEARN in this letter, that don Pedro of Arragon
comes this night to Messina.

Mess. He is very near by this ; he was not three
leagues off, when I left him.

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this
action ?

Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.

Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever
brings home full numbers. I find here, that don
Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young
Florentine, called Claudio.

Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally
remembered by don Pedro : He hath borne him-
self beyond the promise of his age ; doing, in the
figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion : he hath, indeed,
better bettered expectation, than you must expect
of me to tell you how.

VOL. I. E E .

418 MUCH ADO Act I.

Leon, He hath an uncle here in Messina will be
very much glad of it.

Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and
there appears much joy in him ; even so much, that
joy could not show itself modest enough, without
a badge of bitterness.

Leon, Did he break out into tears ?

Mess, In great measure.'

Leon, A kind overflow of kindness : There are
no faces truer than those that are so washed. How
much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at
weeping ?

Beat, I pray you, is signior Montanto returned
from the wars, or no ?

Mess. I know none of that name, lady ; there
was none such in the army of any sort.

Leon, What is he that you ask for, niece ?

Hero, My cousin means signior Benedick of
Padua.

Mess, O, he is returned ; and as pleasant as ever
he was.

Beat, He set up his bills here in Messina, and
challenged Cupid at the flight : and my uncle's fool,
reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and
challenged him at the bird-bolt. — I pray you, how
many hath he killed and eaten in these wars ? But
how many hath he killed ? for, indeed, I promised
to eat all of his killing.

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too
much ; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not.

Mess, He hath done good service, lady, in these
wars.

Beat, You had musty victual, and he hath holp
to eat it : he is a very valiant trencher-man, he
hath an excellent stomach.

Mess, And a good soldier too, lady.

' Abundance.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. nSf

Beat. And a good soldier to a lady : — But what
is he to a lord ?

Mess, A lord to a lord, a man to a man.

Beat. Well, we are all mortal.

Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece : there
is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick
and her : they never meet, but there is a skirmish
of wit between them.

Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last
conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and
now is the whole man governed with one : so that
if he liave wit enough to keep himself warm, let him
bear it for a difference between himself and his
horse : for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to
be known a reasonable creature. — r Who is his com-
panion now ? He hath every month a new sworn
brother.

Mess. Is it possible ?

Beat. Very easily possible : he wears his faith
but as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with
the next block.

Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your
books.

Beat. No : an he were, I would burn my study.
But, I pray you, who is his companion ? Is there
no young squarer^ now, that will make a voyage
with him to the devil ?

Mess. He is most in the company of the right
noble Claudio.

Beat. O Lord ! he will hang upon him like a
disease : he is sooner caught than the pestilence,
and the taker runs presently mad. Heaven help
the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick,
it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.

Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.

Beat. Do, good friend.

- Quarrelsome fellow.
E E ^

420 MUCH ADO Act L

Leon, You will never run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Mess, Don Pedro is approached.

Enter Don Pedro, attended by Balthazar and
others^ Don John, Claudio, and Benedick.

D, Pedro, Good signior Leonato, you are come
to meet your trouble : the fashion of the world is
to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Leon, Never came trouble to my liouse in the
likeness of your grace : for trouble being gone,
comfort should remain : but, when you depart from
me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.

D, Pedro, You embrace your charge too wilhng-
ly. — I think, this is your daughter.

Leon, Her mother hath many times told me so.

Bene, Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked
her?

Leon, Signior Benedick, no ; for then were you
a child.

D, Pedro, You have it full, Benedick : we may
guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly,
the lady fathers herself: Be happy, lady ! foi; you
are like an honourable father.

Bene, If signior Leonato be her father, she would
not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina,
as like him as she is.

Beat, I wonder that you will still be talking,
signior Benedick ; no body marks you.

Bene, What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet
living ?

Beat,, Is it possible, disdain should die, while she
hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick?
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come
in her presence.

Bene, Then is courtesy a turn-coat : — But it is
certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted:

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHIN6. 421

and I would I could find in my heart that I had not
a hard heart ; for, truly, I love none.

Beat, A dear happiness to women ; they would
else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor.
I am of your humour for that ; I had rather hear my
dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.

Bene, Heaven keep your ladyship still in that
mind ! so some gentleman or other shall *scape a
predestinate scratched face.

Beat, Scratching could not make it worse, an
'twere such a face as yours were.

Bene, Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.

Beat, A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast
of yours.

Bene. I would, my horse had the speed of your
tongue ; and so good a continuer : But keep your
way ; I have done.

Beat, You always end with a jade's trick ; I
know you of old.

D, Pedro, This i? the sum of all : Don John, —
signior Claudio, and signior Benedick, — my dear
friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him,
we shall stay here at the least a month ; and he,
heartily prays, some occasion may detain us longer :
I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his
heart.

Leon, If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
forsworn. — Let me bid you welcome, my lord:
being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe
you all duty.

D, John, I thank you : I am not of many words,
but I thank you.

Leo7i, Please it your grace lead on ?

D, Pedro, Your hand, Leonato ; we will go to-
gether. [_Ea:eunt ail hut Benedick and Claudio.

Claud, Benedick, didst thou note the daughter
of signior Leonato ?

E E 3

422 MUCH ADO Act L

Bene. I noted her not ; but 1 looked on her.

Claud, Is she not a modest young lady ?

Bene, Do you question me, as an honest man
should do, for my simple true judgment ; or would
you have me speak after my custom, as being a
professed tyrant to their sex ?

Claud, No,^I pray thee, speak in sober judgment.

Bene, Why, i'faith, methinks she is too low
for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and
too little for a great praise : only this commend-
ation I can afford her ; that were she other than she
is, she were unhandsome ; and being no other but
as she is, I do not like her.

Claud, Thou thinkest, I am in sport ; I pray
thee, tell me truly how thou likest her.

Bejie, Would you buy her, that you inquire after
her?

Claud, Can the world buy such a jewel ?

Bene, Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak
you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flout-
ing Jack ; to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder,
and Vulcan a rare carpenter ? Come, in what key
shall a man take you, to go in the song ?

Claud, In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that
ever I look'd on.

Bene, I can see yet without spectacles, and I see
no such matter : there's her cousin, an she were
not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in
beauty, as the first of May doth the last of Decem-
ber. But I hope, you have no intent to turn
husband ; have you ?

Claud, I would scarce trust myself^ though I had
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.

Bene, Is it come to this ? Hath not the world
one man, but he will wear his cap with suspicion ?
Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again ?
Go to ; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a

SbENE I. ABOUT NOTHING. 423

yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays,
Look, don Pedro is returned to seek you.

Re-enter Don Pedro.

Z). Pedro, What secret hath held you here, that
you followed not to Leonato's ?

Bene, I would, your grace would constrain me
to tell.

D, Pedro, I charge thee, on thy allegiance.

Bene, You hear, count Claudio : I can be secret
as a dumb man, I would have you think so ; but on
my allegiance, — mark you this, on my allegiance :
— He is in love. With who ? — now that is your
grace's part. — Mark, how short his answer is : —
With Hero, Leonato's short daughter.

Claud, If this were so, so were it uttered.

Bene, Like the old tale, my lord : it is not so,
nor 'twas not so ; but, indeed. Heaven tbibid it
should be so.

Claud, If my passion change not shortly, Heaven
forbid it should be otherwise.

D, Pedro, Amen, if you love her ; for the lady
is very well worthy.

Claud, You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.

D, Pedro, By my troth, I speak my thought.

Claud, And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.

Bene, And, by my two faiths and troths, my
lord, I spoke mine.

Claud, That I love her, I feel.

D, Pedro, That she is worthy, I know.

Bene, That I neither feel how she should be
loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the
opinion that fire cannot melt out of me ; I will die
in it at the stake.

D, Pedro, Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic
in the despite of beauty.

E E 4

424 MUCH ADO Act L

Claud, And never could maintain his part, but
in the force of his will.

Bene, That a woman conceived me, I thank her ;
that she brought me up, I likewise give her most
humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat ^
winded in my forehead, all women shall pardon
me. Because I will not do them the wrong to
mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust
none ; and the fine is, (for the which I may go the
finer,) I will live a bachelor.

D, Pedro, I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale
with love.

Bene, With anger, with sickness, or with hunger,
my lord! not with love: prove, that ever I lose more
blood with love, than I will get again with drink-
ing, pick out mine eyes with a ballad- makei^'s pen,
and hang me up for the sign of blind Cupid.

D, Pedro, Well, if ever thou dost fall from this
faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.

Bene, If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and
shoot at me ; and he that hits me, let him be clapped
on the shoulder, and called Adam. ^

D, Pedro. Well, as time shall try :
In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.

Bene, The savage bull may ; but if ever the sensi-
ble Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns, and
set them in my forehead : and let me be vilely paint-
ed ; and in such great letters as they write, Here is
good horse to hire^ let them signify under my sign,
— Here you may see Benedick, the married man,

Claud, If this should ever happen, thou wouldst
be horn- mad.

D, Pedro, Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his
quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.

Bene, I look for an earthquake too then.

3 The tune sounded to call ofF the dogs.
* The name of a famous archer.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 425

. D, Pedro, Well, you will temporize with the
hours. In the mean time, good signior Benedick,
repair to Leonato's ; commend me to him, and tell
him, I will not fail him at supper ; for, indeed, he
hath made great preparation.

Bene, I have almost matter enough in me for
such an embassage ; and so I commit you —

Claud. To the tuition of Heaven : From my
house, (if I had it,) —

D. Pedro, The sixth of July : Your loving friend,
Benedick.

Bene, Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of
your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments,
and the guards are but slightly basted on neither ;
ere you flout old ends any further, examine your
conscience ; and so I leave you. [_Exit Benedick.

Claud, My liege, your highness now may do me
good.

D, Pedro, My love is thine to teach ; teach it
but how.
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

Claud, Hath Leonato any son, my lord ?

D, Pedro, No child but Hero, she's his only heir :
Dost thou affect her, Claudio ?

Claud. O my lord,

When you went onward on this ended action,
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye.
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love :
But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires.
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to wars.

D, Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently,
And tire the hearer with a book of words :

426 MUCH ADO Act I.

If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ;
And I will break with her, and with her father,
And thou shalt have her : Was't not to this end
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ?

Claud, How sweetly do you minister to love.
That know love's grief by his complexion !
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise.

Z). Pedro, What need the bridge much broader
than the flood ?
The fairest grant is the necessity :
Look, what will serve, is fit : His once^ thou lov'st ;
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know, we shall have revelling to-night ;
I will assume thy part in some disguise.
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ;
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart.
And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale :
Then, afler, to her father will I break ;
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine :
In practice let us put it presently. [^Ea^eunt,

SCENE II.
A Room m Leonato'5 House.

Enter Leonato and Antonio.

Leon, How now, brother ? Where is my cousin,
your son ? Hath he provided this musick ?

Ant, He is very busy about it. But, brother,
I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamed
not of

Leon, Are they good ?

^ Once for all.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 427

Ant, As the event stamps them ; but they have
a good cover, they show well outward. The prince
and count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached ♦^
alley in my orchard, were thus much overheard by
a man of mine : The prince discovered to Claudio,
that he loved my niece your daughter, and meant
to acknowledge it this night in a dance ; and, if, he
found her accordant, he meant to take the present
time by the top, and instantly break with you of it.

Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told you this ?

Ant, A good sharp fellow : I will send for him,
and question him yourself.

Leon, No, no ; we will hold it as a dream, till it
appear itself: — but I will acquaint my daughter
withal, that she may be the better prepared for an
answer, if perad venture this be true. Go you, and
tell her of it. {^Several persons cross the stage, '\
Cousins, you know what you have to do. — O, I
cry you mercy, friend ; you go with me, and I will
use your skill: — Good cousins, have a care this
busy time. [_Ea;eunt.

SCENE III.

Another Room in Leonato's House,

Enter Don John and Conrade.

Con. My lord ! why are you thus out of measure
sad ?

D, John. There is no measure in the occasion
that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without
limit.

Co7i. You should hear reason.

D.John, And when I have heard it, what blessing
bringeth it ?

*' Thickly-interwoven,

428 MUCH ADO Act I.

Con, If not a present remedy, yet a patient suf-
ferance.

Z). John, I wonder, that thou being (as thou
say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goest about to
apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief.
I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I
have cause, and smile at no man's jests ; eat when I
have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure ; sleep
when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business :
laugh when I am merry, and claw ^ no man in his
humour.

Con, Yea, but you must not make the full show
of this, till you may do it without controlment. You
have of late stood out against your brother, and he
hath ta'en you newly into his grace ; where it is im-
possible you should take true root, but by the fair
weather that you make yourself: it is needful that
you frame the season for your own harvest.

Z). John, I had rather be a canker in a hedge,
than a rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood
to be disdained of all, than to fashion a carriage to
rob love from any : in this, though I cannot be said
to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied
that I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with
a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog ; therefore I
have decreed not to sing in my cage : If I had my
mouth, I would bite ; if 1 had my liberty, I would
do my liking ; in the mean time, let me be that I
am, and seek not to alter me.

Con, Can you make no use of your discontent?

D. John, I make all use of it, for I use it only.
Who comes here ? What news, Borachio ?

Enter Borachio.
Bora, I came yonder from a great supper ; the
prince, your brother, is royally entertained by Leo-
7 Flatter.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 429

iiato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended
marriage.

D, John. Will it serve for any model to build
mischief on ? What is he for a fool, that betroths
himself to unquietness ?

Bora, Marry, it is your brother's right hand.

Z>. John, Who ? the most exquisite Claudio ?

Bora. Even he.

D, John, A proper squire ! And who, and who ?
which way looks he ?

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of
Leonato.

D. John, A very forward March-chick ! How
came you to this ?

Bora; Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was
smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and
Claudio, hand in hand, in sad conference : I whipt
me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed
upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself^
and having obtained her, give her to count Claudio.

D. John, Come, come, let us thither ; this may
prove food to my displeasure ; that young start-up
hath all the glory of my overthrow ; if I can cross
him any way, I bless myself every way : You are
both sure, and will assist me ?

Con. To the death, my lord.

D. John. Let us to the great supper ; their cheer
is the greater, that I am subdued: 'Would the cook
were of my mind ! — Shall we go prove what's to
be done ?

Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. {^Exeunt.

*30 MUCH ADO Act II.

ACT II.

SCENE l.—A Hall in Leonato'5 House,

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice,
and others,

Leon, Was not count John here at supper ?

Ant, I saw him not.

Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never
can see him, but I am heart-burned an hour after.

Hero, He is of a very melancholy disposition.

Beat, He were an excellent man, that were made
just in the mid- way between him and Benedick :
the one is too like an image, and says nothing ; and
the other, too like my lady's eldest son, evermore
tattling.

Leon, Then half signior Benedick's tongue in
count John's mouth, and half count John's melan-
choly in signior Benedick's face, —

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle,
and money enough in his purse, such a man would
win any woman in the world, — if he could get her
good will.

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get
thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.

Ant, Well, niece, [To Hero.] I trust, you will
be ruled by your father.

Beat. Yes, it is my cousin's duty to make courtesy,
and say, Father^ as it please you : — but yet for all
that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else
make another courtesy, and say, Father, as it please
me.

Leon, Well, niece, I hope to see you one day
fitted with a husband.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 431

Beat, Not till men are made of some other metal
than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be
over-mastered with a -piece of valiant dust ? to
make an account of her life to a clod of wayward
marl ? No, uncle, I'll none : Adam's sons are my
brethren ; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my
kindred.

Leon, Daughter, remember what I told you : if
the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know
your answer.

Beat, The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if
you be not woo' d in good time: if the prince be
too important ^ tell him, there is measure in every
thing, and so dance out the answer. For hear me,
Hero ; Wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a
Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace : the first
suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as
fantastical ; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a
measure full of state and ancientry ; and then
comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into
the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into
his grave.

Leon, Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.

Beat, I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a
church by day-light.

Leon, The revellers are entering; brother, make
good room.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Bal-
thazar; Don John, Borachio, Margaret,
Ursula, and others, mashed,

D, Pedro, Lady, will you walk about with your
friend ?

Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and
say nothing, I am yours for the walk : and, espe-
cially, when I walk away.

8 Importunate.

432 MUCH ADO Act 1L

D, Pedro, With me in your company ?

Hero, I may say so, when I please.

D, Pedro, And when please you to say so ?

Hero, When I like your favour ; for Heaven
forbid the lute should be like the case !

D, Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within
the house is Jove.

Hero, Why, then your visor should be thatch'd.

D, Pedro, Speak low, if you speak love.

[Takes her aside,

Urs, I know you well enough j you are signior
Antonio.

Ant, At a word, I am not.

Urs, I know you by the waggling of your head.

Ant, To tell you true, I counterfeit him.

Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless
you were the very man: Here's his dry hand up and
down ; you are he, you are he.

Ant, At a word, I am not

Urs, Come, come j do you think I do not know
you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself?
Go to, mum, you are he : graces will appear, and
there's an end,

Beat, Will you not tell me who told you so ?

Bene* No, you shall pardon me.

Beat, Nor will you not tell me who you are ?
* Bene, Not now.

Beat, That 1 was disdainful, — and that I had my
good wit out of the Hundred Merry Tales ; — Well,
this was signior Benedick that said so.

Bene. What's he ?

Beat, I am sure, you know him well enough.

Bene, Not I, beUeve me.

Beat, Did he never make you laugh ?

Bene. I pray you, what is he?

Beat, Why, he is the prince's jester : a very dull
fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders :

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 43.^

none but libertines delight in him ; and the com-
mendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy ; for
he both pleaseth men, and angers them, and then
they laugh at him, and beat him.

Bene, When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him
what you say.

Beat, Do, do ; he'll but break a comparison or
two on me ; which, peradventure, not marked, or
not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy ; and
then there's a partridge' wing saved, for the fool will
eat no supper that night. [Musick within,~\ We
must follow the leaders.

Bene, In every good thing.

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave
them at the next turning.

\^Dance, Then exeunt all hut Don John,
BoRACHio, and Claudio.

1). John, Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero,
and hath withdrawn her father to break with him
about it : The ladies follow her, and but one visor
remains.

Bora, And that is Claudio ; I know him by his
bearing. ^

D, John, Are not you signior Benedick ?

Claud, You know me well ; I am he.

D, John. Signior, you are very near my brother
in his love ; he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you,
dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth ;
you may do the part of an honest man in it.

Claud, How know you he loves her ?

D, John, I heard him swear his affection.

Bora, So did I too ; and he swore he would marry
her to-night.

D, John, Come, let us to the banquet.

\_Ea:eunt Don John and Borachio.

^ Carriage, demeanour.
VOL. I. F F

4S4 MUCH ADO Act II.

Claud, Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio, — •
'Tis certain so ; — the prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love :
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ;
Let every eye negotiate for itself,
And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch.
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.^
This is an accident of hourly proof,
Which I mistrusted not : Farewell therefore, Hero !

Re-enter Benedick.

Bene, Count Claudio ?

Claud, Yea, the same.

Bene, Come, will you go with me ?

Claud, Whither?

Bene, Even to the next willow, about your own
business, count. What fashion will you wear the
garland of? About your neck, like an usurer's
chain ? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf?
You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got
your Hero.

Claud, I wish him joy of her.

Bene, W^hy, that's spoken like an honest drover,
so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince
would have served you thus ?

Claud, I pray you, leave me.

Bene, Ho ! now you strike like the blind man ;
'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat
the post.

Claud, If it will not be, I'll leave you. [^Ea:it,

Bene, Alas, poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep

into sedges. But, that my lady Beatrice should

know me, and not know me ! The prince's fool ! —

' Passion.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 4-35

Ha, it may be, I go under that title, because 1 am
merry. — Yea ; but so ; I am apt to do myself wrong :
I am not so reputed : it is the base, the bitter dis-
position of Beatrice, that puts the world into her
person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be re-
venged as I may.

Re-enter Don Pedro.

D, Pedro, Now, signior, where's the count ? Did
you see him ?

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of
lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a
lodge in a warren ; I told him, and, I think, I told
him true, that your grace had got the good will of
this young lady ; and I offered him my company to
a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being
forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy
to be whipped.

Z). Pedro. To be whipped ! What's his fault ?

Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who,
being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it
his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ?
The transgression is in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been
made, and the garland too ; for the garland he might
have worn himself; and the rod he might have be-
stow'd on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his
bird's nest.

Z). Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and re-
store them to the owner.

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my
faith, you say honestly.

D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to
you ; the gentleman that danced with her, told her,
she is much wronged by you.

Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a

F F ^

4S6 MUCH ADO Act II.

block ; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would
have answered her ; my very visor began to assume
life, and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I
had been myself, that I was the prince's jester; that
I was duller than a great thaw ; huddling jest upon
jest, with sucli impossible conveyance, upon me,
that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army
shooting at me : She speaks poniards, and every
word stabs : she would have made Hercules have
turned spit ; yea, and have cleft his club to make
the fire too. Come, talk not of her.

Re-enter Claudio, Beatrice, Leonato, and
Hero.

D. Pedro, Look, here she comes.

Bene. Will your grace command me any service
to the world's end ? I will go on the slightest errand
now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send
me on : I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the
farthest inch of Asia : bring you the length of Prester
John's foot ; fetch you a hair off* the great Cham's
beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather
than hold three words' conference with this harpy:
You have no employment for me ?

Z). Pedro, None, but to desire your good com-
pany.

Bene. O sir, here's a dish I love not ; I cannot
endure my lady Tongue. ^Ea:it.

D. Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have lost the
heart of signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while ; and
I give him use ^ for it, a double heart for his single
one : marry, once before, he won it of me with false
dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost
it. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent
me to seek.
« , 2 Interest.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 437

D, Pedro, Why, how now, count ? wherefore are
you sad ?

Claud. Not sad, my lord.

Z). Pedro, How then ? Sick ?

Claud, Neither, my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor
merry, nor well : but civil, count ; civil as an
orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

D, Pedro, I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be
true ; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit
is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy
name, and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her
father, and his good will obtained : name the day of
marriage, and God give thee joy !

Leon, Count, take of me my daughter, and with
her my fortunes : his grace hath made the match,
and all grace say Amen to it !

Beat, Speak, count, 'tis your cue. ^

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy : I
were but little happy, if I could say how much. —
Lady, as you are mine, I am yours ; I give away
myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.

Beat, Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his
mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak, neither.

D, Pedro, In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat, Yea, my lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps
on the windy side of care : — My cousin tells him
in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud, And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good lord, for alliance ! — Thus goes every
one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned ; I
may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho ! for a hus-
band.

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.

Beat. Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you ?

D, Pedro. Will you have me, lady ?

^ Turn : a phrase among*the players.
F F 3

^38 MUCH ADO Act II.

Beat, No, my lord, unless I might have another
for working days ; your grace is too costly to wear
every day : — But, I beseech your grace, pardon
me : I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter.

D. Pedro, Your silence most offends me, and to
be merry best becomes you ; for, out of question,
you were born in a merry hour.

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd ; but
then there was a star danced, and under that was I
born. — Cousins, God give you joy ! .

Leon, Niece, will you look to those things I told
you of?

Beat, I cry you mercy, uncle. — By your grace's
pardon. [£.nY Beatrice.

Z). Pedro, By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.

Leon, There's little of the melancholy element
in her, my lord : she is never sad, but when she
sleeps : and not ever sad then ; for I have heard
my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of un-
happiness, and waked herself with laughing.

D, Pedro, She cannot endure to hear tell of a
husband.

Leon, O, by no means; she mocks all her wooers
out of suit.

D, Pedro, She were an excellent wife for Be-
nedick.

Leon, O, my lord, if they were but a week mar-
ried, they w^ould talk themselves mad.

D, Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go
to church?

Claud, To-morrow, my lord : Time goes on
crutches, till love have all his rites.

Leon, Not till Monday, my dear son, which is
hence a just seven-night ; and a time too brief too,
to have all. things answer my mind.

D, Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long
a breathing ; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time

Scene II. ABOUT NOTHING. 439

shall not go dully by us ; I will, in the interim,
undertake one of Hercules' labours ; which is, to
bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into
a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I
would fain have it a match ; and I doubt not but
to fashion it, if you three will but minister such as-
sistance as I shall give you direction.

Leon, My lord, I am for you, though it cost me
ten nights' watchings.

Claud, And I, my lord.

Z). Pedro, And you too, gentle Hero ?

Hero, I will do any modest office, my lord, to
help my cousin to a good husband.

D, Pedro, And Benedick is not the unhopefullest
husband that I know : thus far can I praise him ;
he is of a noble strain ^ of approved valour, and
confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour
your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Bene-
dick : — and I, with your two helps, will so practise
on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and
his queasy ^ stomach, he shall fall in love with Bea-
trice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an
archer ; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only
love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my
drift \_Exeunt,

SCENE 11.

Another Room in Leonato'5 House,

Enter Don John and Borachio.

D, John, It is so ; the count Claudio shall marry
the daughter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it.

D, John, Any bar, any cross, any impediment
will be medicinable to me : I am sick in displeasure

'^ Lineage. ^ Fastidious.

F F 4

440 MUCH ADO Act IL

to him ; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection,
ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross
this marriage ?

Bora, Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly
that no dishonesty shall appear in me.

Z). John, Show me briefly how.

Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since,
how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the
waiting-gentlewoman to Hero.

D, John, I remember.

Bora, I can, at any unseasonable instant of the
night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-
window.

D, John, What life is in that, to be the death of
this marriage ?

Boi^a, The poison of that lies in you to temper.
Go you to the prince your brother ; spare not to tell
him, that he hath wronged his honour in marrying
the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do you
mightily hold up) to a contaminated person, such a
one as Hero.

D, John, What proof shall I make of that ?

Bora, Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex
Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato : Look
you for any other issue ?

D, John, Only to despite them, I will endeavour
any thing.

Bora, Go then, find me a meet hour to draw don
Pedro and the count Claudio, alone : tell them,
that you know that Hero loves me ; intend ^ a kind
of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as — in love
of your brother's honour who hath made this match ;
and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be
cozened with the semblance of^a maid, — that you
have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe
this without trial : offer them instances ; which shall

^ Pretend.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 441

bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her cham-
ber-window ; hear me call Margaret, Hero ; hear
Margaret term me Borachio ; and bring them to
see this, the very night before the intended wed-
ding : for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the
matter, that Hero shall be absent ; and there shall
appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty,
that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the
preparation overthrown.

1). John, Grow this to what adverse issue it can,
I will put it in practice : Be cunning in the working
this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.

Bora, Be you constant in the accusation, and
my cunning shall not shame me.

D. John, I will presently go learn their day of
marriage. [^Exeunt,

SCENE III.

Leonato'5 Garden.

Enter Benedick and a Boy.

Bene, Boy, —

Boy, Signior.

Bene, In my chamber- window lies a book ; bring
it hither to me in the orchard.

Boy, I am here already, sir.

Bene, I know that ; — but I would have thee
hence, and here again. \_Ea:it Boy.] — I do much
wonder, that one man, seeing how much another
man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to
love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow
follies in others, become the argument of his own
scorn, by falling in love : And such a man is
Claudio. I liave known, when there was no
musick with him but the drum and fife ; and now
had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have

442 MUCH ADO Act II.

known, when he would have walked ten mile afoot,
to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten
nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet.
He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose,
like an honest man, and a soldier ; and now is he
turn'd orthographer ; his words are a very fantas-
tical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I
be so converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot
tell ; I think not : I will not be sworn, but love
may transform me to an oyster ; but I'll take my
oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he
shall never make me such a fool. One woman is
fair ; yet I am well : another is wise ; yet 1 am well :
another virtuous ; yet I am well : but till all graces
be in one woman, one woman shall not come in
my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain j wise,
or ril none ; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her ;
fair, or I'll never look on her ; mild, or come not
near ; noble, or not I for an angel ; of good dis-
course, an excellent musician, and her hair shall
be of what colour it pleases. Ha ! the prince and
monsieur love ! I will hide me in the arbour.

[ Withdraws.

Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, and Cl audio.

D. Pedro, Come, shall we hear this musick ?
Claud, Yea, my good lord : — How still the
evening is.
As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony !

D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid him-
self?
Claud. O, very well, my lord : the musick ended,
We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.

Enter Balthazar, with musick.

D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song
again.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 443

Balth, O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander musick any more than once.

Z). Pedro, It is the witness still of excellency,
To put a strange face on his own perfection : —
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.

Balth, Because you talk of wooing, I will sing :
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he wooes ;
Yet will he swear, he loves.

Z). Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come :

Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument.
Do it in notes.

Balth. Note this before my notes,

There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.

D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets that he
speaks ;
Note, notes, forsooth, and noting ! [^Musick.

Bene. Now, Divine air ! now is his soul ravish'd !
— Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale
souls out of men's bodies ? — Well, a horn for my
money, when all's done.

Balthazar sings,

I.

Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever ;
One foot in sea, and one on shore ;
To one thing constant never :
Then sigh not so,
But let them go.
And be you blitlie and bonny :
CoJiverting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

444 MUCH ADO Act II.

11.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo ^
Of dumps so dull and heavy ;

The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer frst was leavy.
Then sigh not so, S^x.

D, Pedro, By my troth, a good song.

Balth, And an ill singer, my lord.

D. Pedro, Ha ? no ; no, faith ; thou singest well
enough for a shift.

Bene. \_Aside,~\ An he had been a dog, that should
have howled thus, they would have hanged him ;
and, I pray heaven, his bad voice bode no mischief!
I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what
plague could have come after it.

D, Pedro. Yea, marry ; [To Claudio.] — Dost
thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get us some ex-
cellent musick ; for to-morrow night we would have
it at the lady Hero's chamber-window.

Balth. The best I can, my lord.

D. Pedro. Do so : farewell. \_Ea:eunt Balthazar
and musick. ~\ Come hither, Leonato : What was it
you told me of to-day? that your niece Beatrice
was in love with signior Benedick ?

Claud. O, ay ; — Stalk on, stalk on ; the fowl sits.
\_Aside to Pedro.] I did never think that lady
would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful,
that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom
she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to
abhor.

Bene. Is't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner?

\_Aside.

7 More.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 445

Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to
think of it*; but that she loves him with an enraged
affection, — it is past the infinite of thought.
Z). Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit.
Claud, 'Faith, like enough.

Leon, Counterfeit ! There never was counterfeit
of passion came so near the life of passion, as she
discovers it.

D. Pedro, Why, what effects of passion shows
she ?

Claud, Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite.

\_Aside,

Leon, What effects, my lord ! She will sit you, —
You heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud, She did, indeed.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you ? You amaze
me : I would have thought her spirit had been in-
vincible against all assaults of affection.

Leon, I would have sworn it had, my lord ; es-
pecially against Benedick.

Bene, \_Aside,~] I should think this a gull, but
that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery
cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence.

Claud, He hath ta'en the infection ; hold it up.

[_Aside,

D, Pedro, Hath she made her affection known
to Benedick ?

Leon, No ; and swears she never will : that's her
torment.

Claud, 'Tis true indeed ; so your daughter says :
Shall 7, says she, that have so oft encountered him
with scorn, write to. him that I love him ?

Leon, This says she now when she is beginning
to write to him : for she'll be up twenty times a
night ; and there will she sit till she have writ a
sheet of paper : — my daughter tells us all. Then
will she tear the letter into a thousand half-pence ;^

446 MUCH ADO Act 11.

rail at herself, that she should write to one that
she knew would flout her : / measure hirriy says she,
by my oivn spirit ; for I should Jiout him, if he writ
to me ; yea, though I love him, I should,

Claud, Then down upon her knees she falls,
weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, and
cries, O sweet BenedicJc I

Leon, She doth indeed ; my daughter says so :
and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that
my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a des-
perate outrage to herself: It is very true.

D, Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of
it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claud, To what end ? He would but make a
sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

Z). Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang
him : She's an excellent sweet lady ; and, out of all
suspicion, she is virtuous.

Claud. And she is exceeding wise.
D. Pedro. In everything, but in loving Benedick.
Leon, I am sorry for her, as I have just cause,
being her uncle and her guardian.

D, Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage
on me ; I would have dafF'd ^ all other respects, and
made her half myself : I pray you, tell Benedick of
it, and hear what he will say.
Leon. Were it good, think you ?
Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die : for she
says, she will die if he love her not ; and she will
die ere she makes her love known ; and she will
die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one
breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well : if she should make
tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it ;
for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptuous
spirit.

8 Thrown ofF.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 447

Claud, He is a very proper man.

Z). Pedro, He hath, indeed, a good outward
happiness.

Claud, And in my mind, very wise.

D, Pedro, He doth, indeed, show some sparks
that are Uke wit.

Leon. And I take him to be vaHant.

D, Pedro, As Hector, I assure you : and in the
managing of quarrels you may say he is wise ; for
either he avoids them with great discretion, or un-
dertakes them with a most christian-hke fear.

Leon, If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep
peace ; if he break the peace, he ought to enter
into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

D, Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man doth
fear God. Well, I am sorry for your niece : Shall
we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love ?

Claud. Never tell him, my lord ; let her wear it
out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible ; she may wear her
heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your
daughter ; let it cool the while. I love Benedick
well; and I could wish he would modestly examine
himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a
lady.

Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready.

Claud, If he do not dote on her upon this, I will
never trust my expectation. \_Aside.

D, Pedro, Let there be the same net spread for
her ; and that must your daughter and her gentle-
woman carry. The sport will be, w^hen they hold
one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such
matter ; that's the scene that I would see, which
will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to
call him in to dinner. [^Aside,

[^Exeunt Don Pedro, Cl audio, fl^wrf Leonato.

t48 MUCH ADO Act II. Sc. III.

Benedick advances from the Arbour.

Bene, This can be no trick : The conference was
sadly borne. ^ — They have the truth of this from
Hero. They seem to pity the lady ; it seems, her
affections have their full bent. Love me ! why, it
must be requited. I hear how I am censured : they
say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the
love come from her ; they say too, that she will ra-
ther die than give any sign of affection. — I did
never think to marry : — I must not seem proud :
— Happy are they that hear their detractions, and
can put them to mending. They say, the lady is
fair ; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness : and vir-
tuous ; — 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but
for loving me : — By my troth, it is no addition to
her wit ; — nor no great argument of her folly, for
I will be horribly in love with her. — I may chance
have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken
on me, because I have railed so long against mar-
riage : — But doth not the appetite alter ? A man
loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure
in his age : Shall quips, and sentences, and these
paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the ca-
reer of his humour? No: The world must be
peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I
did not think I should live till I were married. —
Here comes Beatrice : By this day, she's a fair
lady : I do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat, Against my will, I am sent to bid you come
in to dinner.

Bene, Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

^ Seriously carried on.

Act III. Sc. I. ABOUT NOTHING. 449

Beat, I took no more pains for those thanks, than
you take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful
I would not have come.

Bene, You take pleasure in the message ?

Beat, Yea, just so much as you may take upon a
knife's point, and choke a daw withal: — You have
no stomach, signior ; fare you well. \_Ea:it,

Bene, Ha ! Against my "will I am sent to bid you
come to dinner — there's a double meaning in that.
/ took no more pains for those thanks, than you took
pains to thank me — that's as mucli as to say. Any
pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks: — If
I do not take pity of her, I am a villain ; if I do not
love her, I am a Jew : I will go get her picture.

\_Ea:it,

ACT HI.

SCENE I. — Leonato'5 Garden,

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.

Hero, Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour:
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing ^ with the prince and Claudio :
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her ; say, that thou overheard'st us ;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter ; — like favourites.
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it : — there will she
hide her,

' Discoursing.

VOL. I. G G

450 MUCH ADO Act III.

To listen our propose : This is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.

Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, pre-
sently. [_Em.

Hero, Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come.
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Gur talk must only be of Benedick :
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit :
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice : Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made.
That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ;

^w/^r Beatrice, behind.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

Urs, The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream.
And greedily devour the treacherous bait :
So angle we for Beatrice ; who even now
Is couch'd in the woodbine coverture :
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.

Hero, Then go we near her, that her ear lose
nothing
Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. —

[They advance to the bo*wer.
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ;
I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock. ^

Urs, But are you sure.

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ?

Hero, So says the prince, and my new-trothed
lord.

Urs, And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?

2 A species of hawks.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 451

Hero, They did entreat me to acquaint her of it :
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman
Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed.
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ?

Hero, O God of love 1 I know, he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man :
But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice :
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on ; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak : she cannot love.
Nor take no shape nor project of affection.
She is so self-endeared.

Urs, Sure, 1 think so ;

And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero, Why, you speak truth : I never yet saw
man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward : if fair- faced,
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister ;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed ;
If low, an agate very vilely cut :
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all wind :
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out ;
And never gives to truth and virtue, that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs, Sure, sure, such carpingisnot commendable.

Hero, No : not to be so odd, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable :
But who dare tell her so ? if I should speak,
G G 2

452^ MUCH ADO Act III.

She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire.
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly :
It were a better death than die with mocks.

Urs, Yet tell her of it ; hear what she will say.
Hero, No ; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion :
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders
To stain my cousin with : One doth not know,
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Urs, O, do not do your cousin such a wrong.
She cannot be so much without true judgment,
(Having so swift and excellent a wit.
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick.

Hero, He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.

Urs, I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
Speaking my fancy ; signior Benedick,
For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour.
Goes foremost in report through Italy.

Hero, Indeed he hath an excellent good name.
TJrs, His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. —
When are you married, madam ?

Hero, Why, every day ; — to-morrow : Come
go in;
I'll show thee some attires ; and have thy counsel.
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

Urs, She's lim'd, I warrant you ; we have caught

her, madam.
Hero, If it prove so, then loving goes by haps :
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

\Ea;eunt Hero and Ursula.

Scene II. ABOUT NOTHING. 45S

Beatrice advances.

Beat, What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true?

Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu !

No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee ;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ;
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee

To bind our loves up in a holy band :
For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I
Believe it better than reportingly. [_Ea:it,

SCENE II.
A Room in Leonato*5 Home.

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, aiid
Leonato.

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be
consummate, and then I go toward Arragon.

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll
vouchsafe me.

D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in
the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child
his new coat, and forbid him to wear it. I will only
be bold with Benedick for his company ; for, from
the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is
all mirth ; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-
string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at
him : he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his
tongue is the clapper ; for what his heart thinks,
his tongue speaks.

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.

Leon. So say I ; methinks you are sadder.

Claud. I hope, he be in love.

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant ; there's no true

G G 3

454 MUCH ADO Act III.

drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love :
if he be sad, he wants money.

Bene, I have the tooth-ach.

Z). Pedro, Draw it.

Bene, Hang it !

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it after-
wards.

D, Pedro, What ? sigh for the tooth-ach ?

Leon, Where is but a humour, or a worm ?

Bene, Well, Every one can master a grief, but
he that has it.

Claud, Yet say I, he is in love.

D, Pedro, There is no appearance of fancy in
him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange
disguises ; as, to be a Dutchman to-day ; a French-
man to-morrow ; or in the shape of two countries
at once. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery,
as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as
you would have it appear he is.

Claud, If he be not in love with some woman,
there is no believing old signs : he brushes his hat
o' mornings ; What should that bode ?

D, Pedro, Hath any man seen him at the barber's?

Claud, No, but the barber's man hath been seen
with him ; and the old ornament of his cheek hath
already stuffed tennis-balls.

Leon, Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by
the loss of a beard.

D, Pedro, Nay, he rubs himself with civet : Can
you smell him out by that ?

Claud, That's as much as to say, The sweet
youth's in love.

D, Pedro, The greatest note of it is his melan-
choly.

Claud, And when was he wont to wash his face ?
D, Pedro, Yea, or to paint himself? for the
which, I hear what they say of him.

Scene II. ABOUT NOTHING. 4.55

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now
crept into a lutestring, and now governed by stops.

D, Pedro, Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for
him : Conclude, conclude, he is in love.

Claud, Nay, but I know who loves him.

D, Pedro. That would I know too ; I warrant,
one that knows him not.

Claud, Yes, and his ill conditions j and, in despite
of all, dies for him.

Bene, Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. —
Old signior, walk aside with me : I have studied
eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which
these hobby-horses must not hear.

[JEjceunt Benedick and Leonato.

Z). Pedro, For my life, to break with him about
Beatrice.

Claud, 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret have
by this played their parts with Beatrice ; and then
the two bears will not bite one another, when they
meet.

Enter Don John.

D, John, My lord and brother, God save you.

D, Pedro, Good den, brother.

Z). John, If your leisure served, I would speak
with you.

D, Pedro, In private ?

D, Pedro, If it please you; — yet count Claudio
may hear ; for what I would speak ofi concerns him.

D, Pedro, What's the matter?

D, John, Means your lordship to be married to-
morrow? To Claudio.

D, Pedro, You know, he does.

D, John, I know not that, when he knows what
I know.

Claud, If there be any impediment, I pray you,
discover it.

G G 4

456 MUCH ADO Act III.

D, John, You may think I love you not ; let that
appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that 1
now will manifest: For my brother, I think he
holds you well; and in dearness of heart hath holp
to effect your ensuing marriage : surely, suit ill
spent, and labour ill bestowed 1

Z). Pedro, Why, what's the matter ?

D, John, I came hither to tell you ; and, cir-
cumstances shortened, (for she hath been too long
a talking of,) the lady is disloyal.

Claud, Who? Hero?

D, John, Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your Hero,
every man's Hero.

Claud, Disloyal?

D, John, The word is too good to paint out her
wickedness ; I could say, she were worse ; think
you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder
not till further warrant : go but with me to-night,
you shall see her chamber-window entered ; even
the night before her wedding-day : if you love her
then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit
your honour to change your mind.

Claud, May this be so ?

D, Pedro, I will not think it.

D^ John, If you dare not trust that you see, con-
fess not that you know : if you will follow me, I
will show you enough ; and when you have seen
more and heard more, proceed accordingly.

Claud, If I see any thing to-night why I should
not marry her to-morrow ; in the congregation,
where I should wed, there will I shame her.

D, Pedro, And as I wooed for thee to obtain
her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.

D, John, I will disparage her no farther, till you
are my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight,
and let the issue show itself.

D, Pedro, O day untowardly turned !

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 457

Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting \
D, John. O plague right well prevented !
So will you say, when you have seen the sequel.

[_Ea:eunt,

SCENE III.
A Street.

Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch.

Dogb. Are you good men, and true ?

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should
suffer salvation.

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good
for them, if they should have any allegiance in
them, being chosen for the prince's watch.

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour
Dogberry.

Dogb. First, who think you the most disheartless
man to be constable ?

1 Watch, Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ;
for they can write and read.

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. Heaven
hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well-
favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write
and read comes by nature.

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,

Dogb. You have ; I knew it would be your an-
swer. Well, for your favour, sir, make no boast of
it ; and for your writing and reading, let that appear
when there is no need of such vanity. You are
thought here to be the most senseless and fit man
for the constable of the watch ; therefore bear you
the lantern : This is your charge ; You shall com-
prehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man
stand, in the prince's name.

4.58 MUCH ADO Act III.

92 Watch. How, if he will not stand ?

Dogb, Why then, take no note of him, but let
him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch to-
gether, and thank heaven you are rid of a knave.

Verg, If he will not stand when he is bidden, he
is none of the prince's subjects.

Dogb, True, and they are to meddle with none
but the prince's subjects : — You shall also make no
noise in the streets ; for, for the watch to babble
and talk is most tolerable, and not to be endured.

2 Watch, We will rather sleep than talk ; we
know what belongs to a watch.

Dogb, Why, you speak hke an ancient and most
quiet watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping
should offend : only, have a care that your bills ^
be not stolen : — Well, you are to call at all the
ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them
to bed.

2 Watch, How, if they will not ?

Dogb, Why then, let them alone till they are
sober ; if they make you not then the better an-
swer, you may say, they are not the men you took
them for.

2 Watch. Well, sir.

Dogb, If you meet a thiefi you may suspect him,
by virtue of your office, to be no true man j and,
for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make
with them, why, the more is for your honesty.

2 Watch, If we know him to be a thief, shall we
not lay hands on him ?

Dogb, Truly, by your office, you may ; but, I
think, they that touch pitch will be defiled : the
most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thiefj
is, to let him show himself what he is, and steal out
of your company.

■^ Weapons of the watchmen.
4»

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. 459

Verg. You have been always called a merciful
man, partner.

Dogb, Truly, I would not hang a dog by my
will ; much more a man who hath any honesty in
him.

Verg, If you hear a child cry in the night, you
must call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

2 Watch, How, if the nurse be asleep, and will
not hear us ?

Dogb, Why then depart in peace, and let the
child wake her with crying ; for the ewe that will
not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer
a calf when he bleats.

Verg. 'Tis very true.

Dogb, This is the end of the charge. You, con-
stable, are to present the prince's own person : if
you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him.

Verg, Nay by'r lady, that, I think, he cannot.

Dogb, Five shillings to one on't, with any man
that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry,
not without the prince be willing : for, indeed, the
watch ought to offend no man ; and it is an offence
to stay a man against his will.

Verg, By'r lady, I think it be so.

Dogb, Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, goodnight: an
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me :
keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and
good night. — Come, neighbour.

2 Watch, Well, masters, we hear our charge : let
us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and
then all to-bed.

Dogb, One word more, honest neighbours : I
pray you, watch about signior Leonato's door ; for
the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a
great coil to-night : Adieu, be vigitant, I beseech
you. {Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.

46a MUCH ADO Acr III.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Bora, What ! Conrade, —

Watch, Peace, stir not. \_Aside.

Bora, Conrade, I say !

Con, Here, man, I am at thy elbow.

Bora, Stand thee close then under this pent-
house, for it drizzles rain ; and I will, like a true
drunkard, utter all to thee.

Watch, \_Aside,~] Some treason, masters; yet
stand close.

Bora, Therefore know, I have earned of don
John a thousand ducats.

Con, Is it possible that any villainy should be so
dear?

Bora, Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were pos-
sible any villainy should be so rich ; for when rich
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may
make what price they will.

Con, I wonder at it.

Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed'*: Thou
knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or
a cloak, is nothing to a man.

Con, Yes, it is apparel.

Bora. I mean the fashion.

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.

Bora, Tush ! I may as well say, the fool's the
fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief
this fashion is ?

Watch, I know that Deformed ; he has been a
vile thief this seven year ; he goes up and down
like a gentleman : I remember his name.

Bora^ Didst thou not hear somebody ?

Con, No ; 'twas the vane on the house.

Bora, Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed

4 Unpractised in the ways of the world.

Scene III, ABOUT NOTHING. 461

thief this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all
the hot bloods, between fourteen and five-and-
thirty ?

Con, All this I see ; and see, that the fashion
wears out more apparel than the man : But art not
thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou
hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the
fashion ?

Bora. Not so, neither : but know, that I have
to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentle-
woman, by the name of Hero ; she leans me out at
her mistress' chamber-window, bids me a thousand
times good night, — I tell this tale vilely : — I
should first tell thee, how the prince, Claudio, and
my master, planted, and placed, and possessed by
my master don John, saw afar off in the orchard
this amiable encounter.

Cor, And thought they, Margaret was Hero ?

Bora, Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ;
but the devil my master knew she was Margaret ;
and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them,
partly by the dark night, which did deceive them,
but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any
slander that don John had made, away went Claudio
enraged J swore he would meet her as he was ap-
pointed, next morning at the temple, and there,
before the whole congregation, shame her with
what he saw over-night, and send her home again
without a husband.

1 Watch, We charge you in the prince's name,
stand.

2 Watch, Call up the right master constable : We
have here recovered the most dangerous piece of
lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth.

1 Watch, And one Deformed is one of them ; I
know him, he wears a lock.
Con, Masters, masters.

462 MUCH ADO Act III.

2 Watch, You'll be made bring Deformed forth,
I warrant you.

Con. Masters, —

1 Watch, Never speak ; we charge you, let us
obey you to go with us.

Bora, We are like to prove a goodly commodity,
being taken up of these men's bills.

Con, A commodity in question, I warrant you.
Come, we'll obey you. \^Ea:eunt,

SCENE IV.
A Room in Leonato'5 House.

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula.

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice,
and desire her to rise.

Urs. I will, lady.

Hero. And bid her come hither.

Urs. Well. [_Ea:it Ursula.

Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato ^ were
better.

Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this.

Marg. By my troth, it's not so good 5 and I war-
rant, your cousin will say so.

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another 5
I'll wear none but this.

Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if
the hair were a thought browner : and your gown's
a most rare fashion. I saw the duchess of Milan's
gown, that they praise so.

Hero. O that exceeds, they say.

Marg. By my troth it's but a night-gown in re-
spect of yours : Cloth of gold, and cuts, and laced
with silver ; set with pearls, down sleeves, side-

^ A kind of ruff.

Scene IV. ABOUT NOTHING. 468

sleeves, and skirts round, underborne with a blueish
tinsel : but for a line, quaint, graceful, and excel-
lent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.

Hero, God give me joy to wear it, for my heart
is exceeding heavy !

Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good morrow, coz.

Beat, Good morrow, sweet Hero. 'Tis almost
five o'clock, cousin ; 'tis time you were ready. By
my troth, I am exceeding ill : — hey ho !

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ?

Beat, By my troth, I am sick.

Marg, Get you some of this distilled Carduus
Benedictus, and lay it to your heart ; it is the only
thing for a qualm.

Hero, There thou prick'st her with a thistle.

Beat, Benedictus ! why Benedictus ? you have
some moral in this Benedictus.

Marg, Moral ! no, by my troth, I have no moral
meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may
think, perchance, that I think you are in love: nay,
by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list ;
nor I list not to think what I can ; nor, indeed, I
cannot think, if I would think my heart out of
thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be
in love, or that you can be in love; yet Benedick
was such another, and now is he become a man :
he swore he would never marry ; and yet now, in
despite of his heart, he eats his meat without
grudging : and how you may be converted, I know
not ; but methinks, you look with your eyes as
other women do.

Beat* What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ?

Marg, Not a false gallop.

464 MUCH ADO Act III.

Re-enter Ursula.

Urs. Madara, withdraw ; the prince, the count,
signior Benedick, don John, and all the gallants of
the town, are come to fetch you to church.

Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg,
good Ursula. [Ea^eimt.

SCENE V.

Another Room in Leonato'5 House.

Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and Verges.

Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh-
bour?

Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence
with you, that decerns you nearly.

Leon. Brief, 1 pray you ; for you see, 'tis a busy
time with me.

Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir.

Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.

Leon. What is it, my good friends ?

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off
the matter ; an old man, sir, and his wits are not so
blunt, as, I would desire they were ; but, in faith,
honest, as the skin between his brows.

Verg. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any
man living, that is an old man, and no honester
than I.

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neigh-
bour Verges.

J^eon. Neighbours, you are tedious.

Dogb.^ It pleases your worship to say so, but we
are the poor duke's officers ; but, truly, for mine
own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could
find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.

Scene V. ABOUT NOTHING. 465

Leon, All thy tediousness on me ! ha !

Dogb, Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more
than 'tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your
worship, as of any man in the city ; and though I
be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.

Verg, And so am I.

Leon, 1 would fain know what you have to say.

Verg, Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting
your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as
arrant knaves as any in Messina.

Dogb, A good old man, sir ; he will be talking;
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out :
it is a world to see !^ — Well said, i'faith, neighbour
Verges : — well, an two men ride of a horse, one
must ride behind : — An honest soul, i'faith, sir ;
by my troth he is, as ever broke bread : but, all
men are not alike ; alas, good neighbour !

Leon, Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of
you ; but I must leave you.

Dogb, One word, sir ; our watch, sir, have, in-
deed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we
would have them this morning examined before
your worship.

Leon, Take their examination yourself, and bring
it me ; I am now in great haste, as it may appear
unto you.

Dogb, It shall be suffigance.

Leon, Drink some wine ere you go ; fare you
well.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess, My lord, they stay for you to give your
daughter to her husband.

Leon, I will wait upon them ; I am ready.

[_Ea:eunt Leonato and Messenger.
Dogb, Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis

^ i, e. It is wonderful to see.
VOL. I. H H

^66 MUCH ADO Act IV.

Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the
gaol ; we are now to examination these men.

Ferg. And we must do it wisely.

Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you ;
here's that \_Touching his Jbre head.'] shall drive some
of them to a non com : only get the learned writer
to set down our excommunication, and meet me at
the gaol. \_Ea:eunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. — THe Inside of a Church.

Enter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar,
Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, ^c.

Leon. Come, friar Francis, be brief ; only to the
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their
particular duties afterwards.

Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this
lady?

Claud. No.

Leon. To be married to her, friar ; you come to
marry her.

Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to
this count ?

Hero. I do.

Friar. If either of you know any inward impe-
diment why you should not be conjoined, I charge
you, on your souls, to utter it.

Claud. Know you any. Hero ?

Hero. None, my lord.

Friar. Know you any, count ?

Leon. 1 dare make his answer, none.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 467

Claud, O, what men dare do ! what men may
do ! what men daily do ! not knowing what they
do!

Bene. How now ! Interjections? Why, then some
be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he!

Claud, Stand thee by, friar : — Father, by your
leave !
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter ?

Leon, As freely, son, as God did give her me.

Claud, And what have I to give you back, whose
worth
Maycounterpoise this rich and precious gift.

D, Pedro, Nothing, unless you render her
again.

Claud, Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank-
fulness. —
There, Leonato, take her back again ;
Give not this rotten orange to your friend ;
She's but the sign and semblance of her honour : —
Behold, how like a maid she blushes here :
O, what authority and show of truth
Can cunning sin cover itself withal !
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence,
To witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows ? But she is none :
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.

Leon, What do you mean, my lord ?

Claud, Not to be married,

Not knit my soul to an approved wanton.

Leon, Dear my lord, if you in your own proof
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity, — -

Claud, I know what you w^ould say ; If I have
known her,
You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband,

H H ^

468 MUCH ADO Act IV.

And so extenuate the 'forehand sin :
No, Leonato,

I never tempted her with word too large ; ^
But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
Bashful sincerity, and comely love.

Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you ?

Claud. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against
it:
You seem to me as Dian in her orb ;
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals
That rage in savage sensuality.

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so
wide ? ^

Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you ?

D. Pedro. What should I speak ?

I stand dishonour' d, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.

Leo7i. Are these things spoken? or do I but
dream ?

D. John, Sir, they are spoken, and these things
are true.

Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.

Hero. True? O God!

Claud. Leonato, stand 1 here?
Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brother ?
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?

Leon. All this is so ; But what of this, my lord ?

Claud. Let me but move one question to your
daughter :
And, by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.

Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.

Hero. O God defend me ! how am I beset ! —
What kind of catechising call you this ?

7 Licentious. ^ Wildly.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 469

Claud, To make you answer truly to your name.

Hero, Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?

Claud, Marry, that can Hero ;

Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue.
What man was he talk'd with you yesternight
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this*

Hero, I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord.

D, Pedro, Why, then are you no maiden. —
Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear ; Upon mine honour,
Myself) my brother, and this grieved count.
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night.
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ;
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal ^ villain,
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.

D, John, Fye, fye ! they are

Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language.
Without offence to utter them : Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.

Claud, O Hero ! what a Hero hadst thou been.
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart [
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell,
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity !
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love.
And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang.
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm.
And never shall it more be gracious.

Leon, Hath no man's dagger here a point for me ?

[Hero swoons.

Beat, Why, how now, cousin ? wherefore
you down ?

^ Too free of tongue.
H H 3

470 MUCH ADO Act IV.

Z). John, Come, let us go ; these things, come
thus to light.
Smother her spirits up.

\_Ea:eunt Don Pedro, Don John, and
Claudio.

Bene, How doth the lady ?

Beat, Dead, I think ; — help, uncle ; —

Hero ! why, Hero ! — Uncle ! — Signior Benedick !
friar !

Leon, O fate, take not away thy heavy hand J.
Death is the fairest cover for her shame.
That may be wish'd for.

Beat, How now, cousin Hero ?

Friar, Have comfort, lady.

Leon, Dost thou look up ?

Friar, Yea ; wherefore should she not ?

Leon, Wherefore ? Why, doth not every earthly
thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood ?
Do not live, Hero : do not ope thine eyes :
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches.
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one ?
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame, '
O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one ?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ?
Why had I not, with charitable hand.
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ;
Who smirched ^ thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have said. No part of it is mine.
This shame derives itself from unknown loins ?
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd.
And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much.
That I myself was to myself not mine.
Valuing of her ; why, she — ^ O, she is fallen

' Disposition of things. ^ Sullied.

Scene L ABOUT NOTHING. 471

Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again.

Bene, Sir, sir, be patient :
For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder,
I know not what to say.

Beat, O, on my soul, my cousin is belied !

Bene, Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ?

Beat, No, truly, not : although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been- her bedfellow.

Leon, Confirm'd, confirmed ! O, that is stronger
made.
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron !
Would the two princes lie ? and Claudio lie ?
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die.

Friar, Hear me a little ;
For I have only been silent so long,
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady : I have mark'd
A thousand blushing apparitions start
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ;
And in her eye there hath appeared a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth : — Call me a fool ;
Trust not my reading, nor my obs;ervations.
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenour of my book ; trust not my age.
My reverence, calling, nor divinity.
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.

Leon, Friar, it cannot be :

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left,.
Is, that she will not add unto her guilt
A sin of perjury ; she not denies it :
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness ?

H H 4

472 MUCH ADO Act IV.

Friar, Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of?

Hero, They know, that do accuse me j I know
none :
If I know more of any man alive.
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
Let all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father.
Prove you that any man with me conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintained the change of words with any creature.
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death.

Friar, There is some strange misprision ^ in the
princes.

Bene, Two of them have the very bent of honour ;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
The practice of it lives in John the bastard.
Whose spirits toil in frame of villainies.

Leon, I know not; If they speak but truth of her ;
These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her

honour,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine.
Nor age so eat up my invention.
Nor fortune made such havock of my means.
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends.
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind.
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind.
Ability in means, and choice of friends.
To quit me of them* throughly.

Friar, Pause a while,

And let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead ;
Let her a while be secretly kept in,
And publish it, that she is dead indeed :
Maintain a mourning ostentation :
And on your family's old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.

^ Misconception.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 473

Leon, What shall become of this ? What will this
do?

Friar, Marry, this, well carried, shall on her
behalf
Change slander to remorse ; that is some good :
But not for that, dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd.
Upon the instant that she was accus'd.
Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd,
Of every hearer : For it so falls out.
That what we have we prize not to the worth.
Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost.
Why, then we rack"* the value ; then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours : — So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination ;
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving- delicate, and full of life.
Into the eye and prospect of his soul.
Than when she liv'd indeed: — then shall he mourn,
And wish he had not so accus'd her ;
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levelled false.
The supposition of the lady's death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy :
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her
(As best befits her wounded reputation)
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
4 Over-rate.

474. MUCH ADO Act IV.

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you :
And though, you know, my inwardness ^ and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly, and justly, as your soul
Should with your body.

Leon. Being that I flow in griefj

The smallest twine may lead me.

Friar. 'Tis well consented ; presently away ;
For to strange sores strangely they strain the
cure : —
Come, lady, die to live : this wedding day,

Perhaps, is but prolonged ; have patience, and
endure.

\_F,a^eunt Friar, Hero, and Leonato.
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this

while ?
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.
Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely.
Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is

wrong'd.
Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of
me, that would right her !

Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it ?
Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as
you : Is not that strange ?

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not : It
were as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so
well as you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not;
I confess nothing, nor, I deny nothing : — I am sorry
for my cousin.

Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
^ Intimacy.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 475

Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it.

Bene, I will swear by it, that you love me ; and
I will make him eat it, that says I love not you.

Beat, Will you not eat your word ?

Bene, With no sauce that can be devised to it :
I protest, I love thee.

Beat, Why then, heaven forgive me !

Bene, What offence, sweet Beatrice.

Beat, You have staid me in a happy hour; I was
about to protest, I loved you.

Bene, And do it with all thy heart.

Beat, I love you with so much of my heart, that
none is left to protest.

Bene, Come, bid me do any thing for thee.

Beat, Kill Claudio.

Bene, Ha ! not for the wide world.

Beat, You kill me to deny it : Farewell.

Bene, Tarry, sweet Beatrice.

Beat, I am gone, though I am here : — There is
no love in you : — Nay, I pray you, let me go.

Bene, Beatrice, —

Beat, In faith, I will go.

Bene, We'll be friends first.

Beat, You dare easier be friends with me, than
fight with mine enemy ?

Bene, Is Claudio thine enemy ?

Beat, Is he not approved in the height a villain,
that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kins-
woman? — O, that I were a man ! — What ! bear
her in hand until they come to take hands ; and
then with public accusation, uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancour, — O, that I were a man ! I
would eat his heart in the market-place.

Bene, Hear me, Beatrice ; —

Beat, Talk with a man out at a window ? — a
proper saying !

Bene, Nay, but, Beatrice ; —

476 MUCH ADO Act IV.

Beat. Sweet Hero ! — she is wronged, she is
slandered, she is undone.

Bene, Beat —

Beat, Princes, and counties ^ ! Surely, a princely
testimony, a goodly count-confect ^ ; a sweet gal-
lant, surely ! O, that I were a man for his sake ! or
that I had any friend would be a man for my sake !
But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into
compliment, and men are only turned into tongue,
and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercu-
les, that only tells a lie, and swears it : — I cannot
be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman
with grieving.

Bene, Tarry, good Beatrice : By this hand, I love
thee.

Beat, Use it for my love some other way than
swearing by it.

Bene, Think you in your soul the count Claudio
hath wronged Hero ?

Beat, Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul.

Bene, Enough, I am engaged, I will challenge
him ; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you : By
this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account :
As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort
your cousin : I must say, she is dead ; and so, fare-
well. \_Ea:eunt,

SCENE II.
A Prison,

Enter Dogberry, Verges, and Sexton, in gowns ;
and the Watch, with Comrade and Borachio.

Dogh, Is our whole dissembly appeared ?
Verg, O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton !
Sea^ton. Which be the malefactors ?
^ Noblemen. ^ A nobleman made out of sugar.

Scene II. ABOUT NOTHING. 477

Dogb, Marry, that am I and my partner.

Verg, Nay, that's certain ; we have the exhibi-
tion to examine.

Sexton, But which are the offenders that are to
be examined? let them come before master con-
stable.

Dogb, Yea, marry, let them come before me. —
What is your name, friend ?

Bora, Borachio.

Dogb, Pray write down — - Borachio. Yours,

sirrah ?

Con, I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is
Conrade.

Dogb. Writedown — master gentleman Conrade.

— Masters, it is proved already that you are little
better than false knaves ; and it will go near to be
thought so shortly. How answer you for your-
selves ?

Con, Marry, sir, we say we are none.

Dogb, A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you ;
but I will go about with him. — Come you hither,
sirrah : a word in your ear, sir ; I say to you, it is
thought you are false knaves.

Bora, Sir, I say to you, we are none.

Dogb, Well, stand aside. — They are both in a
tale : Have you writ down — that they are none ?

Sextoji, Master constable, you go not the way to
examine : you must call forth the watch that are
their accusers.

Dogb, Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let
the watch come forth — Masters, I charge you, in
the prince's name, accuse these men.

1 Watch, This man said, sir, that don John, the
prince's brother, was a villain.

Dogb, Write down — prince John a villain : —
Why this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother

— villain.

478 MUCH ADO Act IV. Sc. II.

Bora, Master constable, —

Dogb, Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not like
thy look, I promise thee.

Sexton. What heard you him say else ?

^i Watch, Marry, that he had received a thousand
ducats of don John, for accusing the lady Hero
wrongfully.

Dogb. Flat burglary, as ever was committed.

Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is.

Sexton. What else, fellow ?

1 Watch. And that count Claudio did mean upon
his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole as-
sembly, and not marry her.

Dogb. O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into
everlasting redemption for this.
Sexton. What else ?

2 Watch, This is all.

Sexton. And this is more, masters, than you can
deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen
away ; Hero was in this manner accused, in this
very manner refused, and upon the grief of this,
suddenly died. — Master constable, let these men
be bound, and brought to Leohato's ; I will go be-
fore, and show him their examination. {Exit.

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned.

Verg. Let them be in band.

Con. Off, coxcomb.

Dogb. Where's the sexton ; let him write down
— the prince's officer, coxcomb. — Come, bind
them : -Thou naughty varlet !

Con. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass.

Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost
thou not suspect my years? — O that he were here
to write me down — an ass ! — but, masters, re-
member, that I am an ass ; though it be not written
down, yet forget not that I am an ass : — No, thou
villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved

Act V. Sc. I. ABOUT NOTHING. 479

upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow ;
and, which is more, an officer ; and, which is more,
a householder : and, which is more, as pretty a piece
of flesh as any is in Messina ; and one that knows
the law, go to ; and a rich fellow enough, go to ;
and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one that
hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about
him : — Bring him away. O, that I had been writ
down — an ass. [^Ea:eunt,

ACT V.

SCENE L — Before Leonato's House.

Enter Leonato and Antonio.

Ant, If you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief
Against yourself.

Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel.
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine,
And bid him speak of patience ;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine.
And let it answer every strain for strain ;
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such.
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form :
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard :
Cry — sorrow, wagl and hem, when he should groan;

480 MUCH ADO Act V.

Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle- wasters ; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man : For, brother, men
Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel ; but tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage.
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ach with air, and agony with words :
No, no : 'tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency.
To be so moral, when he shall endure
The like himself : therefore give me no counsel :
My griefs cry louder than advertisement. ®

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing
diffi3r.

Leon, 1 pray thee, peace : I will be flesh and
blood ;
For there was never yet philosopher.
That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ;
However they have writ the style of gods.
And made apish at chance and sufferance.

Ant, Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
Make those, that do offend you, suffer too.

Leon. There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will
do so :
My soul doth tell me. Hero is belied ;
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince,
And all of them, that thus dishonour her.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio.

Ant. Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily.
D, Pedro. Good den, good den.

^ Admonition.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 4-81

Claud, Good day to both of you.

Leon, Hear you, my lords, —

Z). Pedro, We have some haste, Leonato.

Leon, Some haste, my lord ! — well, fare you
well, my lord : —
Are you so hasty now ? — well, all is one.

D, Pedro, Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old
man.

Ant, If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lie low.

Claud, Who wrongs him ?

Leon, Marry,

Thou, thou dost wrong me : thou dissembler, thou : —
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword,
I fear thee not.

Claud, Marry, beshrew my hand,

If it should give your age such cause of fear :
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.

Leon, Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at
me :
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ;
As, under privilege of age, to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do.
Were I not old : Know, Claudio, to thy head.
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by ;
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child ;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her

heart.
And she lies buried with her ancestors :
O ! in a tomb where never scandal slept*
Save this of her's fram'd by thy villainy !

Claud, My villainy 1

Leon, Thine, Claudio ; thine, I say.

D, Pedro, You say not right, old man.

VOL. I. II

482 MUCH ADO Act V.

Leon, My lord, my lord,

I'll prove it on his body, if he dare ;
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice,
His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood.

Claud, Away, I will not have to do with you.

Leon, Canst thou so dafF me ? Thou hast kilPd
my child ;
If thou kilPst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.

Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that's no matter ; let him kill one first ; —
Win me and wear me, — let him answer me, —
Come, follow me, boy j come, boy, follow me :
Sir boy, I'll whip you fi'om your foining ^ fence ;
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.

Leon, Brother, —

Ant, Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd my
niece ;
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains 5
That dare as well answer a man, indeed.
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue :
Boys, apes, braggarts. Jacks, milksops ! —

Leon, Brother Antony, —

Ant, Hold you content ; What, man ! I know
them, yea.
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple :
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys.
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander,
Go antickly, and show outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words.
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst.
And this is all.

Leon, But, brother Antony, —

Ant, Come, 'tis no matter ;

Do not you meddle, let me deal in this.

D, Pedro, Gentlemen both, we will not wake
your patience.

» Thrusting.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 48S

My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ;
But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing
But what was true, and very full of proof.

Leon. My lord, my lord, —

Z). Pedro, I will not hear you.

Leon. No?

Brother, away : — I will be heard ; —

Ant, And shall.

Or some of us will smart for it.

\_Ejreunt Leonato and ANXONiOr

Enter Benedick.

D, Pedro. See, see ; here comes the man we
went to seek.

Claud. Now, signior ! what news ?

Bene, Good day, my lord.

D, Pedro, Welcome, signior : You are almost
come to part almost a fray.

Claud, We had like to have had our two noses
snapped off with two old men without teeth.

D, Pedro, Leonato and his brother : What
think'st thou ? Had we fought, I doubt we should
have been too young for them.

Bene, In a false quarrel there is no true valour.
I came to seek you both.

Claud, We have been up and down to seek thee ;
for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain
have it beaten away : Wilt thou use thy wit.^

Bene. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ?

D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ?

Claud. Never any did so, though very many have
been beside their wit. — I will bid thee draw, as we
do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us.

D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks
pale : — Art thou sick, or angry ?

Claud. What ! courage, man ! What though care
11^

484 MUCH ADO Act V.

killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill
care.

Bene, Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an
you charge it against me : — I pray you, choose
another subject.

Claud. Nay, then give him another staff; this
last was broke cross.

Z). Pedro. By this light, he changes more and
more ; I think, he be angry indeed.

Claud, If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.

Bene, Shall I speak a word in your ear ?

Claud, Heaven bless me from a challenge !

Bene, You are a villain ; — I jest not : — I will
make it good how you dare, with what you dare,
and when you dare : — Do me right, or I will pro-
test your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady,
and her death shall fall heavy on you : Let me hear
from you.

Claud, Well, I will meet you, so I may have
good cheer.

D, Pedro, What, a feast ? a feast ?

Claud, I'faith, 1 thank him ; he hath bid me to
a calf's head and a capon ; the which if I do not
carve most curiously, say, my knife's naught. —
Shall I not find a woodcock too ?

Bene, Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily.

Z). Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy
wit the other day : I said, thou hadst a fine wit:
lYuet says she, ajlne little one : No, said I, a great
wit ; Right, says she, a great gross one: Nay, said I,
a good wit ; Just, said she, it hurts nobody : Nay,
said I, the gentleman is wise ; Certain, said she, a
wise gentleman : Nay, said I, he hath the tongues ;
That I believe, said she, Jbr he swore a thing to me
on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday
morning ; tJiere^s a double tongue ; there^s two
tongues. Thus did she, an hour together, trans-

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 485

shape thy particular virtues ; yet, at last, she con-
cluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in
Italy.

Claud, For the which she wept heartily, and said,
she cared not.

Z). Pedro, Yea, that she did ; but yet, for all
that, an if she did not hate him deadly, she would
love him dearly : the old man's daughter told us all.

Claud, All, all.

D. Pedro, But when shall we set the savage bull's
horns on the sensible Benedick's head ?

Claud, Yea, and text underneath. Here dwells
Benedick the married man ?

Bene, Fare you well, boy ; you know my mind ;
I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour :
you break jests as braggarts do their blades, which
hurt not. — My lord, for your many courtesies, I
thank you : I must discontinue your company :
your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina :
you have, among you, killed a sweet and innocent
lady : For my lord lack-beard, there, he and I shall
meet ; and till then, peace be .with him.

[_Ea:it Benedick.

D, Pedro, He is in earnest.

Claud, In most profound earnest ; and, I'll war-
rant you, for the love of Beatrice.

D, Pedro, And hath challenged thee.

Claud, Most sincerely.

D, Pedro, What a pretty thing man is, when he
goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit !

Enter Dogberry, Verges, and the Watch, uith
CoNRADE and Borachio.

Claud, He is then a giant to an ape : but then is
an ape a doctor to such a man.
D, Pedro, But, soft you, let be ; pluck up, my
I I 3

486 MUCH ADO ActV.

heart, and be sad ^ ! Did he not say, my brother
was fled ?

Dogb, Come, you, sh' ; if justice cannot tame you
she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance :
nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must
be looked to.

D, Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men
bound ! Borachio, one !

Claud, Hearken after their offence, my lord !

D, Pedro, Officers, what offence have these men
done?

Dogb, Marry, sir, they have committed false re-
port j moreover, they have spoken untruths ; se-
condarily, they are slanders ; sixth and lastly, they
have belied a lady ; thirdly, they have verified un-
just things ; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

D, Pedro, First, I ask thee what they have done;
thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence ; sixth and
lastly, why they are committed ; and, to conclude,
what you lay to their charge ?

Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division ;
and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.

D, Pedro, Whom have you offended, masters,
that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned
constable is too cunning to be understood : What's
your offence ?

Bora, Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine
answer ; do you hear me, and let this count kill me.
I have deceived even your very eyes ; what your
wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools
have brought to light ; who, in the night, over-
heard me confessing to this man, how don John
your brother incensed^ me to slander the lady
Hero : how you were brought into the orchard, and
saw me court Margaret in Hero's garment ; how
you disgraced her, when you should marry her :
' Serious. ^ Incited.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 487

my villainy they have upon record ; which 1 had
rather seal with my death, than repeat over to my
shame : the lady is dead upon mine and my master's
false accusation; and, briefly,,! desire nothing but
the reward of a villain.

D, Pedro, Runs not this speech like iron through
your blood ?

Claud, I have drunk poison, whiles he utter'd it.

D, Pedro, But did my brother set thee on to this?

Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice
of it.

D. Pedro, He is composed and fram'd of trea-
chery : —
And fled he is upon this villainy.

Claud, Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear
In the rare semblance that I loved it first.

Dogb. Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this
time our sexton hath reformed signior Leonato of
the matter : And, masters, do not forget to specify,
when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.

Verg. Here, here comes master signior Leonato,
and the sexton too.

Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the Sexton.

Leon, Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes ;
That when 1 note another man like him,
I may avoid him : Which of thes6 is he ?

Bora. If you would know your wronger, look

on me.
Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath
hast kill'd
Mine innocent child ?

Bora. Yea, even I alone.

Leon. No, not so, villain ; thou bely'st thyself j
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it : —

I I 4

488 MUCH ADO Act V.

1 thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds ;
*Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

Claud, I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak : Choose your revenge yourself;
Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin : yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.

D. Pedro, By my soul, nor I ;

And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoin me to.

Leon, I cannot bid you bid my daughter Hve,
That were impossible : but, I pray you both.
Possess ^ the people in Messina here
How innocent she died : and, if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention.
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb.
And sing it to her bones ; sing it to-night : —
To-morrow morning come you to my house ;
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew : my brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that's dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us ;
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.

Claud. O, noble sir,

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me !
I do embrace your offer ; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Leon, To-morrow then I will expectyour coming;
To-night I take my leave. — This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who, I believe, was pack'd^ in all this wrong,
Hir'd to it by your brother.

Bora, No, by my soul, she was not ;

^ Acfjuaint. ^ Combined.

Scene I. ABOUT NOTHING. 489

Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to me ;
But always hath been just and virtuous,
In any thing that I do know by her.

Dogh, Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not under
white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offender,
did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered
in his punishment : And also the watch heard them
talk of one Deformed : they say, he wears a key in
his ear, and a lock hanging by it ; and borrows mo-
ney ; the which he hath used so long, and never
paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will
lend nothing : Pray you, examine him upon that
point.

Leon, I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.

Dogb, Your worship speaks like a most thankful
and reverend youth.

Leon. There's for thy pains. Go, I discharge
thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

Dogb, I leave an arrant knave with your worship ;
which, I beseech your worship, to correct yourself,
for the example of others. I wish your worship
well : I humbly give you leave to depart. — Come,
neighbour.

\_Ea^eunt Dogberry, Verges, and Watch,

Leon, Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.

Ant. Farewell, my lords ; we look for you to-
morrow.

D, Pedro. We will not fail.

Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero.

\_Ea:eunt Don Pedro and Claudio.

Leon. Bring you these fellows on ; we'll talk with
Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd^ fellow.

Y Exeunt.

5 Wicked.

4^90 MUCH ADO Act V,

SCENE 11.
Leonato'5 Garden,

Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting.

Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, de-
serve well at my hands, by helping me to the
speech of Beatrice.

Marg, Will you then write me a sonnet in praise
of my beauty ?

Bene, In so high a style, Margaret, that no man
living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth,
thou deservest it,

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you.

\_Ea;it Margaret.

Bene. \_Smging.']

The god of love y
That sits above.
And knows me, and knows me.
How pitiful I deserve, —

I mean, in singing : but in loving. — Leander the
good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pan-
dars, and a whole book full of these quondam car-
pet-m.ongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the
even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so
truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love :
Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; I have tried ; I
can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent
rhyme ; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme j for school,
fool, a babbling rhyme ; very ominous endings :
No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I
cannot woo in festival terms.

Scene II. ABOUT NOTHING. 491

Enter Beatrice.

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called
thee?

Beat, Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.

Bene, O, stay but till then !

Beat. Then, is spoken ; fare you well now : —
and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for,
which is, with knowing what hath passed between
you and Claudio.

Bene, Only foul words ; and thereupon I will
kiss thee.

Beat, Foul words are but foul breath, and foul
breath is noisome ; therefore I will depart unkissed.

Bene, Thou hast frighted the word out of his
right sense, so forcible is thy wit : But I must tell
thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge ;
and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will
subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now,
tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first
fall in love with me ?

Beat, For them altogether ; which maintained
so politick a state of evil, that they will not admit
any good part to intermingle with them. But for
which of my good parts did you first suffer love for
me?

Bene. Suffer love ; a good epithet ! I do suffer
love, indeed, for I love thee against my wilL

Beat, In spite of your heart, I think ; alas ! poor
heart ! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it
for yours ; for I will never love that which my
friend hates.

Bene, Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Beat, It appears not in this confession : there's
not one wise man among twenty that will praise
himself.

492 MUCH ADO Act V.

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice that
lived in the time of good neighbours : if a man do
not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he
shall live no longer in monument, than the bell
rings, and the widow weeps.

Beat, And how long is that, think you ?

Bene, Question ? — Why, an hour in clamour,
and a quarter in rheum : Therefore it is most ex-
pedient for the wise, (if don Worm his conscience
find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the
trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So
much for praising myself, (wlio, I myself will bear
witness, is praise- worthy,) and now tell me, How
doth your cousin ?

Beat, Very ill.

Bene. And how do you ?

Beat. Very ill too.

Bene, Serve God, love me, and mend : there
will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter Ursula.

Urs, Madam, you must come to your uncle ;
yonder's old coil ^ at home : it is proved, my lady
Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and
Claudio mightily abused ; and don John is the
author of all, who is fled and gone : will you come
presently ?

Beat, Will you go hear this news, signior ?

Bene, I will live in thy heart, be buried in thy
eyes, and will go with thee to thy uncle's.

\_Ea:eunt.
6 Stir.

Scene III. ABOUT NOTHING. ^98

SCENE III.

T/ie Inside of a Church.

Enter Do?i Pedro, Claudio, and Attendants,
with musick and tapers,

Claud, Is this the monument of Leonato ?
Atten, It is, my lord.
Claud. \^Readsfrom a scroll,']

Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies :

Death, in guerdon ^ of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies :

So the life, that died with shame.

Lives in death with glorious fame.

Hang thou there upon the tomb, [Affixing it.
Praising her when I am dumb, —

Now, musick, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

SONG.

Pardon, goddess of the night.
Those that slew thy virgin knight ;
For the tvhich, with songs of woe.
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan ;
Help us to sigh and groan.

Heavily, heavily :
Graves yawn, and yield your dead,
Till death be uttered.

Heavily, heavily,

Claud, Now, unto thy bones good night !
Yearly will I do this rite.

7 Reward.

494 MUCH ADO Act V.

D, Pedro, Good morrow, masters ; put your

torches out :
The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day.
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray :
Thanks to you all, and leave us ; fare you well.
Claud, Good morrow, masters ; each his several

way;
D, Pedro, Come, let us hence, and put on other
weeds ;
And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud, And, Hymen, now with luckier issue
speed's,
Than this, for whom we rendered up this woe !

[Ejceunt.

SCENE IV.

A Room in Leonato'5 House,

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice,
Ursula, Friar, and Hero.

Friar, Did I not tell you she was innocent ?

Leon, So are the prince and Claudio, who ac-
cus'd her.
Upon the error that you heard debated :
But Margaret was in some fault for this ;
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

Ant, Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon, Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves j
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd :
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
To visit me : — You know your office, brother ;

Scene IV. ABOUT NOTHING. 495

You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio. [_Exeimt Ladies,

Ant, Which I will do with coniirm'd countenance.

Bene, Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.

Friar, To do what, signior?

Bene, To bind me, or undo me, one of them. —
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.

Leon, That eye my daughter lent her : 'Tis most
true.

Bene, And I do with an eye of love requite her.

Leon, The sight whereof, I think, you had from
me,
From Claudio and the prince; But what's your
will ?

Bene, Your answer, sir, is enigmatical :
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd
In the estate of honourable marriage ; —
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.

Leon, My heart is with your liking.

Friar, And my help.

Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants.

D, Pedro, Good morrow to this fair assembly.
Leon, Good morrow, prince : good morrow,
Claudio ;
We here attend you ; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ?
Claud, I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar
ready. \_Ea:it Antonio.

D. Pedro, Good morrow. Benedick : Why, what's
the matter.
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ?

496 MUCH ADO AciV.

Claud, I think, he thinks upon the savage bull : —
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip tliy horns with gold.

Re-enter Antonio, mth the Ladies masked.

For this I owe you : here come other reckonings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon ?

Ant, This same is she, and I do give you her.

Claud, Why, then she's mine : Sweet, let me see
your face.

Leon, No, that you shall not, till you take her
hand,
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.

Claud, Give me your hand before this holy friar ;
I am your husband, if you like of me.

Hero, And when I lived, I was your other wife :

[ Unmasking,
And when ^ou loved, you were my other husband.

Claud, Another Hero?

Hero, Nothing certainer :

One Hero died defam'd ; but I do live.
And, surely as I live, I am a maid.

D, Pedro, The former Hero 1 Hero that is dead !

Leon, She died, my lord, but whiles her slander
lived.

Friar, All this amazement can I qualify ;
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death :
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar.
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene, Soft and fair, friar. — Which is Beatrice ?

Beat, I answer to that name ; [Unmasking,']
What is your will ?

Bene, Do not you love me ?

Beat, No, no more than reason.

Bene, Why, then your uncle, and the prince,
and Claudio,
Have been deceived; for they swore you did.

Scene IV. ABOUT NOTHING. 497

Beat, Do you not love me ?
Bene, No, no more than reason.

Beat, Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ur-
sula,
Are much deceived ; for they did swear you did.
Bene, They swore that you were almost sick for

me.
Beat, They swore that you were well-nigh d^ad

for me.
Bene, 'Tis no such matter : — Then you do not

love me ?
Beat, No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon, Come, cousin, I am sure you love the

gentleman.
Claud, And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves
her;
For here's a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero, And here's another,

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket.
Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle ! here's our own hands against
our hearts ! — Come, I will have thee ; but, by this
light, 1 take thee for pity.

Beat, I would not deny you ; but, by this good
day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and, partly to
save your life ; for I was told you were in a con-
sumption.

Bene, Peace, I will stop your mouth. —

[Kissing her,
D, Pedro, How dost thou. Benedick the married

man?
Bene, I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-
crackers cannot flout me out of my humour : Dost
thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ? No :
If a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear

VOL. I. K K

498 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Act V.

nothing handsome about him : In brief, since I do
propose to marry, I will think nothing to any pur-
pose that the world can say against it ; and there-
fore never flout at me for what I have said against
it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclu-
sion.— For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have
beaten thee ; but in that ^ thou art like to be my
kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have de-
nied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out
of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer ;
which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin
do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends : — let's have
a dance ere we are married, that we might lighten
our own hearts and our wives' heels.

Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o'my word; therefore, play, musick.
— Prince, thou art sad ; get thee a wife, get thee a
wife : there is no staff more reverend than one tip-
ped with horn.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in
flight.
And brought with armed men back to Messina.

Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow ; I'll de-
vise thee brave punishments for him. — Strike up,
pipers. [_Dance. — Exeunt.

^ Because.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

London :

Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode,

New- Street- Square.

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